She'd never been one to brood. Well, that's what she told herself.

Everyone had their ups and downs. It was normal and perfectly natural. She was starting to think her 'downs' were presenting themselves too frequently for her liking. Sure, after Edward's unceremonious abandonment, things were on rough ground. Once again, it was perfectly natural. This stuff with Seth, though, was not natural. She could not and would not describe her feelings when she saw him in any accurate way.

She had never been a good liar. She supposed that it was just some after-affect of her parents' divorce, since things were bound to leave traces after a while. She wasn't strong and wasn't ashamed of it. Acceptance itself was a difficult thing to grasp for some people who believed themselves to have no flaws. She knew of her flaws, those little divots of inadequacy, sheering off her soul. One more straw on the camel's back could send it all down, but she wasn't going to allow that to happen. Physical strength was one thing, but mental and emotional (coming from a child of divorced parents) strength was another. Didn't she say she never brooded?

Coming to terms with feelings that weren't hers was not brooding, was it? She could not fathom how she suddenly felt this urge to go after a boy she wholly hated. Did something place these frivolous emotions in her head? She knew her 'type' and could send off those who weren't right for her, no matter how little the quantity.

This wasn't something she could control. This was attachment.

A tailspin of sick romance; the bonding of souls; those divots of inadequacy never tasted so bitter.

She prided herself on common sense, something so valuable in such hard times. But she knew when something was up or wrong. She knew that this was not normal no matter the circumstance of imaginary beings. This was different. This was horrible. This was hell.

One without much of a brain would embrace it, perhaps even be the one to instigate it. Inferring to such beliefs was detrimental, perhaps even grungy. But knew it she did, and could not help to worry over it, as was her custom. She envisioned herself falling prey to such godawful qualms, and knew that it was time to stop thinking of herself as a depleted well. She had common sense, remember?

Was that enough?

It would, not by any means, be enough.

It was her fault for getting into this mess. Her fault for allowing herself to fall for something with such a vile background of unadulterated and malevolent corruption.

Could she see herself now, holding onto the hook so delicately placed in her mouth, waiting to swallow it? To pull herself under, falling in love with a dream she never had and a surreal way of living? She couldn't wake up from it, so farewell and good luck to her.

The opportunity to throw away the towel had passed her by without her consent. This was her jail cell.

The slate was stained black.

A tight smile, one without any shown teeth, permeated her face. Charlie looked up at her from his newspaper, eyebrows lowering in the slightest display of parental affection. She took no notice to this, however, and went straight out the door, backpack slung low on her burdened shoulders. The smile slithered away, tainted with hate. It was only an act for Charlie's sake, though why she even attempted it was beyond her. The man was almost haltingly thick; he'd never suspect a thing. She didn't expect him to either. He was who he was, and she was who she was, and Seth was who he was.

And the earth spun 'round.

The boy was on her mind again, spinning tales of morbid fantasies. Calling out to her, beckoning. Waiting for her lack of control, hoping for a way in. She almost thought that – with her revelation lost behind her – she would allow him in. It almost seemed appealing in a daunting sort of way. What could it hurt? Her pride? That was gone, washed away with Edward's lies, marinating dully in the storm drains.

An ounce of self-respect still quelled inside her, urging her to higher ground where it was safe. Where the monsters could not get her. She felt like she was four years young once again, cuddled up at her father's side in the summer when he hadn't taken up the bottle. When he still had hope. When the doldrums had yet to screech. He would take out some fairy-tale and read it to her with exuberance, giving each character some strange voice to make her restless attention span trap itself in his tones. She would be scared of the villain and burrow herself farther into his side, but then he'd call out the hero's taunts, and listen on in raptness.

This didn't feel like a fairy-tale. This was something much more sinister.

"So what do you have in mind?" Sam asked the councilman quietly. Desmond held up a finger in the universal 'just a moment' gesture. He had been scrabbling for something good to pin on the boy's disobedience, but couldn't find anything other than the murder threat that Seth hadn't even filled out. He wracked his brain, unable to come up with anything. Who did the boy cherish? His mother? No, no, Desmond still had respect for the woman even if she had birthed the child he hated. He couldn't hurt her, since he had nursed a terrible love for the woman since he had first set his eyes upon her at age eleven. No, no.

The sister? Even if Desmond was a hateful old man, he couldn't use the sister. Sam still felt for her, even if he had wearily denied it. Who did the boy cherish? Who did he –

"Does Seth happen to have a girlfriend, Sam?" Desmond pondered aloud, tapping his chin mockingly. Sam's eyebrows rose, but he didn't reply for a moment. All his thoughts splayed out plainly on his forehead before he nodded slowly, calculating.

"An imprint," he said finally, closing his eyes as if they were dry, "Isabella Swan, the Forks' Chief's daughter."

"A man of the law, huh?" Desmond chuckled. "No matter, no matter. What's his address? I want to ask her some questions."

"What kind of questions?" Sam demanded immediately, fingers digging into his pant legs. Desmond looked on with indifference, mind whirling at a thousand miles a minute.

"Just about Seth. Surely she knows, being close to him and all."

Sam didn't mention that Seth and Bella pretty much hated each other. "She won't be involved with this, will she?"

"Of course not, you delinquent. I just want to question her about Seth to see what his intentions are. It is better to be safe than sorry, Samuel."

Sam cringed. "Yeah, sure."

Desmond turned away abruptly, pulling at his sparse hair. A small grin swept across his lips, and he gave another chuckle that went unnoticed by Sam.

Don't worry – we saw through your trickery.

And... scene! I think I'm getting good at this dark and depressing stuff. Tack that onto my amazing qualities -

-is smothered-