A/N: (IMPORTANT!!!!!!)

All right. Here it is. I plan to redo the whole story starting from chapter 1-recent chapter(s). Quite frankly, I am not satisfied with the. . . words in the story. The story, the plot, will remain the same. Alright fine, a few twists, but the same ending and the same events. BUT, I want it a bit more. . . refined. Modified. I need your input on this, though. Would you like me to do a redo, or not? If not, then I'd just write another story. But I really want to redo it. REALLY.

So it you'd kindly read it through and say, "Hmm . . . Yes, I suppose she could've done better," then I'd redo it.

But seeing as I wouldn't like a story I was reading to be redone, and I'd like it the old way, I would hate it to do that to you. I mean, it's like your watching a TV show and then your sibling comes and changes the channel. I mean, WHAT THE. . . ?

So, the decision is yours.

Carry on.


Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight

Chapter 12

Am I asking for too much? I'm only asking happiness! Let's tally it up, shall we? First, she introduces me to the Cullens, I fell in love, she forbids me to see them, and then now, now she's mad at me. But she should be mad at me, why? Both of my parents seem cold to each other these days, almost as if they were mad at each other. And my father looks like he had just been caught doing a crime.

"What did I do?!" I screamed at my pillow. And just like that, the whole world darkened. The clouds turned dense and stormy, exacting my mood.

I was sobbing-drenching my dress, my bed covers as well as my pillow, when my dearest mother came in. Her face had only soften a tad bit, but her cold exterior went back. A glimpse at her face and I could somewhat tell-there was something they were hiding from me. Something she doesn't want me to know.

"Your going to ruin your dress," she told me only a tad bit warmly. I pivoted, looking at her with my puffy, red eyes and for a second, I could see pain in them. But like any lady of society, a good actress is she, she covered it up. "I trust you wish to know the reasons for my behaviors?" asked she, composedly.

"Suppose you tell me," I tell her.

Bitterness came back to her face. "Truth don't always set you free," she tells me-her tone reprimanding and cold.

"Ignorance is bliss, I suppose," I matched her tone, though mine seemed a bit more hollow than hers.

She replies, "But, I suppose you should know."

What she is about to tell me then, makes my eyes bug out. I was right-ignorance is bliss.

"You cannot possibly. . . . " arrange marriage with me to the most despicable man known to history!!

"Bella, we have no other choice," she pleads.

"Why them?" I ask roaring and thundering. For all I care, those painted ladies of society reprimand me-they have cursed me! The very rules of society betrayed me! It's most religious follower!

I have collapsed under my bed again."All my life, I have devout it for you-for the ladies of the society. I have acted, as you wish, done everything in order and tried at every single thing you asked me to. All my life I've never acted rebelliously. Well, now I shall."

"Acting rebelliously won't work, Bella. I know, we haven't considered your feelings. But there is nothing we could do, not now. Or would you rather be on the streets begging?" Her tone was back to the bitter, sarcastic one.

"Am I your offering then?" I retorted.

"You know, Bella, sometimes people make lots of mistakes and sacrifices." Her tone makes me look up. Her eyes look far away from Forks and her face showed longing.

"I thought. . . we were wealthier. I thought the Mallory's were below us." I say not beyond a whisper.

"They are. But when they fell, they brought us with them. We didn't know, but they had acted too. They outsmarted us and now we're in their mercy. As I've said, Bella, we have no other choice," she adds gently, pleadingly, softly.

I nod in reply.

"We are to dine with them in the fortnight, discussing the plans." That was all she said before she quietly stepped out and closed the door behind her. So my father had lied to me about their meeting.

The next few days, I came back to my depressed state never going out past the threshold of my room. I stayed there-reading and writing poetry. Fantasizing of Edward and I getting married, instead of the horrible James Mallory.

But on Friday-just before we have dinner with the Mallory's on Sunday- a tap comes into my door. "Go away," I say, my voice weary. I have been saying this all week. But the resounding sigh belongs not to any of the servants, my father-whom lied to me about the Mallory's being here- or my mother's. It was high, and melodic and musical. I haven't heard it for over a week. The voice pleads,"Bella, do open the door, I beg of you!" I refuse to get up from my bed. "Alright, come in," I concede.

