Chapter 51: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend
December 31, 1999
Volterra, Italy
Vittorio opened the rear door of his jeep, the creak of rusty hinges echoing in the otherwise silent garage. He grimaced as he reached for the heavy, cold cage he'd been ordered to retrieve. The dim, flickering lights above cast a harsh glow around him, a stark contrast to the polished marble halls several levels above. He glanced around, his eyes scanning for any sign of onlookers, but the garage was empty. That was just as well; he couldn't imagine a more humiliating assignment.
The guards' garage, a stark and functional space, lacked the opulence of the upper echelons of the Volturi's domain. No gleaming sports cars or luxurious sedans here—just a utilitarian collection of vehicles meant for tasks like this. Vittorio's lips curled into a sneer as he hoisted the cage out, the scuffling sounds from within growing louder as he lifted it. This was not the kind of work he'd envisioned when he'd sworn allegiance to the Volturi. But orders were orders, and disobedience was not an option.
He stepped into the corridor, the cage continuing to rattle with each step. The long, stone-lined hallways of Volterra stretched out before him, a maze of shadows and echoes. As he walked, he passed several groups of guards, their eyes following him with thinly veiled amusement. He could feel their stares, hear the snickers and whispered jabs at his expense. Vittorio kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, his jaw clenched in defiance. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing his frustration. They were on their way to the grand celebration, one he had been deliberately excluded from—a reminder of his place within the Volturi hierarchy.
At last, he reached his destination, the heavy metal door looming before him like a gate to another world. He paused for a moment, steeling himself before grasping the iron handle and pulling it open. The door creaked ominously as it swung back, revealing the descending staircase into the dungeons below. The air was thick with dampness and the scent of ancient stone, a stark contrast to the grandeur above. Vittorio stepped inside, the darkness swallowing him as he made his way down, the cage rattling with each step.
Vittorio descended the ancient stone stairways, each step taking him deeper into the bowels of the castle, far below the already shadowed basement. The air grew colder with every level, the weight of centuries pressing down on the narrow, spiraling staircase. At last, he reached the bottom, where a thick, iron-bound door stood as the final barrier to the dungeon. He pushed it open, the heavy door groaning in protest as it swung wide.
Beyond, the dimly lit dungeon sprawled before him, a labyrinth of dark cells and damp walls that had witnessed countless horrors over the ages. To the side of the main hallway, illuminated by the flicker of a single lightbulb, sat Rupert, the head of the dungeon, and Samuel, one of his fellow guardsmen. The two of them were hunched over a makeshift table, their faces set in concentration as they played poker.
It was a bleak scene—two immortals passing the endless days of their eternity guarding other immortals, either serving their sentences or awaiting trial and death. Vittorio heaved a sigh, knowing that any chance of advancement was not in the cards for him.
"Vito! Where have you been?" Rupert called out, his voice laced with irritation. He glanced up from the poker table, his eyes narrowing. "You should have been back hours ago."
Vittorio had been telling everyone his name wasn't Vito for over three decades, but no matter what he said, they would only refer to him as Vito. Apparently, there had been another member of the Volturi hundreds of years ago named Vittorio, and Aro, insisting he didn't want to dishonor Vittorio's memory, decreed that henceforth he would be known as Vito. And, as always, Aro's word was law. Everyone else followed suit without question.
Vittorio was pretty sure Aro was just fucking with him because he could. He'd seen the way Aro looked at him when he read his memories after sentencing him to servitude within the Volturi 35 years ago.
"The lab closed earlier than usual because of New Year's. I had to break in to get the cage, and then I had to fill it up myself," Vittorio explained, trying to keep his tone neutral, hoping Rupert would just let it go.
Rupert, however, wasn't in the mood for excuses. "That shouldn't have added much time to your task. You are a vampire, aren't you?" Rupert had already lost a tidy sum to Samuel playing cards tonight, and he wasn't about to take any bullshit from Vito.
Vittorio heaved a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine, I was hungry, and I happened to drive by a streetwalker. Figured I could celebrate the New Year with a fuck and a meal. If you think about it, I saved time by consolidating my needs into one outing."
