Hello guys,

For those who have read the first scrapbook of this story, I am sorry for this writing disaster. It was really badly written and hardly readable honestly so really thank you for those who made the effort to appreciate it anyway. I sincerely hope that this edited version will please you more and that the chapters will be more understandable.

I look forward to your reactions. Hope they will be positive. And even then, I hope you'll always be there to read this story.

Chapitre I : The real world

Today was supposed to be a good day.

I mean ... supposed ... because in truth? It was a real nightmare!

I had prepared for high school with the hope of getting back to bed as soon as possible. It was my last year after all. Only one last year through hell before I can finally leave this purgatory.

Sadly, I would quickly discover that this purgatory may have been nothing compared to what the horrible sisters of fate had concocted for me.

But back to the very beginning.

TWILIGHT!

My daily plague.

If I saw that damn book cover again, I was probably going to get violent. For real. I was sincerely starting to lose my patience. This book simply had the gift of reminding me of everything I despised in human existence. It was almost as bad in my eyes as the time when Ally, my mother, thought it would be a good idea to throw a surprise birthday party for my sweet sixteenth… which means that we never had to celebrate my birthdays again after that.

I shook my head fiercely at the thought before I held back a shudder at the memory. I gritted my teeth in annoyance before shifting into gear at the sight of the red light turning green.

It was now certain to say that Stephanie Meyers was my sworn enemy. She literally ruined my last year of high school.

Honestly, I really didn't understand the craze for this book.

I mean, let's be honest here, how could a silly story about a constantly mopey vampire with a control freak trait be appealing?

Oh ! And don't get me started on the depressed, gloomy, frustrated teenage girl. Isabella Swan. This girl was everything I hated. She kept complaining and moaning about his existence.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch. After all it was just a stupid book whose interest would eventually diminish. I was sure it would only be a while before Gen X eventually grew bored of this saga. But this damn story kept haunting my days and nights.

If only people tried to understand that other people didn't want to share their passion with them.

Some people just wanted to endure the day and get on with it.

Do some people give a damn about a stupid utopian tale where the heroine was completely addicted to the opposite sex?

I mean, where was the damn feminism in all of this?

And I wasn't even talking about her obsession with the beauty of the vampire. Of course he was supposed to be unreal, a totally unique being compared to us mere mortals.

The low self-esteem I could relate to, it was a fairly common topic among teenage girls. It was even a good thing to have a heroine who wasn't perfect in every sense of the word, but to write paragraph after paragraph about the dazzling beauty of this vampire jerk. It was beyond my imagination.

So, I think you will understand that I was not a big fan of the damn book. And yet, I had to live every day, every month, surrounded by this damn book. I really didn't understand the craze for this story. It was just one goddamn rose water story among many. A tale to fantasize about forbidden love. And to think that there were now 50 Shades of Gray. We were really going from one extreme to the other.

Anyway, for me there were only two categories of people in this world.

The hopeless romantics and the realists.

Personally, I found myself more in the second category. I wasn't really what you would characterize as an eternal romantic. I preferred things down to earth and most importantly, not involving any romance. Especially no romance. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that all representations of love that I had had as a child ended up in complete disaster. Or just because I didn't feel capable of loving.

I just couldn't bear the thought of suddenly depending on someone just because my brain decided to suddenly release hormones throughout my body.

Come to think of it, this was probably a good developing topic for one of my umpteenth conversations with my therapist. Another way to prove his theory about my antisocial character, see psychopathic.

If you looked at the rational and scientific side of it, love had absolutely no appeal. After all, there was absolutely no appeal in a workout and yet it was pretty much the same. The same type of chemical reaction going through our body. It was probably these kinds of thoughts that led my therapist to diagnose me as a misanthropic. The term was a bit too strong in my opinion. I preferred to drown in denial and say that I was just anti-social.

I figured this was probably the reason I wasn't really one of those big social butterflies.

I didn't need any socialization to start. My generation was shallow and utterly devoid of any hint of real empathy. Everything was done to force us to enter boxes. We were barely masters of our lives.

Life.

Ah! It was funny !

It might have been a grim state of mind, but can we really consider ourselves alive?

We were only made to go through the ages before ending up like everyone else. At the cemetery.

Maybe that was also why I hated Twilight.

The idea of eternal love, according to the author, was just a simple sense of comfort for all of his loving teenage girls. And then honestly, let's be realistic here… even if it means falling into the vampiric trend at least doing it with panache. I mean ... vampires glittering in the sun? C'mon!

But enough to talk about this literary disaster. It was already giving it too much importance.

Hence the reason why I finally came to me. After all you were all there for it, right?

You were all busy reading my every thought in the hopes of getting something out. And I can already imagine your reactions.

