A/N: So sorry this is almost two days late. I had a loved one's birthday to celebrate and didn't consider warning you in my previous chapter that this would be posted later than usual. I promise, if there are any future delays I know of beforehand, I'll let you know.
Please read the bottom A/N. I have something I want to ask my readers. Anyway, until you reach the bottom, 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
Previously...
"You're going to get up them stairs and get dressed into something, anything other than... that," she says, gesturing to my outfit with a look of disgust on her face. "And then you're going to go to that party and you're going to mingle. Talk to people."
I'm so shocked that my mouth drops open. I snap it closed, only for it to hang open again. "B-b-but... I wasn't invited. I'll never be allowed inside," I argue pathetically, after finally recovering from my shock.
"I don't care, Isabella. You'll do as I say. I don't want to be known as the woman whose daughter is a loner. Who's daughter is such a useless piece of shit she didn't even go to the party everyone else's kid is going to. I will not be viewed any differently then my friends," she tells me, walking towards me slowly, moving a step with every sentence she says. I cower away, matching her steps with retreating ones of my own, but get obstructed when my back hits a wall.
"Okay," I whisper to the floor, slipping away from her to escape to my room.
"Shower, too. You stink."
Chapter Fifteen: 'Don't be a b*tch!' (Bella POV)
Tuesday 9 May 2017
I wait on the stairs for a few moments, waiting and listening as she walks into the kitchen and she checks the oven. After some time has passed, and I hear no shouting about what I've chosen for dinner, I hurry up the stairs.
What am I going to do? I can't just turn up at the Mayor's house uninvited. I'll be laughed at even more.
I could use this as an opportunity to go and see my dad. But it's getting dark and I don't have the guts to walk into the cemetery at night. I think about other places I could go as I have a quick shower. My meadow flits through my mind momentarily, but I scrap that idea pretty quickly. Not worth the hassle of getting caught.
Oh, I know!
An idea comes to mind, and I smile to myself as I turn the shower off and step out. There is one place I haven't been in a while. No one will be there at this time, especially seeing as it's Rosalie's party. I dry my hair with the hair dryer, before running a brush through it. I go to my room and over to my wardrobe. I don't need to dress in anything party worthy with where I plan on going... but then Renee would get suspicious.
I sigh as I pull out an outfit I could wear to a party, but one that's also suitable for where I am actually going. I pull on a pair of black tights, a plain black t-shirt, and a black and burgundy plaid suspender skirt over it. I pull on my burgundy Converse high tops, and a burgundy knitted cardigan. I stand in front of the mirror that hangs on the wall by my wardrobe for a while and finally, after much mental consideration, deem the outfit okay to go. I quickly scrape my hair into a half up, half down hairstyle and dab a bit of mascara on after reapplying some of the cover up I wear on a daily basis. I then grab my bag, making sure I pack my cell phone, headphones, journal and pen, before I head back downstairs.
My mom is sat at the kitchen table eating pizza and fries when I walk in. My stomach growls, alerting me to the fact that I haven't eaten at all today. I haven't eaten since lunch time yesterday. And that wasn't much; just a pack of Gummi Bears. God. I'm hungry. My mom looks up at the sound my stomach makes, assessing my outfit before she pushes the pizza tray towards me. I hurry towards it, placing a couple of pieces onto a napkin as I mumble a "thank you". She grunts in response, stuffing another piece into her mouth. The way she is munching her dinner is beginning to dispel me of my appetite. I almost want to leave the pizza behind, but I know I'll regret that decision as soon as I leave.
As she shoves a handful of fries past her lips, I decide to leave. After quickly grabbing a bottle of water, I leave the kitchen, throwing a "goodbye" over my shoulder as I go.
My mom makes a noise of protest as I hear her chair scrape. "Don't fuck up," she shouts at me, and then she waves me away. She doesn't say "have fun" or "be good", like a normal parent would. She isn't normal though.
