A/N- Okay, so I was just looking at this story's chapter information and apparently every chapter I've updated with is roughly at least three to five hundred words longer than the previous. I've already written the longest chapter I ever have in the last chapter, so I need this one to be about three thousand. So good luck to myself with writing more than double my average. Heh, that's the reason this took so long to get up.
Another thing- For anyone reading this who has also read my story, Fifth Wheel, first off- thanks. 8D. But no, seriously, I've been brain dead on how to continue that story lately. Extreme writer's block, you might say. But I have an idea and I'd just like to let the readers know that even though it may seem that way, I haven't given up on it.
That being said, read on.
Apparently, when you're stuck in the damn hospital not only do you lose track of time, you also get bored. The kind of bored that makes you aware of every place that the floor may creak in the lightest sense, where the glare of the television is at it's worst, and even marital problems between two of the doctors who I didn't even know. Apparently the she-doctor was sleeping with the he-doctor's brother and he was not too happy.
Yes, that sort of pathetic boredom.
I finally resolved into getting my mom to sneak my I-pod in. Well, not really sneak because I wasn't really sure if they were allowed in the hospital, and plus my mom didn't even know about it. I just made myself cut the attitude one day and let my mother into see me. I asked her to bring me my purse that my I-pod Nano just happened to be in. Well . . .whatever, I think you get the point of my boredom.
Every day seemed to hold the time of months- seemingly interminable. I continued to disregard anybody who came to see me. None of my friends showed up, which only slightly surprised me. Deep down, it hurt me like an internal paper cut- fresh and deep. However, no matter what hurt me I wouldn't express it- no, I would just turn more bitter.
The hospital staff rarely reacted to my…bitchiness in a manner that would be found offensive. They just smiled sadly at me and continued on what they were doing. All I could think about was how they could even act so indifferent? They acted like nothing I said bothered them- not even when I told this nerdy looking he-nurse that he should join a ballet with his scrubs. He just looked at me like I was something to take pity on. Like I was pathetic.
I was so sick of everybody looking at me with the same thing in their eyes-pity. I was not some damn charity case!
On Friday, I was listening to my I-pod Nano, half in and half out of consciousness. It was around four in the afternoon, and I was singing in a whisper along to what was perhaps the most over-played song to exist.
"Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night skyAre like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)"
I sang softly along with Hayley Williams' voice. The words of 'Airplanes' by B.O.B. and Hayley Williams actually meant a lot to me. Although a bit overrated, it was so true. It had a deep meaning for me, even if it was a bit messed up. If I could have used a wish, I would have wished to go back…to make sure I had never went to the movies that night. To wish I would have never walked home alone…
On Friday, later in the evening, my doctor came in to tell me I could go home the next Thursday, just a few weeks after the attack. He said that my recovery was favorable, and that he was very happy with the results. That was all fine and dandy until he offered me the name to a mother fucking shrink. He almost sounded sincere when he gave me the number, but my reaction sure as hell wasn't as sincerely fake. Fucking ass whole.
The whole rest of my stay was sort of pointless and annoying as I was bothered beyond common belief. Thursday was great…kind-of-sort-of. Well, I was able to go home. That was a good thing- the hospital was driving me insane. Also, apparently all my bruises were yellowed out. I had a red cast on my right arm, which had been fractured, and a deep cut along my right thigh but Doctor Turner had insisted it wouldn't be permanent. If it turned out to be, there would be hell to pay.
On the very, very negative side- there was my father. He hadn't visited me once during my stay -which I was kind of glad he didn't- but still! Perhaps he was embarrassed of me, or maybe even disgraced. Knowing my father, he probably thought I was a whore.
Living in a wealthy family is great, don't mistake my intentions, but there are some negative sides to the money. First of all, somebody has to work to earn the money. Or had to, rather, somewhere down the line. My family was no different- I was from old money, yes, but that didn't mean my parents weren't workaholics. My father was a lawyer- like the type a president would consider. As in, he probably charged thousands of dollars just to talk to him. From what I heard, though, he was damned good at what he did. My mother, on the other hand, was pretty much a business woman.
Another negative sign to having a well-known last name and being a part of a well-respected family was the standards. You always had to be perfect- because heaven's knows what would happen if you were human and screwed up. The woman would probably gossip and spread rumors like they were in high school again, which was completely uncalled for and utterly ridiculous.
