|TROUBLE in PARADISE|
Chapter I ; A little more than kin,
“A little more than kin,
and less than kind.”
Hamlet | Act I, Scene II
WHEN I WAS A LITTLE KID, I used to believe in wishing on stars. And if I had to guess, I’d say I spent at least three nights a week looking out my window and wishing. Wishing on shooting stars was the true practice, the one that actually worked, but I never learned it. We didn’t have access to any books or browsers. I came up with one of my own. I’d always take the brightest star I saw—I would name it whatever I wanted—then I’d sit and I’d wish on it. I wouldn’t say what I wanted aloud, but it would repeat in my head, even when I was asleep and meant to be thoughtless. Vacant dreams, I liked to call them. My favorite kind.
I grew up in foster care. I was never beaten, or called any names, or made to play Cinderella, but every pair of parents I encountered were neglectful. They did the same to their own children. We had to make our own food. We didn’t have anyone to help us bathe. We had to dress ourselves. We rode the bus to school and back. As young as I was, it was a struggle to make ends meet. It was a pain to get myself up, help the younger kids get ready, and go to school and ignore other kids when they asked me why my hair was uncombed and my outfits were frumpy. I couldn’t just outright say I didn’t have a traditional household. I couldn’t admit why I was so mature for my age. We were kids. No one knew the difference. Most of everyone thought all kids were meant to have a Mom and Dad. The only ones who understood were the silent ones, the ones who didn’t want their business known.
I didn’t have any friends, aside from my foster siblings. And I always had to leave them at one point. Foster parents were temporary, so it was bittersweet whenever the goodbyes came. I knew it was coming, but I couldn’t help but want to stay—even with parents who only liked the money that accompanied my company. I was irrelevant to their lights, but it felt like I meant something with their kids. Especially when they cried seeing me go.
As young and simple-minded as I was, I was always in a headspace beyond my years. You had to grow up fast in a broken system, just as you would a broken home. Staying naïve wasn’t an option. You learned in a dog-eat-dog world, you were the only person who you could truly depend on. Depending on others was a hazard. And though it scared me, I had to be the one there to catch my own fall. Trust and love were difficult to give willingly. I didn’t even know how to reciprocate them. I never had a chance to reciprocate them.
Then things changed. Not in a way I’d expected.
For the better. For my better.
After spending my first eight years alive jumping boats, sinking or swimming wherever I went, it came as a shock when I was adopted. The months that followed were foreign territory. Having someone who actually wanted to dress me, who took me out to celebrate when I got a good report card, who learned to braid hair just for me, it felt surreal. And I couldn’t believe he’d fought for the right to be my guardian after they’d told him a single father wasn’t a good homelife situation for a little girl. I’d given up on being happy or having a normal life.
The day I became Madeline Swan was transformative. And it was a day I’d like to keep forever close to my heart.
But it wouldn’t be very personal if I shared it, now would it?
January 15th, 2005
Outside the Swan House
WITHIN MY first few months of being in Forks, I learned how much I loved to hike. There were so many trails here, ones that led to and from the woods, and the atmosphere—while rainy and dreary—was nothing more than I could ask for. I loved the rain, I loved the cold, I loved the trees. I felt more at home in the woods than I had anywhere else in my life. And my dad—Charlie—was more than eager to show me around and take me on a tour of the woods. He used the opportunity for a hunting party, and Harry Clearwater came too, but it was fun. Particularly when I ended up tumbling down a hill and got mud and leaves all over my face. They teased and prodded at me the entire way home.
Hiking became a passion of mine. I spent every weekend out somewhere, putting foot to land and foot to land, and I sometimes even went into the woods after school to spend my evenings there. After I was given a camera for Christmas a few years back, I started snapping away memories of every place I visited. I was always making new discoveries in the woods. Nothing ever stayed the same. During autumn and winter, the leaves changed and fell, the muck turned white and crunchy. I went in there expecting a wonderland of wintry delights but got something eerie and dreamlike instead.
I never complained.
It was 2 in the afternoon and I’d spent my entire morning taking pictures of the trees. I’d also spotted wolf-prints, something I hadn’t ever seen before, and I was eager to show them to my dad. I didn’t know we had wolves this close to home. As I was shaking out my boots covered in muck, leaves, and snow-grit, camera strap hanging around my neck, my dad was just coming from the house. He had a huge grin on his face.
“Maddie!” he said, approaching me. I stopped stomping the gravel, returning his smile. His happiness had always been contagious. “You remember Bella, don’t you?”
There were a lot of names in my head, ones that didn’t matter and ones that did. When I thought about the name Bella, what popped up was a pretty brunette with sharp chocolate-brown eyes and a pale complexion. A slender frame and quiet demeanor. Someone who looked a lot like both her parents, but especially her mom, just with longer hair. “Bella? Your daughter?”
Dad nodded, nearly jumping on his toes.
“Is she coming to visit again?” I asked him, never dropping my smile. Bella was really nice when I first met her, and she stayed that way every time she came to visit in the summer. She wasn’t very extroverted, and she was older than me by a little over a year, but I never let our differences make us anything less than somewhat-siblings. I don’t think she did either. We weren’t cordial just for our Dad’s peace of mind, contrary to usual somewhat-siblings relationships.
“More than that,” Dad said, a grin budding on his mouth. “She’s coming to stay. Go to school in Forks, just like you do.”
“Really?” I probably looked just like him—elated, with a dumb smile stretched across my face. “When?”
“She’ll be getting here on Monday, starting school with you on Tuesday,” said Dad, before his smile dropped. “I wish you weren’t a sophomore, so you could help her to classes. She’ll need a friend.”
I flapped my hand, trying not to bounce up and down. I was so excited. “I can help her!” I told him. “I may be a sophomore, but I know most of the rooms. It’s a small school.”
“Great—great.” Dad’s smile curved back up, and he slithered an arm around my neck. When I continued to stare at him, nearing a breaking point on containing my exaltation, he must have noticed; my feet were forced northward, skidding on the gravel before they could even think to mobilize on their own, and Dad walked us back towards the house. “Wanna know what homecoming gift I’ve got for her?”
The door snapped open. It was old and wobbly, and it made a creaking noise when it was jerked from its lock. As the two of us disappeared into the house, I told him, “Of course!”
Nothing more than a scene from a movie, the door slammed shut behind us and our words fell into dust, just like our shadowing bodies.
I was happy for him. He’d missed out on so many years of his daughter’s life, only getting glimpses. She’d leave for home one summer end with long-running pigtails and mischievous eyes; she’d come back a year later with her hair cropped short and eyes bordering emptiness. I wanted to know what she looked like now. She was such a gorgeous person, inside and out. Dad never stopped his gushing and repenting. I was so, so overwhelmed with this desire to know her.
As a sister. As a best friend.
I hoped with all my might she’d welcome back a family she hardly knew, even if this entire trip was just an inconvenience. That her unhappiness at being swapped back and forth had evaporated, and she was excited to come here. She was the one who wanted to come in the first place, right? Surely it wasn’t Renee’s idea. If it was—
Stop the nonsense. She’ll want to know you!
Dad’s rambling was all white noise in my head, but I smiled and nodded anyway, wolf-prints long gone from my thoughts.
Bella would want to know me. Know us.
January 17th, 2005
Madeline Swan’s bedroom, kitchen
I WOKE UP on the day of her intended arrival thinking about mountains, and how much I wanted to visit New Hampshire. Bella wasn’t a priority, not in a foggy, semi-conscious mind. Only after I’d gotten up and dressed to go for a walk, ignoring Dad as he hummed and chittered to himself along the thin hallway walls, ignoring my fatigue at being up at six in the morning, did it even rise to the forefront of my priorities. I realized—she was coming home today. And while my father would be going to the airport to wait for her, I was expected to attend school. Still.
“Dad!” I called, rushing down the stairs. Each step was fast and a stumble, none so calculated as they were mindlessly put into action. No response came from my father, even as I ventured into the kitchen. Upon seeing him buttering toast I felt less frantic. He’s not gone. He’s still here. “Hey. Dad. Can I come?”
There was a light I’d never seen on him before, in him, and it only brightened when he looked at me. “Maddie, you have school,” he said, but the way he said it was strange. Like he was delivering the news that he’d won the lottery. “Bella’ll still be here when you get back.”
Aw, I thought, feeling like a blubbering child who was told she couldn’t have the newest Baby Alive. I probably looked the part, too. “But…” I gnawed on my bottom lip. “What if you guys go out to eat or something? I don’t have a key to the house.”
