In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
When his lips touch mine I know heaven is close. It sounds over dramatic and perhaps it is, but that doesn't stop it from being true. He holds the promise to another life. A life I have dreamed about. He is the worst possible person in the world for me. He will kill me. I know this, I accept this. I am not afraid of death, I have seen too much of it in my short lifetime.
Life on the other hand, life hurts. Life is filled with pain. People say they love you then betray you. People kiss you then slap you. People use you. People ignore you. People assume.
People laugh. People judge. People only think about people.
I like them. These creatures are not people. I don't need to worry if they are good or bad, I know they are bad. I don't trust them, they don't trust me. I spend my day surrounded by beautiful statues that breathe and talk. They are a different world, a world that doesn't care about me, a world that can't hurt me; like I said death isn't pain, living is.
His lips are not as cold as I imagined them to be. He is by far one of the more beautiful creatures. When he would wait for his meetings with the brothers I would stare at his lips. And his jaw. And his eyes. No man should have eyelashes like that. He notices, of course he did, but he never said anything. I only knew because those perfect lips would twist into that infuriating smirk.
The first time he talked to me, it took me a full minute to process what he was saying. He was leaving as I was forming a response, his laughter trailing behind him.
The second time, I was a bit more prepared. After all it was a standard question that I was prepared for and I answered it immediately.
The third time he leaned close to me. His bright red eyes were disarming rather than frightening. He was exotic and cold, playful yet dangerous. He talked, but somehow he knew I wasn't really listening. All I could do was hear the musical sound of his voice in that silky tone rather than the words he was saying. He talked like a story teller I realized after many more conversations. The sounds mattered more than the words; like the way one talks to a dog. I probably should have been insulted but I couldn't find it in myself to be indignant.
His hand moves from my shoulder to my neck. His thumb brushes my pulse. I know he can feel the rapid beating of my heart, my blood rushing through my body. His eyes are black, either with blood or lust I can't tell. I still can't believe he can desire me, but I don't question it any longer; he doesn't like that. His sweet breath intermingles with my overly hot breath. Everything about me and him are extremes. Me and him because that is what this is. It is not an us, not a we, just two people. Two people touching, kissing, exploring.
The first time he talked to me outside of the world of my desk was when I was in the elevator on my way in. We were alone and he held the door for me. He spoke and I tried to listen, but I was more focused on standing. It was the first time we were alone without a desk or a barrier between us. I was standing next to him, side by side, almost equals in a sense. I smelled his fresh breath and couldn't help but leaning into him. He laughed at me and tucked my hair behind my ear. The floor stopped moving and he ushered me out before walking in the opposite direction.
I hated him a little bit then. He was messing with my idea of all of them. They were suppose to be statues. Horrible, evil statues that kill. I can work for them because I appreciate their honesty in the whole business. They don't kill to make a better world, because god tells them to, they kill because they want to. Because they feed off of us. Somehow I can accept and appreciate this. People have been murdered for much less.
His kisses give me a courage I didn't know I had. My hands rise. One moves to join his hand on my face, the other travels along his arm, to his shoulder, until it is gripping his hair pulling him closer. I need more of him. More kisses, more sweetness, more ice. Someone moans, I can swear it comes from me but it is predatory, animalistic, surely it has to be his.
The next time I see him he is holding a rose. A beautiful ruby red rose that matches the color of his eyes. I am walking to the bathroom and he stops me. He doesn't talk or say anything, he stands there across from me. Slowly he holds out the rose. My hand moves forward but he pushes it away. Again he holds the rose out, this time I wait. He makes a big deal about removing each and every one of the thorns on the stem. Again I reach for it, and once again he pushes the rose away. This time I can tell he is laughing even though his face hasn't changed. He takes a step closer until I need to tilt my head up to see his face; very slowly he places the rose behind my ear. "Bella Gianna. Mi Bella Gianna," he whispers.
I stare up into his face until I can hear footsteps. In an instant he is gone and I am running into the restroom. It isn't until I look in the mirror I realize I am crying.