As soon as I'm on the sidewalk, I stop to plug my headphones into my cell phone and put them over my ears. After accessing my Playlist and pressing play, I pocket my phone. I then return my bag to my back, pick up my pizza piled napkin from where I'd balanced it on top of the mailbox, and begin the trek to my destination.
Forks has one playground. It's actually on the same route as if I was going to Rosalie's. It's surrounded by a rusty metal fence, its yellow paint job slowly chipping away. There's a jungle gym with a slide and monkey bars, and a swing set made up of four swings, two for infants and two for older kids. There's also a seesaw and a roundabout. It's good for younger kids. I used to love it here.
It takes me about fifteen minutes to walk to the playground from my house. It would take me another ten minutes or so to make it to Rosalie's house. As I come up to the playground gate, I slip my headphones off my head to around my neck so I can listen out for music. I'm surprised I can't hear any even though I'm still quite a few blocks away from her house. I don't know what time the party starts, but it's almost 8pm. That's a good time for a party full of teens to be well underway, right? I wouldn't know.
The gate creeks as I open it, a sign that it's in need of some oil. I go to the jungle gym that stands in the center of the fenced playground and climb the ladder, sitting at the top of the platform linked to the slide. There's monkey bars in front of me that lead to another platform, which is attached to a bridge that ends on yet another platform. That one is accessible via a rope net.
It sounds like a big piece of equipment, but in reality, it's not. The slide is boringly straight and all of the platforms are at the same height, about 5 feet off the ground. The framework is all in red, and the rope net is yellow.
I ate all of my pizza on the way here, and dumped the napkin into the bin by the playground gate as I walked in. Once I'm sat down on the cold metal of the platform, I turn my music off, packing my headphones away in my bag. I sit for a while, leaning up against the red metal bars that border the platform. In silence.
The air is cold and contains that biting chill that most spring nights do. I pull my knitted cardigan tighter around myself. The playground isn't directly beside the treeline that surrounds Forks. It's in the middle of a street, with houses at every angle. The bristling of the trees, however, can be heard from here. When it is silent, like at night, it's easy to hear the movement of the trees from pretty much any point in town. There are so many around us, it makes it quite hard to get away from.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the bars. I could stay here, in this exact moment, forever. It's so peaceful. No people to piss me off, to hurt me or upset me. No interruptions of my solitude. No pain. It's perfect. I could happily freeze time and-
"Bella?" a voice says from down below. My eyes snap open, my heart picking up speed. I slowly sit up, leaning over the edge of the climbing frame so I can see the owner of the voice. So much for no interruptions.
I almost groan in frustration when I see him. He is stood at the bottom of the slide, looking up at me. The street lamps that are spread out along the edge of the sidewalks luminate a good portion of the playground. His face is visible in the artificial light. His bronze hair is in its usual wayward style, but the ends appear almost golden in the light. His face has an orange hue cast upon it, highlighting his cautious expression. My immediate reaction is to tell him to fuck off, but I bite my tongue.
I slowly look away, showing no interest as I lean back against the bars once more. "What are you doing here, Edward?" I ask, successfully making my voice sound bored, like I'd rather watch paint dry than be involved in this conversation.
"I went for a walk and decided to stop here. To my surprise, I saw you sat here when I entered," he says. I turn my face to the side, to look at him in disbelief. He cocks an eyebrow.
"Believe it or not, Bella, I don't follow you around," he says, the hint of a smirk peeking through his otherwise neutral voice. I wouldn't know if he is actually smirking though; I'm back to looking ahead of me, away from him.
I hear his footsteps against the gravel as he walks around the back of me. He stops for a second on my right, at the bottom of the ladder. I can see his form out the corner of my eye. I don't turn to look at him. I listen as he sighs, as his hands rub against the metal when he wraps his fingers around the bars, as his feet clang against the ladder rungs. In less then two steps upward, he's sat beside me, in the same position to how we sit in the library. How we should've been sat today.
