First, I have to say something that's been bothering me for awhile. I've read in quite a few places that putting links up instead of just describing an object or person is really, really lazy and possibly a makes an author who does this a terrible writer. Personally, I describe the object/person and put up a link, but that's because I want my readers to get more of an idea what this thing or person looks like. I want the people reading my story to know what I'm talking about. Links always seem to help the story become more real to me; I've always assumed the same for others. How does that make a writer lazy or terrible?

My rant is over. So another thank you to my reviewers; Sierra Sierra, OTH luvs EC, jinxedlies, Gothic Saku-chan, Just. A. Let. Down, and sagaaddict.

I just want to make sure it's clear that the italics mean someone's either accenting a point, is having a flashback, or having a vision.

Sorry about the length! It got out of hand!

Those Red Eyes

By Zephyr

I looked at the girl in the mirror, not recognizing the person staring dully back at me. It was me, but I was a whole new girl now—a girl who had three half-vampires growing inside her. It was so odd that the old Bella Swan was looking back at the one who felt so new, so different inside. I had to be strong for my unborn children. Sulking was no longer an option. I have to get over Edward—or at least pretend to—and make a new life for myself out there in the big world. Never would I have to cross paths with him again. He made it obvious he doesn't love me. When he came back after he ran away from us the first time, he promised to never leave again. But he did, and it hurt more this time, despite going through the heartbreak once before.

Edward can't love me. If he did, he never would've left the first time.

Two weeks after Jaxon and Cierra left after bombarding me with the news and giving the simple message 'We'll keep in touch'(which they hadn't). Two weeks may not seem very long for vampires, but for us humans, it's forever.

The lack of vampires was beginning to unsettle me. For my plan to work, I need my vamps. Renee can't know my situation; they have to come back before I start to show—if you know what I mean—even more than I already am. Mom just thinks I'm gaining back weight after my deep depression stage. I won't be able to keep up this excuse for very long. I need to escape. There's nothing else I can do.

I would go out to look for them tonight, but my mother made plans for the three of us—her ,Phil, and I—to have a 'family bonding' night at a theatre. About three days ago, Renee came home flashing tickets to a hit musical called Wicked or something to that extent. I used my brand new laptop to do a small amount of research on the musical so I wasn't totally uninformed and discovered it was popular and well liked tale; it was actually a prequel to the Wizard of Oz. I still remember that story for when I was younger.

Wicked was the story of the Wicked Witch of the West and her trials of growing up green, misunderstood, and hated by everyone, especially Glinda.

I closed down the laptop before I runined the show for myself. I was determined to enjoy the musical with my mother.

A few hours later I was alone in my room, rereading Wuthering Heights. The show was set to begin at about five in the afternoon and lasts around two and a half hours, ending around seven.

This copy of Wuthering Heights was symbolic to me. It was my entire healing process. I've had the exact same copy ever since I was twelve and everytime I my heart decided to ache, I would pull out the book and read until my eyes hurt more than my heart did. My mother eventually found out and pushed me to throw it away, but I never could.

Why? I just can't. It all still hurts. And now it does even more than the initial day he left for the last time.

It was an oddly rainy day in Phoenix, almost Forks behavior, and I was lying on my bed with no end to my extreme boredom when Renee knocked quietly on my door, handing me a medium sized shipping box that was much heavier than it looked. "Umm, mom? Where did this come from?"

"It came for you, in the mail, Bella."

She left me to deal with the mysterious box, and to ponder who would send me something like this. Of course, my question was answered as soon as I opened the first flap, revealing an envelope taped to the inside. It was pretty had to miss. When I opened the envelope, Charlie's scribbles welcomed me. Charlie. That was good. Maybe I'd only left something back in Forks.

Isabella,

I renovated like you were asking me to. I was redoing the stairs, since they were old, and I could hear them squeaking every time you came home. Anywho, I found this beneath the bottom step and figured it was yours.

—Charlie—

Short and sweet. So like Charlie. But under the stairs? I never hid anything there; I would know if I had. The thoughts made curiosity bubble in the pit of my stomach, beginning to overwhelm me.

