(Y/N)'s POV
Coats of paint dried onto the walls as slowly as the sun rises and sets. Blue painter's tape sealed the tarp to the floor to catch the paint's splatter. Collapsed cardboard boxes sat in a disorganized pile as we went through the contents over the week.
It could be easy to say that our house is far from clean, but it's close to done. Paint buckets sealed on the floor left to be found by feet in the dark. Almost countless numbers of outfits got their fair share of paint.
Rachel had started to order furniture for the house. She reminded me over and over that this was a fresh start, but I didn't realize that almost all of our old furniture had to go. It starts with the living room.
Countless hours have been spent sitting next to her as she went through magazines. Pages got their corners folded to find later on. Some items got their reticule for being "overpriced" for something that looked so "cheap."
Rachel opened the door to my room. Her head came into view in the crack in the door before anything else. "Hey, (Y/N)? You up?"
I drowsily opened my eyes and turned my head to look at her. "Yeah, mom?" My head slowly came off the pillow in my half-awake daze to respond to her.
"Furniture is going to slowly start trickling in today. Today, we have the living room stuff coming in. We'll get the couch, two recliners, and the coffee table. Get up!" She rambled off the list as I tried to shake off the sleepiness.
She talked like a dad trying to get his whole family ready for a trip that he's impatient to get to. I got onto my feet on the cool hardwood floor.
"Okay," I mumbled and followed behind them down the steps.
"I called Esme to bring the Cullens to help us with the living room," Rachel told me over her shoulder.
"Esme? Who's Esme?" I furrowed my brows, rubbing my sleepiness out of my eyes.
"Oh, that's right. You probably never met her specifically. She's the mom of the Cullens you go to school with. You know, you made cookies for her and her whole family. She wanted to return the favor." She said nonchalantly.
"Oh, okay. So we're allowing people we hardly know into the house?" My mind slowly pieced this not-practical proposition.
"You didn't have a bad dream about them, did you?" Rachel eyed me for a moment like she didn't see the dangers of letting people we hardly know into the house.
"No, I did not." I sighed; I didn't need to have a dream to tell me that I was going to lose this argument. When she comes up with an idea, it's hard to shake her off of it, like it's set in stone for her.
"That's good to hear. So they should be coming in about an hour or an hour and a half. We should get the living room cleaned up to make this nice and smooth!" She clapped her hands together as if to spring me into action.
The cardboard got picked up off the ground to be in a bin for recycling. Tape and a tarp had been put down to paint the room.
"(Y/N), I think that's them at the door. Go answer it for me." Rachel ordered me after she heard the doorbell ring. They slowly lined the tape with the wall and floor.
"Okay, Mom," I pushed the cardboard into the overflowing bin before heading toward the door. My heart raced with slight fear.
When you have dreams like this, the moments that you don't see or aren't routine can be frightening. Multiple strangers in my home can be a gateway of many possibilities. Their intentions are only known up to a percent.
They shouldn't be here for too long. So, with a deep breath, I opened the front door like I had a mission. They crowded the porch in front of me.
Mrs. Cullen and Dr. Cullen were in the front as the rest stayed behind them, a step or two away. The two parents gave me a friendly smile like you would see in an advertisement for a vacation rental fit for a family.
"Hello, I'm glad you came." I mustered a small smile and nodded before letting them in.
"Thank you for letting us in to help. We're glad to return the favor." Esme came into the house first, followed by the rest like ducks.
"You're welcome," I slowly approached Rachel to stand beside her.
Everyone slowly got their tasks to do in setting up the living room. The Cullens helped with arranging the new furniture. Esme stood by Rachel's side, helping her decide where to put the furniture with occasional input from me. I painted the walls a burgundy color.
The paint slowly hid the creme-colored walls underneath in slow, smooth strokes. My attention centered on the task at hand, making the Cullen's talking be muffled chatter. Drips from the paintbrush landed on the tarp below like drizzles of rain.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a pale hand grab a paint roller. My eyes trailed up the hand to see his pale face. Edward Cullen, the Edward Cullen, is painting with me. I didn't expect him to abandon his task of helping Rachel to help me instead.
My eyes widened briefly as I watched him roll the roller along the wall. But I shook my head and got back to painting, too.
"I'm Edward, you're (Y/N)." Edward awkwardly added to the silence we shared.
"Yeah, I know who you are. Um, thank you...for coming over to help me paint. It would have taken hours." I furrowed my brows as I glided the brush along the wall.
"Not a problem," He sighed and kept working with a nod.
When I glanced over my shoulder, I sighed, too. Rachel had noticed us working together; she smiled at me like we were kindergarteners learning to share toys properly. She even gave me a thumbs-up.
"Do you like this color? Were you the one that picked it?" Edward drew me back to the conversation. To me, the conversation was on its last legs, but I gave him the dialogue he wanted from me.
"It's an alright color. Rachel picked it, burgundy." I dipped my brush into the paint can.
"Is Rachel your aunt? Who is she to you?" He poured the paint into a tray for his roller.
"They're my parent. They adopted me a long time ago." I sighed.
"Oh...did something happen to your biological parents?" Edward glanced at me for a brief moment.
"You know, I don't really want to get into that right now. Can we talk about something else?" I remembered all to well what happened with my parents, and I didn't want to talk about. Despite that it has been years, it felt like a fresh wound in my heart.
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Predictive Dreaming
FanficTwilight is not mine. This is a remake of an old story of mine, Various Yandere Twilight x Reader. You and your mom, Rachel, move to Forks because the suspension has been rising in your old town. You have had a strange gift since you were born. You...
