Fix You
Chapter One
Bella's POV
A few months earlier...
Somebody's staring at me.
The back of my neck is prickling oddly and I've just got the strangest feeling that a pair of eyes are focusing on me, scrutinising my every move. I might be imagining it, but it just feels as though I'm being watched; it's a gut feeling that I can't seem to shake off.
Despite this, I try my hardest to ignore it and circle my fingers around the rim of the coffee mug in front of me; the delicate movement makes an eerie sound and I stop after a few circulations. Following that, I raise the cup to my lips and swallow some of the warm, sweet liquid; the heat travels down my throat and into my stomach.
Normally I'd enjoy the sensation. But the uncomfortable feeling of paranoia is still there, and it dominates my senses.
It's beginning to piss me off now, actually; surely I'm entitled to drink in peace after a hectic day? This is meant to be my place to escape.
Suddenly, without thinking, I whirl around, not even trying to be subtle. Nobody in the coffee shop looks up or even acknowledges me; there's a blond man in the corner with his face buried in a newspaper, a couple of girls giggling as they study their phones, and a middle aged man busy eating a chocolate muffin.
Looks like I'm getting paranoid.
Unless somebody's being very ninja-like...
Feeling a little stupid, I slowly turn back around and let out a heavy sigh. It's not long before my attention is caught by a blur of flame red, though, and I glance up to see the owner of the shop giving me a strange look. I raise an eyebrow at her but she just laughs, proceeding to wipe the counter happily.
Okay then.
Annoyingly, I can sense that my cheeks are beginning to heat up, so I continue to read my book that I had been enjoying before all the distractions. It takes a while to find the right line and I force myself to make sense of the words, but they all seem to just jumble into one, mostly because I can't ignore the niggling feeling that's returned in full force.
For God's sake, I came here to relax, not to be hassled.
I turn once again and this time it seems as though I've caught the culprit; the blond in the corner startles slightly when I face his direction and the newspaper rattles suspiciously in his hands.
Gotcha.
He's quite a distance away and I can't quite make out his features from where I'm sat; I guess I've never really been blessed with great eyesight. I keep making a point of going to the opticians but never quite get around to doing it. Or really it's because I'm an awful procrastinator and the idea of having to wear glasses makes me wrinkle my nose.
I continue to squint over at him, but his face never emerges from behind the article. It's a little worrying to think that he might be watching me, but the overriding feeling is curiosity. There's nothing that interesting about me.
"Trying to get somebody's attention?"
I quite literally jump out of my seat and whip back around to see the flame haired woman looking at me with a smirk. She's leaning close to me conspiratorially, wiping the table at the same time with a wet dishcloth, and I feel a little miffed. The name tag on her blue apron says 'Victoria' and she has a notepad and pen stuffed in her pocket ready to take orders.
Maybe I could order her to mind her own bloody business.
"Excuse me?" is the only reply I can manage.
"You keep turning around and looking at that guy in the corner. I've been watching you do it."
I frown at her. "Well that's not weird at all."
She laughs, somehow sounding sophisticated and mysterious at the same time. "He's been looking at you too."
My eyes widen in surprise; I wasn't imagining it after all, then. My initial instinct is to act sceptical; I play dumb. "Really?"
"Mmm-hmm." A chair scrapes back and she takes a seat beside me. Blimey, this woman really doesn't mind getting involved. "He seemed pretty much interested ever since you first walked in."
"You're being ridiculous." I realise that probably sounds a bit nasty, but she grins before I can take it back.
"No, I'm just being observant, honey. But hey, I guess it isn't really any of my business."
"You've finally hit the nail on the head," I mutter bitterly. As she gets up, I feel a pang of guilt. "Sorry, that was a bit rude."
"It's fine," she smiles. "I've had plenty of customers who've been much viler than that." Her eyes seem distant for a brief moment in what I assume is a memory, but before I can ask if she's okay, she suddenly heads behind me. When that finally registers with me, I realise, in alarm, that she's heading over to the blond. If she says anything suggestive I swear I'm going to-
Oh God, I can't bear it. Why is she doing this?
I need to escape. Now. It's like being in high school, sending somebody over to talk to the person you have a crush on.
Except that's a completely stupid comparison.
Without another moment's hesitation, I gather my bag and hurry into the toilets, locking myself away into the safety of a cubicle. It feels incredibly immature hiding away like this, but I have no idea what came over me.
It's not exactly pleasant in here now that I start to calm down; in fact, the smell's actually making me feel a little ill, but I have to endure it.
