I'm inexplicably SORRY! It took me so long to get this chapter up. I made the idiotic mistake of going to summer school and it is consuming all of my time and energy. Plus, I was forced to get a job this summer….which I am NOT even getting paid for. (and this is where I keep grumbling to myself)…
Okay. I am done complaining. Here is the next chapter. If all goes as planned the following chapter will have a Bella and Edward interaction. By the way, sorry about the teaser from the last chapter; got a little a head of myself and that part is still at least two chapters away.
Disclaimer:
My Mom: What do you want for your birthday?
Me: (without hesitation) the rights to Twilight.
My Mom: Sorry. I can't buy you that. How about a pony?
Me: (grumbling to myself about Stephenie Meyer owning EVERYTHING.) Fine. But can I at least name it Twilight?
I have to say my day did not start well. Mainly because it started with a panic attack. I woke up in an unfamiliar room that I had yet to be acquainted with, in an unfamiliar bed, in clothes that were clearly not mine. They were pink pajamas with, fur lined sleeves, which was a great contrast to my grungy sweats and worn-out sweats. It took at least ten minutes to remember that I was at the Cullen house, in my new room and the pajamas…well I don't know. I struggled through the early morning haze to remember last night's events.
No more than twenty minutes after Alice dragged me off; I was rescued by Jasper and Emmett. Armed with popcorn and various DVD's they burst into the room announcing that we were all watching a late night movie. It was clearly not up to negotiation. Honestly, all I remember about the movie was the opening credits; I couldn't even tell you what it was called. Because shortly after the movie started, I fell asleep. Isn't that just a great way to start off with a new family—pass out on their couch?
Obviously, someone had carried me into my new room and dressed me in these hideously bright pajamas. And then a horrifying thought hit me, followed by a blush that swept across my cheeks, "I wonder who carried me and more importantly, who changed me?" my inner voice shrieked raising several octaves.
Mentally, I calmed myself, reassuring my petrified inner-voice that it was surely Alice who changed me. My deep breaths and attempts at self-distracted gave me ample time to appreciate my surroundings.
I craned my head in all directions, wanting a full view of my new room. The walls were simple and white-washed; although, I wasn't sure if the color-choice was intentional or I was being consulted on a shade. On the left wall there was a simple dresser with a mirror resting on top and on the opposite wall was a closet and the open door next to it revealed a glimpse of a tiled bathroom floor. On my right was a simple metal night table, housing a lamp and a glass of water. The bed sat central in the room, resting a top a monochromatic black rug. My head was cushioned by a variety of plush pillows in shades of black and red or white ones blazoned with intricate designs reminiscent of the Victorian Era. The duvet cover matched the Victorian ambiance; it was black with white embellishments and several red accents.
Stretching and releasing my stiff muscles from their captive state, my wrist collided with a cold metal object above my bed. Tipping my head so I was almost face-down in a pillow, I could make out the hazy view of a metal headboard. Grumbling to myself, I forced my body to flip over and give me a more valuable view, rather than one obstructed by a white film of a pillow case. The wrought iron spokes were decorated with twisting vines and several metal flowers. It was exquisite.
However, the one item in the room that outweighed the glory of the comfortable bed a intricately adorned headboard was the window directly in front of me. It was not just a window; more like the entire wall was glass. Delicate satin black curtains hung on the corners of the wall, held captive by a red rope. Directly beneath the window was a charming window seat overflowing with mounds of cushy pillows, ripe for resting my head on. As much as I admired the decorations surrounding the window, I was simply captivated by the breath –taking view. And endless expanse of lush Alaskan country side spanned as far as I could see. Trees of carrying shapes and shades of green filled the window and purplish mountains surrounded by a ring of clouds were in the distance. The sun was rising and a pink tinged sky accented the view, creating a marvelous contrast. With the spindly branches raking across the wall, a unique composition was splayed out before my eyes. My fingers itched and my mind screamed for my sketch book and as much every fibbed of my being desired to sketch the view I knew that I couldn't draw right now. It would be fair…and I couldn't draw again.
