If you haven't checked out the TLS Angst Contest entries because you just aren't sure which ones you really want to read and don't have time to read all of them... no worries. I've got a teaser from each entry for you and I'll be posting two a day, everyday until public voting opens on August 14th! This way, you can read all of them or just the ones that grab you! There are SO MANY excellent entries in this one contest that I'd hate for you all to miss out on this, so you can find me here, each day... hooking you up with some angsty teasers!
Excerpt from transcript of police interview with #Cullen23-45-32
Suspect displays signs of distress. Hands shaking as he smokes. Severe discoloration from lack of sleep is apparent under his eyes.
"Mr. Cullen, perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning?"
Suspect nods. Extinguishes cigarette.
"Where did you first meet Ms. Swan?"
"At the lake."
"Can you confirm which lake you're referring to?"
"This was your first sighting?"
Suspect pauses, rubbing his brow before nodding.
"She was wearing a red dress."
I wrap Archie's leash around my hand, giving a yank to calm his enthusiasm as he paws at my newly painted door. Apple White is a calming color—uplifting, according to the flowery description on the tin. With each brush stroke, the fresh smell covered the scent of loneliness that invaded our empty apartment. I gained a certain amount of pleasure from being able to make a change in my life. Even if it was only to scratch the surface of the deeper problems a wrecking ball couldn't fix.
"Come on. Stop that," I chide him with a smile. His pink tongue lolling from the side of his jowls looks comical, his body wiggling in excitement.
Archie had arrived in a cardboard box, a blue bow around his tan neck, big brown eyes, and fur as soft as silk—a gift from my husband. He was to be my companion, a faithful friend to keep me company. I hadn't realized at the time he would fill a jagged hole in my life. Perhaps that was always the plan.
Without his unadulterated love, the despondency that hangs around me like a fog would encroach. I can feel its cold tendrils reach for me in the desperate quiet of night. It hovers in the corner of my eye, ready to descend if I choose to acknowledge it. But I don't. I smile. I look straight on. I keep myself busy. Blinkered.
I unlatch the door, and he pulls me down the narrow wooden stairs, his nails clicking on the old wood, and out into the sunshine. The summer breeze flutters my dress around my knees as we head to the water.
"Archie. No." I chase after him as he careens along the path, oblivious to my shouts, heading directly for a man sat under the shade of a gnarled lilac tree. Its sweet blooms color the lake and air with their presence.
"Don't worry, he's okay. Aren't you, boy?" The stranger is bent over, stroking my usually hesitant dog as he surrenders onto the grass, belly up. I can't help but roll my eyes at him.
"I'm so sorry. He usually listens to me. I don't know what's gotten into him." I brush my flyaway hair from my face, feeling the heat and exertion rising to my cheeks.
The man looks up, matching my nervous smile with one that tugs at a dormant part of my chest. "Honestly, it's fine. I love dogs."
He's dressed in shorts and sneakers. A runner. His hair is wet, haphazardly pushed back from his face, droplets hang on the tips, a bottle of water on the ground at his feet.
The emotion fighting its way out of my chest and fluttering in my stomach comes hand in hand with the realization I actually feel grateful to this stranger for his kind smile, and how pathetic that makes me feel.
"He's a troublemaker," I joke, grabbing onto Archie's collar and tickling the top of his head. "He seems to like you, though."
"I'm a natural." His smile grows, and his eyes are filled with mischief, their color as verdant as the woods that surround us. "What's his name?"
"Hello, Archie." He reaches down and picks up the tennis ball deposited at his feet and throws it far longer than I ever could, much to Archie's delight.
I laugh, surprising myself, as he screws his face up and wipes his drool-covered hand on his shorts. "I didn't think that through."
"It's an inevitable downside of owning a dog." I point to the trails Archie has kindly left on the skirt of my red dress. As he laughs, his eyes linger on my bare legs for a moment before he returns his attention to the newly deposited ball and attention-seeking dog at his heel.
I know I should make my excuses and leave, but deprived of someone to share my smiles and laughter with, the thin gold band around my finger feels weightless.
I push the thought away into the recesses of my mind with the memories of sleeping alone, cold dinners, and lies. "I guess now you're his new best friend. I should introduce myself. I'm Bella. Bella Swan."
His smile falters, but it's so quick I could've missed it with a blink, so when he takes my proffered hand, I decide I must have imagined it.
His palm pressed into mine, his fingers enveloping, feels like I've overstepped a boundary. Regardless, I can't find it in myself to care. My mother always warned me not to play with fire, or I'd get burned.
But, I don't think I can stand slowly freezing to death, either.
"Hi, Bella. I'm Edward Cullen."
Hollow Veins- Read more here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9534884/1/Hollow-Veins
I see her on the corner waiting for the light to turn, but she doesn't see me. Her eyes are fixed; no life remains in what were once the most expressive chocolate eyes. I've seen her there every day for the past few weeks. I can't even imagine what it's like for her.
The weather is turning cool, and she's not dressed appropriately. Well, she's dressed appropriate for a streetwalker, that is.
I wonder why she not showing her art or working in a gallery, or even teaching art classes. She's always loved kids, and her art work was fucking amazing.
My walk to work hasn't been pleasant. It's fucking hell. I want to pull her from the streets and take care of her, clean her up, feed her much-too-thin body and let her know there are other options. I see the bruises on her arms, fingerprints on her neck and a bruise on her face; it makes me want to scream. It makes me want to beat the person beating her.
Why does she do this?
But why do I care? She left me.
But I never stopped loving her
I want to reach out and touch the beautifully broken girl in the too tight jeans and tank top two sizes too small, wearing platform, hooker shoes. Shivering on the corner and rubbing her arms for warmth, she doesn't look the part because of her sweet face; I know this isn't what she wants. I see it in her eyes each day. She looks vanquished, heartbroken.
This isn't my Bella
What went wrong with her? She's fucking defeated.
I know my Bella, I can tell
A beaten up red Mustang pulls up to the corner, and I hear the fucker's words. I know he must be one of the factory workers just getting off of third shift. I did put that together, and figured out why Bella is always here in the mornings.
"Hey, sunshine, I've got eight inches here calling your name … how much for a blow job?"
I don't hear the rest.
I 'm not sure what she charges or what she says. I don't want to know. I close my eyes hoping that she doesn't leave with him, but she does.
I continue walking.
Breaking Beautiful- Read more here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9535623/1/Breaking-Beautiful
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