“If we did that, you’d come too, kid,” said Dad, his butter knife limp against his toast. It was probably cold by now.
The amount of incredulity in his tone made me feel embarrassed.
“Oh. Oh, okay.” I nodded. And kept nodding. I nodded until it felt like my head was coming loose from its screws. “That’s good.”
Dad examined me from top to bottom, his warm brown eyes coming to rest on my face. I had my hair pulled into a braid, face like Oil Central. I was wearing my warmest attire—a pair of too-big snow dungarees I’d gotten for Christmas one year and a triple layer of sweaters. My snow boots were crusted in muck and grit. There wasn’t anything telling about me, not really, but it wouldn’t take much brains to know where I was going. Not with a police officer for a father.
That very look on his face twisted, first a grimace than a smile, with humor crinkling at his eyes. “Again?” was all he said.
“I always take a hike before school.”
“It’s thirty-two degrees outside, Mads.”
Dad just shook his head. Arguing with me always turned out to be useless, much like speaking with a marble statue. “Alright, alright. Go on then. Are you coming back after your run or what?”
It was going to be more a walk than a run, considering the temperature and considering my choice in dresswear, but I didn’t bother correcting something so irrelevant. A smile on my face, I pointedly looked back at my shoulders, where a backpack was nowhere to be seen. Not even the strap of a travel bag was visible. My only possession was my compass, which I had in my pants’ pocket.
Dad caught the hint. “Coming back to get your school books?”
“Alright.” Dad nodded back. It was a morning ritual, actually, something we had to do lest the universe’s balance spiral out of control. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. I would let you take my key for the day, but I can’t leave it to you in good faith. What happened to your last one? Was is the toilet, or losing it down a ravine? I never could keep track. This last one was your tenth.”
“My last, last one? My purse got stolen,” I said grimly, thinking back on my collection of state landmark pins that decorated my jean crossbody. That purse had been my pride and joy, and having it stripped away from me in one abrupt swoosh left my heart irreparable. “That reminds me… I need a new purse.”
There was an urgency here now, especially after I glanced over and saw the time. 6:20 AM. School was in less than two hours. Dad had to go and pick up Bella. I had to go take my walk. Meaningful tasks, but one was more important than the other—as evidenced by Dad’s unusual energy. He was acting so different.
“Well, I’ll see you later, kiddo,” he said, ignoring my last comment. “With Bells.”
I returned his smile. “Don’t lock me out!” I joked, a little bit scared he’d do the exact opposite, but I left anyway. I walked out that door that always creaked and slammed, nerves fried but standing at attention, and shivered upon meeting a brisk, unwelcoming gust of wind. It’s like it was saying, Go away, human. Even the trees felt cold.
Before I left for my daily session with nature, I took a glance back at the door. I thought about Bella, and how she’d be here when I got home from school. I was so excited to see her again. Would she look any different? Last I saw, she was normal—or as normal as a teenage girl could be. She was quiet and reclusive. What was she now?
I was going to find out in less than ten hours.
January 17th, 2005
Forks High School, Cafeteria
I KNEW the school was going to be abuzz with the news of a newbie by tomorrow morning, but I was desperate to keep it under wraps. However, Dad was excited. When he got excited he liked to talk. By first period I’d already had three different people ask me about my sister. In a small town, with a school that had less than four-hundred-students in its max capacity, new people were a commodity. Especially someone who was the Chief’s biological daughter.
After an eventful first half of the day that consisted of dodging too-invasive questions and snoozing through a documentary on Shakespeare, I thought I was in the clear. I’d made it through the lunch line and sat at my usual spot in the middle of the cafeteria, when it happened. Alone for all but two minutes, someone sat down. This person was joined by four others. Before I could jump up and leave, clean-cut cuticles appeared on my arm, the hand that accompanied them gripping me tightly. Tighter than a father would his child in a crowd.
I looked up. It was Lauren.
Lauren was your average small-town beauty: she had eyes like green emeralds and hair the texture and color of corn-silk. Whenever she talked, she used perfect, coaxing sugar, the kind that only came out when you wanted to entice someone—but she used it every time she spoke. Her voice had a nasal-like quality to it, and I found myself staring at her nostrils, waiting for her to sniffle and cough. Was she sick? Or was she a smoker?
