A/N: Back to Bella for this chapter! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Eight: 'Eyes on me' (Bella POV)

Wednesday 19 April 2017

Can this guy not take a hint?

I don't know how much more obvious I can be. I've practically told him to fuck off, without resulting to cussing. He just doesn't seem to get it. I don't understand why he keeps trying.

This is only Edward's second day here, and I already dislike the guy. He is relentless in his attempts of talking to me. I wouldn't be so cold usually... okay, that's a lie. But it could have been true, if he hadn't done so much to piss me off already.

After our first encounter yesterday, when he furthered my mortification by asking me what had already been confirmed, I admit, I was angry. More than angry actually. I was livid. He must have heard the conversation beforehand. That laughter was thunderous, and it echoed through the halls. I should know; during my flee from that hallway, the noise followed me. So there is no way he was oblivious to the fact that I was the joke. I refuse to believe it. And that means he asked me on purpose. Surely. It's the only possibility... Right?

Then he has to go and ruin my solitude during lessons by sitting next to me. No one sits next to me. Ever. And I like it that way. On top of that, his seating choice drew the attention of the devil-duo to me. As if I don't have enough troubles with them as it is.

To make matters worse, the bastard had the cheek to check me out. At least I think that's what he was doing. I don't get that kind of attention all that often, not that I want it, and it made me feel like a piece of meat on a plate. I felt highly uncomfortable. I have to give him credit though, he did have the courtesy of looking sheepish when he found that he'd been caught. I wouldn't have noticed if it was anyone else, probably, but he wasn't discreet. At all.

After that, he apologised. At first I couldn't work out why, and I was a little taken off guard. I'm not someone that people apologise to. I'm usually the one doing the apologising. My first guess was that he was apologising for his wandering eyes, but turns out I was wrong.

He had noticed my wince. Shit. I have been so careful for all these years. Ever since my first injury, at school I was always careful. No one has ever suspected a thing. But, as soon as he arrives, this infuriating boy who can't seem to take clear hints, my carefully hidden signs of pain are suddenly not so hidden. I can't believe he heard me. It was almost too quiet for even my own ears to catch, let alone his. He was pretty close though...

Internally, I appreciate his apology. Like I said, I'm not used to it and it was a... nice change. However, when he argued with me over what I felt, all appreciation went out the window. Who in their right mind challenges something like that? It doesn't even matter that he was correct, that he had hurt me. What matters is that I said he didn't, and that should have been the end of it.

Luckily, he isn't in any other class of mine. Only Biology. For that, I am thankful. I went home yesterday, thinking I'd made such a horrible impression he would never want to talk to me again. Perfect.

No. Not perfect. I was wrong. It seems like my behaviour towards him yesterday only made him more curious. So during Biology - which is the first time I saw him today - he continued on with his personal mission of getting me to speak with him. I don't understand why. I was so mean to him yesterday. There was a part of me that felt bad about it. But that part was very small.

I tried ignoring him at first, but then he had to go and comment on my shoes. I've had enough of that recently. Everyone seems to hate them, which I don't understand because Converse are a well loved brand. The only problem I can think of is the person wearing them. Me. That's what everyone hates.

All through Biology I was nervous, there was a heavy knot in the pit of my stomach. I waited and waited, absolutely certain he would try to speak to me again, but shockingly enough, he didn't.

I was so relieved... yeah. Relieved.

My relief remained my domineering emotion up until lunch. I was more than happy for it to stay for the rest of the day, an eraser for that horrible sensation in my belly, but I'm not so lucky. When am I ever lucky?

Guess who stood behind me in the lunch line? Edward flaming Cullen. That's who! With his throat clearing and shoulder tapping that made me fall into the person stood in front of me, causing my bruise to be knocked. AGAIN! With his damn apologies that, for a moment, made me see why my mother hates mine so much.

And then, with his relenting strange need to keep striking conversation with me... after I'd turned away and he'd leant close to my ear to talk to me. I was caught off guard. And I hate being caught off guard. The vulnerability it makes me feel frightens me, though I don't let that be known to the outside world.

After my little outburst, demanding he leave me alone, I saw the flame that ignites his determination die. Literally, the passion in his vibrant green eyes, the pestering and uncommon (to me, at least) need to keep coming back at me, I saw it vanish. It seems that I'd pushed his last button. He was out of gas. He was done trying.

I realised a little too late that maybe I'd been a bit too harsh. The second I saw his mind change, a little voice inside my mind kept chanting "Idiot, idiot, idiot. Stupid fucking idiot."

And after his seething, but totally expected final words to me, about him not being the one with a problem, that little voice grew louder and larger until it was almost deafening inside my own mind. I felt disappointed, ashamed, saddened... but as usual, I didn't let any of this show. The wall I've carefully constructed around myself, the mask I've strategically pieced together, both stay strong, doing what they do best and hiding my true feelings from those around me.

When I turned my back to Edward, he would've been left with the impression that I didn't care about his harsh, cold words. Words that he practically spat at me. Little did he know, that couldn't have been farther from the truth.

Now, here I sit at my table of one by the trash cans. My head is bent over my worn out copy of The Notebook - it's my favourite Nicholas Sparks novel - while I take apart the orange I got for lunch. It's not much but I didn't want to linger in the line for long. Knowing Edward stood so close, yet I'd pushed him so far away, was excruciating.

Which is ridiculous.

My behaviour toward him, the cold and defensive way I'd handled every single encounter with him, was for the best. If I'd reacted to his apologies and attempts at engaging in conversation kindly, that would've given him the wrong impression. It would've made him believe that we could be friends, and that's just not possible.

The matter of social status is the most glaringly obvious reason. We come from two different worlds. I mean, just look at his house! Look at the cars he and his family pulled up in on Sunday. Look at the kind of people he and his sister have already befriended... And then look at me. Look at my house, my mother's car and my bicycle, my friends or lack thereof. There is no way, not in a billion years, that we'd remain friends for any length of time. We're too different.

Me feeling anything but relief and happiness at the result of my rude and distant behaviour is just preposterous. It's not like I'm cheating myself out of anything beneficial. In the end, he'd realise I'm not worth it and go back to the people he belongs with. He'd realise I'm from the lower level of society in this town, and be ashamed to be seen with me.

And don't forget my secret. No one can know about what happens at home. That's the whole reason I don't mind being alone. That's the sole purpose of my solitude.

So, yeah. This is definitely for the best. I should be happy. For the first time in a while, things have worked out in my favour.

After I've gone over everything in my mind, I have to stop the slight smile from appearing on my face. I don't want to seem like a completely heartless bitch.

There was a point yesterday, during lunch, when I felt a pair of eyes on me. I had looked up and noticed Edward's eyes locked on me. He wouldn't look away, even as I stared right back at him. It was only for a few moments that our eyes met. It was a few moments, where there was no awkward apology from him, or unexplainable hostility from me. It was a few moments where we just looked. That was it.

I only looked away once I noticed another pair of eyes on me. Whereas Edward's gaze was curious and kind, Lauren's - who was sat to his left - glared at me with such hate in her eyes, that I felt like I was doing something wrong by merely glancing at Edward. I blushed and looked away, not daring to meet his eyes again.

This lunch time, just a day later, that same feeling washes over me. I feel a pair of eyes on me and cautiously look up to the center table, only just in time to watch Edward's head quickly turn away from me. It's obvious he was looking over here, but he didn't want to get caught. I sigh, looking down at my book once more.

A few minutes later, I feel eyes on me again, so I look up. He's staring, again, though this time he doesn't look away. We both stay frozen, gazing at one another for a while. Like yesterday, Lauren notices me looking over at them, and she glares at me. Today's glare is even more lethal than yesterday's, and a slight chill runs up my spine as she narrows her eyes into barely visible slits. I blush, just as I did yesterday, and look back down at my book.

I don't raise my head again, even as I feel more than one pair of eyes on me. Much more than just one.

~I*A*F*P*I*M~

The rest of the school week goes by rather slowly. Edward doesn't try to speak to me again. I don't see him in the halls, though I'm not surprised by that, seeing as I don't look up from the floor often enough. He stops sitting next to me in Biology, instead choosing a seat over at the front of the class, in the far left corner. Lauren and Jessica don't seem too pleased about this. He also avoids me at lunch, not coming close to the line if there's even a slight chance that he could end up standing close to me.

The staring across the cafeteria doesn't stop however. Every lunchtime, on the remaining three days of this school week, I can feel his eyes on me. For some reason, I can't stop myself from looking up at him, just as I did the first two days. I only allow myself a few seconds of staring back, before I lower my head and gaze down at my book.

There are no incidents with anyone else during school. No vandalism to my locker or bike, no insulting notes left somewhere for me to find. I'm shocked about this. Usually I have more than two things a week happen to me. I guess the humiliation on Monday was enough for them, at least for this week. I should be grateful, but it just worries me. What does this entail for me in the near future?

To be honest, the week is quite uneventful. At school, and at home. Well, this is a fact, until Saturday evening.

~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~

Saturday 22 April 2017

I wake on Saturday with a plan to do my chores, as well as anything else my mother may need, and then go to my meadow. After I've fully woken, and allowed my mind to catch up with the present reality, I realise that I can't do that. My meadow is an impossible dream now. It's unreachable. Unattainable.

This realisation sets my mood for the rest of the day, to one of misery.

I get dressed for the day, pulling on a pair of black Nike sweatpants, a black spaghetti-strap tank top and a thin grey oversized t-shirt, that's so oversized, it hangs off of one shoulder. I throw my hair up into a messy ponytail, not really caring about how it turns out. I'm going to be stuck indoors all day anyway, so what's the point?

I walk down stairs. Actually, it's more of a shuffle. I'm too unmotivated to pick my feet up properly. I reach the bottom of the stairs, just in time to see my mother putting on her beige trench coat... over her work clothes?

She looks up when the weight of my foot causes the bottom step underneath me to creak, a scowl on her face. "I'm running late," she huffs as she struggles with one of the buttons of her coat.

"O-kay..." I say slowly, thoroughly confused. "Late for what?" I ask when she remains silent, still fumbling with the button.

She sighs heavily, halting her movements to look up at me, a frown weighing down her features. "My new boss has asked, well, she's actually demanded that we all go into work today," she complains.

"Today? But it's a Saturday. You never work on a Saturday," I comment. I should know. I am at her beckon call every Saturday, retrieving and doing anything and everything she asks for, on top of my usual chores.

"Yes. I know that, Isabella," she says sharply, her frown deepening. "But our new boss would like to get to know us better. I just think it's a ploy to get us all under one roof, so she can make a decision on who to keep and who to let go," she says, her voice growing tight as she quietens noticeably at the end.

"What? So you may lose your job?" I question, worriedly biting my lip

"It's possible," she says before screeching, "AHA!" as the button fastens into place. "Right, I've got to go," she announces, scrambling for her purse and keys, before she swings open the door and leaves without another word.

I sigh as I walk into the kitchen, to search the cupboards for something to eat. My mind is preoccupied as I toast a slice of bread. What if my mother loses her job? Where will that put us? She's had the same job for as long as I can remember. It's all she knows, being a receptionist at a law firm in Port Angeles.

She's definitely going to be late. It's already 8:30AM and it takes an hour, on average, to drive from here to her place of work. I would not want to be in my mother's shoes when she steps foot in that building.

After eating my breakfast, I do my usual Saturday chores. Somehow, I finish earlier than my average time on a Saturday. A whole hour and a half earlier, to be exact. By midday I have cleaned all that I need to, wiped, mopped and dusted everything that is expected of me. It usually take me longer, because I always have my mother nagging me every so often, interrupting my progress whenever she wants something. Whether that be some food, or a glass - sometimes, if not most of the time, a bottle - of wine.

