So this was it. I was as usual all alone in the world. No one there to hold my hand. No one there who would love me or who I could love.
I, Isabell Marie Swan, 18 years old, just finished todays tasks as a typist at the Gregorias secretary agency located in Port Angeles. The Agency was ok, nothing fancy. My salary was just enough for me to live. No one knew how my situation was. I was keeping the facade by not letting anyone in my life. I didn't want to get friends by pitty.
Heading home in the bus which was about a mile from the office I felt tired. Tired, depressed and so lonely. Probably I could go to Professor Volturi? But on the other hand I was sure he would let me in and have his wicked way with me and then asks me to leave as usual. But still this was at least the only time -the only 5 minutes- I felt beloved in my life. I had no one!
Watching the landscape passing by. This July was too rainy, to grey and to wet. I disliked the coldness but where could I go? With no family, no friends who would support me. Looking around I saw the usual crowd. Mostly men and women in Suits and business outfits, seeming happy to be on the way home. I envied them. I didn't even have a cat to come home to neither a nice home.
Holding the tears back I recognized that I must have been so drawn into my thoughts. The bus was nearly deserted. Only the old couple in the front and two businessmen who were reading some business magazine. I gathered my bag, my umbrella and left the bus at the next station. There I was. Finally at home or what I have called so. Forks. I am living here. In this small nomansland called Forks WA. The Agency I worked was located Port Angeles but my boss was planning to move it to Seattle where we would finally be closer to the clients.
Opening the old wooden door which I should have repainted this year but never did opened with a bit of resistance. "Not again" I let out a harsh hiss. I would need to oil this damn thing before it would get too could. This house was falling apart but was the only place I could effort. I am glad the landlord did let it to me anyway. As a young single women. No relatives to hold in case of unpaid rent. Billy Black was a nice and decent guy. I think he felt pitty for me to let me this house. Before he told my he had planned to tear it down and build a new one but when I pleaded him he aggreed.
I put down my bag and hang my jacket. My usual routine kicked in and I stuffed my second pair of shoes with newspaper, right after I have put some baking powder in it. This was the best way to keep the shoe as long as I could and treating them well meant saving some money. Next thing was my Skirt and blouse. I hang the skirt, the blouse went directly into the sink with some of my mild soap. I took of my stockings and layed them next to the blouse. Taking of my bra I throw my old pajamas on. Ok lets get on with this I needed to finish this as soon as possible. I washed the clothes by hand. Yes, I know it is not the 1800s but still I needed to save the money for the washing saloon and couldn't effort a maschine. This way was cheaper. My adoptive parents were kind to me by taking me in but they were not rich. Rene and Charlie Swan were childless and died both two years ago. Luckily I was smart and got the Highschool degree ealier. Several courses and I was ready to work. My parents could not give me much but tried to give me love. I was thankful to them but still, maybe I deserved it. Maybe I did something that caused this...urgh, me a damaged goods. I shook the thought away.
My hand was shaking, freezing, the water was so cold but it was for free since it was collected rain water. I hang them in the next room to the only one in which a human could live. The others where cold, mouldy and not healthy anymore.
I put some pieces of wood into the small fireplace and soon the fire was flickering filling the room with warm light and peaceful heat. Debussys clair de lune filled the air. When others had the opportunity to enjoy a stereo I only had the radio so I went for the classic channel.
Cooking the noodles and vegetables in small pots on the old but fine oven let me think about my life and where it was heading. Would I ever have a sweetheart? I can not remember having friends how should someone like me have a sweetheart. No I was damaged goods. Men had a sexual interest in me. Yes, definitely but what else would they have when I was damaged, plain... A tear was running down my face. I would be forever alone....
