The ride to Bella's house was a delightful mix of laughter and snorts, punctuated by Dad's relentless barrage of dad jokes. His repertoire of puns and corny one-liners, freshly unearthed from online forums or shared by friends, kept the car filled with a warm, contagious energy. I tried to stifle my laughter, covering my mouth in a vain attempt to avoid the snorting fits that seemed inevitable. Each joke, no matter how lame, had me chuckling and gasping for breath.
"I think this is it," I managed to cough out, wincing as my ribs ached from the laughter.
Bella's red Chevy was parked in the driveway, the dent from the accident now a stark, unwelcome reminder of what could have happened. The sight twisted my stomach into tight knots, and I fought to keep my mind from drifting to darker thoughts.
Dad parked the car and turned his full attention to me, his eyes still sparkling with the mirth of jokes yet to be shared. "Call us if you start feeling sick, okay? And don't stay out too late at Isabella's. Be home before 8." His tone was a blend of concern and the lingering amusement of a comic performance.
I checked the time on the car's dashboard and internally rolled my eyes. "I'll call if I need anything and I'll be sure to be home before eight," I promised half-heartedly, already tuning out his well-meaning but repetitive advice.
Dad gave me a small, reassuring smile before I shut the door behind me. To my surprise, he didn't drive off immediately; instead, he remained parked, his gaze fixed on me as I walked toward Bella's front door.
Bella's house was charmingly quirky, with white wooden siding and dark gray trim that complemented each other perfectly. It had an inviting, lived-in feel that contrasted sharply with the sterile perfection of newer homes. As I turned to look over my shoulder, I saw Dad still watching, his anxious concern palpable. I gave him a quick wave, and he responded with a final, reassuring wave before driving off.
The chilly air hit me immediately as I stepped out, the dark wool cardigan I wore doing little to preserve the warmth I'd gathered in the car. Just as I was about to shiver, Bella appeared at the door, her face lighting up with a welcoming smile. She gestured for me to come inside, and I hurried in, casting a final thumbs-up at my retreating father.
Bella closed the door behind me, and I could finally relax, feeling the cozy warmth of her home envelop me as I crossed the threshold. Bella greeted me with a small, reassuring smile as she helped me drop my bag onto the couch. Her laptop and a scattered array of notebooks were already spread out on the coffee table, hinting at an impending study session. The room was warm and cozy, with the soft glow of lamps casting a gentle light over the living room.
"About the accident..." I winced, grappling with how to broach the subject. The weight of the question hung heavy, and I struggled to find the right words. If I didn't ask now, I knew I might never get another chance.
Bella, ever the considerate host, had retreated to the kitchen to fetch us water bottles. I took a seat on the couch, arranging my things on the coffee table, trying to mentally prepare for the conversation. Bella returned and settled next to me, her presence comforting. She crossed her legs, and I could see her chewing on her lower lip, clearly weighing her response.
"What about it?" Bella asked, her voice gentle but tinged with an edge of curiosity.
I took a sip from the bottle she handed me, savoring the cool relief. "Did something happen? You mentioned Edward being there." The words felt awkward, as if the topic itself was a tightrope I was trying to walk.
Bella's eyes sparkled with a hint of something unreadable as she took her seat beside me. She seemed to hesitate, her gaze dropping to her lap as she considered her next words. "Do you remember where Edward was before Tyler lost control of his car?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I raised an eyebrow, puzzled by her choice to answer my question with another question. "He was across the parking lot, wasn't he?" I ventured, the uncertainty in my voice evident.
Bella shook her head slowly, a gesture that seemed to hold a deeper meaning. She raised a hand, signaling me to pause. "Yes, we both saw him across the parking lot. But when Tyler's car almost crushed us—he was there."
I shook my head, a skeptical smile playing on my lips. "No, that's not possible. He—" I stopped abruptly, a wave of fragmented memories crashing over me. Despite my assurances to my parents that I couldn't recall the details of the accident, fragments of that harrowing moment lingered vividly in my mind. I remembered the chilling touch on my face, the mysterious, deep voice that had spoken to me in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. It was a voice I couldn't quite forget—neither harsh nor uninviting, but undeniably profound. Bella's big brown eyes stayed fixed on me, unwavering and earnest.
"He was," she said softly, her tone carrying an edge of certainty. "I don't know how, but he was with us." Her words struck a chord deep within me, resonating with the fragmented memories I had kept hidden.
The realization settled heavily in the room between us, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather outside. Bella's admission added a layer of mystery to the accident, one that I couldn't ignore. Bella gave me a grin, her tense shoulders relaxing as the conversation shifted to the car accident. She seemed to be shedding the weight of her anxiety, her body language more open and at ease.
"That's what I was trying to say," she began, her voice softening. "I mentioned it to him—Edward." I straightened, my interest piqued.
"What did he say? Did he explain how he was there?" I pressed, eager for answers.
Bella shook her head, a few dark strands of hair slipping free from her ponytail and framing her face. "He made excuses and tried to tell me I had no idea what I was talking about. He even said, 'Nobody would believe me,' which I wasn't planning to tell anyone—but..." She paused, locking eyes with me.
The unspoken understanding between us was palpable.'She wasn't going to tell anyone but me,'I realized, nudging her gently with my shoulder in a gesture of gratitude for her trust.
"You can trust me. I won't tell a soul," I assured her, the weight of our mutual secrecy settling comfortably between us.
Bella's smile widened, a spark of relief flickering in her eyes. It was as if we had both just recognized something fundamental about our friendship—something that had always been there but was now undeniably clear.
"What about you?" she asked suddenly, her voice carrying a note of concern. I blinked, momentarily confused.
"What about me?" I asked, crossing one leg over the other and shifting my focus back to her. Bella gestured with her chin toward the thick journals that had fallen out of my bag. They lay scattered on the floor, their worn covers hinting at their age.
The idea of revealing the contents of these journals to Bella felt intensely personal, but her raised eyebrow and the thin line of her lips indicated she wouldn't let the matter drop until I relented. With a resigned sigh, I reached for the first journal.
"These are journals that my grandmother—my mom's mom—kept until she passed away. I sort of...borrowed them from the boxes they were stored in and found some things." I hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "I can't explain everything, but some of it sounds...like a warning or something important." I shrugged, my explanation falling short as I too was uncertain about the journals' full meaning.
Bella's eyes followed the journals as if they held secrets just waiting to be uncovered. She looked at me, silently asking for permission to examine the contents. I nodded, taking another sip of my water bottle as she began flipping through the pages.
After a few moments, Bella handed the notebook back to me. "They sound..." She hesitated, searching for a term that wouldn't be too harsh but would accurately convey her thoughts.
"Deranged?" I suggested, my tone light despite the seriousness of the subject.
Bella's cheeks flushed slightly, a quick smile escaping her lips. "Yes," she said, the word fitting perfectly. "Deranged is exactly the right word to describe what I read." The acknowledgment was a bittersweet confirmation of the unsettling nature of the journals, yet it also underscored the bond of trust and understanding we had forged.
The journals were definitely on the eccentric side. I smirked, breaking the tension with a casual shrug. "What can I say? Every family has at least one crazy person."
Bella snorted, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she tried to stifle a laugh. The sound was infectious, and soon I was chuckling along with her. Once we had both calmed down, we shifted our focus to the latest gossip swirling around school.
"A dance?" I wrinkled my nose in distaste, feeling a wave of resignation wash over me. It was inevitable.'Mom's going to sink her claws into me for sure,'I thought bitterly.
Every dance before had been met with a well-crafted excuse, but this time I knew, deep down, that my usual tactics would fail. Mom was all too aware of my aversion and was ready to corner me.
The thought of her getting her hands on me made my skin prickle with unease. Although Angela had become her preferred model, Mom's long-standing dream was to have a photo of the two of us dressed up in stunning gowns. She had always lamented the absence of such a picture, and after the recent brush with danger, she was determined not to miss her chance. Goosebumps crept down my back at the thought of her relentless pursuit.
Bella fidgeted with a stray strand of fabric from her sleeve. "Unfortunately," she sighed, leaning her head back on the couch, her eyes reflecting the weight of her words. "I hate dancing as much as any other uncoordinated person." I stifled a laugh, finding her aversion endearing yet relatable.
I loved dancing, but the high-school dance scene, with its flashy outfits, posed for photos, and sugary punch, didn't appeal to me. I was a klutz, but not as hopelessly uncoordinated as Bella seemed to think.
"What about you?" she asked, her eyes peering up with curiosity. "Are you going to go?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "I enjoy dancing, just not school dances. If I could, I'd avoid them altogether."
Bella sat up straight, her interest piqued. "I never knew you could dance."
A warm blush crept up my cheeks at the sudden spotlight. I basked in the attention, even though only Angela and a few close family members knew of my dancing skills. "I dabble here and there," I replied modestly, not wanting to boast. Bella's face lit up with an approving nod. "You?"
