A Single Drop of Blood
My Version of "A Single Breath" (when I couldn't find the original)
She read Romeo and Juliet in her room, thinking of how silly and fickle they are. Still, she's enraptured. So enraptured, in fact, that she has somehow accidentally pricked her finger on the page's end.
"Ouch," Bella murmured, inhaling sharply, looking curiously at the offending finger. After a thorough inspection, she couldn't see any injury. Nonetheless, she gingerly set the classic down.
She froze, and laughed to herself, "Just like me to find a way to make a book dangerous." She glanced furtively at the window, almost sheepishly. Despite the time they'd spent together, she still occasionally felt uncertain, worried about those outbursts that came when she revealed too much of her affection.
Funny, how even knowing that Edward wasn't home, she still felt that need to protect him from his own self-hatred. His own incessant need to protect her. Funny, imagining him trying to protect her from her own book.
Put me behind padded walls, Edward, she giggled silently to herself. Maybe I should wear gloves. She snorted, thinking of Romeo's slightly overdramatic (and overly sensual) "glove monologue."
Bella sat still on her bed for a moment, absent-mindedly twisting her hands. With a final sheepish glance at the window, she retired to the bathroom and gazed at her reflection as she prepared to sleep.
I know what you're waiting for, she told the brunette angrily brushing her teeth in the mirror. She spit and returned to her room, tossing herself on the bed with a thud. Still, she couldn't quite right the disappointment.
He's not coming tonight, and that's okay, too. You'll see him tomorrow. Already tucked in bed by this point, she tucked her hands under the pillow and drew it in to her chest.
Fetal position. Is this really what she must resort to when he was away?
In anger, she jerked her legs out, sprawling her four limbs over the expanse of the bed, jutting her chin out just a tad with determination.
The effort was ruined, however, when two of the four limbs hit something ice-cold. Instinctively jerking away, she began to fall off the other end of the bed.
"Caught ya." A soft snicker filled the room, a smile audible in it's tenor. Two frozen wires held her close to her rock, and she slowly breathed in his scent.
"How are you?" she murmured.
He didn't respond, silently setting her back down on the bed.
"What is it?" she demanded, feeling a strange sense of urgency. Fumbling for the light, she somehow brushed her hand over his lips instead. She could hear his breath catch.
The light turned on. "Edward, what is it?" she demanded.
He frowned at her, his eyes flickering over every inch of her body. "I was just going to ask you the same thing."
"What do you mean? I'm fine," she laughed, but it fell flat. So confused by his sudden intensity. Searching his deep onyx eyes, she whispered, "Should I be?"
He ran his hands through his hair, agitated. "Of course not, no. Everything's fine. I must have just been paranoid."
"Well, and it's been so long since you've hunted, too," she murmured, sadly tracing the deep violet crowding his eyes. "Are you in pain?"
They both already knew the answer. He just looked at her for a moment, hesitating, and then he pulled her in for an embrace, tucking her head in the base of his neck. "Silly Bella," he laughed silently, peeking down at her. "You are my greatest painkiller."
She blushed crimson; he lifted her chin. Smiling slightly, he gently pressed his lips against hers.
When Edward kissed Bella, he always did his best to be ice. He knew her fire, and there could only be so much time before she'd melt his resolve.
I may not be able to kiss you as a man might, but I will hold to you as only a lover may, he ruminated as he pulled away, keeping his fingers firmly interlocked with some twisted way, it was almost like the unity of their hands could somehow forgive the divisive war that was raging within the rest of his body.
But it couldn't forgive that. And he couldn't forget that.
He sighed, gently squeezing her hands.
"Ouch," Bella murmurs, inhaling sharply, looking at the offending finger for the second time that evening.
While the first had seemed harmless, the second was horrific.
The both watched in terror as a small but very significant bead of blood pooled on Bella's fingertip.
Neither of the two dared to move, but most definitely neither dared to breath.
Edward's mind was in tumult. Here he was with the girl, the only girl in the world, and she was bleeding right in front of him. Within this single moment, his heart uttered a million prayers of supplication. He wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something. He wanted to run far, far away, yet he knew that if he moved a single muscle, he'd be gone.
Bella was trying so hard. She could not move, she could only gaze in horror at the horribly precarious drop of blood. Bella was not an eternal being; there would only be so long she could last without air. Time was running out. She slowly, slowly shifted her gaze to Edward's eye's. She knew what this would do to him. She could see it all so plain in his eyes- the fear, pain, horror, and hunger. There was a war going on inside of him, and they both knew which one would win. He was trying so hard. So, so, so hard. He felt like his insides were shattering.
Nonononononono.
Please please please please.
Bellabellabellabellabella.
Oh no oh no oh no oh no.
Bella couldn't hold on any longer. She caught his horror-struck gaze, pulling in a gasp for breath, slowly blinking. I love you. She never had the chance to speak the words.
Before her eyes had even closed, she could see his countenance of horror disappear behind a mask of pure bestiality. Before her eyes had yet opened, she could feel him inside her.
She could feel her life slipping through the small incision on the pad of her finger, and she knew. The Edward she knew was gone.
She'd let him leave.
She loved him that much.
Dong.
Dong.
Dong.
The two hands turn to twelve and a woman could be heard screaming, "Edward, don't!" You could almost hear a family falling apart.
The hidden figure did not even process these events. There was no context. There was no meaning anymore. Existence had already ceased without her. "La tua cantante," they'd called it. What a sick joke.
He took one shimmering step into the light. In the same second, he lifted his eyes to the sun, revealing his darkest truth.
It turns out that a protector—whether it be Edward, a glove, or a padded room—would have been quite a prudent idea, indeed.
As his eyes rolled back to view the sun, you could almost catch a glimpse of it:
Edward Cullen's eyes were a vibrant and violent red.
AN: Please note that this is not an original story. It was an attempt to learn from one of my favorite one-shots, ever. Please read the original! It is "A Single Breath" by LeighAnn Brewer. I DO NOT OWN THIS STORY.