-Author Note: I wrote this one day sitting in Study Hall, the clock ticking so slow I was actually Considering suicide with my pencil. I then thought just to sit down and write with pen and paper, like the olden times before computers and technology and so Blood Diamonds was born, well the first chapter at least, with a few tweaks and word switches it was amazing. Please, PLEASE, PLEASE review! And do not steal this, this is mine. I put my time and effort into it making it readable and presentable.
Without furthermore, I give you Blood Diamonds
"Guess who?" a voice chimes from behind me, covering my eyes.
I already know its Caitlin. Her strong perfume clouding up my nose and making my eyes water.
"Come on! We're going to be late!" she whines, still flooding my vision with her tan skin and bright pink plastic ring.
"Uh…I don't know. Paris Hilton?" I say, knowing that is the last person on Earth she'd want to be mistaken as.
"Ew! No!" She says, unveiling my eyes to the normal High School Gym that I had been sitting in.
She looks at me, her big brown doe eyes inspecting my long blond hair and purple-blue eyes. Her eyes scroll down to my Navy Blue sweatshirt and long, dark skinny jeans.
"What's wrong, Bella?" she asks, taking a seat next to me on the bleachers as I slip my diary under my thigh, trying to hide it from her view.
"I—I can't tell you, Caitlin. It's too horrible to think about, I'm sorry, Caitlin." I look down, clenching my fist hard, holding back the tears that want to come.
"Please?" she chides.
I shake my head no, tears welling up in my eyes as the late bell rings.
I don't care anyways though. My brother had just died from the war in Iraq; I didn't care about the world or anything for that matter.
I wasn't Isabella Marie Hernandez anymore; I was a girl who had lost, like many others.
Caitlin sits up, clearly annoyed with me. Her brown eyes roll angrily as she walks away from me.
I take my diary out and check twice if there are any people or passers and reassure myself I'm alone and I cry.
I pull my knees to my chest and bury my face in my jeans. Hot tears soak my cheeks, and I can tell my mascara is running, but I make no attempt to fix it.
I hear someone and panic, not wanting to be seen found alone, crying at my high school. I was already the freak, the one everyone avoided and talked about.
I look for an escape, and run to the equipment room and wedge myself in between a shelf and wall, and I sit, balling up my knees and arms.
The footsteps stop in the middle of the gym and head into the Equipment room, and I stop breathing.
The footsteps reach the crevice I am hiding in and a boy leans down, looking at me. His light blue eyes lined with a Navy blue stare into mine as her raises an eyebrow at me, in one of his hands holds my diary.
"I think this is yours," he says, his voice making my head clear, making me forget about my tragedy.
He hands me my black velvet book and offers me a hand, and I take it, mesmerized by the way his face is, the angelic quality making me nauseas.
"Why?" he asks me as we sit down on the bleachers.
"My brother was shot dead this morning in the Iraq war."
He looks at me, his brown hair catching the breeze that was drifting down from the overhead windows. "I'm so sorry."
I look down to my knees, my black Converse staring back at me. "It's not your fault."
"I didn't catch your name," he says, looking at my eyes, making my head feel woozy.
"Bella Hernandez. You?" I smile, but behind the smile I am wondering what a beautiful boy would want with Mystic Falls most deranged, anti-social teenager.
"Damon Auguste, I'm new here. I just moved from New Mexico."
I smile, looking into his eyes, hoping this moment would always stay with me throughout my life.
I look into the window, shocked to see a deep grey cloud and sigh. Mystic Falls was known for its abnormal weather patterns.
It's after school and I stand, leaning on my green mustang, waiting for Caitlin and Ryan, our usual after school routine.
I see Caitlin, her blond hair swaying the wind as Ryan follows his hand in Caitlin's. She says something to Ryan and I can tell he is faking the laugh he is doing.
Caitlin approached me, her eyes looking over my hunched body. "Omigod! Bella! There's some smoking hot kid named Damon who just moved here! I heard Leah talking about him and then she told Rachel and Rachel being the bitch she is going all out to impress him."