With the risk of temptation, I stumbled over the wall and tugged gently on the silk ties, relishing in the rustle of the curtains as they blocked the enticement. In the interest of time and relieving my retinas form over-exposure to bright colors, I closed my door to get dressed and was greeted by a full length mirror which displayed my tattered appearance. My eyes were red and blotchy from crying. Lately, I had taken to startling my self awake and crying for no apparent reason other than the fact that I was alone. My hair was matted to the side and several tufts stuck up in random places. I ran a brush through it quickly and shoved on my lovable worn jeans.
The alarm beeped reminding me of the one thing I was dreading in this new life –school. School had been bearable, until I had moved. I wasn't very good at being the new girl; I am generally shy and not very talkative. Not to mention, my interesting family history usually was known by every student in the school before I had even put one foot in the halls.
I heard a serious of fast and spastic knocks in the door and just as I was going to heave myself off of the bed the door burst open and Alice sped in. She posed in the center of the room eyeing me suspiciously,
"You are not seriously wearing that to school, are you?" she exclaimed in shock as though I was committing a horrendous and punishable crime.
I glanced down at the baggy jeans and ratty t-shirt I had thrown on and mumbled a "Yes."
She glared me straight in the eye, "NO." Roughly grabbing my arm, I was unwillingly dragged out of my room and thrown into Alice's.
"Jasper, sweetie, I need you to leave."
"Yes Ma'am." he replied politely and I detected a faint southern twang.
He ducked his head politely and began to leave the room. Alice. She kissed him quickly as he walked out and then whirled around facing me.
"Step Number 1: Clothes."
She assaulted me with a barrage of clothes. Several too revealing outfits later, I was properly clad in what Alice called "a compromise of an outfit".
I considered it a stretch.
She had me in jeans. Okay, that was fine. It was the too bright, too cheery, too…I don't even know…Too happy… orange peasant shirt with gold embroidery on an empire waist and matching orange pumps. I hadn't worn anything remotely in the rainbow spectrum that didn't involve neutrals and dark colors, since my dad had died and my mom had slipped into her stupor.
And then it happened.
The wall protecting me form those emotions crumbled and I was battered by an onslaught of memories. I stumbled in a daze over to the make-up table, as directed by Alice. But I missed my entire makeover, because I was immersed in my memories.
She wouldn't get out of bed. And frankly I didn't want to either. But I woke up to the obnoxious beeping of my alarm, and instead of the smell of breakfast floating upstairs; I was greeted by a cold, empty feeling. Namely, the absence of my father and the dissipation of our stable family and practiced routine. Swallowing a fresh wave of tears, I tripped blindly down the hall, searching for my mother.
In all my life I will never forget the sight of my mother that morning. Even before I opened the door I could sense her hopelessness, desperation and loneliness. I could feel the hole that was inside of her, a gnawing hole that try as hard as I might, I could not fill it. She whimpered from inside and I inadvertently pictured a critically wounded puppy. Steadying myself I took a deep breath and opened the door.
The room was dark and stale air wafted outwards. In the middle of the bed lay my mother curled up in a ball. The wrinkled sheets lay twisted around her but she didn't seem to notice—or care. She was wearing one of my dad's shirts and as I watched both in shock and horror she leaned in, breathing the scent of my father still lingering on his clothes. Splotches dotted the tan sheets where her tears had done their damage.
Pictures throughout the room had been knocked off the wall and shattered class was scattered all over the floor. At my feet was a picture of my mom and dad on their wedding day. They are toasting glasses of champagne, both radiating a joy that jumps off of the image and catches my soul, stealing my breath. But the serenity and happiness of the frozen moment is marred by the jagged crack that obstructs the image of the couple deeply submerged in love.
In that single second, my entire world fell to shambles around me. The undeniable lack of my father and the cationic state of my mother. The single hope I had left, the one person who, together, we could reassemble our fragmented life had abandoned me. Although not physically, mentally she was no longer capable of being a functioning mother.
My mom didn't even seem to notice I had entered her room. She stared blankly at the wall, silent tears dripping down her face, her nose pressed into my father's shirt.
