"It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby, now you do"

-Lana Del Rey, "Video Games"

BPOV

On October 1st I walked into Mr. Carlisle's room expecting another boring class with my favorite teacher. However the room I walked into was anything but the same boring class. On each desk was a small stack of papers. I picked up the packet on my desk and saw that this a packet of the romantic short stories we had to write. These stories belonged to Angela Webber, Jessica Stanley, Edward, and…me? Well, fuck me in the asshole and feed me my anatomy.

The bell rang and Mr. Carlisle stood up from his desk and walked to the front of the room. "Afternoon students. Today is the day! Yesterday you handed in your short stories. I read them and obviously made copies. I said I would pick the best stories and have the class read them. I couldn't pick just one, so I picked the top four. This way everyone will get a chance to display their work. We're going to take this entire class period to read the packet I gave you. Annotate it. Make some notes. Have fun. Begin."

Letter

By Angela Webber

Day 1

Dear Stewart, I write to you from my mind. It is the only way I know how to contact you seeing as how I don't know where you are or who you're with. Or maybe it's because I have finally cracked and went crazy. The latter seems the most accurate.

I haven't left the house in days. I can't eat, I can't sleep. I need you back. What we had wasn't only a teenage fling to me. We're married. We have a daughter. I can't raise her without you. Please come back. I'll do whatever you want. I'll even get rid of the baby. Just come back to me.

I love you.

Day 20

Dear Stewart, even though you're not here, your daughter and I have celebrated your birthday. I hope you had a good one. Turning twenty is a big step, are you sure you can handle it?

Your daughter is getting along fine. I wish she was able to take care of herself so I wouldn't have to get up every night to stop the incessant crying. I swear, she's just crying for you to come home. We both are. When will you be coming back? You've never been gone this long.

Nevertheless, I know you'll be back soon. You always come back.

I love you.

Day 62

Dear Stewart, where the hell are you? You are missing out on your daughter's life-my life! I need you now more than anything, and you're out screwing your little whores? Deborah's boyfriend said he saw you were gambling again. I thought I told you to stop it. You'll lose all of your money. Our child needs that money.

You need to come back now. I can't raise this brat on my own. She never stops crying. She always needs me. I wish I would have listened to you and gave her up when I had the chance. I would trade her for you. If I get rid of her, will you come back?

I love you.

Day 109

Dear Stewart, you bastard. How could you send me divorce papers? Why would you divorce me?

Well now that I know where you are I can finally give you a piece of my mind. You deserve all of the hell I want to give you. How could you leave me?

Day 116

Dear Stewart, oh no, I need you. I dropped the baby. I didn't mean to. She wouldn't stop crying. She just slipped. It wasn't my fault. I don't know what to do. If you were here, you'd know. Please, please come back. Please come back for me. If not for me, for her. She needs you too. We need you.

I love you so, so much.

Day 235

Dear Stewart, it's been 235 days since I first wrote you, and 240 days since you left us. You can have your divorce. I'm not going to wait for you anymore. This will be the last time you ever hear from me again. I'm going to move on. I want to be happy again. I think I deserve some happiness after being left by you and having to raise a child on my own. I hope you know what you could have had. I hope you know it will never come back.

I met a really nice man. He's good to me. He makes me feel special. I think this might actually work out this time. Wish me luck.

I don't love you anymore.

Kiss In the Rain

By Edward Masen

A resounding clap of thunder was heard above our heads, followed by a downpour of rain. My hair stuck to my face as I looked on at my boyfriend James. "Please," I whispered. My head felt faint. The tears fell just as hard and fast the rain around us.

"I don't want you anymore," James said through clenched teeth. "Let it go."

"I can't let you go!" I cried out. The thunder clapped again. I saw lightning in the far distance. The wind began to pick up. "Don't you know how much I love you?"

James turned and started to walk away. "I don't love you."

My heart stopped. "James!" I called out, my voice getting lost in the loud thunder. I began to run after him. Everything around me fell away. Nothing mattered except him. I felt a sharp pain in my back, stopping me in my tracks. I had been struck by lightning.

I fell to the ground soundlessly. Everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I saw myself laying on the ground. James was next to my dead body, crying and holding me. Memories that were not my own flashed before my eyes. They were from James' eyes. He heard the lighting strike, and when he looked back he saw me fall to the ground. It was too late. I was dead before I hit the ground. Upon seeing my lifeless body, he realized he loved me. Too little too late.

From the other side, I wondered could I have lived if we never got into that fight? Would I have lived if I never met James?

I was too hard on him sometimes. James was horrible at picking out gifts. For my birthday he bought me a T-shirt with the phrase "I love New York" on it. I've never been to New York. We're both too stubborn to admit when we're wrong. Little disagreements would turn into a week long fight. So many wasted days. So many shed tears. Maybe it would have been better if we were never together.

But then I thought back to our first beginning. Even then at the age of fourteen I knew he was the only one for me. He was awkward and shy, not knowing what to do with a girl. I reached out, touching his hand, and told him we'd figure it out together.

I remembered our first date. He took me out for ice cream. Afterwards we took a stroll down the beach. We sat down and watched the sunset. James looked at me, and said, "I love you, Tess" for the first time, his eyes glowing in the orange and red light from the sunset.