I let her ramble on as I scope the parking lot, looking for Damon and my eyes find him, leaning against a shiny black BMW, Rachel Reilly standing next to him, her shirt so low and her shorts so tiny she'd actually figure out that boys only like her for her assets.
"Bella?" Caitlin says, poking my arm as I refocus on reality.
She looks at Damon and smiles. "Girl, you got it bad," she says, shoving me forward as Damon catches my eyes and smiles, his blue eyes hinting on something I can't quite make out.
"He's staring at you, Bella!" she says, her voice in the high squeaky tone she saves for life's most exciting moments.
Ryan stares at me, his eyes showing how annoyed and detached he is from the conversation me and Caitlin are in. "Who cares."
She huffs at me. "Please tell me you're kidding," she says, kicking my ankle.
"You should be. Now go up to him and talk to him!"
"No. I don't like him."
"Really, Bella, really?" she says, sounding delusional.
"I need to get home, my dad and my brother have some…things to do," I say, opening the door to my car and getting in.
"Ugh. Bella," I hear Caitlin tell Ryan as she takes off her coat exposing her extremely low cut shirt. Typical Caitlin.
I drive away, annoyed. My mind elsewhere and I remember something particular about Damon.
I've seen him before, those eyes.
I drive forward to the familiar four way cross street with the abnormally timed stop light and wait for my turn to go.
I watch the cars go by, lives in such a rush they can't stop to realize what a mess they are. How we just rush by and never look into the real details, the things we always seem to miss out on.
I know when I get home there will be tears and screaming for my brother, but I will stay calm. I know it was fate, but somehow something is telling me to scream and run away from my fears instead of face them.
The light goes green and I head to my house, the first house on the right in Mystic Falls Manor, where the rich and snobby live.
No one would suspect someone as poorly dressed and mute as I am would live in such a rich neighborhood. I don't get it though, the fact that people are judged for something they can not control.
I turn to the Gatekeeper, Kerry, and tell her my name and she lets me through and I turn into my driveway, aware of how all the lights are dimmed, making a depressing atmosphere.
I take my keys from the ignition and open the door, happy to be back home where everything and anything I did wasn't judged. I walk up to the door, taking my house keys from back pocket and opening my door.
I look around, feeling a presence. A presence so strong I take a step back. The lights slowly dim down, all the way down and I call out.
"Dad? Riley?" I look around for my dad or my brother.
I drop my backpack on the floor and don't even bother to take my shoes off and walk into the living room, the windows over looking our private lake.
I see my dad on the dock, his head in his hands and I walk to the back door and slide it open noiselessly and walk over to him and sit down.
"Bella," he says, his hand taking mine.
"Dad, is Liam?" I say, regretting saying my dead brother's name.
I look at the lake, the ripples moving harmlessly across the water making me wish I was a kid again. A kid who was carefree and normal.
We both sit there and he turns to me, his blue eyes sparkling with wetness. "I'm going away for a year," he says, I can see the hesitant response in his eyes, his longing to stay.
"W-what?" I stutter.
"I'm going to California with Riley," he says, more firm and fatherly this time.
I look at him, knowing my face is deceiving my thoughts. "Why?"
"I think me and your brother need some time to be boys, so we're going to the summer house," he tells me.
I am struck, but I know better than to argue. "So…I'm going to be alone?" I say, more shaken then I want it to sound.
"Stella is going to come over and check on you in the morning and every night at eight," he tells me, addressing me and my brother's childhood nanny.
"Other than that?"
"Yes, you will alone."
I stand up, and nod, and turn back to the house, tears streaming my cheeks. Was I not wanted now?
I strip down and go to my bathroom that is connected to my room and turn the shower on to hot and sit down in the corner, the steam making my mirror fog up.
Alone? A year?
And Damon? What would I do about him? It seemed every time we meet eyes I grow warm, my mind clearing. I couldn't deny his beauty, tall, immensely muscular, brown hair with a blond streak across his side swept hair, his blue eyes…
I wash my hair quickly and pull it up into a pony tail. I get dressed in my room, my Victoria Secret tank top and shorts, blue and green, making my eyes pop.
I sit down on my bed, my Apple Mac laptop in my lap and I check my email, looking for one specific person from my old home in Oregon.
