A/N: Ok, so its 1:07 in the morning and i have been helplessly drawn to my computer screen sense i got off work today at 6. Yes, I'm addicted. Its bad. I written before, but never for Twilight so this i would say is not my first fanfiction but the first in about a year probably. And the first for Twilight. So hang in there, as this is a one shot, i'm sure there will be more to come, which, i promise you, should get better. Betas are welcome... please!
Just heads up, I got kind of annoyed at the fact that half of Breaking Dawn was in Jacob's POW, so basically what this is, is page 325 of Breaking Dawn in Edward's POW. So read? i guess.. and comment please. It makes me feel good, even if its not the best.
Update 11/20/12: So I guess I never really thought about coming back to a story 4 years later, or that I would even be writing 4 years later, but here I am, 20 years old, 5/8 of the way towards my first degree, scarfing down ramen like the good college student that I am and updating the twilight fanfiction that I wrote when I was 16. Welp, here goes nothing; the updated Perdition:
And as always, Twilight, characters and all (in addition to the few lines I borrowed from the book), belong to Stephenie Meyer.
As I stared down at my wife, I wondered, what kind of monster must I be? This thing, my child, a part of me, was ripping her apart, killing her from the inside out. As much as it hurts watching, helpless, as the woman who holds my heart lay dying on the pristine white couch, I believe what hurts worse than anything is knowing that I did this. That I am the cause of her agony. Because of my beyond foolish mistake the love of my life is lying on a couch right now, fighting for what little life she has left while I sit next to her contemplating the way in which I am going to leave this life behind her if she fails.
It's not the thing's fault though. It is in fact a part of me, no doubt inheriting its father's cruel and inhuman practices. It knows no better. I did. I quickly push this thought out of my head. Thinking of it in that way makes it seem real. How horrific it seems it to want it dead, just to let the beautiful woman I love live?
God, listen to me. What am I saying? Here I am thinking about this thing dead- wanting it to be gone. If this works anyway close to the conventional process of conception and it is, in fact, a child, then it is every bit a part of Bella as it is a part of me. If only there was a way to scratch out my part in this. Scratch out the immoral, soulless part and leave simply Bella. As much as it pains me to even think about life without her, a big part of me is wishing that some change of fate had occurred, thinking that it would be a lot easier on her if this was anyone else's. If it was any other person's child she would not be fighting for her life at this very moment. It would not be a part of me. A monster. Instead it would be a beautiful human child. A child that would cause her very little unbearable pain, a child that would have no hope of killing her.
I feel horrible. If I'm not a grotesque horrible…being, then what could explain this hideous confusion taking over my mind at this very moment? On one hand I'm thinking how much loathe this child, for even being in existence. For hurting my Bella. And then on the other I feel a yearning for it, the fetus that is gradually destroying my love, my wife. What kind of thing thinks this way?
I can hear it in their minds. Jacob's mostly. He thinks I'm doing this for some selfish reasoning. As if I need one more thing in my life that would cause of her pain. As if I wouldn't do anything for my Bella. Except this. For some irrational reason, Bella loves the thing inside of her and to destroy it would be to destroy Bella and I can't damage her any more than I already have. Carlisle is worried. Granted he has showed this emotion before, and with good reason, but never to this extent. He's always been one of the most optimistic people I know. This doubt is certainly not good at all. Not from him. Of course, right up with him is Esme. Naturally, being the closest thing to a mother I have, she is doing all she can to lift my spirits. But even she can't change anything. Not now.
Then something incomprehensible hits me. As much I'm used to seeing images and thoughts, this little drive knocks me off guard. At first I'm not sure what just occurred. "Did you say something?" I asked Bella. She answers me, suddenly aware of a change. Not good or bad, but a change. I dismiss it as quickly as it came, hoping to make her forget, not to worry her any more than I already had.
Seconds later, another one hit me; the exact same, not a voice or a feeling but something in between. It felt more like excitement, or maybe need, perhaps even love but it seemed as if it was screaming for more. I realize that the sudden surge has come from someone. A person. Somebody familiar but not someone I know, not someone I recognize.
Perhaps, something happened, a glitch. I wondered silently if maybe for a brief moment if I was now able to feel Bella's thoughts. Feel them but not hear them.
"What are you thinking about right now?" I asked urgently.
"Nothing. What's going on?" she questioned, as concern drove through her voice.
"What were you thinking about a minute ago?" I asked her; desperate to find out exactly what was happening.
"Just… Esme's Island. And feathers." Even though I could not hear her thoughts, I was still enough in tune with my wife to sense the emotion, and it was definitely not the same.
And then it hits me. The feeling, the little attempts at communication, didn't come from Bella, or anyone else I could see in the room. What it came from was inside Bella. It came from my child.
After I discovered the source, I was now striving to discover the trigger. I wanted, no I needed to hear it again. Then it dawned on me. Of course! A child can hear, even inside the womb, and recognize its own mother's voice. Wouldn't my child be capable of at least that?
"Say something else," I pleaded with Bella. I was desperate.
"Like what? Edward, what's going on?" she asked, innocently enough but the terror in her voice screamed through.
And there it was again, only stronger this time. More exact. Excitement radiated through me. The tiny voice, mimicking my own thoughts, wanted more, craved more.
"The f-" I caught myself, not wanting to even think of the thoughts that were running through my head only a moment ago. "It…" again I restrained, gasping for the word, "the baby likes the sound of your voice."
That was my child. My baby. As I felt it… understood it, I suddenly felt ashamed of myself for even thinking of it… him in such a way. He was my baby. Innocent and perfect.