Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just play with them. This story is rated M, and is not suitable for younger readers. Story contains violence, coarse language and sexual "situations". Please do not read if any of these things offends you.

Note: [ Beta'ed by: Project Team Beta ]

Chapter 4 - Tuesday

Edward Cullen POV - Three days before the accident.

Fucking Tuesdays. I hated Tuesdays. Has anything good ever happened on a Tuesday? No, it has not. Tuesday was nothing but a wasted day. Fuck.

I groaned as I rolled out of bed. My body was stiff, my head was pounding, and I felt fucking useless. I stepped into my bathroom and switched on the light. My eyes immediately protested and I squinted at the harsh light.

When my eyes finally adjusted to the light I was met by the sight of my sorry looking mug.

God, I look like crap.

My hair was standing in every direction and my eyes were bloodshot. Then again, I guess they had every right to be.

Jasper had come over the night before, and Emmett had challenged us to a shot race. Yes, on a fucking Monday. My brother was a genius that way.

His choice of poison was Absolut Vodka Vanilla. A fucking girl-vodka if you ask me, and a fucking puke-explosion waiting to happen. I had nothing against vodka in general, I chugged that shit down like water, but flavored vodka was another story. Sadly, it was the only shit Emmett had available. I just had to toughen up and take it like a man, even if I ended up puking like a dog afterwards and waking up with a head that was ten sizes too big.

Fuck Emmett and his stupid ideas.

I turned on the shower and tugged down my boxers before stepping under the hot spray. The warm water loosened up my muscles instantly, and I leaned my forehead against the cold, tiled wall. I closed my eyes and rolled my shoulders to release some tension.

There was nothing I wanted to do more than to just go back to bed, and forget that Tuesdays even existed. I did not have that luxury, since my mom worked from home and would notice if I stayed. I couldn't fake an illness either since my fucking father was a doctor. Although I was a fucking awesome actor – just ask all the girls I've slept with – I still couldn't fool my dad by acting like I was sick, because that man could read me like a boring fucking book.

I almost fell asleep in the shower, the warm water almost relaxing me to the point of unconsciousness, and I didn't awake from my trance until I felt the warm water run cold. I left the shower with a sigh and pulled a towel around my waist, before walking back into my room.

My mom had done my laundry the day before, for which I was glad, because I wasn't in the mood for going commando. Although, it would make the visits in the janitor's closet easier, just yank down the zipper and pull out the snake.

I shook my head at myself. Underwear it is.

I pulled on the first pair of jeans and shirt I found and didn't even bother to do anything with my hair. Then I walked downstairs to the kitchen.

Emmett was sitting by the kitchen island. My mom had brought out everything you could ever think of wanting for breakfast and I inwardly rolled my eyes. No one in my family, except my mom, was a breakfast person. This fact didn't hinder her though, as she kept pushing as much food as she could down our throats, to the point were we almost fell into a fucking breakfast-induced coma. Therefore it was not my fucking fault if I fell asleep during first or second period. I doubt my teachers would believe my excuse when I said that my mom had stuffed me like a Thanksgiving turkey before school. Too much food makes you sleepy, that's a known fucking fact.

"Morning bro," Emmett said, as I sat down on the stool beside him.

"Morning yourself," I muttered and poured myself some orange juice.

"Hangover?" he asked.

"Fucking vanilla," I replied.

He began to chuckle, but cut short as he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hangover?" I mocked, he groaned and flipped me off.

I smirked at him. It made me feel a hell of a lot better to know that he was just as hung over as I was, since it was his fucking idea. It was also nice to know that even a big guy like Emmett could be affected. At that moment, dad walked in with his usual stride, being the epitome of a morning-person that he always was. He was all smiles and cheery as he walked around the kitchen island and poured himself some coffee.

"Morning boys," he said cheerily, "Rough night?"

He took a sip of his coffee and looked at us from over the rim.