The black haired pixie followed by the deity slowly approach me. Their faces are creased with pity, worry and shock as they take in my appearance. "Dear me," Rosalie mutters. They quicken there pace, hurriedly they go to my bedside.

"Bella, you look like you can't even lift your finger!" Alice cries as Rosalie quickly agrees.

"There's no more point of dressing up. I have a plan to defy society," I reply, "maybe then, Mr. Mallory would not so much as look at me any longer and finds himself another wife-Ms. Lyle perhaps."

"Bella, don't give up hope!!" Alice grabs both my frail, bony wrists. "Look at you! Pity you, who are you replacing our best friend and made her a weakling? She who already defied society, she who had good grammar and she .. . . she who had courage to face no matter what! She who faced anything! Tell me what happened to her?" Alice asks.

"What's the point, Alice? Tell me!" I demand throwing the covers. "Tell me why should I try! Tell me, because I see none! My heart-it's ripped and thrown. I feel nothing; I am hollow!"

"Bella," Rosalie shouts. "Look, you're not alone, you know. Tell you what, you change, wash and everything, I'll tell you a story."

I was about to say, "Oh goody, story time!" or tell her that that won't really calm me, but something in Alice's solemn features silenced my tongue.

Rosalie cleared her throat as she began: "My parents, they arranged marriage for me, too.I drank in people's admiration towards my beauty. My family had lower status than yours-my father was a banker. One day, they announced the heir to the bank-the King's," I knew the Kings Royal Bank well, "son was coming. Conveniently, my mother dressed my in one of my Sunday's best-sending me off to the bank since my father had,'forgotten his lunch.'

The plan went well, Roy did notice me. He did more than notice. He began to court me." Rosalie rolled her eyes. Sarcasm dripped her tone like that's all there was. I've never heard her so bitter and less cheerful. With a sigh, she continued. "To cut you the boredom, he proposed to me. I loved him and I thought he loved me." Her eyes turned the coldest, iciest, blue I have ever seen. I could feel the chill as if we were in the arctic.

"When we've reached the point of only four weeks left 'till the ceremony, I visited my friend, Vera. Her husband was in the army and they had just come back to town after some business to attend too. She was a very dear friend of mine and it was very late at night when I finally took my leave. She couldn't escort me back because, I had learned, that she had just delivered a son! I assured her, and her husband, that I would be fine. After that night, I'd never walk alone again.

I saw them, slurring and tripping in their drunken stupor. They could hardly walk straight, their arms were woven together. I was lucky they didn't have a bottle with them. Goodness knows what they'd do." It seemed hard for her to go on talking. She looked down at her lap and smoothened her skirt.

"I guess alcohol loosens ones tongue a bit-maybe one's true self too. Or maybe it was that alcohol makes one violent. I don't know! I've never had alcohol other than brandy-ed foods after that night!

I never thought to worry-or maybe I did. But Royce was there, and he'd drunk on engagement parties in my presence-like Alice,his mother adored parties and was a wonderful hostess. But then, something changed.

His eyes-it was as if they didn't see me rather than insignificant girl. His mouth: twisted into some form of hate. When they came 'round about me, they only started taunting. Then when I detected that Royce in fact didn't see me, I tried to walk, run any means of escape. But they had encircle me then and one female against seven sports men was hardly a fair fight. But I was always known for my sense of. . . not being able to be trampled.

I guess that theory was never tested-or maybe it was, just, in a more. . . feminine way, which is, talking. What they did next was. . . They ripped my. . . brass buttons apart. It was from Royce's aunt too. And, well. . . . I'm sure you'd guess what happened. I'd never met anyone as cruel as them. . . " Her sniffs turned to sobs and tears poured down like waterfalls on her porcelain face. It was only when, Alice had put her arms 'round both of us and when my vision blurred, that I realized I was crying.

"How did you. . . um. . . survived?" I ask between sniffs.