Bella groaned playfully, taking a sip of her water as she mulled over her past. "I did ballet back in Arizona. My mom practically dragged me into it. I swear, I was terrible, but she kept pushing me to stick with it a little longer."
I couldn't help but imagine Bella as a tiny ballerina, twirling in a tutu. "That sounds adorable," I said, laughing. "I can just picture you in a tutu." Bella's smile widened, and she playfully nudged me.
"Oh, it was pretty cute, I guess. But trust me, I was all flailing limbs and missed steps." The shared laughter and easy banter made the prospect of the upcoming dance seem a bit less daunting. As we continued to reminisce about our childhoods, I couldn't help but notice that Bella had always been fiercely stubborn, a trait she hadn't outgrown. Her relentless probing into Edward and his family's peculiarities was proof of that.
I scrunched my nose in mild irritation. We had retreated to her room after her father returned earlier than expected. In a rush to avoid his curious gaze while we poured over articles about superhuman strength and speed, we had fled from the living room and sought refuge in her cozy yet cramped bedroom.
"I don't think Edward was experimented on," I said, trying to offer some reassurance as I adjusted myself on the pillow Bella had kindly lent me. We lay side by side, our eyes fixed on the laptop screen illuminated by the soft glow of its display.
Bella was undeterred. "You never know. I mean, his dad is a doctor." Her quick-witted observation brought a smile to my face.
I mentally noted,'A hot one,'before clearing my throat to continue. "Yes, he is a doctor, but I seriously doubt he would experiment on his own children, even if they are adopted. Have you seen them? They all look impeccably well taken care of. And their mom—she's too genuinely sweet to be involved in anything sinister."
Bella's expression remained resolute, her brows furrowed in thought. She was determined to find an explanation, and no amount of logic seemed to sway her. I sighed, conceding to her stubbornness as she read aloud significant excerpts from our research, fervently highlighting points she believed could shed light on Edward's enigmatic situation.
"I think we should call it a night," I suggested, rising from the pillow and stretching my arms above my head. The view from her window revealed the encroaching darkness outside, a reminder of how late it had grown. I felt a pang of discomfort, knowing I wouldn't be at ease until I was back with my parents.
Bella nodded reluctantly, closing the laptop and tucking it away with a sigh. Her room, though snug and cluttered with the trappings of teenage life, was a comforting cocoon compared to the unsettling mysteries we had been unraveling.
Bella seemed to realize the time as she grabbed her phone. "Yeah," she murmured, yawning. "Let me give you a ride." I thanked her as we headed towards the front of the house. As we approached the living room, Sheriff Swan's voice startled me.
"Where do you think you ladies are going?" I flinched, clutching my bag tightly to my chest as if to shield myself. My face flushed for a brief moment before a wave of relief washed over me. Sheriff Swan was lounging lazily on the couch, his eyes glued to the television screen. Yet, the quick glances he threw our way indicated he was acutely aware of our movements.
"I'm taking El home," Bella muttered, grabbing her jacket from the rack. Her dad nodded, his gaze shifting between us before a grin spread across his face.
"Be careful out there, the roads are wet. I don't want another phone call abou—" He stopped mid-sentence, realizing Bella wasn't comfortable with his rambling.
I offered a small smile. "Thanks for the heads up. It was nice seeing you." I shuffled towards the front door, giving Bella some much-needed privacy with her dad as she muttered something under her breath. Quietly, so as not to disturb their conversation, I stepped outside.
The chilly night air nipped at my skin, making me wish I had grabbed a warmer jacket. The sound of rain pattering softly against the pavement added to the stillness of the night. Although it was chilly, it wasn't windy, nor was it sprinkling, which was a good thing in my book. I took in the quietness of the yard, mindlessly walking to Bella's truck. The dent on it still stood out like a sore thumb, an ugly reminder of what could have happened to both of us.
My stomach churned, but not at the thought of being flattened into a pancake. I felt a ghostly sensation skim the back of my neck, as if I were being watched. In that moment, I should have walked my scrawny butt back into Bella's home, but I couldn't—wouldn't. As if taunting death in the face, I foolishly looked around, hoping to find what was watching me.
My throat went dry, and my heart plummeted to my stomach. A flash of red—that's all I needed to see to realize it wasn't a "what." The vivid dream of the redhead I had seen wasn't just a dream.
"You okay?" Bella's voice startled me, breaking the silence. I flinched, both out of fear and the unexpectedness of her coming to my rescue.'Or to our funerals,'I thought grimly, once again scanning the woods to see if it was my imagination or if the redheaded monster truly did lurk around.