I look through my messages from my Aunt Lauren, Stacia, a childhood friend, and Jamie, another friend, and find Dominic's message at the bottom and smile
I miss you so much! Math is not the same without your arithmetical ways that make me proud to be your best friend.
Guess what?! I got myself a girlfriend. Mhm. Be jealous.
I laugh, he always did say be jealous after everything.
And I got a girlfriend! Her name is Mary and she's one of the best things that has ever happened to me since me and you! Sorry for the reference haha.
But my mom caught us making out, like seriously hard core making out and she was all like 'Dominic! If I catch you doing that again this house that girl will never be aloud in this house again!'
Type me back soon Bells,
I laugh, and begin to type him back a short message about how I miss him and about how cool it is he has a girlfriend, being careful to avoid my terrible story and about my one year's stay totally alone.
I type in my Video Blog website address and click on the 'Make a New Vlog' and go to the video maker on my Mac.
I focus the settings, making sure I look right and press record.
"Hey! It's Bella, again," I laugh, it sounds more fake than real, "I've been having a really rough week…My brother just died in the Iraqi war and my dad told me him and my brother are going to California to our summer house to spend some man time together meaning I will be totally alone for the next year," I say, and look how many viewers are watching, and see only one.
I click the off button and look around my page and a chat menu comes up.
You won't be sad forever, Isabella.
I look over the message, wondering who and why they wrote it. I take a deep breath and type back.
It's Bella, and yes, I probably always will, but thanks for the unneeded sympathy.
I wait for a response and him and he quickly types back.
Isabella, you won't be sad forever. Give it some time and you will be too happy to express in any form of words.
I begin to type my response, starting with an obnoxious Bella in capitals, but he logs off.
I huff, annoyed and out my laptop on the end of my bed and go into my brother's room.
"Riley?" I say, knocking on the door.
"Come on in," he says, his fifteen year old voice sounding from inside the room.
I rattle the door to find it's locked. "It's locked."
I hear him grunt and I hear a click and he stands in front of me, his low cut Hollister jeans and Zumi's tee-shirt show he's going through a new phase. The skater dude phase.
I see his suitcase on his bed and clothes thrown on his cherry wood floor.
"Nice," I say, taking a seat next to his suitcase on his bed and extending my feet out, stretching,
"Yo, Dude, get of my crib's bed," he says, his voice sounding slightly confused with his choice of deranged vocabulary.
"Riley, it's me you don't have to act cool. I'm your sister," I say, looking at his once again change room. Instead of basketball players on posters around his lime green walls now hangs a deck from his first skateboard, which he failed to ride and ended up in the hospital. Around it looked like creepy photos of girls in thongs and lingerie and skateboarding photos.
"Wait until dad sees your room, he's going to shank you," I say, feeling uncomfortable with pictures of half naked sluts staring at me.
"That's why my crib's door was locked, dudette."
I groan, knowing this phase is going to be worse than the Rocker stage. "No, bro, get yo crib's door unlocked so your 'rents can ground you, dude," I say, using a bad impression of him.
"Ew, Bella, that's annoying," he says, throwing a shirt into his suitcase and almost whacking me in the head with it.
"Okay, I'll talk normal. I can't believe dad is dragging me to the summer house, ugh. I want to stay here and with you, surprisingly, Tom, and Josh. And would if someone gets Brittney while I'm away!" he says, throwing a pair of boxers in the direction of his suitcase, but miss-aiming and chucking them in my face.
He laughs as I give him a death glare.
"I'll miss you," I say.
"I will too," he says, turning to me as I hug him.
"What time are you guys leaving?"
"Tonight at eight, departure at ten," he said, throwing a pair of jeans that I avoid slimly.
"Well…I have to go finish Trig homework. Can I have one more hug?" I say, reaching out my arms.
"No! Bro! Not cool, your cramping yo style," he says.
I laugh and pull a picture off the wall of a blond with her hair covering her boobs and a lace panty on and I throw it at him.
"Yo, dude! Get this out of your room before yo parents send you to the slamma," I say, and walk out the door, laughing silently to myself and head to my room to start my Trig and English homework, unwillingly.