A/N: Reposting this madness. It's written and finished. The first few will be words you see in the one-shot on the other story posted. Starting fresh on a new story post so that chapters are short and sweet. There are about 74 chaps (not including epi), most like drabble. Ready?
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Is This The Worst Time To Kiss You?
. .
. .
..::.. Chapter 1 - Neighbor ..::..
He wears crisp, white boxers. The t-shirt was once white, but now it just looks worn and yellow. The robe is not one you'd find in a store these days. The plaid is a mix of browns, yellows, beiges, and whites. It hits his knees, but when he bends in the yard to do his morning exercise in socks and flip flops, it rides up. And just to give a nice little visual, he doesn't always wear those crisp white boxers. Like looking into the sun, you have to look away. Not a bone of shame in that one.
The town calls him "Berserky" who likes to wander into convenience stores, rip into beef jerky and gnaw on the sticks in the middle of the aisle. No one would get near because if you did, you'd get whacked in the ear. Sharp and quick. It happened that day, a few months back, and to everyone's surprise. Duly noted.
Worst part was the middle schooler ran out the store with a bleeding eardrum, crying his eyes out. He was one of the worst school bullies who had made a few quiet classmates bleed, even run them out of town, family and all. So, it wasn't like everyone was going out of their way to run to his aid quickly, maybe just appalled watching all the blood running down his neck.
You could hear the mom yelling and running up the street, purse in hand, to press him to her Double D sized bosom. But everyone knows Ms. Cherrie is a bit of a problem in town, too—the badgering, cop-calling, nosy bitch you get as a neighbor. So, really, who was to say it wasn't a turn of karma?
We went about our day, but not before we made sure to watch Berserky casually leave the store, robe waving away behind him. He had a handful of unpurchased beef jerky and vacant eyes. We realized the severity of this situation. He could hurt anyone. He wasn't tamed.
Dad told me once, his tabs were taken care of by a rich uncle in the city. Berserky never did pay for an item he snatched up. Everyone seemed to be fine with that—ten-foot pole fine.
I saw the chaos walking to work. I had my eyes on little Bobby with the bleeding ear. I didn't notice Berserky walk by. When he did, his shoulder connected with mine. I stumbled back and looked just in time to see those scabbed up knuckles of his make it through the nest of hair he had on his crazy head.
That was the third time he ever made contact with me. He never did bang at his head with fists and throw a fit; that only happened when others ran into him. And it was an easy mistake to make. He made sure to take up a sidewalk all to himself, zigzagging his way back home. Not because he was drunk or high on pills, though I'm sure he was. He zigzagged because fuck the world and get out of his way.
I'm not sure exactly the day Berserky became this...unhinged. I try to think back on it. The days past, in class, when I called him Edward and he'd respond. Sharp green eyes. Sharp jaw. Sharp wit. Like a whip.
Some say he didn't take his grandfather's passing well. My guess it's why he kept the robe. That thinned out cotton never left his grandfather's shoulders when he was home.
Some say it was when his mother died of a broken heart. No one was sure, but it was anyone's guess. Edward Cullen Sr. was tragically murdered on that fateful day, the bones and skin finding purchase on gravel as he was dragged. Some whisper here and there, years later, that they can still find strands of his hair between pavement cracks, woven in weeds. Thick bronze hair.
The Cullen men were the most fierce, brawny looking males in town. Their looks got them in trouble. Loving or falling for any one of them was like making a deal with the devil. That cut up body of Edward Sr. was still young. Never even saw the age of forty. In those cracks, not a single woven hair was gray. Bronze strong.
I didn't witness the scene. I don't remember much anymore. Everyone got an eyeful, though. That body tied to the bumper of a Continental like a new parade came to town. Every elderly, child, man and woman saw an unrecognizable man, naked and bloody. Some limbs missing. A warning to the family.
No, Edward wasn't well from that day on. A healthy state of mind wasn't part of his daily life or surroundings. I would know. I'm the only one with a good view inside his windows.
Edward 'Berserky' Cullen Jr. is my neighbor.
...