Chapter 8: The City is at War

Sometimes, we wonder why certain things happen to us. Whether it's winning the lottery, or having a day of bad luck, or even achieving something great. Sometimes, we continue to wonder why these things happen to us without cause, or even a reason. But sometimes, there are reasons. Reasons that would have everything making sense...

-CUT TO BELLA IN LIVING ROOM SURROUNDED BY SEVEN PEOPLE SCREAMING AT EACH OTHER-

But not this.

"This is ridiculous! I'm not staying in the same household as him!"

"Who invited them into our house?"

"Your shoes are everywhere, you midget!"

"I DON'T WANT THAT EMO ANYWHERE NEAR ME! SHE MIGHT KILL ME!...or worse—CUT OFF MY HAIR!"

"Shut up, you bitch!"

"Your CRUSHING me!"

"Edward, this is not how you treat guests!"

"Everyone, quiet!"

Everyone was silent as they stood around the room, practically at each other's throats. I remained un-moving as I sat on the couch with my legs crossed and my arms crossed in front of my chest. I wondered idly what I had done to deserve this, not why it happened. Because this was fucking hell.

Because I was stuck in this house for two weeks with mother fucking Hale, Cullen, McCarty, Whitlock, and Brandon.

"Now, all of your parents are away..." the Mrs. Cullen said, and was about to be interrupted by everyone, once again, but she narrowed her eyes in a menacing death glare, shutting them up. "We have been filled in on the fight that occurred today. We do not fight in this house. You will all treat each other with respect, or have nothing to say to one another. Although, I do wish you would grasp the opportunity to converse with each other and you may all become friends…" she trailed off I stared at her with a disgusted expression on my face. My eyes snapped around the room to see everyone staring at her with the same expression. Well, at least we could agree on one thing, then. We all hated each other.

"Yea, okay..." I said sarcastically, getting up from the couch and walking over to where my bag was lying on the ground, I grabbed it and ran up the stairs, darting down the hallway, glancing into the different rooms as I passed. The house was nice, I had to admit that. It was painted a mature white with gold carpet covering every inch of the house, all except the kitchen. The entire back wall of the house was made of pure glass. The house was sort of on the cool side, but a sweet cinnamon-smell wafted through the hallways. I inhaled and held in the sweet scent, drowning myself in the sense of pleasure it gave me.

I finally came to a stop at the last opened door of the hallway. There was another room further down, but it was closed. I walked into the open room and dropped my heavy bag lazily onto the soft carpet, and looked around. The room was very business-like, but I like to use the word mature. It had a large, black leather couch in the middle, and to the side was a queen-sized bed covered with a deep blue comforter. A dresser sat across the room, and a nightstand sat beside the bed, holding a large lamp.

I quickly ran over to the couch and flopped on it lazily. But I forgot about one thing. "Fuck!" I hissed as a tremor of pain shot through my body. I clenched my eyes shut as I crossed my legs and put my hands behind my head.

That was when I was hit with sudden realization—Jacob.

He is going to kill me when he finds out where I am.

"Get off of that couch. I need that couch for things, and I don't want to touch it after you've been on it." A sarcastically velvet-like voice came from the doorway. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and stared straight up at the bronze-menace himself.

"What do you mean...things?" I asked. He smirked at me.

"Wha…Oh, GOD! That's disgusting!" I screamed, scrambling off of the couch as quickly as possible as to not injure myself anymore. His chuckle did not go unheard as I got as far away from the couch as possible. It was no secret that Edward Cullen was not a virgin.

"Why...why the hell would you do that on...on a couch...and in a guest room?" I shrieked, at a loss for words. He continued to stand there smugly, leaning against the door jam with his arms crossed.

"Why not?" he stated. I could practically feel his smugness radiating from him.

"You're repulsive." I snapped, and reached for my bag. Trying my best to ignore him, I started putting my clothes into the dresser.

"You should try it some time. It's very...relaxing. I could show you a good time." he stated, smirking. A shudder ran through me as a visual broke through my barriers around my mind, displaying a scene involving him that I really did not want to even think about. I spun around to glare at his perfect features.

"Fine. Then show yourself out the door." I snapped.

"Don't be like that. You never know what you're missing until you taste it."

"You are a heartless, disgusting monster!" I hissed. He stared at me in shock for a moment before his jaw clenched in anger and he stood upright, his muscles recoiled and his posture stiff.

"At least I'm not a little loner who's as invisible as thin air. If you disappeared, no one would notice. Whereas, if I disappeared, everyone would be traumatized." He stated strongly.

"Sluts don't have a mind capable of feeling such feelings." I stated, flashing him a smirk as I tried to cover up the flinch of pain I felt inside at his comment. It hurt because it was true.

"Look, you silly little girl," he said, walking forward and grabbing a hold of my elbow. I shrieked out in pain and flinched away from his grip. His brow furrowed in confusion, before he started talking again. "This is my house. My turf. My rules. You get in my way, you'll be sorry."

As soon as the words left his mouth, my frustration and anger tumbled over the edge and I was shaking in fury.

"I don't follow by anyone's rules but my own." I snapped, slamming the dresser shut. It was a lie. "I don't let people walk all over me," I turned to face him. Another lie. "and I certainly don't let boys like you push me around like a fucking child!" I screamed in his face. That was the biggest lie of all.

He stared at me in shock as I shoved past him and walked to the door. "Get the fuck out!" I cussed. In a sort of daze, he walked past me and out the door, but turned to flash one last glare at me in the doorway. Without thinking, I slammed the door as hard as I could in his face.

"Ow! FUCK!" I heard a moan from the other side of the door. "That was my nose!"