I think back to lunch. Back to seeing him sat at that table. Back to realising when he didn't come to my aid after I fell. Back to the hurt and betrayal I felt. All the emotions come rushing back and I instinctively clench my hands into fists as I hang my head to hide the tightening in my jaw. I don't want him knowing how much his betrayal has affected me.
It's affected me more than I care to admit. It's only after he blew me off, after he made the decision to not meet me and to not help me, that I realised how dependant I have become on him. Those two meetings a week have become the only reason I look forward to school, the only reason I've been eager to get out of bed and face a day with the rest of the nightmare teens I have to be around. Maybe it's not even the meetings in the library, maybe it's who I am meeting that has become so important to me. Edward has slowly grown to be a friend - my only friend. And I didn't realise until today how much I have valued that. I've become reliant on it, on him. And that's bad. Very, very bad.
"Look, Bella, I'm-" he starts, but I stop him before he has the chance to finish his sentence. I already know what he's going to say.
"Shouldn't you be at a party right now?" I ask, interrupting him. He sits silently beside me for a moment, fidgeting. I think he's pissed off that I stopped him from speaking, but the truth is, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear his apologies and excuses. It's only words at the end of the day.
"Um," he clears his throat, "I should be, yes," he answers, his voice small.
"Then why are you here?" I ask curtly, all the while keeping my eyes ahead of me. I can sense his anger building. He's getting frustrated with me. Good.
"Bella, don't be like this," he sighs.
"Like what?" I ask, acting clueless as I shrug.
"Don't be a bitch!" he says sharply. I sit up suddenly, turning to face him fully for the first time since he came and sat up here with me. I sit with my legs folded underneath me, my feet to my left at the edge of the platform, keeping constant check that my skirt is draped suitably over my thighs. I stare at him, my anger at his words bubbling over the edge.
"Excuse me?" I ask, my eyebrows practically touching my hairline. I can tell by Edward's straight face that he meant to say that. There's no shock, guilt or regret. His words were purposeful. "How dare y-" I start. He cuts me off.
"Good. An emotion other than indifference," he states, casually crossing his legs at the ankles, where they hang over the edge of the small platform. He arches one eyebrow as he stares at me.
"Wh... huh?" I ask, utterly confused.
"I knew that would get a rise from you, Bella. The hard ass routine was getting on my nerves," he replies matter-of-factly.
"Hard ass routine? I'm not... I don't know what you're talking about," I say, stubborn as I look away.
"Yes, you do," he says firmly. He pauses like he's waiting for something, so I slowly meet his eyes. He softens his gaze and his voice as he speaks again. "You're acting like you don't give a fuck about anything that happened today. But I can see how much it hurt you, Bella. Let me explain. Let me apologise."
He places his hand on top of mine that's laying, palm facing down, beside me. A tingly feeling shoots up my arm from the back of my hand, all the way to my collarbone and neck.
I instantly yank my hand away. "Don't," I demand, my quiet voice contradicting the strength I had intended to speak with. He holds his hand up, the one he just used to touch mine. I glare at him for a moment, before hesitantly nodding my head once, silently telling him to say what he wants to.
"I... I'm sorry. I really am. I was just being a coward, and I'll admit it. I was a fucking coward." He chuckles darkly as he looks away from me, dropping his eyes to his lap. His fingers begin fiddling with the zip of the leather jacket that he is wearing over a light grey t-shirt. I remain silent, unsure of how to respond to his confession.
Eventually, he continues speaking. "I can't work out how you live through that everyday, being stared at and having constant attention on you. I'd... I'd hate it. I did hate it... That's why I stayed away today. I was in two minds whether to meet with you like I usually do. I just... I hated those few moments of attention so much, I bottled it. I'm a coward and I'm sorry."