Why she was here, at my table, wasn’t a question I even had to think about. Lauren Mallory was no stranger to gossip. She must have heard about Bella, some way or another.
Lauren leaned into me, where I could see every oxidized pore in microscopic detail, and said, “We heard your step-sister’s coming to town, Madeline. This one’s biological, right?”
The friends who’d accompanied her huddled close, staring at me. When my eyes flickered around, I could name them all. There was Jessica, and Mike, and Eric, and Angela. Tyler wasn’t with them, but I saw his head peaking around browsing bodies from a table over. Each one of them was fully attentive. They were interested in what I had to say, and it made me nervous. They made me nervous. I had never felt like I measured up to any of them. I was never the prettiest or the smartest or the funniest girl. I was just Madeline Swan.
“She—” My voice came out like a croak, and I stopped abruptly. I held my throat as I coughed. “She’s biological.”
“What does she look like?” Lauren eyed my hair and face. I hadn’t gotten to do my make-up this morning so the sparse places on my T-zone and cheeks were on full display. “Blonde, brunette? Blue eyes? Brown? Skinny, fat? Tall? Short?”
“Jee, Laur, sounds like you’re interrogating her,” Jessica said with a snort. But her eyes twinkled, a sign she wanted to hear my answers, too.
“So?” Lauren prompted.
Like anyone who wasn’t very good in confrontation, I had three telltales for being nervous: chewing my lip, glancing around the room, and saying stupid things. Worst case scenario, all three would come into play. With Lauren Mallory at my table, it was difficult not to be a sweating, nerves-wracked mess. At her expectant stare, I stammered, “You—you’ll see tomorrow.”
Eric groaned—as did Mike. “Dude,” said Eric, mirroring everyone at the table’s disappointed stares. “Come on—what does she look like?”
“Human,” I blurted out. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Lauren’s hand disappeared from my arm. Before I could say some lousy apology, her head popped up in front of mine. While seemingly innocent in nature, her eyes cut deep, a threat hidden behind a smiling mouth. I’d never been at the mercy of her before, but with a new girl on the horizon, someone I knew better than any of our other peers, she had to make sure she’d be no threat. High school was like the thunder dome, and Bella was an unclear opponent. “Is she ugly?”
I don’t like this. “No,” I said. “She’s not ugly.”
“Is she pretty?” Lauren’s lip curled.
“Yes,” I said.
Eric nudged Mike in the stomach, grinning. His attention turned towards me. “Pretty, huh?”
I grimaced. “Yes. Very pretty. But I, uh, have to go. I have—rehearsal.” It wasn’t a lie. I did have rehearsal. A rehearsal for how to deal with further confrontations, since I was leaving this one in near-tears. Lauren was boy-crazy, Jessica was a follower, Angela was a coward, and the boys were eager for arm-candy. I may have been a nice person, but I wasn’t stupid. None of them were my friends.
Would Bella be their friend?
Lauren and Jessica whispered to one another, eyes always traveling back to me. I wanted to cry. I really wanted to cry.
“See ya, Swan,” called out Mike, as I got up and hurried away. Both him and Eric were laughing. But I didn’t think there was anything about this situation that was funny.
Only after I’d gotten out of the cafeteria did I realize I left my tray behind, as well as my dignity.
High school sucked.
January 17th, 2005
FIRST Forks High: Public Restroom, Car Lot THEN the Swan House: Front-yard
GETTING HOME proved to be more of a hassle than it should have been. I’d spent the entire last period crying in the bathroom, bare face reaching a stage of blotchy that was far from fixable, and only when the bell rang did I snap out of my slump. I’d been here for an hour. I was all cried out by the thirty-minute mark. When the bathroom door slammed open and a group of chittering girls entered, I knew it was time that I cleaned myself up and made for home.
You’re being childish, I thought, wiping my nose with a tissue I had in my bag. I was sitting cross-legged and fully-clothed on the toilet, staring at my dirty Chucks. A grown girl wouldn’t cry. I let my emotions get the better of me. All because a group of popular kids made me feel like less.
Dad wouldn’t be happy when he got notified of my absence in seventh period.
He had Bella, though. Maybe that would lessen the blow, whenever and wherever it came.
Just get up. Stop moping.
I didn’t remember getting up.
I left the bathroom, and left the school, and left the car lot. My feet took me places my mind wasn’t ready to process and dissect.
