I own nothing. Nada. Zilch. It belongs to Stephanie Meyer
His blue eyes glared murderously at me from across the room. He ever so slowly advanced towards me, the bruise from where I had slapped him darkening on his cheek. I knew without a doubt that if I didn't do something, he would kill me where I stood. He was a different kind of monster from the one I had encountered years earlier in Phoenix, but no less deadly.
This time though, no one was on the way to save me. I had to save myself. I bumped into something as I backed into the corner. Reaching behind me, I felt our bedside dresser. I then knew what I had to do. I wrenched the drawer open and pulled out the gun he kept there. I leveled it at his head and pulled the trigger.
As he fell, I reached for the phone behind me. A voice trilled on the other end.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"This is Bella Brandon, 641 Meadow Street. My husband tried to kill me and I shot him. Please send an ambulance quickly." Looking at my husbands crumpled form; I knew an ambulance was completely unnecessary. I should have asked for a coroner.
It had been a week since I had shot Henry in self defense. If I had been anywhere else in the country or if my husband had been anyone else it would have been an open and shut case of self defense. I had tons of physical evidence that supported my case; bruises, broken bones, even a neighbor's account of what she had heard on that night. Unfortunately, my husband had been an extremely well liked lawyer who had more people in his pocket than I could count. Several policemen had let on that they were very unhappy with me for shutting off their extra flow of income.
To make matters even worse my father in law, Henry Senior was a congressman. A very influential congressman who was very unhappy at Henry Junior's current residence (Morgan County Cemetery). My picture had been plastered all over the national news for the last week. I was being portrayed as a gold digger, who had shot her husband in order to become the sole inheritant of his rather large estate. I sighed unhappily and pushed a piece of chocolate brown hair behind my ear. I had been in jail for over a week and hadn't even talked to a lawyer yet. Not that the justice system hadn't tried. No one wanted to represent me. I couldn't really blame them. If I was a lawyer, I wouldn't want to be on Congressmen Henry Brandon's bad side either.
I sighed again. I didn't really care. I was an empty shell, unhappy and broken. I had been for over five years now. At twenty three I was bitter, desperately unhappy, and generally didn't care about whether I lived or died. The only reason I married Henry was because he was so damn persistent. I resisted all through college, but after I graduated my will to fight him had ebbed. Basically, I had nothing better to do, so I married him. It didn't matter. I would never love anyone after Edward.
I winced. I had done such a good job blocking my high school memories that I was able to go days at a time without thinking about him. But after a week of sitting alone in my cell with nothing to do but think, it was hard to stay away from what had easily been the best memories of my life. They were also the most painful. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought of briefly of what might have been, if he had loved me. If he had stayed with me. I certainly wouldn't be here.
"Excuse me?" a voice sounded. I gasped and turned around in shock. A face I hadn't seen for five years stared out from outside of the cell. He reached a hand through the bars. "I'm Jasper Hale, I'll be representing your case."