A/N: Wow, a really long wait. Sorry guys. I've had bits and pieces of this done for a long while but I decided to wait until I had some more time to tie them all together into a longer chapter. I had no idea what I was in for with my last semester of nursing school. I was literally studying every single night. I was failing halfway through too, so you can image the stress level. But I passed in the end. :) One more year to go. It'll be intense and now that I know that I'm going to have to force myself to finish this over the summer. I love writing this story and I want to see it through to the end. Just please try to be patient with me here. :) I'm not sure how many chapters are left, I'd guess 4-5 but you never can tell.
Anyway, if you can remember waaaay back to the last chapter, Bella is on her way to New York for a photoshoot following an appearance on the "Leonard" show where she was attacked by a stalker freak.
I entered the suite I was to stay in while I was in town. I waved the huge security guy from the hotel off, insisting that I was fine. He wouldn't leave. I quickly shut the door in his face, annoyed. Couldn't I ever be alone anymore?
I knew I needed to sleep but I didn't want to dream, knowing I would be haunted by the attacker, or worse, Edward. I sat on the sofa and clicked the T.V. on, knowing there wouldn't be anything on worth watching this late. I clicked through the channels lazily, stubbornly fighting sleep while my head began to bob forward toward my chest. I settled on what looked like a real estate type program or a fix-up-your-home show. The camera zoomed in on the back of a house then pulled back and showed the backyard.
The house looked strangely familiar, but I couldn't place it. Sleep was threatening to take over. The camera circled back and focused on a young woman, a reporter.
All at once it made sense. I sprang forward on the sofa, my mouth hanging open in horror. Any traces of sleep were gone. Of course the house looked familiar. It was my house! Only then did I notice the heading at the bottom of the screen titled, "Live from Forks".
There was no way the program was actually live as it said it was. The sky in Forks was as murky as ever but I could tell from the dim beams of light that filtered through the clouds that it was early afternoon when the footage was filmed. It must have been a later broadcast of something they'd already shown earlier. Great, just great. Who knows how many times this stupid program had already aired.
"We're broadcasting live from Forks, Washington. Here we find a gloomy forest laden little province and the hometown of singing sensation Isabella."
Hometown? I would hardly call Forks my hometown. Even though I had spent many summers there with Charlie, Phoenix was my primary home for the majority of my life. Of course, Phoenix never really felt like home. That honor would go to Forks, the first place I really fit in, even if it was with a bunch of gloriously beautiful monsters and a pack of teenage boys that could morph into wolves. So maybe calling Forks my hometown was accurate to some degree.
The reporter continued to babble on about my house and its "beautiful, rustic charm" while the camera panned around to show the viewers the entire property.
"We're now heading up to the door to see if we can have a word with Isabella's father, Charlie Swan, police chief of Forks." She knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence she turned back to the camera.
"It seems our chief is on duty. Perhaps we can reach him at a later time."
I rolled my eyes. Of course he's on duty. It's a Friday afternoon. Where else would he be?
The camera switched again and the reporter now stood outside the main office building of Forks High. I tensed, but then relaxed when I realized that no one could possibly be in school. It was mid July.
I was horribly, horribly wrong.
After a few minutes of background information from the reporter about the school, people slowly began to trickle out from one of the buildings. The reporter rushed over to a pair of girls, a blonde and a brunette.
Oh no. It was Lauren and Jessica. What were they doing in school? They graduated last month, the same as everyone else. When they saw the reporter and the camera they straightened up and smiled hugely.
"Hello ladies," the reporter sang, delighted to find someone who could possibly provide some dirt.
"Hi!" The girls chimed in unison, locking their eyes on the camera.
The reporter introduced herself. Jessica and Lauren said their names and smiled at the camera like Cheshire cats.
"I didn't expect to find anyone hanging around here. Don't tell me you two girls got sent to summer school." The reporter laughed at her joke.
"Of course not!" Lauren chirped and then giggled in a nauseating way, flicking her hand through her long, silvery blonde hair.
"We are in school though," Jessica added. "It's a two week long program set up by the school to help us prepare for college."
"Ah," the reporter said. "Very smart. Well ladies, I'm here today to talk to you about a former classmate. I assume in a town this small you're quite familiar with everyone."
They nodded.
"So, I take it you know Isabella Swan?"
