Your Gravest Words
All these words trip over cracks in the sidewalks.
Uptown, one year.
I'm distantly distressed.
I'm finally coming close to ghost.
I'm dancing on your gravest words
I'm toasting all the coldest stares.
All the loneliest of eyes.
I am a satellite never getting signals right.
You are a constellation.
I can barely make you out tonight.
The city lights are burning too bright.
I cut and paste these sections of maps into my days.
Can you feel me shivering?
I'm finally breaking out of orbit.
I'm clinging to your finest words.
I'm draining all the angry glares.
All that's building up inside.
And the dreamers...
Walk slowly through the crowds, nothing can stop us now.
"Charlie, this is not denial. This is the truth. I. Do. Not. Have. A. Problem. So get over this little idea, because there's no way in hell I'm going!"
I'd never spoken to Charlie that way before, and I could tell by the shocked look on his face that no one ever had. As a cop, you'd think he'd be used to people mouthing off to him.
But then again, he is a cop in Forks. Enough said.
"Isabella Marie Swan, you will NOT speak to your father like that. I don't know what else to do with you. You're going. The appointment is in an hour, so you'd better get going."
I just shrugged, figuring I could pretend to go and then really head to the movies or something. But Charlie knew me too well.
"Oh, and Bella? I'm driving."
Yeah…there went that plan. Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have come home last night. I could have easily told Charlie I was sleeping over at Angela's for the weekend.
At least until the swelling went down.
Jacob was usually pretty smart about hitting me in places where no one could see the damage. But I had pissed him off too bad this time by responding to an innocent question about homework that Mike Newton asked me in the parking lot.
I'd never seen Jake lose it like that. He started in on me right there in the car, not even waiting until we got to his house.
Since I hadn't been eating properly for a while, and my skin was so pale, the bruises stayed longer than they should have; thus, Charlie saw them.
I tried to play it off like my normal clumsiness was to blame, but I've always been a terrible liar.
Plus, how could I have possibly fallen in such a way that I had two black eyes and a split lip bad enough to need seven stitches? Jake was gonna kill me when he found out Charlie knew.
That is, if Charlie didn't kill Jake first. When he figured out what was going on, I've never seen Charlie's face so purple. It was pretty hilarious.
Anyways, Charlie decided I needed help. He said, and I quote, "You need help Bells. I've never seen you so depressed. You never eat, and you have this attitude. I'm taking you to group therapy."
He claimed that I'm in denial about my "abusive relationship" and that I'm "unhealthily thin". Apparently, the fact that he should mind his own damn business never occurred to him.
So that's how I ended up at group therapy, sitting in a circle, discussing my feelings. Like I give a damn about these other kids' problems.
There's six of us altogether in the circle, with our group leader Miranda sitting in the middle directing the discussion.
The kid directly across from me looks like he could eat me whole. He's huge, with these unnatural muscles protruding out of his shirt. The vein in his neck sticks out, even when he's just sitting there.
I think his name's Emmett, and I'm deathly afraid of him. If Jacob could do this much damage, I can't even imagine what someone his size could do to me.
There are two girls on either side of me. One is teeny tiny, with short black hair and nice designer clothes. Her leg is shaking up and down and her eyes keep darting around like she's too hyper to sit still.
In this high, squeaky little voice, she proudly proclaims that her name is Alice.
Like we should all applaud her or something.
The other girl, Rosalie, looks like a swimsuit model. She also looks like she's cried every day of her life. I kind of just want to hug her, but her cold blue eyes keep me at a distance.
Then there's this tall blonde guy that has the reddest eyes I've ever seen. He's all disheveled and his clothes are wrinkled, like he slept in them and just woke up.
I think his name's Jasper, and I think he's extremely hung over.
The last guy is gorgeous, and I could never forget his name. It's Edward.
He has this messy bronze hair that's swept over his forehead and emerald eyes that glare out from under his perfectly arched brows. He spends an inordinate amount of time examining his scuffed motorcycle boots, like if he stares long enough he can pretend that he's anywhere but here.
I can tell he's filthy rich, because even though the boots are scuffed, they look seriously expensive. Between the boots, his heavy leather jacket, and the shiny silver Volvo I saw him drive up in…yeah, I'd say he comes from money.
When he introduces himself, I want to roll my eyes and scoff out loud, because he is a complete and total tool.
I haven't ever called anyone a tool before.
I'm pretty sure no one calls anyone a tool anymore, but whatever. It just perfectly describes him.
He spits out in this deep voice, "I'm Edward." Then he looks up at me, Rosalie, and Alice and says, "And no, I don't want to go out sometime." Ugh, like the three of us were openly drooling over him or something.
Well, maybe I was, but that's beside the point. Who even says something like that to people he's never met?
He's unbelievably arrogant and has that whole "my rich parents don't pay enough attention to me, so I cause trouble to get attention" thing going on. I don't feel sorry for him one bit.
His smirk simultaneously makes me want to punch him and kiss him senseless. This whole group therapy thing is going to be…interesting.
Playlist: The Lawrence Arms- Your Gravest Words, Red- Pieces, Muse- Shrinking Universe, Wayne- Slow Down