User blog:TeamTaycobSoDealWithIt/My Un-named Twilight Saga Fanfic: Author's Note + Chapter One

Author's note:

Dear Reader,

This is not your lovey-dovey Twilight Saga fanfic. Just to clear things up, this is not a love story; this is an "angsty" tale of abuse, lies, and doing what it takes just to find self-satisfaction, self-acceptance, and love, which none of these characters ever really find at all. ''This is a modern, dark drama and none of the main characters really get happy endings. My characters' lives suck, overall.''

''This fanfic only has one original character of mine, inspired (and pictured in my head, to be honest) by somebody in real life that I know. The rest of these characters are Stephenie Meyer's own. I don't own the Twilight Saga; I couldn't because I lose things too easily and it takes lots of work to take care of something. (I killed my first two pets the day I got them: fish named Angel and Princess. My five-year-old self was devastated.) ''

''Anyway, these characters are slightly out-of-character, or very out-of-character because of the species change. They are also all-human, to make things crystal-clear. Vampires and werewolves and whatnot just could not exist in this series.''

So without further ado, here is chapter one of my very whiny fanfic with an undecided name. I'm not sure if it really needs one. And I am very sorry for the awkward, weird breaks between lines, and weird indentation changes. Now, at least I know what not to do next time!

Bella's perspectivve

One


 * "Bella," Miss Barry sighed. "We won't get anywhere if you don't talk to me."


 * Like I didn't already know that. I didn't need to get anywhere with her.


 * I refused to talk to her. Why should I? Anything that I told her would only be told to my father, Charlie. He was the one who had suggested counseling. It was either that, or I would have to live with my mother Renee in Florida.


 * Miss Barry didn't make me talk; she couldn't because it was her "code of honor" as a guidance counselor. “Do you not want to talk?” she asked softly.


 * I just stared at her perfect, smooth fingernails that were painted a soft pink color. That color matched her personality, sort of.


 * Do I look like I want to talk? I wanted to snap at her. Why would I want to talk to you? You’re counseling skills aren’t worth anything, nobody ever wants your help, and you’re not taken seriously by anybody. 


 * Mean, I know, but it was the truth. Teachers looked down upon her, I could just tell, and no student ever wanted her guidance.


 * Miss Barry was probably fresh out of college, not a lot older than me. She had potential to be somebody. I wondered why she had thrown all those chances away to sink as low as being a high school counselor. She should have been a model. She was pretty enough. Her blonde hair (not natural of course; I could spot the dark roots from a mile away) fell past her shoulders, she had piercing blue eyes that held onto you and never let go, and she had a fashion sense so unlike the average teacher at Forks High School. But she was too short for runway, only at five-foot-six, but who was I to slash at somebody’s height, being the five feet and four inches that I was?


 * She did not belong in a small town, rotting away like month-old cheese. She probably had big dreams.


 * She had thrown so much away, and I was the person (in fact, not even the person because I was not whole anymore, but simply a ghost of who I used to be, looming around in limbo) she had given it all up for. Not intentionally, like, “I am going to stop living my life to help Bella Swan, a depressed, eighteen-year-old brat that was dumped by her amazing boyfriend after they had been so, so close and loved each other very, very much.” But still.


 * I looked around the room. I swear she probably had the mind of someone half her age.


 * Fashion spreads, catalogues, pictures of clothes, etc. were on her walls. She probably came two days before school was back for winter break just to renovate her little, clean room.


 * I felt especially bad now; she was obsessed with fashion, and she couldn’t go out and be a part of it.


 * She had to deal with me.


 * I blinked, which sent me back to the present. I had been through too much to go back to the past once again. My past was of nothing but heartbreak now. “I don’t have to talk, remember?” I murmured.


 * “But you’ll feel better if you do,” she said in her thin, chim-y voice.


 * Bring my boyfriend back, I wanted to tell her. Bring him back, all the way from New Hampshire, to me. Then I’ll feel better.


 * Of course, I did not say that aloud. But I did say, “I don’t think I will.”


