I know these chapters are mostly background information, but I figured I should explain the situation a little bit more before I got Edward into the picture. Don't' worry he's coming and things will get happier. Also, the other chapters will have a lot more dialogue.
Disclaimer: I still own nothing. (tear falls onto keyboard)
I had to admit the hot shower felt nice against my skin. I scrubbed vigorously with the shampoo and combed my hair with my fingers. I scrubbed myself with soap and a loofa erasing all signs of my secluded state. I at least wanted to look presentable to meet my new family. That word sounded strange. Did I ever really have family? Sure I loved my mother dearly, but she was not related to me by blood. But I suppose love is enough to constitute a family. I was roused from my thoughts, by the water suddenly turning cold.
Who knows how long I stood in the shower, using up all of the hot water. I half expected my mother Renee to come barging in complaining that there was going to be no hot water left for her. But the house was empty; every sound echoed off the walls and made the whole place eerie. I jumped at the slightest movement and turned on every light to dispel any lurking shadows. I hope wherever my mother is she is watching out for me.
After I was thoroughly cleaned I tore apart the rare sections of room, which had previously been undisturbed, in search of a suitable outfit. Finally, settling on a pair of comfortable jeans, good for a long journey and a blue long sleeve shirt with a tan jack blazoned with an intricate pattern of mahogany beads, I took one final look at myself in the mirror.
My chestnut brown hair hung down and straight like any other day, but at least it looked better than my recent hairstyle which could have been referred to as a rat's nest. For the most part I was clean and I looked relatively sane—on the outside. My state on the inside was still undetermined.
I didn't really care what I packed; my clothes didn't have much sentimental value so I roughly crumpled them in a suitcase, along with a toothbrush, hairbrush and other necessities. I took my time wandering around the house searching for several possessions that I could carry with me. I ended up with several pictures of my mother and father on their wedding day, a picture of my mother, my father and a six year old me laughing at a picnic and a more recent picture of just my mother and me, we were smiling but I swear I could see the sadness in my mother's eyes. She had never really recovered from my father's fatal accident.
My father, Charlie Swan had worked as a cop. (A/N Phil does not exist. Renee and Charlie never divorced.) I remember the day clearly, June 26, 2005. It had been a bright and sunny day. Nothing could have prepared me for the tragedy that would shake my life.
I sat in the art room, painting my teacher, Mr. Poole as he posed on a chair surrounded by a complicated folded fabric that draped over the chair and flowed down to the ground. I furiously erased at a small section of the page, where the fold looked too sharp and didn't match the style of my piece.
"Jeez Bella," Angela said, "If you keep that up you are going to run a hole through the page."
"Thanks for the hint." I grumbled sarcastically. "I just want it to be perfect." I said as I glared at the now empty spot on my page.
"You are such a perfectionist." She muttered under her breath, so quiet I wasn't sure if I was meant to hear it.
"Ah haa!" I screamed and everyone turned to look at me. I blushed at turned back to my painting, quickly sketching in the new folds. Perfect. I sighed in contentment and began smudging my lines together with the tortillan (drawing tool).
I spent the remainder of the period finishing that one spot and somewhere in that time, I heard the phone ring and the teacher talking, but it didn't register that they were talking about me.
"Isabella." Mr. Poole said and beckoned me with his finger. I stepped outside with butterflies in my stomach wondering what I did wrong. But when his face was sad, I quickly became panicked.
"Something is wrong. I don't think I am the best person to tell you." He trailed off nervously and I dreaded what was coming next." I think your mother will explain everything." He paused and took a calming breath, "at the hospital." Then everything went black.
"Bella." A voice called out to me. Everything swam into focus and I saw Angela's concerned face gazing down at me. I speedily regained my composure.
"I am fine." I reassured everybody, "I just need to get to the hospital."
Angela helped me down to the main doors where a taxi was waiting for me.
The car ride was stressful. The air was tense with anxiety and panic; because nobody had actually told me what was going on. All that I knew was: someone was hurt and I was going to the hospital to see them. The ten minute car ride lasted for hours; I was almost relieved to see the lit up Emergency Room Entrance. And then I remember why I was here and all thoughts of relief washed away.
I stumbled blindly through the halls, trying to find my way through the white halls, tears dotted my eyes and the bright lights were blinding. Following the nurse's directions, I arrived at a polyester-clad waiting room, where I saw my mother quietly sobbing into a handkerchief.
