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The Trigger

A single shot goes off, and, though she doesn't know it yet, her life is about to change for eternity. One-Shot.

This is my first attempt at writing in the 3rd person point of view, ever. I'm a little nervous about how it turned out.

1. Chapter 1

Rating 3.3/5   Word Count 759   Review this Chapter

“Bella?” Renee said softly to her fifteen, nearly sixteen year old daughter. The mother stood at the door to her daughter’s small but comfortable room. At a small wooden desk in the corner sat the person whose opinion she wanted so badly, but was dreading. She was nervous; Bella was always very mature for her age, but she couldn’t handle change very well. Her mother’s dating was never a problem; though between Renee’s scatterbrained personality and her taste in men, Bella never had a reason to worry about it becoming serious.

The mousy girl looked up from the algebra homework she had spent hours struggling over. Her chocolate brown hair fell into her face, and she quickly tucked it behind her ear. “Yes, mom?” she said, wondering what had her mother so anxious.

“Bella– Bella, I need to– I need to talk to you about something.” The young girl nodded, gears turning in her head, trying to figure out what was wrong. Was it her grandmother? She hadn’t been in good health lately. Was she okay? Or was it Charlie? She hadn’t seen or talked to her father in a while, and though they weren’t close, she cared for him deeply. Her thoughts were frantic, and her heartbeat sped up. She couldn’t help but fear the worst. She nodded to her mother, desperate to know but afraid of what she would say.

“Okay. Okay. Um, Bella, you know Phil, of course?” Renee turned to her daughter, whose face was twisted in confusion. The young girl nodded, and her mother stepped in from the doorway and sat down on the perfectly made bed beneath the window.

‘I just need to get it over with,’ thought Renee. ‘Bella will understand; she always does.’ She looked away from her daughter and back around to her. They locked eyes, and a tense silence filled the room. No one spoke for what seemed like hours, not until the air was so heavy that the fifteen year old couldn’t stand it.

“Mom? Mom, really, what is it? I can handle it, really. And don’t just blow me off and say it’s nothing; I can tell something’s bothering you. It’s written all over your face.” She crossed her arms and turned her chair so that her body was open to her mother. She wanted to know, and she would make her mother tell.

Renee sighed; she knew that her daughter needed to know, and know as soon as was possible. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the phone ringing. She reached for the old, corded phone that was kept in her daughter’s room.

“Hello?” she questioned, despite the fact that she knew who was calling. “Hey, Phil.” A pause. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” She switched the hand she was holding the phone with, and a small diamond glittered on her finger.

Bella had never seen her mother wear that ring before; she had never seen it in her mother’s jewelry box. It had to be new. But her mother hadn’t been shopping recently, not without her. The only time she had been out in the past few days was for her date, with Phil. Did Phil give her the ring? Logically, it was the only explanation. But she couldn’t come up with a reason for Phil giving her a ring; for any man giving her a ring, unless they were–

It hit her like a ton of bricks. Her mother was engaged. Betrothed. Getting married. To Phil. Phil, the baseball player. Phil, the baseball player who was 7 years younger than her mother. Sure, her mother was nuts about Phil, and he made her happy, but Bella never expected it to work out. She hadn’t even realized that she’d closed her eyes until she opened them to look at her mom. She was smiling, laughing, holding the phone closely to her as if it were her– her fiancé. Bella’s eyes fixated on her mother’s ring.

Renee said goodbye and turned back to her daughter. She looked to her daughter, and opened her mouth to speak her mind. She looked to her daughter’s face and realized that she had no need to speak. The fifteen-year-old’s mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’, and her eyes were locked on the simple golden band that lay on her finger.

Bella looked up and looked into the eyes of her mother, trying to figure out if her theory was really true. When Renee nodded, the shot went off, changing, changing, changing the lives of so many