"Why am I here?"
The girl walked into the small classroom completely unnoticed—the residents of Forks had long learned to ignore her. She didn’t look right; her long brown hair was straggly—not from going unwashed but from the rain outside. Her hood remained unused. Her glazed over eyes were sunken into her chalky looking face. The invisible girl was silently screaming for help. No emotion whatsoever on her whole form added to the effect.
I was in the shower when this babble came to me--go figure *shruggs*
2. The Pain of Us All
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She had never looked; her promise to her brother was still standing no matter how much she hated herself for keeping it. It had still come to her, though. Her body had still cringed and then stiffened; face slipping into a blank mask—she still found her lost sister.
The world around her rippled, twisted, and then cleared into a different scene then in reality. She saw her beloved sister and best friend, head down, scraggly brown hair falling around the desk that she was silently shaking on.
The woman—Alice—wanted to scream out, to call out to her best friend, to find some way to comfort her in her pain, but she couldn’t, body mute and frozen in her. She could only watch further.
Isabella’s shoulders shook, trembled, with loud wrenching sobs in the middle of the class. To the vampire’s complete fury and horror, the class continued, the shallow girl leaning away from Alice’s sister. How could they do that!? Why wouldn’t they help her? At least ask what was wrong?
Someone popped their gum loudly.
The heartfelt pain for the used to be little sister was crippling enough to almost pull her out of the vision. Almost. She wished it would.
After les then a second, the withered shoulders of the woman sat up in the realistic vision, face blank, eyes—so deeply set!—rimmed with a bright red. Her gray, unhealthy looking skin was glistening with tears.
They didn’t stop, the tears. They continued thickly but Ms. Swan was now quiet, eyes finally gone of the twisted, anguished pain that made her look like she was being burned. The tears still fell, nevertheless.
Time was strange in the young woman’s visions, and it jumped, morphing, never giving her a chance to return to reality, to try and fend off the painful sights, into a large hallway that she recognized with stinging familiarity.
Everyone swarmed everywhere, moving with quick buzzing movements. People laughed; people skipped around, messing with their friends; people held hands, and giggled to one another. Isabella did not. She stood stone still in the middle, unmoving in the sea of people. Like an invisible shield around her, no one approached her, a wide two feet free of the jostling children.
Mary Alice wanted this vision to stop more fervently then she could ever remember—even the time when young Isabella had almost been killed by a deranged tracker. And she knew exactly why, too. Because with this pain, this living hell Mrs. Whitlock was dragging the lost human through, was her families fault, her fault; and it was supposed to last forever in Isabella’s life.
Mrs. Mary Alice’s true vision, the one where she could pick out the smallest specks, was coming back, and her sister was fading, still standing, so lost, in the over packed hallway. Warm, strong arms encircled her, holding up her now shaking frame.
Alice dug her head into Jasper Whitlock’s shoulder, sobbing dryly into her only, her last, support. “So lost,” she moaned. “She’ll never find herself.”
The man, her husband, was scared, honestly. There was a tremendous amount of guilt and anguish rolling off his beloved wife; his waves a peace and calm were bounding off, unnoticed to her with the intensity of her emotions.
His own grating guilt and pain was only adding on to each of another—their emotions were one.
The vampires cradled each other while they had no option but to mourn the loss of their brother and sister—for they certainly had lost them. The first, the brother, had departed quickly upon the leaving of the small town of Forks. He had demanded the small black haired woman’s oath in not watching his love, made her swear to never look in a future that he would no longer effect.
What a fool he had been! He was still, would always, effect the young human’s life. One can’t reverse the irreversible. Yet he was so persistent in his pointless cause—all he’d managed was to rip up every heart in the family—including his and his lover’s—and run away into some damned corner of the world.
How he could do it, how he could separate himself from his very need in life, was unfathomable to his brother, Mr. Hale.
The Cullen family was of no more. They hardly used their previous last names anymore; it seemed pointless. If they were going to break apart wouldn’t their last names, their last weld to one another, change also?
The small woman in the former general’s arms twisted after an unaccountable amount of silence. Her gold eyes flashed and Jasper Whitlock savored the look—it had so long since he’d seen anything there but pain and emptiness—before turning wary. He knew his wife long enough to know it meant no good.
“I must find her,” she stated matter of fact like. Her tinkling bell like voice was strong yet still held the slightest note of pleading. She would do anything now to fine her beloved sister and drag her brother home.
Jasper wanted to argue but it was the note, the desperate plea in her voice, the broke him before he could argue. To have her beg of something of him much as this was torture to the scared man’s heart and ears. “We must find them,” he corrected gently.
They would find Edward Cullen if it meant combing through the whole world and drag him back to the little inconsequential town of Forks to the little inconsequential Isabella Swan that was the bindings of their family.