What an unfriendly and boring character! A real disaster.

But that was who I was.

A teenage girl who just wanted to forget the life she was living in. If you were honest with yourself you might recognize the fact that you were once like me. Who hasn't tried to rebel in the hope of standing out from the herd a bit?

All I wanted was to get out of this hellhole, to leave this unbearable part of my teenage years in the closet. There was absolutely no point in keeping that kind of moment in memory.

I already knew I wouldn't be the type of person to look back with a fond smile. There was no reason for me to be nostalgic for my childhood. Conversely, I would give anything to suddenly have an accident leaving me with amnesia. Maybe then I could start all over again.

I let out a whole new envious sigh at the thought. I shook my head hoping to wake up from my inertia before leaning my elbow against the edge of my door as I found myself plunged into traffic for the umpteenth time. A light Rock Indie melody traveled through the cabin leaving me distractedly humming to the beat.

Finally, the line of cars shifted again letting me unleash a new gear before cruising past my mundane neighborhood. It wasn't long before I saw the famous white barrier bordering the house. At the simple familiar sight, I couldn't help but think back to how stereotypical it seemed.

That had been my first thought on the move and after all these years, I could only say this thought.

Personally, I preferred a more minimalist decor, something a little more industrial. With character. Not something as bleak and simplistic as a simple white fence on the edge of the house.

I still remembered the time our mother decided to move us from New Mexico to the quaint little town of Portland.

Seriously, who wanted to leave New Mexico to bury themselves in a boring city like Portland? My mother apparently.

However, I was not particularly surprised. Ally had had the gift of ruining my life since I was born. It was probably the elder's curse. Or just the fact that I am a stranger in my family. I had never really been very conventional to begin with. With my 7ft and my long brown curls, wild and my dark whiskey eyes.

I'll let you imagine the family photos.

Especially since my father and mother are both barely 6ft tall. My mother was the typical portrait of a strawberry blonde businesswoman while my father was this infamous rich little kid with shaggy platinum blonde hair. As for my little sister, Kathleen, she was the spitting image of my mother. It only further questioned my membership in this family.

An ugly duckling among the portrait of the perfect family.

I knew I had a lot of bitterness on the subject, but I couldn't really deny the reality. Not even my emotions. It was just who I was.

Despite the fact that I was completely unmoved and emotionless on the outside, I was a total mess on the inside.

A lump of rage and bitterness threatening to implode every moment.

If high school and life in general seemed like a new challenge for me, the family context was almost as much.

Now it was just my mom, Kathleen, and me. But the facts remained the same. We had absolutely nothing in common and the gap was already far too large to bridge it. It had only gotten bigger over the years. Worse yet, my mother had thrown her relentless need for affection on my little sister, creating a kind of bond with her. Something that was sorely lacking between us.

They were not only identical in appearance, they were also identical in personalities. Just as sociable and enthusiastic as each other. Desperate to rob a mall and definitely cheerful about talking about boys. In other words, the family meals were really worth seeing.

A real painting by Dali. Also messy and confusing to watch.

Me ? I was more of the type to blend in. Not that I really had a choice since my sarcastic, biting, cynical personality wasn't exactly the kind of behavior that made it easier to fit into groups. I didn't particularly like unnecessary conversations, let alone physical contact. In other words, I was completely self-sufficient.

Finally I parked in the driveway of the garage before turning off the ignition. I took a moment to observe the front of the house with a sneer before letting myself fall heavily against the seat in exhaustion. I could still feel a slight pain along my shoulder. I brought my hand against the latter to massage it before briefly shaking my head. I could still feel the pain radiating through my arm as I thought back to the number of times a fan too fat in her stupid book had hit me.

At this point, I couldn't even count the number of teenage girls walking blindly through the halls of the school with their noses deep in this damn book. It was almost getting ridiculous.

I let out another sigh at the thought before almost ripping the keys out of the ignition in a hurry. I made my way outside, slamming the door before moving into the backseat to retrieve my backpack.

A cool September breeze flew through my brown curls forcing me to pull the edges of my hooded vest closer to my athletic build in a hope of barricading me from the cold. I definitely hated this city and its damn messy weather.

If this was home ... in other words New Mexico, I could still walk around in a simple, short-sleeved tank top. Shorts would even be a wise choice.

Unfortunately my choice did not really count in the balance. Hence why I had had to face the icy Portland air and depressing surroundings for four years now. There was absolutely nothing to see in Portland. Strictly no breathtaking scenery or even a sea breeze to breathe. Just the plain seen with greenery and concrete.