Our dad might call himself a serious doctor and he might be a worthless fucking driver, but at home he was a pretty laid back dad. He knew we drank and he knew we had both done drugs – I still did, occasionally – but he didn't condemn our behavior, he just asked us to take care of ourselves, and not to go too far. His laid back attitude made it impossible for us to do any damage by rebelling, like a normal fucking teenager. And yes, that bugged me. It would be nice to be able to do something fucking reckless just for the hell of it, and piss them off.

Yeah, Mom was a little stricter than Dad, but she would never yell at us. She didn't even yell at me when I came home one night high as a fucking kite with cocaine still in my nostril. She knew what I had been doing, she told me she didn't like it and then she told me to go to bed. All the while just shaking her head, no fucking yelling whatsoever. I had wondered many times in the past if they were even fucking sane. Parents shouldn't behave like that.

Maybe they didn't get the handbook on how to torture their teenage kids.

I thought that shit was fucking mandatory.

Dad glanced down at his watch and put down his cup on the counter.

"Okay, I'm off. Please behave today," he said and turned to look at me, "And that means you too, Edward."

"I always behave. Badly, yes, but it's still a fucking behavior," I replied with a light shrug.

Dad shook his head and sighed, before leaving the room.

"Wanna skip school?" I asked, glancing at Emmett.

"Nah, I promised Rosie I would take her car shopping today," he replied, brightening up instantly by the mere thought of his blonde bombshell of a girlfriend.

"You're fucking whipped," I complained with a sigh.

"Have you seen her ass? Of course I'm whipped," he snorted and leaned back on his stool, "Ready to go?"

"Might as well get this shit day over and done with," I agreed and stepped down from the stool. Emmett walked out to get his stuff, and I grabbed my thermos from the dish rack and filled it with coffee.

I needed my caffeine. Especially since today was Tuesday.

Fuck. I hate Tuesdays.

I parked my car in the Principal's space again. Emmett rolled his eyes at me, though he kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to question me when it came to my car. Emmett disappeared as soon as he left the car. I couldn't have cared less about it. He was probably just in withdrawal and he needed his Rosalie-fix. The way he was attached to that girl was fucking disturbing. He couldn't make a fucking decision without asking her first. He had even called her the day before to ask if it was okay if he got drunk with Jasper and me. Whipped wasn't a strong enough word to describe what he was. He was a fucking pansy. It was like she had grabbed his balls and taken them for herself, and given him her pussy in return. She was the one with the balls in that relationship. No fucking question about it. If there was one thing Rosalie Hale didn't need more of, it would be power. I was glad I managed to dodge that fucking bullet.

I would never be whipped. That's for sure. Because the difference between my brother and I was that I had a fucking backbone and balls that wouldn't quit. He did not.

I walked down the hallway and got my usual ego-boost. I winked at a few girls, they blushed and looked away, before giggling with their friends. God, girls in this school were so fucking easy. I picked up my stuff from my locker and headed to class.

Despite the big thermos of caffeine I still ended up falling asleep during both first and second period. With this fucking hangover I needed some fucking sleep, and what better time was there than during school hours?

Lunch was uneventful. No one was choking today. Alice and Rosalie excused themselves to go to "powder their noses" - a fucking girly way of saying "taking a leak" or "talking about our awesome boyfriends until we puke". Or until I puke. At least they didn't talk about that shit when I was around.

Jasper yawned, and stretched his arms behind his head. He didn't look hung over at all, he just looked… well, like fucking Jasper. He smirked at me.

"Don't glare at me like that," he laughed.

I didn't even realize I was glaring, so I rolled my eyes instead and took another chug of my now cold coffee.

"You guys are fucking weak," he smiled, "Can't take a few shots without looking like you're dying the day after…"

"Fuck you," I muttered, "You should keep your fucking mouth shut… remember last time you drank Jägermeister?"

I gave him a pointed look, but he just kept on smiling, with his hands behind his head.

"If I remember correctly I had a fever of a hundred and four during that party, because Alice wouldn't let me miss it, so I don't think it was the Jägermeister that got to me," he replied coolly.