Once again I was filled with relief, my mom was fine, nothing was wrong with her. But as before, I remembered that, that meant that someone else was hurt.
"Mom." I said softly, I did not want to startle her. I eased myself into the seat next to her and locked her in a tight embrace. She looked up at me and I saw her bloodshot eyes and the constant stream of tears running down her face.
"What happened?" I asked and struggled to keep my voice calm even though I was teetering on the edge of loosing it.
I only caught a few words between her sobs, "Your father… stupid teenagers... shooting…" But it was enough for me to comprehend the situation. My dad was in the Emergency room, and his life was on the line.
I began to cry myself and my mother and I sat there, hugging each other, encompassed in a bubble of sadness. Awhile later, a doctor in a surgery uniform walked over to us,
"Mrs. Swan." He said addressing my mother. She looked up at him hope burning in her eyes. "I regret to inform you but your husband is dead." A new fit of tears overcame her and I rubbed her back while listening to the doctor's words,
"The bullet was lodged deeply in his sternum, just to the right of his heart. He died of blood loss. Had someone found him earlier, we might have been able to save him."
"Thank you." Was all I was able to say. I kept myself calm telling myself Breathe Bella, Breathe. I could not lose it now. My mother needed me. I had to be strong for her. She was still here. I vowed I would never let my mother down.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Wait; there was no beeping in the hospital. I opened my eyes to reality discovering that the alarm I had set was reminding me that I had only a half an hour left before I would say goodbye forever.
I crumpled up several more nondescript items of clothing and stuffed them in my bag. It was followed, by my funeral outfit, a simple black shirt and sweatpants; I had felt no need to try and appear nice when I was being torn apart inside. So, my clothes reflected my inner state. I scrambled around grabbing some key possessions and of course my sketchbooks. Like a writer uses words and poems to express their feelings, I used my sketchbook. They told stories of me at different points in my life. I flipped through drawings of my friends, a meadow bathed in sunlight, an endless tunnel, disturbing images of the world smeared in blood and several attempts of me trying to capture my mother with a true smile n her face, in the year between her death and my father's. Several drops of tears splattered a clean page of my sketchbook. And I allowed my grief to consume me for a small amount of time.
The last thing I wanted to pack was my mother's wedding dress. It was all I had left of her that was distinctly her. It was a simple cream off the shoulder dress, with delicate pleats and a sweeping train. That precious memento got a suitcase of its own.
I dawdled for a long as I could trying to prolong the moment when I would leave. I had nobody to say goodbye to. In the period during my mother's short sickness and her death, I had pulled away from the scant amount of friends I had managed to acquire in the small time I spent in Forks. I had stopped calling my old friends form Phoenix ages ago, so there was no on left for me. I went to every room of my house, saying goodbye to everything, my eyes trailing over the possessions that would get sold to some un-named person who would never truly appreciate them. The clock said eight thirty and I could not prolong the inevitable anymore. I walked out of my house, into the cab that the angry man had provided and whispered a final "Goodbye" to my house and my memories.
I twisted around in my seat, but the pouring rain obscured any final images in my house, I called up the image in my mind and tears fell silently down my cheeks in coordination with the rain.
As soon, as the train departed form the Forks station. I fell into a numb sleep. My mind completely shut down and I collapsed into blackness.
It was only the voice, blaring over the intercom, "Last call for passenger to exit the train station in Fairbanks, Alaska."
I groaned. The arrival had come too soon. I scurried about; retrieving my suitcases and disposing of the disgusting lunch I had eaten on the train. It was raining here too. To me, the whole world was weeping for my loss. Mother Nature was showing me how she grieved for my predicament. And I grieved with her. But if I was already thinking philosophically, I could also believe that the slate was being wiped clean and I could start fresh again. But that optimistic future allowed for too much hope. And I was not yet ready to hope. In the mere minutes it took me to secure a taxi, I was soaked, my thin shirt clung to my skin, and my jacket was twice as heavy with water weight. My hair adhered to my face in strands and the wind sent shivers down my spine. I squeaked the address to my driver and blasted the heat in my face. It would do no good to arrive drenched, looking like a drowned rat.