I ran over to her and sat down slowly. Gently, I moved her head so I could cradle it in my lap and I stroked her hair as she cried. Time could have been standing still for all I noticed, because the broken shell sagging into my lap, was all I had left. And I would never let her go. With that conviction, I tightened my grip on my mother's head as she sobbed uncontrollably. I detached my mind, drifting form the present and welcoming a soothing numbness that washed away my pain.
And now she was gone. A single tear trickled down my cheek and I saw in the mirror a black streak sliding down my cheek.
"Oh, Bella" Alice chastised, "Look what you did!"
"I'm sorry." I croaked my voice hoarse with sadness.
Suddenly, her mood changed drastically and she pulled me up into an embrace, "Bella, Are you okay?" she asked distressed.
"I was just…remembering." I struggled with the word and chocked back tears.
"Bella," she said softly, "it's okay to miss them, but you have to learn that they wouldn't want you to live your life in misery. I learned that a long time ago." Alice said wistfully.
I trusted the wisdom in her voice.
"Can I tell you my story?" she asked. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"It's a long story. I am just warning you, it is not a happy one. We don't have much time, so it would be good if you didn't interrupt. I think it may help."
"Of course and thank you."
She took a deep breath and in a million years I could have never imagined such a story.
"My parents died when I was only six. They died in a terrible car accident. I was the sole survivor, although I survived with massive head trauma. It wiped my memory clean. When I woke in the hospital, I was attached to several monitors, I had needles sticking into my arms and a man in a white shirt stood over me. He told me that my parents had died in the car accident. I asked him, 'What car accident?' Several tests later the man in the white coat determined that my limbic system had shut down and I suffered from retrograde amnesia. In other words, I have no memory of anything that happened before I woke up in that hospital room."
My eyes widened and my jaw dropped and she looked at me sadly, but continued on with her story. I could not even dream to interrupt. The mere idea of having no recollection of your parents rendered me speechless and a familiar, but less intimidating numbness crawled into my mind. Before I was completely shackled to the present, a single thought flared in my head, I was lucky. At least I had my memories.
"I only know what people have told me about the actual accident. Apparently, it had been snowing hard that night, the roads were unsafe for driving, but for some reason unbeknownst to me we were plowing through the blizzard anyways. The roads were slick from the snow and too much snow had accumulated on front windshield of the car. Their vision obstructed, they car went spinning out of control and crashed into a guard rail and the sheer force of the collision smashed the rail and sent us careening into the valley below. We were found several hours later."
Alice pauses here, taking a steadying breath and her next installment comes out in a detached-sounding voice. As though, she is afraid to fully submerse herself in what happened that fateful night.
"My father died instantly, being the driver, he was on the full impact side. I am told he felt no pain. My mother on the other hand died of internal bleeding and hypothermia. My head had slammed forwards into the passenger seat knocking me unconscious. I sustained several cuts and bruises, and several pieces of glass were extracted from my body and more importantly my skull."
She bent forward and parted her hair on the left side, showing a faint jagged scar that ran down the left side of her hair and I saw the edge of it poking up just above her ear. I gasped as I comprehended how truly terrifying moment like that would be and what amount of pain would go along with it. Especially, to still have a scar after eleven years.
"I also had a sister, Cynthia. After having established that I no recollection of her, they sent her off to an orphanage , deeming that it would be too traumatic for a three year old to live with a sister who did not know who she was and could possibly never remember. I don't even know if she knows that I am still alive."
She sighed contemplatively, entangled in the thoughts that seemed to be forever questions.
Alice opened a drawer on her nightstand and pulled out a worn photograph. There were four people in the picture. On the left was a tall man. With glasses perched a top his nose, he had a mess of brown hair atop his head and in his arms he held a young girl. The young girl was facing away from the camera, dutifully sucking on her thumb; her brown hair was pleated into braids secured with tiny little pink ribbons. Standing next to the man was a woman whose head barely reached his shoulder. She was smiling directly at the camera, her blue eyes too similar to Alice's. Sitting at the woman's feet was another girl still fairly young, but older than the toddler. She had stunning raven black hair that traveled almost to her waist and piercing blue eyes that drew my eye instantly. She smiled hugely, an ear-to-ear smile that made it hard to focus on anyone else in the picture.