 * “Why don’t you try?” she asked in a way that was not trying to sound bitter and annoyed.


 * Be frustrated with me, I thought. Hate me. Hate me so much that you’ll go back to Los Angeles or wherever you’re from to do what you’re supposed to be doing. Don’t waste your time trying to fix a girl that cannot be fixed.


 * “I’ll try,” I lied.


 * That seemed to satisfy her. She smiled a closed-lipped smile that seemed genuine. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Ugh. She was too enthusiastic to be a guidance counselor. She wanted progress.

Good luck, Barry.

I had to meet Miss Barry (though she preferred that I called her by her first name, Ashlyn, but that would only make me think she was trying to be friends with me so I never did call her Ashlyn) every Wednesday after I ate lunch. But after the bell for lunch rang, I hid in the girls’ bathroom for a while, for the reasonable time it took someone to eat lunch. I never ate lunch.

The first time I had to meet with Miss Barry, I skipped. There was no way that I would be visiting the school guidance counselor. Someone could have caught me going, but why should I have cared? I had no friends, no reputation that would make or break me besides the sharp, sneering whispers of “that depressed girl who didn’t eat”, because according to others, I was dead to the world.

I was fine with that.

I would even live up to that if I had to.

Charlie had discovered I skipped (from Miss Barry of course), and with one second (and final) warning of being sent to Jacksonville, Florida, I went the next week. Miss Barry had pretended like I had never skipped, like everything was perfect when in reality nothing was.

Miss Barry didn’t make me talk for the rest of our meeting. I should have, because it was our third actual meeting, the fourth one if I had went to the first one, but it would take some serious budging. I knew she wanted to hear about him. But he, Edward Cullen, had stolen my heart and then destroyed it.

I still loved Edward. I loved him too much for my own good, which was why I was so hurt, and now, so dead and numb.

His mother, Esme, had been “sick of him”, so he was sent to New Hampshire to live with his father, Carlisle, and other brother and sister, Jasper and Rosalie.

Edward’s sister that lived here in Forks, Alice, was someone I especially did not talk to. I even avoided looked at her. It didn’t help to look at a spitting image of my ex-boyfriend. Besides, Alice pretended I didn’t exist anyway. She didn’t notice anyone really, besides her boyfriend, Damon.

Then there was Emmett Cullen. At least he didn’t go here anymore. He had graduated last year, and moved on to some college in New Hampshire.

What was up with the Cullens and the state of New Hampshire anyway? Four of the kids and one of the parents lived there. All that was left here in Forks was Alicia and Esme.

Miss Barry let me go early and as I walked to the door that led to the building of my next class, building four, I passed the cafeteria. The smell of way-too-greasy pizza was revolting. But everyone ate it nevertheless. No wonder why there were so many kids with acne.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I saw the table I used to sit at with my old friends. I stopped and peered through one of the cafeteria even though I knew I had no reason to and it was none of my business anyway.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">There they were: Jessica, Mike, Angela, Ben, Eric, Alice, Damon, Conner, Tyler, Lauren, and another girl (probably a junior) that was sitting where I used to sit. Jessica had wasted no time finding someone to replace me. She was probably happy that I was no longer her friend. Mike’s pursuit of me would eventually have to come to a close.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">They were all laughing, eating, and talking. I wanted to be a part of that. I wanted to sit where I used to sit. I wanted to be normal, human. But then again, I never sat there unless Edward was there with me. If he was absent one day, I wouldn’t even go near the cafeteria.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Then Jessica’s eyes flashed to mine and glared at me. I felt her eyes burning, possibly with hatred, into mine. I quickly looked away and continued walking to building four.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center;">Angela's perspective

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"Have any of you talked to Bella?" I asked the people who sat at the lunch table. It was a pretty large group. It seemed like nobody heard me.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Apparently, Jessica did. "I don't know," she said absentmindedly. Her eyes were staring down into her lap, at her cell phone, no doubt. She was probably text messaging her "new boyfriend". And I had thought she and Mike were dating.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"I don't care," Lauren said effortlessly, like what she was saying wasn't at all rude. She opened a ketchup packet to squirt the ketchup onto her chicken burger, an act that I always found gross.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"I could have sworn I just saw her," I said, looking down at my slice of pizza.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"Didn't she move a month ago to California or something?" Eric asked.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"No, she's still here," I said.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Of course nobody remembered Bella. She definitely didn't talk to any of us anymore. But I remembered her. I remembered finding her crying in the bathroom, back in our junior year, because she thought she and Edward, her ex-boyfriend, were broken up. I remembered her calling me last July at two in the morning because she just needed someone to talk to due to her worriedness about Edward. I forgot what the issue was. Drugs? Family problems? I remembered freaking out because last August she told me she would have rather been dead then deal with his problems. I begged her to break up with him because he had so much drama going on with him, but she immediately took what she said back. She said she simply could not break up with him.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I had been the only person she could talk to.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"Do any of you worry about Bella?" I asked everyone.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"Angela, why does it even matter?" Lauren snapped. She said it like the thought of Bella deeply irritated her, which it probably did.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"Bella's my friend," I declared.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"Well, she's not mine, so get over it." Lauren rolled her eyes. "Besides, she's only going to end up killing herself."

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">"Why do you say that?" I asked fiercly. My hands were balled into fists. I seemed to be the only one who cared about her anymore.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Lauren's green eyes shot straight into my eyes. "I heard she was cutting," she said with a shrug. "And she's starving herself anyway. If she's going to starve herself, she should at least do it with reason."

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She bit into her chicken burger, and I leaned against my seat and shook my head.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Maybe Bella really didn't matter.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center;">Bella's perspective <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I came home at 3:05 pm to an empty house. Of course it was empty.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I walked up the stairs, went to my bedroom, slammed the door shut, and dropped my light Jansport backpack to the cream colored carpet.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I never had homework to do now because I finished everything I had to do in class. Talking to anybody never slowed me down merely because I had nobody to talk to. I never got less than an A either.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Now what can I do? I thought. I have no homework, nobody to call, nothing.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I walked downstairs, lounged on the couch, and clicked on the TV. Of course, there was nothing on. Then I remembered something.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I knew Charlie would get on my case when he got home; he always did. I knew a place where I could go to avoid another torturous game of Twenty Questions. I knew somebody that could take my mind someplace else.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Charlie gave me the easy directions without any hesitation; he was happy that I was going to visit Jacob Black.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I pulled up to the Blacks’ faded red house with some hope. I hadn’t seen Jacob in such a long time. He probably felt the same way, because he was already waiting for me, outside of his house. He must have heard my old red truck from a mile away.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I saw his wide grin the second I got out of my truck. I walked toward him with a smile and he gave me a huge bear hug. He was warm, and he seemed happy. His aura was most likely a bright yellow.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I haven’t seen you in forever!” I said after he was done embracing me. I stepped back to take a better look at him. He must have been about six feet tall now. And he seemed more muscular since the last time I saw him, around Christmas or something. I immediately felt jealous of whoever was his girlfriend. He had to have a girlfriend, as good-looking and sweet as he was.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“How are you?” he asked me, his grin still there.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Fine, I guess,” I said. He had known about my depression. Of course he did. Charlie and Jacob’s father, Billy, gossiped like old women.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Jacob’s dark brown eyes were warm and happy and alive.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“So what do you want to do?” he asked me.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Anything,” I said honestly.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He laughed. “It’s great to see you again.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I wished I could tell him how great it was for me to see him again.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">We walked inside his house and I saw Billy, sitting in the living room in his wheelchair, watching TV.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Guess who came to see us?” Jacob asked him.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Billy turned to us. I smiled and waved. “Hey, Billy.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey, Bella. What brings you here?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I was just thinking of you guys, so I decided to drop by,” I answered honestly.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Is Charlie coming later?” he asked.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t know, but I think he is,” I promised him.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Jacob led me to his small garage, where there seemed to be a car in the process of being made.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Wow,” I said. “What kind of car?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“A Volkswagen Rabbit,” he said, picking up a wrench.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I wasn’t a big fan of cars, but it was nice to watch Jacob work on his car. He was way too talented for a sixteen-year-old. He was definitely born in the wrong year. We talked too. He told me about his two best friends, Quil and Embry, and a little bit about school. I told him Angela briefly.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I felt much happier around Jacob. Way happier than I had ever been with Edward….well, except for one of the last times.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I found myself thinking vaguely about that time when I was driving home later. Hot, angry tears were running down my face by the time I was pulling into the driveway of Charlie’s house. It had been months since I had last cried. I felt real again. I felt like a real human with real emotions again. I had been a blank, empty sheet before.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I wasn’t sure which version of myself I liked more.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> I wiped the tears away before I walked to the front door of the house, and tried to only think about Jacob. Jacob was really sweet to me. But Edward had loved me. Jacob could have been annoyed with me; I hadn’t talked to him since last September, when Edward left.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I didn’t deserve Jacob. I was a horrible monster. I was a big, melodramatic baby that needed a man at all times. Then I had become close to that first man and he ruined me. No, I had ruined us.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Jacob was too happy, too forgiving, and too great to have to deal with me.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Jacob was a gift from the gods.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Edward and I had been through our ups and downs of course; what good couple didn’t? But I had been broken beyond repair. Jacob shouldn’t have wanted to cope with me, a dead, cold, stupid girl. There the tears were again. Maybe I was thawing from some wintry sleep I was put in back in September, right after my eighteenth birthday. I had learned not to cry. Crying was for the weak, along with telling, asking, confessing, demanding, and rejecting. I had to not cry, be quiet, and not disagree with anything. It had worked in my relationship with Edward. I wasn't dead, was I?

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I finally walked let myself into the house. I had been standing under the dim porch light, my hand frozen on the damp door knob, for minutes probably. Charlie was already home, sitting in the living room, watching the game on TV.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He turned the TV on mute as I shut the door and walked into the living room.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey,” I said.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey, Bells. Where were you?” he asked, trying to not sound nosy.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Honestly, where else could I have gone?

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I was just with Jacob and Billy,” I told Charlie.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">His face was surprised. “Oh. How were they?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“They were nice, I guess. Jacob’s building a car.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Charlie’s eyebrows were raised, like he still could not believe me. “Nice,” he said.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yeah,” I agreed.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“And there’s pizza by the stove,” he told me as I made my way upstairs to my room.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I didn’t stop. “I’m not hungry,” I called. “I’m going to bed early.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I was already up in my room with the door slammed shut before I could hear him say anything else. A talk about eating disorders was not something I was in the mood for.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I got my bag of toiletries and retreated to the bathroom to take a hot shower. I stripped from my clothes and stared at myself, barely breathing, as I waited for the water to heat up. It seemed like if I breathed deep enough, I would have cracked into a million pieces.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I got a good look at the stranger in the mirror

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I was a lot thinner than I was before Edward left. Thin waist, thin wrists, thin legs, thin arms. Thinthinthinthinthin. I looked pretty much like a skeleton now. I was a frail, little skeleton. It disgusted me. I had always been pale and slender, but this—this—was pale and slender to an entirely different extent. I looked sick. My eyes were dead, with dark, violet circles under them. My hair was even darker, and less shiny. I spotted more split ends that I hadn’t seen back in September.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">What a hot look. All the boys would come running, and all the girls would ask, “What’s your secret?” Yeah, right.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I got into the shower quickly, not caring whether or not the water was hot. I needed to get that grotesque picture out of my head.

''So that was my first chapter of my fanfic. Yes, I know that "thinthinthinthinthin" isn't an actual word; it is my own. Yes, I know that the change of perspective was rather weird, but I just wanted to try it out. And yes, I know that that was dark and whiny, but I warned you. Tell me what you think! Again, I am sorry for the awkward breaks between lines and weird indentation changes. ''

XOXO,

TeamTaycob