Bella's parents stay together until she's nine, then break up violently and full of hatered. It changed Bella. She hides her pain behind mascara...then she meets Edward.
Readers- I’m moving accounts. This was a shared account with someone who doesn’t really like me anymore. So I’ll post this to all the stories I wrote (I’ll only continue some) then you can read them. Continuing: Complications, Goneandnevercomingback., Marionette, mynewLife, and SpilledMascara. If what you read wasn’t listed and you want it continued, tell me through the “contactauthors” button on the “elainamorrigan” account why I should continue. -elle/Twizzler
Warning: I may not even do this story...depends on how much you guys like it.
1. Chapter 1
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1099 Review this Chapter
“Shut up, Renee! I can’t think with you bitching at me!”
“No, Charlie! I’m sick of your shit!”
I heard a slap and two gasps, then I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the cold, dark, wet window. Tears hit the pane like little fingers mimicking the drops outside.
Renee started to throw plates off of the counters and I crawled up to the top of the stares. Charlie would usually stomp up them and the plates she threw at him would come close to me, so I decided to go hide in their bedroom.
I went through Renee’s makeup, looking for something, anything, to keep me busy. That’s what I usually did.
Then I saw it: the mascara.
I’d seen Renee use it before, I was sure I could. I went to the mirror and easily put it on, but the tears kept coming, smearing the makeup down my face. I looked so pathetic, so weak, so painful. I swore the mascara would never smear with my tears again. Not for my parents or anyone.
“I really hate Forks!” I heard Renee yell, slamming the front door. I looked out the window next to me, tears were running down her face as her car screeched from the driveway. She looked back just once and saw me. I held her stare coldly, daring her to come back.
I didn’t care if she came back for me or not, as they didn’t care for me or my feelings.
That day I swore two things.
One, I wasn’t letting anyone see my pain. I didn’t care if I had to hide behind a mask of this makeup forever.
Two, I’ll never fall in love.
I was nine years old.
First day of freshman year. I’m not worried. I’m the most popular, most untouchable girl in school, leader of the most untouchable clique in school. My father is police chief Swan, and my mother is not in the picture to ruin it. My best friends, Jessica, Angela, and Lauren always back me up, and I don’t lean on some pathetic boy.
I’m perfectly fine.
But am I whole?
I shook off that thought. Of course I am. Nothings wrong with me. I’m not brainwashed into “loving” someone.
We walked through the doors of Forks High School with confidence. The day passed quickly. First was geography, I had Jessica with me. Then English with Lauren and Jess. Third period was theatre with Angela. The whole time it was another lecture about how we were high school kids now, and were no longer babies over and over again. I’d go to the bathroom and check my mascara every passing period.
Fourth was Spanish.
I walked calmly into the room, even though I ended up being late. I acted as though it was their fault for not giving us more than five minutes between classes to talk to our friends, instead of mine for being late.
I looked around the room, there was only one seat left and it was next to that new kid, one of the Cullens. There were seven of them. Three girls and four boys, their adopted father was the new doctor that moved here from Alaska. Their names were Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, and Edward, that was this one. He was the most beautiful, the tall lanky one. Why do the seats have to be two to a table in this dumb school? None of my friends were in this class either, this sucked.
I sighed and walked up to the front to give the teacher my discipline sheet, and Cullen moved his stuff to the floor. I dropped my stuff off and he stiffened, turning his gaze to meet mine, it was furious. I flinched and looked away, tripping, and though I do that a lot, it was still embarrassing. I flushed deep red. I walked off as if I didn’t notice he gave me a go-to-hell look, but I did.
“You’re late Miss Swan.” Mr. Garcia said.
“Yes sir, I am.”
“And do you have an excuse?”
He rolled his eyes and sighed my sheet, “Have a seat, Miss Swan.”
I smiled, “Yes sir.”
I went back to my seat and plopped down in the chair. Edward leaned away.
What is this guy’s problem?
“Are you okay?” I whispered to him. Did I stab him with a pencil and not notice it or what?
He turned towards me and glared, I shutter shot through me and I went rigid to. I will win this stare down. His glare burned, but so did mine. I was an actress, I could show any emotion on my face and hostile was looking pretty good right now. In other words, if looks could kill, he’d be dead. Though his black eyes certainly gave him some advantage.
“Edward,” Mr. Garcia said, “Como estas?”
“Bien, Sr. Garcia.” Edward answered, turning towards the front. By the time he looked back at me my hair had been made a curtain between us. Coward.
I don’t see what this kid’s problem is. I looked over and he was still stiff. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. He was probably some steroid junky.
Then Mr. Garcia gave us a paper and told us to ask our partners questions. In other words, “Talk to the crazy hulk guy…in Spanish.”
“Me llama es Isabella, I go by Bella. Como te llamo?” I said dryly.
“Me llamo es Edward. Como estas?” I resisted the urge to gasp, his voice was so beautiful.
Confused I looked down at the paper, “That’s not on here.”
“It means ‘How are you?’” he explained.
“I know that much, I mean…wait, you’re talking to me?” I said.
“Er…okay…I’m fine.” I hesitated, “And you?”
“Burning.” I thought I heard him mutter.
“I’m fine.” He said, smiling at me.
The bell rang.
“Can I walk you to your next class?” he said, excitement burning in his eyes.
So he thought he could get the most popular girl in school huh? Think again.
“No, you cannot.” I answered matter-of-factly, grabbing my stuff and walking out of the room, hardly turning to see his bewildered expression.
I remembered his black eyes and shuttered, walking faster.