"That was my father Daniel Brandon. He is holding my sister Cynthia and next to him is my mother Mary Brandon. According to my birth record my name was Mary Alice Brandon, but it felt weird to use the name of the mother I don't remember, which is why I go by Alice."
She put the picture away, taking care to place it carefully and avoid any damage. I observed how delicately she handled the fraying edges.
"Where was I" Alice mused.
"Right. Cynthia. We were placed in different orphanages and I haven't heard anything about her since that auspicious day. About six months later Carlisle found me in the orphanage and adopted me. I had already become inseparable friends with Jasper and I adamantly refused to go unless he adopted Jasper too. Grudgingly, he accepted my request."
I opened my mouth to ask a question but she shushed me and began speaking again.
"It has been eleven years and everyday I still wake up thinking I might remember. But, by now, I am practically positive that it is never going to happen. So, I have tired… virtually successfully I might add…to shut the idea away. I decided that living my life in the past is simply not an option and it would be best to not even dwell on it. I have a wonderful life now and a great family. Although, I can't compare them to my original family, I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. I let go and embraced my new life. Hopefully, you will be able to that too."
She laughed unexpectedly.
"Of course, I have had eleven years to accept what destiny has doled out to me; you have had less than a week. I would say if anything, you deserve time."
"Bella." She looked at me beseechingly and held my hands, softly squeezing them in reassurance.
"The next statement that leaves my lips, is not meant to ensure any type of pity. Do you hear me? No. Pity." She enunciated her disclaimer and I unintentionally cracked a smile.
"You have something that I don't have and probably will never have."
I hope the look on my face questioned her insanity, because internally, I was. What would she desire that I had? My morose thoughts? My crippled heart? My aching soul?
"You have your memories. I realize that your memories don't seem like blessings right now, but I would love to remember my previous family. I would love to know why we were in that car. Why Cynthia wasn't. I would want to find Cynthia again and tell her how happy I was when she was born. But what if I wasn't? Did I even want a sister?"
She sighed, her shoulders rising with the motion, "Cherish your memories. Be blessed that you have them. But think hard, weren't there joyful parts of your past too? Those are crucial to remember. And aren't there more memories to be made?"
"Alice, I'm--"
She wagged a finger in my face, "I said no pity. I have made peace with my past and I am creating my own family."
Silently, she wiped the tears off of my blackened cheeks and began to leave. Abandoning me to my incomprehensible thoughts, as though moving through a fog began to slide into place.
I suddenly made several connections in my mind: why the man in the tacky suit had stressed the word parents so strangely when he discussed Carlisle and Esme, why none of their children looked alike and coupled with the new information that I had just received from Alice…
"Wait. Alice!" I called and she took several steps away from the door, halting directly in front of me.
"Are all of you orphans?" I questioned breathlessly, afraid she would leave or I would lose my nerve if I didn't spit it out quick enough,
"Yes. They didn't tell you?" She asked, raising a delicate eyebrow in blatant disbelief.
I ducked my face in shame. Admittedly, they most likely had. "I wasn't really in a listening mood."
She nodded understandingly. "Edward's been here the longest. Carlisle nursed him back to health shortly before he even found Esme. They adopted Rosalie next, who found Emmett trying to survive in the Appalachian Mountains. And well, you know where Jasper and I come in."
She tossed the orange pumps in my lap, "Put these on and meet me downstairs." She commanded and turned on her heel, loping out the door.
It took me a moment to collect my jumbled thoughts and I shook my head several times to clear it, "Th-Thank you!" I called to her retreating figure, "for everything…I mean."
A high pitched giggled drifted down the hall.
I hope you liked it.
Unfortunately, I can not tell if you liked it, unless you review! So……let me hear your thoughts…review.
P.S. I am in the market for a beta….any takers?