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Twists and Turns

Bella and Edward were best friends; the invisible bonds between them growing stronger with each passing day, twisting together. One day they decided to have a little fun. Little did they know their fun would cost them their friendship.Bonds are torn and hearts are broken and backs are turned. They're separated, on different sides of the Atlantic. Bella, attending a prestigious academy and Edward's stuck in their home town, living with the fall out of their fun. It's been two years now and Bella's moved on, made a life for herself in London. She's finally starting to move on with her life when a familiar face turns up. Will she go back to her rebellious ways, or will she continue on her road to perfection? The path of life has many twists and turns but is this one too many?

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. All Human

2. Chapter 2 - Home

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Why? Why me?

My mother obviously didn’t care for my sanity. I had been ditched by my own mother; she’d claimed to have an important meeting with some investors or something like that, leaving me to travel back to school in England with James. The thought of his name alone sent shivers down my spine; when it was said aloud, the sound was like someone dragging their sharpened fingernails down a chalk board, over and over and over again.

The aforementioned male is my Mother’s personal assistant, a royal pain in the derriere, with hands that are best described as paws – he only uses them for eating, placating and pawing at women. Although he’s her personal assistant, he more than deserves his...alternative title.

After one particularly bad grope, I decided that Personal Assistant really wasn’t the best title for him – in terms of his relationship with my mother, it was more than suitable, but not in regards to the way he acts around me and my closest female friends – and so I coined the term “PC” which, in my world, does not stand for “Personal Computer” or “Politically Correct”, which is the complete opposite to what he is by the way. Instead it stands for Personal Creep. He’s a Personal Creep. I feel this is a more than adequate description of him and I’m sure any female who has had the pleasure of spending more than ten minutes with him would agree.

In terms of looks, James is pretty non-descript. Average, for lack of a better word. Unfortunately, he considers himself “God’s gift to girls”. He is sorely mistaken. When he sets his sights on someone, he hunts them down, until he gets at least a kiss. Despite the fact that he’s been married to wife, Victoria, for eight years. Poor woman.

The intercom crackled over my head and a woman’s voice echoed throughout the room.

“All first class passengers on British Airways flight 48 to London, Heathrow now boarding. Thank you.”

We were running late for our plane and were ridiculously close to missing our flight completely. This was yet another thing I could blame the Madre on: she’d had to “talk” to James before we left. Yes Mother, I believe you. It was just a “wee chat” that you had to have in your office and those suspicious noises were most definitely in my head.

It was almost as if my mother and I had swapped places in the past few years. She’s become flighty and frivolous and flirty, whilst I’ve become remote, reserved and rational. I get irritated by the slightest things; so needless to say, I got more than pissed when Mr. Perv started scanning the departure lounge for victims with whom he could join the “Mile High Club”. Thanks to my mother, I had to spend the eleven hour flight next to the pervert of the century. Thanks Mom.

“Get a move on, James,” I said, obviously angry.

Today, I was going back to London for my final year at Sculpia’s Academy, a place I had learned over the years to love, hate and become detached from.

I loved it because it gave me the opportunity to start again, to throw away the old me and wipe the slate clean.

I hated it, because being there meant I couldn’t be with those who I loved the most.

I couldn’t depend on it, because the last time I depended on something, it - or rather they - were torn from me.

Yet, I was looking forward to going back; there were definitely positives to being educated away from home; there were no parents or people you grew up with recounting embarrassing stories from your childhood, no baby pictures and no judgements.

Needless to say, when our flight was called, I was the first person onto the plane.

The flight itself was long, boring and uncomfortable. It always was. I hated flying; the food’s gross, the bathrooms are worse and my flight buddy was just downright disgusting.

I spent the majority of the flight immersed in a novel. I smiled. I hadn’t had a chance to truly relax like this all summer. Every time I sat down and got my nose into a good book one of my old friends would call over and I would put on a false smile and answer their generic questions. I wondered how on Earth I had ever stuck with the people living in this place. They seemed so self absorbed and samey compared to the people I had met in the short time I’d lived in London.

James disappeared for short periods of time but I didn’t really want to dwell on that. It was him who would be caught out in the long run. I felt sorry for Victoria to be honest. No one, not even her, deserved to be treated the way James treated her.

Apart from a few cringe-worthy comments from James the long flight was fairly boring. I finished my book by the sixth hour, started a new one, fell asleep and that was about it. Before I knew it, the pilot’s voice came over the speaker, telling us to buckle our seatbelts and prepare for landing. After twenty minutes of crying babies, sucking sweets and popping ears, we finally landed on the tarmac.

I love land.

I’ll admit I did enjoy the perks of first class travel, not having to wait for extrordinate lengths of time to leave the plane is one of them; I quickly grabbed my carry-on and was one of the first people off the plane. I made the quick walk to the conveyor belts to retrieve my luggage. There was the usual madness with getting my bags together from Luggage reclaim. I did have a fair few suitcases with me; school uniform alone took up a suitcase of its own. Imagine the amount of bags you bring with you on holiday, now imagine a year away. It’s a fair few bags. I did rather enjoy James’ wounded expression as he would be the one carrying them. Let me tell you, those bags were not light in the slightest. But the weight was made full use of; James was red in the face from the strain and was unable to leer at the unsuspecting women of Heathrow airport. Sure, I could have carried the bags myself, but I felt the need to save the females around us from James’ thoughts and what actions might come from those thoughts.

With James coughing and spluttering with the exhaustion of carting the weight of a year’s worth of baggage beside me, we made our way out into muggy London air.