Samuel, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "You shouldn't pull that shit while you're on the job. What if Aro finds out?"
"Fuck Aro! I've been collecting rats for that miserable asshole down the hall for 35 years, and I'm sure I'll be the fucking rat boy for the next 15 until my sentence is up." Vittorio's voice dripped with bitterness. It was New Year's Eve, the dawn of a new millennium, and instead of celebrating, he was stuck in a dungeon. Sure, he wasn't behind bars, but it felt like a prison all the same.
Rupert shook his head at the outburst. "Jesus, Vito. Don't even think shit like that. You know damn well that when Aro touches any of us, he's going to hear exactly what you just said. Do you want him tacking even more years onto your sentence?"
Vittorio grimaced, the truth in Rupert's words hitting him hard. He hated when Rupert was right, especially when it meant curbing his own frustration. He heaved a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to regain control over his temper. Just in case, he sent a silent apology to Aro, quickly thinking of anything that might appease the ancient vampire and avoid further punishment. "You're right, man. It's just this damn day getting to me. They're having a huge New Year's party up there, and I peeked into the ballroom on my way down. They've got blood flowing out of fucking fountains, and we're stuck down here, acting as goddamn babysitters."
Vittorio had had lofty aspirations when he first became a vampire. In the 1950s, he had been a high-ranking member of the Cosa Nostra, before a small coven of Sicilian vampires decided he would make the perfect addition to their ranks. They needed more muscle, and Vittorio, with his ruthless reputation, fit the bill. But his fortune quickly soured when his coven foolishly started stealing from the Volturi. The consequences were swift and brutal. Most of his coven had been wiped out, but Vittorio's ignorance of their schemes had spared him the same grizzly fate. Instead of having that freak Felix rip his head off, Aro sentenced him to 50 years of servitude.
Now, every day was a countdown. Vittorio marked off the years, each one bringing him closer to freedom. He just had to make it to 2015, and then, finally, he would once again be a free vampire.
Rupert nodded, barely glancing up as he quickly peeked at the hand he'd been dealt, then cast a dismissive look at Vito, who was still standing there, rat cage in hand. "Well, what are you waiting for? Are you going to deliver that lovely New Year's feast to Copper down there?"
Vittorio glanced down at the cage, then at the long hallway stretching out before him. "Nah, fuck him. Deal me in. I'll feed him tomorrow. It's not like he's looking forward to eating this shit anyway."
Vittorio set the cage down with a thud and slapped 500 Euros onto the table. As he settled into his seat, Samuel quickly counted out the corresponding chips, sliding them across the table. In no time, he was being dealt his first hand. He tried to focus on the cards, forcing his mind away from the lavish party going on upstairs. But the image of Heidi, strutting around in her usual thigh-high, fuck-me boots, kept creeping back into his thoughts. If only, he thought wistfully, letting the fantasy linger.
As the three Volturi guards played, the rest of the dungeon remained eerily silent. The main corridor stretched out, long and winding, with rough-hewn stones worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. The faint, distant drip of water echoed through the dark passage, a reminder of the passage of time and the weight of the ages pressing down from above.
Each cell along the way stood as a testament to the countless souls that had passed through the Volturi's grasp. Heavy iron bars, corroded at the edges, bore the marks of age and neglect, their cold metal holding back prisoners who had long since learned, through pain and punishment, that silence was their only ally here. The cells housed a fluctuating population. Some were empty, their occupants long gone—either conscripted into further servitude or disposed of as Aro saw fit.
At the far end of the first row of cells, the stone floor gave way to a thicker, more formidable metal door. Darkened with age and marred by centuries of wear, this door stood as a barrier between the regular cells and the long-term holding area—a place reserved for those vampires whom Aro wished to make examples of. The handle, polished smooth by countless hands, was a dull reminder of those who had passed through before, into the darker depths beyond.
