Title of Story: Murder House

Rating: M

Pairing: Edward

Genre: Horror

Word Count: 3586

Story Summary: Three gruesome murders were committed there over forty years ago. It has remained vacant and for sale since that night, but after all that time, someone is moving in. Who is the newest resident of Forks, and will Edward be able to survive his neighbor?

Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

In early August the leaves are still green; the weather isn't ready for fall yet. Today, it's wet and in the mid-seventies, but it's always wet in Forks, Washington. At least it's warm right now.

My lungs are burning from the three-mile run that I complete every day before going into work. I can see the cool-down mark that I have picked out for myself coming up in the distance. It's a vacant black house that gives off the creepiest vibe, mostly due to its history. Just a little over forty years ago, an entire family was murdered there. I gradually slow down the closer I get to it. There are many different legends of the murder house, as there tends to be in a small town where nothing happens. Even now, after forty years, this house remains the town gossip.

It is said that the son was out hiking in the woods behind the house, coming home around ten at night. When he entered the house, he grabbed his father's shotgun, and then the fourteen-year-old shot his father first, followed by his mother in quick succession. His sixteen-year-old sister tried to run for it, but he shot her at the front door.

When the cops arrived, it was said the teenager was tracing patterns in his family's splattered blood. He never spoke. It's rumored that the kid didn't ever speak again after that night. The questions of why he killed his family and how he was able to get the gun without his parents noticing were never answered, and probably never will be.

The murder house, as it's been named in our uneventful town, hasn't been lived in since. The for-sale sign hung year after year, but no one in their right mind wants to live in a house with such a history.

Stopping short in front of the house, my jaw drops. The for sale sign is missing. Holy shit, someone is going to live here. Putting my arms up and clasping my hands on the back of my head, I continue walking for slightly less than five minutes to where I live next door. Looks like I'm getting neighbors. Not being able to help myself, I look back, still in awe that someone bought the murder house.

It's seven a.m. now, so I take a quick shower before heading out to the office and forgetting all about the missing sign. My dad greets me at the employee entrance. "Are you ready for all the colds?"

I laugh; being the only pediatrician in Forks, and it being the cold and flu season, the office gets flooded with all the parents wanting to make sure their kids are okay.

My dad is Carlisle Cullen, a general practitioner and one of the pillars of our community. At fifty-two years of age his hair is still blonde, his eyes still a twinkling green. Everyone loves my dad and his jokes that make everyone laugh. He's the reason I became a doctor.

"Ah, son, you know it's true; you'll get the little ones while I get the older, crankier ones."

Laughing more, I reply, "You can keep the cranky ones. I enjoy the little monsters and their sticky fingers."

His head falls back and he laughs as we enter the building, ready to tend to our patients. It isn't long before our waiting rooms are filled with talk of the black house at the edge of town. Many of the parents ask me if it's true, knowing the house neighbors mine.

"The for sale sign was missing this morning," I confirm to all those that ask.

Of course, the gossip flies in a small town, and soon everyone is speculating on who could be moving in. Some say it's the killer coming home, others say it's a serial killer fanatic, because who else would want a house with that kind of story behind it. As always, none of the gossips are a reliable source of information.

Two weeks later, different types of workers begin to enter the house. When the news hits the town, all of my siblings and their significant others wind up at my house to help me spy on the murder house and its progress. Alice is my younger sister by a year exactly; we share the same birthday. She's five-two with dark brown hair that reaches her shoulders, and she's employed as Forks Elementary's principal. Her husband, Jasper, is about my height of six foot two with shaggy blonde hair landing just above his ears, which the high school principal constantly begs to him to cut. Jasper is the high school's history teacher, so he's supposed to set an example. Together, he and Alice have one three-year-old son, Jackson, who is currently residing on his mom's hip as she peeks out my window. Next to her is my sister-in-law, Rose. She's five-ten with sharp blue eyes and a mouth that isn't afraid to put people in their place. She owns the automotive shop in town. My brother, Emmett, is two years older than me and is the varsity football coach and gym teacher at the high school. They have a set of twin six-year-old girls, Maxine and Madison, and a two-year-old son, Tyler.

