|
|
Hi, my name is Delanie
Rosen
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Forbidden Fruit Tastes The Sweetest :01: |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 5 with 1 vote(s)
|
|
| Created: 2009-01-08 21:40:23 |
|
|
|
A/N- This is a notice to everyone! Yes, this story is Twilight related. BUT!- it is not a fanfic, nor is it a continuation of the series. It is a story idea of my own, using the same vampire concepts, and there might be the occasional reference. So rather than leave nasty comments on how pointless Twilight is, or how lame this story is, if you don’t like Twilight or don’t want to read it, kindly hit the back button. This is not geared towards everyone, and I recognize that. Please respect me then, and leave if you are uninterested.
Also, as a note. I am aware that there is a place in Colorado called Aspen. Being a busy college student, I don’t care to do enough research to find a small, mountain side town, that’s cloudy and rainy. Therefore, I’m making up my own fictional town, that just so happens to bear the name Aspen. Please, don’t hate me.
~~~~
Mom said it would be safer for me here. I wouldn’t have to have my past lingering over my head. I could be my own person, get out and do my own things, make my own friends. Essentially what she meant, was “get a life”. But after years of living in fear, I was starting to realize I didn’t have to life in fear anymore; there was nothing that life held for me. I was a horrible person, responsible for the death of someone I loved.
But, I’ve come to realize that I’ve been telling myself a lie. No, not about the death part; I still take full blame for that. But there is something that life holds for me, that I couldn’t and refuse to live without. And now, submerged in thick, damp darkness, I don’t think I have much of a choice in the matter. I won't be able to see him again. And if I do, it will be as something other than myself.
Fate can be a funny thing.
~~~~~
I savored the traffic as long as I could. Before long, there wouldn’t be any traffic, no constant blaring of sirens, or revving of car engines as they stopped and started along the street. Soon, all I would be getting was a lack of sun, and constant rain. Not that I didn’t get enough of that here. But still.
I loved New York City. At night, everything lit up, and against the smog-choked sky, it was beautiful. It’s the city that never sleeps, which mean there’s always something going on. It’s busy, eccentric, and it always keeps you on your toes. And I was leaving it all behind. All thanks to my dad.
You see, my dad, he’s a politician. And not a very popular one at that. He’s had several death threats, many attempts at his life. But he’s fared well, all things considering; he’s stiff, emotionless, almost indifferent about all these occurrences. But I’m a whole different story. I haven’t had countless threats on my life, or anyone swearing they'll kill me, whether their life is at stake or not. I've only had one, a long time ago. And it’s because of that I’m now being sent away. Somewhere I won’t have to hide, or worry about someone putting a knife to my throat.
I’m off to Aspen, Colorado. It’s a small, mountainside town, with only some 3,800 people living there. It’s cloudy, rainy, and eternally green. Oh joy. I’m going to be living with my three older brothers who, thanks to much help on my wealthy parents’ part, own a stately 3 bedroom, 2 bath cabin in the foothills beneath the Rockies, only two or three miles from the town. Mom and dad think it’s the perfect place for me to hide out for awhile. It’s tiny and obscure and, under my pseudonym Alyson Greene, there won’t be any need for a security detail surrounding me at all times. Maybe by sending myself to hell, I’d finally be able to expiate my horrible crime and prove that I really was sorry.
A hard knot was forming in my stomach. I didn’t want to go to Aspen, but I knew better than to argue with my father. He was, after all, a politician, and nearly always got his way. Besides, he would've found some way to ship me off, whether or not it was absolutely neccessary.
I looked out the dark, tinted windows of the sleek black Lincoln, trying to observe my reflection in the murky surface. I looked a lot like my mother, for which I was thankful. We had the same red-gold hair that burned almost copper in the light, though her hair was full and lustrous, while mine was hopelessly straight and fine. We had a peachy complexion, a bony narrow nose, and champagne pink lips. Unfortunately, I had my dad’s pert, stubborn chin, and steely grey eyes.
The ride to the airport was long, largely due to the fact that New York’s traffic is anything but quick, especially when you live near Manhattan. When we arrived, my mother stepped out with me, while behind us, from a separate car, two men from the security detail slipped into the crowd, looking inconspicuous. I unloaded my things from the back. I didn’t have much, considering that I had refused to bring most of the things my mom had bought for me that would only prove to be frivolous and useless once I got to Aspen.
We walked silently to my gate, her arm around my shoulder the entire time, murmuring assurances in my ear, while the two black clad figures followed a relatively close distance behind. No matter how long ago it had been, it was still dangerous for me to be out in public where I might be recognized.We checked the screen, noticing that my flight was on time, and it would be about fifteen more minutes before I could board. I checked in, brandishing my ticket before taking a seat among the other waiting passengers. I tried to get my mom to go back home. After all, I was old enough to get on a plane on my own, and I knew it would break her heart when I got on that plane and left, for who knows how long. But she shook her head, instead cradling me in her lap like I was five again. I welcomed the attention, tucking my head under her chin. Forget PDA. I would miss her so much while I was away, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. She was losing her daughter. Again.
“Flight 289 is now ready for boarding,” the intercom rattled, and several people around me stood to their feet.
My mom grabbed my hands, squeezing them. “I’m so sorry, Delanie. I’m so sorry this had to happen. But you know we’re doing this for your safety, right?”
Her voice was watery, so I tried to make my smile as convincing as possible. “I know, mom. Believe me, mom, I have no hostility towards you or dad. I’ll be fine. And I'll be back soon.”
She bobbed her head.” I’ll miss you. Don’t forget to call and write. And please, for all things good, Delanie Rosen, stay SAFE.” Her eyes were large.
I swallowed. “I promise mom.”
She stood and hugged me, watching as I boarded the plane. I didn't turn around once, didn't wave or smile. Rather, with a determined set to my chin, I crossed the terminal, handing over my ticket, and walked swiftly across the bridge. I opted for an aisle seat; I didn’t want to watch my home, my memories, my life fly away beneath me. I tried to sleep as much as possible, knowing that the tears would come sooner or later, and so curled up with a tiny pillow in the chair.
It was approximately a 3 hour flight to Denver. My joints were stiff from sitting in a ball for so long that I stumbled when I first got off the plane. But I spotted my brothers soon enough, their heads bobbing among the other people.
Oh, my brothers. The oldest, Taren, was 22 and Tanner was 20. They resembled my mom a lot too, from the reddish hair, to the tilt of their noses and smiles, and even the stormy blue eyes. They’ve always been the jokesters of the family, and I was always their prime target (I was and still am rather scrawny). They were both working for their nurse’s degrees and interning at the local hospital. Chandler, only a year older than me at 18, however, was like looking my father in a mirror. His hair was flaxen, his jaw strong, his eyes sharp and glinting like knives, even though he was really a gentle soul. Compared with my always smiling oldest brothers, Chandler was serious, and methodical, just letting things happen as they did. He and I were the most alike.
“Lanie!” Tanner screamed, bounding over to me and sweeping me into a huge hug. “It’s our favorite little sibling. How have things been? Excited to be back in Colorado? You need to come visit us more often, because we miss your smiling face.” He chucked me under the chin.
I grumbled, pushing out of his arms. “Back off, Tanner. I’m still strong enough to beat you down.” He smiled, setting me down. When I was younger, I was notorious for putting Taren and Tanner in their place if ever they went too far in their teasing. I both received and inflicted a good share of bruises. “And it’s Alyson, here, stupid,” I added under my breath.
“Oh. Forgot. Well, c’mon then.” He picked up carry-on bags (a rather stuffed backpack and a purse with not much more than a wallet, an empty water bottle, a book, a pen, and some asiprin). After a brief exchange of hugs, we retrieved the rest of my lugage from baggage claim, and then all headed towards the door. I grimaced as I stepped out. It was relatively bright here in Denver, considering that it was late October. But the oppressing clouds were on the fringe of the horizon, ready to step in and make my day horrible. And they looked to be right over the mountains.
We piled into Taren’s shiny white Jetta, Chandler and I taking the back seat. It was easily a four hour drive from Denver to Aspen, and Chandler, tacit as always, would supply little conversation. I knew if I tried to strike up anything with Taren or Tanner, it would somehow turn into a joke about me. So, giving up on that thought, I pulled out the small pillow I had used on the plane and, leaned against the door, feigning sleep for a greater part of the trip.
Chandler shook my shoulder when we were fifteen minutes away. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, glancing out the window at the now pitch black night sky. I couldn’t recall when I had actually fallen asleep. “It’s going to be great, Lanie,” Taren started. We’ve cleared the downstairs bathroom out just for you, and you’ll be taking Tanner’s room.” At my look of disgust, he laughed, continuing, “Don’t worry. We cleaned that thing from floor to ceiling. We even used bleach, so you’ll be fine. We’ve got you enrolled at the high school, under your alias of course,” he stifled a snicker. “Oh… and something else.”
