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Being rewritten.

When reading New Moon, I had always wondered how the story would be different if Alice never showed up, and instead the Cullen's simply came back to school one day. I know this has been tried before, but I would like to try my version. I hope you enjoy it, reviews are loved, but not expected.

1. The Hole, the pain, and the voice.

Rating 4/5   Word Count 1268   Review this Chapter

I was tired when I pulled into the Schools parking lot. Another nightmare had woken me up much too early that morning. I was already starting to miss Jacob, although I had just seen him yesterday.

Trying my best not to think about what else had happened yesterday, I hurried into the school. I had had some time to think about what I had done, jumping off the cliff like that… it had been a bad idea, not something I had thought through. Even seeing… him hadn’t made that a good choice. Him. Would I ever see him again? I ached to, I ached to see the love in his eyes, and I ached to know he wanted me. But, he had made it clear that he did not. I had been silly, foolish, to ever think otherwise.

At some point, I had to move on, I suppose. Moving on was important, right? But, did I want to move on? Even if I did it just for Jacob, I still wasn’t sure if I could just… let go.

Rather then answer the question right in front of me, I simply entered into my first class of the day. I was barely aware of what it was, or even who taught it. I was getting better, with Jacob’s help, but school… it was always such a trial, each day, to be “on” when I came in. So many things reminded me of him. Mentally, I forced myself to actually think his name, Edward. The pain that ripped through me, causing my arms to wrap around myself tightly, told me I wasn’t ready for that. No, I definitely wasn’t. Not yet.

The day passed much like that, skirting around thoughts, paying just enough attention in class. I was withdrawn into myself, already thinking more about when I would next get to see Jacob rather then anything else. It was easier that way, to just wait until my own personal sun could come again. In a funny way, it was almost like waiting out the night. The pitch dark that… I (again, I was careful not to think that name) had been left in, where the only light – the only day – came when Jacob smiled at me. When he was there I could forget, just enough that I could almost breathe. He was just enough to make the hole less fiery, just for a little while. Survivable.

I woke, for a moment, from my trance of thoughts as I entered the Cafeteria. I didn’t bother to look around, there was no point, and I already knew what I would see. Instead, I waited in line patiently even though I wasn’t hungry. Still, I grabbed a soda and paid, heading for my usual table without looking up from the floor. I wasn’t even sure what the point was of coming into lunch anymore, it was so tempting to look over at their table. The slight rise of hope would start, only to be crushed. It would merely throw me down further. I didn’t even know why I did it, I knew they – he – wasn’t coming back. I should accept that, right? Not give up, but let go. That would make Jacob happy, at least. I owed him that.

So caught in my thoughts, I did not notice the slight difference in the students looking at me. The worry and pity was different then usual, and I didn’t realize it until I was sitting and fiddling with the cap of my soda. I noticed it first in Angela’s eyes, when I met her eyes she silently pointed with them towards that table. I turned, slowly, unwillingly, to look at it.

It was amazing the emotion that a simple glance can cause. A faint hope, one I didn’t allow, crept in. Then, surprise – disbelief – more surprise – but the “good” emotions didn’t last. I scanned the four faces, and his wasn’t there. First, I felt that hope being crushed, then a slight anger, then… nothing. I was empty again, I couldn’t manage the emotions a simple glance was trying to cause. The emotions it was causing.

Forcing myself to turn back to Angela, to not meet any of the four eyes that watched me from that table, was one of the hardest things I ever did. I could still feel the worry, different from everyone else’s, that was pointed at the back of my head. I understood, now, the difference in the rest of the student’s eyes though. It had been worry for how I would react.

Smiling, shrugging it off, was out of the question. That much was beyond me, but at the least I would not let any visible reaction come. I could manage that, couldn’t I? Not looking at them, not acknowledging them. It would be hard, but no harder then anything else I had done in the past few months. I would not scream, I would not burst into tears, and I would fight this urge to run to – or from? – Them. I would make it through the last of this day, and then I would go home. There, I could cry.

I became very interested with spinning the top of my soda, staring at it whirling under my fingers. Then suddenly, I remembered another day in the lunchroom, another time… No! I slapped the top from the table, sending it skittering across the floor. Angela raised her brows, but, thankfully, did not question. I was having enough trouble at the moment, I needed something to focus on. Something that didn’t involve anything in this room.

It was understandable, with all my attempts to distract myself, that I didn’t at first notice the new change in the room. I did not notice the gasp of breath that emanated from nearly every living body in the room. I did notice the silence that descended a moment later, and for that I glanced up. I wasn’t used to the lunchroom being so quiet.

Then, I saw him. He was perfect, as always. He had his back to me, moving down the line for food as he was. But I could envision his face, his perfect features, and the way his brow arched – the way his hair fell over his golden eyes.

The pain came next, it ripped through me faster then ever before. He was in the same room as me, and it hurt. I couldn’t breathe. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my chest. The hole was threatening to rip me apart, to undo everything that Jacob had fixed in the months that I had been broken. It was leering at me, like some harpy, cackling at my pain. My heart, my lungs, all gone, and all he had to do was walk into the room. He didn’t even have to look at me. That was almost worse, because I was, out of habit, imagining his face. I had been so careful, for months, to avoid such thought. But his features… his perfect features, his… eyes, they were threatening to break free and plaster themselves in my thoughts. When he turned around, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I closed my eyes, tightened my hold around myself, and pressed my forehead to the table. I could feel sobs building in my throat, and I constricted my throat to keep them in. I positioned myself, weakly, so that it might look as if I were sleeping. Maybe, to him, it would appear as if I didn’t care. Maybe I didn’t want to see anything. Please, please let him think that. I wanted him to think that, right?

"Bella?" A voice asked, and I slowly turned my gaze to look at the face that spoke.