Beyond the door, the atmosphere grew colder, the air thick with despair and the faint, metallic scent of blood long since dried. The stones here were darker, stained by endless years of captivity and suffering. The dim hall lights barely penetrated the cells, which were kept dark, as this was a place where all hope had died millennia ago.
At the very end of this foreboding hallway stood one particular cell, indistinguishable from the others in its construction, holding a singular occupant. Inside, seated in the shadows, was Edward Mason. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of quiet resignation. He remained motionless, his pale skin almost blending into the cold stone behind him. Seventy years had passed since he had first been thrown into this cell, and in all that time, he had only been allowed out once—for a brief evaluation in the throne room, after which he had been promptly returned to his confinement.
Edward didn't move, didn't acknowledge the turn of the millennium or the passage of time. There was no point. Day after day, night after night, he remained as still as the stones surrounding him, lost in a haze of daydreams and memories. Occasionally, he would stir when it was time to feed, but otherwise, he remained a silent figure in the darkness, his thoughts his only companions.
Sometimes Edward wished he didn't have a vampire's enhanced brain power and perfect memory. The stillness of his cell, with its cold, damp stone walls and the faint echo of distant drips, offered little distraction. Even though no one had mentioned it or given him any information about the outside world for decades, he still knew what today was. In just fifteen minutes, it would be the year 2000. The quiet tick of time in his mind was inescapable, and he would mark the arrival of this milestone just as he had marked all the others for the past seventy years—alone, in the darkness of his confinement.
A new millennium... Edward wished he had it in him to hope for a better century ahead, but he knew it was pointless. One year bled into the next, and decade after decade, all he could do was think. His mind, ever active, had become both his sanctuary and his prison. In the endless hours of solitude, he had written 26 full-length novels, every word stored meticulously in his memory. He had composed countless songs, some with lyrics that echoed through his thoughts, others orchestrated with the rich, imagined sounds of a full symphony. He had lived an entire human lifetime within the confines of his mind, and the daunting prospect was that he would live out many, many more.
Thoughts of Carlisle and Esme slipped into his mind, unbidden but welcome. He wondered where they were out in the real world and if they would be celebrating the new millennium tonight, just as he was about to. The idea brought a small smile to his lips. He hoped they were safe and happy, wherever they might be. His former family still held a special place in his heart, a connection that time hadn't severed.
Was Carlisle still practicing medicine? Edward's mind drifted to the possibilities. Seventy years had passed—an eternity in the world of science. What new marvels had been discovered? What diseases had been conquered? It was beyond him to fathom the strides humanity had made while he was locked away.
Thinking of Esme, Edward wondered if she had found a passion in life similar to Carlisle's dedication to medicine. She had just finished her newborn year when he had left, and the world had been so new and wondrous to her, full of possibilities that she had been eager to explore. His smile grew as he imagined one day knocking on their front door, and seeing the look of utter shock on Carlisle's face as he opened it. Did they think him gone? Deceased? Had Aro ever informed them of what had happened to him? Edward doubted it. It seemed more likely that Edward Mason had simply vanished, another soul lost to the mysteries of the world, leaving no trace behind.
Edward thought about the world—a world that he knew was now long gone. In 1929, the United States was rapidly becoming, if not already, the dominant force on the global stage. The balance of power had shifted after the Great War, and Edward doubted that any country would challenge the United States as the leading world power. Back when he could still hear the minds of everyone around him, the overwhelming sentiment was one of boundless optimism. People believed life could only get better, and for those who weren't faring as well, Edward had tried to help in small ways, offering whatever support he could.
That had been the world of 1929, though, and everything had since changed. Edward wondered how the U.S. was faring now. Over the decades, he had caught only scant comments about the outside world, and only bits and pieces about his former home. He had heard about another great war in the 1940s—a conflict the U.S. had thankfully won. Decades later, a guard had made an offhand comment about a war in a place called Vietnam, a country Edward had never heard of. When he asked where Vietnam was, the guard had ignored him, but the way he had spoken made it sound like the U.S. had lost that war. Beyond that, the world and its recent history remained a mystery to him.
