Chapter 1 yay!
Disclaimer: I own Ellie's name and all elements not mentioned in Twilight
Chapter 1: Stand in the Rain
Ellie/Bella
Flying sucks. Airports really suck. I waited in the terminal, tapping my foot and clutching a Starbucks coffee like it was the only thing keeping me alive. There were so many people here. I never liked crowds, but now, I could barely stand them.
I hate that they're all so… noisy. Always bustle, bustle, bustle. Does time even exist anymore, with all this rushing?
There's a couple fighting in a café. Both of them looked seriously pissed. Exaggerated gestures, blazing eyes. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was so obvious that they were shouting or nearly shouting.
Get caught cheating, did we? I thought. It was funny enough in a miserable and morbid sense that I smirked. Ah, the manager of the place was coming over. The guy pushed him back, and when the poor man bravely tried again, he got clocked in the eye. Ow.
Uh oh. There was security. They deftly detained the former couple while some other customers helped the disoriented manager to his feet.
On the other side of me was something different. A little boy was screaming his head off while his frazzled and no doubt jetlagged mother was trying to calm him down. He was screaming something about a soda. What a brat.
Then I frowned, rubbing my forehead. I shouldn't be thinking like this. It's not me, I know it isn't. It's this place. The irritation, frustration, and paranoia are overflowing into my thoughts. I just feel so… exposed. Ever since IT, I feel like everyone's staring at me. It's not an entirely baseless feeling. People did stare at me in Phoenix, a lot, especially in school. If I so much as went into a different neighborhood, I got weird looks from people who passed. Even people on the plane were looking at me. I know because I eventually asked for a new seat in the back where I was alone.
Then there's all the noise, obviously, from screaming kids to violent exes. Lastly, there's just so, many, people! Fuck, what the hell was taking my dad so long?
Finally he came, rushing through the crowd over to me. He hugged me tightly, too tightly. I somewhat forcefully wiggled out of his grip, wrapping my arms around myself protectively.
He looked hurt, and miserable, but he understood. No touching.
Oppressed by heavy silence, we left the airport and started the long drive to Forks. I hadn't been there in years since the annual two-week summer visits stopped. I remembered liking the beach though.
Charlie fiddled with the radio, and it wound up on random music station. The song caught my attention.
She never slows down.
She doesn't know why
But she knows that when she's
All alone
She feels like it's all
Coming down
Ain't that the truth, I thought, staring out the window into the dreary day.
She won't turn around
The shadows are long and she fears if she cries
That first tear
The tears will not stop
Raining down
That's not the case, I assure you. There is a well defined point when you run out of tears. And then you're just too far gone to cry anymore.
So Stand in the Rain
Stand Your Ground
Stand Up When It's All Crashing Down
You Stand through the Pain
You Won't Drown
And One Day what's Lost Can Be Found
You Stand in the Rain
I snorted in disgust, and Charlie gave me a worried glance. How optimistic, I thought viciously.
She won't make a sound
Alone in this with herself and the
Fears, whispering
"If she stands, she'll fall down."
I have already fallen.
She wants to be found
The only way out is through everything
She's
Running From
Wants to give up
And lie down
So Stand in the Rain
Oh, not this again.
Stand Your Ground
Stand Up When It's All Crashing Down
You Stand through the Pain
You Won't Drown
And One Day what's Lost Can Be Found
You Stand in the Rain
Such long-winded tripe. Then there was a short musical interlude, and then that annoying chorus repeated twice more. Mercifully, the song ended on a single somber piano chord.
I turned the radio off. But the song stuck in my mind. It was silly, really, and naïve. There was so much that it failed to take into account. What if you can't stand up again? What if the shadows are too strong, or the injuries too severe? I understood that it was meant to be motivational, encouraging, and was left purposefully vague to fit multiple situations, but still. Was the writer really thinking about what she was saying? Was she thinking about just how badly one person could be wounded, especially by another person? Did she understand real pain, physical, mental, emotional agony? Did she know how deeply betrayal could cut, especially the sort of betrayal I experienced over these last months?
I doubted it.
* * (This symbol will appear whenever there is a lapse in time)
It took another two hours to finally get to Forks. I would've used that time to sleep, but I was too worried I might have another nightmare and scare Charlie. So I kept myself awake.
His house looked like I remembered it; modest and neat, with a sense of welcome and at the same time a feeling of authority. It was definitely a house fit for a chief of police in a town like this. I climbed out of his car and into the cool drizzling rain. What a coincidence, I thought wryly.
