BPOV
My name is Isabella Marie Swan. I am 17 years old, and I wish for death...no. I crave it. It's been 6 months since he left…and I don't talk to anyone. I have lifeless brown eyes, and weak mahogany hair that I cut to my collar bone.
It was 12 pm today (Saturday) when I last looked at the clock. I decided to go to the store and get a sketch book and a journal. I may not be superficial or arrogant, but I am artistic…well…I've become that way anyway.
I arrived at the store and went inside. I got a couple thick spiral sketch books, colored artistic pencils, erasers, pencils, coal, and a journal. I left and went home. When I got inside it was 1 pm.
I went to my room and grabbed my new purchases. I opened the journal and let my hand talk. It was about 10 minutes later and I had a product.
I sit by a window
Listening to the rain
Feeling every bit of pain
Inflicted by you
Knowing that you meant it
Feeling the strain
Of watching your face change
From love to hate in a few seconds.
Reliving every moment in my head; it will not stop
Tears coursing down my face; faster than the rain can fall
My pain goes away slowly leaving through my eyes
Hate takes place and lodges itself into what was my heart
Hate-for what you did and how you just left me there
Making me see what a heart can be
What it can turn into.
How could you do this to me?
Stranded within myself
Leaving me in agony; never to return
To what I used to be
After I reread it a few times I realized I had tears on my face. Finally I can let something understand how I feel. I grabbed my sketch book, a piece of coal, and thought.
5 p.m. rolled around faster than I thought possible. I looked down at my 2 drawings and gasped…one was a gigantic wolf with eyes that could boil blood, and the other made me start to hyperventilate…it was our meadow. Well…I guess mine now.
I decided, after I could breathe again, to start dinner. I made spaghetti and put it in the fridge with a note on the table.
Charlie,
I made dinner…spaghetti. It's in the fridge just heat it up. I already ate and am tired.
Night,
Bella
I grabbed my toiletries and made my ways to the shower. I couldn't feel the heat/cold of anything anymore. I took out my "best friend" of a few weeks ago…my blade. I already had a lot of scars but I didn't care. No one checked me due to the wetness of Forks anyway.
I watched as the blood bubbled up around the blade. I didn't smell blood anymore, and I barely felt he blade either. I watched the water change color and got out. It was 7 when I was changed and bandaged. I had school tomorrow but I was failing anyway…honestly who cared anymore? I had completely changed since they left.
My room was dark purple with black shades. I had a blood red comforter and I listed to music I normally wouldn't. My hair was shorter, and I wore eye liner, lip-gloss, and eye shadow/mascara. My outfits consisted of baggy pants or plaid school girl skirts and calf-high black combat boots. I always wore long sleeved shirts (black) with different designs. I got my sketch book out and started drawing.
Halfway through a few more, I heard Charlie get home. I finished my drawing and looked at my designs. I had drawn a starless night, a black wilting rose, a bleeding heart, and eyes with an unknown expression. I shut off my light and looked out my window, till I fell asleep.
I couldn't sleep and got an idea. I grabbed my wallet before I left he house. It was about 1 in the morning, and I didn't care. I opened my window. I was wearing black skinny jeans and long sleeved shirt. I jumped out and ran to my motorcycle in the forest.
I rode to Port Angelos and went to a tattoo place. I went inside and heard, "Hello. How can I help you?" I turned and saw a graying man with an eyebrow raised, looking at me.
"Yes, I'd like a tattoo of this-" I took out my design of a crescent moon, with a star hanging down that was in the middle of an eye (a.n. the eye is the whole design, moon iris, and star pupil.) "please." I said. He said alright and I went to the chair lifting my shirt up to my ribs and laid back.
It was 5 a.m. by the time I was home and Charlie was just coming in to check on me.
Alright. That was anew story…How was it? Please review and tell me. Thanks. Oh..and I wrote the poem Reliving, and the tat design. Bye laters.