This little piece of crazy started in my brain and would not be denied. It's an AH Bella/Edward story.
They say the course of true love never did run smooth, and these two are in for a bumpy ride!
This is my first fanfic - I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 1 – The Alley
My ragged breathing echoed in the darkness as my feet slapped the wet pavement. I didn't know how long I'd been running, but I knew the minute I stopped I'd hear them again - the Screamers.
My blood was pounding in my chest as I turned a corner, fueling my determination to not let them catch me.
Why the hell did I decide to go and get cigarettes in the middle of the night, and on a Saturday for Christ's sake? I knew they'd be out tonight, and yet my heart had still crawled up into my throat in surprise when I came out of the convenience store and heard them. They were further up the street, far enough away to give me a head-start – but the screaming was so damn loud, it split the quiet stillness like a chainsaw. I did the only thing I could – ran.
They chased me, their shrill, flinty voices echoing of the quiet streets, and now my chest was burning as my lungs wheezed and sputtered.
Goddamn, I really needed to give up smoking.
I turned another corner, and was heading back in the direction of my hotel when I saw a small alleyway. I could hear them nearing the corner, and knew the alley was a safer bet than making it back to the hotel lobby. I quickly ducked into it, sprinting past an industrial sized bin and hiding behind it. An old blanket was balled up near the wall so I grabbed it and pulled it over my head, hoping to camouflage myself.
"What the FUCK?" a voice said roughly.
I turned to see a pair of dark brown eyes staring at me, full of anger and fire.
"Get your own damn blanket, dude," spat a dishevelled young woman, trying to grab it back off me.
"Sshh!" I hissed. I could hear the Screamers approaching and this chick was about to blow it for me.
"Don't tell me to 'shhh', nutbucket!" she hissed back, lowering her voice slightly. "You're the one who just woke me up and stole my blanket!"
"Please," I begged, "shut the fuck up for a few minutes. Then I'll give it straight back to you."
"Yeah you will," she muttered as she stood and stepped away from the wall. "'Cause if you don't I'm gonna kick your ass."
"Wait!" I whispered, and grabbed at her arm. "Don't go out there!"
She looked at me like I was insane before rolling her eyes and walking toward the end of the alley.
But it was too late for me to stop her. I cringed as I pulled the blanket over my head and waited for the nightmare to be over.
The voices were very close now, fast footfalls slowing to stop at the end of the alley.
"Where did he go?"
"He definitely turned down here."
"God he's so fast. I think I'm gonna hurl…"
"C'mon Becky stop being such a wuss. We'll never catch him at this rate."
"Hey look, that girl must have seen him. Let's ask her."
My breath stopped. They'd seen the girl.
Okay, just calm the hell down, there's nothing you can do. Whatever is going to happen will happen, so shut the fuck up and stay still.
"Hey, did you see a guy run down this street?"
As I waited for alley-girl to give away my position, fear and bile rose thick in my throat. My body tensed, ready to flee.
"Oh… um… you mean the cute looking gay guy with the bronze hair? Blanket fetish?"
Fuck! Wait, did she just call me cute? And GAY?
The voices sounded perplexed.
"Uh, yeah, that sounds like him. Where'd he go?"
I heard feet shuffling, and I suddenly had no doubt that the girl was going to point them towards my pathetic cowering position, unleashing the terrifying beasts upon me.
"Um… well, he ran down toward the traffic lights and turned the corner," Alley-girl said. "He runs like a girl by the way."
Bitch. Bitch who just saved my ass, but bitch nonetheless.
"If you hurry you can probably still catch him. He was wheezing like an old man."
"Come on, you guys, let's go! Ahhhhhh!"
The screaming started up again, but it slowly faded as the girls ran down the street. I was only vaguely aware of footsteps heading my way before the blanket was ripped off me, and I stared up into blazing brown eyes. I squirmed slightly under the weight of her impressive glare.
"Now," she said through gritted teeth, "get the fuck out of my alley, asstard, and let me get some sleep."
I stood up, examining this strange girl who had just saved me.
She was a foot shorter than me, and her thick brown hair was matted and pulled back in a loose ponytail. She wore crumpled jeans and a thick flannel jacket that looked like it hadn't been washed in a while. Her intense gaze pretty much made my balls crawl back up into my body because despite our size difference, I was pretty fucking certain she could kick my ass if she really wanted to.
"Um… thanks… for doing that."
"I didn't do it for you, idiot," she said as she pushed past me and sat with her back against the wall. "I did it so I wouldn't have five teenage girls ripping you to pieces in my alley, making a huge damn mess and ruining my night even further."
She closed her eyes and huffed angrily, effectively dismissing me.
Who the fuck is this girl?
"Can you at least tell me your name?" I asked.
"Why do you want to know my name?" she spat, eyes still closed. "What possible difference could it make to your cosy little life?"
I let out a frustrated sigh. "Because I can't really call you 'alley-girl', and I'd like to know who to thank for -"
"I don't want your thanks."
Damn, this girl's bitch-switch was stuck in overdrive. I was seriously beginning to lose patience.
"Well that's too bad, lady, 'cause you're going to get my thanks whether you like it or not, so stop being so fucking abrasive."
Her eyes flew open at the word 'lady' and bore into mine. A slight smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth and I suddenly felt like a mouse looking into the face of a playful but dangerous cat.
"Well, well, well," she said. "What a filthy mouth on such a pretty boy." I rolled my eyes at her and sighed. "Settle down, sparky," she said, her voice softening a little. "Bella. My name is Bella Swan. Happy? Is you life now complete?"
For some reason my stomach lurched at her name. Well not specifically her name, but how she said her name. No, not how she said it but more the tone….
Oh fuck, you don't know what you're talking about anymore. She's right. You are an asstard.
"Well, pleased to meet you, Bella," I said extending my hand to her. "I'm-"
"I know who you are," she snapped, leaving my hand hovering between us. "You're Edward Cullen. Rock-star, tween-God and all round massive ass-munch."
I dropped my hand in surprise.
"Now get the fuck out of my alley, Cullen." She lay down and pulled the blanket up to her neck. "I'm tired, and I've had my quota of asstards for today."
Un-fucking-believable. As if my life didn't suck enough, I had to have Edward-fucking-God's-gift-to-rock-and-roll-Cullen choose this alley, of all possible alleys in LA, to hide from his rabid teenage fans.
And now he wasn't leaving, despite the fact that I'd asked him very nicely to fuck off.
Instead of fucking off, he was staring.
My eyes were closed but I could tell by the way the hairs stood up on the back of my neck that he was staring.
I sighed angrily and opened my eyes. He was looking down on me, a perplexed look on his face. I narrowed my eyes.
He blinked in surprise.
"Um… nothing," he muttered quietly. "It's just that-… is this…? Uh, I mean… how did you-? Ah, shit. I just want to know... do you live here?"
I groaned and looked him over.
Expensive black jeans? Check. Elegantly crumpled grey hoody? Check. Hugely expensive distressed leather jacket? Check. Just-been-fucked bronze hair? Check. Pity-party on his face just for me? Motherfucking check.
"No, genius, I don't LIVE here. What the fuck? What, you think that I use this as my home address? Hello, Pizza Hut? I'll have pepperoni with pineapple, please deliver to the stinky, rat-infested alley between Lexington and Vine?"
"Well, no… that's not what I-"
"I'm homeless, you dick! Meaning without a home! So no, I do not LIVE here. Jesus!"
He looked at me with a pained expression. I'd embarrassed him.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" He lowered his eyes to the pavement and shuffled his designer combat boots. "Shit… I am a dick." He sighed and ran his hand through his unruly hair.
I sighed as well. It had been a long day.
First I was woken up by Charlie, the Mad Hatter.
Charlie was a bit crazy. Well no, that's not quite right. Charlie was a lot of crazy wrapped in a blanket of super-crazy with some extra crazy on the side. But it came and went, and he was a lovable old guy. He used to be a policeman before he'd decided that lithium was evil and he didn't want to take it anymore, and slowly the voices in his head took over.
Eventually he lost his family, his home – everything. His one prize possession was the black-silk top hat he found in a dumpster behind a costume shop. I mean, the man smelled like a walking sewer, his beard was full of bits of half-eaten food and probably small undiscovered African tribes, and he hadn't bathed in years – but his black-silk top-hat was always pristine. Hence his nickname – The Mad Hatter.
Not terribly original, but certainly accurate.
I looked out for Charlie: made sure he ate, tried to get him to drink something other than cheap wine, but although I had real affection for the crazy bastard, sometimes he just really pissed me off.
And so it was this morning when I woke up to find him urinating on my shoes:
"Charlie! What the fuck are you doing!"
He blinked and focused blearily on my face.
"Hey, Bells. Just watering the plants, honey. It's going to be a hot one today."
I stood up and tried to shake the wetness from my boots.
"Jesus Christ, Charlie, could you go and peddle your crazy somewhere else today? I'm all full up."
He looked at me sadly as he re-zipped his pants and staggered away.
"Sorry, Bells," he muttered, and I suddenly felt like the biggest shit-heel in the world. "I'll see you later. Don't go falling in love with anyone else while I'm gone."
After that things had really started going downhill.
James, a local pimp, had been stalking me, trying to get me to work for him, but today I really wasn't in the mood for his shit, so I told him to go fuck himself and had punched him in the face.
Not a good move.
James had a temper and had retaliated by throwing me up against a wall, cracking my head on the bricks in the process. He'd mumbled something about me being a 'crazy, bitch-whore' before spitting on me and walking away.
My head had been pounding ever since, making me feel like I wanted to hurl. Of course it wouldn't really matter if I did since I hadn't eaten anything for nearly two days. So, feeling crappy and sorry for myself, I'd set up camp and gone to bed not long after the sun had gone down. I figured the thick shadow of crap that had been following me around all day couldn't continue to piss me off if I was unconscious.
But no, the universe had other plans.
To top off my day from hell, I was dragged from my comfy blanket in the middle of the night by a poor-little-rich-dick who was running like a pussy from a bunch of fifteen year olds.
And now I couldn't get rid of him.
Yeah, but he is very pretty.
Pretty fucking annoying.
Now come on, you think he's hot.
I do NOT!
Fine. Live in denial.
Shut the fuck up! Stupid subconscious.
Don't be like that.
My thoughts were interrupted by pretty-boy clearing his throat.
"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? Look, I know that you're grateful, blah, blah, blah… but seriously, dude, I've had a crappy day and all I want to do is go to sleep and forget about it. So get the fuck out of here! Please!"
I slumped back against the wall and hit my head on the same spot where James had played coconuts earlier. I hissed in pain and immediately felt a slow trickle of blood running down my scalp.
I shuddered as my vision started to swim in front of me.
I touched my hand to the back of my head, and when I felt the wetness, my stomach lurched.
I'd never been able to handle the sight or smell of blood, and I closed my eyes and breathed through my mouth, trying to push away the blackness. Gritting my teeth desperately, I started looking around for something to stop the bleeding.
"Jesus!" Pretty-boy exclaimed. "You're bleeding!"
I laughed weakly. "Brilliant powers of deduction, Holmes. Now fuck off."
I lurched onto my knees and grabbed my backpack, rooting through my small bag of belongings, trying to find an old t-shirt or sock.
Suddenly, I felt a warm hand hold something to my head.
Cullen had removed his jacket and had balled up his designer hoody. He was crouched in front of me and was holding it firmly against the wound.
"I have to get you to a doctor," he said softly, furrowing his perfectly sculpted brows.
Damn he's pretty.
Stop saying that!
And his voice sounds like honey.
And his hands are so warm.
Well I couldn't deny that.
And he smells good. Like a warm ray of sunshine on an overcast day.
I took a deep breath, meaning to draw in more of his scent, but forgetting about the sickly, coppery smell that affected me like Kryptonite. Black shadows started rushing into my head and I looked at him blearily.
"No doctors… I'll be... fine…" I mumbled, and then the blackness took me.
As I swam up into consciousness I knew something was wrong.
I was too comfortable.
Too comfortable and too warm.
My senses reached out, searching for something familiar.
Traffic rumbling past? Nope. The rancid smell of garbage and urine? Nope. Mikey Newton grabbing a quick feel of my tits before I'm conscious enough to kick his sorry wino ass? Nope.
What I could hear was a piano, playing gently nearby. I could smell… lilies and leather, and I could feel something deliciously soft wrapped around me.
I cuddled down in the silky-heaven, figuring that if this was a dream I could afford a few more minutes of bliss before coming back to my crappy reality. I rolled my head on the softness and winced as a sharp pain shot through to my brain.
I opened my eyes.
I was in an elegant hotel room, in a bed the size of a small country. There was a side table nearby with a huge vase of lilies-of-the-valley and I could see a luxury sized ensuite through the door on the far wall. A large leather sofa sat across the room in front of a cinema sized plasma screen.
I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto.
Who cares – Kansas is shit compared to this.
Man, these sheets feel good.
Yeah, Egyptian Cotton, baby. Probably around one thousand thread count?
Shut the fuck up, you don't know shit like that.
Sure, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.
You ARE myself, and obviously living on the streets has bred my own brand of crazy.
Oh, don't freak out. Everyone talks to themselves. You have something else you need to worry about at the moment.
Oh and do tell, what might that be?
Well, have you noticed that you can feel how soft these sheets are… everywhere.?
You don't mean…?
I mean EVERYWHERE.
Take a look.
I lifted the covers. I was completely naked.
My head exploded with rage.
I was sitting at my piano when I heard it: it was like someone had set a cat on fire, and then proceeded to REALLY piss it off. I walked to the double doors on the other side of the room and stepped inside.
"Oh, hey, Bella" I said as confidently as possible, desperately trying to avoid the chocolate-coloured laser beams that were shooting from her eyes.
"What... did... you... do?" she asked through clenched teeth.
I looked at her evenly, refusing to be scared by this small person.
You are a Rottweiler Cullen and she is a Chihuahua.
Yeah, a Chihuahua with jaws of steel and roid-rage.
"Bella, you passed out. You were bleeding. I brought you back here and had a doctor look at your wound."
Confusion passed across her face. It was adorable.
Adorable? Really? You're pulling out a word like 'adorable' on a chick you've just met? Jesus.
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, trying to digest my words.
"I was bleeding?" Comprehension flooded her face. "Oh… yeeahhh…"
I moved to the bed and sat on the edge, watching as she gingerly reached up and felt the dressing covering the twelve stitches the doctor had to use to close the wound.
"The doctor said you need to take it easy for a few days," I said softly. "He thinks you have concussion. He wanted to admit you to hospital for observation but I said I'd take care of you."
She looked at me sharply.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know I didn't," I snapped, feeling my anger start to build, "but I did. So shut the fuck up and be grateful."
I knew I was being harsh but this chick knew how to press my buttons, and not in a good way.
She exhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes. "Well then, would you like to tell me why, exactly, I'm naked?"
I raised my eyebrows. "You don't think that I….?"
"I don't know, Cullen," she said. "I mean here I am, alone in your hotel room, unconscious, in a giant bed, and completely clothes-less? What am I supposed to think?"
I stood up and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to control the burst of anger flashing through me.
"You are unbelievable! I bring you up here for medical attention and you think I... what? Violated you!"
She sat up, dragging the sheets with her, and I couldn't help glancing at the small amount of filthy cleavage peaking over the top.
"Can you blame me for thinking the worst?" she cried. "I've read all about you in the paper. You're an ex-junkie chain-smoker who's slept with everything with a vagina on the West Coast, and I wake up mysteriously naked in your bed. So why don't you just cut the bullshit and tell me what sort of pervy crap you perpetrated on my unconscious bod?"
I looked at her with disbelief and frustration. I probably would have laughed at her ridiculous accusation if I wasn't so fucking angry.
"For your information," I said slowly, desperately trying to calm myself, "the doctor had his FEMALE medical student strip off your clothes so he could fully examine you. I wasn't even in the damn room! And let me assure you I have no desire to do anything 'pervy' to you whatsoever, because you're an ungrateful, aggressive little bitch who smells like piss and has the personality of a rabid poodle!"
I stormed out of the room and slammed the double doors behind me, exhaling loudly as I leaned back and banged my head gently on the wood.
Once again, I'd let my anger get the better of me.
Good one Cullen. Rip the shit out of the poor little homeless girl with a head injury. You're a fucking hero.
I knew I should go back and apologize, but she was being a bitch, and I was being a dick, and being in the same room as each other right now was probably not the best idea.
See? This is why I don't help people. This is why I only give a crap about myself.
Fuck, I need a drink. And some drugs.
Instead, I went back to my piano and started playing country and western songs. The day had gone to shit anyway, might as well give it a soundtrack.
So...uh...yeah. Hope you liked it. If you did, leave me some love. If you didn't...um...leave me some love anyway? I'm extremely needy.