Edward didn't like to dwell on it, but the truth was unavoidable—every single human he had once known was now gone, their lives extinguished decades ago. Even the babies born in his time would now be in their twilight years. As one generation gave way to the next, decade after decade, Edward had to wonder: What was society like today? Did humans still hold to the same morals of his time, or had the passing decades reshaped them into something unrecognizable? He longed to find out, to step back into the world and see for himself.
Years ago, he had made a vow—a promise to himself that if he ever escaped this place, he would adapt to whatever world awaited him, no matter how much it had changed. That resolve was born from the last piece of advice Carlisle had ever given him before he left. Carlisle, ever wise, had seen the discontent festering within him, the way he struggled with his changed existence. Carlisle had urged him to live in the present, to embrace the moment rather than being shackled to the past. It had taken years for Edward to fully grasp the truth in those words, but by the time he did, it was too late. He had already been trapped in this hellhole for decades, with nothing but the echoes of his past and the weight of his unfulfilled promise.
Even as his mind drifted through its labyrinth of thoughts, the relentless precision of his vampire nature kept track of the passing moments. Seconds ticked off, each one marking the inevitable approach of midnight. As the final moments of the century slipped away, Edward counted them down silently. Five, four, three, two, one.
"Happy New Year," he spoke softly into the void, his voice barely breaking the heavy silence of his cell. Edward was far beyond wishing for anything at this point, but in honor of the new millennium, he allowed himself a rare hope—a fleeting, desperate wish that some coven, or even just one vampire, might stand up, find him, and rescue him from this endless nightmare.
December 31, 1999
Phoenix, Arizona
Harry Potter was staring at a werewolf! But it wasn't just any werewolf—it was his teacher, Professor Lupin.
Bella's eyes widened as she devoured the words on the page, her heart racing with excitement. She had just picked up The Prisoner of Azkaban from the library yesterday, and now she couldn't put it down.
But Bella's intense focus was suddenly interrupted by her mom's voice calling out from her bedroom, "Bella, are you all ready to go? Amber and her mother will be here soon to pick you up."
"All ready!" Bella yelled back, glancing down at herself. Yep, wearing clothes, she giggled before diving back into the book. Her favorite character was, of course, Hermione Granger. Bella liked to think they were alike—they were about the same age, and they both loved to read. She just had to figure out how to do all that witchcraft stuff. She smiled at the thought, her imagination running wild, just as her bedroom door burst open to reveal her mom.
"Bella!" Exasperation clear in her mom's voice. "I thought I told you to get dressed."
Bella frowned, genuinely confused. "I am dressed, Mom."
Renée heaved a sigh. "You're going to a party, sweetie. You should dress up. You're getting older, and trust me, you don't want to be the only girl there in shorts and a t-shirt. Why don't you put on that purple dress I got you? You look so cute in that one."
Bella scrunched her nose up in distaste; she hated wearing dresses. "Do I have to?"
"Yes!" Renée pointed at Bella's closet. "And be quick about it—Amber's mom said they'd be picking you up at six." With that, she breezed out of the room.
With a sigh, Bella placed her bookmark carefully between the pages so she wouldn't lose her spot. Maybe she could finish the book after the party. She hopped out of bed and reluctantly went to put on the dress.
As Bella walked into the living room, she caught sight of her mom admiring herself in the mirror. She was wearing a sparkly dress, though Bella couldn't help but notice there wasn't much dress to it—it barely covered her mom's legs.
Renée turned to Bella and smiled. "That's much better. Thank you, sweetheart. Now, don't forget your keys. Richard's picking me up while you'll be at the party. He's taking me to the concert at the park, and then we're going to watch the fireworks as we ring in the new year. Can you believe it, Bella? A new millennium!"
Bella thought about how strange it would be to write "20" instead of "19" whenever she did her homework from now on. "Yeah, cool," she muttered, not entirely sure what else to say.
"So I've already unplugged the TV and the computer. Please don't use them when you get home. I heard they might explode or something because of some bug. Do you think we should unplug the refrigerator too?" Renée asked, pulling out her lipstick and applying it with quick, practiced strokes, just in case Richard showed up early.