I keep my lips sealed tightly for the following minutes. I don't know how many pass, but Edward's look of desperation reaches a pathetic point, and I take pity on him. "So... what does this mean? Why are you apologising to me if you hated it so much?" I ask. I try to keep my voice casual, like I'm not really bothered. I succeed. But, inside, I'm the complete opposite of my composed exterior. Inside I'm dying to know his reason for apologising. I so badly want to know why.
"I guess I..." he stops and closes his eyes, taking a calming breath before he opens his eyes again and stares directly into mine. "When I saw your face earlier today, when you stood from the ground after you fell, and you looked right at me, I felt like..." He sighs. "I felt like a piece of shit. I felt disgusted with myself. I just... I watched you fall and I didn't even help. You looked so disappointed in me, and I hated that."
"Why? You don't owe me anything," I retort.
"It's not that I feel like I owe you something, Bella. It's more that I... I consider you as a friend. One of my closest friends if I'm being honest. Yeah, we may not spend loads of time together. But I enjoy the small amount that we do. I look forward to our two lunches a week in the library," he says as he raises his head to smirk at the end. I release a heavy breath, pulling myself back to my original position, sat beside Edward with my legs stretched out in front of me.
"Friends?" I ask. We've never named what we are. I've been hoping that we were friends, but after the events of today, I wasn't too sure. I have to hear him say it again. I need to hear it again.
"Yes, friends... if you'd like?" he asks me hesitantly.
"I... I would. Thank you," I answer, turning my head to the side so I can view his face. His brows knit together as his head turns to me. Luckily we aren't sat as close as we do in the library, so our faces aren't touching as he does this. We are still quite close though.
"Why are you thanking me?" he asks.
I blush and look away with a shrug. Stupid Bella. He's right. Why am I thanking him? Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"Um, I don't actually know. I just... I don't have a lot of friends, if you've noticed," I chuckle quietly. He smiles sadly at me. I frown at the pitying look on his face, until I realise it's not pity. It's because he cares about me. I'm his friend. A friend. I feel like jumping up and down or doing some kind of happy dance.
"Wait!" My good mood suddenly vanishes, or it dims at least. There is still one problem. The issue that started all of today's downfalls. "What about the attention? You said so yourself, you hated the staring and judging from everyone. That's not going to magically stop. We'll still get stared at and whispered about. What are we going to do?" I ask.
"Well I, um, I thought about this. Now, please don't feel offended. You can tell me how much of a dick I am for asking this if you want, but I was hoping that, um, maybe we could continue to meet in the library. Secretly. Just for now," he suggests.
I feel a part of my happiness deflate at his suggestion. A part of me instantly regrets asking the question. But then I think about it. About how Edward has just moved here. He won't want the hateful glares and nasty jokes about him being made. He won't want to be at the receiving end of any of that.
"Okay," I whisper, forcing a small smile onto my face. I agree because it's the right thing to do. I agree because he's my friend and I should want to make his life easier. That's what friends do, right?
"You're sure?" he asks. I nod. He smiles widely. "Great. That's fantastic," he beams as he leans back against the metal bars, smiling happily.
"So, how come you're here and not at Rosalie's birthday party?" I ask. He dodged the question earlier.
"It's my fucking sister. She's driving me crazy!" he exclaims angrily. I try not to giggle.
"Oh yeah. Did you ask one of them to be your date in the end?" I ask.
"Pfft. No," he answers, like it's an obvious fact. "I said I wouldn't and I stuck by that. But my sister is on a mission. She kept demanding me to fetch Lauren a drink and asked if Jessica could sit on my lap because there weren't any more places for her to sit." My eyes bug out of my head as he says this. "There were plenty of fucking places for her to sit. Alice was just being her usual intruding, meddling self," he says with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest aggressively.
His elbow hits my bruised tricep as he does so, and I unintentionally yelp out loud. Edward's head whips in my direction, concern shining in his eyes. I close mine briefly, counting to ten to calm my racing heart down. My arm throbs but I shake it a bit, wincing internally, to show him that I'm okay. Once he sees I'm 'okay', or so he thinks, he continues on with his story.
"I told Alice 'no'. I did not want Jessica to use me as a seat." We both shudder in unison. He is probably imagining that, too. "Alice asked me to get another drink for Lauren, and I used that as my chance to escape. I was fucking bored anyway," he admits.
"And you decided to go on a walk?" I ask.
"Yep." He nods. "Alice was my ride, so..." he trails off with a shrug. "God. Sometimes, I really wish I was an only child. Like you!" he says.
"No you don't," I mumble under my breath, but Edward catches my words anyway.
"Why?" he asks. I sense his eyes on my face, but I can't bring myself to look at him.
"Because..." I stop to think of a decent answer, but only one comes to mind. "It's lonely," I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Why do you say that?" he questions. I shrug. "Well, what about your parents?" he asks. I sigh.
"My mom is... she's... difficult," I answer, choosing my words wisely.
"And your dad?" Edward asks after I don't carry on speaking. I was done talking to be honest. There was nothing more for me to add to my answer. Edward's question shocks me. It shocks me so much, that I actually turn to face him. My heart begins racing as I feel the colour drain from my face.
"You... you don't know?" I ask as I search his eyes. "They haven't told you?" I ask, shocked.
"Told me what?" he asks. I search some more, but only see the truth of his complete lack of knowledge of this.
I was sure they would have blabbed as soon as he started hanging around with them.
"Blabbed about what?" Edward asks me. I said that out loud? My eyes jump to Edward's, caught off guard by his question. "What don't I know?" He's getting impatient.
"Oh, um... my father, he's... um, he... he's dead," I stutter over my words until I eventually force them from between my lips.
Edward's mouth hangs open in response. He's silent. Speechless. "I'm so sorry. He... he's... when?" he asks me hesitantly, emotion seeming to choke his words as he speaks. I look away from his face again, drawing my knees up to my chest to wrap my arms around them.
"2010," I reply quietly.
"So you were ten?" Edward asks for verification.
I nod silently, unable to reply verbally. A lump has begun to form in the back of my throat.
Edward contributes to the silence. I'm worried for a moment that he'll ask how my father died. I don't think I can handle retelling it all at this moment in time. But, to my surprise, Edward doesn't ask. And for some reason, the fact that he doesn't push for answers to feed his curiosity makes me feel even more emotional.
I'm helpless as a tear slips from my eye. Another slowly follows, and it's not long before a consistent stream of tears comes pouring down my face. My heartache over losing my dad, in addition to Edward's thoughtfulness, turn me into a blubbering mess.
I feel his arm slip around my shoulders. He pulls me to his side, and I willingly lean against him, sobbing into his leather jacket. He allows me to cry it all out, as he sits silently and rubs his hand up and down my arm gently.
A/N: Yay, they're friends! And Bella has opened up a bit about personal things. Progress! Do you think it will be long before more progess is made between these two?I know it's been Bella chapters for a while now, so if you're waiting for an Edward pov, I can tell you that there are 2 more Bella chapters after this one, and then we're back to hearing from Edward's side for a little while.
I know that I haven't had any reviews in the last few chapters, but to be honest, that isn't going to stop me from posting this because I'm enjoying posting my content too much! Though I would love to hear people's thoughts on my story, just knowing that some are adding it to their favourites is enough for me. I'm enjoying this whole process immensely because I've had thia story in the works for a while and it feels good to gradually be getting it uploaded. Which leads me to what I wanted to ask you guys...
I have a few more stories in the works. They're no where near as ready as this one was/is, but I'm planning them and some chapters have already been written for a couple of them. I was just wondering, is my style of writing enjoyable? What I'm really wanting to know, is, would you read something else by me? I'd love to know your answers, and also if you have any tips or improvements I could make to my style of writing. You can let me know in a review, or in a PM. Even if it's just a thumbs up emoji, , I'll be happy with it.
Anyway, that's it 'till Monday. Not long to wait at all!! Thanks for reading! :) See ya next time!!