Author's Note: Big love to jkane180 and mac214 for the beta, and also to DoUTrustMe and cryptthing for pre-reading. This chapter is a little dark.
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I pressed my fingers into the underside of my desk and chewed so hard on my lower lip I drew blood. My phone was at home. My skin was crawling. This wasn't good.
I could deal with losing, well, everything, but I no longer remembered why a moratorium on wireless devices seemed like a good idea. What was I thinking?
The clock on the wall ceased keeping time; meanwhile, the gerbil on the exercise wheel in my mind stopped its fruitless running and glared at me accusingly.
To protect yourself and others from your sociopathic Facebook updates, the little fuzzy mind-rodent reminded me.
What do you know? You're just a rat-thingy. You eat your young and poop where you drink. Except now I was totally arguing with a figment of my imagination.
Also, said figment had better common sense than me.
Also, also, my conscience was a gerbil. That was just stupid.
I needed a fix. I needed to be jacked back into The Matrix.
"Bella?"
"What?" I answered automatically. Shit, it was a teacher speaking to me. "I mean, um, pardon me?"
"I was asking about your lit project. Have you chosen a book yet?"
"No," I snapped. "All of my choices seem to be on the burn-a-book list."
"Well, maybe if you'd open yourself up to some less controversial material," she said, probably trying to sound helpful but coming across as snarky.
"Fine. Choose something for me. I don't care." It occurred to me it honestly didn't matter. Why was I bothering with this shit? So long as she didn't make me read Austen or Dickens, I didn't care.
"Pride and Prejudice."
"Fuck, no!" I protested, and the class erupted into manic-sounding laughter.
Me and my dirty fucking mouth.
I ran out of class to find Jasper waiting for me outside, but I suspected he was just trying to make Alice jealous. It fucking worked. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head when she saw him drape his arm casually over my shoulder. It felt good there. I closed my eyes and leaned into him.
"Whoa," he said, bracing his leg to support my body as I all but melted into him. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah. I just totally feel like singing "Lean on Me" all the sudden."
"I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on." He smiled, and his entire face lit up.
"Well, aren't you fucking clever." What I meant to say was, "Why are you following me around?"
"I'm not. I mean, well, yeah, I sort of am. I wanted to talk to you about my sister." He looked nervous. "Not now though."
"Um, okay. Why not?" I followed his eyes to his evil miniature ex-girlfriend.
"Slumming much?" Alice's laughed, the sound of it effectively silencing us both. "Bella's not the only one picking up trash in the gutter," she said to Lauren. Her voice had a manic quality to it; the timbre was brittle and sharp all at once. She was glass. I wanted to tell her she was glass, but she wouldn't understand me. Actually, I really wanted to push her over and watch her shatter like a figurine.
Only Jake understood my broken poetry-speak. But Jake was a funeral pyre.
"There's no need to act like a cunt," Jasper snapped. Wow. I didn't know he used such ugly language. It was hot, and I toyed with the idea of making him my bitch, but one revenge blow job was kind of my limit for the week.
-({})-
Solace was what I craved. I grabbed my lunch and took it outside to the nearly-deserted quad. It was a dank day - the kind of weather that only appealed to the morbidly depressed. Fucking apt, I thought, pulling my peanut butter sandwich from my bag. I wasn't hungry. It was only a prop I held as I sat and looked longingly at Division Street, wishing I was in one of the passing cars, that I was anywhere but right here.
A motorcycle pulled up to the curb, and I gawked appreciatively at the leather-clad form that dismounted. He looked like Robocop - all shiny and dark and dangerous.
Except then he removed his helmet and hooked it onto the side of the seat, smoothing his hands over his newly shorn head.
One word tore out of me upon recognition of said head. "Traitor!"
It was a war-cry.
He knew he was under attack. He raised his hands in surrender, keeping them in the air as he took a step onto the curb.
"Fuck you!" I screamed and launched myself at him, tripping several times as I closed the distance between my bench and the curb. "Fuck you!"