The last part was cryptic and I wasn’t sure what he meant, or if that odd little smile of his hinted that it was good or bad. We turned off the main road, onto a narrow gravel path. After a few yards, the cabin came into a view, the garage house to the side, separate from the cabin itself. And in the center, was a beautiful little car that I knew didn’t belong to any of the boys (lucky little whiners had complained long enough till mom and dad loaned them each enough money to buy themselves their own car). “Hey, Taren, since when have you owned a Mazda?”
His smile deepened. “We donn’t. You do.” My mouth popped open, staring incredulously at the sleek, navy blue M3, sparkling under the flourescent garage lights. As soon as the ignition was off, I was out of the Jettar, racing across the driveway to the garage. I stared down at the car in disbelief. My eyes said it all: no way! Chandler grinned, coming over. “It’s from mom and dad. Though we’re only covering the insurance and gas payments until you get your own job.”
“Oh my… wow.” I was in disbelief. Well, this was certainly one way to make up for sending me to my personal hell.
“Hey! C’mon slow pokes,” Tanner called from across the lawn. “It’s cold out here and I don’t want to stand here forever while Lanie fawns over her car.” I scowled, but Chandler, chuckling mildly, grabbed my elbow and steered me towards the house.
It hadn’t changed much since I last visited their cabin four years ago. The floors were all hardwood, a beautiful maple, and the walls of all the rooms were either warm shades of tan, plum, sage, or deep red. The color scheme was tied in with the rich burgundy and tan rugs. The furniture was sleek and modern, and yet held all the nostalgic pieces, that marked their sprawling estate as a mountain cabin, complete with animal pelts, and the horns of sheep and elk. You could tell they had been raised in New York; their style sense was far too good for college boys. The lamps shed a warm, homey light about the place and I realized the knot in my stomach was gradually beginning to loosen.
My things had been left by the door, Chandler having vanished like a ghost upstairs, and Tanner and Taren already in the kitchen. “The fridge is open, Delanie. Just help yourself,” Taren said. I smiled. There were benefits to living with just boys. I kicked my shoes off by the door, sliding into the kitchen on my socks. I quickly scanned the contents but found nothing of interest, instead grabbing a banana out of the bowl in the island. The boys were sitting on the counter, eating what looked to be like leftover Chinese food.
“So, how are things at the hospital,” I tried, knowing that as soon as I went to my room, I’d start crying.
Taren cocked a skeptical brow, but Tanner, bless his soul, jumped right in. “Awesome! We love what we do too much. And the kids in pediatrics are great. The staff is awesome. Don’t worry, we’ll take you in sometime to meet them.”
I looked to Taren. “And you?”
He shrugged. “Tanner pretty much just said it all. But good all the same. Only another two years and I'll be official. Delanie, aren’t you tired? It’s past midnight in New York.” I sighed. Leave it to Taren to be practical.
“Guess I’ll just go to bed then.” Tossing my peel in the garbage I grabbed my luggage from the door.
I took the hallway to the left, passing the bathroom that was now mine. At the end was the rec room, complete with video games, a tiny 13” TV, an air hockey table, and a pool table. Off to the side was my room, or used to be Tanner’s. I was glad to find that it had been scoured. The plum walls were free from holes and dust, the window overlooking the back lawn and forest spotless. My favorite off white flannel sheets had been added to the mattress (which the boys assured me was new). The small closet was empty, as was the dresser and bed side table, and the desk was cleared off. A thick brown rug covered most of the large room, which would shield my feet from the cool hard wood floors in the morning.
I liked it. Even deep down I didn’t want to admit it and told myself I really hated it. Putting off the inevitable, I hunted through my suitcase for a pair of boxer shorts and one of my t-shirts, riddled with holes, brushing my teeth and changing in the bathroom. I pulled a brush through my hair, throwing it into a knot at the back of my head, prior to pulling back the sheets. Before climbing in bed, I plugged in the night light, staring at its comforting, bright light as it spilled across the room. Reassured, I shut off the light switch and climbed into bed, allowing myself to sink into bed.
As I lay awake, I began to think. Today was Saturday. Starting Monday, Alyson Greene, cousin to the Rosen boys (or so the story was), would start Junior year at Aspen High School. I sighed. I didn't even remember what a real school was like anymore, after years of private tutoring. I rolled over onto my side, glancing at my window. Even through the curtains that obscured it, I could tell the sky was dark, filled with fitful clouds. It was going to rain the next three days, most likely. I flinched inwardly at that thought. Finally, I began to feel the tears stinging my eyes. I didn't try to stop them; I had been holding them in all day. Better to cry now than at school. And Alyson Greene didn't cry. But Delanie Rosen did. |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
![The Doll Palace Home
[Where Cartoon Dolls Live]](http://ww2.thedollpalace.com/images/tdp_banner.gif)
