Chapter Text
amor fati (latin): "love of fate" or "love of one's fate". an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one's life, including suffering and loss, as good or, at the very least, necessary.
one.
“Is that her?”
“Yeah, they brought her in half an hour ago.”
“She looks a wreck, the poor thing...”
“What do you suppose happened to her?”
The voices carry loudly in the quiet, no matter how desperately their owners try to keep them low. She tries to ignore them from her seat against the back wall, legs tucked up against her chest like a shield. They make it rather difficult though, with the way they keep carrying on as if she's deaf or something. God but she wishes they’d all just shut up. Her arms come up to wrap around her legs, fingers clutching clumsily at her clothes. She’s been on edge since she got here and all the attention isn’t helping.
People keep looking at her, all sideways glances and about faces like that will make it any less obvious. It makes her uncomfortable. Like ants crawling under her skin. Not that she doesn’t understand the impulse; she’s sure she makes for a real sorry sight. She'd gotten a jacket somewhere along the way, and some boots too, but her bare legs are still slick with mud and blood that is trickling through the gaps in her chair to stain the linoleum below. Her finger nails are ragged and bloody, her hair shorn short and messy. She’s sure her face doesn’t look much better. Knowing why doesn’t make the staring any less unbearable though.
A door slams open and suddenly the room becomes a whole lot louder. A group of police officers file in, talking in loud, sharp voices. Something bubbles up in her chest at the noise, hot and constricting. It makes her want to run. That’s a stupid idea though, and she knows it. Where would she go? She doesn’t even know where she is.
The thought is sobering. She curls further into herself, tightening the vice of her arms around her knees. It’s fine. She’ll figure this out. It’s fine.
One of the police officers breaks off from the group and begins to make his way towards her. Instinctively, she tenses, angling her body towards him defensively. He’s not a tall man, or a particularly well built one, but he’s still probably stronger than her.
It takes a second for her to recognise him. But then the sterile light of the station cuts across his face, throwing the stern features, dark eyes and bushy moustache into stark relief, and something in her head slots into place. It’s the man from the woods. The one who'd found her there, wandering, half-naked and feeling a little more than half-dead. The jacket he'd given her still hangs limply from her shoulders, about ten sizes too big for her small frame. She twists her fingers in the material as she watches him, dark eyes wary.
Trust no one, dear heart, a familiar-unfamiliar voice echoes in her head. She doesn’t intend to disregard the advice.
He approaches slowly, as if she’s some kind of wounded animal. It looks like he expects her to shatter like glass beneath his fingertips as he reaches out to rest a cautious hand on her shoulder. That’s fair. She isn’t entirely sure she won’t herself.
“How you holding up, kiddo?” His voice is gruff but not unkind. It reminds her of something (someone?) that she can’t quite place. It frustrates her.
She looks back at him blankly for a long moment.
He’s patient with her though, waiting. It surprises her just how grateful she is for that. Eventually she swallows, working her throat. “I’m...” Her voice comes out even rougher than his, raw and almost painful. “Fine, I think.”
“That’s good.” He sounds like he really means it, and the sincerity throws her a little off balance. She blinks. And then nods, as if he’d asked for her agreement.
He smiles, a small thing that makes his face into something much softer. “Listen, I know this has been a real tough night for you, kiddo, but I need to know if you remember anything else besides what you told me when we got here.” She barely remembers what that even was. Not that it means much, since she barely remembers much of anything at all. “I know you told me you didn’t, but I need you to try for me. Can you do that?”
“I'm sorry,” she says, unable to stop her arms from drawing her legs tighter into her body. “I don’t...”
“Hey, no, that’s fine kid,” the man hastens to reassure. “Just make sure to let me know if anything comes up, alright?”
“Okay,” she hopes it doesn’t sound as noncommittal to his ears as it does her own. “But, uh, who are you, exactly? Sorry.” She adds quickly when she sees him reel back a little.
He flushes slightly. “Ah no, kid, don’t worry about it,” he says gruffly. “Just used to being recognised on sight, I s'pose. Chief Swan of the Forks Police Department. You can call me Charlie though, if that’s easier.”
