Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. The author of this story, JustBella, is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
This is my first Story with this type of writing style. (Third Person.)
Isabella sat stiffly on her neighbor's porch, watching the rain tare the beautiful flowers into small pieces of nothing. Nothing was exactly what she was feeling. The pit in her stomach gnawing at her very insides until she finally shifted from discomfort.
Passion. Some people believed that when it rained it meant they felt passion towards another. That was what her father had always said when it started raining. Then her mother and father would always share a secret smile that Isabella had hoped to one day uncover.
But of course she would never find out now. Now that her parents were buried six feet under. Now that her whole life had been unwound and twisted into so many knots that she feared she would never get them out.
"Isabella, honey? Are you alright?" Was she alright? No perhaps not. What a stupid question to ask. "Oh, you're crying!" Said her neighbor, Mrs. Clark. Who was short and plump, with dyed black hair and a bad case of OCD.
Isabella wiped her face with the back of her hand and mentally scolded herself for doing so. "When will she get here?" She asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
Mrs. Clark smiled sympathetically, "In just a few minutes. I just got off the phone with her." She'd just finished talking when a black Mercedes crunched onto the gravel in front of them.
A woman in her late thirties stepped out and walked carefully on the gravel; her high heels sinking slowly into the driveway. Her purple umbrella matching her beautiful silk dress.
"Mrs. Clark!" The woman smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. She was slightly shorter than Isabella, with wavy chestnut hair and lovely green eyes.
"Oh, Esme it has been a while!" Mrs. Clark said, holding her at arms length. Evaluating her from head to toe. "You've gotten too skinny peaches! You need to make sure you and Isabella start eating more or I'll have to come down there and force feed the both of you."
Isabella stood, causing the older two women to look at her. She shrank back slightly, surprised by the sudden attention. She suddenly found the laces on her shoes very interesting.
"You must be Isabella." She looked up when she felt arms encircling her. "I am so sorry. I wish there was more I could do." She whispered in her ear, releasing her hold on her. "Your parents were wonderful people. Your mother, Renee, was my best friend. She was so proud of you." Esme placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes watering.
Isabella had never met Esme before now. Her mother used to talk about her all the time. When her parents died they had put in their Will that they wanted Esme and her husband to take care of her. Of course, they didn't have to do anything it said, but Isabella was happy they did.
Things were quiet after that. They helped load her bags into the trunk and parted ways with Mrs. Clark, before driving off on the rain sodden road.
She relaxed a little into the black leather seat and looked out the window. All her childhood memories were here. The park where she had tried to feed a rabid squirrel at ten, and been rushed to the hospital by her hysterical mother. Her best friend's house, when she had tried to play baseball and knocked the bat into their living room window. And the peach tree behind the school where she had had her first kiss.
She closed her eyes, a single tear sliding down her pale face. The rain soothed her, but it couldn't soothe the pain and the guilt she felt within. This was one thing the rain couldn't fix. She didn't think it could ever be fixed.
At some point during the long drive she fell asleep only to be woken up minutes later by the car stopping in front of a rather large house.
It was three stories high, with pillars supporting the part of the roof that jutted out several feet. It was old and Victorian. A huge porch wrapped around the entire building, giving it a homely feel. Which it was anything but to her.
"Do you like it?" Esme said, as she got out of the car.
"You have a beautiful home Mrs. Cullen." She said, looking high up towards the rooftop.
"Why thank you dear…Don't worry about your bags, I'll have my boys bring them up later. Anything to get them off that darn couch." She frowned and shook her head.
When they entered the house Isabella had to stifle a gasp. High beamed ceiling, hardwood floors, curving staircase, a grand piano the size of the car, and where the wall should have been, there was a huge glass window overlooking a small creak.
They walked up the stairs and all the way up to the third floor where three wooden doors occupied the walls. However, unlike the hardwood floors downstairs - these floors looked like they were pure marble. Whether it was or not was completely debatable.
Esme opened the door in the middle curved hallway, and then turned to smile at Isabella. "This is your room. I hope you don't mind purple."
Inside it was spacious and comfortable. The walls were painted soft lavender and the way it was decorated reminded her of home. It was neat and tidy and in the middle of the room was a huge bed with dark purple covers.
"It's perfect Mrs. Cullen. I love it!" She turned to thank her and noticed a small set of stairs going up towards the roof.
"That…," Esme said, noticing her gaze. "…leads up to the roof. It's a good place to think and be alone." They hugged and Isabella, despite herself, let a few tears fall.
"It's going to be okay." Esme said, rubbing her back. "Things will get better. It just takes time…Now you've had a long day; I want you to get some rest. It'll make you feel better."
She said goodnight and then Isabella was alone. She sighed, putting her hands over her face. Why did this have to happen? Was it something she did? She wished she knew why she was being punished.
Her tears flowed freely now that she was hidden behind four purple walls and some time during the rainy night she fell asleep under soft, unfamiliar covers.
I hope you enjoyed it!
I'm not a fan of the Title. Anyone have any ideas?