"I'm fine," I replied, though my voice betrayed my unease. Bella's eyes narrowed as she followed my gaze into the darkness. The trees stood tall and foreboding, their branches swaying slightly in the gentle breeze.
"Are you sure?" she asked, stepping closer and placing a reassuring hand on my arm. Her touch was warm, grounding me back to reality.
"Yeah," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Just thought I saw something. Probably nothing." Bella frowned but didn't push further. Instead, she unlocked the truck and we both climbed in. The familiar, musty smell of the old vehicle provided a small comfort.
As Bella started the engine, the rumble of the truck seemed to chase away some of my lingering fears. As we drove away, I couldn't help but glance back at the yard, half-expecting to see a pair of glowing eyes staring back at me. The night was still and silent, but the image of the redhead was burned into my mind. I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts away.
"Sorry about earlier," Bella said, breaking the silence as we turned onto the main road. "Dad can be a bit... overprotective."
I laughed softly, the sound helping to ease the tension. "It's okay. My parents are the same way. Guess that's just part of being a parent."
Bella smiled, her eyes focused on the road. "Yeah, I suppose. Still, it can be a bit much sometimes." We fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the truck and the patter of raindrops on the roof creating a soothing backdrop.
As we neared my house, I felt a strange mix of relief and anxiety. The safety of home was comforting, but the memory of the redhead haunted me. The truck came to a stop in front of my house, and I unbuckled my seatbelt, turning to Bella with a grateful smile.
"Thanks for the ride." I said.
Bella's eyes softened, and she smiled warmly. "Anytime, El. I'll keep you updated if I find anything."
I blinked, momentarily confused by her comment before realizing she was referring to Edward and the secrets he seemed to be hiding. I gave a small, appreciative smile and nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."
As soon as I slammed the door shut, I sprinted to the front door, my heart racing not just from the chill in the air but from the anticipation of facing my mom. Through the frosted window, I could see her standing with her arms crossed, her hair wild and frizzy, making her look even more formidable. Her nose was scrunched up in disapproval, and her lips were a thin, tight line. Despite her stern exterior, her hazel eyes shimmered with a deep, underlying worry.
The moment I stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloped me, but it did nothing to ease the tension.
Mom's gaze was unyielding as she met me in the hallway. "Why did you leave the house?" she demanded, her tone sharp and accusatory. It was clear that Dad had already relayed the news of my outing to Bella's. I hesitated, caught between the desire to explain myself and the knowledge that my mom was in no mood for explanations.
"Get inside, right now, El," she said, stepping aside to let me pass. I slipped out of my shoes quickly, trying to minimize any further conflict. "You should be home resting, not going out to Bella's. She couldn't come here? Is she the one with a concussion?!" Mom's voice was a mix of frustration and concern, her words coming out in a rapid fire of indignation. I knew from experience that the best way to handle Mom's rants was to stay calm and let her voice her concerns.
Still, I was equally stubborn. "I'm fine, Mom. It's been a few days of lessons I missed, and Bella offered to help me catch up. Besides, we both know I'm cleared to study for one day out of the house. If there were any serious risks, wouldn't they have shown up by now?"
Mom's eyes narrowed, her frustration palpable. "You know very well, El. I've told you many times to stay home and rest. Dr. Cullen instructed you to take time off from school, and that includes going out to study. Honestly!"
I rolled my eyes, knowing she was exaggerating Dr. Cullen's advice. Arguing further would only escalate her rant. "You're right," I said, my voice resigned. We were standing in front of the door to Ang's and my shared room.
Mom's gaze softened slightly, but her concern remained evident. She placed her hands gently on my face, examining me as though I might have picked up an injury from my excursion. "Take a shower and go to bed. I have half a mind to call you out of school," she said, her voice softer but still firm. I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off before I could say a word. "Your dad convinced me otherwise, so count your blessings. If you ignore me again, I'll ground you until the end of time."
I swallowed my protest, knowing that Mom was not kidding. Her stern look was enough to silence any further arguments. I simply nodded, accepting my fate. As I trudged into the room, I could feel her gaze still burning into my back. I knew better than to push my luck with her, so I kept quiet, feeling the weight of her disappointment and concern.
The lingering fear of the red-headed monster that had haunted my thoughts earlier evaporated as I focused on preparing for bed, my mind now fully occupied with trying to avoid further inciting my mom's anger. The chilling image of that mysterious figure, once so vivid and unsettling, was now wiped clean from my memory. As if it never happened.