I grinned as I stood in front of the door. Really, that felt great. I hope I broke his nose. That would be excellent.

"Meeting downstairs, everyone!" Esme's light voice drifted up to the room. I stood there for a moment, thinking of ditching the meeting. Really, why the hell did I need to be there? What was she going to tell me that would hold any sort of importance for my pathetic life? My life couldn't get much worse than this. Part of me hoped that Jacob wouldn't find me here, but the rational part knew that if he never did than I would get a beating that much more worse.

Finally, I gave in, opened the door roughly, and it swung inwards crashing against the wall loudly as I stalked into the hallway. I trudged down the stairs, not daring to look a single person in the eye as I sat down on the last step.

"Nice of you to join us, Isabella." Esme said politely.

"She was probably cutting her wrists." Hale smirked, proud at her comment. I smiled lightly to myself. She was as shallow as a kiddy pool, and it made it that much easier to see through. I knew her games. And I knew exactly how to beat them. I looked her straight in the eye.

"You know, it's surprisingly difficult to cut your arm that quickly and then make your presence known to others without bleeding all over everything. I mean, if you use the proper razorblade," I said casually, and pulled out my knife from my back pocket. In one swift movement, it flipped open, revealing the sick looking blade. She flinched. "It wouldn't bleed as much. But this, for example, is much more effective, and if you hit the right artery—" I made a slitting throat noise as I pointed the knife at her, closing one eyes as to focus on my target.

"Bella!" Esme hissed at me. Sighing, I flipped the blade closed and stuffed it in my back pocket. "There are rules for this house. Curfew is midnight, or else a call will be made to the police. No smoking in the house, and be kind to each other." Esme said, looking at every one of us. Emmett was a huge mass leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Cullen was glaring at me with a bloody nose from his seat next to Hale, who was looking around in disgust, Alice was staring up at Esme with wide eyes, and Jasper was slouching on the couch, chewing what I knew for a fact was not gum.

I rolled my eyes.

"What the hell are you rolling your eyes at, Swan?" Jasper snapped. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I don't know, it's pretty damn fucked up." I shot back.

"Get a life." Brandon shrieked at me.

"Get a face." Hale snapped at Brandon.

"Get a soul." Emmett muttered.

"Get a brain." said Cullen.

"GET A PAIR!" I screamed at Cullen, jumping up from the staircase as my anger broke loose. Everyone stared at me for a moment, and then at Edward, before McCarty and Whitlock busted up laughing.

"Oh my god!" they chorused as they became out of breath, clutching their sides. Cullen glared at me, while Brandon and Hale looked at Whitlock and McCarty with disgusted expressions. We opened our mouths, all about to start another war...

When the damn mother-fucking doorbell rang.

My jaw clenched in frustration as I stood in the middle of the room, everyone tense and prepared for battle, as Esme scurried to the front door. In one swift movement, she jerked open the large mahogany door that was detailed with glass and finished with a flawless layer of gloss. A gust of cold air wafted through the room as the night's chill entered the house, and darkness swarmed from outside like a thick fog. I heard Esme's bubbly voice talking sweetly with whoever was at the front door. Finally, she stepped aside and let them inside. The hair on the back of my neck stood on ends and a chill ran down my spine.

"Hey babe, miss me?" his voice sent warning signs blaring through my mind and my muscles tensed further. He walked towards me and took my pale hand in his, pulling me into his embrace. I glanced quickly at the others in the room who were all watching in straight-up confusion. I closed my eyes as Jacob started leading me out of the house, and towards what I knew would be a party of pain.

I limped up the front porch of the house incoherently. I was sure I had bruised ribs, sprained ankle, and bruises and cuts covering every inch of my skin. That was my punishment for not telling him where I had gone. As I silently opened the door to the house and walked into the dark living room, I breathed in a shaky, whimpered breath. I was weak. That was all that I'd ever be.

Everyone was in bed. The living room was completely dark, lit only by the reflection of the moon shadowing objects. The trees outside rustled in the breeze, casting dancing shadows across the objects around the room. That was when a small movement out of the corner of my caught my attention, and I flinched. My breathing hitched, only to realize it was Jasper. He was staring off into space as he drank from the beer bottle in his hand, and from his expression highlighted by the moon light, he looked drunk. His eyes were lazy and his mouth was slightly open, and he looked fifty years older than he was.

I limped away from the door painfully, wishing to be able to make it to my room. That was all that I wanted. But I gasped in shock as my sprained ankle gave way underneath me, and I tumbled to the ground, where I lay in pain. Jasper stayed where he was, and for once, I was glad. Because the thing was, there was nothing he could do to help my pain, so why should he bother moving or helping me up? And as I lay there on my back, drowning in the pain from my wounds, I just let it have me. Because even though Jasper was there and anyone else would have jumped up to help me, asking if I was alright, Jasper knew I was not alright, even though he did not know why. He knew that there was nothing that anyone could do about problems that I may have, and wasting effort by helping me up, or asking if I was alright, would be utterly useless.

"Do you believe in bad luck?" I mumbled as I lay on the ground staring at the ceiling. He brought the bottle back up to his lips.

Moments of silence passed before he made any sign of hearing my question.

"The world is fucked." He mumbled in a deep, gruff voice. "There's no bad luck. We're all just cursed."

"God never meant it to be this way." I stated quietly.

"God never meant anything to be any way! This is all a lie. Look at how he's made the world," he stated, bringing the bottle back to his lips and taking a long drink, before he pulled it away and sucked in a raged breath. "We're all living a lie."

I never knew just how much truth that Jasper's last words of conviction held.

Just so you know, Jasper does NOT know that Bella is abused.