I stay in here for a few minutes, take a deep breath, then flush the toilet and head over to wash my hands. It takes a silly amount of time to pluck up the courage to walk back out but, when I do, I keep my head down with all the effort I can gather. I stare at my feet the whole way, watching each footstep I take on the floor.
So it comes as a pretty big shock when I realise the blond's actually sitting at my table, looking at me expectantly.
With my mouth wide open, I catch Victoria's eye and she just winks at me. Thanks a lot, I mouth and she just sets off to help another customer.
I don't think I've ever felt this awkward in my entire life.
There are two options; I could walk straight past and out of the shop, forgetting this whole thing ever happened. Or, I could sit down and talk to this man. In the process, I could possibly find out why he might have been staring at me.
The curiosity is bugging me.
Because of this, I smile and take a seat, giving Victoria another pointed look. When my eyes move back to the man's, however, I'm quite taken aback; he really isn't what I expected to see. Close up, his blond hair is pleasantly ruffled, as though he's constantly been running his fingers through it. The lights from above shine down on his face and I see light shadows beneath his eyes; perhaps he's tired or stressed?
What does it matter to me?
Regardless of this, I continue to take in his appearance; his brown eyes are on mine looking bright and receptive, but they're framed by his frowning eyebrows. I'm also interested to see a tiny scar on his forehead; I curiously wonder how that happened.
I'm probably supposed to say something at this point instead of scanning him.
"Um... hi," I stammer, sounding a little choked.
Suddenly, without warning, his face turns amused and the area around his eyes crinkles wonderfully; he looks ten years younger at the very least. His lips turn upwards, revealing some teeth. "Hello," he replies, his voice soft and smooth, like something off a commercial. It's also low and almost rumbles in his chest and, when he swallows, I notice his Adam's apple bobbing.
Why am I even thinking this? Inappropriate is not a strong enough word; I'm acting like a stupid school girl.
I laugh nervously and run a hand through my own hair self-consciously. His eyes stray upwards to watch this. "Uh... without meaning to sound rude... why exactly are you here?" I ask tentatively. "At my table, that is. I don't begrudge you coming in here to drink a coffee or anything."
He looks startled, his eyes turning wide, but he soon laughs; it's a glorious sound that I want to hear again and again.
For God's sake, Bella, he's a stranger. Get over it.
A beautiful stranger, though, a part of me adds.
"That's a fair question," he replies, leaning forward onto his elbows. His arms look big underneath the blue shirt and tie that covers them. "And I'm afraid my answer might sound a little stupid."
"There's only one way to find out."
He sighs and presses his lips together. It's quite alarming how intense this seems to be; we're almost constantly making eye contact and, even though this would normally make me feel uncomfortable, I find myself unwilling to look away.
I don't know what's come over me.
"It's your book," he says randomly and both my eyebrows raise behind my fringe of hair.
"My book?"
"I heard the door opening and glanced up, naturally, to see you carrying it. I read it a few weeks ago."
All this fuss... over a book?
Well, I suppose it is a good book but still... all this hassle! Unless he's using it as some kind of excuse...
No. That's just ridiculous. Just go with it.
"Really?" I manage after a while. "That's... um, well, that's a bit of a coincidence. It's not the most famous of books. Even though-"
"It should be," he finishes and I stare at him open-mouthed; that was exactly what I was going to say. We both laugh and I shift in my seat. Do we have something in common? Or am I just hoping?
To be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure what's happening at all.
But it's kind of exciting that way.
"Do you mind if I take a look?" he asks out of the blue. "It's been a while since I read it and something's bugging me."
I nod and, after meeting my eyes for further approval, he reaches over and holds the book in his hands, looking at the text as though it's sacred. The expression on his face conveys that he's completely absorbed and I watch in fascination as his lips moves when he quietly reads the words to himself.
Then my eyes move to his hands and I see something that crushes the hope which I didn't even know was inside of me.
There's a wedding ring on his finger.
I really shouldn't be feeling so disappointed; we've only just met.
Yet I feel my mood drop right down, plummeting as though I'm on a rollercoaster, and a strange feeling settles in my stomach. I try to give myself a mental slap and tell myself to get real. Get over it, Bella.
"Excuse me, are you alright?"
The man's looking at me with a frown between his eyebrows; it makes him look a lot older and wiser. "You seem upset," he comments and I just want to kick myself at this moment. Why am I letting this get to me, seriously? I've seen other beautiful people out with partners before; I've come to accept that I'm lonely.
Yet, for some odd reason that I can't begin to fathom, this hurts more than ever before. It's like a kick in the stomach, with steel capped shoes.
