Thanks for the interest in my story. For those of you who have reviewed, the time you have taken is always appreciated.
Thank you to everyone at Project Team Beta. You have helped me so much. Again, I strongly suggest everyone to use their services. The link is still in my profile. My work is my own but without the beta's to help, it would be worthless. They are looking for more betas if you are interested.
Thank you to my permanent betas: Strider and jfka06.
I do not own any of these characters, or the original plot to the Twilight Series. Everything publicly recognizable belongs to their owners. I am doing this only for the pleasure I gain from writing and I am not associated with anyone or anything to do with the Twilight Series. There is no financial benefit, whatsoever, though I may wish there were.
My work is my own.
I laid in my bed, huddled beneath the security of my warm flannel sheets and down comforter. I was attempting to hide from the catastrophe taking place in the bedroom down the hall. My mom and dad were fighting... again. Tonight it was a pretty bad one; I could hear them clearly. The volume and frequency of their arguments had been increasing over the last few months. I shoved my pillow over my head, muffling the sound of their screams minutely. It was never enough.
"I should never have stayed with you this long," my mom shrieked, her high voice cutting through the otherwise silent house. "I never wanted to be stuck here, trapped in a life I hate. Bella's the only good thing I've got. I should've run with her when she was a baby. All of us would've been better off."
Don't bring me into it, mom.
"That's enough," my dad bellowed. "Don't bring Bella into this. You know I love you, but your melodramatics are getting to be too much. Just because you can't be a responsible adult, you... You're the one who made the mistake here, not me, sweetheart."
"How dare you sweetheart me?" my mom yelled, drowning out my dad's voice. "You promised we'd get out, that we'd have a better life than either of our parents. Well, news flash, we don't. I'm the only one of my friends still trapped here. Scraping pennies together to survive. I-"
"If you hadn't wasted the cash on Jane Fonda tapes and exercise crap, instead of paying the bills, we wouldn't be in this mess," my dad bellowed, cutting her off. "Because of you, the heating bill is so far behind, they're coming to turn it off. What would you have done if you had Bella on your own? How would bills have gotten paid? What about food? You can't honestly think that your cooking skills would have provided a healthy diet for her."
"You're bringing my cooking into this? You can't even order a damn pizza." She was pissed. I wasn't sure how many times I'd even heard her curse.
Dad yelled something back, and they went on and on, point and counterpoint, rebuttal after rebuttal. I lay in my bed, the tears flowing freely down my cheeks.
Why did they have to argue like this? Would they have been happier apart? Was it because of me that they stayed together? I mean, they kept mentioning me, so I must've been the reason.
I tried to think of something else, something that would take my mind off their shouting match. It was difficult. The only thing that came to mind was what my teacher had been talking about earlier in the day.
It seemed that there had been some sort of tragedy this morning. It was pretty scary, actually. There had been a teacher from somewhere in America, and she was going to go into space. She was going to be an astronaut, which was pretty cool, really. But this morning, when the shuttle was taking off, something really scary happened. It exploded. I saw the video on the TV many times after I got home from school.
The shuttle took off and everything looked okay. Then it just, like, broke apart. There was a ball of gas or something and the shuttle was gone, along with the seven people who had been on it. It was very sad.
It had happened either when I was in lunch, or just before. We didn't hear about it until Social Studies, my class with Mr. Guenther. He was really shaken. The lady that had died had been a Social Studies teacher, too. He had been so excited that someone who taught the same subject as him was going to do something "monumentous," as he called it. When I walked in, it looked like he'd been crying or something. He was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, his body trembling as his breath hitched.
I was the first to enter and I noticed his hunched position right away. My discomfort at the situation made me more clumsy than usual, so I tripped over a non-existent crack in the floor and dropped my books. Mr. Guenther's head snapped up in my direction.
"Oh, sorry," I apologized.
"You're okay," Mr. Guenther said, after clearing his throat. "I didn't hear the bell to end lunch. Just sit down. We're not going to have a usual class today. I want to talk to everyone."
After the rest of the class sat at their desks and the bell rang, he began the frightening discussion. I felt terrible for the woman's family and friends, worrying about her kids, but the rest of the class wasn't affected quite as deeply.
I didn't understand them. I had never understood them, but how could they go around speaking about lipstick and hair when this lady and six other people had just died in a terrible accident?
Didn't they think about all the people this would affect, all the people who had lost a loved one? How could my parents fight like this when everything could end so quickly? That lady and the other people hadn't expected to die today. It just happened. They—my parents and classmates— were unbelievably selfish sometimes.
That word broke me from the earlier events.
Was I being selfish? Had I only seen how my parents' fighting affected me? Maybe they weren't happy together. Maybe things would've been better if they had separated a long time ago. But, who would I have been with?
I hated to think of choosing one of my parents over the other. If my mom had taken me away, would I have really known my dad? I wouldn't want that. My dad may not display emotion a lot, but I knew how he felt. I knew that he loved me. I shuddered at the thought of not having him as a part of my life growing up. That would've been terrible. He would've been so lonely.
How different would things have been if it had only been my mom and me?
My mom was sort of flighty. I loved her very much, but even I could see that. Would I have had to be the responsible one if I only had her? Would I have had to be the adult in a relationship where I was really the child?
I didn't want to think about these things. I wouldn't think about these things. They didn't happen, so why worry about them? I rolled over, grabbed my headphones, placed them over my ears, and turned on my radio, drowning out a little bit of the yelling still echoing around. Finally, I pulled the pillow tightly over my head, and the sounds of the argument were gone. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping for sleep.
I hope you enjoyed it. This was posted for Reader Appreciation Day so, as always, thanks for reading.
Those who read my story will notice a large difference between this Bella and the Bella in Lost Cause. She's just a kid here, so her thought process isn't quite the same. I tried to incorporate that. I hope I did an okay job!
This may not make that much sense but in the overall picture, it is in many ways a normal day in her life, barring the tragedy that is mentioned. From the events mentioned, and a little research, you can guess what day this takes place (and it's before Sep 13, 1987). It's a teeny tiny glimpse into part of Bella's back story. I wanted to supply a "day in the life" prior to Lost Cause actually takes place. Hopefully it gives a little substance.
Again, I want to thank those who nominated Lost Cause for an Indie TwiFic Award! I am so grateful that you not only took the time to read my story, but that you also liked it enough to nominate it for an Indie. You really knock me off my feet. Thank you, thank you, thank you.