Volition.pdf

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5115662/1/

I smelled the rain before I saw it. The clouds came in swiftly then, and I watched

as their shadows rolled silently across the footpath. I swung my umbrella at my

side unopened, not bothering to pick up the pace because I was nearly home.

Besides, rain in Northern Ireland is the rule, not the exception.

I unlocked the door to my parent's row house as a chilly drizzle drifted down and

closed the door behind me, letting my bag fall to the floor with an unceremonious

thump. Homework would have to wait; right then I needed to make sure Emmett

was alright. And then I'd really lay into him.

"Em?" I called, stepping further down the dim hall, past the empty coat rack and

hung pictures that needed dusting. The house was too still – apparently I was the

first one home. I opened the drapes in the sitting room to let in a little light and

consulted the watch hanging loosely on my wrist. Mum had likely gone to get

something from the market for supper and Da usually didn't come home til five or

six, half toasty from a pint or two (or three) at Flanagan's corner pub. I sighed,

exhausted from a day of classes and frantic over-thinking. In all honesty that was

probably where Emmett was as well– at the pub. Looks like I'll be waiting for my

answers, then.

In the kitchen, I started the kettle for tea and, out of habit, leaned against the

counter to start homework. I was nearly done with my literature assignment

when I heard the front door open.

"Isabella Marie! What're your boots doing right in the way?" I heard Mum kicking

said offending articles aside as she made her way down the hall.

The tea kettle began whistling and I slid over to remove it from the heat. "Sorry,

Mum."

She walked in, an affectionate smile betraying her. "How were your classes?"

I dropped a kiss on her cheek before moving past her to retrieve two cups from

the cupboard. "Dull."

"Bella…" she shook her head and began unloading her shopping bags.

I shrugged indifferently. "Are you having tea?"

"Please, love. Thank you."

Mum knew when not to push. I was one month from finishing my second year at

Queen's University and I was already feeling both stifled and burnt out. I was

smart enough to have been able to leave home to attend secondary school

elsewhere but housing would have been too expensive. Even with living at home

and working part time I'd have to wait at least one more year before leaving

Belfast.

I poured us each a cup of tea, and we sat at the small table in the corner of our

kitchen. This was something we had done for as long as I could remember, from

way back when we were small and Mum would walk Emmett and me home from

school. Back then she'd made scones all the time and they'd often be waiting on

the table for us, warm from the oven, the kitchen fragrant and inviting.

"Have you seen Emmett today?" I asked casually, studying the steam as it rose

from the cup.

Mum shook her head. "Not since he left this morning. Why?"

"No reason," I lied. I couldn't very well tell her what I'd found beneath my bed

that morning when I'd looked to find an earring that had slipped from my grasp.

I'd been on my hands and knees, holding my breath so as not to breathe in dust,

when I'd spied the brown paper bag. I had pulled it out and opened it, sure it

wasn't something I'd placed there… and I was right. It was a gun – what kind, I

had no idea. Before that very moment, I had never even seen one.

But I knew who it belonged to, and it brought to the forefront of my mind

suspicions I'd pushed away for months. I could have continued to ignore the

subtle looks and defiant body language between the young men in the

neighborhood, the whispered rumors and fierce expressions when news of

political setbacks or police brutality surfaced. I'd have gladly stayed away from it,

but this…this was tangible and real and cold and it had found its way from outside

in.

Mum watched me carefully as I drifted back to the present.

I couldn't very well talk of things I supposedly knew nothing about, so I drained

the last of my tea and stood. I gathered my books in my arms, and gently

pushed my chair back into its place with my hip.

"I'll be in my room."

Twilight faded into evening as I stood at my window, combing absently through

my hair. It was too long, and I'd been considering cutting it so it wouldn't sway to

my hips as it had since childhood. I peered through the droplets of rain on the

glass and onto the street below, worried that my brother hadn't come home yet. I

imagined him off somewhere, strategizing and planning, not knowing I knew of

the contraband he'd hidden in my room.