I repeated it over and over again like a perverse mantra that, instead of calming me, fed my rage. I balled my hands into fists when I reached him, punching his chest, striking at every inch of muscle and flesh I could reach. "Fuck you," I repeated, opening my hands so I could slap him full on the face. The sound of my hand striking his skin barely echoed over my screams. He didn't try to ward me off. He kept his head bowed and suffered my pathetic blows, allowing me to hit him without complaint.
Damn it! Why didn't he fight back? There was no glory, no satisfaction, no justification, no revenge in this. I needed more! So I hit him harder each time and howled along with every blow. My broken heart raced as it stubbornly forced blood and adrenaline through my veins.
"Bells," he pleaded finally. "You're going to break your hand."
"Fuck you," I cursed lamely, my voice hoarse from screaming.
"Please? Let me talk to you for a minute."
"I'm going to burn your bike if you don't leave right now." It hurt too much, standing this close to him. It hurt to look at him. He was now the personification of my agony. It wasn't just that he didn't want me the way I wanted him. It was the betrayal. The asshole put me in a position that made it impossible to forgive him.
He was lost to me, and in losing him, I also relinquished the only solace I'd ever known.
The silence. I'd miss the silence so much - the way he could stop the terrible images from taking over my mind. I was raped by my own dark poetry on a daily basis, and no one but Jacob knew had to make it stop. Now I'd hit rock bottom. I was flat on my back in a deep well of despair, staring up at an endless night.
Overwhelmed by grief, I inadvertently started rambling.
"You pushed me down deeper into a grave of my own making, and I can't claw my way back. I'm stuck."
I'd never felt pain before like this.
Jake shook his head. "You don't understand... let me explain, and then I'll go away."
"There's nothing to explain. You were my lifeline, and now I'm interred in my own grief."
"You're not stuck, Bells. I'll help you out, I swear." It killed me that he understood my garbled metaphors. "I won't let you be stuck in the dark... no matter what."
"Ha! Throw me a rope, Jake, and I'll hang myself with it."
"Bells," Jake said, trying to pull me against him, but I bit his arm and he let go of me. "It's not what you think. I need to tell you what-"
"I'm not stupid," I hissed. "I know what you're going to tell me, and it's lame."
"You don't."
"Alright, Jake." I crossed my arms over my chest and allowed a bitter calm to come over me, slowing my rage. "Tell me about the imprint. Tell me about how you're a hypocrite just like your father. Leave me for this girl, and let me die."
Jake kicked his bike over. I'd gone too far, alluding to his mother.
"I came to tell you nothing happened with Leah," he said stiffly, his voice breaking. A bleak wave of emotion seemed to wash over him. I manged to pull him down to my level like a hell-bound undertow; the anguish was written all over his face.
"Clearly something happened." I hated him. I hated him so much for ruining this for me. I needed my revenge. How could I feel justified in his degradation when it hurt so fucking much to see him in pain?
"It didn't. I- well, I wanted something to happen, but I can fight this imprint thing, Bells. I swear. I'll stay away from her."
I wasn't expecting that. "What?" I asked dumbly. "What? But she's like your destiny or whatever. You can't just ignore her."
"Yeah, I can. All I have to do is stay away from her. I've already dropped out of this semester of school, and I'll transfer to Forks for the winter term." He smiled and wiped a tear out of my eye with his glove. "I'm so sorry, honey."
I looked at him incredulously. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" Why did he have to do this to me? This was kind of worse than him just being a horn-dog asshole. How was a psycho girl like me supposed to react to such chivalry?
"C'mon, Bells. I love you. I want to be with you."
"I'm fucking someone else now, Jake," I said quickly before I could stop myself. "So it doesn't matter." I took a step away from him and pulled my book bag over my shoulder. "Look... I'm really sorry about your car." A sob threatened to escape my throat. I swallowed thickly to stop it. "I'm just really mad and stuff... but I don't love you. Not like that."
"Just... stop lying. I know you're full of shit."
"No. I don't want you. I just want my revenge."
He kicked the side of his fallen bike and let loose a frustrated growl. "Do you have any idea what I'm giving up for you?" he raged.
"I don't want it. I don't want you."
"Don't do this..."
"Jake, if you really love me like you say you do, then leave me the fuck alone. Don't call me; don't email me. I never want to hear from you ever again. Do you understand?"
"You don't mean that," he hissed. "I'll leave, but I'm not giving up."
He would. I'd make sure of it.
-({})-
So, yeah. Totally not going to class after that. There needed to be some sort of melodrama pass for high school kids, like a hall pass or something. Too much sweat and hormones confined to one building made us all lust and rage-filled.
I was still in the quad where Jake left me. Time stood still, but hours had passed, and I was lying on the wet grass, scribbling poetry into my notepad.
The dim sky had brightened over the course of the afternoon, which just pissed me the fuck off because I hated when the weather didn't match my mood. I closed my eyes, still seeing red.
"Bella?"
"Present," I muttered, wiping the tears off my face with the sleeve of my shirt. I squinted, becoming momentarily blinded by Edward's hair. It was afire with the midday sun blaring through the coppery strands.
"You weren't in biology," he began tentatively.
"You're fucking Lauren," I replied.
"Um... not at the moment. How is that relevant?"
"I dunno. I thought we were both stating obvious facts. It doesn't matter though." I rolled onto my side and went fetal. "It's just that I can't imagine fucking random skanks is good for your recovery."
He sighed and sank into the grass beside me. "She's not a skank... but yeah, I'm not supposed to have sex."
"So don't. Just suck it up and do what you're supposed to do."
"Um, hello, pot? It's me, kettle."
"Oh, dude, I know I have problems. Why does it matter that I'm being hypocritical? It's still good advice. Keep your dick in your pants." Of course, now I was thinking about his dick and also wondering if his pubic hair was the same shade as the hair on his head. Would it be unruly too?
"What are you thinking about?" he asked suddenly.
"Sex hair." Wait, did he know that was my nickname for him? Actually, now it was my secret name for his pubes. Why was I thinking about his pubes?
"I want to show you something."
"Neat," I said. "If it's your cock, I'm not interested." I was totally lying.
"It's not my cock. Come with me... and don't say without foreplay."
"Okay. Want to jerk off together then?" I cocked my eyebrow, and he groaned.
"You're going to be the death of me, pretty girl." He offered me his hand, and I took it.
"I'll come with you, but you should probably know I'm feeling very self-destructive at the moment. I can't promise you I'll behave."
"Will you show me what you wrote?" He was evading me. Good for him.
"I don't think my bad poetry will be good for your recovery."
"Humour me."
So I handed him my notepad, and he had the decency not to read aloud.
But what if I could scream until I bleed,
To block out your words?
Don't cry into my open wounds;
Your salt burns inside of me,
And my knees are rubbed raw
From crawling.
He was silent for a minute. I snatched my paper back and considered touching my breasts out of sheer desperation to diffuse the situation. What had possessed me to share my writing, my very raw and ugly poetry, with him?
"Want me to beat him up for you?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Nah, I already took care of it."
"He didn't deserve you."
I laughed hysterically at that. "He certainly didn't."
Jake deserved better.
Like a child, I wiped the tears out of my eyes again with the sleeve of my shirt and allowed Edward to lead me to his car. I was throwing myself at his mercy.
A/N - My update schedule seems to be one a week for Stigmata Tomato and Don't Fear the Reaper (collab with the "Bob" to my "Doug" Mackenzie, DoUTrustMe). Reviews make my pocket vibrate, and make Flanny a happy girl!
Fic Rec: The Cullen Campaign, listed in my faves. So hot and funny and smart. I love a footnoted lemon.
Question: I joke about being Canadian all the time. What's the first thing you think of when you think of Canada?
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