Bella seems to attract every queer person within a ten mile radius. Vampires, werewolves... She's seen it all. But what she's missing is a human friend. And of course, Bella wouldn't be Bella unless that person was strange and possibly dangerous, too. Mythical creature expertise doesn't always help with humans.
There are a few things to say about this story : Amelia often thinks about drugs, drinking, suicide, etc. Although the actual act is never shown in my story, I suggest you don't read on if those topics make you uneasy. It's nothing major, though. I would like to thank my beta, bloodredskies for editing my work. She went through each chapter for me, and has been a great help. And lastly, I'd like to remind everyone to review. It's honestly the best gift you can give to any author, and how else could I improve if I don't know what you're thinking? Just spare me a minute once you're done.
11. Memento Mori
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1868 Review this Chapter
The storm had cleared up by the following morning. Though it was still gray and raining as it always was in Forks, no more thunder echoed through the skies, and no more lightning ripped down onto earth. No, the big storm was over.
But now it was time for the consequences.
All tabloids bore only one headline – "Most Violent Storm in Thirty Years Causes Three Deaths"
Somewhere in northern Washington, a hollow tree had fallen on an elderly woman. She'd died a few hours later at the local hospital.
A middle-aged businessman had lost control over his vehicle while driving over the wet roads of Seattle. He had died on the spot.
The tragedy of the week – a toddler had been electrocuted when a lightning struck on the telephone line of the small town. The mourning parents got their interview onto the first page.
But was there anything about a crazy teenager who'd killed her friend's fiancé? Any headlines about the broken, miserable almost-widow called Isabella Swan?
I crumpled the news paper and tossed it into the corner. Sweetie, I did warn you…
That was true – I had warned myself. My earlier experiences should have taught me how useless friendships were. Every human being I allowed to enter my life disappeared after a while, no matter how hard I tried to keep them near.
You didn't try hard enough.
But I had! I had changed so much about me during the last weeks, and I'd thought it was enough. I'd thought I was on a good track. But apparently, nothing was good enough for Bella.
Don't blame this on her, now. You're the one who pointed a gun at her fiancé.
I shook my head away from the guilt. It wasn't my fault. After all, Edward had simply begged for what happened. He had probably been aiming for it from the day we'd first met!
My inner voice didn't argue. I already knew.
I could try to deny it, and pretend to be content with myself as I was. I could pretend that the new friendship hadn't shaken me. But a return to my former self would be lethal, now that I'd tasted a sweeter existence. But what choice did I have? Bella wasn't speaking to me. She hadn't called after the incident last evening, and I was sure she wouldn't change her mind anytime soon.
The wedding was in three days. And then she'd leave.
Why did I have to lose it? Why had I reacted that way?
Because it's who you are.
Edward had provoked me.
But he wasn't the one who lost it.
Yesterday's storm might have passed over town, but the dark cloud still hung over me. My life had changed from dull to bearable to desolate in just a few weeks. I should have never let it progress that far.
Once Jack left for work, I curled myself into a ball on the living room couch. Self-pity was the word of the day.
I did see how foolish I'd been. I'd done just what Edward had wanted me to – now he had her for himself, while I had to survive with only the leftovers of a past acquaintance. I had been daft, idiotic, dimwitted with my act last evening, and had thereby surrendered to Edward.
Curse the man who'd ruined my life!
Please. First you blame Bella, now him. I think we all know whose fault this really is.
I'd always blamed Edward for everything bad that had happened between me and Bella. This wasn't the first time.
It was your fault. YOUR fault alone.
Since when did my inner voice blame me for the troubles in this world? I had always been the one fighting them, after all.
You almost MURDERED him. Murderer, murderer, murderer…
And what if I was a murderer?
Now you're a pretender. Like all the other idiots in this world. Open your eyes and see the truth, my dearest! You're miserable because Bella's mad at you. She made you happy, but now you're even more wretched than before you met her. Screw the nonchalance; you're not fooling anyone anymore.
My inner me was right.
No, I was right.
Bella had meant everything to me – she had signified the beginning of a new era, a new life. Now she was gone, and I was petrified to go back again. I didn't want to be surrounded by only dimwitted hypocrites again. Bella was the only exception so far, the only person I could respect, but now I was yet again alone in my thoughts.
Yesterday afternoon, I had been determined to find out her secret, from pure curiosity. This morning, I couldn't care less about what she was hiding. I just wanted her.
