Hey, guys! Happy Pride month! Here's a long chapter!
It's easier to breathe when the sun hits against her skin, drives away the darkness of the night. For a while, she gets to pretend. Pretend that Jake's alarm is her own, that she awakes with groggy and crusty eyes and a head of hair that looks impossible to untangle. Instead, she feels the exhaustion in her bones - never ending, never changing. It's always there, like an omen, a promise, a reminder. It says, "you're a monster and you know it. Did you enjoy licking your mouth clean of blood?"
A creaking alerts Isabella to Jake's presence.
"You know, when I was still human I used to love waking up to the sun."
Rubbing a towel through his wet hair, Jake nodded. "Man, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't sleep. I'd probably kill myself."
Isabella snorts. "I've tried that and it didn't work." Silence is her answer and she winces as she responds. "Sorry. I know that wasn't a joke."
"Let's hurry to school today, okay? I have to make up a test for Boyarsky."
He leaves her in stinging silence. Strike one of the day, Isabella. It seems like she can never stop messing up, never stop ruining things. Especially when it concerns people she loves.
The blood of her own mother is on her mouth now, the blood of her fellow villagers, the blood of herself and the blood of Jacob and of Bartholomew's and people will never stop bleeding, dead or alive.
And her hands are slick with it all.
/
She wants to be happy.
A couple link hands, flushed cheeks and small kisses pressed to the underside of an ear.
Knows that she will never be happy. People like her, with the things she's done, don't deserve happiness.
A darkness that she can feel ebb from the depths of the woods surrounding the school. Knows that, instead, she belongs there in solitude. She doesn't deserve Jake's warm, happy smiles. She doesn't deserve to sit in a room with the humans she so very badly wants to desecrate.
If she focuses hard enough, she can imagine how the blood of her teacher would taste, of the blonde girl, of the small one looking at her from across the room.
She wants to kill and maim because that's what she was made to do. You can't rewire a monster.
Instead, she grips the underside of the table. Woods crumbles into her hand and she holds it there - a testament to her power.
Jake, of course, holds her steady. "When's the last you hunted?" He whispers under his breath.
"Two weeks ago."
"You're pushing it," he growls, and immediately she can feel the excess heat come off of him. It's hard for him, she knows. There's only so much that he can do to hold back his instincts.
"Eating gets boring." Especially after one has been alive for centuries.
He groans. "That Cullen girl keeps staring at you. Why?"
Isabella can feel an eyebrow lift up in question. "Which one?"
"The small one. Her name is Alice."
"Oh." A beat, another. Pause. Pause. Pause. The clock reads 2:10. "Well, two weeks ago she borrowed a pencil from me."
"She actually approached you?"
"Yeah. It was a little weird and I think she was embarrassed."
Isabella lifts her head up to find that, yes, the girl is staring at her.
Alice seems to be surprised when they make eye contact and she can see the girl bite down, mouth open and close. She brings a hand up to a small wave.
Startled, Isabella keeps staring. What is she waving for? Is she waving at me?
The smile drips away from the girl's face and the hand starts to drop.
God, you waited too long.
Isabella shifts her mouth into something of a small smile. Instantly, she can see the tension fall away from Alice's shoulders.
"Bud, you really suck at this whole socializing thing."
"Shut up, Jake."
/
Angela Weber reminds her of a girl she once knew. This girl, with her stiff shoulders and wise smiles, died drowning.
This girl she once knew walked right into a lake, claiming she could breathe underwater, knowing she couldn't.
It took three months to find any remains of her. An old grandmother had found an arm, torn and bloodied.
Isabella can still remember the blood stains on her own dress. She's killed a lot more people than she can remember. Those murdered ghosts come to her in flashes.
Soft, soft lips, small hands, flushed skin,
and blood, warm and slick and sticky, and god her screams…
When Ben fixates himself in her direction, like a compass, he reminds her of a man slaughtered, begged for his wife and child and died with God's name on his tongue.
/
Something kisses her shoulder that night. Nothing good, nothing good.
"Come out and play." It whispers at her, and the fresh scent of blood fills her nose. "You are starving yourself. Free the monster inside of you, Isabella."
"Oh god," she heaves. "Go away, go away." Covers her ears and holds her breath. "Get away from me."
When she uncurls herself from Death, the sun is high in the sky and plagued voices are nowhere to be found. But the bruise of the kiss and the smell of blood sears every organ inside of her body.
When she glances in the mirror, she sees a caricature of herself, bones hollowed out and teeth too, too sharp to play nice. Her fangs glint behind the front row of her teeth, and they promise destruction and blood and death.