They're all currently using my big oaf of a brother as a jungle gym in the middle of my living room while the women make comments about what's going on at the murder house.

"They must be gutting the place," Rose murmurs to Alice.

Alice hums. "Well, I would hope so. I hear that it was never cleaned up after the family was killed."

Two weeks later on my jog, I see a big moving van awkwardly backing into the driveway of the murder house. Not being able to stop myself, I lean against the black metal fence that surrounds the dark, foreboding house. I desperately want to get a glimpse of the person who bought it. Many images pour into my head, like a man with black clothes and dark eyes, or a woman with fifty cats and names for all of them. None of these images compare to what climbs out of the truck. A baby face with wide chocolate eyes is what I'm greeted with as she takes me in from across the yard. She can't be more than five-five. Her hair's up in a ponytail, swaying as she slams the door to the moving van.

"Hi, can I help you?" Her voice is cautious as she approaches me.

Realizing that I probably look like the town creep gawking at her, I smile charmingly. "Sorry, I don't mean to startle you, but I couldn't help but stop and say hi when I saw the truck pulling in." Stepping closer to her, I put out my hand. "Dr. Edward Cullen, I'm the house just next door. I guess you can call me neighbor."

She looks back at the truck, biting her lip before turning back to me. She doesn't take my hand, causing me to drop it. "Nice to meet you, but I have a lot of stuff to do." She walks away without bothering to look back.

I can't help but think about how rude she just was.

The town hasn't had this much to talk about in forty years. Everywhere the newcomer goes, all eyes are on her as they try to figure who she is and why she would want to live in the murder house. No one knows her name; she didn't sign up anywhere, not even at the post office. Who the hell is she?

The strange woman remains on my mind as I walk into one of my exam rooms ready to meet a new patient, Jules Black. I smile and open the door to see my neighbor and a five-year-old girl.

"Hi, Miss Jules, I'm Dr. Edward." I decide to ignore her mother and simply greet the cute little girl on my table.

Her dimples pop out as she smiles. "Hi, Dr. Edward."

I know why she's here, but it's always fun to hear it from them. "Why are you here today, little princess?"

She throws her hands up dramatically as I take a seat on my stool. "My old school lost my doctor stuff so before I can start here at my new school, you have to write down that I'm healthy."

I watch my neighbor smile before her hand comes up to her mouth.

"What, they lost it?" I pull a silly face that makes her giggle.

"They did!"

Taking out my stethoscope, I say, "I guess I better start with your lungs. This is going to be a little cold," I warn her as I put it on her back. "Big breath, then let it out."

As I'm checking my new patient's lungs and heart, her mother—I'm guessing, seeing as they have the same eyes and bone structure—doesn't say anything, she just smiles at her daughter. It isn't much longer before they're done and leave the office. Every nurse and patient begins talking about them. The rumors fly, like she's running from the law because she kidnapped the girl, because why else had no one seen her before now.

As much as I want to hear more of the different stories people come up with, something really doesn't settle with me about her.

Being the nosy neighbor that I usually am not, I begin to watch her during the day while I'm home or on a jog, then I add watching her at night. She doesn't do much but hide in her house, clean up the yard, and play with Jules. What I do notice is that she's always looking over her shoulder, almost as if she's waiting for someone to come and snatch everything away.

One day in October I decide to quit watching her from afar. I stop at her fence as she's out weeding one morning. "Good morning," I call out to her.

She jumps a mile in the air, her hand on her heart. There are unshed tears in her eyes as she looks at me.

Feeling like an ass, I slowly walk closer. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

She gives a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "It's okay." She clears her throat. "Good morning to you, too."

I look around, seeing much of the weeds gone and the trees trimmed. The place doesn't have quite the death vibe as it had once before. "Looking really good."

She blushes, letting her hair fall into her face as she looks down. "Thanks."

The house is still painted black, reminding me of the darkness that happened there. "Do you know the history?"

Biting her bottom lip, she looks up at the house, and something passes quickly over her face before she answers without looking at me. "Yeah, I do."

Really looking at the woman before me, I see she's beautiful, and her brown eyes are now looking at me expectantly. I clear my throat as the heat rises in my cheeks. "I'm not trying to be crude, just curious."

She pushes her hair out of her face. "I inherited it."

My brows knit together in confusion at her statement. "How is that possible?"

She sighs. "Just is."

I let it be and finish my walk home.

This becomes my routine, stopping every morning and talking to her just a bit. By the middle of October, she has a cup of coffee ready for me when I arrive, and I can safely say we've become friends. I learn that her name is Bella and she's a best-selling author. She was married to a marine who was killed in action.

One evening, I go to her house when Jules is staying with a friend. So many years of wanting to be inside of the murder house, and here I am. It's gorgeous with wood floors and warm colors, and nothing that I'd imagined throughout all these years.

Bella is wearing black leggings that perfectly sculpt her legs with a long orange tee. Her hair is braided off to the side, making her neck look enticing. "Nothing like you imagined?" She smiles, which she does more and more these days since we've become close. She still hasn't told me what she's running from, or given me an explanation of how she inherited the house.

I chuckle at her question. "No."

She gives me a tour of the infamous house. It appears so benign that I can't picture the horror that occurred. "You told me once you inherited the house."

She sits on her couch, tucking her feet underneath her. I sit next to her and get comfortable. "I'm Charlie Swan's daughter."

The name rings in my head over and over. Charlie Swan is the teen who killed his family. "How… how?" I stutter as I look at her closely.

"Mom was eccentric." Bella pauses for a moment before rolling her eyes. "She had this idea in her head that she should become a penpal to lonely convicts." A small chuckle falls from her lips. "He was the only one to write back. Imagine that, a man that never speaks, but he writes. It was just a few letters before she started visiting him at the prison. After weekly visits of just talking to a blank wall, she 'fell in love' with his mysterious, never-speaking form." Bella shakes her head. "It was only a month into weekly visits that they got married. And another month later he had good behavior on his side, and they allowed conjugal visits." She waves at herself. "That's how I came to be."

"Well, I'm glad you came to be, but how did you get the house?" Not being able to help myself, I take her hand into mine, kissing the back of it.

Her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of red. "Jules's father died, and I didn't want to be in our house anymore. When I was downsizing boxes, I found paperwork that stated that in the divorce between Charlie and my mom, she was given the house. I guess she never wanted it, and I can understand that given what happened here. I couldn't believe it, though; a perfectly good house just sitting somewhere, and I was in need of a change."

"Even though your father murdered your grandparents and aunt here," I murmur, looking around us and wondering where the bodies had once laid.

She sighs, looking around, too. "I think I honor them by living here and not giving in to the fear."

Cupping her cheek and leaning in, I come close to brushing my lips against hers. "You are the most amazing woman."

She pushes her lips against mine, and it's as if the world stops for that one moment. She pulls away, smiling.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," we say in unison, then we both laugh.

I tuck her under my arm. "What happened to your mom?"

"Cancer got her when I was eighteen." I can hear the sadness in her voice as she cuddles into my side.

We don't move forward that night, but I do sleep next to her, or at least I try to. The entire time, I hear creaks and moans coming from somewhere in the house. It's creepy as hell, like the house is cursed.

A week from Halloween, Jules is with my brother and sister-in-law at a corn maze while Bella and I buy pumpkins to take back home to carve for Halloween. As we put everything away at her house, an alert blares from the TV. Bella's face turns white as she stares at the screen, showing a news break announcing an escaped convict. It's Charlie Swan.

Her phone rings just a moment later, and state police inform her that they think he might be heading toward her, but not to worry because they'll catch him. I hold her close to me as she calms her nerves.

Without giving her room to argue, my family helps move her and Jules in with me the next day until he's caught.

