I wrote this for a dumb reason that I won't get into.
I posted it because I suddenly remember this existed.
I can't believe it. I really can't. I'm sort of crying right now so excuse the splotches on the paper. What am I even talking about, you are an inanimate object and don't have the ability to excuse or inexcuse anything anyway. Whatever.
Okay, so I haven't been writing in this thing for a while. I started the day counter thingy over, too. Well, I have been writing. But it was mostly angry, explosion-heavy, murderous scribbles, all of them STRANGELY involving Edward. That was from those couple awful months in which I was either alone or with him.
Actually the reason I don't have those in this diary is because that fucking therapist confiscated them, leaving me without something to stare at in my trying moments, but whatever. I'm past that now. I'm past that. Honest.
So what happened was, and I don't know why I feel the need to expound on my personal history to a stupid book, I spent several months with nothing but my dad and Edward for company. Some friends dropped by, and I still had my phone, but still. I can't even IM, due to the extreme shittiness of my computer. The only light I had was Jacob Black, my boyfriend. My actual, real, mutual boyfriend who is not Edward and who did not once put on body glitter and did not once kidnap me. Not once!
Well, this boyfriend dumped me.
This is just Mike all over again, except worse. I thought we were serious. I don't know, maybe it was stupid, but I thought it was for real, and now he just left…and worst of all, even before that he was becoming, for lack of a better word, Edwardy.
It's that stupid gang he joined. Whenever I ask him about it, he gets all dodgy and evasive and says he's not allowed to tell me and acting as though it's this huge serious business. That's not the worst part. The worst part, is that once I got him to tell me what the deal with the gang was, he told me it was werewolves.
Yeah, werewolves. And he says, of course, that he can't "change" in front of me because he'll lose control and maul me or something.
I would say that this town is crazy, except he doesn't even live in this town. Maybe this whole state. Maybe the water in Oregon is just spiked with the crazysauce. I've been drinking the crazysauce, too, though, so I guess that means I'm crazy too. Whatever. I don't even know.
I'm just confused and sad. Which is an okay thing for a teenager to be sometimes, I guess. I think what I need to escape and go somewhere that's not real for a while, and not full of crazy people, either.
I'm not 21 yet, but there's no law about that on the La Push reservation, and some of my friends are going there later tonight. I am going to get so shitfaced I will never completely breathe cleanly again. My face will be a literal piece of shit. That shitfaced.
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
Diary, I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I can't remember the last day or so. I remember having to tell my dad repeatedly that I was okay with him taking a fishing weekend, I remember being picked up and taken to the bar, laughing with my friends and trying to forget about Jacob, I remember drinking a lot…and then nothing.
Where's my phone? I finally got one after years of inconvenience and lot of good that's doing me. Dad can't answer anyway. He's away fishing the whole weekend, they don't get reception out there.
Oh god oh god oh god. What did I do. What the fuck did I do. I have to assess the damage now, I'll write later oh god oh god oh god.
Still Day ?
Why am I in a dress? I don't own a dress like this.
What more, why am I in a really skanky, cheap-ass, white dress? I look terrible in white.
Shit. This is a wedding dress isn't it shit shit shit shit shit.
Still Day ?
WHERE DID THIS RING COME FROM WHERE OH GOD WHAT THE HELL
I AM GOING MURDERKILL SOMEONE SO HARD WHEN I GET MY SHIT TOGETHER AND FIGURE OUT WHAT HAPPENED.
Okay okay calm down no on has to die it's gonna be fine. Who's this douchebag, anyway? Did I have sex with him last night? I mean I'm not a virgin, but drunken stranger sex isn't totally okay with me. Or, like, at all.
Still Day ?
That's Edward Cullen.
Edward Cullen is asleep in a hotel room that I am in when I am wearing a cheapass ring on my left ring finger and a skanky wedding dress.
I TAKE THAT BACK
MURDERKKILLING WILL DEFINITELY TAKE PLACE
AND IT WILL BE DIRECTED AT HIM.
Day Who Gives a Fuck
Okay. I am trying very hard to write calmly through the blinding rage I am currently experiencing, so excuse me if my writing is a little wavery. Even though you're a diary and you can't excuse anything. We've been over this.
The good news is that I did not have drunken sex with Edward Cullen.
The bad news is that I am now married to him.
As soon as I finish recording this for posterity I will punch his face with my newly-acquired ring hand until he explains everything, agrees to annul the marriage, and buys me a puppy.
Because I need a fucking puppy right now I swear to god.
Day Don't Give a Shit
I'm currently being driven by a rather bruised and bloody (my proud work right there) Edward home from Vegas—yes, Vegas, Nevada.
Vegas, Nevada, where I just became the proud Mrs. Cullen.
It's in my papers and everything, all totally legal. Bella Cullen. That is my name now. Bella Cullen.
I already had a breakdown over this a while ago, I'm just transcribing the barest dregs of it for you benefit, diary.
This is what happened, near as I could tell from Edward's flowery bullshit:
I apparently got so drunk in my misery that I was willing to take comfort even from Edward Cullen. I don't know what happened to my friends and why they didn't come to my rescue. Maybe they all secretly hate me, maybe they thought I was actually cool with Edward all of a sudden—I don't know how drunk I was, I didn't actually think it was possible for me to get drunk enough to tolerate this asshole for extended periods of time, but WOOPS, GUESS I WAS PRETTY WRONG THERE, HUH? I guess we talked and I let slip that my boyfriend dumped me, and also "is" a werewolf. Apparently Edward has this thing about werewolves.
Yeah, werewolves and vampires are mortal enemies or something, and he only even risked going to La Push because it was my safety. And some truce or another was in danger of being broken and blah blah blah who gives a fuck I mean really.
But because I was incapacitated completely and Edward was thus in charge of me, he did not, naturally, do the sane thing and drive me home. At this point I'm not even considering that an option. With Edward, there is only the disturbing, and the wildly disturbing. No, what Edward did is interpret one of my drunken slurrings as an actual desire I had—or maybe he just pretended that's what he heard to get his sick fantasies to be reality, I don't even know—and drove me down to Vegas to get us hitched.
Dude drives like maniac. Sort of unsurprising that he got me from Oregon to Nevada before I passed out. Which I did as soon as we finished the ceremony and got back to a hotel room. Luckily Edward is disturbing enough to marry a drunk girl several states away, but not wildly disturbing enough to have sex with her passed-out body.
Speaking of driving like a maniac he's getting dangerously fast again. Time to yell at him some more.
And then maybe later some murderkilling. Dunno. Depends on my mood.
Day Fuck Everything
Got back to Forks.
Dad came home a couple hours later.
I stayed awake long enough to explain to him in my own words and write this down.
So tired. Can't deal with anything.
Oh god I'm Bella Cullen oh my god.
I'm not Bella Cullen anymore. The marriage was annulled and everything. I am Bella Swan. Bella Swan Swan Swan Swan Swan. No Cullens in sight!
I'm not sure what's going to happen to Edward now—I'm pretty sure marriage on false pretenses is a crime, but he didn't actually rape me or anything. I mean I'm sure I would have noticed that. Though they did ask me repeatedly, again and again and again.
With good reason I guess.
God imagine if we had had sex. I might have gotten pregnant. We would bear horrible delusional angry children and raise them to be as bad as both of us. Oh, sorry, horrible little half-vampire children. Whose uncles are all werewolves. Yeah. Snrrrrrk.
Aunt Stephenie flew in from Arizona to fuss all over me and gab with dad and find out what all this ruckus about little Bella getting married was. Auntie Steph was always a bit loopy and really Mormon, but I like her plenty. I sat her down with some tea (using bottled water to boil—god knows Auntie Steph doesn't need to be drinking the same crazysauce the rest of us are). I told her everything, sipping tea in my pajamas. I left out the rude words and stuff and most of my freakouts—like I said, really Mormon—but she got the whole story.
She said it was almost sort of romantic.
Like I said, sort of loopy.