Author's note: Fiction stories are labeled as such for a reason: they are not real. They transport people to different worlds where things you can barely imagine are real. That being said, I do not believe that fiction worlds cannot be based in realism, which is something the Twilight books are sadly lacking. Not necessarily in the towns they are based in but in how the people and their experiences are described. As a bored post grad I decided to do something about it. This is not an entirely new story. The characters and plot lines are very similar to Stephanie Meyers and I do not own any of her ideas. But I do own the fact that what she describes as obsessive love and old-fashioned values is actually depression and abusive/controlling behavior. No offense to Mrs. Meyer but I for one am hoping to make the fact that this is what is occurring very clear, and that it is ok for these teens to deal with these problems within the confines of a fantasy world. I hope that maybe this allows some people to identify more with the characters they know and love, recognize some signs of problems before they get worse, and maybe learn some possible solutions to problems they themselves face. This story will contain triggers for suicide/depression and abuse (non physical). If you or someone you know is in crisis you can call 1-800-273-8255 for the national suicide prevention hotline or 1-800-799-7233 for the National Domestic Violence hotline. Holding things in is not being strong, or brave but getting help and facing those problems and fears straight on is. Sorry for such a long author's note right at the beginning of the story, I've been known to not shut up. Now that this is out of the way sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.
Stories are simple. They have a set beginning, middle, and end including a swelling climax right before that that lets the reader know when the solution to all the protagonist's problems is about to show up. Real life, on the other hand, is no-where near this simple. There are too many details, too many characters, and too many problems, with no giant sign pointing toward those solutions. One such problem Lia Swan was currently speeding towards in the form of her sister in Forks, Washington. Normally, Lia pulled whatever excuses she could to avoid the soaked, frankly boring town her parents had once both called home; but this time it seemed she had no choice. Bella had fallen completely into that dark hole of hers, and while their dad was a good man, he made for a completely hapless therapist. Insert his younger daughter, who, to her complete chagrin, was excellent at pushing the older of the girls out of her comfort zone and out of her hole. So, on the precipice of a new school year, and an understanding that this might not be as easy as the usual force Bella to talk it out and then watch a comedy to counteract the crying routine she usually used, Lia continued her drive towards lord knows what.
He had left. He had left and not even for a decent reason. "You're not good for me Bella". As if this hadn't been the case since day one. He had wanted to break an eternity long commitment to not eat people the second he'd smelled her for crying out loud. And yet, there she had been, lost in the middle of the woods, abandoned by her only love who had told her to stay safe but couldn't be bothered to get her out of said woods, after pathetically begging him to allow her to remain in his life by any means. Now she was grasping. Grasping at any reasons to stay alive, while every fiber of her being was telling her give up. "It won't be getting any better", that little voice would say; "you weren't worth it for him, you aren't worth it for anyone else, you aren't even worth anything to yourself". The darkness had become exhausting; exhaustion she felt in her bones and in her spirit. Everyday felt like a never-ending chore, with dragging herself out of bed for school being one of the most arduous tasks imaginable. Today, Charlie informing her that they would be having a discussion when she returned home made that exact task exponentially worse. Slowly but surely, Bella forced herself to the bathroom, put her hair in a bun, and threw on enough deodorant and perfume that no one would notice her being on the third day without showering. To her great relief Charlie had already left for work, but this relief was short lived as a bright neon sticky note on the fridge caught her attention. "Don't forget out discussion later" was all it said. This was the day she had been dreading. For the most part people had been allowing her to openly live in the darkness. Sans the few questions about missing club meetings and the occasional missed calls/texts from Angela, people had basically stayed out of her business. And for Bella it was all the better. The darkness was a little less exhausting when she didn't have to use the little energy she did have to plaster a fake smile on her face. Her occasional good weeks meant that her friends just accepted her excuse of having problems at home when the darkness took hold again. Charlie, however, knew this was a lie. Of course he did, he was the only other person at home. And today, Bella felt in her gut, was the day she would have to begin to fake it. Fake having good days, possibly good weeks. Fake a smile and a conversation, fake that hole in her chest being slightly closed up. She'd have to show up to yearbook club and laugh at Eric's stupid jokes, and eat lunch with the group while peppering in bits of "yea" and "that's crazy" to Jessica, who loved to blab on about her boy problems. Because Charlie, had finally caught onto the fact that Bella was having some issues. And with Renee's way for fixing a problem being running away from it, she doubted Charlie would expect any less of Renee's first born. With that in mind, and having stood in the kitchen simply staring at the note for far too long, Bella ran to her truck and off to school, firmly placing that mask of happiness on her face as she drove.
Secure in the fact that no one was home or nearby, the shadowy figure slipped through the all too familiar window. Nothing had changed. The same clothes remained on THE chair. The same fairy lights were strung around the perimeter of the room, and that pesky dream catcher hung over her pillow. Her strawberry sent perforated every inch of surface area and he felt a sense of calm wash over himself. He lived in it for a moment, allowing himself a slight treat before coming back to the present and focusing on the task at hand. Moving the bed ever so slightly, the figure lifted the one loose floorboard and reached inside, retrieving the most recent photograph of him and his singer. Placing it inside his jacket pocket he returned the floorboard and bed to their original positions and made sure to spray some of her favorite strawberry sent to cover any trace of his cologne. Grasping onto the picture he assured himself that this was the right thing to do. Simply because he had removed himself from her life did not mean he had to remove her from his own. Climbing back through the window he stopped for a second to admire the room once more before a distant howl forced the figure to run.