As the car ride dragged, on the rain slowed from a torrential down pour to a light rain and eventually it stopped altogether. Let me guess, you're expecting me to say: the clouds parted and the sun came out and everything was fine and dandy. If you guessed that you are sadly mistaken. Although the rain ceased, ominous gray storm clouds hovered menacingly in the sky as though at any moment they would strike and unleash the force of their powers on the unsuspecting .
The taxi pulled in an unmarked driveway and I was honestly surprised that the driver was able to find it, hidden as it was behind an immense amount of overgrown trees and thick forests. At the end of the winding driveway was perhaps the most breathtaking house I had ever laid my eyes on, Nestled within the lush Alaskan forest was a house that looked as though it had literally popped out of a fairytale. From the stone designs on the lower half of the house to the cobblestone walkway that led to the front door. Several long wooden planks created an appealing design on the top half of the house. The house was three stories high and on the left corner there was a gorgeous stone tower with a brightly colored window on the side. The windows on the top half were on top of outcropping and planters filled with thriving, colorful flowers dangled beneath each window. On the lower half, the windows were adorned with cute little shutters that had cut out son the bottom of them. A garden filled with an assortment of flowers surrounded the house and was encircled in a delicate wooden fence. I was proud that I could recognize magnolia, tulips and marigolds growing with in the garden. Propped on the right side of the house was a trellis overgrown with gorgeous roses that were a startling red.
Just next to the house was a smaller building which looked like a garage, but it seemed at least twice as large as any garages back in my hometown of Forks. However the open door revealed several cars and a motorcycle so I concede with great amazement that it was indeed, a garage. Tools and other various house-keeping necessities littered the walls, but what really caught my eye was the obvious ostentatious nature of the cars. I counted five expensive cars: and exceedingly bright yellow Porsche, a polished red BMW, a silver Volvo and a massive, scary looking jeep. I sadly remembered my beloved tuck, the paint was peeling off and I couldn't travel more than 60 mph, despite its poor condition I missed it dearly. Last year my mom and I had sold it pay for my dad's funeral expenses. Needless, to say, living off of a kindergartener teacher's salary does not leave a lot of room for luxuries. The driver reached the end of the driveway and I paid him the hefty sum, leaving me just a little over 300 left. I would have to go job –hunting soon. With my two measly, falling apart suitcases and small back pack, I compare my lack of –well—anything, to their obvious richness.
Lugging my decrepit suitcases, I took careful steps across the stone walkway, remembering my proclivity to falling, I am a klutz, and I deal with it. It just means I occasionally have to walk slower and look down at my feet more than the average person. I stood there for several minutes, drinking in my current predicament and gaining the courage it would rake me to knock on the door. I resolved for at least during my introduction the Cullens, I would restrain my true emotions. Because if they realized how utterly messed-up I was, there was no way I would be admitted into the family. And more than anything, I needed this. I had nothing less. Tentatively, I laid my hand on the dark-stained wooden door, I gulped nervously and knocked.
Behind the door was a man who looked to be in his early thirties. He had honey blond hair and startling blue eyes. He was clearly young, but the depth of his eyes held an infinite wisdom. A small woman, with a motherly figure stood at his side. Her warm brown eyes saturated with warmth and compassion and the open smile on her face was overwhelming. I felt a sharp pain in my heart, she reminded me too much of my dead--it was hard to even think the word-- mother.
"You must be Isabella. Please come in." He said kindly and stepped to the side so I could enter his house.
"Thank you." I whispered, still not trusting my voice to stay steady.
"And please, call me Bella." I said, voice gaining a little volume, as I grew a tad more confident.
Still smiling warmly he said, "Of course. I am Carlisle Cullen and this is my family." I had been so overcome with emotions that I had failed to notice the other people situated in the room.
Lounging on a rich brown couch was a frightening looking man and nestled in the crook of his arm was a stunningly beautiful woman. On a multi-tonal brown chair, diagonal from the couch was a tall blond male, and on the floor, sitting on the cream colored carpet was a petit girl, snuggled between his legs. The woman, who had opened the door with Carlisle, had stepped back a few paces and stood behind the couch. Off in the corner another boy sat on a piano bench.
Carlisle gestured to the woman leaning on the couch, "This is my wife, Esme."
Esme walked around the couch and shook my hand firmly.
"I am so glad you are here. Welcome to our family."
