Disclaimer: I'm not Smeyer

Author's Note: I had a glorious weekend. Lots of tests recently though. Thanks for bearing with me. This is another short one I'm afraid but my next chapter, which you can expect on Sunday or Monday of next week, is going to be pretty long and very eventful. It's kind of dark though. Just a warning. Stay tuned.

Quotes that pertain to this story:

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou, Romeo?....Deny thy father and refuse thy name.-Romeo and Juliet

It was Greek to me.- The Tragedy of Julius Caesar.

As long as he needs me…oh yes, he does need me. In spite of what you see, I'm sure that he needs me.-Oliver!

Chapter Six

The final week of high school, I finally came face to face with the work of my Peeping Tom, my stalker. I had more or less pushed him out of my mind during the last few months. I had had too much to think about. Between finishing my credits for school and spending my free hours with James, I had much on my mind. I was actually pretty happy that spring. James treated me like a Princess and I decided that he must have just snapped and hit me that once. He would most likely never hit me again. I never brought it up with him and tried to push it from my own memory as well. It was in the past, I was stupid to keep thinking about it. In any case, James had had ever right to be angry with me. After all, he had caught me at a restaurant with another man, what was he supposed to think? In some ways, I mentally blamed Edward Masen for my misfortune. As I have previously stated, I made no effort to be even remotely pleasant to him during my last semester of high school. Edward seemed to be trying to get my attention all through that year. He obviously still thought James was a bad influence on me. To be honest, I was amazed that Edward had known the nature of my relationship with James. No one else in Forks knew at the time. Of course, I didn't know for certain that Edward knew, but I was 99.9 percent sure. The way his face had looked when he had mentioned James's name in the café had given it all away. Edward had almost seemed like he had felt sorry for me when he had spoken to me. Looking back on it, it kind of made me sick. I didn't want his pity, I didn't need it. Unfortunately for me, the events of my last week in high school were going to cause many of my classmates to pity me. I hated being pitied. In fact, at that age, I hated being noticed. I only wanted to be noticed by people I cared about which, at that point, was a very small group of people. I was in for a horrid shock.

When I walked into school on the last Monday of the school year, everyone standing by the lockers fell silent. I could feel everyone's eyes on me and then, suddenly, I heard whispering. I knew without a doubt in my mind that they were whispering about me. I saw Jessica standing at the end of the hallway and decided that, if anyone would know why in God's name everyone in the building was staring at me, it would be her. There was no one who was fonder of the latest gossip than Jessica Stanley. "Hey Jess," I said, attempting to sound casual. "What's going on?"

Jessica tried to make her face seem sympathetic, but I could see right through that look. She looked positively gleeful as she looked at me. "Oh Bella, it's awful." she said quickly, her face flushed with excitement. "Look." She reached her hand into her purse and pulled out a picture. For a second, I couldn't quite comprehend the content of the photograph. It didn't seem possible. Apparently, it was. There, in the middle of the picture, was me. I was naked from head to toe standing in my bedroom trying to put my clothes on. It was the picture the Peeping Tom had taken! The pictures I had put out of my mind the last few months, they had come back to haunt me in the worst possible way. But the horrors of my situation didn't stop there. Whoever had taken the picture had edited it and added a picture of James behind me. He was also naked. I felt like screaming. I could tell the photograph was a fake because James had not been with me that morning and we had never undressed anywhere but his sitting from. Still, though, the picture was edited quite well, I must admit. Had I not been the person who had been photographed, I would not have believed it was a fake at all. The bottom line was, it didn't matter that that particular photo was a fake. The whole school now doubtlessly believed that I was involved with James sexually. It was no secret that we were friends, but now, because of my Peeping Tom, the whole school and possibly all of Forks knew my secret. I knew perfectly well that, if the people of Forks didn't know about my relationship with James, it wouldn't be long before they did. Forks was tiny and I knew news of an affair like mine with James would not be a secret long. "Bella," Jessica grabbed my shoulder, "Bella, are you all right?"

I didn't answer. How could I respond to such a stupid question? I felt like passing out. My stomach was churning and I was becoming increasingly ill. These pictures were going to ruin both my reputation and James's, it was just that simple. Also, although I didn't want to, I couldn't help but wonder what James would have to say about all of this. I feared that he would be angry and perhaps take it out on me. I shivered when I thought of what had happened at Christmas time. Then, I felt a wave of depression overtake me. I scolded myself for mistrusting James, even for a second. He deserved better than me. I was a failure. I cast my eyes downward, gazing at the floor beneath me. When I looked up, my eyes met Edward Masen's. All of a sudden, a wretched thought occurred to me.

"You!" I cried out, pointing my finger at him, my body shaking with fury, "You made these!" I screeched, holding up the picture. "You did this to me, you sick bastard!" I rushed toward him and jumped at him, digging my nails into his skin. The crowd behind me that was gathered at the lockers gasped, but I didn't let go. Within seconds, Edward pushed me off of him. However, when he did so, he was gentle and soft. I was surprised. I had expected him to be forceful when removing me. I had after all, just attacked him with all of my might. I was also a bit embarrassed, as it had taken very little of Edward's energy to detach me from him. There was a still silence that filled the hallway for a moment. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the teachers during all of this. Surely they would have heard some of this by now. A few moments later, when still no adult had arrived, I fell to my knees, shaking with sobs. I no longer cared what anyone thought of me. They would all think of me as a whore from then on anyway. What did matter if they saw me cry? The longer I wept, the more I became positive that my assumption had been correct. I was sure that Edward Masen was my Peeping Tom. Who else could it have been? The signs had been there and I hadn't seen them until it was too late. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I didn't look up. "Go away." I snapped.

"Bella," Edward said softly, "Bella, I didn't do this. Someday, you'll realize that." With that, he left me and went on his way. As soon as he had walked down the hall, the students who were still standing by their lockers exploded with chatter. I was too ashamed to look at any of them. Some of them booed me as I passed, trying to make it to my first class of the day. On my way to that class, however, I was stopped by the principal of the school. When I heard him call my name, I knew I was toast. There was no way out of my predicament, even he knew. I felt a sudden urge to attack Edward Masen all over again.

"Miss Swan!" bellowed Principal Weaves in a loud voice, "Miss Swan, I would like a word with you."

Quickly I wiped my eyes "Of course sir." I replied.

"Good." he said, his voice cold. "Follow me to my office." What choice did I have? With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I trailed close behind him, wondering what was in store for me and knowing instinctively that it wouldn't be good. I couldn't have been more correct. The second I walked into his office, I saw Charlie sitting in the chair beside his desk, the chair all of the students who were being reprimanded had to sit in when they came into the headmaster's office. As I walked into the room, Charlie stood up. He was shaking with emotion but whether it was anger, sadness, or disappointment, I couldn't be sure. Maybe it was a mix of all three. When he saw me walk into the room, my father stood up. In his hand, he clutched a copy of the horrid picture that had already caused me so much trouble that morning.

"Bella," he demanded, "Bella, what the hell is going on?"