"I'm fine," I reply, forcing on my fake smile. It feels like I'm a robot, mechanically ordering my muscles to move into place. "Sorry, I was just going to leave actually." I stand up quickly and almost lose my balance. He copies my actions and moves his hands to steady me. Instead of thanking him, I just ask for my book back, my voice devoid of any emotion.
"Thank you," he says quietly, sounding puzzled at my sudden change of heart. "It was... uh, nice meeting you, even though it was very brief."
Looking up at him would probably make the pain worse.
So, naturally, I do it.
"It was," I murmur. After an awkward moment's silence, I head towards the door.
But I never get outside.
A loud noise comes out of nowhere and we all swerve around to see the door being swung open so forcefully that it almost swings off the hinges; a man is standing in the doorway and an icy breeze sweeps in from behind him. His eyes are dark and angry behind the mask that he wears, blazing with a fierce rage that makes a shiver run across my skin, despite the thick layers of clothing which are covering me.
He steps forward, raising an arm; almost as soon as he does so, I feel somebody pulling me backwards. I briefly realise that it's the blond man shielding me with his body. It puzzles me why he's doing this, but I soon realise and my blood runs cold.
There's a gun in the man's hand which shakes violently, and his finger is twitching on the trigger; I can see the dirt encrusted under his tobacco stained nails.
We're closest to him, yet everybody in the room tenses and there are a few screams of horror. It takes all my courage to glance at somebody else, to remove my gaze from the threat; the blond man from earlier meets my eyes, and his are full of panic and fear, almost like a mirror. His body is pressed against mine, though, acting as a shield; I pray and pray that he won't get hurt as a consequence.
Victoria is standing behind the counter, looking absolutely horrified, but there's something different in her expression. It looks like... recognition.
Does she know this person?
My suspicions are confirmed almost instantly. "James...?" she whispers quietly, but the sound seems so loud in the quiet room. The man suddenly aims the weapon in her direction and she ducks under the counter, fast as lightning.
Oh God, please don't hurt her. Please.
One tiny movement could end a life in the blink of an eye; years of memories could be erased, somebody's son or daughter wiped off the face of the earth.
Somebody could die.
The shock of that ripples through me and I sway on the spot.
My morning had been so normal... everybody's probably had.
But this is turning into an awful nightmare.
"Glad to see you recognise me, Vicky," he spits venomously, striding over to where she is cowering. Before he does so, he pulls out a key and locks the door shut carefully behind him. As well as this, he pulls down the blinds that reveal the outside world, giving us no way to escape. The daylight is sucked out of the room.
It doesn't help that this cafe is in a quieter part of Forks; nobody can save us.
I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting to hear a gunshot, a wail, but I just hear a screech. When I peek again, I see that he's dragging Victoria by her hair and she's now in front of me, in the open, vulnerable.
He's still holding the gun a few inches away from us and his eyes flicker dangerously around the room. He spots both the girls from earlier and the man who was happily eating a muffin; no one had ever expected this to happen. "You three, get behind these now or I'll blow their brains out." Nobody moves and he shakes the gun. "Now!"
I automatically suck in air when they slowly move. Don't hurt them, please, God.
The older man carefully walks over with his hands in the air, his eyes never leaving the gunman's; I see that his whole body is quivering. The two girls are crying hysterically but they obey the orders regardless.
How did this happen?
"So, Vicky." He removes his mask suddenly and I'm disgusted. His greasy dirty-blond hair is scraped back into a ponytail and dirt is smeared over his skinny face. When he sneers at us all, relishing in the power that he has, I see his yellow stained teeth.
"Why are you d-doing this?" Victoria stammers and immediately I fear for her.
He edges closer, grinning all the way like a twisted evil clown. "You're gonna regret doing what you did, Vicky." The smell of his breath reaches me and the mixture of alcohol and cigarettes is sickening. "Although, don't worry, that won't be for too long, 'cause you're all gonna die." His hand slithers under her chin for a brief moment. "Oh, and down here," he pauses for what I assume is dramatic effect, "nobody can hear you scream."
He chuckles to himself, amused by the pain he's inflicting, and he suddenly removes a backpack from his shoulder. As he rummages through the contents with a single hand, the other still holding the gun at us, I feel a sudden pressure on my own. Rigidly, I look down and see that somebody has interlinked their hand with mine, and that the person suddenly squeezes, trying to convey reassurance and security through their warm touch.
I glance up, all the way up, and see the blond man looking down at me somberly. His lips are set in a hard line.
And then, when he lets go abruptly, my hand falls back to my side limply.
I wish I knew his name.
At the same time that I think all of this, a silent tear falls down my cheek. Knowing that it will betray me, I roughly wipe it away and wait to find out my fate.