A/N: yo! i realize that this chapter might be somewhat boring. but trust me when i say it is absolutely necessary. bear with me, please; edward's return comes with the next chapter. c:

(try to) enjoy, you hotties.

-Strategicllamas

I couldn't sleep for weeks.

Vampires.

Charlie found me munching on a bag of dried apple skins in the kitchen when he got home from work. Thankfully, he didn't comment on my seating arrangement; or lack of, I mean. I was lying on the wood floor. I couldn't be bothered with getting up after I had tripped my way down there. The world was drunk.

Rosalie had made a promise to personally rip my limbs apart one by one if I told anyone. That would have been a major problem, if I had anyone to tell, anyways. Mike Newton? Charlie? I might as well just tell them I was straight up insane. Which wouldn't even be a lie.

Charlie picked up a pizza for himself and ate it in his chair alone. He didn't seem surprised to find me where I was, just exasperated. Maybe a little disappointed. I couldn't be sure; I was too busy scaring the thought of real life, actual vampires in Forks. At all hours of the day.

I lied awake in my bed, thinking about vampires. I lied asleep in my bed, dreaming about vampires. And then, finally, I went to school and saw vampires. Disguised as this isolated variety pack of beautiful teenagers. I remember feeling that strange connection with them on my first day, back when I was totally oblivious. Of course. I felt nice and dandy around the internally dead people. Maybe because I could sympathize.

When I returned to school the next day, my nerves weren't faring very good. I had researched vampires late into the night, but it was too broad a subject; I still had too many questions. How did they come out during the day? Why were they even here? And one that I would prefer be answered as soon as possible: was Edward Cullen coming back to school today? Because if he was, I had my whole escape plan routed and ready. I would bolt for the changing room showers and take refuge with the stoners, and then when the hour was up, I'd scream 'teacher's coming!' and watch them all disperse so that I could get ready for gym. That way, I could finish the day inconspicuously. It was just a miracle that gym was my last class of the day.

But when Mike Newton had so kindly touched me for what could have been the tenth time that day to lead me into Biology, Edward wasn't there. And I was relieved, but somehow on edge at the same time. Would he come back? Did I want him to come back?

"What happened yesterday, Bella? Have a quickie with Cullen in the janitor's closet?" Mike nudged my shoulder. My whole face lit up.

"Of course not!" I sputtered. "I...um, I got sick and threw up in the bathroom, and decided to skip the rest of the day," I lied pathetically. He raised his eyebrows. Oh Mike, if only you knew how much worse it was than that.

"Whatever, Bella. Oh! How was lunch this time?" he asked triumphantly. Mike had told me earlier in the day that he lectured his table on manners and table elegance. Lunchtime had turned into my new object of discomfort. It seemed when they weren't making intense small talk, they were going with 'please pass the salt' and 'my fair lady, may I propose a trade between our two very lavish sloppy joes?' Or else some were forcing themselves to ask the simple questions like 'who's your crush?' or 'did you watch any Supernatural last night?' And it all felt very forced. They wanted the juicy stuff or they wanted nothing.

"It was...better," I said. Mike pretended he believed me. I was grateful for it.

Over the next few weeks, I went through a slow, steady routine that was sure to kill me at some point. I reverted from having what felt like a mental breakdown every night in my room to drug induced nights of quiet. I spent the new nights curled up on the floor with a blanket by the window, thinking about all the mistakes I'd ever made and how the road reminded me of my wrists. And then I'd compare them by the dim light of the moon and single-lit light pole a few houses down. Somehow, even when taking a slight overdose of Tylenol, falling asleep was a challenge. I became loopy or I'd wake up in the middle of the night gasping 'vampires!' or something. I never remembered my dreams, but I knew they were always nightmares.

Then, I'd drag myself out of the house and drive the red truck that Charlie had given me to school. I would sit in my car and wait until the bell rang, for fear of Mike catching me somewhere and invariably making me hang out with his table group. I would get through the day, mostly in a haze, and around lunch time, I would sit at his especially large table and pretend to laugh at everyone's 'table manners,' which had become a sort of inside joke. (It wasn't a funny) Then, the Cullens, only the four of them, would come out of nowhere and they'd sit motionless at the table in the farthest corner. I always felt them watching me, but when I looked back, the only one with their eyes on me was Rosalie. Usually she'd smile timidly and wave, but only when no one was watching. I tried to find her and talk to her, but it seemed like every time I set out to do so, she picked it up and made an abrupt leave. It was infuriating.

Back at home with Charlie, everything was strained. I think he was too embarrassed to voice any more concern over me, since our car ride here on my first day. Besides that, he wasn't very fond of Renee. I'm sure he was upset when she died, but it couldn't have had the same effect on him as it did me. He didn't know how to console me, so he gave up. I wish I could relieve his efforts and come out and talk about everything, but talking about Renee made me feel physically ill. I decided the least I could do was keep my head off the kitchen floor before he got home and make him dinner every night. Besides, cooking became a rather fun aspect of my life here. Charlie would come home to pasta, smile a little, and take a plate to the living room. I'd sit at the table and wait for him to be finished so that I could clean his plate. When he got back and saw how I hadn't eaten anything, he'd shake his head but never voice any concern, to my relief. Then the routine would repeat itself, over and over; until I'd eventually give in to my hunger and find myself gorging on a bag of dried apple skins, or slapping a fish down onto a pan and grilling it over the burner. I practically lived off of apple skins and fish. It was an improvement from...from what it could have been, or what it used to be. And I was beginning to understand why.

The vampires.

Don't get me wrong, I knew they weren't exactly saints. And I knew they weren't improving my already awful sleep schedule. But I feel like...the fantasy of my situation was...rejuvenating. Like something was happening in my life, and for once, I was waking up every day to find out how it unfolded itself. Maybe I was insane. Or maybe my mind was beginning to see the full potential of every situation nowadays, since the fear of dying wasn't holding me back anymore. Whatever was keeping me going, I was enjoying it while it lasted. And it lasted its duration of one month.

That's when Edward Cullen began to wreak havoc on my life, when I walked unsuspectingly into Biology on a dizzy Monday afternoon.

tell me what you think? it inspires me to write more. c: