Lord, help me, I muttered to myself as I struggled through Biochem. I chewed on my pencil intensely before figuring that it'd be best to take a tea break and come back to the problem at a later date. I groaned while getting up from the couch, forgetting about the slight pain in my ribs due to Laurens elbowing. Fucking school, I think to myself while I roll my eyes. I slam my book onto the coffee table, snickering at my F U gesture to the inanimate object before I walk to the kitchen to fill my cup at the sink. When I gaze out the window, it was hard not to admire the unusually warm day in Forks. I move as close as I can to the window and stand still; reveling in the sun's rays, and embracing the warmth as if I were a flower.
I smiled in contentedness, the warmth reminding me of Jacob Black. I sighed once more and leaned against the countertop as images of Jake flashed through my mind. Maybe Forks isn't so bad, I thought to myself, before the warmth from the sun quickly dissipates. Ugh, I open my eyes to see a snow-white cloud eclipse the sun and replace the warmth with a coldness. I shiver before putting my full mug in the microwave and start my search for Charlie's teabags. Cold, the word echoed in my mind; The Cold Ones.
Pictures of pale skin, perfect features, and black eyes were brought to the forefront of my mind. Cullen. The mere thought of his name brought about a rage inside me. I hated the way he talks to people, me included. Almost like he expected everything to always go his way, and if it didn't, someone had to pay for it. I shook my head, trying to erase the image of him from my mind like an etch a sketch, but I couldn't. His black eyes bore into my soul. Edward Cullen was a very disturbed individual, and for whatever reason, he decided that I would be his new interest.
Stop it, I mutter to myself. I'm just freaking myself out. The Cullens are not Cold Ones. Vampires are not real, thats just silly. Beep! Beep! Beep! I jump, my inner monologue, having been interrupted by the ding of the microwave. Damn it, I groan, no tea bags. Just as I open the microwave door, Charlie comes bustling in quickly and clumsily, surprising me once more.
"Jesus Charlie", I shout, slightly annoyed. Charlie stood in the doorway, keeping his head down and his eyes low. He moves to the right to face the coat rack while turning his back towards me.
"Charlie," I ask, he lifts his head for a moment but still keeps his back towards me while removing his jacket.
Something is not right here, I think to myself as dread slowly starts to encroach upon me. I look at Charlie to see if there are any clues as a million questions go through my head. Is he okay? Has he been hurt? What time is it? I look at the clock on the stove to see that it isn't even three. He's home so early, what's going on? "Charlie," I try again, only to continue to be ignored. I listen to him intensely, only hearing what seems to be a quiet sniffle. My breathing hastens, and my anxiety becomes almost overwhelming, "DAD," I shout loudly. Charlie stiffens for a moment before turning around to face me. I gasp, Charlie's eyes are red, blotchy, and have deep under-eye circles from crying, his skin is pale and nearly translucent, and his usually young face has deep-set wrinkles that make him look far older than his usual self.
"Dad", I ask, softer now while walking closer to him. "Are you ok-". I'm cut off from my question by Charlie's embrace, he sobs loudly and harshly onto me, his chest heaving and arms tight around my back. I reciprocate his tight hug, my tongue burning to question him more, but knowing that it would be best for Charlie to emote as much as he possibly could, knowing full well that he would most likely never do it again. When his sobs finally subsided, he raised his head from my hair and looked at me sadly. I looked into his eyes and cupped his cheek, waiting patiently before he started to speak. "Bells", he croaked hoarsely, "he's gone".
I look up to him with teary eyes, confused but scared, knowing now that something terrible had happened. He looked at me with pity before continuing, "Bella, Jake is dead."
Lauren
I limped back to my room, recovering from my father's usual torment, happy to be away from his punches and beratement again. Since it was around 9 by now, I decided rather than dwell on the chaos of home, it'd be best to go to sleep. I sigh and bend my knees to get into the prayer position before starting;
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come,"- SQUEAK!
My eyes flash open, and I look around my small room in haste. Nothing appeared to be out of place, except for the small movement of a curtain next to a closed window. I shift my weight on my knees uneasy, before continuing.
"Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread,-" CREEK!
The sound of the floorboards squeaking once again interrupting me from my prayer and again, making me more uncomfortable. I look around the room before my eyes zero in on a dark space in my closet. "Dad", I ask meekly. No response. I get up from my kneeling position and peek my head outside my bedroom door; My father lay on the pullout chair with his shirt pulled past his stomach and a beer in his hand. He was nearly completely out, and he was far too fat, and slow to be running back and forth from here to my room to be messing with me.
I shake my head and slowly go back to the position I was previously in; it was just in my head, I think to myself repeatedly, before regaining my composure and continuing, "And forgive us", I start,
"our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us," I said with a familiar voice in unison. I gasp, and just before I scream, I see the face of Edward Cullen rushing to me at an unnatural speed. "So you think it was fun to hurt my mate?" He asks sharply, "I will show you how to hurt a rib". He squeezed me so hard the air propelled from my lungs, and my ribs started to push inward. I could not breathe, I looked at him pleadingly, but all he could do was look at me with a hatred like I've never known. He secured his hold around me more tightly, and I could hear the snapping of several bones. Tears started to run down my face, and my vision blurred as I felt his grip tighten on me once more.
"Amen," he whispered.