Chapter II
Bella in Reflection
Bella stood alone in the kitchen, alone in the house. It was still, quiet. The only sound was the faintly echoing, regular ticking of the wall clock in the adjacent foyer. Bella wore an inscrutable, pensive expression on her face. She had not gone to school. Her hair, apparently recently washed, was hanging loosely in damp strands above her shoulders. After Edward left, she had slowly gone upstairs, and washed her hair in the bathtub. Then, without drying it she had come downstairs wrapped in a towel, perched on the sofa, staring absently into space. She had extended her leg, running her hands along its length, then again with the other. Then, without really knowing why, her wandering hands had slowly found her crotch, and she began to please herself quietly, methodically. Once, then again...And a third time. Afterwards, she had gone back upstairs, and washed her face in the bathroom sink. She looked up at her reflection, but quickly looked down - after a moment she looked up at herself again, for many long moments. Then, she had gotten dressed, and come downstairs, finding her way into the kitchen.
Bella had not masturbated in a long while - she didn't know why, or even why she had done so now. Her mind had been blank. What did it mean? Nothing, she said to herself. She stood over the island bar and stared absently down at the countertop. She could see her vague reflection in its polished granite surface. Throwing her head back, she pushed back her still-wet hair. She turned to look out the window. The sun, now peeking from behind the clouds, sent golden rays into the empty kitchen. Bella slowly extended her arm into the light. She watched as her pale skin sparkled and glimmered in the light as she rotated her arm. She had once seen Edward's body glimmer in just the same way, many years before. Edward. What was he doing now? Probably in class, or eating lunch off to the side in the cafeteria. Bella smiled. He was the same Edward he had always been. And she was the same Bella. Her love was the same, her dream was the same, her desires were...the same. Yes. How many people could say they were as happy as her, or that they had gotten everything they ever dreamed of…?
"Renesmee will be hungry when she gets home," whispered Bella in the empty kitchen. She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out some franks - frowning, she returned them and instead pulled out some baby carrots. Walking over to the counter, she put them on a cutting board an began to methodically slice them. Chop, chop, chop. She moved her hair behind her ear. Somehow she became conscious of the sound of her own breathing-perhaps it was irregular. Stopping her cutting she set her knife down, and looked absently at the deep beige cabinets in front of her.
Bella, her husband, and her daughter - their lives in perpetual motion but never straying out of the realm of happy contentedness. Simple, nothing exotic - but what else was there? What else could there be? What else could I ever want? She thought. She did not - in fact was unable to - imagine what could be outside 'her happiness'. What was outside? Uncertainty? She had never asked herself this, had never consciously thought about what it was. She shifted on her feet. She felt quietly uneasy.
"This is what I wanted," Bella said aloud.
She once more looked down at the counter, the endless speckled granite surface.
"Yes," she said quietly, setting her defined jaw.
She once more picked up the knife and resumed slicing the carrot.
The knuckles of her clenched hands, which had been resting on the counter's edge, were white.