But there was no way. My "voice" could argue all day and night if it wanted to – there was no escaping the fate I'd designed for myself so many years ago. I would end up either dead or in a jail cell before long and nothing could stop me from fulfilling that destiny.
I contemplated about calling Bella to beg for her forgiveness. And I might have done just that if it had been something else – she always forgave harsh words and raised tones. But this time, I had ventured far beyond those limits.
Edward was her greatest treasure. She wasn't going to forgive me.
Well then, stop fretting. Get up and start living your old life again. There's nothing you can do – so why cry over unalterable facts?
Now I was sounding like myself again.
I forced myself up from the couch – not a single tear would be shed for that girl again – and walked into the kitchen. I had to think of something good to let Jack know I was back again; devastating the kitchen sounded like a good idea.
No, forget that one. I needed something more creative.
My eyes raked over the items in the room, looking for inspiration. The car keys on the table gave me a thought – maybe now was the right time for that accident I had planned so long ago.
It seemed like a lifetime lay between me and the gloomy past.
There you go again.
I took a deep breath, making myself focus again. I would pick the keys up from the table, walk to the car that I hadn't used ever since my last exploit, and then I would speed to my heart's desire. It was a simple plan, and yet it held an impressive shock value.
But I hesitated.
My mind screamed at my limbs to move, but my legs didn't budge from their position. Some invisible force had glued me to the spot – all I could do was stare at the keys on the table with longing. Only a few feet separated me from my glorious not-so-happy end.
I didn't know how to answer that. I couldn't tell if it was true – was I scared, or was I not? Impending death had never frightened me before, why should it have that effect on me now?
Because you have something to live for.
Correction – I'd had something to live for. But that something had never been truly mine, and now it was gone for good.
I was about to make another attempt at snatching the keys, when an unexpected noise broke me from my concentration.
The phone on the kitchen counter vibrated as its ring echoed through the vacant house.
Acting more out of reflex than anything else, I strode over to the handset and picked it up.
I wasn't expecting anyone specific. My guesses were pretty vague – perhaps it was Jack, who was checking to see if I was still alive. More likely it was a prank call, or one of those frustrating telephone salespersons. Either way, it wasn't anything significant, I was sure.
But the voice on the other end of the line surprised and shocked me to my deepest.
It was her.
My hand froze; my lips were unable to move. I couldn't even produce any sound to stutter with.
"You haven't called." The words were transparent enough, but I couldn't understand them. Their meaning was lost under the present circumstances.
After I'd heard her voice, I'd expected her to scream at me, or at least somehow express some disregard. But her tone was polite, almost apologetic, as she spoke.
"No. I haven't." I couldn't think of anything else to say in the context.
"Look… could I come over? I think we should figure out some things."
A cold wave of fear washed through me. What was Bella planning? Did she want to murder me?
Maybe that death was better than the one I'd planned for myself. At least that end would have a meaning.
A meaningless life ends meaningfully. How fitting.
"I'll… I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"
The line went dead.
So Bella was on her way to my place. Maybe she had Charlie's gun with her – or had he taken it to work? That was very possible. But if Bella didn't have the gun, she could always use something else. A kitchen knife would do just well.
I slouched back to the sofa in the living room. I would need to arrange everything before Bella arrived – after all, this time I would react correctly. No more fighting. No more cruel words. I would let her take my life with grace.
But what would happen to Bella once she was done? Murder was a serious offense. I could only hope she had the brains to make it look like suicide.
"Mors ultima linea rerum est."
"Death is everything's final limit."
The keys on the kitchen table reflected the light coming from the light bulb, sending a bright shine over to my face - the ultimate "memento mori".
"Remember that you'll die." And that you do.
Would I say anything to Bella before she executed me? Would I express my regret, or something along those lines? Or was it better to remain silent?
I chose option number two. My mouth had never spoken more than absolutely necessary – there was no need to change my habits when I was so close to my end.
I briefly wondered if Bella would be able to do it. She had never seemed like an overly violent person. But why else would she be coming over? Why else would she wish to face me again, if not to end my miserable days? I had expected to hear nothing of her for as long as I lived. Her call had been unanticipated.
But then again – when had Bella ever been predictable?
She had arrived.
I pulled myself on my feet, and went to open the door for my murderer.
Memento mori, Amelia. Memento mori.
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