Isabella Swan died on her 18th birthday, killed by Jasper, but she didn't blame him, she knew the truth. 50 years after her death, the Cullen's return to Forks to be closer with her spirit. What they don't realise it that they'll be a whole lot closer to Bella, especially when she appears in the flesh, with her eyes on a certain Cullen.
Bella will not be as shy and weak like in the books. She'll be more forward and confident and obviously will have something up with her.
I don't really want to do a disclaimer, but I might as well...I don't own any characters that are familiar, all credit goes to Stephenie.
Prologue.
I could only see her from the side, but she was still beautiful. Her head was turned away from me, staring up at the brown bricks of Forks High. Her amazingly defined thighs were practically bursting out of her grey denim, skinny jeans. They ended just before her ankles, leaving a piece of deliciously pale skin on show, her sky blue open-toed heels elevated her more of the ground. Four inches of her light blue tank top, peaks underneath a grey suit jacket, that's undone.
Her hair, god, her gorgeous blonde locks. The top of it had been combed back behind her head, and into a tight pony tail. While the rest was left out and hung past her shoulders in silky smooth curls. Her beautiful face was now slowly inching towards me, when her eyes met mine, I felt it. Her liquid golden eyes pierced through mine, becoming the window into her soul and I was drifting fast into it.
God, I felt it. Right down in my core. I ignored the shocked and scared expressions of her siblings, people that were once my family, I concentrated on her as I walked closer. When I was within reaching distance, I left my right palm rest against her waist, letting my hand absorb her cool skin and spoke.
"Soon, baby."
I carried on walking, up the stairs of the newly refurbished Forks High, with a huge smile upon my face. Oh yes, very soon.
I couldn't wait, she was mine and no one could stop me from reaching out and taking her.
I'll have you putty in my arms, Rosalie.
Reviews are like Rosalie Hale, heaven.