I love mysteries.

My hand dug hungrily through the thick layer of white packaging material, making the stuff fall out of the box. Oh well, I would get the vacuum out later. That job had to be done anyway. I paused my simplistic musing abruptly when my hands felt wood. Carefully, I lifted the object out and set it on the floor. It was a box...within a box. How fun.

But unlike the ordinary, everyday packing & shipping box, this one was a masterpiece. The wood was a beautiful red color with small curved lines adorning it. The lines flowed in gentle circles, swirling together to make patterns of simple beauty. My name was carved in the middle of the hinged lid, the lines circling it as if it were the most important thing. It was the most amazing object I've ever held and it was made just for me.

I brushed my hand along my cheek, feeling tears. The only person who could make something so beautiful is Edward. Only Edward.

My hands shook as I placed them on either sides of lid lid, bracing myself to open something that could end up so painful. Taking a deep breath to prepare myself for a shock of memories, my careful hands lifted the lid. Whatever my irrational mind was expecting, it wasn't this.

On top of a piece of red silk—which was obviously hiding something beneath it—was a single sheet of lined paper. On that little piece of paper were words that burned my heart to the core. Words that made my silent tears turn into full-out sobs.

Bella, no matter what, I love you. ~ Edward

But those words were lies. Just another bunch of lies I could add to the list. He doesn't love me. He didn't just leave me once, but twice. I was just a human girl whose blood sang to him, so he stuck around until that girl got boring.

I was nobody.

Tears still blurring my vision, I put the paper to the side and lifted out the silk. I'd barely done that when I gasped in pure pain at what was nestled at the bottom. Charlie hadn't snooped—if he had, this box would never have been given to me.

They were pictures—dozens of them. Most of them had me and Edward in them with various moods playing across our features. It was a documentation of our whole life before the love Edward had for me died. "Alice." I was hardly aware I even uttered her name. She was the only one who would do this. I rummaged swiftly through the pictures, noticing some were of the other Cullen's too. I tried my hardest not to linger, because if I did, then I would never be able to stop my tears.

I'll never forget.

I replaced everything, holding the box close. Now, it could never be a dream.

Since that day, I haven't had the courage to pull the box from it's hiding place under the bed to look at those pictures. They showed my happy days—happy days I would never forget. Happy days that now only give me pain.

Suddenly my door opened without a sound to reveal Renee. How strange...she usually knocks. "Bella, come on. You have to get ready. We're leaving within the hour!" She was practically singing. "Actually, I'll help you find an outfit to wear." Great, now my mother's turning into another Alice. That's really not good.

"Mom—"

"Uh-uh." She narrowed her eyes and made a point of looking away from my pleading expression. "That will not work on me this time. You've got to look nice at a place like this; it's expected."

"What? Can't I just wear—"

"No," She interrupted again, predicting my thoughts. "You will not wear those clothes to the theatre, Bella!"

I looked down, noting my favorite jeans and a plain, light green shirt I didn't remember putting on. Then again, I don't remember much anymore. There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing!" I think.

Renee tisked. "No there's no, if you were planning to stay here all night. You have to dress up to this musical or you'll stand out."

That was definitely a Renee comment. Only she would find a way to turn my own argument against me."You know how I feel about dresses, mom. Their so not me."

"Fine." Renee crossed her arms in determination. "I'll compromise. No dress, but I get to pick your outfit tonight and you will wear it with no complaints. Deal?"

There was no way I was getting out of this, so I agreed. "Deal."

"Lovely!" She immediately walked over to my small, nearly empty closet, rummaging meaningfully. "Bella, dear, where's that amazing blue blouse you used to have? You looked beautiful in that." My heart dropped at her seemingly-harmless words.

Edward thought I looked good in it too. "I-I left it in Forks."

Renee sighed. "That's a shame. I loved that shirt." Eventually, she settled on a pair of khakis I never knew I had and an overly fancy shirt with sequins making a flower design down near the right hip. It wasn't too much and I could whole-heartedly express my happiness at her choice. The ruffles on the shirt sleeves were pushing it a bit though... Despite that, I was happy that she decided not to go overboard like she tended to. I changed into the outfit quickly.

