Based on the corresponding song "How Soon is Now" by The Smiths

"How to Disappear Completely" is by Radiohead

Chapter One: How to Disappear Completely

I sit in the plastic chair that I'm practically chained to, my messenger bag slumping against the chair on the floor. My hand is still clenched tightly around the strap as always, but that shit is just too heavy to hold in my lap. I can't fucking believe this is happening again.

Kapper is harping on and on, occasionally stopping to to fix the first two buttons on her 'blouse,' which always seem ready to pop off and hit me in the eye.

Gag me.

I've known her for way, way too long, and instead of bringing back nostalgia her office just seems to make me want to vomit. I've had enough with this shit. At age eleven I would have been excited to see her. Thirteen I would have been hopeful. Fifteen I cried and screamed like a fucking baby and hope was more foreign to me than Slovakia and the Netherlands.

Seventeen and I'm done. So fucking done. Seven years of done.

I pretend to zone out while actually listening, the opposite of what most people tend to do. I need to know about this Carlisle character but if she actually knows I'm listening to the blabber that comes out of her mouth she might have a fucking heart attack from the shock.

She goes on and on, telling me little details I don't need to know, like how his house is surrounded by trees and the school has a student body of 340, the majority of them having lived there their entire lives.

Seriously? The hell do I need to know that for, huh?

"...he's a doctor, so he'll be extremely capable of helping you, and he has two other adopted children, and what do you know Edward, being around them might actually give you someone to talk to..."

Blah blah blah blah blahhh.

Wait. What?

"Two other children?" I ask her, and as I'd predicted she glances up from her file in total shock. I think she would have been less surprised if I was deaf and had suddenly gained the ability to hear.

I would have rolled my eyes, but anxiety stopped me from fucking breathing.

What I'd predicted was that I'd live in some big ol' house while Carlisle or Darlisle or whatever his name was, worked away at whatever hospital, convincing himself he wasn't lonely or fucked up or what ever he was in his privileged life by having some charity case at his house, while also conveniently never being home.

But kids? If I had to play tea time with some pink little princess or throw ball around with some lanky little kid one more time, I'd shoot myself.

She finally gets over herself.

"Yes, a son and a daughter, both of whom I believe to be around your age. They'll attend the same school as you."

Well. The plot thickens. I didn't know whether to be grateful at the thought of no tea parties or cringe at the thought of...teenagers.

Maybe I should have stuck with wishing for the tea parties. At least then I got those little cookies. Easy Bake ovens aren't bad.

I pretend that this doesn't bother me at all and she observes my reaction with that psycho analytical shit as always.

"He'll be here soon Edward...he flew in from..."

And here it comes.

"...and I really, really, hope you'll do well with him. He's worked very hard to obtain you and he-"

Obtain me. Like I'm some shiny shoe he saw at Men's Warehouse or some shit that he asks to have delivered in the mail. Well, he's not gonna "like the way I look".

Obtain me my ass.

"-you'll do wonderfully in a smaller town with fewer people around you-"

Kapper talks like she knows every single thing about me that there is to know. Most of the time I think she does it because she enjoys feeling like her little mind can understand the fucked up world of me. She's wrong ninety fucking nine percent of the time but she is right about one thing.

I fucking hate being surrounded by people.

She shuts the thick folder shes been flipping through, pushing her hair back and folding her hands on the desk.

"I really predict this will be a good thing Edwards, I have a good feeling," she says confidently, and I just roll my eyes again. She can't predict the future in the first place, and secondly, given my previous "experiences" her prediction is just...stupid.

The phone on her desk rings and she looks down at it quickly, her expression panicking as she shoves herself away from the desk (which takes an effort) and stands, smoothing her skirt and running a hand over the top of her hair, a movement that signifies new parent time. Yay!


She mumbles her words and I don't know what she's trying to say half because I'm not paying attention and half because she never makes sense when she's nervous.

She leaves the room and I'm left clutching my messenger bag for dear life as the old clock in the corner ticks away, tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick, ticking away more of my life as I sit in the office of Julia Kapper, my forty something social worker who has known me since age ten when God or whoever is really up there decided that my life wasn't entertaining enough for them.

