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Two different people. Two different lives. Both running away from things they couldn't handle and didn't want to face. But a head on collision between the wounded Jacob and cunning Luz Maria maybe worth more trouble than facing the demons before them. (FIN : WASHOUT)

Disclaimer : All of the characters, situations, places, and ideas belong to their rightful owners. This story is not my speculation for what will occur in Breaking Dawn, but simply something that occurred after Eclipse. If that made any sense...

2. 481 We've Got a Hit and Run

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1186   Review this Chapter

I’ve been dozing on and off now. My stomach growls.

"When are we going to stop? I’m hungry." My parents respond with silence.

This blasted silence is getting on my nerves. It’s quite obvious that a fight will erupt when one of my parents opens their mouths. So I do it for them. Yes. I am the dynamite. I lie, and do so compulsively. Lying is what got me into trouble in the first place. I never bring up how it’s my parent’s fault that I am the way I am. Except now. We should end this. I mean, they want to end it now. So why not appease them?

"You guys can’t keep lying to yourselves about this. After all, lying is my thing right?"

My tone is one that opens the door to a pop in the mouth. But I don’t care now. Or maybe I should . . . It is extremely dark, the road is empty, and we’ve got about another fifteen miles until Forks . . .

The volcanoes erupt. Let the lava overwhelm the island and take the people. They were starting to irritate me too.

"Who do you think you are? How dare you open your mouth like that to us?"

I’ve never seen my mother this way before.

"I finally speak the truth and no one wants to hear it! Amazing. You people never cease to shock me."

My father steps on the gas, his face creasing, eyes on the rear view mirror, glaring death upon me.

"Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that! After all we’ve done, all you’ve put this whole family through....You have some damn nerve little girl! Some damn nerve!"

"Me? The one with nerve? Ha! That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since this whole mess started!"

My mother turns to the back seat to grab me. "You have no right–"

"No right!? It’s all your fault. Both of you! This isn’t even a joke anymore. Had you cared enough before, you wouldn’t have to care now!"

My father hits the gas even harder. We’re doing ninety now.

"Lord help me Luz Maria, I will do one twenty and throw you out of this car!"

We’re all yelling now. I’m wreaking havoc on this car. And I love it. But no one’s eyes are on the road. I don’t even no what I’m saying anymore. All speech is incoherent, on all sides. Silence is dead. I quickly glance from my yelling parent’s faces to the speedometer on the dashboard. We’re doing 120. Green and black mix in a blur. The head lights eat the black pavement sprinkled with yellow dashes. The night becomes one with our speeding vehicle. Something is a approaching. I stop listening to the shouts, the dark scenery whizzing by, and my eyes lock on a huge bear. Speeding at us faster than this car.

Oh crap what the hell...

"WATCH OUT!!!!," I scream, pointing at the road, where the goliath animal is about to crash into us.

My father turns a second too late. We lurch forward, car swerving from impact, a loud bang resounding from the front of the car. We are gasping with our last breaths, as he stops.

We step out the car, and walk toward the front. Our mouths drop.

"Holy Christ. " I turn around. I don’t know to be shock because there’s a naked guy lying on the ground, or the fact that it’s a guy, not a bear. "Can you guys cover him up?"

"Yeah, he’s got some pants tied to his leg."

"Be careful with it, it may be broken. Check his pulse.," I comment.

"He’s alive.," my mother says relieved.

I sigh and begin to clean the blood off the car and attempt to rid the dent off the front.


We are silent in the car. This boy is in a coma. He must be. After coming into a car, at the speed he was going, and we were going...why isn’t he dead?

My parents dragged the boy into our Mercury Monterey, as I was left cleaning the trail of blood and ridding us of any possible link to an accident. They laid him across the back seats, where I am to tend his wounds. Clean him up actually. Where did they get the idea I’m a certified medical professional?

I spin webs of deceit and clean the dust off the smaller cobwebs I’ve made. I keep the webs nice and glittery, a piece of art if you may. I lie, and you believe it, and you love it, and you live it. And I wait for you to realize what you’ve got your self stuck in, and watch you struggle. Because you know what? I struggled, and I got out of a web. That’s when I decided it’s better to be the spider than to be the fly.

So here I am, kneeling by this kid, whom I don’t know, cleaning the blood off his face and chest, well what I can see in this darkness at least. I think he’s dying. His body is on fire. He’s temperature is over hundred, or something. Goodness he’s dirty...

"How far are we from the town?"

"Three miles. I’ll speed."

I wipe the blood off his face, a gash on the far side of his face. I move his straight black hair away from it. I attempt to look at his face, his features: a finely sculpted nose, high strong cheekbones, russet skin. He moves, and I jump.

He groans. "Bell..."

We should have left him on the road side. We stop.

"Are we there?"

I look up to the window, where I see a bunch of tall male figures blocking the road.

"Dad. Tell them to move. This kid’s dying."

They approach the car. They have a menacing air, and I couldn’t care less. My father rolls down the window.

A strong face with hard eyes meets his. "We are searching for our friend. Maybe you’ve seen him?"

The guy looks into the car. I glare at him, letting him see the body behind me, covered in bloody rags. His eyes widen, and his expression changes.


The boy behind me groans in response.

"What did you do to him?!"

"Saved him. We found him lying on the side of the road. Some car was speeding past us minutes before. Hanging the Samaritan is always the best choice isn’t it?," I end my lie with a sarcastic remark. He glares at me. I smile back coldly.

"Follow us. We’ll get him help." My parents don’t object to his offer.


"This is La Push Reservation. You’ll find your way to Forks....," some man speaks to my father as I stare at the boy we hit.

His friends help him into a house. One of the girls glares at me. I smile. Kill them with kindness. Or some artificial version of it. It’s like sugar with out the actual glucose; kindness without actual empathy.

One of the guys who stopped our car makes his way out of the house as we head back to the minivan.

"Thanks for cleaning him up. You’re new, aren’t you?"

"Could you tell?" My sarcasm stings his manners.

"Welcome to Washington then."

"Already loving it."