I was startled. It was unbelievable to think that this family could accept me so quickly. I shook my head and said hello politely as too not seem dim-witted or slow.
She glared at the large man at the couch. Obviously urging him to introduce himself too. He was largest man I had ever seen, at least who wasn't on T.V. and a pro-wrestler. His muscles in his torso rippled with the rise and fall of his chest and when he waved hello to me, his biceps looked huge and menacing. If he had been a cartoon, the tight black t-shirt would have ripped several times already.
"Hey. I'm Emmett McCarty."
I smiled graciously, trying to wipe the scared look of my face.
"Hello." I said politely my fear of his massive size evident in the way my voice shook.
"Emmett, I think you look a little scary to her." Teased the girl he had an arm draped over. Emmett's booming laughter shook, the house and the whole couch vibrated.
"Emmett." Esme cautioned in a stern voice. He held up his hands in mock surrender. It was pretty funny and a smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
I turned my attention to the woman underneath Emmett's arm. She was gorgeous. Her body was perfectly proportioned and curved in all the right places. I was able to notice this, by her revealing blood-red top and black mini skirt. She had white blond hair that cascade down her back to settle just around her waist and hazel eyes, heavily accented by eye shadow and mascara. Her skin was a creamy white, with not a single blemish in sight. Her looks rivaled any models'.
"Hello." She said and my heart plummeted, even her voice was the perfect combination of sexy and intelligent.
"My name is Rosalie Hale." I smile internally at how formal this all sounded.
"It's nice to meet you." I responded automatically.
"Hi!" squeaked a high-pitched voice form across the room. A small girl, who reminded me of a pixie, was glowing with excitement and practically bouncing. Her blue eyes danced and offset her cropped inky black hair that was shorn unevenly just above her shoulders. Unexpectedly, she dashed forward and engulfed me in an embrace. I stumbled backwards from the force of the collision. Shock colored my face; I found that Esme, Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle and the two other unnamed members of the family's faces mirrored my shock. The extremely tall male stepped forward and simply picked the small girl up and carried her back over to the couch. My eyes were still wide and I was frozen in my position. This was more than I could handle, another wave of love and acceptance hit me and I fought back the urge to cry because I knew if I began to feel comfortable here, something would happen and I would be torn away from this family too.
The tall male sat down and placed the girl on his lap. She fidgeted until she found a comfortable position. Then looked up ay him and pouted while he restrained her from moving towards me again. I had to smile at the clearly devastated look on her face. He held a finger to her lips and delicately kissed her forehead.
"Hello." He said. His deep voice was mellow and calming. "I am Jasper Whitlock and this is--" He was cut off by the girl on his lap, "And I" she said dramatically, "Am Mary Alice Brandon" her cheery mood was catching and I found myself unable to stop smiling. He look quickly turned menacing "But everybody calls me Alice." She threatened and then chuckled alleviating the sudden tense atmosphere, "I mean come on, Mary!" She shuddered in mock horror. I felt the corners of my lips twitch and turn upwards. I decided right then and there that I might get along well with Alice.
"Edward!" she squealed, "Come introduce yourself!" She clapped her tiny hands together like a small child and then tapped her foot impatiently when he moved too slowly for her liking. Another smile twitched at the corner of my lips.
Edward slowly rose from the piano bench and turned so that he was completely facing me. He was by far the most stunning person ever. I had ogled at the beauty of the rest of the family, but ogling came nowhere near the glazed look that came over my eyes as I was entranced by the perfection of his looks. He was lean and nicely muscled, although much less burly than Emmett. He had expertly chiseled features, like a statue of a god: a sharp jaw, soft full lips and a well--perfect nose. An untidy mop of bronze hair lay lazily on top of his head and flopped gently in his eyes. It was messy, but it suited him. He pushed back a lock of hair with his long white fingers and shook his head desperately trying to return the errant lock of hair to the top of his head. Underneath the curtain of his hair were green eyes, like emeralds that had been cut into a thousand pieces so they sparkled and pierced my soul. It took all of my effort to keep breathing and not collapse weakly on the floor.
"Hello." He said, his musical voice like melting honey. "I am Edward Masen." Edward, I mused, a little old fashioned, but it seemed to fit judging by his polite tone.