Afterwards, I attempted an escape from the mother of doom, but I didn't get anywhere. "Go with the flow, Isabella. You aren't done until I say so." She pushed me out my door and down the hall into her own room, where I was sat down in front of her vanity. "Let your mother have some fun."I gave in as she approached me with a brush. What else was I supposed to do?

"You know," My mother said after she brushed my hair until it shone like some sort of beacon. "I had a bigger motive for tonight."

There was an instant groan from me. When Renee resorts to planning, it's never good. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Hush." She smacked my head lightly, but in an affectionate way. "You know that little redhead who used to be in your ballet class when you were younger?"

"Yes." In fact, I did remember her, but I couldn't put a name to the face. Despite that, I still knew exactly who she was talking about. She was my only friend in the class and just about as clumsy as me. I feel really sorry for our teacher. She had her hands full with the two of us.

"Well, I found her parents' number in an old shoebox—I wonder how it got there—and I was so worried about how you were acting, so I called them up—"

"Mom, you didn't!" I was shocked. I might not even get along with this girl. I mean, we're not little girls in pink tutu's anymore.

"I did."

"How do you even know we'll get along?"

"Bella, you have to understand. I was desperate and you were so gloomy. I had to try something." Renee finally put down the cursed brush, her reflection in the mirror showing her worry.

"Stop worrying, mom. I'll do my best, but I don't even remember her name. It was so long ago..."

"Ami." My mom filled me in quickly, starting the next step in her beauty torture. "Her name Ami Stowz. You two were such cute little friends. It's sad how you both lost contact with each other..."

"Mom." Now was not the time to get into old memories. "Shouldn't we be leaving soon? It's," I looked down at my phone, which I was now used to carrying, "six-thirty."

"Is it really?"

At my nod, she forced me out yet another doorway with the order to get in the car. No wasn't an answer, so I went.

Then my mom promptly called me back into the hosue as soon as I sat down. Oh boy. She must have forgotten something. Once again, I wasn't surprised.

Wanting to get this over with, I shrugged to a laughing Phil and hurried back up the driveway to the open doorway where Renee was standing, smiling as if it she never changed her mind. She rushed back into her room, pulling open her messy closet and grabbing a small black box was the highest shelf. "Bella, this was my great grandmother's—your great great grandmother. She bought it back in 1901 when it was fresh on the market. I always wanted to pass it down to you on your prom night, but seeing I missed it, I want you to wear it tonight. Renee opened the little box and I gasped.

"I—mom, it's beautiful. I love it."

And I did. This had to be one of the nicest things I've ever seen. It was still perfectly intact a century later, diamonds shimmering in the sparse light. It was a necklace, a rather large one, with two loops, one inside the other. Within the larger loop was a flower and three delicate leaves sprouted from both sides. Inside the smaller loop was a teardrop. This was put how I'd been feeling the last few months on a chain.

"It's perfect." I whispered.

"So you'll wear it?" My mother asked, the relief evident in her tone. She honestly doesn't know me that well. Even if I hated it, I would have worn it. "It's not too gaudy for a teenager?"

"Of course not, mom." I picked up the necklace with care and clasped it around my neck.

"Good! Go get in the car."

Well, that moment sure was short-lived.

(~)(~)(~)

Fifteen minutes later, Phil parked the car on a sidestreet about a block from the theatre, looking guilty. "Hope you don't mind a short walk. I couldn't find anything closer."

"That's all right, Phil." I said, thoroughly glad I hadn't been talked into a dress, which would have also meant heels. That would have been bad—my outfit would have been completely ruined from my constant tripping on the way there. Luckily, my converse blended well with the outfit Renee had me wear. I had minimal tripping catastrophes in these shoes.

"Bella and I don't mind a little exercise." So says the one who can walk in a straight line without tripping over air.

