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An Unheard Whisper

Sienne is a high-class, high-maintenance girl who lives and fights in the fast paced fashion industry. So what happens when she suddenly finds herself in the relatively calm and unstylish place of Forks, Washington? Read and find out! (Enticing isn't it?) Jacob/OC


3. Chapter 3

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1901   Review this Chapter

There was a crushing, overwhelming feeling that consumed my whole body. It was the feeling of being thrown up against a dashboard at seventy miles per hour. It was the feeling of having your ribs crushed and hearing the sickening snap of your leg break. The feeling of being too drunk with alcohol and pain to even see if your friends were okay. The feeling of hearing the paramedics say, “It’s too late for this one,” and wondering if it was you they were talking about. Then wishing it was you as the pain came in new waves. Then blackness.

“They were intoxicated…”

“It’s too late for this one…”

“Three fatalities, one survivor…”

I woke up gasping for air. Tears and sweat mixed as the paralyzing horror continued to suffocate me. Darkness continued to surround me, as if my nightmare continued on into reality.

Why that dream? Why tonight?

Gradually I began to regain control of my limbs. I sat up slowly. Unclenching my white fists I shakily wiped my face.

It had been a very long time since I had had the particular nightmare. I had tried to push it back these past two years. Throwing myself into my work and practically isolating myself from anyone who wanted to be friends. I could not have friends. I would not grow that close to someone again and then loose them.

A groan escaped my lips. Something must’ve triggered this memory. What had it been?

My eyes began to adjust to lack of light. I was encircled by poor and unstylish surroundings. A seemingly ancient TV stared blankly across from the small couch I was on, the tiny room opened up into an even smaller kitchen. Small and ugly.

That was right. I was in the Call’s living room, sleeping on their couch, because my coworkers dumped me…

A new flood of tears escaped down my cheeks as an overpowering feeling of abandonment and anger crushing me. Bowing my head I wrapped my arms around my torso. Involuntarily sobs wracked my body. This was what had triggered my nightmare.

“Are you ok?” a deep voice asked.

I jumped and began searching the darkness for the person who had spoken. A tall shape stood by the front door, behind the couch. Funny, I hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“Sorry,” the voice said, walking closer, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I quickly tried to wipe the tears from my face, but they just kept coming. Finally I managed to sniff, “You didn’t scare me.”

“Right. Are you feeling ok?” he asked somewhat awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“No,” I said, inhaling deeply, “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said, “I’m, Embry, by the way, Daniel’s nephew.”

“Oh. I’m Sienne Parks,” I told him running my hand through my wild hair.

“Yeah, I guessed that,” he smiled.

I let a small laugh and smiled a little too.

“I’m sorry your friends left you,” he said, killing the mood, “That really sucks. I would be pissed if my friends did that.”

My smile was replaced by an annoyed frown. “Don’t talk to me about that.”

“Oh,” he said in realization, “That’s why you were crying.”

“That is not why I was crying,” I lied, “And I wasn’t crying.”

“Yeah yeah,” he muttered walking towards the hallway that I assumed led to the bedrooms, “You should probably go back to sleep. Its only 2:30.”

I slouched back angrily, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He chuckled lightly, “You’re lucky my dad doesn’t get offended easily.”

I stayed silent.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Whatever,” I grumbled.

As I settled back into my makeshift bed the emotional exhaustion I felt made me slip back into sleep.


Muted light filtered through the small window above the kitchen sink. It wasn’t the same bright light I was used to waking up to in L.A. I groaned, pushing myself up. My muscles were extremely sore from trying to cram my tall frame on the small love seat.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

I turned quickly to see a short, slender woman looking at me from the old stove in the kitchen. She was dark skinned and had long black hair, like mine. Daniel had told me he was part of the Quileute tribe. I was assuming his sister was also Native American.

“Sorry I slept so long,” I said, guessing that morning greetings were not coming, “I’m not used to waking up with out the sun.”

She nodded and smiled slightly. Turning back to whatever she had on the stove she asked, “Did you sleep well?”

I shrugged and gave a simple , “Yeah.” I didn’t want to tell her about my nightmare, that was, of course if Embry hadn’t already. I also thought saying that her couch was the most uncomfortable thing I had ever slept on might seem rude.


There was an awkward silence. I stood up and stretched. “What time is it?”

“10:15,” she said over her shoulder.

“Oh wow,” I muttered, “I never sleep past 7.”

She shrugged, “You had a late night.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t remember your name…”

“Its Connie,” she told me.

“Oh, right,” I said, “I remember now.”

“Would you like some breakfast? Or would you like to take a shower first?”

“I’ll eat,” I said, finally heeding my stomach that had been complaining for sometime.

“Alright, then,” she said, “I have eggs right here. Would you like some toast?”

“No, thanks,” I said.

“Okay.” She began scooping scrambled eggs out of the pan on the stove and placing them on a plastic plate.

I pulled out a chair at the small round table and sat down. Moments later Connie placed the plate in front of me. At least it was low fat, I thought.

“And I’m guessing there’s no café nearby,” I stated.

She raised her eyebrows in answer.

“Didn’t think so,” I sighed, “How you survive?”

“Oh we live on somehow,” She smiled.

I began to eat and Connie began dishes.

“Thank you,” I said awkwardly (thank you’s were not my specialty), “For letting me stay here and all.”

“You’re welcome,” she said as if she had been expecting that for awhile.

This was a strange world I was now in.


After I took a shower I took my time blow drying and styling my hair. I was glad I had had the foresight to put my toiletry bag in my purse. However, I was stuck wearing the same clothes for a week. Luckily the particular outfit I had worn would allow at least three different combinations. Connie offered to wash my clothes, but everything had to be dry cleaned. Except for my jeans and blue tank top, for which I gave her strict instructions on handling.

After I applied a fresh coat of makeup I opted to leave off my crème colored silk blouse and just wear the tank with my brown blazer.

I wandered back to the living room, where I found the blankets I slept with neatly folded. Sighing I sat down. I probably should have done that, I thought with frustration.

At home I had people to fold my blankets. At home I had people catering to my every need and whim. This place was all upside down and out of order to me.

Behind me I heard the door open and close. Turning around I saw Embry walking towars the hallway, rubbing his eyes. In the light he seemed much taller, taller than me probably. He only wore cut off jeans so his well toned torso was visible.

He didn’t seem to notice me and I was not one to go unnoticed.

“Where’s your mom?” I asked shortly.

He startled and spun to face me. Once his eyes focused on me he visibly relaxed, “Oh. Its you.”

“Yeah,” I said pointedly, “Who else would it be?”

He waved his hand and continued towards the hall.

“Wait,” I said, standing up, “Where’s Connie?”

“Work,” he said over his shoulder.

Huh. She left me here alone… well until Embry had come back. Either the Call’s were really confident in me or whatever security they had. Of course, I thought, there isn’t really anything worth stealing.

Embry continued, undaunted, to his bedroom.

“Hold on,” I said quickly.

He halted, annoyed. “What?” he groaned.

I swallowed the harsh retort and went on with my original question, “What about the car?”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled, “Its outside.”

“Has your friend started working on it yet?” I asked as he turned into his room.

“No,” he said before slamming the door shut.

“Great,” I muttered to myself. Slowly I made my way outside. The sky was, as ever, gray. A shiver ran down my spine as the cold, moist air bit through my blazer.

I found the car parked in the gravel on the side of the house. Cringing I gazed upon all its rusty glory.

It was a short red car that had been badly banged up on its bumper. Peering through the dirty windows I saw stuffing falling out of the worn plastic seats. The stained mats on the floor made me stick my tongue out in disgust. This car was gross. There was no way I was riding in it for two whole days.

Resolutely I folded my arms, but then unfolded them in frustration. Apparently this was the only way out of this dump. And I couldn’t just give up. That was what Michael wanted.

Slowly, as if to prove my bravery, I reached out and touched the rusty hood.

“Ew!” I cried, withdrawing my hand. Little red flakes and brown grease now coated my hand. I looked back at the hood, where there was now a distinct hand print. It really hadn’t seemed so dirty. I was about to wipe my hand on my jeans, but thought better of it. They were designer.

“Fine,” I growled at the car in a low whisper, “I’ll ride in you, but I won’t like it!”

“Do you normally talk to cars?” a voice asked humorlessly from behind.

I spun around to face a shirtless dark skinned man. He was tall, really tall. Taller than me, even with my heels on. I was a little taken aback by his face. He was mildly attractive with prominent cheek bones and a straight nose. And his eyes… well, his eyes were dark brown—almost black—and some how tormented.

He stood there, a tool box in his hand, nearly glaring at me.

Snapping out of my short daze I glared back at him, “Do you normally ask stupid questions?”

His frown deepened and I held his gaze in mutual annoyance. We stood there for a minute, as if in some sort of duel.

Finally I exclaimed, “What?!”

He shook his head and begrudgingly said, “I’m Jacob Black.”

“Sienne Parks.” We did not shake hands, though if we had I would’ve given him my dirty one. Instead he walked past me to the car.

For some reason I didn’t like him, at all. It was as if I could feel him saying, “You got problems? You don’t know anything about problems. Buck it up.”

Angrily I walked back into the house in search of a rag. How much more of this strange world could I take?