I slammed the back door on my way before throwing the strap of my backpack over my shoulder on my way. Just seeing the frames of family photos barely representative of our situation made me nauseous. My parents had been divorced for years and still my mother struggled to keep this false family illusion. She said she was doing this for us but I knew better. She had never really gotten over her great love affair.

Which to me was utterly ridiculous since my father was barely worthy of this attention. He was just unfaithful rot, immature and devoid of any compassion for others. All that interested him was his overwhelming ego and his own little pleasure.

It was a miracle that Kathleen and I hadn't inherited her vile character traits.

José, my father, was a great CEO of a company and apparently a big fan of diamond crunchers. He was already his fourth wife including my mother. Worse, if I add up the ages of his last three wives, he wasn't even sixty-six. And that was just a tiny part of the reasons I hated the man.

Probably another favorite topic of my therapist.

Honestly, I went to these appointment just to please my mom.

Why ? Because anything out of the ordinary scared her. So she just didn't understand my recluse behavior.

Personally, I thought she secretly hoped that I would become like my sister.

After all, what parents would want a strange, reclusive child with nasty, almost robotic behavior.

Hearing the TV on, I put my backpack on the first step of the stairs before pulling down the zipper of my waistcoat as I ventured into the kitchen. I stopped in front of the refrigerator before grabbing one of Kathleen's last frozen yogurt. I could already imagine her reaction when she realized that I had practically eaten half of her stock. I let a small smile curl my lips at the thought and found that despite my dislike of my family life, it was still better than high school hell. I couldn't wait to go to college. I had already made a choice for universities based on the sunny side of the country and above all, as far from Portland as possible. I took a spoon from the cutlery drawer before closing it with a flick of my hip as I passed. I then walked to the living room.

However, it wasn't long before I suddenly paused in frustration at the scene unfolding right in front of my eyes. My mother, yes, I meant my mother, had my worst nightmares between her fingers. I eyed the dark cover page with the graphic of white, almost ghostly hands, holding the blood-red apple in sheer contempt before tightening my grip around my yogurt. The crackle of the plastic surprised my mother out of her reading as she suddenly jumped. "Oh my god! You scared me, honey! ''

Names of pets ! I despised them. And how lucky I was, my mom loved them. She used them for almost everything.

However her pet name for me came to pass as I kept my eyes riveted on the cover page with my teeth clenched in disgust.

I couldn't believe that I also had to go through the same pattern in my own home.

I had planned Kathleen to succumb to this foolish trend, after all she was one of those trendy girls, but my mom ... of all people. Still, I shouldn't really be surprised, she tended to be immature at times. She seemed to finally realize the object of my attention as she soon lifted the book into the light with a smile clearly oblivious to my annoyance."Oh, do you know that book too? I originally bought it for you but couldn't resist taking a look. The saleswoman told me it was the greatest love story of all time."

Please, I was going to throw up.

I winced in disgust before giving my yogurt a bemused look. I was definitely no longer hungry.

She bought it for me? Seriously? Again, she definitely didn't know me.

During the rare moments that I had deigned to speak, I had expressly expressed my disdain for this book and again, she had bought it from me. Yet more significant proof of the real lack of attention in this quaint home. I clenched my jaw to keep from saying something rude before just turning on my heels in indignant silence. I put my jar of sweetmeats back in the fridge before retrieving my bag and headed up the stairs to my mom's confused calls. I ignored her all the way before suddenly slamming the door to my room. The few posters hanging on my wall flew, as did my 'no trespassing' sign. I unceremoniously dropped my bag on the ground before removing my sneakers without bothering to undo my laces. I then rushed straight onto my bed, throwing myself face down on my stomach before hiding my face in my goose feather pillow. The moment my lips touched the fabric, a cry of anger escaped me. I took advantage of the sound coverage to release all my frustrations of the day.

Thus, I remained in this position for over an hour before the slam of our front door called out to me. Just like the sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs. It reminded me very frankly of an elephant herd. And as if that wasn't enough, Kathleen came in abruptly without bothering to knock.

I straightened up with a start on my elbows before glaring at her in indignation and irritation. I was definitely not in the mood for a little brotherly fight. Especially since she definitely lacked vocabulary and repartee to be honest. She was not the greatest enlightenment in terms of intelligence. She was based more on the superficial side.

I hold back a sarcastic comment as I noticed her outfit consisting of a denim skirt and a trendy crop top before puckering my lips at her woefully lacking comment.

"Well, hello, dead woman."

What did I say ? A true philosopher. Worthy of Shakespeare.

She closed the door behind her before making herself more comfortable in my room."How was your day? Good ? Awesome! Mine was good too."

I rested my feet on the cool floor of my bedroom, clearly annoyed with her poor sarcasm before rising from my bed in exasperation. I had had more than enough.

