As though she were the sun

A Rosella fanfic

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"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." -Oscar Wilde

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Author's Note: I know I have another Rosella story I'd started previously.. Maybe I'll get back to that one. It's good but... This is the one I want to write. Ready for another adventure? It's been a year since I posted the first chapter of The Ballad of Bells & Roses and I'm feeling inspired again. So lemme do the whole disclaimer thing- I don't own the book or the characters. And amounts discussed today are based on previous market close and actual amounts may vary bas- Just kidding. Hope you enjoy.

This one's for you. This one, that one. Every single thing I write. It's all for you.

Preface

On the brink of my twenty-seventh birthday, I attempted suicide. At the time, my failure at ending my life only exacerbated my overall discontent with my own existence. I believe wholeheartedly, had things not turned out the way that they did, I would have tried again. Emotionally, I was floundering. I'd just ended a long term relationship, I hated my job and depression seemed to hang over me like a bell jar, threatening to descend and suffocate me in my own despair.

At sixteen, my mother's own suicide had led me to Forks, Washington. From there, college had led me to Seattle, necessity had led me to to bartend and my shitty salary had led me to a subpar studio apartment in the not so great part of town. One night it all just became too much and I gave in to temptation. My best friend Jake found me and after the doctor's had stitched up my wrists and given me more than one blood transfusion, my father forced me into a different type of hospital. I did a two month stint where the endless days floated past without significance. Then, as the cool autumn shifted into the icy Washington winter, I returned to my childhood home and pretended I was okay.

It was a Tuesday morning in Spring when he first mentioned her. He came into my room, one hand wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, the other rubbing his messy chestnut hair. I was seated by my bedroom window, staring apathetically out at the freshly frosted forest behind the house. The door was open but he knocked anyway. He was incredibly careful with me, as though any wrong word would give me the inspiration I needed to finish the job.

"How ya feelin' Bells? Any better?"

"No."

"Got any plans today?"

"You mean other than this?"

He cleared his throat and came to stand beside me. He squeezed my shoulder. "I think it's time you try and get out of the house a little."

"And do what exactly?"

"Well that's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "I have a job for you."

"Does it require actually moving?" I asked, blandly.

"Yes," was his response, "And it'd be good for you." He paused and then came to stand in front of me, leaning against the window to garner my full attention. "Are you familiar with the Cullens?"

Anyone in Forks who hadn't been raised under a rock knew about the Cullens. They were old money- a family from the turn of the century or maybe even before. They funded practically every event and had their name on countless plaques around town. But they no longer resided anywhere even near here. At least, as far as I knew. I made an immediate assumption that he wanted me to volunteer at some upcoming event and grimaced in response. "Charlie," I began, "I really don't-"

But he didn't let me finish. "It's not what you think," he said. "It's more of a favor you'd be doing for me, Bells."

If I wasn't near catatonia, I may have actually been interested. But all I could muster in that moment was a slight lift of my left eyebrow.

That seemed to be enough for him. "The town mayor called me," he began, "and he informed me that Cullens have moved back to town. Or rather, the heirs have moved back to town. A great great grandson of the patriarch, his wife and their teenage child." He paused, maybe giving me the chance to guess at what he was about to ask of me. Then- "The family had a house built over on Quimby and the wife- I think he said her name was Rose- wants to hire a personal assistant."

"Well I replied," without emotion, "I hope she finds someone then."

He gave me what I could have almost categorized as a chuckle and if laughter hadn't become a myth in that house, I would have sworn he smiled. "Well," he said, "I kind of already told him you would do it."

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