Stop, Drop and Roll by Bronzehairedgirl620 .pdf

Stop, Drop and Roll by Bronzehairedgirl620

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4413802/1/

Prologue

I always imagined I would become a doctor when I grew up. An astronaut. A

lawyer. Someone who could change lives and alter the world more drastically

than one could deem possible. A dreamer. I'd followed this path as far as it would

take me; I studied Political Science, received the degrees, put forth the effort. I

set up my life in accordance to society's standards, and at the time, I'd seen

nothing wrong with that.

But life came at you in unexpected ways. Always unanticipated, hardly ever able

to be prepared for, and the outcome was typically never what you hoped for. You

were then stuck in the midst of the cataclysmic aftermath, trying to make the

broken pieces fit again. Edges blurred. People changed. In many cases, it only

caused further problems. Some endured it, others hid. I'd tried the latter for as

long as I could before I could take it no longer. It was either become a hermit, or

a masochist. Neither seemed appealing, but one far more necessary than the

other.

Which was how I ended up in the dreary parking lot of the Portland, Oregon Fire

Station, No. 6, the bane of my existence and the center of my goals, a dichotomy

I didn't much care for.

As many curses as I could think of in as many different languages I knew rolled

off my tongue languidly as I stepped onto the cold, rain-slick asphalt. The car

door echoed behind me as it locked shut, although I don't remember pushing it

shut, and something unseen was able to force my legs to take the necessary

steps forward. Rain pelted me, evidence of a less than cheery autumn day in

Portland, and I quickened my pace, afraid that if I allowed myself to think over

what I was about to do, I would lose the courage I'd spent years summoning.

It was like walking into a nightmare. The eye of the hurricane. My hands shook

violently, palms sweaty and stomach churning as I entered through the door.

Everything was silent, aside from my erratic pants of breath. The glossy red finish

of a row of fire trucks flashed against the glassy reflection on the floor, and I

cringed. I couldn't do this.

"Edward." The voice was overly calm, superior and collected, reverberating from

the top of a stairwell feet away. I tilted my head away, eyes blinking as I saw the

chief bound down each step cautiously. He extended a hand as he reached my

level, his visage exuding nothing but confidence in my abilities and excitement at

my commitment. "Welcome to the Portland Fire Department, son," he greeted.

The term of endearment made me want to bolt right back out the door and throw

my car off the bypass. His grip was too tight as he shook my hand, his elbow

cranking up and down too enthusiastically, and when he finally relented, I

dropped my hand at my side like a lifeless rag doll. If the chief noticed, he didn't

say anything. Maybe this level of nervousness was common. He gestured toward

me, and the two of us wordlessly ascended back up the stairs from which he'd

arrived.

"You should feel right at home here, son." Again, that term which triggered at my

gag reflexes. I forced a plastic smile on my face, the one I'd perfected time and

time again, nodding at the correct moments as he went through a rehearsed

spiel. The words flew right past me, hitting the bottom of the abyss and lost

forever as I let my eyes wander, covering every inch of the interior of the station.

Being back here brought forth memories, the number too large for me to smell of

smoke embedded into the couch cushions and the curtains hanging from the wall

triggered the screams to start in my mind, high-pitched and unintelligible. I could

taste the salty tears and see the horrified expressions as the onlookers gazed at

the burning house, flames licking at the sky mercilessly. Ash clouded my lungs,

blocking my breathing, but the view was taken away from me as I was pushed

back onto a gurney, oxygen strapped to my face and soothing words being

whispered into my ear.

"It'll be okay."

I swallowed a bitter chuckle as the chief continued to point out various amenities,

not aware of my lack of attentiveness. He finally left with one parting comment,

something about welcoming me into the 'family,' but I was too preoccupied to ask

him to repeat himself. I stood alone in the vestibule, wondering what could've

possibly tempted me to repeat the night that'd ruined my life over, and over, and

over again.

Chapter One

I had a love-hate relationship with the city.

It was bustling with activity, which most people from small towns such as I was

would find exciting. Normal people would love the constant thrill that

accompanied a big city. Portland had the water, the nightlife, the job

opportunities. To most, it had it all. Forks came at the bottom of the food chain;

with a population smaller than most local high schools and no real night life,

moving to one of the larger cities on the West Coast seemed like a dream at the

time.

Typically, I was one of the people who thrived within the lively community. But

when bumper-to-bumper traffic began a prevalent part of the equation, it made

me often ponder why I had chosen to move from the quaint logging town of Forks

to the five lanes of congested highway with no room to move, willingly or

otherwise. My foot seemed to remain glued to the brake pedal as I rode it all the

way to wherever it was I was trying to get to, nerves shredded and frustration

ablaze.

