Married at 18
Summary: Bella wakes up married to Edward Cullen, who'd she's only just met. The problem? She's still a senior at FHS. The other problem? The judge orders them to stay married for a year as punishment for abusing the sanctity of marriage.
Song: Anti Love Song, Stereo Total
I never thought that the words, "You are to stay married for the duration of the year. And no, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen, this does not give you the permission to indulge in irresponsible adolescent sex just because you are legally married. Any pregnancies and I will not grant you an annulment, ever. In fact, I'll wrap this case up in so much red tape that your great-grandchildren will be present when you're finally able to even look at the divorce papers. Do I make myself clear?" would be the ones to ruin my life.
I always thought that words like, "Dear Ms. Swan, we regret to inform you that you have not been accepted to the Liberal Arts College of U of A," or "Sorry, Bella, you've twisted your ankle for the last time. Now you have to wear a permanent ankle brace for the rest of your life," would be the ones to surely do it.
I mean, I'm a fairly responsible teenager. I get good grades—of course, there's always room for improvement, but I'm not complaining. I come home every day and cook for my father, make sure he's getting enough sleep and cutting down on the beers he seems to love so much. I barely go out and party like a normal eighteen year old should. Really, the last party I'd been to that hadn't quite ended in a night of drunken sex and a marriage certificate had been my best friend Jacob's sixteenth birthday. The party before that had something to do with ponies and loudly colorful candy piñatas….
But still, after all of the good karma I've waved out during the last eighteen years of my life, you would think that I would be exempt, or at least granted a favor, of not waking up married after one night of a few drinks with friends. But no, apparently Karma was a crazy ass bitch heaping out injustices to unsuspecting, undeserving, individuals like me.
No, Edward Cullen—the sadistic, perverted, snob, Edward Cullen— probably deserved this fate, not me. Hell, there was nothing 'probable' about it! He absolutely deserved a fate like this. Especially after the way he swaggered into the courtroom, thick black designer shades on, hair in such a mess it could be deemed 'freshly fucked', and a pair of jeans (jeans!) and a t-shirt (a t-shirt!).
If that wasn't enough to seal us in the total debauchedness better known as our marriage, him showing up late, pulling out a fucking hanky (a hanky!) and snobbishly wiping down his chair and table, was.
After watching the judge turn three shades of purple, I sat back in my chair, totally resigned to my fate.
The rest of the day didn't go much better; meeting the parents was definitely on my list of "Moments Best Left Forgotten." Let's just say that the police chief putting together a night of drinks and a drunken marriage, ending in a night of deflowering his precious, innocent daughter meant cordial introductions wouldn't be expected.
His parents, on the other hand, were nice people… total opposites of the jerk they had the nerve to actually call 'son'. They handled themselves amicably, a far cry from Charlie's obtuse grunts and deadly vice grips around said jerk's neck.
After Charlie no longer felt the urge to "de-testicle-ize" the brat that had stolen his daughters "sacred pearl" (his words, not mine), we migrated to a place private enough to discuss arrangements, yet public enough not to get away with offing the bastard flown in from hell in a fully loaded Aston Martin.
The verdict? He would be moving from his home in Seattle, Washington to Forks, Washington—a small town with a population rivaling the size of a small elementary school—and will enroll in Forks High School for his senior year, which, in itself, was ecstatic news. I should be happy I didn't have to completely uproot my life, but when Dr. Cullen quoted the judge by saying that Edward and I were to actually have a normal marriage—which involved counseling, real jobs, school together, and living together—I found that those were quite possibly the words that would ruin my life.
I'm Isabella Cullen nee Swan, and this is my nightmare.
Last week, if someone asked me "hey Edward, what do you think about marriage?" After I laughed myself into hysterics, I'd say "Are you fucking kidding me? Edward Cullen never thinks of marriage." Because in reality, me thinking about marriage is like a serial killer facing the death penalty thinking about hell—I avoid all thoughts and images at all costs.
But just as hell eventually becomes unavoidable for that deranged serial killer, marriage has become unavoidable to me.
I've died and the devil, informally known as Isabella Swan has done a sufficient job at busting my balls, and not only that, she's doing a hell of a job at turning my eye to every wrong deed I've ever done in my life, causing me to want to make it better.
I mean just last night, I saw a water bottle lying on the ground beside the ramp on the expressway so I got out of my fucking car, walked over to the fucking thing, and picked it the fuck up. Seriously. My conscious was under the impression that if I waved out enough good Karma I'd wake up and find that this totally debauched marriage ma-thingy was all just a fucking dream—cough—nightmare—cough.
Of course when I woke up to Alice vibrating over me with a black velvet ring box in hand, explaining how no marriage should ever move forward without the bling—even a drunken one commenced inside of a minister's small living room that smelled like cat piss—I knew that Karma was a bitchy harpy.
I'd never thought I'd say it in a million years, but the last person I wanted to be was Edward Cullen right now.
I'm going back in to correct and add a few things before I update the 7th chapter. I know it's been forever, but I will be correcting this week and Thursday of next week I'll post the chapter everyone's been waiting for.