The walk to the theatre resulted in me tripping three times—a new record for me. It wasn't even in the double digits. All in all, there was practically no damage, not a hole in the knees or a stain on the shirt. Everything going fine...so far.

I wasn't going to get my hopes up yet. Ami could end up being a prissy, self-absorbed, spoiled brat who would ruin the night for everyone.

"How are we supposed to know who they are out of all these people?" I whispered—in a fancy place like this, talking just didn't seem very appropriate. In the instant it took to walk through the glass doors, I'd fallen completely in love with the building. I couldn't help but watch the happenings around me with wide eyes.

I was acting like a kid in a candy shop.

"I sent them their tickets by mail. We're meeting at the seats."

Her reply was almost lost to me as I subconsciously wondered over to one of the two elegant staircases that winded up the curved walls, most likely leading to the upper set of seats. It was like color had seeped onto one of those black and white photos. The place was amazing. This night was going good so far...hopefully my luck would last.

People were milled about as my eyes drilled holes through the tickets, hoping it would magically tell tell her which corridor or staircase. Before she made a fool of herself, I dragged her towards a waiting concierge who didn't look like her was too bored with his job.

"Do you need help, ma'am?"

"Yes, actually. I was wondering where we can find Row E for Wicked?"

He smiled, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes. Maybe I was wrong about the boredom. "Go up the staircase," He pointed to the stairs I'd been admiring a few moments before. "Your seats should be through the door on the left, five sets of seats down."

"Thank you!" Renee stepped lightly up the stairs, leaving Phil an I to trudge slowly behind her. Phil hates steps for who knows why. Me? I hate them because I tend to trip up them.

Today has to be my lucky day—I didn't trip once!

We followed the concierge instructions to a tee, winding up in a large room with hundreds of seats and one good-sized stage right in the middle of it all. It shouldn't take too long to find our seats, seeing as most of them were already filled, meaning we are later than we thought.

"E99, E100, E101..." I stopped paying attention, keeping my eyes on the large ceiling where a large mural was painted over every inch of it. Tonight was filled with thing I've loved. It seems like after all my heart ache, I've finally had something to go to that I'll enjoy. It's a nice feeling.

How could one human take all this in? This place must be breathtaking through vampire eyes."E116. Bella, Phil, these are our seats. Oh, are you the Stowz?"

Internally, I winced at what might be considered rude, but I focused properly on the family and the girl I once called my best friend.

"Ahh, you must be Renee and Phil, Oh, and Bella! My have you changed since we last saw you." I wasn't rude enough to tell him it was impossible not to change in ten years. Instead, I smiled one of my many fake smiles and watched Ami stand behind her mother and father. She was a few inches taller—she'd always been that way—with a shock of red hair identical to her mothers. Her nervous expression soothed me as her parents introduced themselves as Blake and Dawn.

Much like Renee, Blake was the talker of the family. Even as we sat down—Ami and I placed carefully right next to each other on the end of the row—he was prodding Renee was information.

Being Renee, she was filling him in rather well.

While our parents talked, Ami and I sat in an awkward silence. Either she was just as nervous as me or she thought she was too good for this.

I cleared my thought with a hesitant smile. 'So..." I mentally scolded myself as I trailed off. This is what I get for talking without thinking.

Apparently, my face showed my thoughts and Ami laughed, almost silently. "I can't believe my parents do this kind of thing. I always thought the 'reuniting after a decade' business is only in the movies."

"Now that I think about it, mom probably got the idea from one of her many chick-flicks and romantic movies she has." For Renee, it made perfect sense.

"Well," Ami said, getting bold enough to turn fully towards me. "Anything exciting happen to you? Boyfriend mishaps?"

If only she knew...

"Not much." My face just had to be screaming my lie to the world. "I did move to Washington for a couple years."

"Washington? As in Washington, D.C.?"

"Nah," Washington D.C. Would be interesting. Now if only Charlie had been living there. None of this heartbreak would've ever happened. "A practically nonexistant town in Washington state called Forks. Nothing exciting can happen in a town as small as that." What was with my lying all of a sudden? This was all going to come back to burn me. "What about you?"

