What if Bella and Edward hated each other, but after a fatal incident the other was all they had? What if they had to stay together in order to survive? What if where she thought
she would be more lost than ever... she would really find herself?
Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer
Into My Soul
I opened my eyes after the last buzz. “Y-yes?”
“I’m sorry to wake you up, but we are serving dinner. Chicken or pasta?” A perfect blonde flight attendant asked from the corridor. Her face had loads of make up, but the doll like features could be seen nevertheless.
I sighed heavily, sleep wasn’t something that came so easily for me. And now it was ruined for chicken or pasta of an old plane going through the Pacific. Perfect.
“Umm, I’m not really hungry…,” I suppressed a yawned that was coming off my lips. I could be many things, but unkind wasn’t one.
“So now you are an anorexic too?” The sarcastic voice was too familiar to be unrecognized. And even if I clenched my nails to the sides of my blue seat, I made my best for my face to remain even.
“Chicken is fine,” I muttered through my teeth, not taking my eyes off the lady’s face.
A sarcastic guffaw resounded at my back but I continued as if nothing had happened.
“Of course,” the lady answered, kindly. Though I could see the questions in her eyes as she stared at us.
She gave me the plastic tray and with that, she continued the journey through the other passengers, asking as if she were a robot, the same words she had first asked me.
“I can’t believe you didn’t order pasta.” The same annoying voice mumbled at my back. I tried again to contain the rage, but it was becoming more impossible with every second passing by.
I took the solid alcohol from my bag beside me, and cleaned my hands twice before starting my meal. I was the only passenger with a seat beside them free, but being my antisocial self, it was the best that could have happened to me.
“The pasta is so delicious, wanna taste?” I heard that same annoying voice challenging from behind. Before I could even blink, I had a fork and some spaghetti beside my right cheek.
I tried to close my eyes, but it had been too much. “Jesus Christ, Edward! Would you ever stop it?!” I turned around with a body that wasn’t mine, but I was sick of him. I was sick of everything.
His eyes widened unexpectedly with my sudden action, and then, an over sweet smiled touched his lips. “Hey there, little sister. I thought a mouse had eaten your tongue.” He approximated the fork to my mouth. “Wanna taste?”
I shot him a killing look and then, gaining conscience of how immature my act had been, I went back to my previous posture. “I’m not your sister,” I muttered under my breath and continued with my horrendous chicken.
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