It was on the way home when a bitter side of me sneered, Won't be too comfortable when daddy's little girl was found naked after loosing her virginity? I scowled out the window of my mother's car, sitting in the passenger's seat and glaring at the beautiful scenery that we sped past.
When we pulled up to our house, it was like déjà vu.
My house was one to envy- of course. It was large with a nice green yard, a wrap around porch which had a nice arrangement of flowers surrounding it. Most were roses or lilacs, but all looked beautiful in the arrangement. We had a circular driveway which was more like a loop because on end led to the garage which was larger than life. Kidding, but it was larger than your average house- complete with two levels. It had a picket fence surrounding the backyard, but the rest of the lawn was very open.
I looked over at my mother's beautiful face which seemed like it's normal determined expression. My eyes trailed from her pretty bluish grey eyes to her small nose, then to her thin lips that are pursed as if she is attempting to solve some equation or problem. Like that's anything new, though. I bit my lip as I feel the car stop, and my mother's hands fidget with the car's controls and keys for a moment before pulling the key out of the ignition. She looked at me and gave me a very unconvincing smile. "Welcome back home, Rosalie." She whispered before kissing my forehead. I didn't know how to respond so I just waited until she pulled away and got out of the car. When she did so, I just looked outside the driver's side window and stared at my own beautiful car two spots over, looking abandoned.
After what seemed like hours, I tore my eyes away from my beautiful BMW and opened the car door. I swung my feet so they touched the cement of the garage floor. I swiftly wobbled my way to the garage side door, and walked out of the garage. The stone walking path from the garage to my house wasn't really all that long, and soon I walked in to the back entrance to my house. The back door is actually sliding glass, and leads in to the kitchen. I ran my finger tips naughtily against the spotless glass, leaving a small but noticeable streak. I slid the door closed, biting my lip as I admired the all-to-familiar kitchen area.
Of course, the kitchen wasn't nearly as used as the bar in the basement was. Well, probably because the basement was the movie room, and was where my parent's just adored to go to spend quality time together late at night. Get drunk after work and screw. I probably wouldn't have ever found out if it weren't for finding a condom wrapper hanging out by the garbage. It both scarred me for life and let me know why the bar seemed to be their hot spot when nobody was over.
I can't say I blame them for their physical relationship though. My mother's drop dead gorgeous. Plus, isn't there all of those stories about how lawyers are known for hiring prostitutes or strippers? I rather know my father's tagging my mother's ass instead of some random whacko off the street. Although knowing that I'm awake and home, most times, while they're off 'watching movies' isn't always a comforting feeling. Nobodies that comfortable about their families sex life.
I smirked and walked slowly out of the kitchen to the other parts of my house. It was almost eerie- like some stupid scene in a horrible horror movie that everybody loves yet is totally overrated. I walked up the staircase carefully- and truth be told, a bit lazily as well. I was tired, and well- I missed my bed. I missed my bed like a fat kid misses a Hershey's store. I had been to one of those before when I went to New York City, but it was kind of boring.
I moved sluggishly up the stairs and took a deep breath when I hit the hallway. The strong scent of toasted cinnamon slammed harshly in to my nostrils- but dear god was the over powering smell delicious. My mouth practically watering,
I made my way down the dimly lit hallway, the scent become stronger. All my confusion went away when I spotted three large crimson candles on a stand, the flames eating the whicker in a hurry- keeping itself alive. I raised an eyebrow, studying the wonderfully candles. Around the middle of the largest one's glass exterior was a ribbon that sagged down a bit. I used my fingers to carefully tilted it up and read the design.
'Turning Stone Casino and Resort', I read. I raised my other eyebrow in confusion. Wasn't Turning Stone Casino is New York? I stared at the ribbon- I didn't remember my parents going to New York in the last few months. If my mother had gotten it before then, she would have lit it because we both adored the intoxicating scent.
Like a light bulb breaking -no, not going off, breaking- inside my head my eyes widened in shock. No, he wouldn't have. But that would have explained why….
Did my father really abandon me at the hospital to go live it up on the other side of the country? My hand flew off of the ribbon and my teeth forcefully ground together. What the hell did he do there? Did he cheat on my mom with a bunch of sluts? Did he gamble his money away? Or worse, did he pick up some liking of alcohol? Hell, he already loved alcohol.
I glared at the candle that was still letting off the addicting odor, and then the two smaller ones on the side of it. Against my will I felt a painfully hot tear trickle down my cheek, leaving the trail to feel cold in comparison after it fell off of my face.
In anger and shock, I blew the largest candle out with a rather blunt breath. I narrowed my eyes as I made my way further down the hallway, a few new tears making new soft pink trails down my face. When I made it to the very end of the hallway, I gave a gentle push to the last door on the left. I never really had to 'open' it, because unless you slammed it closed, my door didn't actually shut. I think it had something to do with the gears, perhaps?
I shook my head fiercely, walking slowly to my bed. I sighed, plopping down on my bed gracelessly , then pulled myself so I was laying down. I rolled over so I was laying on my stomach and held a pillow close to my body. I just laid there, letting the tears plummet off my face and onto my satin pillow case. My body began to violently shake as I cried. The first time I cried at home since I was fourteen, and I wanted to make damn sure it would be my last.
After a while I began to become tired, but I was …awaken by a hard knock on my door. After a few moments of composing myself I managed to mutter, "What?" While my face was still against the pillow.
"Rosalie," My mother's voice was unusually soft. I heard my door creak slightly, which meant she opened it.
"Yeah?" I asked, my voice gruff and my throat scratchy.
"Chief Swan just called,"
"Rosalie, it's time for you to formally talk to him. He wants you to come down to see him. I told him you were available right now."
That got my attention.
"What?" I demanded, my head snapping back up as I looked at her like she had three heads.
My eyes must have given away that I had been crying because she looked saddened when she saw me, "Oh Rose…"She whispered, walking towards me, "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.
"No." I snapped, my voice sounding much colder than I had intended it to sound. I whipped my pillow at the wall and sat up on the edge of my bed, glaring at the door with every intention of ignoring my mother.
"That's fine. Whenever you feel like talking about it-"
I rolled my eyes at her stupidity. "No, I'm not going." I amended.
My head whipped around to face her. Her face had her regular stern look about it- that was it. She had thought things had went back to normal. "No. Don't you fucking try to tell me different." Now it was her turn to look at me like I had three heads. I never swore at my parents. Ever. "I don't think you give a fuck about me," I accused through narrowed eyes. "I think you just care about what everybody thinks about you." I sneered. "How this comes back to bite you in the ass." I jabbed a finger in her direction. "How your reputation is effected." I hissed, standing up and my left arm rested against my hip- my right arm still held up, my finger pointing accusingly at her. "You selfish bitch!" I screamed at her, my eyes letting a few tears seep through unwillingly.
I excepted one of three things to happen. One possibility was her to scream at me. Another was her to hug me. The possibility I was most hoping for was her to just leave me alone. I didn't guess in my wildest dreams what she would have done.
She slapped me across the face so hard it left s stinging sensation. "Don't you dare accuse me of not caring about you, Rose. "She murmured. I, of course, was rendered speechless like a retard and just stared at her in shock.
Taking advantage of my emotion state, my mother grabbed my arm roughly and tugged me down the hall way (the middle candle was re-lit, I couldn't help but notice), down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into her car. Once in her car I crossed my arms and glared, once again out the stupid window.
That night was the first time I had told somebody my story. I told Chief Swan every detail that made me shudder. He was , this time, rendered speechless, and just looked at my with pity deep in his eyes. It felt great to get it off of my chest, but the pity felt like a slap in my face. I vowed that never again would anybody be told by my lips what had happened to me. The pity was almost as painful.
A/N- Eh, close enough to the word count I wanted. Soo….who wants to see Emmett? I promise in the next chapter you will finally meet the Cullen's.
Oh, my genius brain came up with a new idea. Tell me what you think about the idea in your *review*. Okay, so starting now, whoever reviews to whatever chapter, when I post another chapter, I will PM you the chapter I'm posting in Emmett's POV! So, review and get the upcoming chapter in Emmett's Point of View as well? I think so =]]. I may make Emmett's POV into a story when I'm finished with this one, but that won't be for a very long time. So . . . review!