A/N Hi guys! I'm back with a new WIP. Its been a while but I'm looking forward to getting my hands dirty again, and bringing the boys to life so to speak.
First: I would like to thank the awesomeness that is my pre readers.
Lets start with Yulliah Meghan author of A Twin Thing: Thanks for always being there willing and able to kick my butt into gear. And when I feel like I can't continue and want to throw in the towel kicking me some more. I will be forever grateful.
The amazing Prassacut author of Roads: I know you are not feeling 100% at the moment. But please know you are always in our thoughts and we miss you. I love you babe.
And new to the team James Black: Thank you sweetie, for taking the time to patiently read over my not so pretty rough draft. your eagerness to share your thoughts and feelings will always be appreciated.
And last but never least, my wonderful beta Deβra Anne who painstakingly and patiently corrects my mess in hopes of keeping me readable, so you guys keep coming back, babe you rock my world.
All thats left to say now, is please enjoy.
Sighing deeply, I place my bags on the porch by my feet. Bringing a shaking hand up, I put my new, freshly cut key in the lock, chanting silently to myself. 'You can do this! You know you can do this! You can... Right?'
And with a deep, nervous breath, I let my fingers slowly turn, sucking in an anxious hitch of air, when my eager ears hear the click. Then, for the first time in ten years, for the first time in a fucking long ten years, I take a shaky step across the threshold of my very own place.
Carrying my bags straight upstairs to the master bedroom, I place them in the back of the closet, doing my best to keep them out of the way, knowing I'll have time later to unpack them, along with the rest of the boxes, once the movers have finished bringing in the furniture. 'Shouldn't take them long though; not like I left with much. There's only so much you can do when you have but a small window of time to work with.'
Turning with my hands contentedly on my hips, I scan the area. peeking out the dusty bedroom window onto the backyard. The view causes my smile to grow wide. It's a small, cozy house that backs up to the woods, with a nice little garden out front. I dream of long hikes and planting flowers, something I'm hoping will keep me occupied and busy during the lazy summer afternoons. But seriously, I couldn't care less if it was nothing more than a cardboard box, just the thought of it being mine and mine alone makes me giddy.
But this small town secluded living will take some getting used to, I'm sure. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I'm up and prepared for a good challenge, no matter what. It's just that I'm a city boy at heart – well, that's what I thought, personally – loving the hustle and bustle of the bright lights, city streets and night life, always feeling the need to surround myself with people and noise. My eyes fall shut when heavy thoughts suddenly try to drown me, making me cringe, having to swallow hard the nervous bile now gathering in the back of my throat, knowing fine rightly why I needed it all, and how much it didn't fucking work.
My body shudders slightly when my weakness tries to return, and I feel myself start to slowly hyperventilate. Quickly bringing a shaky hand up, I press my fingertips roughly onto the side of my head, frantically massaging my temple as the dark, dismal memories do their best to consume me and flash within my brain, silently having to chant to myself 'You can do this! You can do this! You know you can.'
Taking a sharp, deep breath, steadying my nerves, I eagerly remind myself, 'It's time for a change, damn it! It's time for a new beginning.' Wanting and longing, for the first time in what feels like forever, to feel empowered, and even somewhat in charge of my own life and destiny, I decided months ago to grab this opportunity when offered to me by the balls, and run with it.
I jump nervously and a small, choked yelp releases from my chest. I have to steady myself and wipe my brow with a shaky hand, as my eyes dart panic-stricken around the room, wary of the strange noise. Then as a small, anxious giggle dances in my throat, and I'm able to get my breathing back under control, slowing my pounding heart, I realize it was nothing more than the doorbell echoing throughout the empty walls. I hear it ring loudly once more.
Running my fingers through my hair, I glance at my watch and excitedly whisper, "Fuck! They're a little earlier than I expected, but hey, I'll take early over late any day."
Looking over my shoulder as I back out of the room, grabbing the door handle and pulling it tight behind me, I'm brought up short and I stop abruptly. My eyes fall to my fingers folded around the knob, as my belly cramps then flips and my palm starts to stickily sweat. Then forcing myself to stand a little straighter, drawing a deep breath nervously into my lungs, I slowly feel myself start to grin, and instead of shutting it tight like I knew I should, pulling it closed, just the way I'd been taught, I let my palm fall flush with the wood and gleefully push it back open.
'Cause you can do this, you know you can.'
I excitedly make my way two steps at a time to the front door, yelling out in my loudest voice possible, hoping they can hear me. "Coming, guys! Hold on please! I'm coming! I'll be right there!"
Eagerly pulling the door open, the force of my action causes the wind to catch my unruly hair and makes it messily fall in my face. It startles me at first, making me chuckle to myself then laugh heartily. My breath hitches and I have to take a step to steady myself when the strange sound echoes in my ears, I feel my brow frown in confusion and my head becomes a little light, when I realize how foreign the sound really is to me, and how long it's actually been since I'd made it. With no time to give it much thought. and doing my best to desperately shake it off. I unknowingly say. "Come on in. boys. The boxes should be labeled properly, so it shouldn't be that hard. Living room to your left, dining room right, kitchen straight ahead, and everything for the bedrooms and bathroom can go upstairs."
Holding the door open and standing back, I wait. Then tapping my foot impatiently, I find myself waiting some more, truthfully expecting all hell to break loose when these burly, huge sweaty men unenthusiastically take over the run of my new little home for at least the next hour. But as I'm taking the time to hold the door and run my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself somewhat presentable, my eyes dart in confusion and frustration when I hear and see nothing go by.
Pulling on the door a little more abruptly, I unwillingly let my confusion be known. "Huh? What the hell? Guys?"
And when I notice it's not the movers, it dawns on me that it's not a herd of burly, sweaty men about to run rampant over my newly polished hardwood floors. I feel my face start to flush and my eyes blur with embarrassment when it falls upon people! Well, I think they're people, having to mentally kick myself. 'Edward, you're a total tool, of course they're people.' I'm unable to hold at bay my own grin when five sets of perfect pearly whites smile widely back at me.
My eyes dart curiously and frantically between all five, trying my best to take them in. 'Fuck! They're all so good looking, I'm so fucking doomed if this is the criteria to live in this sleepy little town.' The awkwardness of the moment causes me to self consciously run my fingers though my unruly hair again. Then the swift movement of what looks like the youngest guy's hand coming in contact with his mouth when he softly coughs nervously, draws me to him. I watch, bewildered, as a confused and worried look crosses his youthful, handsome face, seconds before my attention is caught when the oldest, but still young looking, female steps forward. "Mr. Mason?" Meeting her haunting amber eyes, I gently nod. "Please forgive our intrusion, we heard a rumor that you would be arriving today. I hope we aren't disturbing you or getting in the way, but we just felt the need to be one of the first to welcome you properly to our friendly little town."
I watch as the eldest guy walks forward, folding an arm gently around the woman's small waist, and I let myself step out to meet his outstretched hand before he speaks. "Mr. Mason, we are the Cullen family. I'm Carlisle Cullen, chief of staff at our small local hospital. And this beautiful woman is my wife Esme." Glancing in her direction again, I find I'm unable to do anything other than smile at the very attractive auburn haired lady, as she returns mine with a wide beaming one of her own. They both move fluently to the side, letting the others take center stage, but still Carlisle's voice rings in my ears. "This little one..." I chuckle as the spiky-haired girl shoots him a look. He coughs, trying to disguise his own amusement before he continues. "Well this would be our youngest, Alice. She attends the local college." And as she eagerly grabs my fingers, I chuckle hard, realizing how much of a handful she really is as she bounces excitedly on her toes.
She takes being introduced as her cue to take charge, and excitedly pulls the other girl to the forefront. My brows frown as I hear the attractive blond disgustedly huff. "And this would be Rosalie, but you can call her Rose, we all do. She's a nurse at the same hospital as our Dad, Carlisle." Reaching my hand a little over Alice's head, I weakly shake her fingertips and give a quick nod in the somewhat bored-looking Rose's direction.
But before I can even catch my breath or give myself a second to think, Alice pulls the blond haired guy from earlier straight into my line of sight. I find I'm unable to meet his gaze, my eyes finding interest in the shiny buttons of his jacket, as Alice once more speaks up. "And this! This would be Jasper, my big brother. He teaches history at the high school; that's how we came to find out about you first." Looking up, I see Jasper's eyes dart, annoyed, to Alice as he whispers through gritted teeth "Alice please." But not seeming to be one to back down she grants him a pointed stare before inquiring. "What? Its true! Isn't it?" And as I watch on amused, he pushes her away gingerly with his hip before elegantly holding out his hand for me to take.
I jump slightly when his cold palm comes in contact fully with mine, then relax a little when his smooth voice softly washes over me. "Please Mr. Mason, pay my little sister no mind. She is the spitfire of the family, and we do our best to ignore her. But she is right about one thing, I found out about your arrival though the school; that I can't deny. It's a small town, and not much changes here, so when you hear a new biology teacher will be arriving soon, it kinda piques your interest, so to speak. So please, if you can, do your best to ignore my baby sister's rudeness."
With my hand still wrapped in his, I answer, "No apologies necessary, Mr. Cullen, I understand, believe me I do." And as his amber eyes – just like his mother's, father's and, oddly enough, both his siblings – grow bright, causing my eyebrows to raise questioningly when I notice a quick emotion flash in them before he catches himself and answers, "Jasper, Mr. Mason. Please, just call me Jasper."
Still feeling the slight chill run through my hand and up my arm, I give a small smile, and as my eyes fall upon each one of them, I quietly say, "The name's Edward Mason, but please feel free to just call me Edward!"
It's early evening before I get the chance to plop myself down at my very own kitchen table. Even though I feel quite overwhelmed and exhausted, I don't think I could be or have been any happier. Esme Cullen's wide, enchanting smile flashes in my head as I hungrily dig into the welcoming bounty she had so kindly prepared and brought for me. And the movers, though huge, sweaty and burly, had worked quickly, surprising me with their swiftness and successfully managing not to damage my newly polished hardwood floors in the process, were done in record time, having left ages ago.
And although the Cullens were long gone, my head still spins like a whirlwind and my thoughts seem determined to keep them for a while, drifting from time to time to each and every one of their handsome faces, finding them intriguing and mysterious, my imagination having been captivated by their not so subtle beauty and quiet, soothing demeanor.
But once I've cleaned and cleared the dishes and put the extra food away, I eagerly make myself a list to take to market the next day. I take special care repacking Esme's picnic basket, in the hopes of having the chance to return it at some point, not that I would need an excuse, or for that matter to lie, just to see them again; they had made themselves quite clear when they eagerly exchanged phone numbers and painstakingly pointed out the direction to their property from my own. So having surprised myself on how quickly I made new friends, realizing my move might not be that bad after all, and a little easier to bear, I tiredly make my way up the stairs, opening every room door as I go, running my shaky fingers over the window locks and rechecking the front and back bolts at least twice.
My ears buzz with the silence of this place, my mind racing with the ability to finally have and keep a single thought that is all mine, and mine alone. Reaching the top of the stairs, before I enter my room, I give myself a second to take it all in and breathe. I find myself chanting once more, 'You can do this, Edward! You know you can.'
"EDWARD!" My ears hum from the high pitched squeal bouncing off the minimally decorated walls, as I walk quickly down the cold stark hallway in its direction. Opening the door and entering the kitchen, I freeze in the door frame. The sight of him causes me to swallow hard. I don't have to see his expression or look into his cold, dark eyes to know he's already pissed at me. I watch warily as his angry back muscles contract and crawl under his overly-starched, well-tailored dress shirt, and his collar tightens when the back of his neck expands and turns red in rage.
I know he knows I'm here. He always knows I'm here. Why? Cause he fucking knows everything. Letting my watery eyes fall shut when I feel the bile gather at the back of my nervous throat, trying my best to control my overzealous heartbeat, I listen to him sigh disgustedly. Then coolly and calmly, he straightens himself to his full height. He doesn't turn or make a move to acknowledge I'm even in the room. Cause really! He doesn't have to. He already knows. Why? Cause he always fucking knows.
Then slowly, my fevered skin starts to crawl and every little hair on the back of my neck stands at attention when his oh-so-familiar sarcastic deep monotone voice rolls effortlessly off his sharp tongue.
"Edward? Like really! Babe? What would be so FUCKING important that you would feel the need to leave a pot boiling on my stove? Can you tell me? Can you answer me that?"
"Crap!" My head spins, searching for the right answer, and my eyes squint and dart nervously around the cold, sterile room. It's willing, but unable, to grab at anything that would make sense right now or, for that matter, make him less irritated. I feel my form shake slightly and my palms start to sweat when my throat runs dry. God damn it! I know what I was doing, I know where I was, but fuck, is it the right answer? Am I going to say the wrong fucking thing? Like always? Again!
My head nervously pounds, searching for the right words, wondering if I should go with the truth or gamble a little more and lie. Fuck knows I've been in this position a million times before, you'd think I'd know what the fuck to say to make this right by now. But I never do, the rules always seem to change, and I always seem for some reason to get it wrong. So when you think about it, I'm damned if I do, damned it I don't, as they say. Taking a deep, anxious breath I try to softly win him over.
"I'm sorry, hon. I didn't hear you come in. I wasn't expecting you for at least another half hour." Gingerly walking towards him, I wrap my shaky arms around his chest and lean my head on his tense shoulders. "How was your day, babe? Did you have another rough one? Can I get you something? Anything? A drink perhaps?"
Then before I know it, with a move so swift I didn't see it coming, he spins abruptly and roughly grabs me by the back of the head. The steam hits my face, dampening my skin. I release a small groan when his fingers entwine in my hair, pulling on the roots tight, as I find myself being held inches from my boiling pot of spaghetti sauce. Then with his lips pressed tight against my ear, he angrily hisses through gritted teeth, "Edward... Darling… You know better than this, right? If I've taught you anything at all, I know I've taught you at least this, or is that thick skull of yours way too dense to comprehend what I'm saying?"
And as I try to keep my eyes opened and my head strains against his grip trying desperately to keep it away from the scalding sauce, I finally see what he is talking about. In the mere seconds it took me to grab the laundry and carry it to our room, my boiling pot has made a mess on his prestigiously clean, very expensive stove top. Swallowing hard, trying to catch my breath, I nervously do my best to reason with him. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry. I... I didn't mean to be gone so long. And I rea..real..really thought I'd turned the heat down so this would be prevented. Le..let me get you that dri..drink, hon. Then I'll get this cleaned up an..and we can sit and have a nice dinner. As you can see, I made your favorite, babe."
And as his grip loosens and I'm spun to face him, now bent backwards over the hot stove top, he brings his face closer to mine. I beggingly stare into his wild gaze, hoping my quivering lip grants me some mercy, unable to breathe when I feel his huge hand glide over my chest and his fingers fold around my throat. I swallow hard, and my eyes involuntarily fall shut when he sourly speaks.
"Edward! Is it really too much for you to follow a few simple rules, babe? You know I'm really an easygoing person, don't you? You know I wouldn't have to do this if you would just listen and pay me some mind. It's not hard, Edward. It doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to comprehend a few fucking rules, now does it? That's all I ask, babe, and then life would be so much simpler. I swear, just follow the few rules I have set in place, and everyone can be happy. Do you understand, Edward! Are you listening to me?" Knowing he doesn't really want an answer or to hear my voice, I grant him a small, nervous nod.
Taking his hand from around my throat, he straightens and releases me, letting me stand upright. And as he turns slowly to walk away, I run my fingers through my wet, sticky hair, and let a long sigh of relief escape my lips. Then I jump, awkwardly releasing a small yelp, when he swings around and brings his flat palm to meet my flushed cheek. A small evil grin dawns on his face when he notices me cower and swallow hard, wiggling his eyebrows playfully before he speaks again. "See, Edward! See how easy this all is? It would all go so smoothly if you would just listen." Then leaning in, pulling me flush with his broad chest, he attacks my mouth with the utmost of vigor, his lips so tight, I'm unable to catch my breath.
Waking with a startle, I anxiously fumble for the bedside lamp. Once the room is illuminated, my eyes dart frantically around the space, my gaze searching every corner, following every shadow. Drawing a deep, long breath into my strangled lungs and nervously running my fingers through my now damp hair, I give my eyes time to adjust. My shaky hands anxiously find their way to my quivering lips, ghosting the curves of my mouth. I sigh deeply when I realize it was all just a dream, just a really bad dream.
Though my night was restless and my sleep not deep, my time spent tossing and turning with flashes of memories like old time horror movies scrambling my brain, I still wake less tense than I have in a long time, and somewhat refreshed. I softly chant my new mantra as I pull back the covers, heading for the shower, unwilling to let this day be like every other, determined to start this one anew. And with a broad smile, I find I'm ready to take on whatever it has to offer.
Casually perched on the countertop, letting my legs dangle lazily, I sip on my well-earned cup of coffee while I scan the morning paper. Proudly, I let my eyes take in my little kitchen, It's old and needs some tender loving care, and although it might not be as shiny and pristine as the one I just left, it still overwhelms me that I get to call it my own. Jumping down, turning to wash my cup in the sink, knowing it should be rinsed and put away before it's even cooled, I turn on the faucet, letting the water run warm. Quickly, I catch myself thinking, 'What the fuck's the rush, Edward? And who the hell is here to tell you any different?' And with acheesy grin, I decide to calmly just place it in the sink for later, maybe even way later. Then retrieving my note from the fridge, I give it one final glance over, checking the window locks once more and pushing every door open wider on my down the hall before I head to the store.
Rounding the corner of the cereal aisle, I freeze, listening terrified as my knuckles crack when my fingers wrap tautly around the handle of the cart, and my throat runs dry. Letting my eyelashes fall against my cheeks, I try to steady my overly-pounding heart as my body slowly starts to tremble. Unwilling or unable to open my eyes, I hold my breath as the scent tries to consume me and the aroma dances in my nostrils. The nervous pounding in my head drowns out the market's noises, wanting to explode, threatening to combust with fear.
'Fuck! It's him. I'd recognize the smell of his expensive, yet offensive, cologne anywhere. How the hell did he find me? How the fuck did he know? Oh, right! He knows everything!' Trying to breathe deeply, feeling the nervous sweat trickle under my shirt down the ridges of my back, I hear his obnoxious voice ring in my ears. "Edward! Edward!" My eyelids are heavy, refusing to cooperate and open. The fear that tone instills in me shakes me to the core. My breath hitches anxiously when I hear it again. "Edward! Edward? Are you ignoring me?" And just when it got to the point of no return, the moment I knew I could just drop everything and flee, a sudden peace washes over me and my lids flutter open. My eyes squint and my brow furrows, adjusting to the markets light's as they dart confusedly in every direction.
My cart being nudged brings me back to reality as a tall, dark-haired, well-dressed guy stretches across and in front of me, to the shelf a little beyond his reach. Turning his head, giving me a small apologetic smile, he quickly grabs a box of kids' cereal before looking, at my sure to be- bewildered gaze, confused, then saying, "Sorry, dude, in a little bit of a hurry." Shaking the box in my face, he continues, "You know what it's like. I'm sure you have kids. You can never make it home from work without a call from the wife reminding you to pick something up. Am I right?"
And as I feel myself ease and my heart and breathing become normal, I draw in a deep breath to steady myself. Nervously chuckling when I realize the offensive aroma of the expensive cologne was his, I'm able to grant him a small smile, and a sharp, understanding nod. And with a "Yup! That's what I thought," he quickly turns and leaves.
My relief is short lived, as once again, I hear my name being called, sending a cold shiver down my spine, holding my breath when I realize just how close it is this time. "Edward?" Shaking my head slightly, kicking myself when I recognize the familiar voice, smiling inwardly when it rings in my ears once more. "Edward? Mr. Mason?" Turning ever so slowly, I'm greeted with a pair of bright amber eyes and a gleaming pearly white grin.
"Wow! Mr. Cul... I mean Jasper. I'm sorry I didn't hear you call my name."
His grin grows even wider, but his eyes show concern, and focus as he replies, "Damn! I thought you were ignoring me there for a minute." Giving a deep chuckle, he continues, "Made me a little worried, to be honest. Way to give a guy an inferiority complex. Not like I haven't been calling your name or trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes."
Closing my eyes, remembering someone calling me earlier, I steady myself, continuing with a grin of my own. "I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you. And really, Jasper, I'm way too new in this town. I don't have enough friends yet to start ignoring people so soon."
Releasing a small and what sounded like a nervous laugh, he replies, "It's okay, I understand. I didn't realize you were talking to someone until it was too late."
Thinking back to the well-dressed husband with the offensive cologne, I start to chuckle. Jasper stares at me with a little amusement dancing in his eyes, enabling me to give a playful response.
"Oh, him? Yeah! We were discussing our wives and children."
He takes a small step back, his eyes squinting questionably as he asks, "You have a wife? And kids? But I thought?"
I laugh heartily at his confusion, the unfamiliar sound ringing in my ears once more, hoping to all that will listen that I never get used to hearing it and it never gets old. I reply, "Nah! No wife, no kids, no nothing." Well… at the moment, but he didn't need to know that now, did he?
And with our uplifting mood following us, Jasper escorts me around the store for the next hour. Our banter is light and carefree while we both take turns loading my cart, and he eagerly fills me in on life in this sleepy little town, with some of its weird and slightly quirky occupants, also explaining in great detail what I should expect come Monday, when I start my new job at the high school.
Only when we get to the counter and I pay for my groceries, while Jasper helps pack my bags, do I become a little confused. But before I could voice my concern, my eyes sneakily side glancing between my food, the now filled bags and Jasper's empty hands, does he speak. I swallow hard, not wanting to look rude and offend him, guessing he has noticed my perplexed stare. "Oh, I wasn't here to buy anything. I saw you through the window and came in to say hello and inquire how you were doing." And as I watch his eyes, his stare searching my face looking for something, I grant him a smile, noticing the corners of his mouth curve in response when he finds what he wants and senses me relax.
I'm busily loading the car, with Jasper's assistance, of course, when a weird sensation creeps through me, causing my skin to prickle under my shirt. I stare at him for a second, getting myself lost in thought. His willingness to help me is overwhelming. His ability to keep me at ease, truthfully, is a feeling I'm unfamiliar with, but something I've always longed and yearned for. I spent so many years feeling trapped and alone, and considering myself useless, it's nice to finally have a friend that seems to appreciate my company.
Unusually aware of what seems my every move and anxious thought, Jasper abruptly stops loading the trunk, and effortlessly takes a few steps away as he turns to face me straight on. Raising a questioning eyebrow, he inquires, "Are you all right, Edward? Is there something wrong?" Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, he continues, "I can go if I'm making you feel uncomfortable."
Staring at him, trying to understand and do my best to come to terms with how I'm feeling, I recognize uncertainty as it washes over him and tries its best to diminish his handsome looks. Uncharacteristically reaching out, I place my hand softly on his forearm. My breath nervously hitches when I'm unable to make full contact, jumping slightly when Jasper steps swiftly out of my reach. His eyes narrow, and I hear what sounds like - if I'm not mistaken - a sharp hiss release itself from under his breath.
Taken aback and a little stunned, I step to the side with what I'm sure is a look of bewilderment and confusion, as I watch Jasper squirm uncomfortably. A little disappointed in myself for causing him to feel this way, I try my best to make amends. But as I open my mouth to apologize, I'm unable to do so, cause he doesn't give me a chance. He doesn't let me explain. He urgently places the last two bags in the trunk, closing it with a loud thud, the noise dragging my eyes from him for a mere second as I watch the car's rear rattle from the force of the slam.
Then sensing emptiness around me, suddenly getting the feeling I was alone, I look up in time to see Jasper inches from his own vehicle. And as he pulls open the door and swiftly glides into its cab, he glances over his shoulder in my direction. Giving a sharp nod and an apologetic grin, he yells, "Forgot I was out to pick something up for Car… my Dad. Call me if you need anything, Edward!"
Standing stunned and confused, my eyes darting around the store's parking lot, I have to give myself a minute to comprehend what just happened. My head spun with the conversation we'd just had in the grocery store. My thoughts wandered to us loading the car, but I couldn't find anything. I couldn't come up with a good enough answer for his peculiar reaction. Deciding to give it more thought later, I climb into my car and head for home.
Pulling into my driveway, grabbing the bags, knowing I'll have to make a few trips, I head up the steps to the porch. Turning my key in the lock still makes me smile big at the thought that this gorgeous little house is all, mine and mine alone, continues to make me giddy.
But when I step across its threshold, my belly cramps and my chest tightens, as I feel all breathable air get sucked frantically from the room. My head starts to float and my body trembles, and I'm only brought back to reality when the plastic bags hit the floor and canned goods clank and rattle at my feet.
Staring towards my kitchen, the short entry gets longer and narrower in my blurry tunnel vision. Because really, I know what I see, but seriously it's not what I'm supposed to. Cause what's supposed to be in front of me is my cute little kitchen table and chairs. I should be able to walk right to it and place my bags on top.
But I can't, cause it's not there; but what is - is a door.
My head spins as my eyes dart frantically around the small space. I'm unable to control my breathing. As my nervous, watery eyes fall upon each and every door in my hall, panic and horror set in when I realize every fucking one, the living room, dining room, between me and the kitchen, has been closed tight.
Then suddenly, the tiny little hairs on the back of my neck spring to attention and my blood runs cold when his sarcastic voice, deep and monotone rings in my weary, frightened ears. "Edward?"
Hope you guys think this is something worth continuing to read, let me know your thoughts.