“Nice to meet you,” she responds, driven by some unspoken instinct, “I'm Alice.” And then she freezes, blinking rapidly. Alice. It sounds right, falling from her lips as naturally as her breath.
Charlie seems to notice her surprise, moustache rippling as he reaches out again to squeeze her shoulder gently. Tensing is an ingrained response, and though she tries to hide it she doesn’t quite succeed. Charlie’s brow furrows slightly but he doesn’t comment – something else to be grateful for. She couldn’t explain it even if he asked.
“There we are, kid,” he says. “Making progress already. Don’t you worry, everything’s gonna be just fine. We’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, alright Alice?”
It’s beyond stupid, but with those kind eyes looking at her like that, and the gentle heat of the first human contact she can remember receiving lingering on her skin, Alice almost wants to believe him.
***
“Charlie, I'm off! See you at dinner!” Alice doesn’t bother waiting for a response, letting the door swing shut behind her as she skips down the drive. If she let him, he'd delay them both by at least another twenty minutes, asking in that awkward way of his if she had everything and if she was nervous and if she was really sure about this. And any other time she might indulge him, but not today. As fond as she’s come to be of the man, she refuses to be late to her first day of actual high school. First impressions are everything, after all.
And, well, she’d never tell him this, but his lack of faith in her kind of rankles. She gets it. Really, she does. She’s not sure how much she’d trust the crazy amnesiac she’d found on the side of the road either if their positions were reversed, but that doesn’t make it sting any less. Besides, she’s nervous enough as it is; she doesn’t need him making it worse.
She hops into her car and gets it going with the ease of practice. It’s a tiny thing, an old bottle red Volkswagen Beetle that she absolutely adores. Charlie had initially tried to pawn his friend Billy Black's old truck off on her but Alice had put her foot down. The thing was ugly as hell. And probably one sharp turn away from a complete breakdown. Like hell would she be the one who had to deal with that, Charlie’s friend or no.
So they’d compromised. Charlie had agreed to pay a little extra to get his hands on the Beetle, which had belonged to Billy's daughter Rebecca before she swanned off to Hawaii with her new husband, and in exchange Alice would see to any work the car needed doing herself. Which, as it turned out, had been a lot. Luckily, Jacob Black was both a budding mechanical genius and easily swayed by the promise of baked goods. Not a half bad teacher either, actually, though she still was far from confident enough to be doing any serious maintenance by herself. Alice had come out of the whole affair one car and one friend heavier, which in hindsight might have been Charlie's plan all along.
The drive to Forks, Washington's only high school is uneventful. Which, normally, wouldn’t be a problem, but today of all days just gives Alice more time to psyche herself up. By the time she’s pulling into the still deserted parking lot at the front of the main building, she’s all but vibrating with a boundless kind of restless energy. She as good as leaps from the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making a beeline for the main office.
It seems rather small for what it is, from the outside at least, but then what does Alice know? Maybe all schools look like this.
The inside is even tinier, if that’s possible. Alice takes it all in with an avid interest; the awards on the wall, the small waiting area at the front, the ghastly orange tinge to the carpet. A large clock is leant against one wall, ticking away loudly, and seemingly every other available surface is covered in one potted plant or another, making the place look even more cramped than it is. In short, it looks nothing at all like the teen movies she’d watched in preparation for this moment had told her it would. Alice feels her lips spring up into a grin. Good. She'd had a hard time getting into them anyway.
“Hello,” she chirps, prancing over to the only occupied desk. “I'm Alice Swan, I've come to get my schedule?” The surname had been a big thing, in Charlie’s quiet, unspoken way. Obviously Alice couldn’t use her old one on account of having no clue what it was, and at the time Alice Doe had just felt like salt in the wound. It'd left her in quite the pickle, legally speaking. She couldn’t just not have a last name after all. It hadn’t been until Charlie had suggested over dinner one night that she take his name, voice a little too airy to truly be casual, that a solution had presented itself. Frankly, it’d taken an embarrassingly short amount of time for her to agree.
She likes being Alice Swan. It makes them feel like a real family.
The red haired woman behind the counter looks up, glasses sliding down her nose at the suddenness of the movement. Her eyes are curious, assessing. Alice refuses to let her smile drop at the scrutiny. She'd expected this.
“Oh, of course!” The woman – Mrs Cope, according to her name plaque – says in realisation. “Just wait one second, I've got a map for you here too.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Alice says with an easy shrug. “I like your glasses, by the way. They really suit you.”
Mrs Cope looks back up at her for a moment, as if not quite sure whether the compliment is genuine or not. Alice shoots her another smile, sincere as she can make it. She can pinpoint the moment the older woman softens towards her, lips curling into a smile of her own. “Thank you,” she says with a nod, before flicking her gaze back down to the papers in front of her.
Alice beams. This is great. Hell, this is easy. She’s got this in the bag.
After she digs up her schedule, Mrs Cope takes the time to walk her through a map of the campus, highlighting the best path to each of her classes. She also produces a slip that she’s apparently to have each of her teachers sign, before packing her off with a wave and a smile. Alice slips back into her car and heads for the student parking lot.
It’s actually starting to fill up when she arrives, a steady trickle of traffic moving in to claim any empty parking spots. Alice doesn’t put too much thought to it beyond making sure to nab an end spot for herself because, as she’s recently learned, she has a bad habit of swerving a tad on the take off. Jacob's given her so much shit about it in the months since that first near miss. Which, whatever. It’s fine. Not everyone is a goddamn automotive genius.
She takes a deep breath, giving herself one last look over in the centre mirror. She looks good. Or at least far better than she did. The gaunt hollowness has finally abandoned her features, the sickly pallor of her skin toning down into a more natural paleness and her ink black hair brushing her jaw in an artfully messy cut, as opposed to the previous uneven chunks. So what if she'd maybe over dressed a tad in a fit of panic? Her ruffled blouse and ankle booties are still cute as hell. Really, it could be so much worse. The thought is enough of a confidence boost to get her up and out the door.
One hand white knuckling the strap of her bag, Alice plasters a smile on her face and makes her way inside. It’s all going to be fine. More than fine, actually. Like she said, she’s got this high school thing in the bag.
***
As it turns out, she does not, in fact, have this in the bag.
English passes without major incident, but that doesn’t make it fun. She hands in the slip Mrs Cope gave her to be signed and is relegated to an empty seat at the back of the room, which does little to stop the staring of her new classmates. Not that she thought it would, really, but, well, one can dream. It makes her just as uncomfortable as it always has, though she likes to think she’s gotten better at hiding it over the last year. No one even bothers actually trying to talk to her – too spooked by the town amnesiac maybe – which just makes the whole thing even more awkward. By the time class actually starts she’s half wishing she’d stayed at home after all.
Tight smile still firmly in place, Alice flicks a look over the reading list. Nothing she’s read before, unsurprisingly. It would honestly shock her more if there was something she recognised on there. Catching up on classic lit hasn’t exactly been her priority lately and she rather doubts that Harry Potter is of the appropriate literary standard to be a serious topic of study.
It isn’t until the bell rings that any of her classmates actually builds up the courage to pounce.
“You’re Alice, right?” A dark haired boy asks, appearing seemingly out of absolutely nowhere.
She jumps, barely managing to catch herself before she sends a textbook flying. Heads snap towards the noise and she feels her embarrassment stain her cheeks. Still, when she turns to face the boy it’s with a smile. “Yeah, that’s me! It’s nice to meet you...”
“Eric,” he provides.
“Nice to meet you, Eric,” she repeats, more firmly his time, extending a hand.
He seems surprised by the gesture, and then delighted. “You too!” His skin is hot and clammy when he reaches out to grasp her hand, and he holds on for just a little too long. Alice doesn’t let herself grimace. “Need any help getting to your next class?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”
“Oh, it’s no problem!”
He leads her across campus with all the confidence of military high command, peppering her with questions all the while. She’s sure at least half of the people they pass in the surrounding corridors are listening in. She doesn’t dare to hope that means she’ll only have to endure the interrogation once.
“So what’s it like living with the Chief?”
“Pretty cool really. He’s a nice man.”
“Yeah, he seems it. Must be hard though. I doubt you’ve managed to get much real fun in yet, have you?”
“Oh, it’s not so bad. Charlie’s not very strict.”
“Huh, really? I can’t imagine that. Law enforcement, y'know?” She doesn’t but she smiles and nods anyway. “I bet there’s loads of things you’ve wanted to try that you can’t do with him though, right?” Dark brows raise implicatively.
Not really. “Well, I suppose that’s what I'm here for, isn’t it? To meet people like you that I can do those things with.” She beams at him, trying to channel the cheerful energy and charm of some of the girls she’s seen on television. She isn’t sure how successful she is.
Eric flushes a bright pink, looking pleased. “Yeah, I guess.”
He drops her off at the door, but not before securing a promise to come find him at lunch. Alice waves him off with a smile and an agreement. He’s harmless, really. The aggressive questioning is a bit annoying, but she hadn’t really expected any less. And he hadn’t pressed her on anything truly sensitive. For that alone, she decides that she likes him.
The rest of the morning passes in a similar manner. She’s subjected to various introductions and questions about how she likes Forks, which she tries to field with grace. It’s a lot of names and faces though, and while she tries to commit them all to memory, she gets the feeling she’s going to have to ask for more than one clarification. It isn’t so bad though. She doesn’t mind talking to people. Only one teacher even bothers to make her introduce herself to the class which, while awkward, isn’t the worst thing in the world. By the time the lunch bell rings she’s almost enjoying herself.
***
Jessica, a girl about the size of Alice herself with hair twice as large, leads her into the lunch room with an air of great superiority. People stare as they pass but Alice is getting used to it by now. It’s like the first few days that she was let out to wander the town alone all over again. She hopes people lose interest here just as quickly though she isn’t holding her breath. High school is a much different beast than the rest of the known world, or so all the teen movies Jacob plied her with have told her.
She lets herself be herded towards one of the larger tables and ushered into a seat, pleased to see that Eric is already at the table. That’s good. It wouldn’t be nice to have to choose between the most promising of her tentative friendships this early on. Or at all really.
“This is Alice,” Jessica announces, as if presenting some kind of rare and exotic creature. “Alice, this is Mike, Eric, Ben, Angela, Lauren and Tyler.”
“We’ve already met,” Eric interjects, puffing out his chest like a peacock and completely denying anyone else the chance to speak. “How's your first day been, Alice?”
“Alright so far,” she responds, shooting him an easy smile before she turns her attention to the group as a whole. He seems to wilt slightly at the dismissal but bounces back quickly enough, thank God. She doesn’t want to upset him. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
“Yeah, and you,” Mike, a puppyish blonde, responds eagerly. “Don’t worry, I've done the whole new kid thing here too. It’s awful isn’t it?”
Alice laughs. “I wouldn’t say that. All the staring is a bit much though,” she adds as an afterthought.
Mike nods sagely. “Yeah, people here can be like that. They’re not used to having fresh new faces to look at.”
“Like you haven’t been just as bad as everyone else,” Lauren scoffs, flicking a curtain of silvery blonde hair over one shoulder. “Not that I understand why,” she gives Alice a disdainful once over, “there isn’t much to look at.”
Alice blinks, more than a little startled by the sudden vitriol.
“Lauren!” Mike and Eric hiss out in tandem, before she even has the chance to respond. Even Jessica looks a little scandalised, and the girl doesn’t strike Alice as the type to get hung up on petty comments. At least not when they weren’t directed at her.
“What?” The blonde snaps. “Just because you’re all up her ass doesn’t me I have to be.”
