I am STRESS WRITING because I have high anxiety because I'm a victim of society.
Those are punk rock lyrics but it's still true.
No beta, mistakes are all mine.
By the time the club shut down, it was well past 6am. Most didn't close until 5am, and the clean-up always seemed to take forever, even when it wasn't my job. Emmett was supposed to be keeping an eye on the inside, but he'd been pre-gaming since midnight and was trashed.
Groaning, I shoved and hefted his massive, comatose frame into the back seat of my matte-black Audi. No fucking way he would've fit into the front seat, and I didn't want him drooling on me. I lit up another cigarette as I pulled out of the private lot under the building reserved for us, and realized I was down to my last dart. Emmett wouldn't keep, though – every second he was sprawled across my back seat was an opportunity for me to rack up a massive detailing bill to clean up the puke.
Instead I took him directly to Carlisle's on Star Island. It was a modest place, as far as mansions went; my de facto father could've owned the whole island if he'd felt in the mood. Usually I detested designated driver duty, but I wanted to talk to Allie, who I knew would be asleep at the house with Jasper.
Allie was like me and Rose, not related by blood, and she had married Jasper about a year after I'd come around. I could remember Esme, Carlisle's wife, crying at finally having a daughter in the family.
Once I finally got Emmett removed from my car, I curled him up around one of the massive palms in the front yard. Rose would have his fucking ass for not coming to bed, and the idea of pissing her off made me laugh darkly as I hopped the second privacy fence that led to the back yard.
On the northern side of the house was a massive, grand staircase that led directly from the yard directly up to the second floor, where most of the bedrooms were. I punched in the code, waving to Demetri through one of the many security cameras. The man was vigilant as a hawk, and my cat burglar-like entrances drove him insane. "Please use the fucking front door, Masen." Carlisle found it hilarious, so I only gave Demetri the bird and continued on.
Entering the house in less traditional ways reminded me of CQB when I was aiming for a promotion to Team 6. Since I had never made it before my shoulder imploded like a smashed pineapple, it was the closest I could get to living the dream.
I closed the door behind me gently, then strode down the massive hallway toward the east wing where the kids' rooms were. Alice and Jasper had their own suites, so once I opened the door to their main living room I passed directly through to the bedroom.
She was passed out, curled around Jasper like a koala, her arms and legs tangled up in his. I reached out and smacked her foot, which sent her flying awake; poor kid had always been a light sleeper. Her movement woke up Jaz, who sat up and pulled a gun to aim at my face in one fluid motion.
I sat at the end of the bed, sliding my shades up from my eyes to rest on the top of my head. "Oh come on now, honey, no need to get so frisky right away. At least save it for the second date."
Jazz growled, sliding the Sig back under his pillow and curled back up into the bedding. I heard a mumbled epithet that sounded vaguely like asshole, eliciting a barking laugh from me.
Allie gave me a plaintive look that meant absolutely nothing to me. I just stared back at her, my emerald green eyes meeting her brilliant hazel, waiting for her to explain. Then she coughed and gestured to her chest, which was completely naked.
Oh. Fuck. She was naked. I was caught off guard so bad I immediately fell off the end of the bed where I'd been perched, my ass smacking the floor, warranting another snarl from Jazz.
"Will you two go do your sewing circle bullshit in the living room so I can fucking sleep?" Came Jasper's irate voice. I coughed, jumping up from the floor and immediately spinning around. Not like I was a prude or anything, but ogling my kinda-sister's naked chest was a line I had no interest in crossing. Tits were tits, and I saw plenty every night I was at the club.
I heard a shuffling from behind me as Alice presumptively got dressed. When she walked around so I could see her, she had on a completely opaque black silk dressing gown, her chin-length black hair still disheveled. Her face flat, she gestured grandly to the front room, making me snicker as I did as commanded.
I had just sat down on the couch and was reaching for another smoke when I remembered I didn't have any. Ugh. Alice plopped down next to me, her body curled up on the cushion and turned to face me.
"Not that I don't love being awake at…" She glanced at the carriage clock on the mantle, then continued, "6:39am, but what the fuck, Tone. Honestly."
All brevity forgotten, I looked her in the eye for a moment before I let my gaze fall to the tasseled pillow in her lap. "I had that dream again, Al."
I wasn't looking at her but I could still feel her probing stare, all the questions it contained.
"That's the sixth time this month, E. Have you tried looking for her again?"
A growl bubbled up past my lips, frustration boiling over. It only started off as every once in a great while I'd have the dream, and it was always the same. The six year old Bella I remembered, lying in a pool of blood in her treehouse. She'd always reach out to me and smile just before her lungs faltered and failed. The last and only thing she'd say was it wasn't my fault.
It had started after I joined the Teams, and was on tour in Afghanistan. My squad would give me shit for it every time I woke up drenched in a cold sweat. They called it my hero complex, because what fucked me up the most was that I couldn't save her.
When I got back stateside some months and one more dream later, I tried like hell to look her up. MySpace, Facebook, Instagram, Vine, WhitePages, any possible thing I could think of. Didn't matter; as far as the Internet was concerned, Isabella Swan didn't exist.
Every time I'd have the dream I'd repeat my futile search; I'd even had Carlisle ask his best guy, Felix, to do a deep dive for her. Still nothing. It felt like my mind was telling me something, that she was in danger, and every time I came up empty handed I feared the worst. If I couldn't find her, she couldn't be dead - obituaries were usually publicized, weren't they?
"I'd be better off beating a dead horse, Al, and you know it. I just can't stop feeling like she's fucking... in danger or something."
Alice reached out, covering my hands with hers. I hadn't realized I'd been brutalizing an oblong decorative pillow. Disgusted, I chucked the thing at the wall, where it collided then fell to the floor.
"Stop it, Tone. Have Felix look again. Clearly this is fucking you up and I am not nearly qualified enough to analyze your shit."
When she slipped into the formal, calling me Tone instead of her nickname E, I jerked my head up to glare at her. "He's not gonna magically find something the 4th go around, Al. Either she's dead or she don't wanna be found."
My only close friend sighed, glancing again at the clock. It'd already been over 30 minutes. I groaned, rubbing a hand down my face.
"Sorry, Allie... I'll ask him. Go back to bed. Mind if I crash in the spare room? I gotta he back here tonight to babysit Em and the boys."
She stood, kissing the top of my head. "Sure, sure, but be ready for Jazz to get payback. I'll see you when you're up, okay?"
I nodded, swatting her away before she could hug me.
"And E..." I looked up at her warily, waiting. "You fucking smell like booze."
Yanking the pillow she'd been holding off the couch I hurled it at her, smacking her in the thigh. Al only stuck her tongue out at me before walking back into the bedroom and closing the door.
Just because I played DD didn't mean I was sober; I was probably sweating whiskey all over Alice's couch. Fuck a drink sounded good.
I wandered down to the kitchen, where Esme was standing at the island. Their maid, Irina, was making her a cappuccino as Esme perused the morning paper.
I swooped in, giving her a wet peck on the cheek, then sauntered over to Carlisle's liquor cabinet. I was picking through his scotch collection when I heard Esme tsk at me, so I grabbed a bottle at random.
Unscrewing the lid, I took a swig right from the bottle and leaned against the counter opposite to her. Her gentle, motherly face took on a scowl, and she smacked me in the arm with the now-rolled up paper.
"Please tell me you're not driving home like that, Edward. You boys are going to drive me into an early grave, I swear."
"You wound me, mama. I already asked Alice if I could have the guest room." I winked at her, causing her to throw her hands up. Yes, I was incorrigible despite her well-meaning attempts.
"Honestly, Edward, I don't know why you bother to ask, you already know it's yours." She sighed, exasperated, as Irina walked over and handed her the steaming teacup full of caffeine.
Esme was taking a sip as I kissed her head more affectionately this time. "Still feels polite to ask. Love you, ma."
She placed a hand on my cheek and smiled, letting it drift off as I walked away to stumble back up the sweeping staircase to my borrowed room. When I got to the room I finished another 1/3 of the bottle and passed out still in my dirty clothes, face down on the bed. God it was fucking spinning a lot.
I still dreamt of bloody Bella, and vomited into a pillow case when I woke up.