"Lately things have been calming down, but I'm going to a college centered around drama and dancing." She lowered her head, muttering something incoherent.

"You?" There was nothing offending in tone tone. I was just curious. "Were'nt you a klutz right along with me?"

"I—yeah, but after you quit coming to classes, I buried myself in it because I didn't want to stay behind and I got better after a lot of practice. Hey, did you know someone burned down our old ballet studio?"

"Umm, no." Okay, that was the worst lie yet, but what was I supposed to say? Yeah, I know! Actually, it was burned down because a vampire was trying to kill me so my vampire boyfriend and his family saved me from death and burned him to ashes, which also happened to burn down the studio? Sorry about that. That would go over real well. "Who would burn down a ballet studio?"

"Some psychopath, I guess." You have no idea.

I was saved from answering as the lights faded and conversation ceased. Thank you.

One stage, the curtain with an odd map and a celebrating tune reached my ears..."No one mourns the Wicked! No one cries; They won't return!"

How suitable.

Eventually, I found my attention called to the stage as the life of the infamous Wicked Witch of the West played out. She was young...misunderstood because she was green. No one liked her and no one wanted to be her friend.

As I watched, I was completely captivated I only broke out of my trance as the final words of a song pierced the tense atmosphere, it's final notes dying in the silence caused by the audience. "No wizard there is or was is ever going to bring me down!" The lights came back on and a voice announced a fifteen minute intermission to the awaiting crowd.

Most people took advantage of the break, but I stayed firmly planted in my seat, eying the closed curtains. I was enjoying the musical immensely—more than I thought I would. I took a quick glance at Ami, noticing she was wiping away tears. Quite a few people were, so I felt my own cheek and my hand came away wet. I'd been crying?

The fifteen minutes passed slowly, but I didn't say a word. Talking wasn't on the agenda. I just wanted to see what happened. On the inside I was dreading what would happen to Elphaba, also known as the Wicked Witch, when Dorothy appeared in the picture.

My anxiety stopped when the lights dimmed for the second time and I was deep within the cloak of darkness. Elphaba's tale continued, finally bringing in Dorothy and the Wicked Witch's hatred towards the normal girl whose house happened to land on her sister. Her story of love and betrayal captivated me in ways I never thought possible. It was a distraction from my own problems.

Pain tugged at my heart when Elphaba's sang one of the saddest songs yet. "No good deed goes unpunished! No act of charity goes unresented!"

Before I knew it, the musical was over, much to my dismay.

All the cards were turned. Ever since I was little, Dorothy was good and the Wicked Witch was evil. The change of events made everything so mixed up. The Wicked Witch was merely hated for trying to help and angering the worst person, while Dorothy was a misunderstood girl."That was amazing!' I managed to stammer out, looking like a fool.

"I think I hate Dorothy!" Ami said at the same time.

We locked eyes, surprised by the statements we said so freely. The ice was broken. Renee happened to notice too.

"Dawn, would you let Ami stay the night at our house? Bella hasn't had a friend over in years."

I can see where she's going with this. Get the depressed Bella a new friend to snap her out of her gloomy mood. Unfortunately, it might work if I planned to stay around long enough. As it is, I shouldn't.

"That would be wonderful!" Of course, these words sparked an exchange of several phone numbers.

"Am I the only one who feels so inferior here?" Ami chimed.

My lips twitched faintly upwards. Maybe Ami spending the night wouldn't be too bad ; it might help if our parents wouldn't talk among themselves as if we were back in kindergarten.

Oh well. That's just Renee.

This chapter was another filler before the excitement starts. I had to put Wicked in because it's probably my favorite musical. I've been to a Broadway Chicago showing and ever since I've loved it. Bree was there too, but she was on too many prescription drugs to remember much of it, so I didn't get much help from her. I kept my description of the musical vague because if someone else was going to see it, I didn't want to spoil it.

By the way, the songs mentioned are my favorite three. They are called; No One Mourns the Wicked, Defying Gravity, and No Good Deed Goes Unpunished. All three are worthy enough to be checked out if you want to hear the complete versions.