Have you ever seen a snake after its head been chopped off—wriggling and twitching, all nerves and no sense? That’s how I felt. I felt headless. And more than that, I felt like the sad, quiet child back in foster care, my uncombed hair the target for insecure children. Was that what Lauren wanted? Did her and her friends say those things intentionally? Did they want to hurt me?
I was naïve to think anything different.
By the time I’d gotten home, I wasn’t in perfect condition, but my face had cleared enough that it wouldn’t be obvious I’d been crying. There weren’t any tear-tracks, and my cheeks weren’t swollen. My eyes were puffy, just barely. It’d take a detective to sniff out my deception, from my crooked smile to the hopscotch-step gait. I was always good at putting on a charade.
Dad and Bella were out front when I got there. They weren’t alone, evidenced by the two tall figures standing by Bella’s homecoming gift.
I got closer, and everyone’s attention transferred to me.
“If it isn’t Little Miss Maddie Swan,” said Billy Black, my Dad’s dearest friend, with a warm smile. When I got close enough, he rolled a few feet over, and I leaned down to embrace his middle. He gave great hugs and I’d use any excuse for one.
Billy lived on the reserve and was the Quileute Chief. He had an inviting aura with laugh lines all around his face and had been in a wheelchair for months after his fight with diabetes took a turn for the worse. Dad made constant fishing trips with him and had him over throughout the seasons for sports games. Football, basketball, baseball—as long as they had each other’s company, the game didn’t matter. They clinked beers and swapped stories, all the while rooting for whichever team they preferred.
Sometimes I’d join them, clueless but willing to participate. Most of the time, though, I’d just sit in my room and talk to Jacob Black.
There was Jacob, Billy’s only son, with charcoal hair longer than mine and eyes so chestnut I mistook them for bark. He was tall and lean, with a voice that made me think I was talking to a twenty-year-old instead of someone my age. Sixteen in mind and heart with mature, adult-grown physicality. He was a commodity.
And he’d wanted my sister since we first made mud-pies, over eight years ago. That still applied. I saw it in the close proximity. I saw it in the star-eyed gaze. He was head over heels, in too deep to leave.
“Yo, Mads,” said Jacob, beaming as he approached me. I traded one Black hug for another, this one carrying me up onto my toes. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
I peered around his shoulder, where Dad was standing by a rust-red 1953 Chevy pickup. Beside him was a girl. The girl was pale as a ghost, standing translucent under the skylight. Her dark hair gave her an ethereal glow, eyes dark in contrast to her skin, and she was of slender build. The strangest thing about her was the dark, gothic-toned clothing. The lack of a smile, the annoyed aura. The way she looked like she hated everything and wanted to disappear.
There wasn’t a single memory I had of her where she looked so sullen. But here she was, petulant—like she’d rather be in the Sahara Desert than Forks, Washington.
I stared at her, picking apart each unfamiliar detail, scrutinizing her. This was until I realized the glare she had on her face. Directed at me. Directed at Billy, Jake, and Dad. Directed at everyone and everything, as long as they were in the vicinity.
She wants to know us, my mind chanted, desperate to think it as fact.
“Hi!” I waved.
I didn’t receive one back.
“I’m going to my room,” said Bella abruptly, rudely—her face twitching.
“Bells, what—” Dad tried, looking pained, reaching for her. It seemed like her anger had followed overhead like a cloud from the airport to the house.
She didn’t take kindly to his attempts at coddling.
Bella dodged his hand, glared at each one of us in turn, and walked towards the house. She had a fury to her walk, one you couldn’t fake regardless of how good you were at acting. When she opened the door, she propelled herself inside, and the door slammed behind her.
I wanted to burst into tears. But I held them in, knowing I’d cried enough today to last a decade of emotional turmoil.
“Is she okay?” asked Jake.
Dad shook his head. Billy rolled over to him, staring up with a frown, looking sorry and guilty all at once. When Billy placed a comforting hand on Dad’s arm, he didn’t fight it. He leaned into it. And he stared at me, with that same look Billy did, like he wanted to say all sorts of things but knew nothing about deliverance.
I had so many questions I wanted to ask. The one most present was the very one none of us could answer.
What was wrong with Bella?
January 17th, 2005
The Swan House, outside Bella & Maddie’s bedroom
I KNOCKED on the door three times. There came no answer, not once. I said her name. I asked what was wrong. I tried to be gentle, tried to put myself in her shoes.