''Hmhm. Still so talkative from what I see. Are you still thinking about how you're going to scarify yourself in the back of your bathroom?"00

"Get out!" I barked, pointing angrily at my door before simply grinding my teeth as she put her hand on her hip, looking at me under her lashes in a gesture of defiance.

I immediately pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation before letting out a deep sigh. Quickly losing what little patience I had, I rushed straight for her. This elicited a wide gaze from the blonde. It wasn't long before I grabbed her firmly by the arm before pushing her out of my room myself. The blonde let out a little cry of surprise letting me simply roll my eyes as I could vaguely hear the tired scolding from our mother downstairs. I ignored these before slamming my door sharply in Kathleen's face. The second plague of my life let out a small, outraged gasp before having fun pounding its weak little fists against the surface of my door. She knew how this exacerbated me.

However, I already knew it wouldn't last long. Unlike me, she had no tenacity. I could already predict his resignation. I took a few steps back, glancing at my closed door before turning to look around my room. Several piles of dirty, clean clothes littered the floor as some of my notebooks lay randomly around my bed.

I blew a lock of hair from my face before kneeling down to retrieve my notebooks for good measure. I was not particularly attached to order and even less to school. I was an average student. I just made sure I kept a good C. Just what it takes to get me accepted into college. I didn't really have any plans for the future other than the very idea of running away from this hellhole. The only subject I had a real passion for was history. It seemed excruciatingly cliché. The reclusive and lonely girl aspiring for history and the old one but I couldn't help myself. Our country's heritage was rich and I never missed an opportunity to learn more. Mythology in particular.

The gods were something I was really passionate about. I used to hide my books in an old cardboard box inside my closet. In fact, I only took them out when I was sure I was alone.

I was lifting a new pile of clothes just to suddenly face my personal greatest shame. Right in front of my eyes was the object of the crime.

Fascination.

I had always had a deep hatred for the book, but I wasn't stupid either. I wasn't going to hate something without trying to lean it scientifically. I might have been a recluse, but I was open-minded. Obviously there were some things that needed to be explored and others much less.

Only now that I was facing it, I couldn't help but wonder why I had kept it.

I sharply tossed my stack of clothes to the side as I could again feel the frustration and pressure that had built up from the last few days before I bent down to retrieve it. I quickly made my way to the metal trash can before throwing the book inside with more force than necessary. I risked a look at my still closed door before deciding that throwing it wasn't enough. He could come back and taunt me again and I had no doubt that if Kathleen got her hands on it, the taunts would never end.

I wrinkled my lips in search of a way to get rid of it before suddenly waking up the dark arsonist inside me. I hurried to retrieve my trash before heading straight for my en-suite bathroom. I put the latter in the shower before returning to my room. I began to search through my mess for a lighter before walking back into my bathroom with the black lighter in one hand and some old paper in the other.

It wasn't long before I picked up the book again before pressing my thumb on the lighter mechanism. It wasn't long before I pressed the latch harder as a red, yellow, and blue flame erupted, letting me light the sheet of paper. The song took a little while to catch fire, letting me watch the flames dancing in the reflection of my dark brown eyes. I then threw it in the trash and watched it burn with satisfaction.

I waited until the book was reduced to a pile of ash before quickly turning on my shower head to put out the small fire.

Maybe… and I say maybe if the story had been different, I wouldn't have been against the idea. Maybe if Bella hadn't been so stubborn and blinded by her desire then maybe I would have been more forgiving. And maybe I would have come to tolerate Edward's character if the author had given him a little less sadomasochistic development for PG-13.

However, I hadn't even finished thinking that a sarcastic laugh escaped me. Who was I trying to deceive?

It was obvious that I definitely hated this story, just as much as the characters. I hated Bella and her whiny, degrading demeanor. She was a shame on the female gender. As for Edmund, yes, Edmund. I didn't really care about his real name. All I knew was I found him even more unfriendly than Bella.

I emptied the rest of the ashes down the drain before letting my basket air dry.

If my mom found out what I had just done then things would only get more complicated for me. She was already convinced that I was a depressed teenage girl with a plausible case of sociopathy so if she knew that I was going into small arson attacks she would probably put me in.

Either way, I walked back to my room, clearly relieved to no longer hear my sister's annoying calls and bangs before resuming my place on my bed. I made myself more comfortable against the mattress before glancing up at the ceiling.

I would love so much that I could have some kind of remote that can speed up time. So I could just press a mechanism that allows me to get this year through in the blink of an eye. Just to finally find myself away from home. Far enough away not to have to see my family again, and perhaps far enough away not to hear about the damn book again.

That was my wish.

I just wanted to disappear from the face of the earth, from this family.