Normally, once I've completed my Saturday morning chores, I escape to my meadow. It's the highlight of my day, because I know that I have a few hours to myself, in the peace and quiet, before I have to return home and do the last remaining chores on my to-do list.

This is the first Saturday in a while where I have more time than normal to myself, and I can't do the one thing I want to do. Escape.

I spend the next hour lounging around the house. I try watching some TV, but can't get into anything. I try having a nap, but sleep doesn't claim me. I end up sat at our dining room table, playing Solitaire with a pack of cards, bored out of my mind. I haven't played this shit in so long, I can't even remember the rules. Is it black to red? Or is it matching suits?

I huff, angrily scooping up the cards into a pile. I glance out of the window that lines one end of the table, which is pressed up against the wall. The sun is shining brightly, and the sky is clear, except for the odd cloud disrupting the beautiful blue. I decide to get some fresh air, and quickly make my way upstairs to my room. I stuff my feet into a random pair of Converse high tops, which end up being my baby blue ones - possibly my brightest pair of shoes. I pick up the book I am currently reading, as well as another one, and a fleece blanket, before I rush down the stairs.

As soon as I step out of the back door, I realise that the appearance of the sun is a tad misleading today. The air is chilly, that biting spring breeze still making itself known. It's easy to tell that it's not summer just yet, despite the warmer weather over the past few days.

I walk over to the old hammock that sits at the end of our garden, under a tall tree with overhanging branches. They stretch out like the bony fingers of a witch, creating a claw of sorts. Masses of green leaves grow from the branches, helping it appear less menacing. It's the perfect shade for when the sun is at its highest in the sky, and glares directly onto the hammock.

I wrap myself in the blanket, glad I thought to bring it out with me. I sit on the hammock, and swing my legs up so I can lie down in the cocooning, striped material. After situating myself in a comfortable position, I remove my bookmark and begin to read. I finish my current book in no time, and then go on to the second book I picked up, happy I thought to bring this out, too.

This one is The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. I must have read this book about fifteen times now, and I cry like a baby every time. Today seems like a good day for a cry. I'm in a disheartened mood as it is, so it's not like I'll be ruining the atmosphere around me in any way.

After a few hours of reading, I decide to take a break. I place the book next to me and pull the blanket tighter around my body. The air has gotten colder, the breeze slightly stronger.

If I was in my meadow, this breeze would be perfect. The ground at my meadow is at a certain level, which I'm assuming is lower than here, where the breeze rests higher than ground level. So when I lie down, it blows over me without causing me to freeze. It's refreshing, even when it's chillier, like today.

My meadow... I'll never forget the pure beauty of the place, even if I never manage to go again. It will always be my sanctuary, my place of peace and solitude. Without it, I'll never have that again. I'll never be completely at peace. I'll never find somewhere like it, because there is no place like it. It's a one of a kind masterpiece.

And now it's gone. I can't go there again. One reason being, I'd have to trespass in order to reach it, which I'd rather not be caught doing again. The humiliation the first time was enough to deter me from that forever.

Since that dreadful day last weekend, when I stepped out of the tree line and realised what was happening, my thoughts have been continuously returning to my meadow. The inner pull towards it still remains. I'd give anything to be able to cut the emotional ties that bind me to it. But I also thrive on that last, imaginative connection I have left. It's the only thing keeping me sane, though it simultaneously drives me crazy.

I must doze off during the daydreams of my meadow, because some time later, I'm startled awake by a venomous hiss in my ear.

"Wake up!" the voice hisses. "Wake up, you stupid girl."

A/N: Sorry about the cliffy! Due to my cutting of chapters, these were necessary. But have no fear; I'll be back on Friday with a direct follow up from this chapter!Thanks for reading! Let me know you are reading by leaving a review! I'd really appreciate it! See you Friday!