Jealous anger briefly flashed across Jessica's dark eyes as her smile dimmed. Lauren, bubbly as ever, took over with no problem but I recognized the mean glint in her eyes.
"Oh, but of course I know Bella! We're the absolute best of friends!"
My jaw dropped and I stared at the T.V. as it might walk over and bite me. Friends? With Lauren?
Jessica snapped back to herself and piped up, "Well, I was her very first friend when she moved here. I took her under my wing, you know." She smiled with mock kindness.
"And you were pretty good friends with her, Jessica?"
"Oh yeah," she replied. "We used to hang out all the time. We still do, of course. She's just so busy you know." Another big smile.
In the background, more students came out of the college program. They stared at the camera curiously as they passed.
Lauren, obviously annoyed at the attention being turned on Jessica, cut off the reporter before she could ask the next question.
"I'm glad she got out of Forks. I just felt so sorry for the poor girl," Lauren's smile was gone and distress crossed her face. Jessica looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean by that?" The reporter's excitement could not have been more obvious. It reminded me of a dog looking at a steak.
Lauren's lips tugged up for the briefest instant before the sorrow returned. "Well, you know her parents are divorced and she moved down here to live all alone with her father. He's always so busy with work and he's even gone on the weekends. Word is he's secretly been an alcoholic for years now. A father's not really a father when he's-" Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "under the influence. And the poor girl didn't have many friends as it was."
I could not believe what I was hearing. Why were they doing this? Did they really hate me that much? I was so angry I could feel the tears welling in my eyes.
Jessica, catching on to the scheme, added, "Yes, it really was fortunate that she had us to stick by her through the more difficult times."
"How nice." But the reporter didn't seem too enthused. This was obviously not the kind of dirt she hoped to dig up. She wanted something scandalous on me, and alcoholic father-type Hollywood sob stories were so commonplace that hardly anyone raised an eyebrow. But it would still be used against me if it could.
A young man walked over beside Jessica and Lauren.
"Hey Mike," they called.
Oh, not Mike. This could not be happening.
"Mike, is it?" The reporter eagerly turned away from Jessica and Lauren. The camera zoomed in on Mike's face. He looked at it strangely.
"Can you tell that guy to back up a bit or something?"
The reporter swiveled around and motioned angrily with her hand for the cameraman to take a few steps back. Her glittering smile returned as she faced Mike.
"Better?"
"Yeah," Mike said, though he still seemed to be a bit annoyed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.
"So, Mike. I was just talking to Jessica and Laura here-"
"It's Lauren," Lauren interrupted with a huff.
The reporter went on as if she hadn't heard. "-were just talking with me about a former classmate, Isabella Swan. Are you familiar with her?"
"Yeah, I know Bella."
"The girls were just telling me about her sad life, living with her alcoholic father who never loved her."
Okay, it seems the reporter has totally eaten up the stupid story.
Mike's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about? Chief Swan isn't an alcoholic. That's the most ridiculous lie I ever heard." He turned to glare at Jessica and Lauren. "Chief Swan is a good man and he loves Bella. Anyone could tell you that."
"Now, now. Mick, is it? You wouldn't be covering up for something, would you?" The reporter looked at Mike as if he were a schoolboy in some kind of trouble.
Mike continued to look angry. "No, I told you, it's ridiculous. Cut it out with the stupid lies. I have a lot of respect for Chief Swan, my whole family does." He looked at Jessica and Lauren and hissed, "Are you two trying to get busted for slander or something?"
Lauren's eyes bulged slightly before she recovered herself. "Why of course not, Mike. I must have been thinking of someone else." Her eyes darkened as she spoke.
The reporter grew increasingly annoyed at this. "If you'll excuse me, girls, I think I'd like to talk to someone with a little more accurate information." The camera then cut away but not before the reporter could be heard saying, "You'd better edit that out or we'll both be out of jobs!"
I could only hope she was right. I clicked off the T.V. then. Wow, I couldn't believe Mike defended Charlie. And he defended me in a way. I was certain he would join in and attack me like Jessica and my "best friend" Lauren. Maybe I had misjudged Mike. Or maybe he had changed. I was too tired to think anymore. I let sleep take over.
xXx
The next morning my bad mood still had not lifted as I turned off the shower and dressed. The photoshoot was in a few hours and I had no idea what to wear. I guess it didn't matter since they would provide the clothes for the shoot anyway. I settled on a denim skirt and a red sequined tank top. It was still hot, even though I was a lot farther up north. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and frowned at my reflection. I was never happy with myself no matter how many people told me I was beautiful. I just couldn't seem to let myself believe it.
