Dusk - A Twilight Reimagining

4 - The Hidden Orchard

"Get a grip, Swan," she hissed under her breath. Her hands roughly tousled her hair to calm her staggered breaths as she bent down to clean the spaghetti off the wooden floors. "At least this isn't carpet."

Bella sighed as she returned her bowl to the sink and rummaged through the cabinets. She found bottles of lotion, food, sweets, a few vodka glasses, dog toys, hair products, and a whole bedroll in her quiet searching, but oddly no cleaning products. 

"Where in the world-" the young woman scratched at her nape as she stood, looking through another pair of cabinets. 

Then another.

And another.

Books, cooking supplies, living plants—she really couldn't explain that one—, drama magazines, DVDs, copious amounts of baking soda, dog poop bags, entire paintings, and candles but no cleaning products in sight.

"How is there not one spray bottle in the damn kitchen!" Bella groaned, the treasures of her scouring laying motionless at her feet. She would've continued to ransack the house in search of a single product that could be of use to her, she would've found one in her dad's bedroom, she would've cleaned up, would've eventually fallen into the serenity this house commanded.

But the night had an alternative fate for the green apple that just fell from its branch. It rolled to the edge of the steadfast wall and stepped away from its light, blessed land. A strange flash of red, a whisper of her name on the wind, lured her from safety. 

Bella Swan held a knife in one hand and her flashlight in the other. Rain pelted against her scalp and roared in her ears. Shivers crawled down her hands as her skin prickled with the cold, her sleek brown hair soaked. She carefully left the garden door ajar behind her, taking a wary step into the garden.

"WHO'S THERE?!" Bella yelled at the top of her lungs. The dark, overgrown branches from bushes her dad refused to tend to swung low in response, tempting her forward. They created shadowy figures out of their twisted limbs and feigned fear from her trembling voice. Bella huffed and took another step, raising her blade high. She scanned the garden, watching evil monsters drop their disguises—from shadows with foul intentions to dutiful vined guards protecting her from where her flashlight couldn't pierce.

The forest.

Bella wasn't the type to be scared. She wasn't the type to back off. She didn't spend the past five years fending for herself to admit when she bit off more than she could chew. No threat was too profound in Bella Swan's mind. 

She was no fucking coward, but admittedly, she was no genius either. 

Bella glanced back at her back door once to ensure it was still open for her inevitable retreat. It was. She ventured further into her garden, never straying from the small gravel path that led to the back gate. The young woman couldn't discern the difference between a crooked tree groaning in the distance and the rhythmic wet thud of footsteps approaching her. 

She reached the planked fenceline, alternating planks on both sides, creating a geometric ripple pattern. It was broken by a single swinging gate which didn't match the wave design and instead looked like something out of a barnyard. Bella shined her flashlight out through the forest, but all she saw were thick raindrops illuminated by the beam and a small sphere of the forest floor. 

Nothing. 

But she was sure. She was so sure there was something. Someone spoke her name. Someone from school? Cullen? Someone who knew her but apparently wanted to fuck with her. Anger burned in her chilled nose as she put her knife hand on the gate, the blade reflecting her flashlight.