Touching leads to more. It becomes frenzied and rushed. My hands are everywhere on him, trying to move stone. He is focused determined. Constantly slowing what I try and rush. He explores languidly, he takes what is his, I can no longer deny it, never asking permission. At this point it would be useless to argue. I want this. Maybe I always have. I relax in his arms. There is a peace in letting go, in letting him lead me.
If Aro took notice of the flower he didn't say anything. Still I can't help but feel that I was being watched more carefully after that. Aro walked past me every day but never had he looked at me before, until that day. Now everyday he offers his ambiguous smiles, his chilling hushed words. Marcus and Caius still reserve their superiority, I am thankful to them.
"Miss Gianna", his whispering words haunt me, "have I ever told you how much you have pleased me with your work here. You are very discreet, I appreciate that."
I shivered at his words, like buckets of ice being poured straight onto my spine, and offered a stiff smile.
After Aro left he came to me again, but he didn't stay to talk. By the time I realized he was walking to me he was already walking away before I could respond. And then he was back, with bright ruby eyes and a cheerful smile. I think he might have infected me with something when he placed that rose behind my ear because I could no longer stay indifferent to him. I took too many liberties. Smiled freely, laughed easily, he made me forget our differences, even though everything was designed to remind me of such things. Even such small items like our eyes. Ruby red verse blue.
"Good day?" He asked.
"Odd day." I replied.
"You look lovey, Bella Gianna." I didn't like the way he purred my name, it brought far too much attention to his lips.
"Thank you."
"And you shall say nothing of how I look? How disappointing. I believe I look rather handsome today. Took a whole extra hour deciding on what to wear, surely you noticed?" His eyes were bright with playfulness. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling he was a cat playing with a mouse he just caught.
"You look devastatingly handsome, trust me. I can not help but wonder why you would take the extra time on such an ordinary day."
"Today is no ordinary day. A special visitor is gracing us with his presence, but I cannot reveal the secret."
I pouted; somehow I knew he wanted this. He was dying to reveal it to me. And I could not help but play along, I don't deny him anything. "You can tell me can't you? I'm sure no one would even notice my knowing anything extraordinary." My hands gained a bravery my mind didn't realize it had because they trail up his arms.
"Very well," he leaned close to my ear, "today we have with us Edward Cullen." He pulled back smiling. I wish he wouldn't smile like that, it is far too predatory.
I waited for a response or explanation, but he gave me none and simply left me there with a name. Smiling to himself.
His lips leave mine. They move across my cheek, down my jaw and then I feel them where his thumb just was. His cold stone lips right above my pulse. Everything inside of me stops, waiting to see what he does.
Edward Cullen was a vampire who loved a human girl. He loved her then left her then lost her as these tales normally go. He sought refuge in our city, he sought death. An escape to the pain.
And then he was granted a reprieve, his love came to him and rescued him seconds before he was almost damned to an execution.
For twenty minutes he, his love and his sister sat in this room and I could feel his eyes on me, judging me. He didn't see how much we had in common, how our fates ran parallel. We both took refuge into the city of stone for escape of heartbreak; we both were given our second chances seconds before our death was concrete. We were both awaiting judgment from the brothers.
When he left that day he was granted more time. Time with his love, time with his family. That was the one difference between he and I, he could escape. My clock was always ticking. Death by their hands was my only certainty.
His teeth sink into my skin. I was expecting this. They are sharp, it feels more like a pinch than a stabbing. I await the fire, the feeling of changing, of becoming one of them. Instead all I feel is pain. Then a dark wave pulling me under into it's blackness. Death has finally beckoned me forward. I hear his voice in the background apologizing.
I wanted more time, Bella Gianna. Cullen heard my thoughts. He heard me and Aro heard him. We had no chance my sweet girl. I wanted more time. I'm so sorry my love.
Then the blackness takes control and I am no longer me. No longer anything in this world, just a body remains being rocked back and forth by an exception to the rule.