"My brothers were on the same pub-and way- that. . . . they were in. Hence they met. Luckily, they had only.. . undid the brass buttons. Also Rosalie was lucky because my brothers are quite. . . able." Alice replied. Rosalie was too much of a mess to cry. To think of Rosalie.

When one sees Rosalie you'd see a tenacious, spirited women. One who'd follow her rules while being the best model one could think of. The first time I'd seen Rosalie cry, you'd doubt. She was a mess, like me. So vulnerable, breakable. But it seemed that she liked to cry about it. If I were here, I couldn't talk about it. Or live with myself.

When we had sobered up, after a long moment of silence, I asked Rosalie, "How are you able to talk about it?"

She smiled at me gently, tenderly, motherly. "I am able to talk about it because I'm over it. I've done it. I'm past the past. The Lord, Esme, Emmett, Alice, Carlisle doctoring me, and yes, even Edward," my heart thumped at his name and they smiled at me pointedly, "they've all helped me. I'm like you. Like your case." She smiled at me again.

"What case?" I asked, confused.

"We don't mean to brag, Bella. But. .. " She looked at Alice.

"When you first came to us, you were as prim as. . . that shop's mannequin. You were pale, hardly blushed. I don't know if you even laughed." Alice explained. "Do you see yourself when your with Edward? Can you explain?"

I pondered for a moment, "When I'm with Edward-not even. When I hear him, think of him,I smile, I flutter. It's as if. . . all of you were sent by God. That's that in a nutshell. I have to tell you something though."I looked down at my lap.

They appeared to listen. "The. . . real reason, I suppose, James and I. . . broke off our engagement the first time. Well, we met. . . when father's new business aroused. A fishing business and James' father was to attend to it-he was very good at managing. Everything seemed alright, we were close enough at sea. We transported it to Canada, even. In Vancouver, it's quite near us. In fact, I've been there.

My brother never appeared to like him and he always found fault when we started courting. He said he looked at me like. .. like a prize. He said that he's supposed to look at me more like a sun. Well he saw James. . . dealing. He saw him. . . smoke. . . . illegal substance. He told me; I didn't think much of it. I didn't confront James, but he was getting far and distant then. Then, at one party-which you'd all guess the Malones'- he saw him do it again. But my brother proved it, and both James and my brother were booted out.

My brother joined the army then, and the rest, you should know. James broke off the engagement. His sister hated me. Now the reason my father wants an arranged marriage is this. The fishing business without Mr. Mallory is downsizing and he's saying he might need too. . . lay off people.

When they fired Mr. Mallory first though, the business was doing well. They (Mallory's) were devastated, of course. But he threatened a good many people and most of his colleagues disliked him. But with him, he brought the ability to negotiate.

Now my father wants him back and Mr. Mallory won't do it till he see to it that a proper marriage would be hailed. We're dependent on him now, and I hate it." Now I took a big huff of a breath. "What's more, he lied to me. He made the arrangement while we had our ladies' fun. He said he loved me. . . " I trailed off looking at my two best of friends.

In desperation, I uttered, "Oh, what shall I do?"

"First," commanded Alice, "we must bow ourselves to pray. That's what mom would say."

I nodded, "In Italy-I've been there you know and a quarter of my life I have- they like to pray. We still go to church today, actually. And, my relative is in the ministry."

So we prayed. Then after that, Alice rose. "I will formulate a plan. I know these things, Bella. You won't marry James, not if I can help it!" Strong-willed, she paced, I mean, marched around my room like I sometimes saw father did.

With one last look, she told me, "I have. . . . a plan." Then a strange smile occupied her tiny face.


Alice has a plan. . . . .-smiles mischievously- hehehehe. I think this chapter's longer than I've done. So what do you think? Needs redoing? Undoing? Let me know with a convenient review!!

P.S. Bella might seem a bit. . . spoiled bratty. But, imagine this: You are in love with EDWARD CULLEN, in turn, he loves you back. Then suddenly, your parents say you can't see him because they've conveniently arranged for you a person who broke your heart and. . . basically tore your family. To make things clear, James IS one of the reasons Tom, Bella's brother, does not live with them anymore.

Please review. . .