Nadine entered my room carrying a huge sack bursting with letters. Fan mail. She held a single envelope in her hands.
I was already irritated. So, we're not knocking anymore before we come charging in?
"This one was left under the door. I don't know how it got there."
"What?" I exclaimed. "You mean there's some obsessive fan who knows how to get in here? What happened to security?"
Oh God. What if it's him? Or someone worse?
"The place is being monitored, of course. The guards checked the tapes from last night and there's nothing there."
"Then how did it get there?" I growled.
"I don't know." She seemed taken aback at my harsh tone. "Every minute of last night is on those tapes. Although there were a few brief seconds where the tape must have had a glitch. But no one could get in and out that fast."
I continued to glare at her.
"And besides," Nadine continued. "don't you think if that guy had any intent of hurting you he would have done something? A letter isn't very violent."
"He seemed pretty keen on hurting me last night!"
"Oh, Isabella, honey." Nadine's bubbly smile was back. "You can't possibly think the letter is from the man who attacked you last night. It's impossible."
"Impossible how? He could've taken a flight here the same time we did. He could've been on the same plane even." My voice shook and I struggled to stop myself from crying.
"That's true, but how would he know where to find you? Your appearance last night was highly publicized. The press doesn't have any idea of the location of this shoot. Besides, you're going to be protected from now on. I'm hiring a bodyguard for you."
I groaned.
"No more objections." She was mothering me once again. What was she going to do if I refused? Ground me? I chuckled bitterly.
"Fine," I huffed. "I guess I'll just have to get used to living with a shadow."
"A giant shadow," she corrected.
"Better yet," I droned.
Nadine put her thin arm around me and rested her head against mine. "Oh, it won't be that bad Izzy. He won't go with you everywhere. It's more like he'll be watching you all the time."
"Gee thanks, that's so much better. I can totally live with that. No problems." Heavy sarcasm.
She only smiled in return. "It'll be fine. And try not to worry about who left that letter. You're safe here."
"I guess you're right," I muttered, though I wasn't convinced by any means. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again." I sighed. "Please?"
"We'll do everything we can," she replied, heading for the door. The envelope was still in her hands. "Do you want me to go ahead and throw this out?"
"Leave it. I want to know what I'm dealing with here."
She set the letter on the small table beside the door and turned to leave. When she was gone I went over and snatched it. The envelope was made of a heavy, off-white paper. There was no return address, unsurprisingly. The surface was completely blank except for my name. The tightwad couldn't even put a stamp on it. I examined it closer.
Isabella Swan
I was taken aback my how beautifully my name was written. It was like a work of art, a stunningly elegant work of art. I ran the tip of my finger over the lettering, enthralled. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter quite so much that this letter was left by a possible madman. I had to know what it said. I slid my finger beneath the seal, jaggedly tearing the back of the envelope. My fingers dug in eagerly, preparing to extract the letter inside.
The door opened again behind me. I shrieked, nearly dropping the envelope. Nadine reentered the room. "Oh Izzy, we need to get you ready to leave for the photoshoot. I forgot that they wanted to do the interview before the shoot instead of after."
"Interview? You didn't mention an interview." There's the Nadine we all know and love. I groaned and covered my eyes with my hand.
"Of course silly! You can't do a photoshoot for a magazine and expect not to do an interview to go along with it."
I sighed in defeat. "When do we need to leave?"
"Um…." She glanced down at her watch. "Now!"
"Nadine, wait a min-"
She lunged forward and took my arm, pulling me out the door. The letter fluttered to the floor, halfway torn open.
She scurried down the hotel hallway. I looked longingly behind me to where the letter had settled to the floor just behind the door. The pain shooting up my arm commanded my attention. It felt like it was being pulled from its socket.
"Hurry Izzy!"
"Nadine," I panted as we ran. "Do me a favor."
"What?" Nadine didn't look back. I was amazed that she could run in the shoes she was wearing.
"Stop calling me 'Izzy' okay?"