Bella glanced at the TV cord lying on the floor, a doubtful look crossing her face. She didn't understand why her mom believed those wild stories. They didn't make any sense to her. Her teacher had explained the whole Y2K thing to the class, and it just sounded crazy. "No, Mom, I think the refrigerator will be fine. I wouldn't worry about it, okay?" She watched as her mom continued putting on makeup. Bella was glad she didn't have to do that. In her opinion, her mom didn't need to either—she was pretty without all that stuff.
Settling onto the sofa, Bella let her thoughts drift to the fun she and her friends had had last year. She, Amber, and Chrissy had gone over to Sandy's house for a sleepover, and they had all stayed up late, laughing and talking in their sleeping bags, trying to see if they could make it past midnight. She hadn't managed to do it, dozing off at some point during the night. The next morning, Sandy had claimed that she'd done it, but Bella had her doubts. Why anyone would force themselves to stay awake when they could be sleeping was beyond her. She loved getting a good night's sleep.
Just then, the doorbell rang, and Bella hopped off the sofa, hurrying to the door. When she opened it, she found her friend Amber standing there and couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, seeing that Amber was wearing a dress too. She had been afraid she would be the only one.
"Hey, Bella! You ready to go?" Amber asked, smiling brightly. Bella glanced at her friend's red outfit, and when she looked down, her eyes widened in surprise as she noticed the heeled shoes. She knew she could never pull off something like that; she'd break her neck for sure.
"Hey, Amber. Yup, all ready." Bella turned to her mom, waving goodbye. "Later, Mom."
Bella and Amber headed outside and climbed into the back seat of Amber's mother's car. Bella was about to say hello when she noticed her mom walking over to the driver's side, where Amber's mom had just lowered the window.
"Thank you for driving Bella to the party. When she gets back, could you make sure she gets in the house okay? I doubt I'll be home by then," Renée said, bending down to peer into the car with a cheerful smile.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure Bella gets in safely," Amber's mom replied.
"Thanks! Have fun, girls," Renée said, waving to them before turning back toward the house.
Just as Bella was about to say hello to Amber's mom, she noticed her shaking her head, a frown on her face as she watched her mom walk back into the house. Bella wondered briefly what that was about but shrugged it off. "Hello, Mrs. Johnson."
Amber's mom turned back to her with a smile. "Hello, Bella. You girls ready to have a fun night?"
Both she and Amber nodded as Mrs. Johnson pulled the car out onto the road.
As they made their way to Sandy's house, Bella and Amber chatted about the TV shows they'd been watching lately.
"Did you see last week's episode of Buffy? It was so good! No one could talk, and they all had to use their hands instead. It was so funny!" Amber said, giggling.
"Ah, I missed that one," Bella replied, smiling politely. She didn't really like Buffy and only watched it when she was with her friends. The vampires just didn't seem realistic, plus aside from the Harry Potter books, she'd never been much into the supernatural stuff. Her thoughts drifted back to her book, and soon she and Amber were talking about the series. Amber hadn't read the third book yet, so Bella was eager to tell her how good it was. She couldn't help but wish they'd make a Harry Potter TV show or maybe even a movie. Now that was something she'd definitely watch.
Soon, they arrived at Sandy's house, which was the biggest of all of her friends'. As Bella and Amber stepped out of the car, they waved goodbye to Amber's mom, who drove away as they walked up to the house. The front door was already open, and Bella could hear a lot of commotion coming from inside, sparking her curiosity about what might be going on.
The moment they stepped inside, Bella was surprised to find the house packed with people. It looked like Sandy had invited their entire class. She spotted Sandy chatting with Chrissy and a group of other girls and gave her a quick wave.
"Bella, Amber, come on in! The party's just getting started!" Sandy called out, her voice full of excitement.
Bella and Amber joined their friends, the group quickly falling into easy conversation, their laughter mixing with the steady hum of excitement that filled the room.