"Fucking excuses," I muttered.

"So I hear Mike Newton is having a party on Friday, are we going?" Emmett asked.

"Have you asked your wife?" I asked sarcastically.

"She asked me, thank you very much," he replied, "But yeah, are going or what?"

I groaned, and rested my elbows on the table before pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.

"Newton is a fucking moron, he couldn't throw a good party if his fucking life depended on it," I muttered.

"Whatever, man, I hear it's going to be good. Everyone is going to be there… what else are we supposed to do anyway? It's not like anything else is happening, this is fucking Forks!" Emmett complained.

I let my hands down and stood up.

"I need to be wasted, and on the point of passing out before I ever step my foot into that imbecile's house," I said before walking away.

"C'mon, bro! Live a little!" Emmett called after me.

I rolled my eyes, as I pushed open the cafeteria door.

'Newton' and 'party' were two words that did not belong together. Mike Newton was a sorry excuse for a man, who ran after girls like a fucking rabid dog. He's still a virgin, I'm sure, I can't believe any girl with even an ounce of fucking self-respect would ever let him touch them. He's a disturbed little guy, a pathetic one too. He's always trying to get on my, Emmett and Jasper's good side. Occasionally he even tries to sit with us at lunch. I wonder how fucking long it will take him to get the fucking hint. Nobody likes you, ass face!

Sadly, Emmett had a point when he said that the party was the only thing happening this weekend. Nothing ever happens in Forks, because there is just nowhere to go to make things happen. Fucking worthless piece of shit town. But I'd be damned if I had to go to that fucking party.

The warning bell rang and I slipped into the guys' bathroom. I was so not in the mood for biology, so I decided to hang out in the bathroom until everyone was in class, and I could go about roaming the halls without anyone being the wiser.

I smoked a cigarette in the bathroom, before throwing it in a toilet and leaving. The halls were empty – no surprise there. Sometimes I wondered if I was the only person in this fucking place that even dared to skip class. People in this place were to fucking afraid of being caught. Like skipping class and being caught was the equivalent to the death sentence.

Suddenly someone rammed right into me. I got the wind knocked out of me, and the perpetrator landed on her ass with a loud thud.

"FUCK!" I cursed loudly as I stared down at her.

I immediately recognized her. Fucking Isabella Swan, a walking fucking time bomb. Couldn't she do anything right? Couldn't she even walk down a hallway without ramming into the only other person there? She obviously was the kind of person who would ram into the only tree in a fucking desert.

"Are you fucking blind or some shit? Watch where you're walking!" I spat at her furiously.

I expected to see her lips tremble and her eyes water up. I bet girls like Isabella fucking Swan cried all the time. She seemed to be that type, you know? The one who cries for nothing. She probably cries when she sees a puppy too, or when she gets something lower than an A on a test.

She surprised me by narrowing her eyes at me and she jutted her chin out in defiance, as she hugged her books tightly to her chest.

"Shouldn't you be in class and not roaming the halls?" she snapped.

I was slightly taken aback by her tone, to be honest. Who knew Isabella Swan had it in her? Besides, didn't it occur to her that she too was roaming the halls during class? I knew for a fact that she didn't have study hall or any of that shit right now, since she was in my biology class.

I couldn't help but smirk at her comment.

"I could ask you the same fucking thing," I replied coolly.

My chest hurt where she had rammed her steel head into me, and I rubbed the spot on my chest absentmindedly. I saw that her eyes wandered down, and I resisted the urge to smirk again. Did I make an impact on the poor little virginal freak girl?

"I was at the Principal's office," she replied in her defense, as she stood up.

I smirked and had to hold back a laugh. Isabella Swan in the principal's office? What a fucking joke.

"And what could an innocent duck like you ever have to do in the principal's office? Were you gonna press charges against the sandwich that tried to kill you yesterday?"

