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Killing Loneliness

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!!!!!!

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.

3. Visitor

Rating 5/5   Word Count 574   Review this Chapter

As I walked through the door to my office, I saw a tall, lanky-looking teenage boy sitting in the purple bean bag chair across from my desk and my red bean bag. When he turned his brown satin-skinned body to face me when the door creaked open, his long black pony tail whipped around to rest on his shoulder.

"Oh, hi, I'm Jake Black. You must be Bella." Jake jumped up from the bean bag to exuberantly shake my hand from where he towered over my small 5' 2" frame. Wow he was tall!

"Yeah, that's me. How can I help you?" I asked, hiding my timidness at his utter hugeness. He was even taller than-

No. Don't even go there, Bella. I said sharply to myself. This day was not going well. At least the tattoo Jake was about to ask about would distract me. Tattoos were my way of expressing myself without hurting, and I tended to loose myself in the art.

"Well, my friend got a tat from you a while back and said you did a really good job. He got a flaming heart being hung on his back. Do you remember him?"

"Reilly West," I recalled suddenly. That was a fun tattoo to do, but it took a while to get the look of the fire.

"Yeah, that's right. I wanted something a bit more simple though, kind of a tribal band on my arm..." He pulled out a sketch of a twisting band, very dark and severe, and handed it to me.

"Hey, definately! That's really cool, did you draw it?" I took the sketch from him, erasing some of the smudges and quickly cutting it out with the scissors on my desk.

"Yeah, I did. So, when are you available to do it?" Jake asked, sitting down again, fidgeting nervously with a loose thread on his shirt.

"Ummm, I don't think that I have anything today, so all that I would need would be what color you want to do this in.... I'd personally do it in a dark color, like black, or dark purple...." I flipped through my Emily the Strange day planner to check for appointments. "Yeah, okay, I'm free until 4 pm. I'm going to a Kill Hannah concert, so I have to leave early."

"Awesome, I'm going to that concert too! Maybe tomorrow then, because now that I think of it, I don't really want to be moshing with a fresh tattoo on my arm. Ouch." Jake flinched humorously, then smiled. "Hey, want to go to the concert together?" he looked so hopeful, and seemed like a nice guy, but I wasn't about to go with a complete stranger. But then something dawned on me.

"Hang on, Jake. You said your name was Jake Black?" Oh my god... Could it be? How could I be so stupid and slow?

"Yeah," he said, not understanding. Then his face washed over with realization. "You're not Charlie Swan's daughter, are you?"

"Yeah, I was. He died a few years back." I muttered, looking down at my boots and shuffling them around. "And your dad was Billy. They were good friends."

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I didn't know Charlie died -I left for Seattle with my mom when I was five. But she's gone now too." Now it was his turn to look at his scuffed black converse hi-tops. "So how's Billy doing?"

Oh shit....