As the minutes ticked by and no new arrivals appeared, Sandy suddenly broke away from the group. Bella watched as she made her way to the stereo player at the side of the room, turning it on and cranking up the volume until the music filled every corner. Bella felt the vibrations under her feet, the noise almost too loud for comfort.
Then, to her surprise, Sandy walked straight over to Nathan, who was standing with a group of boys by the wall. After a brief conversation, Sandy grabbed his hand and pulled him to the center of the living room. It was then that Bella noticed all the furniture had been pushed to the edges, leaving a large, empty space in the middle. And before she could even process what was happening, Sandy and Nathan started dancing.
Bella didn't know what to make of this sudden shift. One moment, they had all been laughing and talking, and the next, her group of friends had scattered, each one seeking out a partner to dance with. She stood there, frozen, as confusion and uncertainty washed over her. She didn't know how to dance, and honestly, she had never really been interested in it—especially not with a boy. In her eyes, boys were rather childish and annoying.
As a Britney Spears song blared through the speakers, Bella looked around, feeling increasingly out of place. Everyone seemed to be dancing now, either paired off with a boy or grouped together in clusters. The energy in the room had shifted, leaving her feeling like she didn't belong.
Unsure of what to do, she quietly retreated to a chair that had been pushed off to the corner of the room, hoping no one would notice her sitting there alone.
Bella watched everyone laughing, having a good time. She wanted that too—wanted to join in. But the more she thought about getting up and dancing, the more her stomach started to feel funny, like she'd eaten something bad. She didn't understand why, but the idea of joining the others was making her feel nervous. She looked down, afraid tears might start to escape.
Then she heard someone clear their throat in front of her.
"Hey, Bella. Do you want to dance?"
Bella looked up, surprised, to see Adam standing there. They had recently teamed up for an English project, and now he was looking at her, waiting for an answer.
Did she want to dance? Bella wasn't sure. She didn't know how. She glanced at her friends in the other room, trying to muster the courage she wasn't sure she had. "Okay," she said, her voice hesitant.
She stood up and took a step, but somehow, her feet tangled beneath her. Before she could catch herself, she stumbled forward, her shoulder slammed into Adam's shin, sending him toppling over too. Bella's face flushed with embarrassment as she braced herself for the sound of laughter, but, to her relief, it seemed no one had noticed.
Getting on her knees, she glanced over at Adam, who was also scrambling to his feet. "Ah, I'm sorry, Adam. I think maybe dancing isn't for me. Maybe some other time," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. She stood up quickly, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, and hurried to the kitchen, skirting the edges of the room to avoid the dancers completely.
Once she reached the kitchen, she sank into a chair, trying to calm herself down. She was finding it hard to breathe, something that sometimes happened when she got nervous. She took a deep breath, trying to relax.
Bella stayed in the kitchen for a while, flipping through a cookbook she found on the counter. The pages were filled with colorful pictures of cakes and cookies, but she wasn't really paying attention to the recipes. It was just something to distract her from the noise coming from the other room.
After some time, the back door opened, and Sandy's father walked in, balancing a large stack of pizza boxes in his arms.
"Hello there, Bella," he said with a warm smile as he set the pizzas down on the kitchen table.
"Hello, Mr. Reynolds," Bella replied.
"Are you okay, Bella?" Mr. Reynolds asked gently, his brow furrowed with concern. Bella quickly looked up, forced a smile, and nodded.
"Okay," he said slowly, still watching her closely. Finally, he turned, opening the door that led to the living and dining rooms, and called out, "Pizza's here!"
Almost immediately, the music stopped, and everyone seemed to rush into the kitchen, eagerly grabbing slices of pizza. Bella found herself smiling, this time for real, as she took a slice and rejoined the conversation with her friends.
Having already made dinner for herself earlier, Bella wasn't really hungry, so one slice was more than enough. As the pizza boxes gradually emptied, many of her friends drifted back to the other rooms. Chrissy, however, stayed behind, and they chatted about their plans for the next vacation break. Their conversation was soon interrupted by Amber, who burst into the kitchen with the biggest grin on her face.
"Chrissy, Bella," she whispered excitedly, "come on, follow me."
They quickly followed Amber, who led them down to the basement where Sandy's playroom was. Reaching the bottom of the steps, Bella's eyes widened as she took in the scene—a large circle of their friends sitting on the carpet, all eyes on Sandy as she crawled over to the other side, where she kissed Mark quickly on the lips before retreating back to her side while everyone giggled.
Beside her, Chrissy squealed with excitement and quickly joined the circle, sitting down and glancing back at Bella, who remained frozen near the stairway. "Come on, Bella. This will be fun!"
But Bella just stood there, her heart racing. She watched in silence as Adam spun the bottle, and when it stopped, he went over to kiss Lisa. The room somehow felt like it was getting smaller, and once again, she felt like it was getting harder to breathe. She didn't feel ready for any of this—not the dancing, and definitely not the kissing. She had just wanted to have a fun night with her friends.
Chrissy was still staring at her, waiting. All Bella could do was shake her head silently. Chrissy frowned but quickly turned her attention back to the game. It was her turn, and after spinning the bottle, she giggled and moved to kiss Mark, too.
Bella was just about to go back to the kitchen when she heard someone clear their throat behind her.
"Knock it off, everyone. You're all far too young to be doing stuff like this. Come on, upstairs. That's it, let's go, and stay where either I or Sandy's mom can keep an eye on you," Mr. Reynolds said, his tone firm but with a hint of amusement. When Bella glanced up at him, she saw he was smiling, his eyes twinkling with a mix of sternness and good humor.
"Dad! Come on, we're adults!" Sandy protested, her voice rising with a mixture of indignation and embarrassment.
Her father only huffed in response, shaking his head. "Hardly." He crossed his arms as he surveyed the group. "Come on, guys. Upstairs. Now."
There was a collective groan from the circle, but one by one, everyone began to stand, a few giggling nervously as they filed past Mr. Reynolds, who stood by the stairs, ushering them back up. After everyone had gone, Bella followed too, not understanding the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Back in the living room, Bella sank into her chair, feeling a little ill. The lively chatter and laughter around her seemed distant. She didn't really feel like staying, but there was nothing she could do until Amber's mom came to pick them up. Her friends tried to talk with her, their voices bright and cheerful, but Bella found it hard to muster much enthusiasm. She offered half-hearted smiles and nods, but something inside her just felt off, like a dull ache she couldn't quite place. She just felt bad.
Later that night, Amber's mom finally arrived to drive them home.
"Thanks for the ride. I'll see you at school, Amber," Bella muttered as she got out of the car. The cool night air hit her face but did nothing to lift her spirits as she began to walk toward her house. She heard Amber call out a cheerful goodbye as she reached the front door and let herself in.
Once she was inside, Bella heard Amber's mother drive away, the sound of the car fading into the distance. The house was dark and quiet, as if an emptiness had settled in all around her. "Mom?" she called out, though she already knew the answer. The house was clearly empty. Glancing at the wall clock, she saw that it was almost 10:00.
Bella walked slowly to her room, and after slipping off her sneakers, she climbed onto her bed. Her eyes drifted to the Harry Potter book on her bedside table, but she just didn't have it in her to read. As she stared at it, tears began to well up in her eyes, and as the emotions of the night overwhelmed her, she rolled over, crying herself to sleep.
Poor Bella. Her childhood wasn't easy. Socially, she always lagged a few years behind her friends, struggling to interact in ways that came naturally to everyone else. Thankfully, by the time she reached college, she had mostly found her footing—but, of course, that's when life threw her another curveball…
Neither Bella nor Edward had the best New Year's, but at least Edward's wish will eventually come true. He'll just have to wait a little while longer, as 12-year-old Bella certainly isn't the savior he was praying for... yet.
As always, comments are appreciated. In the next chapter, a much more mature and confident Bella heads back to college.
We're getting closer: T-minus 3 chapters until Bella & Edward! And I promise, no more sad chapters—that was the last one. All fun, action, and excitement from here on out, and eventually some more 'Fun Fun Happy Time' chapters, which are sorely needed for Bella & Edward.