Nothing but an unamicable silence.
I stood outside for a while afterwards, staring at the door, thinking about Bella and wracking for reasons. Was she unhappy to be here? Was she depressed? Did her and Dad have a bad relationship?
What could possibly have led to her looking like she did? Why hadn’t she said anything to me? Why was I locked out of my own room?
You didn’t do anything wrong, I reasoned. Unreasonably, illogically, I believed the opposite.
After an hour of looking and feeling stupid, I heard someone walk up the stairs. Dad’s form appeared seconds later as he began his trek down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of plaid lounge pants and a black T-shirt, his messy hair a mop atop his head. Obviously ready for bed. When he saw me, he came to a full stop, face falling into a pinched look of despair.
“Still no luck?” he asked.
I shook my head miserably.
“She’ll come around, Mads,” Dad said quietly, reaching out a hand to squeeze my shoulder. I had to remind myself he was hurting, too. He didn’t know how to help her. He thought he was her problem. He knew she didn’t want to be here.
That light I’d seen in him just this morning had diminished completely. The darkness that itched and scratched at him now, turning him blue like the evening moon would paint the sky, had shattered him completely, reverse-cycling him back into the fragilely-healing father I knew him as. He’d slowly been picking up the pieces left in his ex-wife and estranged daughter’s wake. I was here doing my damnedest to help.
I glanced at the door, lowering both my head and voice; “Are you okay?” I asked him.
Dad’s face fell. Sure, he’d already looked stricken, but my words broke his thinly-crafted façade he put up for my sake. “I just want her to be happy here,” he said. “She’s only here because she has to be.”
I’d suspected since I first saw her glare, but having it confirmed hurt deeply. I swallowed hard and said, “I do too, Dad. I don’t know how to help her.”
More troubling was how we’d get her to accept help.
Dad stared at me, eyes broken, looking like he wanted to attempt drawing knuckles on the doors too, before he just left. His door closed softly behind him, as he locked himself in his room.
I did the same, leaving, with one last glance at my bedroom door.
I slept on the couch that night—or tried to, at least. I stared up at the ceiling and thought about Bella, whose voice I’d heard one full sentence from the entirety of today. I had been excited to come home, thinking the words from Lauren were nothing compared to what Bella and I would get to talk about. I was happy, excited.
All until I got here to realize: Bella didn’t come here willingly.
She didn’t want to know us. Or Forks. She wanted nothing to do with being here.
And that’s what hurt the most.
A/N: This is gonna be fun to write. It’ll be angsty and it’ll be painful, but I’m going to love every fucking second of it. The current endgame romance is unclear, so in the comments, tell me who you’d prefer her lover be. Your options are endless considering how early we are. I mean, vampire or shapeshifter, I don’t care! I’d prefer to write a romance you all want the most. Maddie’s current friendship with Jacob may sway a few of you (I know a shit ton of you are Team Jacob in general) but don’t feel like it HAS to be a Jacob-romance. There’s all sorts of characters to choose from, including girls! Paul’s the only one I really don’t want to write, since I already have a Paul fanfic. The only characters in range I’m really excluding are Carlisle, Paul, and Edward. The rest are fair game.
The story is plot-based and the romance is just a subplot, FYI! I hope you all will love watching Maddie’s story unfold and won’t be disappointed that a lot of her journey for the duration of Twilight (the book/film) focuses on self-evolving, a horror-movie-inspired subplot I won’t spoil, and the development of her relationship with the Cullen family. Jacob will be a constant presence, and there will be a few cameos from pack members pre-shift, but the shapeshifter plot won’t be appearing until Volume II!
Bella is extremely OOC. I hated her character in the Twilight series so I’m twisting her to be what I would have loved to see. She isn’t going to be 100% reliant on Edward (who will also be different) and he isn’t going to be her life. Hell, maybe I’ll make their budding relationship a subplot so I can make it seem more slow-burn. Bella will be antisocial and bitchy for most of the first few chapters but her backstory and personality are totally different. I hope you guys like her and see her as three-dimensional.
Before you get angry that I’m “changing” things, you have to remember this is FANFICTION. I don’t own Twilight in the slightest tho, so here’s me acknowledging my lack of rights.
Tell me how you like this so far and give me ideas for characters and plots! Thanks a bunch.