Disclaimer: Characters and setting owned by SM. Some plot ideas may come from another source...but don't give it away ;)
March, 2012
~6~
Forging a death certificate really isn't that difficult. Using a few simple computer programs, I am able to create one that the bank won't look too closely at.
Renee Alicia Swan.
Date of birth: April 18, 1969.
Date of death: June 22, 2010.
Cause of death: Car accident.
Might as well be something generic.
~SW~
The woman at the desk gives me a polite smile.
"My mother died two years ago," I supply. "Only yesterday did I find this."
Displaying the key and the forged certificate to the woman, she gives a nod and leads me through a door to her left.
I walk into the room. Walls are lined with small metal cubbies; a large wood table sits in the center of the room, two chairs pushed underneath. The woman quietly exits the room and I use my key to open box 132.
Inside, seven glossy photographs fall out.
They are pictures of me.
The day these photos were taken I can remember well. It was rainy, like most days in Forks, and I was wearing a sweater that I never, ever wore. But clean clothing was scarce, as laundry was only done when all the hampers reached their capacities.
It was also the first day Edward told me he loved me. We have been dating for over a year, but with only being fifteen when we started, it felt silly and immature to make such confessions so young. On this particular day, I was feeling like the typical self-conscious sixteen-year-old that I was. The sweater was brown and lumpy. My face was pale. I felt dreary and washed out from the rain.
But Edward, being the sweetheart he was, told me I was beautiful. That the shapeless sweater only made him more desperate to see my body, my curves.
We had been attempting to be responsible and take the physical side of our relationship slow. I had never had an orgasm before so it's not like I knew what I was missing. However, I could feel at times how problematic it was for Edward. But his restraint and commitment to me, despite my hesitancies and fears, was what solidified my trust in him the most.
The photographs were taken while Edward and I were sitting at a table outside the only café Forks has to offer, hidden from the rain by a large umbrella.
His green eyes lock onto my brown. Every pore of my being is drawn to him. Even sitting across the small bistro table feels too far.
"Bella," he starts, sounding nervous.
"Hmm" I reply, my attention focused on his wayward hair, the way it gently blows in the breeze…
"Well, I just, Bella…Bella, I love you."
My brown eyes shoot up to his.
The photographs, depicting such a warm memory, are anything but.
On each photograph, a red target is placed over my smiling face.