Today was one of those days.

Already twenty five minutes late, the scowl I wore was deeply embedded as I

yanked the sticking door open with more force than necessary. Mirroring my

melancholic mood, the rain was pouring down in sheets - the irony hadn't

escaped me. I could already hear the lecture I would get from Alice, both about

my late arrival and the water I would be dripping all over our supposedly lovely

lunch. She didn't condone lateness, and didn't allow exceptions.

I could've predicted everything about what was to transact next, right down to

the expression she'd wear. As past experience dictated, she was sitting in the

table we always chose. Her vanilla latte steamed in front of her, untouched, and

there was a pile of photography negatives sitting in a folder beside a half-eaten

sandwich. This all I had expected. What was different about today, as it had been

for the past few weeks, was with what she chose to occupy her time. Instead of

training her eagle gaze on the door awaiting my arrival, she was looking in the

opposite direction. She no longer looked upset about my absence, but awed at

something better.

The legs of the chair scraped against the floor. In a wet heap, I slumped down

and rested my head against the wall, willing the impending headache to magically

disappear before it continued to ruin my afternoon.

"Look what the cat dragged in," she said distastefully, brushing away some of the

water droplets that had made their way from my soaked jacket to the smooth

wood. "What, did you get lost or something?"

"Please don't," I pleaded. "I don't want to get into it."

Understanding coated her features, though she still appeared agitated that I was

not exactly on schedule. "Rough day?"

I choked back the scoff that would undoubtedly earn me another lecture on

manners. She was like my mother, only more mature. "You could say that."

In an attempt to salvage the luncheon, I shrugged out of my relatively useless

jacket. A crumple of water-touched bills in hand, I used the last bit of energy I

possessed to stand up. "I'm going to order something," I announced rather

pointlessly. "Do you need anything else?"

As if remembering she'd ordered the coffee in the first place, she wrapped her

lithe fingers around the mug and took a deep sip. "Nope," she responded

smoothly, but merely stood back up and gently pushed me into my seat. "Here,

I'll get it for you. You look exhausted. Don't worry, I'll fill the good friend role."

I raised an eyebrow, both bemused by her willingness to help out and her quick

reaction, but didn't protest. Without another word, she snatched the money from

my hand and danced toward the counter. With a coy smile and her typical overly

displayed flirtatious disposition, she caught the attention of the barista on duty.

Her stalkerish qualities fully intact, she'd learned that he works three hours on

weekdays, was a student at PSU, had the most attractive southern accent she'd

ever heard, and was named Jasper. This was a fact she quite enjoyed; even his

name strayed from the conventional guys she usually went for.

Yes, Alice was smitten with him. No, she did not hide it. Discreet was not her

middle name.

He must've made what Alice deemed a witty, worthy comment, as I could hear

her laugh from across the cafe. She tossed him a smile, he handed her my

change, and that was that. Even from meters away, I could tell she had him

hook, line and sinker. The poor boy didn't stand a chance.

Figuring it would be a while until I received my order, I wiped off the remaining

water from my bag and rifled around for my notebook. Opening it would only

depress me further, but I decided I really couldn't ruin this day any more. I might

as well look at the pages of wasted paper that contained years of story ideas that

had never made it past the outlining stage. Maybe my problem was that they

always ended up being love stories. No matter how hard I tried to introduce a

heavy dose of angst, or a mystery rivaling Stephen King, it always led to a

romance. I didn't understand how I managed to corrupt myself so fully every

single time.

Glancing over the list, I felt a pang of longing; a need to understand the

unknown. Love came in many different forms, yet it seemed so concrete. So

fundamentally simple that even the most elementary person could interpret its

inner workings. Yet whenever I sat down to dissect it and figure out how to

translate the meaning into words, it came out muddled, overly complicated and

garbled with cliched plots and unjustifiable characters. It almost always ended in

the waste basket. I don't know why I masochistically decided to take a look at it,

but the concept drew me in every time. I tightened my grip on the edges of the

ripping paper and groaned.

Alice returned sooner than I gave her credit for, though the cheery demeanor she

displayed with Jasper did not remain for long. She practically threw the mug filled

with scalding hot chocolate at me, her mood somewhere between frustrated and

giddy - a combination only Alice could conjure.

Hot liquid sloshed over the lip of the cup and onto the notebook I'd haphazardly

discarded after realizing there was nothing useful within it. With narrow eyes, I

reached for the one napkin Alice had picked up on her way back, though why

she'd only grabbed one, I didn't know. She knew of my inherent ability to spill

anything around me. But when I reached for said napkin, she swatted my hand

away as if I possessed the black plague.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, reaching for it again, but for the second time

she pushed me away.

"Don't even think about it," she warned. After promising her that I wouldn't use

her precious napkin on my precarious spill, she finally handed it over. I examined

it carefully, wondering if this were one of her irrational obsessions like knitting

had been, but then I noticed the ten digits printed in dark blue.

"Sneaky," I said, handing it back to her. "How'd you manage to swing that?"

"I was so graciously ordering your drink when we started talking about our

photography class," she replied. Ah, yes. I'd forgotten they were in the same

photography class. "We have a group project due, and I didn't have a partner

yet."

"So naturally, he offered," I jabbed, though I was proud of her. It usually didn't

take her weeks to reel someone she liked in, but she appeared to be taking her

time with this one.

"We exchanged numbers, and he said he'd call me soon to discuss plans," she

stuck her tongue out. "Be happy for me, B. This is a big deal."

I grinned as I lifted the mug to my lips. "You know I am." I couldn't help but feel

a semblance of jealousy, but that was soon overpowered as soon as I noticed the

look of pure joy written across her face. She'd been my best friend for years, and

while I'd seen that look before, something was different about this. "I only hope

Jasper knows what he's getting into," I finished with a wink, lightening the

discussion once more.

The conversation turned to other topics, and half an hour later, I reluctantly

excused myself. I claimed I had a paper to write and work that needed to be

done, which, in hindsight, was true. She arched an eyebrow at my pardoning but

allowed me to give her one last hug, exclaim a statement of congratulations, and

tell her I'd see her at home once I got back from the library. Taking as many side

streets as I could to avoid the rush hour traffic, I soon arrived at the older

building and pushed all thoughts of Alice's impending romances out of my mind in

order to focus.

After several hours crammed in a small cubicle, I found I'd been moderately

productive and finished what I came there to do. I powered down my laptop and

put away the rest of my belongings, already looking forward to a night's sleep.

My muscles were stiff from the constant typing I'd done and my eyes drooped

with exhaustion, but the thought of a warm, comfortable bed at home was the

motivation I needed to drive home.

In true Pacific Northwestern form, the rain had started up again as soon as I

exited the building. I gripped the rail as I stepped down the slick walk and in a

desperate attempt to stay dry, my bag ended up above my head, a movement

that only succeeded in making me look ridiculous. I was still soaked. My truck's

stability, while moments from falling into a thousand pieces, during bad weather

was unparalleled. This was a fact I was immensely grateful for as thunder and

lightning crackled overhead, hail beginning to pelt the indestructible metal.

Silver streaks colored the sky, marring the otherwise dark canvas. I jumped; I

wasn't cool enough to admit that I had overcome my pathological fear of

thunderstorms. I willed my truck to move faster than the rain and out of the

onslaught, but it was content on taking its sweet time. The wipers moved as

quickly as they could, but it was still not fast enough to clear my line of vision. I

cursed under my breath.

The lightning appeared to be following me as I neared the apartment I shared

with Alice, the thunder following mere seconds after it shocked the sky. I parked

the truck awkwardly at the curb, uncaring of how close I was to a mailbox or a

fire hydrant at this point, and ran inside to shield myself from the intensity of the

wind. As I moved to open the door, I watched one of the old pine trees quiver

precariously, tipping toward the building. This storm was worse than they

typically were.

Once inside the apartment, I dropped my things on the counter and made a

beeline for the quaint kitchen. The answering machine contained two messages;

one from my mother asking why I hadn't called her lately and another from

Alice's brother, Emmett, inviting us for dinner next week. A graduate of PSU as

well, he chose to become a fireman and stayed in Portland with his girlfriend,

Rosalie. Cold at first, we'd grown to become friends with the woman, who we no

longer had qualms with, much to our luck. Rosalie could be downright terrifying if

you were on her bad side.

Alice was uncharacteristically silent, I soon noticed. But after seeing a box of

leftover pizza with a crumpled note beside it, I assumed it was because she was

not here. I placed a slice of the cold cheese on a plate and briefly looked over her

cramped handwriting, uninterested. It wasn't unlike Alice to go out. She, unlike

myself, had a life.

Bella-

I had to run out and get stuff for a project due tomorrow - put the pizza in the

fridge when you're done. Be back later.

Indifferent to actually eating, I chewed three bites of the pizza before discarding

it in the trash can and putting the rest in the refrigerator as Alice requested. I

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: