A/N: This is the second chapter…This chapter is dedicated to my son and my friends…Thanks for your support… I love you…
**A special note to the readers…secondary two…is in High School…I am Canadian…so here…in Canada…where I live… secondary two is the second year in High School…
My mother tongue is French. I hope that there are no mistakes in my text…My ultimate goal is to be perfectly bilingual…I love English and I truly do my best to write a story with no mistakes…
The characters belong to S.M…Thanks for your saga…In 'HOPE' they belong to me…
HOPE chap.2
WHEN LIFE IS SAD
BELLA
Flashback… (Bella…8 years old to ten years old)
I was not a happy child; why should I smile? There was never a thing that could make me smile. This life was just an existence of pain and suffering…even when the sun was shining, there was rain in my heart…
I hated my foster families. There was no love for me, ever…just screaming, battering, privation and abuse.
I never stayed long in a family too. They got rid of me as soon as it was unbearable…for them and for me.
Not that I didn't try… I wanted to be loved… but I guessed I was born under an unlucky star…
I tried to be nice at the beginning. But everything I did was not correct…and if it was correct, well, all they were looking for was the slightest fault…and then, there was more beating and… more bruises.
So, I stopped being nice and polite…
I began to be arrogant and aggressive.
When I was eight, I remembered…I think…this really began to be hell on earth.
The foster parents had five children…not their children…no, children, who were orphans or who have been neglected or abandoned by their parents. Poor kids…just like me…who were just seeking for love and dreaming of a happy life.
At that time, I was a freaking nervous child. I was not talkative either. The two previous families that I'd been living with had already marked me. I was like an animal…I felt like an animal trapped in a cage.
At the age of eight, I was still wetting my bed. The first night I slept in this new foster house…was the first time I had to sleep in my own urine.
Mrs. Newton was a tall, severe woman. I had never seen her smile…She was a cantankerous, vile, and a wicked person. Her husband, Mike Newton, was not better. He was a drunkard, aggressive and violent man.
I woke up in the middle of the night. I had a very fearful nightmare; the same nightmare that came back, almost every night…the corpse of my dead mother laying on the floor, and me, sitting next to her, trying to wake her up.
As soon as she heard me screaming, Jane Newton came to the bedroom. She grabbed me by the hair and slapped me on the face…not just once…at least four times….
Then, when she realized that my bed was wet, as well as my sheet…she called her husband. He climbed up the stairs, unbuckled his belt and he began to hit me…Hard and for a long time…I didn't count…but as I was crying…He told me that he would continue as long as I would cry.
I stopped crying and clenched my teeth…He finally stopped and pushed me on the bed.
"So Swan…eight years old…still wetting your bed…Little bitch…Why do you think is a bathroom for? Jane Newton yelled at me. You want to wet your bed…well…sleep in it…and don't dare change your pyjamas…and tomorrow…maybe I'll allow you to change your sheet…and no breakfast for you…" Nothing to drink…nothing to eat…Do I make myself clear? She said in an aggressive voice.
"Yes" I answered.
"Yes…what? And look at me…fucking idiot"…She added, slapping me again.
"Yes, Mrs. Newton". I answered in a clipped voice, my eyes pricking and bringing tears to my eyes.
"Are you crying again?" Mr. Newton asked…Do you want me to unbuckle my belt again?"
"No sir"…I am not crying…"
"Go back to sleep and shut your fucking mouth this time"
I didn't sleep a wink. I was so afraid to have that nightmare again.
The next morning, they sent me to school; almost kicking me out of the house. I was hungry and thirsty. And my back, my legs and my buttocks were covered with bluish bruises.
I was not good at school. I knew I was clever, but I couldn't concentrate on anything. I was just so hungry all the time. I had this constant headache. My empty stomach was giving me terrible migraine.
Lunchtime was not better. The lunch box was always almost empty…No fruits…no vegetables, no cheese, no dessert; just a plain sandwich with a slice of meat and a bottle of water. How could a child be concentrated when the only thing she was thinking about was food?
I envied all the other kids when they opened their lunch boxes. It looked so delicious, so appetizing. Sometimes, a student would share his lunch with me, an apple, a slice of cheese, a cookie…Those days, I was almost happy…but that did not happen often.
When I was back at my foster house, hell went on.
As soon as I was in the house, me as well as the other kids, we were sent to our room. My life was like that; days in school and nights and week-ends in the bedroom. No T.V…no activities…no time to play outside…Every kids had household chores…and we'd better do our chores the perfect way…and it was never perfect. Everything was a cause to more battering and bruises.
The food they served was disgusting… The meat was hard to chew, the vegetables were not fresh and everything was soaking in a tasteless sauce… The milk was artificial; made of a powder and water…and full of lumps…
One time, I brought up a part of my meal. Jane Newton was so mad. She slapped me directly on the mouth and forced me to eat all the food that I had vomited…
That was my life…I began to harden my temper…There was a rage slightly building inside me. Life was not fair. Life was a pain. I began to answer back and to argue. My tone was aggressive. The more they hit me, the harder I was. I began to laugh when they were screaming. I laughed harder when they beat me.
I was not nice with the other kids as well. I was a bad leader. I stole things from the fridge and hid them under the mattress. I threatened the small children who were living in the house. I forced them to do my chores when the Newtons were not in the house. I was becoming a bad child.
At school, I was not better. I began to play hooky. And when I was at school, I was looking for fights and enjoying the company of bullies. Weak kids were afraid of me and I was having fun making them suffer…I didn't give a damn about learning what the teachers taught. All I was looking for was trouble. Trouble inside the class…trouble outside the class. I was impolite and aggressive…My fun was to disrupt the class and to clown around. They suspended me…but I didn't care. Each time I was suspended, The Newtons beat me…but I didn't care either…At that time, I was a frail child…but my heart was so much seething with rage, that I could face any kids without fear. I didn't hesitate a second to provoke anyone who would try to confront me. I felt so powerful and so strong...As time flew by, nobody would try to fight against me. That was when I began dreaming of growing up fast…That was when I realized that my only wish was to become an adult, and to crush all the people who had hurt me in the past or would hurt me in the future.
The first time I ran away, I was ten years old…I ran away with a kid at school… Tyler was his name. I wandered in the woods for three days… We stole food from a convenience store and hid in a shack in the woods. The police finally caught us.
The Newtons didn't want me back…So the state sent me back to the orphanage…and I waited six months before a new foster home wanted to have me…
EDWARD
Flashback … (Edward…8 years old to thirteen years old)
I was so afraid…afraid all the time…and they were always waiting for me.
I used to love school. Now, I dreaded it.
I knew they were on the road; somewhere waiting for me.
I was not a strong child. I was even small for my age. I was the smallest kid in my class.
I used to be good at school. I was the best student with the highest marks.
Not now. My marks followed my mood. I couldn't concentrate at school. All I could concentrate on was that fear that was ravaging my insides.
Aro, James, Laurent and Sam were the cause of my fear. They were the ones who were making my life a living hell. They were my predators and I was their prey.
They knew I was afraid. And they enjoyed all the time, they made me suffer. They were bullies and I was their victim.
Every school day, it was the same. They were waiting for me…before class and after class. As soon as they would see me, they would come out of nowhere and surrounded me. They made fun of me; tripping me up when I was walking…laughing scornfully at my own expense and at my own weakness.
They would open my schoolbag and steal my pencils…or break them…
They would grab my books, spit on the pages or throw them in the mud and tear my homework in pieces.
They would open my lunch box and steal everything that was looking delicious.
And every day they would punch me, push me and call me names.
"Hey…Masen…hey…loser…"…imbecile…idiot…"
"Look at him…Is he going to cry??...Hey…Masen…Are you a gay? Faggot ...Do you want to suck my dick? ..."
"Hey…Wimp…Answer…When we talk to you."
"Leave me alone, please…" Why do you do that to me? ...Please, leave me alone…"
"Leave me alone…Oh! Oh! ...Mama's boy is going to cry…. "
If I tried to run away from them, it was worst. They were much faster than me. Then, it was more beating, more pushing and shoving.
I arrived at school, my pursuers following me closely. When we met someone, they acted as if we were the best friends in the world. And I knew I couldn't talk to anyone because they threatened to make my life harder if I opened my mouth.
One day, my dog came back home from the woodland that was behind our house…one of its leg broken…I was almost sure they were responsible…
Six months later, I found my dog... dead….I knew they were responsible of his death.
I knew it, because Sam had my dog's collar around his wrist the next morning…and he was laughing….
In school, it was not better. There were notes in my locker with insults written on it.
Every time, the teacher was not looking, I received bits of erasers or papers at the back of my head. They forced me to do their homework.
And I had no friends. Because the others students were afraid of them and Sam…the leader of the gang told the kids to not speak to me. I was afraid, secluded and alone.
I was never chosen in teams as well. The teacher always had to ask children to work with me.
I was not good at sports. So when we were in gym, I was completely inefficient. And that was another reason to make the bullies laugh at me.
They called me names and hit me whenever they had a chance to do so.
I didn't talk to anyone. I didn't talk to my parents either.
My mother Elizabeth knew there was something wrong. I began to have nightmares and my marks went down. I didn't want to go to school. Even if she tried to know what was going on, I refused to talk. And I began to invent false illnesses and excuses. School was boring, I didn't like the teacher, I had nauseas…I had a terrible headache…whatever excuses I could find to miss school, I spilled them out.
My parents went to school to meet the teacher and the principal. I was not cooperative at all. The teacher told them that I was not concentrated in class.
They took me to the psychologist…I refused to talk…
They took me to the doctor who told them there was nothing wrong with me. I was a bit under weight for my age but I was growing up…he told them that I would certainly gain weight soon.
I began to be aggressive and impolite at home…
I was now in grade 6…I was eleven years old…three years I've been enduring that hell…
And as the years passed, the bullies were harder on me…
More violent, more aggressive…verbally violent and physically violent…
They hit me harder…
They stole my watch…I told my parents, I lost it.
They broke my glasses… I told my parents that I dropped them on the sidewalk.
They wrote 'Faggot' on my coat…I threw it in the garbage and they never noticed.
Then one day, at the end of the school day, as I was shoving my books in my bag, I saw a dead rat in my schoolbag…a dead rat…and a note…a rat for a rat… a poisoned gift from my intimidators.
I lost my temper and began to scream and to hit the teacher who was trying to calm me down.
That was the last time I went to this school. That was the last time I saw Sam, Laurent, Aro and James. My parents sold the house and we left Forks…
But I knew deep in my heart that the damage was done. Nobody would hurt me…ever... It was my turn now…My life has been a hell…The other would live hell as well.
My parents moved out of the country. I was now living in Canada. I loved my new house and I was finally far away from my intimidators…They couldn't hurt me anymore.
My father had applied for a job at Mc Gill University which was located in Montreal. My mother wanted to take a break. As she was a well-known actress, she was not afraid of being forgotten and she already had received two scripts from Canadian producers.
I loved my new environment. I began to follow boxing lessons and self-defence classes. I went to the gym and my parents paid for a personal fitness trainer.
I hated school…not the school in itself…but I didn't give a damn about being attentive… It was boring and I was not interested…and I loved disturbing the classes…I laughed at the teachers and was suspended a lot of times…but I didn't fucking care.
In school, except for the classes… everything was okay…okay for me…but not so funny for others…My marks were good. I was able to learn by myself…I didn't have to listen to all the bullshit and the stuff the teachers were teaching us…Just looking in my books was enough me…
I was growing up…I was stronger…I was beautiful…I was self-confident…
When my parents decided to move…nobody knew me. I was a complete stranger…I've made a promise to myself…They would know who Edward Masen was…
The sooner…the better…
Time flew fast….I was now in secondary two…Two years had already passed…And I had friends…I was always looking for the bad guys…And the bad guys, I founded. Those were the kind of friends I needed in my life.
Not weak friends…No…I got acquainted with Jake… a tough guy…a drug dealer…and his friends were mine…tough, rough, bad and delinquents…He was the leader of a gang. Emmett, Jasper, Peter, Embry and Quil were in his gang as well…They were trouble makers…and that is what I was looking for…making trouble was my motto.
I was thirteen and Jake was sixteen…I was not afraid of anyone, anymore…
End of chapter 2
A/N: Thanks to my readers…As I told you this story is painful to write. I'll go in the present time as well as in the past time of both Edward's and Bella's life. Tell me what you think…
Leave me love and review…Love you France xxx