Hey guys! I had an idea in my head so I decided to type it up to get myself into the *somewhat* holiday spirit! Hope you like, please leave comments/ suggestions on your way out. This story will be loosely based on the movie Last Holiday starring Queen Latifah, I can't take credit for the whole idea.
I will be updating more than once a day, and hope to have the whole thing completed in the next few days…
I asked Santa for Twilight this year, maybe I'll get lucky :) but until then, Stephanie Meyer owns it all.
"Bella," I can barely hear the muffled voice calling my name. "Bella!" the voice sounds more impatient. "Oh, Bella!" the voice is getting louder and I internally cringe. Whoever's calling me really needs to shut the hell up. I'm too comfy to move and they're really cramping my style.
I try and open my eyes to give this person a piece of my mind, but it's harder to do so than I remember it being this morning. This morning? This morning already happened, why the hell am I asleep?
"Guys! She's moving!" the voice squeals. The voice is finally clear and a normal volume, so I can finally identify the person as a woman. Victoria Hunter to be exact. My best friend and the annoyingly chipper intern who makes me want to stab her with a stick on Monday mornings. Oh yeah, I'm not definitely a morning person.
I feel my head being prodded and lifted by someone's hands, and I shriek when their pointed nails hit a particular spot on the back of my head. My eyes fly open, and I become aware of the ten or so people all standing above me with concerned looks on their faces.
"Oh, thank god!" Victoria weeps and pulls me to her chest. I grimace as my face gets shoved between her cleavage in her 'hug' and try to pull away. I glare at the crowd of secretaries and they all visibly relax. Why are they all watching me? Shit, did I fall asleep on the copy-machine again?
"I called 911," a breathless Jessica pants as she comes into view above me next to Mike. "The ambulance is one their way." She looks me up and down and smiles apologetically.
My vision blurs slightly before refocusing, but the world seems to be a bit fuzzier than it was a few seconds ago. Finally Jessica's words process and I look around in confusion. "Ambulance?" my tongue feels heavy, and I doubt if anyone even understood what I just said. What the fuck happened to me?
I do a mental assessment and notice the dull throbbing in my head. I lift my hand up slowly to run it through my hair, but stop when it comes close enough to my face for me to see it. Why is everything so… stiff? I wiggle my fingers and wrinkle my forehead at the slight pain I feel.
"Bella, are you alright?" Victoria asks slowly in between pops of gum.
"Wh-" I cringe at the scratchy feeling in my throat. "What happened?" I croaked. Victoria glances over to Mrs. Cope and raises an eyebrow.
"She asked what happened." Cope murmurs slowly, almost as if she's afraid to speak too loudly. She turns her beady eyes to mine and I wince. She always has been a bit creepy. "You tripped on the ficus on your way to the copy room." She tells me in a soothing voice. I've always hated that damn tree. I rub my head and grimace when I feel a slight tender spot. "You hit the corner of Mike's desk and passed out. You've been unconscious for over ten minutes."
Well shit. I try to push myself up, but Victoria lays her acrylic-nailed hand on my chest and pushes me back down. "Relax, Bella." She soothes. "Just wait until the EMT's get here." She intentionally strokes my boob and I punch her arm as hard as I can in my state of incoherent-ness.
"Stop trying to take advantage of me, woman." I croak. "I'm not sleeping with you!" Victoria smirks and gives my tit one last rub before withdrawing her hand.
"A girl can always try." She smiles innocently at me and I can't help the small chuckle that escapes me.
"Girl on girl." Mike mutters. "Hot." He nods his head t me, receiving a smack from his girl-friend.
"Jesus Mike," Jessica mutters and glares at him. "Would you think with your head for ten seconds?"
"Babe," he argues. "I was thinking with my head."
"The one on top of your shoulders." She hisses and crosses her arms. She shoots him one last glare that clearly said 'no sex for a month' and storms over to the window of the office overlooking downtown Seattle. "Hey," she calls, "Ambulance is here."
"That was fast," Vic comments and gets up from her kneeling position beside me.
"Vic, I'm fine." I whine and start to sit up. She gives me a menacing look and I slowly lower myself back down.
"You most certainly are not fine, Bella." She demands, even going so far as to stomp her foot like an eight year old trying to buy a ticket at a sold out Justin Beiber concert. Hehe. See, even when I'm injured I still have my humor. "You are going to the hospital to be looked at. I refuse to let you die. Who would make fun of Bolton with me?" She raises her eyebrows, referring to our many jokes about our boss, Mr. Michael Bolton. No affiliation to the singer/songwriter. Man, we give him so much shit about his name.
"Where is old man Bolton anyway?" I ask, slightly perturbed he doesn't even have the decency to check if his favorite journalist is bleeding out in his hallway.
"Eh, he got held up at court." She shrugs in a 'what else is new' manner. "His ex wanted more money or something."
The elevator to our floor dings and two guys in light green scrubs step out of the elevator. A third woman with bright red hair follows them out pushing a stretcher in front of her. My eyes widen when I see the offending bed-on-wheels and I look it over in contempt.
"Hehe." Victoria chuckles and I glare up at her.
"Somthin' funny bitch?" I hiss.
"Look at that chick." She whispers and crouches down next to me, pointing to the female EMT in the pink scrubs. "Five bucks says she's a fire crotch."
I roll my eyes and nudge her with my elbow. "Her hair is clearly dyed," I argue, indulging in another of our games we made up to pass time in the office on boring days. Guess what color pubes people have. "Five bucks says she's not. And how will you even check?"
"I have my ways." She gets an evil glint in her eye. "Oh, and you're on. That shit's real as mine." She fluffs her curly mane of red hair. We shake and she stands up just as the two scrub clad men reach us. I raise my eyebrow as I sit up fully until I'm face to face with the EMT's… um…. Doc number one's genitalia is dangling awfully close to my face. Jeeze, they don't make scrubs as thick as they used to.
"Mrs. Swan?" Doc number one waves a hand in front of my face and my eyes snap up, away from his crotch.
I clear my throat and he smiles. Shit, he totally knew I was checking out his package. I internally curse myself and give him an apologetic smile. "Yes?" at least my voice sounds somewhat normal now.
"Can you tell me your full name?" he asks and pushes his jet black hair out of his face as she grabs a clipboard off the stretcher.
"Bella Swan." I tell him. The woman crouches beside me and gently pulls on my arm. After a few seconds, I realize she wants me to stand up. Jeeze lady, use your words. If I was a paranoid person, I might have thought you were stealing my arm to sell on the black market.
Victoria snorts beside me and the female EMT cracks a smile. Shit, I said that out loud? "Yes you did." Vic laughs and smacks my ass when I'm in a fully standing position. I swat at her hand and have to steady myself on fire-crotch so I don't tip over. I glare at her as Doc number two grabs my other arm and they lead me over to sit on the stretcher.
"Okay Bella Swan," Doc number one starts checking things off on his clipboard. "We'll be taking you down to Seattle Medical," he peeks over his board to me and continues. "Do you have insurance?"
"Um," I blush. "Not at the moment, no." Fucking Bolton won't give it to us until after two months of service to the magazine.
"Okay, no problem." He sets his clipboard down next to me and pushes me back into a lying position.
"Oh, so he's allowed to fondle your tits?" Vic smirks and Doc number one blushes. I don't know when she'll understand that I don't want to have sex with her. Hell, I'm as straight as Batman planking on the bat-mobile.
Doc number one leans over me to adjust something on the stretcher and his chest comes into view. I try not to stare, but his nametag catches my eye. Alec Volturi. I wonder if he's related to Aro. We do a lot of business with their photographers. Volturi photography- creative right?
"Okay, just hold still," Alec warns me and starts to push the stretcher toward the elevator. Doc number two and fire-crotch whose names I haven't yet caught follow us. Before the doors slide shut I give my spectators a small unenthusiastic wave, silently cursing Jessica for calling fucking 911. Isn't that supposed to be for people who really need it?
"How are you feeling Mrs. Swan?" Red-head steps beside me and lays hew hand on my forehead. "We can't really check you out until we get to the van." She apologizes. I shake my head and glance at her nametag. Heidi Boon.
"I'm fine. I felt a little off when I woke up, but I seem to be getting better." I try to sound enthusiastic thinking maybe they'll let me go early if I act like a normal uninjured person.
"That's good." She smiles and retracts her hand. "The doctor will want to take a few x-rays just to make sure you don't have a concussion." I raise my eyebrow at her, concerned. She catches my look and back-tracks. "Just to be on the safe-side, dear." I nod in understanding and stare at the shiny elevator doors as that stupid fucking music tinkles in the background through the buildings' low-budget speakers. I swear I want to hack the system and play some hard-core shit- some Metallica, or Nirvana. It's not like Bolton would even hear it; he keeps his hearing aids out for ninety percent of the day.
The doors ding open and Heidi pushes me out through the lobby and out the double doors of the building. I blush and concentrate on my breathing as I feel hundreds of eyes following me as I'm wheeled toward an ambulance illegally parked half-way on the sidewalk. A teenage boy in loose fitting running clothes snickers and bumps into the stretcher, purposefully jostling me from side to side. I settle myself and narrow my eyes while grabbing onto the back of his baggy basketball shorts. I hold onto them as he walks away, and laugh when he topples down onto the sidewalk, just barely catching himself before his ugly little mug can get smeared on the sidewalk. His pants are pooled around his ankles and I giggle to myself as he scrambles to pull them up as the crowds of New Yorkers swerve around him, chuckling as they pass.
"Mrs. Swan, it's a good thing you're injured." Doc number two mumbles and pulls open the double doors of the ambulance. They push me in backwards and I attempt to cover my face in embarrassment as people walk by with their mouths hanging open and camera-phones at the ready. Heidi mumbles something about 'people need to get lives' and gives the stretcher a final shove.
I feel the stretcher give, and suddenly I'm in the back of the van. There are no windows in the ambulance and I start to feel a bit claustrophobic being smooshed in like a sardine. I really start to panic when doc number two and Heidi join me in the back on either side and slam the doors shut. The engine starts up, and we start rolling. I can feel my face pale, and I focus on my breathing.
"You okay?" Doc two asks. I nod and glance at his nametag. Chandler. Huh, no last name. I close my eyes and pretend I'm in a big open field, not enjoying the tightness or sweatiness in the cab despite the below freezing temperature.
"Just a bit tight in here, no?" I squeak out nervously. Heidi snorts and nods her head in agreement.
"Try doing this for a living." She grumbles unhappily. "How are you, besides that?"
"Fine," I roll my eyes. "This whole ordeal is completely unnecessary."
She holds up her hands in surrender. "It's not our job to decide that. We got a call from a very distressed woman and made it here as fast as we could."
"Yeah," Chandler jumps in, "The way she was acting made us think you were on your deathbed or something." He laughs and punches my arm playfully. Um, hello! That fucking hurt! I decide then that I don't like Mr. Chandler. I glare at him and rub my arm soothingly.
"Jess can be a bit…" I pause, thinking for the right word. Fanatical? Bat-shit? Psychotic? "Dramatic." I settle for the least offensive term. Hey, if I am on my deathbed, I want to leave big guy upstairs with a good impression. Maybe he'll overlook the past few years and take pity on me.
The ambulance finally rolls to a stop and the three of us wait patiently in the back for Alec to slide open the doors of the van. They eventually wheel me out and into the main lobby of the hospital, much to my chagrin as the patients gawk at me as I pass by. They bring me down the hall a few hundred yards and into a separate room with a hospital bed and a T.V in the corner. There's a cabinet and table next to the bed filled with sharp- pointy things and bottles of medication.
I cringe and look away the second I see an over-sized needle next to a vile of blue liquid. Jeeze, do I even want to know?
"Do you think you can stand?" Alec asks and clips his clipboard on a hook next to the bed. "We just need you to take a seat on this bed here." He rolls a sheet of white crinkly paper over it and pats it for emphasis. I roll my eyes and slide off the stretcher, transferring myself to the bed. "Perfect." He smiles and Chandler rolls it out the door, disappearing down the hall. Good riddance.
"Okay," Alec claps once and backs away from me. "Doctor Gerandy will be in to see you shortly. Feel free to watch some T.V. while you wait." Heidi hands me a remote and shuts the door behind her and Alec as they leave the room.
There's a long silence with the only noise being the slight humming coming from the heater vent above my head. I let out an involuntary shiver as I remember my many trips to the ER as a child. I've always been fairly clumsy, more so when I was younger, and managed to have broken eight bones by the time I was seven. Back in Phoenix, the entire staff at the hospital knew us by name. Charlie even set up a tab there for when I would have to stay overnight. By the time we moved to Forks, I was already twelve and had gained quite a bit of balance and no longer tripped over my own two feet. Much.
I sigh as I feel the familiar ache in my chest when I remember Forks. I wrap my arms around my chest, unconsciously trying to hold together my heart as it feels like it's splitting in two. Forks. The one place I vowed never to return to. The only place that's ever felt like home.
"Are you Bella?" a man with curly blonde hair and a deep German accent peaks his head around the slightly open door and squints at me through his spectacles.
"Yep, that's me."
"Oh, good." He smiles and shuts the door behind him. He's wearing similar scrubs to Alec and that Chandler guy, only his are partially covered by a lab coat. And they look a bit thicker, thank god. "Okay, Mrs. Bella." He grabs the chart from next to my bed and reads through Alec's notes. "Seems like you took quite a fall." He comments and peers at me over the clipboard. He mumbles something to himself and sets the board back on the hook. "Okay, we're just going to take a few x-rays." He informs me and grabs a pair of rubber gloves from his pocket. He snaps them on- no literally, snaps them like in a cheap porn flick. Although, if this was a cheap porn flick, then he'd probably be preparing to shove his finger up my vajajay. Sorry buddy, you're old enough to be my father.
He puts slight pressure on my forehead and closes his eyes as he feels all around my head. I breathe a sigh in relief that it no longer feels like someone shoving a ginsu knife through my brain.
"Well," he backs away and rolls off his gloves. "I don't see any swelling, that's a good sign." He pushes his glasses up his nose and discards his gloves in the trash can by the door. Seriously? He wasted a pair of gloves to feel my head? Must be company policy. "So, if you'll follow me…" he trails off and holds the door open for me. I try to ignore the sickening sound of crunching paper as I slide my ass off the chair and head out into the hallway. I hate that paper shit. "Right this way." He pushes on my back slightly and I follow him deeper into the building.
We stop at a door with a giant WARNING! sign on it- which makes me feel wonderful about this procedure- and Dr. Gerandy shoves me inside. "If you would lie down, please Mrs. Swan." He motions to a chair hooked to a giant machine which I figure must be some sort of brain scanner. "We're just going to take a quick scan of your brain-"
"Whoa, whoa. Hold up," I cut him off. "See, I don't have insurance at the moment," I ignore his disapproving look, "how much is this going to cost?"
"You need to have it done Mrs. Swan." He orders and flips on the machine. "It shouldn't be more than a thousand dollars." My eyes widen and I allow him to push me onto the chair. A thousand dollars? "I assure you this is quite necessary." He adjusts my position and raises the chair up so it's closer to the machine. "Just relax and close your eyes. " I follow his directions and try not to think about how much money I'm flushing down the tubes by getting this done. "This shouldn't take more than a few minutes. I nod in acceptance and hear the door slam shut a few moments later.
The machine hums to life and I squeeze my eyes shut, not daring to watch the heavy hunk of metal spinning just inches from my head. There are a multitude of colors swirling around my face through my eyelids and a slight swooshing sound as the machine spins.
It seems like hours before the colors stop spinning by and the humming stops as the machine shuts off. A few moments later the door opens and a happy looking Doctor Gerandy enters. "Success!" he claps and lowers my chair. I pull myself into a sitting position and raise an eyebrow at him.
"Are there high failure rates for this kind of thing?" I ask, only half joking. He pats my shoulder and I follow him out of the room and down the hall.
"Of course not. This is just a brand new machine, never been used before." He smiles brilliantly and holds open the door for the room we were in prior to my scans. And near brush with death apparently. Never been used before. What if the damn thing crushed me? I take a seat on the crunchy paper and stew in my anger at the carefree Doc.
"That new thing could have killed me." I hiss at him. He just smiles and shakes his head.
"O course not, Mrs. Swan. It's perfectly safe." He shuffles around the room and grabs the clipboard off the wall again. He clutches to his chest and makes his way back toward the door. "I'm going to go take a look at your scan, I'll be back shortly. Make yourself at home."
Yeah, like my home is painted bright white and has pointy objects covering every surface. Sounds very homey to me. I wring my hands and glance around the room nervously as I wait for the doctor. I grab a magazine off the cabinet and flip through it, not really absorbing any of the articles. It's not out magazine, what should I care?
I flip to the cover and scoff. US Weekly. What a joke. I throw it back on the counter and cross my arms, gently tapping my foot against the cool ceramic tile. I hum to myself and glance around at the few posters hanging on the wall. The ten signs of pregnancy. Pass. Do I have the Clap? Pass. Is my vagina stretching out with age? Pass. Should I smoke dope? Oh, interesting. I scoot closer to the bright purple poster and read through the list of side effects of marijuana. Well gee, I don't think I'll start smoking any time soon. What a dumb poster.
The door creaks open and I spin around, embarrassed at being caught inspecting the dope poster. My smile fades when I see Doc's disheveled appearance. His eyes are bugged out of his head and his clothes are wrinkled and twisted. His hand is running nervously through his hair and he's holding some paper thing up to the light.
"Um, Doc?" I ask, chuckling to diffuse the tension in the room. His weary eyes snap to mine and he gulps audibly.
"Have a seat Bella." He whispers, the tremor in his voice contradicting the calm demeanor he's trying to put out.
"Is everything okay?" I ask slowly, not bothering to sit back down. "Doctor Gerandy, is everything okay?" I ask after a long silence.
"Bella, there's no easy way to say this…" he trails off.
"Say what?" I ask through clenched teeth. "Spit it out already!"
"Here." He thrust the x-ray paper at me and bites his nails as I grab it from him. I look at him curiously before turning my attention to the x-ray. There's an outline of my skull, and blobs that seem to be my brain. What the fuck?
"What am I looking at doc?"
"You see this here?" he points to the translucent-ish mass taking up almost all the space in the skull.
"Um, yeah?" I ask, not quite understanding how my brain is a bad thing.
"Now, you see this? How it's almost white?" He points to another smaller mass surrounded by the brain.
He shakes his head and backs away from me slowly. "That's not supposed to be there, Bella."
I stare at him a moment as he fidgets. "What do you mean it's not supposed to be there?" I ask in disbelief. "It's there isn't it? What is it?"
"It's a tumor Bella." He tells me slowly. "I'm so sorry."
I blanch and stare at the x-ray again. "A tumor?" I whisper.
"I'm so sorry."
"How? How can that be there?" I ask him desperately. "I feel fine! There has to be a mistake."
"That's no mistake Mrs. Swan." He tells me and holds his hand out. I hand him the paper and he inspects it closely.
"Then-then get it out!" I stutter.
"Bella…" he soothes. "With the placement, it just isn't possible to remove it. The surgery would kill you." He sets the x-ray down on the bed and takes off his glasses. "When you hit your head, it must have caused the tumor to swell. Judging by the size of it…" he pauses and takes interest in rubbing his glasses on his coat.
"What are you trying to say?"
"Bella, I don't think you have long. Three weeks, tops." He tells me without meeting my eyes.
I slump down on the bed and let his words sink in. "I'm dying?" I whisper, the tears already forming in my eyes. "That's not possible." I shake my head and wipe my eyes. "It can't be!" I yell at him. "I feel fine! If it wasn't for that stupid fall-"
"Bella." He cuts me off. I wipe my face with my sleeve and am surprised to feel wetness leaking from my eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't you dare say that!" I scream. "Don't you dare!"
"Mrs. Swan, please. I know how hard this is for you-"
"I don't believe you." I tell him calmly. "I don't need to listen to this. You believe what you want, but I'm fine." I stand up and straighten my clothes. I grab the x-ray and make my way toward the door. "You can bill me for the scan." I hiss and slam the door roughly behind me catching the attention of the nurse down the hall.
"Is everything alright, ma'am?" she asks. She's an older woman, maybe in her late fifties. I wait for her as she hobbles over to me, and I hand her the scan.
"Is there something wrong with this?" I ask her, trying my hardest to control my rage.
She grabs it and squints her eyes; she inspects it for a minute before turning her sad eyes to me. "Oh, dear." Her face pales and she thrusts it back to me. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry-"
"Why is everyone in this fucking place sorry for me? There's nothing wrong with me!" I scream and storm down toward the lobby.
"Is there a problem, miss?" the secretary asks as I stomp past her. I don't bother to answer as swing open the double doors and step out into the freezing December air.
I walk on shaky legs over to a bench near the hospital and lower myself onto it, ignoring the chill of the seat through my skirt. I shiver and realize I've left my jacket and purse and scar back at the office. It seems like so long ago I was lying on the ground, delirious with everyone worrying about me. What would they think now?
My hands shiver in the cold as I hold the x-ray closer to my face to study it. It takes a minute for me to realize fresh tears are trekking down my face. I gently trace the blob in the center of the skull with my fingers and let out a sob. The tears flow steadily as I rest my head in my hands and weep. Weep for the tumor, which I know is really there. I may have doubted it before, but there's no way to deny it. It's there and it isn't going away.
I briefly wonder how I must look, a shivering woman hunched over a piece of paper sobbing her heart out in front of a hospital. They probably think I'm crazy, or psychotic.
I take another look at the scan. The scan that changed everything. Was it really just this morning that I woke up without a care in the world? Was it only a few hours ago when my biggest fear was to get my story in to Bolton on time? Was it really just an hour ago when Vic and I were making a bet about a woman's pubic hair?
Oh god, Vic. What am I going to tell them? How am I going to tell them when I can't even accept it myself? I sniff and attempt to wipe away the river flowing from my face. It does no good since the minute I mop myself up, a whole new flow begins.
Is this it? Twenty eight years? I've barely lived! I want to get married! I want to have kids and a nice house with a yard and a dog. There are so many things I haven't done- I haven't seen! Is this really it?
I glance back down to the x-ray clutched in my hands. This is really it.
What'cha think? Good? Bad? Lemme Know!