"Bells, do you want to unpack now or wait awhile?" He asked. "Bells" was his nickname for me, taken from my middle name. It was better than any of the alternatives.
"I'll get it now, Dad," I said, ignoring how I knew my voice must sound. I grabbed my stuff and together we got inside. He showed me to my room and then let me be. That's one of the best things about Charlie; he doesn't hover.
I unpacked my things slowly. Clothes: a mix of blacks and grays. I missed the colors I used to have, but they had too many painful things connected to them. Hopefully I could start anew here. That was my ultimate goal, wasn't it? Photographs: none. Like colors, they hurt too much to look at. Trinkets: one itty bitty cactus in a small blue pot. A reminder of the warmth and sun I was leaving behind. This little guy was officially my closest friend right now. His name was Harold the Cactus, and he kept me up and moving all through the aftermath of IT in Phoenix. No one was a better listener.
Was I bug nuts, talking to a cactus and calling it my friend? Yes, but I was aware of that already. I set him on my nightstand.
I meandered downstairs to the kitchen. Charlie was there at the table, reading the newspaper. I went to the cupboards and rifled through them, looking for something to make for dinner.
"Hold on there, Bells," Charlie said. I turned to face him. He regarded me with a careful, speculative look. "Let me take you out tonight. You just got here and you're exhausted. You don't need to cook."
That sounded… good, I guess? He was right. I was exhausted, physically and mentally, but did I really want to go into town and deal with people?
No. "Okay," I said. He looked relieved.
"I'll go grab my jacket," he said, getting up.
The diner was one of only two places that could qualify as restaurants in Forks. It was a decently sized place, with two rooms of tables and the cooking area in the very back and the bar in the middle. It was a beacon of amiability and warmth. I could certainly see, and feel to some extent, its appeal.
The waitress greeted Charlie with an accustomed air, the locals waved to him, and he moved to one specific table with a sense of familiarity and possessiveness. It was these things that helped me arrive at the conclusion that my father has probably been here more than any other place in time, including his own police station. It worried me vaguely.
"How often do you come here, Dad?" I asked quietly.
He looked sheepish. "Well, kind of often, I guess. Sometimes I'll eat down on the reservation."
I raised my eyebrow, the ghost of a real smile just barely curling at my lips. "And how many times do you get the 8 oz. steak with French fries, coleslaw, and a beer when you come here 'kind of often'?"
He blushed, and rubbed the back of his head. It was funny and, I admit, a bit heartwarming to see him look like an embarrassed schoolboy. I grinned.
That seemed to really catch his attention. He looked at me in poorly hidden surprise, and just like that it slid off my face. He looked sad, but scrambled for some way to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation.
"Anyway, Billy's coming up tomorrow. You remember Billy Black, don't you? From the rez?"
Vaguely. "Yes. Dad…" I struggled to find the right way to phrase this. "Does… does he know?"
His eyes grew dark. "Not everything," he said. "He knows something bad happened, and that's why you came up here, and he knows you've changed your name. That's all I told him. If he knows anything else, he didn't hear it from me."
I nodded, sorry I had to bring it up. "Thanks, Dad."
"For what?"
"For all of this. Taking me in on such short notice, getting me enrolled in school here, and for, you know, keeping… IT …on the down low. Everything."
He regarded me steadily. "Bells, you're my kid. I'll always do what it takes to keep you safe and keep you happy. It's one of those weird parent things." I noticed how pleased he looked when I let him see my little smile. He reached over and carefully put his hand over mine, waiting to see how I would respond. I was okay with little touches like that; anything else, I generally avoided.
The food was good. Charlie got pie for desert, but I abstained for cautionary purposes. The night was drawing near, and with it the chance for another night terror. Best not to give my finicky stomach too much ammunition if I threw up.
Just as we were leaving, a silver Volvo rolled past the diner. I suppose it was because I'd never seen such a fancy car in Forks so far that it drew my eye. I couldn't see who was inside because the windows were tinted.
Disregarding it, I followed Charlie out to his police cruiser.
Let the night begin.
How was it? Feel free to post any questions, comments or concerns and I will do my best to respond. Also, I'd love to hear what people think IT is, so if you want to send me a PM or, if necessary, post a comment, then please do. I want to know what people think so I can figure out how to better introduce it, clues/hints and whatnot.