/
Later that day, both Isabella and Jake are in Lowe's looking for a new bathroom mirror.
/
Eventually, they do go see that movie. Jake buys tickets the night before it leaves the theaters and he makes sure to drag Isabella off of the couch.
It's a horror movie that Isabella doesn't know the name of.
"Those are real, you know?" Referencing the Wendigo on screen, she turns to Jake, eyes clenched and tight expression. A loud scream bursts from the speakers and Jake's chest caves in on itself.
"Shut up."
"No, I'm for real." Isabella continues, ignores the scathing look from her furry friend. "In 1918, at the height of the Spanish Influenza, a group of like, five hikers disappeared in the mountains of Oregon. A survivor escaped and was half torn apart. It was wild."
"I actually think I remember hearing about that." Jake remarks through clenched teeth and sweat drips from his pale face. "God, this movie is a lot worse than Rotten Tomatoes said."
"You look like you're about to vomit."
"I feel like I am."
"Okay, and we're leaving! C'mon, big guy." She stands, hoists Jake to his feet, forgetting the barely touched popcorn. "I'll drive home."
Outside offers relief to Jake and his rolling stomach. As he leans up against the wall, he apologizes. "Next time, we'll go see an actual good movie and I won't eat so much steak before we go."
"Hm. I get to pick next time." She doesn't comment on the complete lack of steak Jake had before they left, but that's neither here nor there.
The drive home is a comfortable silence, and the drive back home is beautiful as always. Isabella is fine with completely silent drives, but Jake doesn't do silence so well.
"Forks has its first basketball game this weekend. Will you come?"
Isabella pretends to mull it over. "Well, I'll have to check my calendar, but yes I do believe that I'll be able to make it." She tosses him a teasing glance, and the reassurance makes him happy. She winces. She definitely wouldn't win sister of the year with the way she acts.
"Thank you."
"Of course." Isabella flips her turn signal, switches lanes. Jacob leans his head against the window and she mutters again. "Anything."
/
Mondays are arduous, to say the least.
The air is different on Mondays. Kids shamble through the hallway like half arisen zombies and teachers over-do the coffee. The school feels almost as dead as Isabella actually is.
It's not a pleasant feeling.
Jake is talking to her while taking notes. He talks with the corners of his mouth, melodic and hypnotizing in a way. It's amazing that somebody can put so much of themselves into one small muscle movement. Beautiful.
"You're staring again." Jake reminds her gently.
"God," Isabella casts her head down. It's something that she forgets to watch as she molds herself into the fake cast of humanity. She knows Jake doesn't mind the staring - knows it's a way for Isabella to grasp new concepts about humanity. But other people look at them both oddly when she stares for a little too long. "I'm sorry, Jake."
"What are you confused about this time?"
"Emotion." She focuses her attention to the peeling of the wooded sticker covering her desk. The edges are starting to peel. Isabella decides then that it's a good idea for her to slide her fingernail underneath the sticker and pick at it. Her eyes sting at the admission.
A reminder that she will never be anything other than what she knows she is. A monster, through and through.
"You understand emotion just fine." Jake disagrees, reaching for his block eraser, having completely destroyed the one on the tip of his pencil.
"No. Only negative emotion, really."
Jake let's the subject fall, not knowing how not to argue with Isabella. He never wins.
Isabella picks at the table some more. "I just wish I was a little better at conveying basic emotion is all. I hear these kids, they always say I look like I belong in a statue museum."
Jake nudges her to get her attention, draws her line of sight to the small Cullen girl, dark hair and bright smiles. Only, Isabella doesn't get those smiles. She gets shy, curious glances and barely corner smiles. "You could always practice. I've been listening around, I guess she's been working up the courage to talk to you for days now. Make it easier for her. You're not exactly the most approachable sort. And," he continues, "it'll be nice for you to have a friend when I'm gone. The Cullens are good people."
Practice? "Hm." The fake veneer of the table comes off in long one strip.
/
Practice. Practice. Practice. The words repeats itself in her head for the next week. What does Jacob mean by practice?
She evaluates the girl more throughout her time in school. She shares most of her classes with the small, pixie - like girl. Actually, Isabella shares a lot of classes with the Cullen siblings in general. Though, in Biology II, Isabella shares that class with both Alice and Jacob's friend, Emmett.
Practice. Isabella blows out an irritated breath. Practice.
Ugh, what the fuck!
Practice. Unintentionally and without her knowledge, Isabella fixates her gaze upon the small girl, deep in thought. How the fuck does one practice on another human? Also unintentionally, she finds herself listening in on the conversation they're having.
"Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good about this weekend. I'm sure I'll get over this cold that I have going on. If not, I'll push through it, not a big deal." Emmett rambles, chin in hand, staring at the ceiling as he, indeed, sniffles.
"I'm a little nervous." Alice shrugs, a frown pulled at the edge of her mouth. Fascinating, Isabella thinks, looking closer. What is it with humans and communicating emotions with their mouths? Alice continues. "Some of the freshmen girls on the JV team don't have their steps down yet. I don't want that to reflect badly on the basketball team. Or on me."
"They'll be fine! You worry about the same thing every year." Emmett claps her on the back, and in doing so, the corner of his eye catches Isabella's fixed gaze on his sister. Isabella freezes. What does she do now? Look away?
"Hey, shorty." Emmett whispers under his breath. "Isabella Swan is staring at you."
God, fuck me!
Isabella frantically starts to think about what it is she should do. Does she look away, pretend it didn't happen, or meet on the challenge head first?
Alice turns around, a thousand of curious emotions swirling in the depths of silver eyes, a kind of grey Isabella has never seen grace a human before. Alice's head tilts.
Remembering, Isabella responds with a small smile, a small wave.
That seemed to be the correct thing to do. Alice's eyes light up immediately, a toothy grin making its debut appearance.
Isabella finally looks away, allowing herself this small victory. She did good, or at least, she hopes she did good.
/
Jake has to leave during sixth period. The wolf calls again.
/
Practice. Isabella drums her finger on the steering wheel of her car. Practice.
The idea of practicing makes her excited for the dreary day at Forks High.
Even if she's been in the turn lane for five minutes, waiting for seven-thirty traffic to get by.
Maybe she'll try saying hello to the receptionist. Maybe she'll wave at the lunch lady, or her Russian teacher. Maybe she'll talk to Alice today.
Alice.
As she runs a frantic hand through her hair, creatures more fierce than the mere butterfly lay wake in her stomach. She sat on her bed thinking about a conversation with Alice. Alice, a human girl who is soft and warm and has blood rushing through her veins every second of everyday. Alice, a girl who can express emotions at the corners of her mouth and with a tug at her eyebrows. Isabella isn't even sure what is pumping through her own veins.
Her dad's teeth at her neck, burning, burning, burning. "That's ichor you feel, Isabella. Embrace it." Screaming, screaming, screaming - the blood and burnt flesh and
the screaming doesn't ever stop.
The traffic doesn't break, either. Isabella sits in the turn lane, blinker on, for ten more minutes. Isabella stares on, counts the cars that have forgotten about their headlights.
/
When the receptionist is filling out her tardy slip, Isabella steels herself.
You are way older than she is. You can say thank you.
"Thank you!" Isabella blurts out, snatching her tardy slip and damn near sprinting out of the front office.
Well, that could have gone worse than it did, at least.
/
Practice, practice, practice.
She says hello to the librarian. Says thank you to the lunch lady, and apologizes for not accepting an apple. Isabella smiles at Mr. Petrov and the blinding smile he gives her back makes the blood on the back of her eyelids fade just a little more.
Today, she even answers a question, ignoring the love-sick stares and jealous sneers when she answers in perfect Russian. Most of all, she pretends not to see the shocked look from the other Cullen sister. The beautiful blonde named Rosalie.
Briefly, and perhaps, mistakenly, she thinks about introducing herself to Rosalie.
But the tight clench to her jaw and the steely glint in her eyes gives Isabella a second thought about doing so.
/
Later, she'll reflect on not saying hello. Feel bad because people say the same things about Rosalie that they do about her.
/
Fifth period. Biology.
She gets there early, no Jacob to keep her occupied in the hallways today.
Her hands shake as she takes her seat. Alice. The thought of her invites rotting acid to scorch the soft lining of Isabella's stomach. Should she try and say something to her today?
She stares at her desk for a few minutes, deep in thought. Her visions blurs around the edges, the fault in the wood reveal themselves to her. Why is she so nervous to be around this girl? A girl whose hands are soft and kind and who has a dimple on one side of her cheek, but not the other. A girl so thin and fragile that Isabella feels like her own arms could wrap around Alice's lithe frame twice.
Students start to trickle in, now. Jessica Stanley, bold with her bright colored lipstick. Mike Newton, hair so gelled that it looks like plastic. Emmett Cullen, smile too white, thick muscles and a tight chest. Then, Alice. Alice. Alice.
The girl has her arms linked in with another Cullen boy. His name is Jasper and he has eyes older than he is and lips that are sprinkled with war. He holds his body in a way that reminds her of an atomic bomb and a clenched jaw that would fight well in the trenches of World War I.
His hold on Alice is protective. When he walks in, a quick glance around the room reassures him that no threats are in the presence of his other family members. He's interesting to watch. Jasper walks almost on the balls of his feet all the time. Scars litter the side of his neck, the soft side of his arm.
Alice whispers something to him softly, and the smile he gives her is sweet, affectionate, but undeniably small.
Are they dating? Isabella wonders quietly, removing her gaze from the Cullen kids, looking out the window instead of watching them sit at their desks.
Jasper lingers around both Emmett and Alice until the warning bell. He's cautious in the way he allows himself to bleed in front of his siblings, in the way he allows himself to show love, to kiss the top of Alice's head and clap Emmett's back.
The bell rings. The lecture is short today, worksheets were handed out and the instructions were easy to understand. After that, they were left to their own devices.
Isabella allows herself to listen in.
"I'm glad Jazzy is back." Alice comments, idly doodling on her paper.
"Me, too. The game would have sucked this weekend if he wasn't back." Agreeing, Emmett flips his paper over.
Silence passes over them, Isabella can tell it's an uncomfortable silence - one with questions in the air.
"What's going on, Tink?" Emmett finally gives in, a sigh leaving his taut shoulders.
"Well," Alice starts, then stops. She grabs a piece of paper from her notebook, scrawls something, hands it to Emmett.
He seems to know what it says before he even reads it. He responds verbally. "You don't seem to remember what happened last time."
She grabs the paper from his hand, writes on it again.
"Okay, whatever you feel is the best. Scream if you start to feel like you're dying."
Isabella scowls at her pencil. Though she knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop, she desperately wanted to know what they were talking about. Why does Emmett feel as though she'll be in danger? What does Alice not remember the last time what happened?
So lost in her own world, she doesn't notice the presence at the end of her table until the sweet smell of lilacs hit her nose.
Snapping her head up, she makes eye contact with Alice.
Wringing her hands together, Alice appears to be trying to think of things to say, wide eyes not breaking contact with Isabella's. Finally, she takes a deep breath.
"Can I sit here."
The "yes" falls out of Isabella's mouth before she has a chance to think about responding.
Isabella records the way Alice daintily pulls out the chair, sits down, and scooches herself in. So very human in her movements but also so very careful. Lilacs and honey start to fill her nose, make her head spin.
They make eye contact again. But this time, Isabella is graced with a bright flash of teeth and beautiful crinkles around darkly framed eyes. "Hi." Alice says, almost a whisper. "My name is Alice Cullen. Thank you for letting me sit here."
"You're more than welcome." Isabella blurts out, stutters to try to add on. "No, wait, thank you for wanting to sit here." Alice giggles slightly and Isabella rushes to conclude her sentence. "Oh! And also my name is Isabella Swan."
Alice sticks out her hand, chuckling all the while. "Nice to meet you, Isabella Swan."
Reciprocating, Isabella shakes her hand and winces, forcing her mouth to open in order to distract herself with the overwhelming warmth seeping from this human girl in front of her. "I'm terribly sorry. You'll have to forgive me, I don't have a lot of practice in the social aspect of life."
"It's okay," Alice smiles all the same, gently letting go of her hand. "May I ask where your brother is?"
"At home, sick."
"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that." She can hear the frown in Alice's voice, even though she's focused on the edge of the table. So emotive.
"He'll be better before the game, though." Isabella feels like she needs to reassure her, knowing a lot of this might be in earshot of Alice's brother.
"Will you be there?" Alice is still turned towards her.
Glancing up, Isabella can see silver eyes trained on her, a soft smile in place. "Yeah. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"That's very sweet of you, Isabella." A pause rings out, not knowing how to respond verbally to that, Isabella nods. But, Alice continues. "Hey, do you know what the answer to number three is? I can't seem to figure it out."
"Here you go." Sliding her completed paper towards Alice, she gets time to study her face.
Dark, long eyelashes, freckles sprinkled across her nose, across her cheeks, mouth curved in concentration, foot tapping against the floor… human. All so very, beautifully, heartbreakingly human.
Practice. Practice. Practice.
"Will you be attending the basketball game, as well?" Isabella asks quietly. Alice nods. If the shorter girl is annoyed with the question, her face doesn't show it. Not even the corners of her mouth display displeasure.
"Yeah," a sigh. "I'm the varsity captain. I really do have to be there."
"You don't want to be there." It was supposed to be a question, but it came out as a statement instead. Isabella hopes she didn't overstep her boundaries.
"No, no, I do. I just…" She shrugs delicately, flipping the pencil between her fingers. "And, well, I guess I say this every year, but I'm not sure my JV team is ready for their first cheer." Alice looks up to further explain, and Isabella is privy to the furrowing of her brows. Frustration and worry knotted alongside her brow bone.
They make eye contact again. Isabella loses herself momentarily, tracking the movement of Alice's eyes. Hers flicker between Isabella's own, follows the sharp line of her eyebrow to the lower edge of her face.
"I'm sure you'll wrangle them in." Isabella breaks the silence, murmuring. Alice's eyes move away from the lower half of her face and flick back up to Isabella's eyes. A soft smile replaces the concerned and tight frown Alice had been sporting only moments earlier.
"Thank you." The bell rings and Alice picks up her stuff. "I'll catch you on the sidelines, Isabella."
She watches her leave, and for the first time it doesn't feel like blood is clogging her airways when she takes her next breath.
/
"I talked to her today."
"Who?" Jake grumbles, holding his rook in his hand, trying to figure out where to place it.
"Alice."
"Oh," Jakes eyes widen. "Well, how did it go?"
It's Isabella's turn to frown, now. "Good, I think. Or well, I hope it went well."
"I'm sure you did great!" Jake smiles and laughs, misguidedly placing his rook down in an area open for attack. "I'm proud of you."
Isabella decides to not take his rook.
/
She manages to find herself an isolated spot at the top of the bleachers, maneuvering her way through yellow and blue painted bodies and already alcohol laced breath.
She can see Jacob warming up, easily tossing up some layups and somehow, despite his size, slipping out and around his fellow teammates. She forgets who they're going up against, either Port Angeles or whatever nearby town after that. This team, though, sports jerseys in purple and red. The kids are big and burly, too. Nobody seems at all intimidated.
In truth, the only reason Isabella came to these games was for Jake. Though, she did manage to find a blue shirt and a yellow bracelet to show her school spirit. She's not super fond of bright colors.
On the side lines, the Forks Keres stand. Vibrant in their yellow skirts and blue tops.
Isabella searches for Alice, loses her breath when she finds a pair of stormy grey eyes fixated on her face. Timidly, she picks her hand up in a slight wave, expecting one back as they've acknowledged each other this way before. However, obviously this time wasn't the same as every other interaction before.
Alice winks at her.
Isabella's mouth goes bone dry, breath suddenly halting in her chest. Oh, wow. Alice is breathtaking with her too short skirt and tight top. Making out the muscular lines of her body underneath the thin material, Isabella can feel her hands start to shake. Momentarily, Isabella considers the existence of Alice being something other than human - it shouldn't be possible for a human to be as attractive as Alice looks now.
Isabella watches as Alice ushers a small group of younger looking girls up onto the gym floor. Supposedly, they were performing, but how could Isabella know with the hip swaying that Alice was doing in time with the music? How was she supposed to pay attention when, yet again, Alice searched out her own eyes, an emotion she didn't recognize deep within them?
Loud cheering broke her concentration. The game had started.
Jake did well, as always. With the combination of being so tall and intuitive, he had the other team stumped for most of the game. He made sure to pass his other teammates the ball, cheered for his team as Jasper made a basket, and groaned as Mike was tripped. Emmett scored often, too. Both him and Jake working like a well oiled machine.
Isabella sat in fascination. The quick flurry of hands and the squeaking of dry shoes against the gym floor made her realize what about basketball was so intoxicating.
Forks was up by thirty points when the halftime show began. She watched as Alice's girls poured out onto the gym floor, setting themselves up in formation. The music starts and the Forks Keres explode with life and ferociousness, obviously meant to intimidate the other team's small and unimpressive cheerleading team.
Stunned, Isabella keeps her eyes on Alice. Dancing in ways Isabella is both interested in seeing and almost embarrassed, Alice dominates the floor. The tight skirt doesn't offer much coverage and neither does the top when it rides up on Alice, displaying the smooth skin underneath. She's incredibly… seductive in her slow, alluring movements, the flirtatious glances that she tossed at the crowd.
Isabella, with all of her might, with her centuries of being alive on this earth and never having seen anything like this, is powerless to do anything other than sit like an idiot with a gaping mouth. Much like the rest of the audience.
When they're done. Alice's gaze goes directly to Isabella, taking in her stunned expression and open jaw.
She bites her lip, smirks.
Isabella is never missing one of Jake's games again.