"Hi." I mumbled back weakly. Any more words would have jumbled into a mess of confusion, bu ti decide it was okay if I seemed plagued incoherency, with all the nerves that surrounded me. I was an unwanted orphan joining a completely random family. I sighed in relief, I hadn't actually thought through my situation completely and it relaxed meto have it stated so clearly.
A long uncomfortable awkward silence followed my weak reply. I anxiously shifted my weight from foot to foot and twiddled my thumbs. A sudden topic of small talk came to mind.
"Do you play?" I asked, my question aimed at Edward gesturing towards the genral vicinity of the piano.
"Yes. Playing the piano is one thing I love." He responded.
"Well, go on. Play for her." Esme suggested, deluighted that there was a way to fill up the seemingly interminable silence.
He grimaced slightly, but took several long strides to the piano and sat down fluidly on the bench. In an over exaggerated motion he held his hands directly over the keys before precisely placing them in the correct position. They flowed swiftly across the piano, almost blurring with their speed. Beautiful, sweet music filled the air and I unconsciously drifted closer to drink in the splendid sound.
The song was almost unbearably sweet. The sheer beauty of it caused a lone tear to trickle down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away hoping no one would notice.
"It's beautiful." I whispered, "Did you compose this?"
He simply nodded and gaped in awe. It was unbelievable that a sound so beautiful and unearthly was being created not twenty fee tin front of me. His fingers swept gracefully across the keys and the lovely notes floated through the air, rising up into the sky. Traversing boundaries and soaring to new heights. I entered my own reality, carried by the music.
"Oh my god!" Alice screamed. I was thrown violently down to earth, when Edward stopped playing abruptly and we all turned to stare at Alice. I panicked my fear still fresh in my find and my shoulders became rigid. I locked down my vulnerable open heart and prepared for the worse.
"Is that all the stuff you have?" she demanded, her tone questioning my sanity. I sighed and relaxed. When I had drifted forward to appreciate the music, I had revealed my suitcases and their sorry state.
I smiled sheepishly and answered with a simple "Yes."
She darted forward, draped an arm possessively around my should and steered me towards the direction of a doorway. I felt her other arm move and I saw in my peripheral vision that she was signaling to the rest of her family hat we were leaving now. I followed meekly, having no choice with the vice grip she had on my arm. For a very small girl, Alice was surprisingly strong.
He incessant but welcome babble was a nice escape from my tortured thoughts. It was nice to be around people, I had been alone in my mind for too long.
"Oohh. Bella." She cooed, "This is going to be sooooo much fun. We can spend all of the time shopping. I will get you a whole new wardrobe. Trust me, your closest will allow for plenty of room." As she continued speaking her voice became higher pitched and it seemed like she would bubble over with excitement. I had never seen someone so excited by the prospect of clothes. "And we are going to have to coordinate colors; of course you will have some say in the clothes we get you. But I have final veto power. I will take in account what you are comfortable wearing, but be ready to expand your horizons. We might have to wait for the weekend though. I think this could take all day." As she prattled on, dozens of different emotions flitted across her face with each passing thought. Finally, she stopped to take a deep breath and I realized she had said the entire thing without breathing
"I think we are going to be the best of friends." She crowed.
I felt a smile crawl across my lips. Wow, this girl was good. I had barely known her for an hour and this had been at least the third time she had made me smile. I ignored the dark corners of my mind that threatened to dampen my mood and focused only on the present, and my new friend.
I told you it would get happier. For now….
No, it will get better, but there will still be some depressing parts, which I promise will eventually diminish.
Next Chapter Preview:
It took all of my strength to step out of the Volvo. Students milled about the high school and I swear I could feel their stares on me. Everywhere I looked there was someone scrutinizing me. Alice squeezed my arm supportively. But I knew what a new school was like, how it was to be the new girl that everybody gawked at.
I could only imagine that it would be worse now that my past had become even more horrific and gossip-worthy. Last time, I was simply an adopted child with a dead father. Now I am an adopted child, with a dead father, a dead mother and I was recently re-adopted. It felt as though their stares were burning holes in my back and I wanted nothing more than to run away and hide.
Look at me I was such a good author. I gave you a long chapter and a preview of the next one. I guess that means you'll have to review now.
I'll help you out, just press the little blue button on the left. Come on….a little closer…you're almost there…keep going…