“Oh my God, Laur, there’s a difference--"
“Sorry about her,” a quiet voice murmurs, and Alice looks over to see a pretty, dark haired girl staring at her with apologetic eyes. Angela, she remembers. “She’s probably just jealous that she isn’t the centre of attention right now, that’s all.”
“Oh, no, it’s alright,” Alice is quick to reassure. “Just wasn’t expecting that is all.”
“She can be a bit...” Angela jerks her head towards the other girl, “much. She means well though. Mostly.”
Alice laughs, repeating again that it’s fine. The bickering across the table seems to simmer down a little at the sound, and suddenly all eyes are on her again. Lauren scoffs but doesn’t try to continue the argument. Conversation flows a bit more freely after that, though Alice notices that Lauren refuses to say a single word to her. She tries not to let it bother her.
Things are going quite well on the whole, actually. She's actually made the mistake of letting herself start to relax before things take a turn.
Mike is in the middle of recounting a – clearly exaggerated – story about an attempted theft at his family's store when it happens. The door on the far side of the cafeteria swings open, and in walks a group of the most beautiful people Alice has ever seen.
There’s five of them in total – three boys and two girls. They look alike in that they all look perfect, but beyond that she’s hard pressed to pick out a single consistent feature between them. There isn’t one shared jawline among them, no two sporting the exact same colouring. So different and yet so similar.
Of the boys, one is tall, bulky, with close cropped dark curls and a cheerful face. Another is a head or two shorter with a far leaner build, his honey blonde hair shining under the artificial lights of the cafeteria. There is an obvious stiffness to the line of his shoulders, even as he moves across the room with enviable grace. The last looks to be the youngest, shorter than the others and built more lankily, with a shock of bronze hair sprouting from his skull.
The first of the two girls is statuesque, a blonde bombshell in every sense of the word. She’s undeniably gorgeous, walking with a confidence that is both obvious and obviously deserved. That’s not to say that the other girl isn’t beautiful, of course, just differently so. There’s something softer about her dark curls and comparatively understated presence. More attainable. It’s the difference between a movie star and the pretty girl who lives down the street.
They make their way across the room in silence, seemingly oblivious to the eyes following them in a way that Alice truly envies. As they pass she makes sure to get a closer look at them; the chalky paleness of their skin, the dark shadows under their eyes, the eerie perfection of their features. It’s... familiar. She’s seen it before, she knows she has. Some kind of base instinct deep within her is set off by it, a bone deep primal terror flaring through her system without warning or consent. Her hands ball up unwillingly into tight fists.
The blonde boy whips his head around to face her, amber eyes locking suddenly with her own. Alice stops breathing. An unbearable tension sweeps through her body, freezing her stiff. She holds his gaze, unmoving. There’s something wrong with the picture he makes though, not quite what she was expecting. It’s the eyes, something about the eyes is off, she thinks—
There’s no time to dwell on that though, because the second she gets a good look at his face the world stops. She knows that face. The full lips, the sculpted jaw, the severe brow, she knows it. The same way she knew her name or the alphabet or that the capital of Turkey is Ankara. A pure, instinctive kind of knowledge that has stuck with her through trauma and memory loss and God knows what else. Her jaw drops a little, entirely without her consent.
Vaguely, she realises that she’s shaking, just a bit, a heady mix of fear, familiarity and adrenaline clouding her bloodstream.
The boy's brow furrows, the slightest of frowns tugging at his lips. It makes her heart stutter in her chest. Alice lets out a slow, steadying breath – and feels the tension start to leave her body, slowly and then all at once. The blonde finally breaks the eye contact, reaching out to tap the bronze haired boy on the shoulder. Alice snaps back into reality, forcing the unwelcome thoughts to the back of her mind as she finally remembers how to breathe correctly. She returns her attention to her own table to find everyone staring at her, more than a little wide eyed. Oh, God.
“What the hell was that?” Jessica demands.
“I have no idea,” Alice says with complete honesty, relieved when her voice only wavers a little.
“You know who that was right?” The brunette persists, eyes insistent. Not even Lauren tries to protest the sudden Alice-centric shift of the conversation.
“No,” she says, already knowing that it’s the wrong answer. What else is she supposed to do though? Lie?
Jessica looks as scandalised as she'd expected, though her delight at being the one who gets to share the gossip quickly takes precedence. “That,” she says conspiratorially, voice low, “was Jasper Cullen. The others are Edward and Rosalie Cullen and Emmett and Bella McCarthy. They all live just out of town with Dr. Cullen and his wife.”
The Cullens. Hearing the name makes something click in her head. “Oh,” she says in sudden understanding, “the ones who moved here from Alaska a few years back, right? I hadn’t seen any of them in person before.” Alice angles another surreptitious look at their newly occupied table, watching as they sit, silent and blank faced, amidst the chaos of the lunch room. It calls to mind all the rumours she’s heard over the past year – cults and incest and blood sacrifices. She'd thought they were ridiculous at the time. Now she’s not so sure.
“They’re gorgeous right?” Jessica asks, giggling slightly.
“Yeah,” Alice agrees, because there’s really no denying it, even if she does still feel that rabbitish undercurrent of fear whenever she looks at one of them for too long. She averts her eyes. The feeling is more muted now, less blindingly intense than before. She’s grateful for it. It makes it easier to think. “Which ones are which?” She asks, desperate to keep her mind moving, distracted from the creeping sense of ice dripping down her spine. “None of them look related...”
“Oh, they’re not, apart from Emmett and Bella that is. That’s the big one and the girl with the dark hair, the foster kids. I think they’re Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew or something. The rest are adopted.” She shrugs. “Their parents are, like, super young. Early thirties at the oldest.”
Alice blinks. “That’s nice of them,” she says, a little uncertain, “to take in all those kids despite being so young themselves...” Unbidden, her thoughts are drawn back to Charlie and his gruff but easy kindness. She feels herself soften slightly towards the Cullens despite herself.
“Yeah, I guess,” Jessica shrugs in clear dismissal. “But I think it’s because Mrs. Cullen can’t have kids or something like that.”
Alice hums noncommittally in response. She doesn’t like the tone, or the implication that being infertile would in some way lessen the Cullens’ kindness. Learning that Charlie had only taken her in because he couldn’t have children of his own wouldn’t make her any less grateful to him, and she’s sure those kids feel the same. Something gives her the impression that saying so wouldn’t go down very well though. And well... she’s not entirely certain it’s true. Her eyes flit over the Cullens again, quickly diverting when she sees the youngest boy shoot a glance in their direction. There’s something off there that she can’t quite put words to. Her moment of inexplicable terror flashes quickly through her mind.
Jessica doesn’t seem satisfied by her silence. “That’s not the really scandalous thing though,” she leans in close as if about to impart some great secret. “They’re all together. Like together-together. Edward and Bella and Rosalie and Emmett I mean.” She flicks an obvious glance over at them, mouth tightening at something she sees. “It’s super weird.”
Well, one of the rumours is apparently true then. Alice wonders what that says about the others. She isn’t really sure she wants to find out.
“Oh, give it a rest, Jessie,” Tyler calls from across the table, rolling his eyes. “Can we not talk about something else for once?”
Jessica scowls. “Don’t call me that.”
Tyler grins. “Why not? You gonna stop me?”
Alice stifles a smile of her own, watching as Jessica puffs herself up like she’s about to start swinging. Then she feels a light tap on her shoulder and looks up to see Angela standing behind her, smiling kindly. “I was gonna head off to Biology early, if you want to join,” she explains at Alice’s curious look.
Alice shoots a quick glance back at the rest of the table, where Tyler and Jessica's argument seems to be starting to heat up. “Yeah, sounds good,” she agrees. Angela laughs softly.
***
The walk to Biology is pleasant enough. Angela is a sweet girl, soft spoken and more than willing to let Alice ramble freely. It’s the first opportunity she’s had to do so all day, and frankly she needs it. She talks about anything and everything – her classes, which teachers she’s had so far, some of the people she’s met. It’s good for her. It brings her back down from the emotional high that was lunch and her almost-not-quite break down.
Now that she’s actually removed from the situation, away from the distraction of the cafeteria, Alice can feel the nerves starting to bubble up under her skin again. She keeps glancing around, half expecting one of the Cullens to appear out of nowhere and... attack her, or something. Which is ridiculous. She knows that, of course she does, but the fear is still there. She tries to force it back like she had earlier, letting out another deep, steadying breath. It isn’t as effective as she'd like.
“Are you alright, Alice?”
“Fine,” she chirps, summoning another beaming smile. Angela looks like she isn’t quite sure she believes her. She doesn’t comment though, which is all that really matters.
When they reach the classroom they separate, Angela making her way to her seat at the back of the class while Alice takes up a post at the front of the room, waiting for the teacher to arrive. He seems to recognise her instantly when he does, waving her over to assign her seat and deal with her paperwork.
By the time she turns back to face the class proper most of the other students have already arrived. Including—oh. Edward Cullen. Her lab partner, apparently. That’s... well, it sure is a thing. Steeling herself, she makes her way over and slides into the seat next to him, avoiding eye contact.
She takes a moment to organise her things, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable. Gooseflesh raises on her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. It takes an embarrassingly long time to work up the guts to even look at the guy, fiddling with her notebook and pens for a good minute or two before she finally gives up the ghost. Then, with a calming breath, she straightens her spine and turns to face him head on. She expects the same sickening sense of deja vu that had struck her when she made eye contact with his brother, a dizzying sort of recollection. That’s not what she gets though. She meets the dark, curious eyes of Edward Cullen, and then – someone takes a hammer to her skull.
Edward leaps up and out of his seat, lunging for her throat—
Except, no, he doesn’t, he gives her a polite smile a turns to face the teacher—
She feels teeth, ripping and tearing and grinding—
The lecture starts and they ignore each other. There’s no partner work necessary and besides, Alice really needs to focus—
He slams her head into the desk, teeth still latched viciously to her jugular. Once, twice, three times. She cries out in pain. The screaming finally starts, somewhere in the background—
Mr. Banner goes on and on about cellular anatomy, and try as she might she just can’t get it. It frustrates her. Especially since Edward’s own understanding is so clearly effortless. Perks of having a doctor for a father, she thinks bitterly—
There’s a sickening gurgling sound, and it takes a long, terrible moment for her to realise that it’s coming from her. It feels like her body is being burned away from the inside out. Her blood screams in her veins even as she chokes on it—
Class ends and they exchange a polite nod. Edward leaves while Alice waits for Mike and Angela at the door—
She snaps back to reality. A loud gasp escapes her throat as she rocks back in her chair, hands grasping desperately at the underside. Squeezing her eyes closed, she begins to count backwards from one hundred in her head, trying to soothe her breathing. Which one is real, her mind wonders frantically, which one? But there’s no time to think about that, her mind quickly subsumed by the sense of oh, God no, it happened again. It was supposed to have stopped, fuck. She doesn’t need this right now, she doesn’t.
A quiet noise sounds to her left and her eyes snap open, head jerking to the side. Edward Cullen stares back at her with wide, horrified eyes. Alice’s breath catches in her throat.
He knows, some irrational part of her brain insists, he knows. Alice forces it back. That’s ridiculous, of course it is. But then why is he looking at me like—
The sound of Mr. Banner's voice startles her, making her jump again. She spins around to face the front of the room, shaking her head aggressively. She’ll... she'll deal with all that later. This isn’t the time or the place. Another long, shuddering breath escapes her. Her hands tremble.
She hears Edward turn in his own seat but doesn’t bother to look over, keeping her eyes fixed resolutely forward. The lecture goes in one ear out the other, her brain all but fried to mush. She doesn’t even try to take notes, even though she knows she’ll need them later. The whole time, she keeps as much space between herself and Edward as possible. Whenever he moves a little too quickly in her periphery her heart starts hammer in her chest, breath quickening.
They don’t speak.