I used the nickname the school had given her. Everybody called her "duck", "ugly duckling", "goose" or any other bird, really. All because she didn't live up to her last name. Isabella Swan was many things, but a swan was not one of them. Maybe a turkey… nah, she was too skinny to be a turkey. Maybe a penguin? They walked funny too, and Isabella seemed to have issues with walking over a flat surface without tripping over air. But as far as I know, penguins didn't have that problem. They just walked funny.

"No, he wanted to ask if I had anything to do with why a certain Volvo, that's parked in his space, had a crashed windshield and a dent with the size of a crater on its hood," she replied sweetly.

I was about to make a snarky comeback when her words sank in. My smirk faded quickly. If she was fucking serious then she was about to be as dead as a Thanksgiving turkey.

The look in her eyes showed that she was clearly very pleased with her comment, and I guess she wasn't totally unaware of the love I had for my car – or maybe she was just bluffing.

"You… you!" I said, my voice shaking in anger, "If my car is even remotely damaged when I'm leaving today, then I'm gonna hold you responsible!"

She rolled her fucking eyes at me, before pushing passed me without even a response. Did she even know who I was? I could destroy her. I had all the girls in this school wrapped around my finger, and I could make her life even more shitty than it probably already was.

"I'll fucking kill you!" I called after her angrily.

"Please do!" she called back, without turning around.

I gaped at her as she walked away. What the hell was that? Since when did Isabella fucking Swan talk back to anyone? She's supposed to take the shit and make the rest of us feel good, but instead she had to talk back on the one day I really didn't need it?

I'll be damned if I let her make me feel bad about it. Fucking goose.

I slammed my door and quickly walked up the steps to our house. I opened the front door and stepped inside. If I was lucky, the house would be empty, and if I was…

"Sweetie, there you are!"

I groaned as I let the door close behind me. I was met by my smiling mother. Her brown hair was hanging loosely around her heart-shaped face and her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"What are you doing home?" I groaned.

"That's no way of talking to your mother," she chastised me with a smile, "I just got assigned a very exciting decorating job and I really would like your opinion."

"Since when do you want my opinion on your shit? I don't know the first thing about interior whatever," I replied with a quirked eyebrow.

"First of all, my designs are not shit," she said sternly before smiling at me, "and secondly, I'm actually designing the interior of the new concert hall for the Seattle music society, and since you are my go-to guy when it comes to classical music, then of course, I want your opinion. Come on."

She nodded her head towards her downstairs office, silently signaling for me to follow her. I sighed and dragged my feet as I followed her. Her working table was overflowing with designs of everything and nothing. She walked around the table, picked up a large sheet of paper and showed it to me.

"What do you think? I don't want to go the regular route, you know, with gold finish and red plush carpets and things like that…"

I looked at the design, and though I didn't know shit about this shit, I still had a feeling she was onto something here. She had used light colors, mostly white, grey and silver. The only real color was splashes of baby blue. The drapes and the chairs were all in the same baby blue tone and the carpets were in a slightly darker. The floor seemed to be white marble and the overall feeling was a cold winter wonderland. And it worked. It really fucking worked.

My mom was a fucking genius.

"I fucking love it," I said honestly.

She smiled widely.

"You do? I wasn't sure if I was crazy to think that these cold colors would work… you sure though? It's not too cold and too… wintery? People up north don't need to be reminded about how cold it is," she replied with a thoughtful frown.

"Seriously mom, it's awesome," I said sincerely, "Just put a white grand piano on the stage and you're fucking set."

She smiled and slapped me playfully.

"You and your piano," she murmured softly.

"Can I go now?" I asked and she nodded. I left her office and went up to the third floor to my room.

I closed my bedroom door behind me and walked over to my keyboard and put on my headphones. Up until this summer I had always played my music on the grand piano downstairs, in the living room, but something changed and one day when I sat down I just couldn't get started. I couldn't even touch the fucking keys. I didn't know what the fuck that was about, but I hadn't been able to play on that fucking piano for over four months now, I can even remember the day when it all went to hell.

It took me over a month to get my head out of my ass and buy a fucking keyboard. I figured that if I put that in my room instead, and used headphones, maybe it would be easier. Then nobody but me would hear the crap I composed.

Because it was crap. All fucking crap.

My mom always gushed to her friends about how talented her sons were. Emmett with his sports, and me with my music. I guess she couldn't gush about me anymore, since she hadn't heard me play in months. She asked me about it once, but I just shrugged and changed the subject.

How was I supposed to explain to her why I couldn't create anymore, when I didn't understand the fucking issue myself?

And the fucking keyboard wasn't helping.

I tried to play a little Für Elise, just to get me going, but even that sounded like crap.

I threw my headphones aside and dragged my hand through my hair.

Fucking crap.

Fucking Tuesday.

I rubbed the heels of my hands against my eyes and sighed.

I wanted to blame Emmett and his piece of shit vodka. I wanted to blame Mike Newton, for being the only fucking person in this shithole that was holding a party this weekend. I wanted to blame Isabella Swan for… for… for being alive. Fucking waste of space.

I also wanted to blame her for plowing into me like a fucking freight-train. I bet I was going to get a bruise, with the shape of her head, on my chest now. Who was she to mark me like that?

Of course, I couldn't do that. I couldn't blame anyone of them. My problems started a long time ago. Neither of them was there when it happened. Neither of them could be held responsible. The only thing I could blame was Tuesday.

Because my luck ended on a fucking Tuesday.

All my musical inspiration disapeared on a fucking Tuesday.

I left my place by my keyboard and went over to my stereo, I pressed the play button, not really caring whatever CD I had in at the moment. The soft tones of Beethoven flowed from the speakers, and I guess it was a good thing. Though, I would have liked some angry tunes, I guess Beethoven was better. It made me relax and I wouldn't need to pay to get my window fixed again. Like the last time when I couldn't handle my anger and I ended up throwing a shoe at the window, breaking it in the process.

Did I need to mention that neither of my parents yelled at me then? They actually thought it was an accident. They are deluded if they think that nothing's wrong with me.

It was a Tuesday at the end of July. We had partied on Monday night – seeing as we had no school, there was no reason for us to reserve our parties for the weekends – and I was drunk as a sailor and speeded on whatever Tyler Crowley had to offer that night.

It had been a great night.

I remember that both Jessica Stanley and Tanya Denali's little sister, Irina, had my dick in their mouths that night. I think I even popped another girl's cherry that night too. Though, I can't remember her name. Whatever. She told me I was her first, and I could feel that there hadn't been anyone down there before me, so yeah, she was a virgin and I popped that.

Like I said; great fucking night.

Then I came home and passed out in my bed.

It was hours later, when I somehow woke up in the guest bedroom. I had no idea how I ended up there – I still don't - and with the hangover I was sporting that morning, I really didn't have the energy to care either.

I went down to play around a little on the piano, since it was the best hangover remedy I knew, after spending almost the whole day in bed. I sat down on the bench and I was about to put the fingers on the keys and I… just couldn't.

My fingers hovered over the keys, unable to touch them and I just fucking froze.

Whatever happened between my bed and the guest room messed me the fuck up. I have no idea what the hell that was. The not knowing was driving me insane and it made me act out even more than before. I became an even worse manwhore than before. Everything bad about me became worse, and the little that was good in me disappeared completely.

I was fucking disgusted by myself because of it.

The worst part isn't about my inability to create anymore. The worst part is that no one even seemed to notice that something was fucking off about me. Everyone is treating me like they always have. Even my parents.

One would think that at least they would notice, but they didn't. If you don't count the one time Mom asked me why I didn't play… but c'mon, one time? Didn't my music mean more to her? Maybe not. Maybe I was crappier than I thought, and they were all just happy that they didn't need to hear my shit anymore.

Shit, I'm beginning to sound like a fucking emo kid.

What the hell was that about? Maybe Miss Goose spread her freakiness on me when she pummeled into me, making me fucking depressed. I was just having an off day. Everyone had them. By tomorrow I would be back to fuckawesome and I would be ruling the fucking world again.

I was interrupted from my inner pep talk, by heavy footsteps outside my room. They stopped outside my door.

"Welcome in, Emmett," I said, recognizing the sound of his steps, before he even had the chance to knock. He busted the door open and chuckled.

"I don't know how you do it," he said, shaking his head.

"You're the only giant I know," I replied with a light shrug.

"Ha, ha, very fucking funny," he snorted.

"Was there something you wanted?" I asked with a sigh, looking at him.

"Yeah, we're going to Port Angeles. We're going bowling!" his eyes sparkled and I groaned.

"Bowling? What the fuck is wrong with this town?" I growled, dragging my hands through my hair in frustration.

"Yes, bowling. Are you coming or not?" he replied easily.

I looked around my room, my eyes landing on the keyboard. I wasn't gonna create anything today and I needed to get my frustration out somehow. Maybe bowling was the answer. At least I would get to throw a fifteen-pound ball at ten unsuspecting pins.

I could pretend they were the Goose.

"Whatever," I replied and grabbed my jacket from my chair before following him out.

Alice danced her way down before throwing the ball. She was jumping up and down like a child as she watched the ball. She stopped her excited jumping when she only managed to knock one single pin down. I chuckled. Fucking amateur. She pouted, turned around and walked back to us. Jasper held out his arms and she sat down on his lap.

"I think my ball is broken," she complained.

"Yes, it was the ball," Jasper agreed, kissing her cheek.

"I think your balls are broken," I muttered, and Alice slapped my arm. "HEY!" I protested.

"Don't talk to my boyfriend like that," she said.

"Whatever."

"Hey Ed, you're up," Emmett said from his place as the point-holder.

I went and grabbed my ball and proceeded with throwing it towards the pins. I didn't do Alice's ridiculous dancing routine before throwing the ball. I just walked and threw it. I didn't even bother looking back to see whether or not I knocked any pins down. I didn't care. I was just here because it was better than to being home alone, anyway. I wasn't here to have fun.

"WOW, A STRIKE!" someone shrieked.

I flinched at the sound and turned my head to the café part of the bowling alley. Lauren Mallory was here. She was clapping her hands enthusiastically and I wondered if she was having some sort of episode or something… it took me a second to realize she was clapping for me, and that I was the one making the strike.

She made her way over to us and ignored the others as she walked up to me.

"Wow, Edward, that was amazing…" she gushed. I shrugged and sat down on the empty seat that Rosalie had left, as she went up for her turn. Jessica sat down beside me and I was a little bit bothered by her ridiculous need to be so fucking close. Ever heard of personal space?

"Are you going to the party on Friday?" she asked, her lips close to my ear.

"Haven't decided yet," I replied, without looking at her.

"Oh c'mon, you have to go… everyone is going…" I could almost feel her lips pout and I sighed. Did girls honestly think I was that easy? You couldn't break me with a fucking pout. I wasn't a weak pansy like Jasper or Emmett. A pout wouldn't get you anywhere with me, the only thing it would do was to get you further away from me. "Or maybe you can come by my place… I can make you feel alright," she sighed in my ear when I didn't respond. She trailed her slender fingers up and down my arm. I turned my head to her.

"Why wait for the weekend?" I asked and cocked an eyebrow at her.

Lauren blushed and turned her gaze away. She had always been good at talking the talk, but she never really walked the walk. She only did that when she was drunk. Fuck girls and their self-conscious bullshit.

"Did you drive?" I asked, and she nodded slowly, "Good, so let's get out of here."

I looked at her and she bit her lip.

"I can't… I'm here with my parents, and my sister…" she said quietly, "But Friday?"

I groaned.

"Whatever," I sighed and slumped in my seat.

"See you then," she said and kissed my cheek before walking away.

I quickly wiped my cheek and shivered. All I got from one of the easiest girls in school was a fucking peck on the cheek? I didn't even kiss people on the cheek. What the fuck was this? An after school special?

I blame this fucking day. Fucking Tuesday.

Like I said before, nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday.