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Killing Loneliness

Summary:
What if Jacob Black never existed? What if Victoria left Bella alone and never came back? What if Edward never came back? This is that story. Apologies to H.I.M. (His Infernal Majesty) for using one of their song titles even though this is not a song-fic (I just felt I had to put that in). The name also just seemed too perfect, seeing as Bella becomes a tattoo artist, and H.I.M. is a very popular band around that crowd. DISCLAIMER: All characters, unless mentioned in the end notes, belong to ubergalactically fantabulous (love those words!) Stephenie Meyer! Please don't sue me!!!!!!


Notes:
Bella didn't have Jake, and couldn't cope with the pain of staying in Forks. Two days after Edward said goodbye, Bella packed her things and drove to Seattle, where she sold her truck for a black and red 1978 Chevy Camaro. She finished high school at the Center School and became a tattoo artist at a parlor in the alternitave district of Ballard, in Seattle. She now lives in a small apartment with her black cat, Nightmare, while attending college at the University of Washington. She studies architecture.


2. Just a [Not So] Ordinary Day...

Rating 5/5   Word Count 618   Review this Chapter

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"Ugh," I groaned, rolling over and slamming my fist down on my damned alarm clock. My cat, Nightmare, jumped onto my bed and started rubbing against my face. "Nightmare! Get off, girl, I just woke up. Leave me alone." I pushed the cat away from me and rolled out of bed. I roughly pushed a hand through my short, messy hair. I had just gotten it re-dyed yesterday, black with red streaks. Shuffling over to my closet, which was even messier than my hair, I pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans with white pinstripes and a black corset top with red ribbons tying it up the front.

Rushing over to my microscopic bathroom, I quickly applied a thin stripe of black khol eyeliner to each of my eyes before grabbing my checkered messenger bag. "Sorry, Nightmare, I can't play with you right now." I murmured to my cat, who was playfully batting at the assortment of charms hanging off of my bag. "My boss is gonna kill me if I'm late to work today. It's a good thing I'm such a good tattoo artist, or else I would've been fired ages ago." I tried to take my mind off of the horrible nightmare I had last night. I remembered that awful day after he left me five long years ago, and it made me sick just thinking about it. Charlie had died just two years after I moved to Seattle, and his house had been sold. Now, even if I wanted to go back, I would have no place to go.

The mansion on the river... that was never sold. But I knew I couldn't. That's where-

No. Stop it, Bella. Are you trying to hurt yourself even more? The voice in my head was right. I shouldn't be thinking about these things when I had to get to work. I glanced at the clock on my phone briefly, then went dashing out the door, still pulling my shoes on, when I did.

"Shit. I'm late. Riley is so gonna kill me this time." I ran as fast as I could without tripping over my untied laces out to my red and black striped 1978 Camaro, tossing my bag in the passenger seat and revving the powerful engine.

"I am so dead when Riley gets his hands on me!" I muttured to myself, throwing the camaro into reverse and backing out onto the main road. I floored the gas once I was onto the road, speeding my way over to the alternitave district of Ballard. I pulled my car into a parking lot a block away from the tattoo parlor I worked at, The Horror Shoppe, and dashed through the doors of the parlor. Aaron, one of the other tattoo artists, was already in a back room working his magic with ink. Jamie, a piercer, was cleaning the glass showcase and grinned goofily at me when I came in, breathless.

"Riley is not gonna be happy, girl. You'd better get your ass into your office, there's someone waiting for you." Jamie was still grinning through his pierced lips, the stud in his tounge clicking against his teeth when he spoke.

"Alright, Jamie, just tell me who it is." I sighed, tired of the game he played with me. He always surprised me when I got to work, and there was always someone waiting in my office. I was a pretty good tattooist, and my art was in high demand. I sighed again, heading off towards my office.

I assumed that it was one of my regulars back for another "Swan Stamp", as they called it. But I didn't know just how wrong I was.