Voices |E. Cullen|

TEN

My locker was hard to open, even when I got the combination right it would get stuck trying to pull it. Once I got it open, I shoved my biology textbook on the shelf and ripped my battered copy of Crime and Punishment as I pulled it from underneath of another heavy textbook and some spare papers. I groaned, my books were my treasures and whenever they were damaged it felt like a piece of me was too. Clutching Dostoevsky to my chest, I slammed the metal door shut and turned to walk to english. Instead, I was faced with a tall, pale man I had come to know as Emmett Cullen.

"You know," it wasn't a question, it was a statement.

I nodded lightly, looking around to make sure that no one was in ear shot.

"It wasn't his right to tell you, he's put all of us in danger," Emmett's face was stressed. "You're not one of us."

I looked around again to double check the hearing distance. "I may not be one of you, but I can see every single person that any of you have killed. They linger around you and scream bloody murder until I pay attention to them. It makes it impossible to listen to a lecture in its entirety, impossible to sleep soundly, impossibly to pass through the day like a normal person."

His facial expression changed, he went from stressed to hurt in a matter of seconds. "Everyone?"

I nodded lightly again, "Maybe some have moved on, but it seems to be everyone. Especially around Jasper."

The bell rang but neither of us moved, "Who do you see... around me?"

Looking around, there weren't many. Just four lonesome souls leaning against lockers. All except for one, a small girl with dark brown hair. She clutched a teddy bear and tears streamed down her face. My lips parted as I stared at her, no sound would come out.

He looked completely distraught for a moment before tears welled up in the bottom of his eyes. He turned on his heel and left the building completely. I felt bad. I didn't want to make him relive his traumatic experiences. He is the one who asked, though.

My book still clutched against my chest, I hurried off to English and slid in my seat next to Mike Newton. I looked back and noticed that Edward was quite close to Isabella Swan, the two seemed to be chatting in voices too low for anyone else to hear. A pang of jealousy radiated through me as I looked ahead at the movie that was playing in black and white on the box television. As childish as it might have been, I quickly grabbed a piece of scrap paper and transcribed a small message.

Cullen and Isabella? I slid it carefully to Mike so that the teacher wouldn't see.

He sighed when he read it. His handwriting was much worse and he was loud because of how hard he pressed the pencil to the paper. The note slid back my way in a mildly aggressive manner. I know, it doesn't make sense.

I huffed before quietly crumpling the paper and sliding it in my bag. I tossed my hair over my shoulders and crossed my arms as I focused in on the movie. It wasn't fair to use Edward as a remedy for the sixth sense phenomenon, but I was annoyed that he was spending time with her. If anything, it should have been with the girl who had ties to his world, it should have been me.