I apologize for not updating in awhile, but I received a rather hurtful review-even if it was directed at my writing, and not myself. To the person who left that review-I'm sure if you reread the last chapter, you will see Bella's reasoning. Would you like to live like that for the rest of your life? And please, no swearing in the reviews unless it is ecstatic swearing.
I recently got a perfect score on a test that was very important to me(Have you guys ever heard of NYSSMA?), and it inspired me to write again along with the fact that I was letting you guys down. I apologize for the bad timing of my depression.
Please review, and tell me what you think of my first chapter since my(this is painfully embarrassing, to be admitting this)hiatus. ***ALSO, I need to pick your brains for a moment. Should Damien be different this time? As in, should he try to be romantic with Bella just because he knows she hates it? Or should he just do what I'm specifically planning?***
We hit 300 reviews. Thank you :)
Disclaimer: My parents say that when I'm famous(either as a writer or a singer) I have to send them money so they can buy pretty cars. Too bad I will most likely never be a writer like Stephenie over here, who makes plenty of money from Twilight.
Although the interior of the car was dim, I could just make out Damien's face. His nose was slightly upturned, and there were already bruises forming around his eyes. I definitely gave him a broken nose.
I would probably regret that later.
"What is so important about me, Damien? That you needed to escape from jail, and abduct me? That you needed to do anything at all? How did this start? I can't imagine your wife would have married you, if you had beat her in the first place." I asked, hoping vainly that he was one of those people who explained their whole master plan once they captured the damsel in distress.
His eyes softened for a moment, as if he was remembering a better time. Then, just as suddenly, his gaze turned back into the stone-cold glare I was used to.
"Why do I have to have a reason?" he said, smiling mockingly.
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to tell me, just like I knew he wanted to.
He sighed, his eyes becoming soft once more. "Dolly. She was the kindest, most caring person I ever met. She didn't care about my imperfections." He looked up at me for a moment, then back down to the floor. I wondered what was so interesting about his shoes. "I wasn't always like this, you know."
I sat there for a moment, stunned and unmoving. He was actually opening up to me. Of all the people...
"I proposed to her on our one-year anniversary. I took her to the place we met. We were married exactly six moths later, to the day." He continued. "We both wanted children-but later, we found out it would be almost impossible for her to get pregnant, let alone keep the child for nine months. But we still tried."
He kept his gaze at his feet, his voice becoming harder with each word.
"Then, we found out she was pregnant. She was fine for the first few months, but one night, we both woke up to find she had had a miscarriage."
There were tears at the corners of his eyes now, and he seemed to be reliving the memory in his head.
"I blamed myself. If I had just said-"
Tears were streaming down his face now. I almost reached out to comfort him, despite everything he had done to me, when suddenly, he looked up, glaring at me. I shrank as far away from him as my seat would allow.
"I was angry at everybody. At Dolly, for not saying anything. At people we would see walking down the street with their children, because they had something Dolly and I could never have. At the children themselves, because they were what Dolly and I couldn't have."
I met his gaze evenly, having returned to my former position on the seat. We stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of us blinking, both of us unwilling to break the silence before the other.
"And now you. Would it hurt for just one other person to feel the pain Dolly and I felt?"
Yes. A lot, I thought, wincing.
"And that's where you come in," he said, his malicious smile back in place. "Do you know how I feel yet? Or do you think we need a little more time together?"
"I think I need a vacation."