Just then I heard the distant slam of the front door followed by heavy footsteps

on our wooden staircase. I sat on the edge of my bed, slowly winding my hair

into a loose braid.

"You have explaining to do, "I said dryly when my bedroom door opened.

But the voice that answered was not the one I had been expecting.

"I do?"

I looked up in surprise. Edward Cullen, my brother's closest friend since primary

school, stood in the doorway with a bemused expression on his face. He stepped

inside and shut the door behind him, eyebrows raised as if he was the one

deserving of an explanation.

I frowned. "Where's Em?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, its usual ruddy bronze darkened from the

rain. "Hello to you too, Bella."

I ignored the violent flutter in my belly that came about whenever Edward was

anywhere near me. I'd had eyes for him since I'd started noticing boys, but I

knew to him I was simply Emmett's little sister. I had plenty of practice

pretending it didn't ruin me inside every time I saw him with other girls (and

there were many). Just last week it had been Victoria from two doors down…

"Sorry Edward, hi. I just…wondered where Emmett was. I haven't seen him all

day and I really need to speak to him."

He nodded, leaning against the door. "He'll be home soon."

I watched Edward carefully, wondering why he was in my room. Did he know

something? Did he know of Emmett's gun? I had a gut feeling he did.

"I just left him." Edward added, as if that would allay my curiosity. He walked

over to my window and gazed out, much as I had done moments before.

For the better part of a year Emmett and Edward had grown more and more

furtive about their whereabouts. I knew Mum was concerned with the types of

activities they most probably were involved in, but like me she seemed to choose

to live in ignorance. Da, however, seemed to encourage it. Like Edward's father,

he had always been a strong supporter of Sinn Fein's protests and marches.

Our families had long standing affiliations with the Nationalist party, who was

determined to break Ireland free of any British rule, but even the party had

differing opinions within itself. The main difference I could discern was where

Sinn Fein remained above the warfare of the streets, the Irish Republican Army

(and most specifically, the Provisional IRA) had seen to it that there was no

better way than to fight back violently.

It wasn't difficult to understand where things had changed for my brother and his

friends. They had picketed with fellow students and participated in Queen's

University sit-in during October '68. That same year they had been among those

attacked by Unionist police at what was supposed to be a peaceful march in

Derry. Plainly put, Emmett and Edward were tired of talking and diplomacy. They

were young, and idealistic, and full of vitriol.

All of this was, of course, my own speculation. Much as I tried to keep myself

immersed in my studies and my social life, it was difficult to live in a bubble when

the world around me was in a chaotic state of flux. I saw the tight clusters of men

in the neighborhood; I heard the harsh whispers when Emmett received phone

calls late at night. It terrified me because he and Edward could be arrested if they

were caught, or worse, killed. I wasn't sure I could handle knowing that they

were involved with any of the bombings so prevalent in the newspapers and on

the evening news.

My stomach clenched painfully, the giddiness and butterflies now successfully

squeezed out.

"…so I'll just wait here until he gets back," Edward was saying. He turned to look

at me and I blinked, realizing he'd been speaking while I was lost in thought. His

eyes narrowed and he nodded toward me.

"What's with you?"

I licked my lips nervously and without another thought slipped off the bed and

down to my hands and knees for the second time that day. I wrenched the brown

paper bag out and as I straightened up I saw from Edward's expression he

already knew. My heart sank.

"What's this?" I griped, standing and tossing the bag on my bed.

Edward scowled and crossed the room in two strides. He snatched the bag up and

tucked it under his arm.

"What are you doing with this?" he snapped, coming closer still.

I shrank from his sharp tone and looked away briefly. Even angry, he was terribly

beautiful; it was disconcerting and made it difficult to answer. It didn't help that

he always smelled so bloody appealing either. What was that scent, anyway? I

shook my head.

"I should be asking you and Emmett! This is my room, Edward! The two of you

have real nerve coming and planting that shite underneath my bed. If you want

to do that sort of thing, keep it in his room. Or yours."

Edward glared down at me, unmoved by my breathless tirade. "And what sort of

thing is that?"

I backed away and sat on the bed again, tucking in my legs. "I don't know,

just…"I waved him off, already tired of the discussion. If he wasn't going to say

anything, then neither was I.

I felt the bed shift, and my heart stuttered pathetically. His fingers, cold from

being outside so recently, touched mine. "You won't say anything, then?" He

asked quietly. His voice was smooth, and so close…

I exhaled slowly. "Who would I tell?"

"Alice, "he replied, referring to his younger sister and my confidant.

I picked at the flared, worn hem of my jeans. "I won't. "

We sat side by side and in silence for a few moments, wordlessly accepting this

strange new agreement. If there had been any remaining innocence in our lives,

it had now ebbed completely away. Edward's actions, and the things he didn't

say, verified it for me. Worse yet, I sympathized. None of us were too happy

about the current political climate and the way it trickled down into our every day

state of affairs. People were tired of being punished for being Irish – in Ireland! -

and Catholic.

My bed creaked as Edward leaned forward, placing the bag on the floor in front of

him. Our eyes met as he slowly pushed it back under the bed. He knew I wouldn't

argue anymore. I sensed he knew I'd have done anything for him.

I wasn't sure if I liked that.

I looked away first, feeling antsy by the too-quiet and unexpected intimacy

looming between us. In general, it was hard to tell when Edward was being

genuine and when he was being charming for the sake of it. I'd seen him use his

voodoo on all sorts of girls, from the neighborhood tarts to the doting women at

the market.

I uncrossed my legs and lay back, clenching my eyes shut. Worry over the boy's

illicit activities was making me feel sick and my attraction to Edward only

intensified the discomfort. My stomach was in knots. I prayed Emmett would

hurry up and get home so he could take his stupid gun – and his friend – with

him.

"Bella," Edward coaxed.

I startled, caught off guard by his proximity. Now he was propped on his elbow,

reclining back and facing me.

I eyed him warily. "What?"

His bright, green eyes flicked back and forth between my own, and I allowed

myself to be studied. My heartbeat quickened and I leaned up on my elbow,

mirroring his pose. Finally he tucked a stray lock behind my ear and smirked.

I wrinkled my brow. "What?"

"You like me," he mused.

"Of course I do," I replied carefully, smiling a little.

"No. You love me." He clarified.

I was shocked and so…caught. Sitting up stiffly, I splayed my palms across my

knees, so wracked by nerves that I was nauseated. I did love him, it was true -

and I sincerely wished I didn't. Besides a couple of less than stellar high school

kisses, I had very little experience with the opposite sex. I also didn't feel like

weathering months of torment once my family found out I was hot for the Cullen

boy. I felt a tug at my braid.

"Why exactly are you here?" I huffed, yanking my hair away.

Edward sat up and maneuvered so that his body aligned with mine, closing the

space between us. I felt his fingers, no longer cold, tickle at my chin and when I

looked at him he kissed me right away, a brief brush of lips.

I frowned. "Why-" but he kissed me again, longer, lingering.

It took me a moment to pull myself together after our lips had parted. "Why did

you do that?" I whispered, my heart clamoring inside my ribs.

"Because you wanted me to," he answered, his mouth curling up into a crooked

grin.

I looked down at my hands, twisting nervously in my lap. Was he toying with me

now? Amused by my affections? Mortification started creeping in.

"And because I wanted to," he added, his smile fading as I looked up at him.

I glanced at his mouth, perfect really, wanting so much to feel it on mine again.

He ran the back of his hand down my cheek and then curled his fingers around

the base of my neck, gently pulling me toward him. This time when our mouths

came together I let my lips open. His tongue slid into my mouth and it was warm

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: