Spitefic: He Loves Me... He Loves Me Not
Jan. 25th, 2011 01:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
das-mervin.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
twispiteficTitle: He Loves Me…He Loves Me Not
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
das_mervin
Fandom(s): Twilight
Rating: PG for thematic elements
Word Count: 975
Inspiration: Written in response to Edward openly admitting to stalking Bella Swan in chapter nine of Twilight.
Warnings: Stalking and potential abuse.
Summary: Edward Cullen admits to following Bella across town. Canon Bella is flattered. Real Bella is… not.
“You…followed me?” I said, trying my best to keep my voice light.
“I had to,” he replied, sounding fervent now. “You weren’t safe—you aren’t ever safe.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, you—you really don’t need to do that,” I managed.
He raised an eyebrow. “And what happened tonight doesn’t prove that?”
My stomach dropped unpleasantly, and I cast about for words. “Um…exactly how long have you been, uh, watching over me?” Keeping my voice even was becoming a struggle, but he didn’t seem to catch any wavering in my voice.
“Long enough,” he said with a smug smile.
That answer was considerably worse than the one I was expecting. I stabbed rather roughly at another ravioli, but didn’t bother trying to eat it. Instead, I pushed away from the table.
“Where are you going?” Edward immediately demanded, his eyes suspicious.
Keeping my voice deliberately light, I answered, “I have a feeling we might be a while—I’d like to call my dad and tell him I’ll be out for a bit longer than planned.”
The answer seemed to please him, and he leaned back in his chair and nodded as if giving me permission. I squashed the reflexive urge to bristle as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, setting it on the table and pushing it towards me. “Go ahead and use my phone,” he said magnanimously.
I snatched it off of the table and walked around the back partition as fast as I could without seeming like I was running. I made a beeline for the bathroom, praying to whatever gods there were that it was empty—I exhaled a sigh of relief when said prayers were answered, and in spades. Not only was it empty, but it was a single. I shut and locked the door behind me before flipping open the phone, slowly and deliberately dialing to compensate for my shaking fingers.
I held my breath as the phone rang once, twice, and then let out a relieved exhale when I heard the familiar click of a receiver.
“Hello?”
“Dad—it’s me,” I said, my words coming out in a reflexive whisper.
“Bella?” He sounded confused.
“Dad, listen—I’m in Port Angeles. I need help,” I managed, getting my voice a little louder.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was alarmed now.
“I’m at a restaurant called Bella Italia—I’m here with Edward Cullen—”
“I thought you were going out with Jessica and Angela—”
“I did, Dad,” I interrupted, “—but he’s here now. Dad, he—he followed me here and—and he made me go to dinner with him.”
A brief silence, and then “What?”
“He says he followed me to Port Angeles—all over Port Angeles—and that he’s been following me for even longer.” The dam broke, and the story came out in a babbling rush, my words tumbling over themselves. “I don’t know how long he’s been doing it, but—Dad, I’m really scared. He keeps talking about how it’s for my own good and that he’s not going to stop. I even asked him to stop—told him to stop—but he said he wouldn’t—”
“Bella—Bella!” Charlie said, stemming the tide. “Calm down—he’ll stop—I’ll stop him.” Never in my life had I been so happy to hear that implacable tone from my father. “You said you were at—was it Bella Italia?”
“Yeah,” I managed, leaning backwards against the door, a surge of relief leaving me weak in the knees.
“I’m coming to get you. Do not leave that restaurant under any circumstances,” he ordered.
“Okay,” I said, but then on the heels of my relief came a horrible notion. “But, Dad,” I said urgently, my voice going low and scared again, “you’re an hour away and—what if he makes me leave? He’s a lot stronger than I am—I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Then scream. Make a huge scene and get people’s attention. That will get the Port Angeles police involved in some way or another—just don’t leave that restaurant. I’ll be right there, baby—just try to hold on,” he replied. His words were reassuring, but his voice spoke of other things—fear, anger…and worry.
“Okay—please hurry, Dad,” I managed.
“It’s gonna be okay, Bella” he said. “Just sit tight, and I’ll be right there.”
“Okay,” I whispered, and the receiver clicked again as he hung up.
I flipped the phone shut, and then leaned against the wall, wrapping my arms around myself and squeezing my eyes shut. Okay, I said to myself. Delay for an hour—surely I could do that. Surely I could find some way to keep us here for an hour. And then Charlie would be here.
Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and swung it open, schooling my face into a pleasant mask, my steps sure and determined—and stopped short.
Edward was leaning casually against the partition, staring at me, his unblinking eyes intent. Forcing myself to move, I gave him a small smile that I hoped didn’t feel too like a grimace, and handed him his cell phone before moving towards our table; he fell smoothly into step on my heels.
“Two minutes, sixteen seconds,” he murmured as I sat down, sliding into his seat across from me. He raised one eyebrow. “That was a long time—was Chief Swan uncooperative?”
I swallowed as my blood ran cold, my palms beginning to sweat. “He just wanted details,” I managed weakly.
Edward smiled. “I assume you want more now, too.”
I picked up my fork and gave a few small pokes at my ravioli. “I would,” I said, dropping my fork and reaching for a breadstick, which I began to tear into tiny bites. “But by all means—take your time.”
Author:
das_mervinFandom(s): Twilight
Rating: PG for thematic elements
Word Count: 975
Inspiration: Written in response to Edward openly admitting to stalking Bella Swan in chapter nine of Twilight.
Warnings: Stalking and potential abuse.
Summary: Edward Cullen admits to following Bella across town. Canon Bella is flattered. Real Bella is… not.
“You…followed me?” I said, trying my best to keep my voice light.
“I had to,” he replied, sounding fervent now. “You weren’t safe—you aren’t ever safe.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, you—you really don’t need to do that,” I managed.
He raised an eyebrow. “And what happened tonight doesn’t prove that?”
My stomach dropped unpleasantly, and I cast about for words. “Um…exactly how long have you been, uh, watching over me?” Keeping my voice even was becoming a struggle, but he didn’t seem to catch any wavering in my voice.
“Long enough,” he said with a smug smile.
That answer was considerably worse than the one I was expecting. I stabbed rather roughly at another ravioli, but didn’t bother trying to eat it. Instead, I pushed away from the table.
“Where are you going?” Edward immediately demanded, his eyes suspicious.
Keeping my voice deliberately light, I answered, “I have a feeling we might be a while—I’d like to call my dad and tell him I’ll be out for a bit longer than planned.”
The answer seemed to please him, and he leaned back in his chair and nodded as if giving me permission. I squashed the reflexive urge to bristle as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, setting it on the table and pushing it towards me. “Go ahead and use my phone,” he said magnanimously.
I snatched it off of the table and walked around the back partition as fast as I could without seeming like I was running. I made a beeline for the bathroom, praying to whatever gods there were that it was empty—I exhaled a sigh of relief when said prayers were answered, and in spades. Not only was it empty, but it was a single. I shut and locked the door behind me before flipping open the phone, slowly and deliberately dialing to compensate for my shaking fingers.
I held my breath as the phone rang once, twice, and then let out a relieved exhale when I heard the familiar click of a receiver.
“Hello?”
“Dad—it’s me,” I said, my words coming out in a reflexive whisper.
“Bella?” He sounded confused.
“Dad, listen—I’m in Port Angeles. I need help,” I managed, getting my voice a little louder.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was alarmed now.
“I’m at a restaurant called Bella Italia—I’m here with Edward Cullen—”
“I thought you were going out with Jessica and Angela—”
“I did, Dad,” I interrupted, “—but he’s here now. Dad, he—he followed me here and—and he made me go to dinner with him.”
A brief silence, and then “What?”
“He says he followed me to Port Angeles—all over Port Angeles—and that he’s been following me for even longer.” The dam broke, and the story came out in a babbling rush, my words tumbling over themselves. “I don’t know how long he’s been doing it, but—Dad, I’m really scared. He keeps talking about how it’s for my own good and that he’s not going to stop. I even asked him to stop—told him to stop—but he said he wouldn’t—”
“Bella—Bella!” Charlie said, stemming the tide. “Calm down—he’ll stop—I’ll stop him.” Never in my life had I been so happy to hear that implacable tone from my father. “You said you were at—was it Bella Italia?”
“Yeah,” I managed, leaning backwards against the door, a surge of relief leaving me weak in the knees.
“I’m coming to get you. Do not leave that restaurant under any circumstances,” he ordered.
“Okay,” I said, but then on the heels of my relief came a horrible notion. “But, Dad,” I said urgently, my voice going low and scared again, “you’re an hour away and—what if he makes me leave? He’s a lot stronger than I am—I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Then scream. Make a huge scene and get people’s attention. That will get the Port Angeles police involved in some way or another—just don’t leave that restaurant. I’ll be right there, baby—just try to hold on,” he replied. His words were reassuring, but his voice spoke of other things—fear, anger…and worry.
“Okay—please hurry, Dad,” I managed.
“It’s gonna be okay, Bella” he said. “Just sit tight, and I’ll be right there.”
“Okay,” I whispered, and the receiver clicked again as he hung up.
I flipped the phone shut, and then leaned against the wall, wrapping my arms around myself and squeezing my eyes shut. Okay, I said to myself. Delay for an hour—surely I could do that. Surely I could find some way to keep us here for an hour. And then Charlie would be here.
Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and swung it open, schooling my face into a pleasant mask, my steps sure and determined—and stopped short.
Edward was leaning casually against the partition, staring at me, his unblinking eyes intent. Forcing myself to move, I gave him a small smile that I hoped didn’t feel too like a grimace, and handed him his cell phone before moving towards our table; he fell smoothly into step on my heels.
“Two minutes, sixteen seconds,” he murmured as I sat down, sliding into his seat across from me. He raised one eyebrow. “That was a long time—was Chief Swan uncooperative?”
I swallowed as my blood ran cold, my palms beginning to sweat. “He just wanted details,” I managed weakly.
Edward smiled. “I assume you want more now, too.”
I picked up my fork and gave a few small pokes at my ravioli. “I would,” I said, dropping my fork and reaching for a breadstick, which I began to tear into tiny bites. “But by all means—take your time.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 12:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 07:54 pm (UTC)