At age seventeen I've had enough. One more year with Darlisle or Douchelile or whatever his name is and then I am done with the social system set up by the government of this ohsofantastic country. One more year and I' Detached. Done.

I hear Kapper before she reaches the door, her nervous giggles followed by a much deeper voice and then she and whats-his-name are in the room but I refuse to turn around.

She sits behind her desk again, her buttons really, really close to popping out and permanently blinding one of my eyes or maybe both with my luck, and gestures for the man to sit in the shitty chair next to me, which he does.

I don't look away from the clock.

"Edward Mason," she says, "this is Carlisle Cullen."

My gaze stays fixed on the clock. C. C. clears his throat and his deep voice floats over to me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Edward. I look forward to having you under my care."

I move my eyes from the clock to his face, without turning my head, and finally take a look at him.

He's young, but not that young, with hair so blond it looks like it's been bleached. His eyes are a clear blue that match his cliché doctor scrubs.

And his expression is a calm I want to wipe off his face.

He sits there, blinking his eyes calmly at me as he waits for my response, which I of course being the smart fuck that I am don't give.

Kapper clears her throat. "Edward, dear... please, don't be difficult."

I roll my eyes, and then they're back on the clock. "Hi."

I don't know how C.C responds to this and I don't really care.

I focus my eyes on the black minute hand, watching it move so slowly that it almost seems hesitant as it makes it's way down the side of the clock. C.C. is being given my entire fucking life story and my ears twitch as he continues to nod his blond head solemnly, like some bobble head doll with a manufacturer's defect in the spring.

When Kapper is finally done baring my freaking soul C.C. responds with a much enthusiastic and intelligent "I see." I almost laugh at the alliteration but settle for a smirk as my eyes rip away from the hands of the clock and onto his Hitler approved features.

But he's is still calm. My smirk falls immediately. My anger grows because I know he will look up at me any moment now, pity in his Acuve contacts blue eyes. Pity or horror. Or both.

Instead C.C gets a bunch of forms ("final paper work," Kapper calls them as she giggles nervously). He fills them out diligently, a shiny black pen in his hand.

I stare at him, watching his hand as he fills out the sheets the let him finalize gaining physical custody of yours truly as if he is applying for car insurance rather than signing up to take care of another human being. A severely fucked up human being at that.

When he's done he looks up at me and asks, "If you'd like to get the rest of your things we can leave now."

I give him the dirtiest look I can manage. "This is it."

He looks just a little perplexed but I smile anyway. Maybe were talking about more than just "my things" but whatever. The sooner he learns I'm not exactly gonna jump into his arms with a "Daddy I've been waiting for you!" or some other shit like that, the better.

Him and Kapper exchange some more idle dialog and then he's standing and she's standing and oh this is the part where I leave this office.

Kapper looks so anxious that if I didn't know any better I would think that she was glad to get rid of me. Ha.

She swallows, giving me a soft "Goodbye Edward."

I just look at her, and then at the clock again. Time means nothing. "Bye."

We leave the office. We're in the parking lot. We're in front of a black Mercedes. With tinted windows and leather seats and all that.

C.C. doesn't say anything. He unlocks the doors. I get in. Goodbye Chicago.

This isn't happening.

We're at an airport. Lovely.

I'm not here.

We're on a plane. First Class. C.C. falls asleep as soon as his head hits the back of his seat rest. I break into a coughing fit when an air hostess asks if I'd like a glass of champagne after she notices how tightly my hands are clutching the arm rests.

That's not me.

We're in Seattle. We switch from the plane into another Mercedes, identical to the one we'd been in before and C.C. apologizes repeatedly for "falling asleep on me". He tries to ask me questions about what I like ("Nothing really"), what sports I play ("None"), what my favorite food is ("Don't have one") and on and on. He stops when he realizes I'm not really answering his little get to know you questionnaire.

We're in the rainiest, gloomiest, most dreary town I have ever seen and it looks like God simultaneously pucked up some trees and dirt but swallowed before the sun could come out.

This isn't happening.

We're here. We're...."home".

I'm not here. This isn't happening.

"Home" is a big ass mansion that probably cost more that everything I and anyone around me has ever owned and then some. It's literally in the middle of the freakin' woods, surrounded by green, green and some more green. The green overlaps with the brown tree trunks until you can't really see anything but that. If it's not depressing then it's the perfect location to film a horror movie. I can just imagine the blood all over the green. Maybe a Christmas-gore flick? Do they even have those?

C.C. is muttering some crap about beans or something and I can tell that all he really wants to do is sleep so I get out of the car even before he does and I resist the urge to gawk at the massiveness in front of me until he follows me. Together we walk to the big wooden double doors that more green ivy moss crap is growing over. Green is starting to become my least favorite color. I stand with the strap of my bag clutched tightly in my hand and he's holding his little doctor suitcase and he blinks a couple times at me before opening the doors, which are conveniently unlocked.

I swear, when Freddy, Jason, or Jigsaw or whoever comes up the mile long driveway and tries to chop my skin off to make nice little vests and stuff I am so reporting C.C.'s ass to the social services. Silence of the Edward my ass.

The foyer is big enough to be a bedroom, complete with this big golden chandelier and gold framed mirror on the wall where my reflection stares back at me anxiously, as if to say "absolutely what the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

C.C. smiles at me in the I-really-need-a-bed way that he does and we're through the long hallway filled with random paintings and into a giant cubed shaped room where the walls separating the kitchen, living room, and dining room seem to be invisible.

Wide, marble stairs magically emerge from the right corner, and the wall facing us is made completely of glass, reflecting the room instead of the outside because it's dark. Shiny, shiny, glass. I stand mesmerized by it, trying not to seem horrified or god forbid impressed in the slightest as Carlisle puts down his crap onto the shiny granite counter in the kitchen. Everything is so...shiny.

The T.V is turned on in the living room/sofas/cushions/crap corner and I don't notice the girl sitting there until Carlisle walks towards her. I barely have time to notice that the T.V is playing the episode of Malcolm in the Middle where he doesn't say anything he's thinking until he gets an ulcer before its turned off and she stands.

Teenager number one, I'm guessing.

Clad in a gray sweatshirt big enough to fit me and a couple other guys, she has long, long, brown hair and matching eyes. Said eyes see me and then we're looking directly at each other and she's...really pale. Except her lips. They're bright pink.

C.C. clears his throat and her big brown eyes leave mine as she steps forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"Bean," C.C. says, "this is Edward." What the fuck kind of girl name is Bean? Or boy name really? Or even a...never mind.

"Edward, this is my daughter, Bean," he gestures towards long hair and big brown eyes (yeah I definitely see the similarities...not) and she still doesn't say anything. She just stares at me. With her big brown eyes.

Well, I'm pretty good at doing that too. We're back to staring at each other for god knows how long and I'm aware the look I'm giving her probably isn't the friendliest and even more aware that she still hasn't looked away.

Seconds pass. Minutes? C.C. must be really fucking tired, or just completely retarded when it comes to social atmospheres because he doesn't say anything or do anything but take off his coat and then continue to look at us with his arms crossed.

The brown eyes don't even blink but then they move to Carlisle and then back to me and then she's talking.

"My name's really Bella. They just call me Bean."

Who is they?

"My name's really Edward. They just call me Edward," I find myself replying and she...smiles at me.

"Are you guys hungry? There's still some lasagna in the fridge."

C.C. comes back to to life again. He glances at me and my unresponsiveness before saying, "We're okay sweetheart, we ate right before we got off the plane."

She nods her head at him and then sits back down again on the sofa, turning on the T.V just as Malcom spits blood all over his basketball coach. C.C. comes over to where I'm still standing, in the entrance between the hallway and the cube room. He looks at me with his calm bobble head face again, blinking slowly and not making a sound.

"Beanie, will you show Edward to his room please?"

She looks away from the T.V briefly and looks at Carlisle looking at me.

"Of course." The long hair faces me again and the brown eyes are on the T.V. Lois, Malcolm's mother, is questioning Malcolm how it is possible for him to get a stress induced ulcer at his age.

C.C. smiles at me, looking awkwardly like he really wants to say something else. Or maybe he's just tired. His arm reaches out and then he touches my shoulder briefly. I try very, very hard not step away. The smile thing is really not needed. Or the touching thing.

"Good night Edward," he mumbles. He turns and starts to walk up the stairs. "I'll see you in the morning Jelly Bean."

The episode ends and she turns, smiling at him. "Sweet Dreams." Oddly enough he chuckles, the sound echoing down the stairs. Where's mommy C?

She faces me, the rolled up sleeves of her sweatshirt falling down, and tucks a couple strands of her hair away from her face and I realize that I'm still standing in the doorway.

And then she bites her lip and I'm sure this is where she'll start to question me. Where am I from? How many years have I survived life? Exactly how fucked up am I?

She blinks at me with those big ass brown eyes and then asks, "Do you wanna come watch T.V with me?"

What? My expression must have looked incredulous because the next thing that comes out of her mouth is:

"I...I-um never mind." Her cheeks are pink like she's blushing or something.

There's the lip biting again. She looks up at me from where she's sitting and then quickly turns back to the T.V

I find my self walking over to the sofa thing diagonally across from her. She looks up again, watching me sit down and practically drown in the thing, it's that soft and cushion-y. I place the my bag next to my feet.

She's still looking at me, pink cheeked and all.

"Do you have a brother?" Where the fuck did that come from? Does she consider him her brother? Is he even a he? Maybe there's just two of her. Big Ass Brown Eyes 1 and Big Ass Brown Eyes 2. 2's name would probably be Taco.

She blinks a couple times before responding. Her eyelashes look like they take effort to lift. "Emmett? Yeah...he's at Rosalie's house...that's his girlfriend," she gets an odd look on her face before continuing, "he's eighteen."

I nod.

An episode of House starts to play and she watches as the theme song plays with more attention than I would have ever thought necessary for a T.V show. The big brown eyes are even bigger and browner up close.

Someone's touching my arm. My eyes are open and ahh...that's unnecessarily bright.



It takes a few second to figure out that the person touching me is Jelly Bean...Bella.

Her hand flies off my arm just as I sit up. The T.V is still on, but playing stupid infomercials about blankets with sleeves or something.

"You fell asleep," she says, doing that lip biting thing again, "I didn't know whether to wake you or not..."

I glance at the clock and it flashes three A.M. I can't for the life of me remember what the time difference between Chicago and Forks is or if there even is one.

"It's late," she continues, her voice so soft that it almost convinces my sleep riddled mind that her talking is really me imagining.

I want to ask her why she isn't asleep if it's so late but I don't. Instead I just stand up, causing her to back away from me, and reach for my bag.

And it's not fucking there.

"I put your bag in your room for you," she says quickly, her expression worried and anxious.

I don't know why she seems to care so much about offending me but the inner asshole in me shuts his mouth and does the only other thing he knows how to do.

I stare at her for a good three minutes before she bites her lip again and says, her face pinker than ever, "Your rooms the first one up the stairs, on the right. The bathroom's the third door down."

I nod at her and she asks me whether she should show me.

I shake my head. I've never really claimed to be all that social, you know.

I make my legs go up the marble stairs with some mental effort. Without even thinking about what I'm doing I open the first door I see, fumbling for a light switch on either until I find it very conveniently several feet from the door. It's a simple room: there's a bed, two nightstands on either side, a desk in one corner, two wide doors on one side that are what I assume to be closet.

I want to look around some more, but I'm so tried I can barely register that I'm in a complete stranger's house, surrounded by people named Douchelile and Bean or something let alone explore my new room (haha), so I just lay down on the bed, sneakers still on and everything, glance at my bag sitting next to my pillow, and proceed to pass out.

I'm not really here. Am I?

A/N: Please review! Let me know your thoughts.