I remember dancing and laughing and crying with him. I remembered all the kisses, the hugs, the fights, the tears, the smiles, the friendship. And in that moment, I knew it was all worth it. I would do it all again.

I don't mind dying because I know I lived a good life, and he made all the difference.

Farewell

By Jessica Stanley

Hazel was dying.

Her father in a drunken fit of rage picked up a gun and shot her. A neighbor called the ambulance, but it was too late. Too much blood was lost for Hazel's life to be saved.

No one needed to tell her she was dying; she knew. She knew it long before she heard the ambulance sirens in the distance.

She waited for her boyfriend to show up.

He never did.

As she felt the life leaving my body, she thought about the last time she saw him. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon. Drake and Hazel decided to spend the day on the beach. "Will you dance with me?" he asked, holding out his hand for her to take. Smiling, she eagerly took his hand. She put both of her hands on his shoulders while his found their spot on her hips. They swayed gently with the wind before he spoke. "I feel awful about making you miss prom."

"It's no big deal," she said. Drake had too many truancies to go to prom the week before. Hazel refused to go without him. Instead he took her out to dinner.

Drake smiled at her. "I still feel bad we never danced together."

"We're doing it now." Drake released his grip on her waist and took hold of her hands. He spun her, dipped her, the whole nine yards. They didn't care that there was no music playing, that they were on a beach, or that people were staring. It was just them.

In the present time Hazel's lungs began to take in less and less air. Her heart beat was almost nonexistent. Taking advantage of her dying state, she said her last words, "Farewell Drake." The last thing she heard was the monitor beside her go flat.

The next morning Hazels nurse read in the paper about a boy who died in a car accident. He died on impact. No one knows where this boy was going.

But Hazel knew. Because that boy's name was Drake, and he was on his way to see her. Drake's last words were, "Farewell, Hazel."

His Heaven

By Bella Swan

My ex-fiancé was a real grade A jackass. The bastard kicked me to the curb when someone younger and prettier came along. I gave that man the best six years of my life. What's worse is that I still love him.

He told me he wanted me to be a stay at home mom. I loved him and trusted him, so I didn't argue. I thought he would support me. I was a damn fool because when he left me, I had no money, I had nowhere to go. I left my friends and family for him. I didn't have a job. I didn't have any saved money.

I was screwed.

I became a stripper to make fast money and make ends meet. It paid off sometimes; I made good money. But most of the time I couldn't stomach to look at myself in the mirror. All I saw was a stranger's bloodshot eyes staring back at me. I got no sleep. I lived in the seventh circle of hell. I couldn't afford to eat. I had to toughen up real fast. Soon I looked forward to going to work. It was the only place with heat and sometimes good food. My life was going nowhere.

One night I missed the bus. I lived too far away to walk home, and I didn't have a phone to call for help. Besides, who would I call? My ex? No way in hell. A strange man in a clown suit offered to give me a ride. Against my better judgment, I accepted the ride, grateful I wouldn't have to walk five miles in the dead of winter after being on my feet all night.

When I asked about the clown suit, he told me he just got off of work too. He worked as a clown for children's parties. Shrugging the uneasiness off, I accepted his answer as truth.

It wasn't until we made it to the highway that he pulled over. That asshole raped me, beat me until I could feel my brain rattle in my head, and took my last shred of dignity. He cut off my fingers as a souvenir. Then he threw my naked and dying body into a ditch. Tonight would be the coldest night of the year.

In my last moments, I thought about my ex-fiancé. I thought about what he might be doing right now, I wondered if he was happy, and I wondered if he missed me. I sure missed him. He was a dick, but I loved that son of a bitch with all my heart. As I took my last breath, I thought about His heaven, and how His heaven doesn't include me.

. . .

After reading the packet, I looked around the room. The girls were either happily sighing at certain parts in Jessica or Edward's stories or were crying when a character died and true love was ripped apart. I looked at Edward, who was intently reading my story. I looked at Jasper who refused to look at me. I looked at Mr. Carlisle. Mr. Carlisle was sitting at his desk, looking directly at me. I raised my eyebrow in questioning. Mr. Carlisle simply smiled and nodded his head.

I looked back down at my paper, suddenly hearing Mr. Carlisle's words echo in my head. "Writers write what they know…" All of these short stories had death and heart break. Was Angela the little girl in her story? Did that happen to her mom? Has Edward ever wondered if liking me was worth it, only to decide that he wouldn't change any of it? Did Jessica know what it was like to wait for her true love, only to be disappointed in the end?

If writers write what they know, then what do I know? My story was a bitch to write. I couldn't seem to put pen to paper. Until I decided to let it all go. I let my sarcasm and my own pain left from mom lead me. Maybe that's what I know. Pain. The pain that my unnamed character felt after her ex-fiancé left is similar to how I felt when my mom died. I had to toughen up fast. I had to start from the bottom and crawl my way back up. Then I realized just how bitter I am towards my mom planning to leave Charlie and I. My mom is in heaven right now having a blast. She's finally free. I want to be with the mom I thought she was, but I guess I don't belong in Her Heaven.