Bella sighs one night as we climb into bed. "I don't know why he would come after me. I only ever met the man once."

I pull her to my chest and kiss the top of her head. "When did you meet him?"

"It was almost right after Jake died. I just wanted to connect with some form of family." Her whole body shudders. "I don't know how I came from him. His eyes were empty and cold. It was like looking at pure evil, and he didn't say anything to me, either. Just stared at me."

~MH~

Bella living with me is amazing. We're completely in sync, and seem to know exactly what each other wants or needs. Jules loves having me around. She and I spend time running around and playing. We've become a family unit.

Alice takes Jules to get ready for trick or treating on Halloween night. Bella and I are getting the pumpkins out and ready to be carved when she smacks her forehead. "Shit, I forgot the curving stuff at my house."

Setting the biggest pumpkin on the table, I say, "We'll just use what we did back in the day; crappy knives and our imaginations." I smile crookedly at her.

She rolls her eyes at me. "I'm going to go get it and be right back."

"I'll go with you." I grab my jacket.

"No, stay here, Alice and Jules will be back any time now."

Not having heard anything about Charlie's whereabouts, my stomach twists in knots at the idea of her going to that house alone. I rub the back of my neck, trying not to sound like an overprotective asshat. "I don't want you to be by yourself."

Bella smiles, pecking my lips. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes, tops."

I point at her. "If I don't see you walking back here in fifteen, I'll be bringing my gun."

She salutes me, knowing damn well I don't own a gun. "Yes, sir."

This time I roll my eyes at her ridiculousness.

Not being able to help my paranoia, I watch Bella from my window to make sure she gets inside her house okay. Turning away, I spread newspapers on the table and set the pumpkins on top.

Walking back over to the window, I can see her door open, but no Bella. By now, it's been longer than fifteen minutes.

The wind has picked up a little, forcing me to zip up my jacket as I fast-walk over to her house. Everything in my gut is telling me something is terribly wrong as I push the gate open and it makes a loud squawking noise. Leaves are rustling past my feet as I make it up the path to the open door. Peeking in, I don't see her.

"Bella," I call out to her as I walk in and look around.

The door slams shut behind me, making me jump and turn around.

Bella is standing in front of the door with a knife at her throat, and a tall mess of a man holding it. Just like she described to me, his eyes are black and cold; there's nothing in there. He's holding the knife so tightly against her throat that blood trickles down her porcelain skin. Her hands grip his forearms as she stares at me. I slip my hand in my back pocket, my other held up in front of me in placation.

"Y-you don't want to hurt your own daughter, d-do you?" My fingers fumble as I struggle to dial nine-one-one on the phone in my pocket. His face gives nothing away as he presses the knife closer to her throat. Praying that I managed to call emergency services and that they can hear me, I say loudly, "Charlie Swan, that is your daughter you're holding a knife to. You don't want to hurt your only child, do you?"

Bella's scared eyes never leave mine as I try to talk some sense into evil incarnate.

Something passes across her eyes, and a gut feeling tells me to be ready, but for what, I have no idea. Then it happens. Bella hits Charlie in the gut with her elbow, making him lower his arm away from her throat.

Rushing him before he can get ahold of her again, I manage to grab the knife. Bella screams as I tackle Charlie to the ground, and a hot pain shoots through my side. We grapple for what feels like forever, but as we come to a stop, I realize I stabbed him in the gut. I get up, stumbling a little and clutching my hand to my side.

Bella helps me steady myself, her cheeks stained with tears. "You're bleeding." She sniffles, putting pressure on my side.

Time seems to speed up again as the cops show up, and I'm eventually loaded into an ambulance. Through the open door, I see Bella leaning over his body. I swear I can see his lips move. I ask her what he said when she joins me in the back of the ambulance.

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

It would be months after the incident before Bella rolled over and tucked herself into my side. "He told me that it was my mother's fault."

I didn't say anything, I just hugged and kissed her.

We never set foot back into the Murder House.