Disclaimer: I, quite unfortunately, do not own the genius creation of the Twilight series or any of its characters. This has been credited to the unfathomably lucky Stephenie Meyer and not myself. Those existing in Twilight are lucky as well, because I would probably make their nonexistent lives a living Hell. Please, do continue.
Hello! Um... This is my first fanfic on this account. Yeah, my other one is Neko Warrior, but I only have one Twilight fanfic on that one. Neko is more manga-oriented. If you're into any mangas, check it out! I have a few Fruits Basket ones up, and a Tokyo Mew Mew oneshot as well. As for you poor, unfortunate souls who do not know the joys of manga, I suggest you make plans to, because you are missing out on too much. Thanks! Um... proceed!
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BPOV
A shiver wracked my frail body. But it was not cold, not even here in the dark of my vast closet. Instead, the typical humidity of a Phoenix summer's eve had my specially-made Jacques Doucet designer dress clinging to me more than usual, aided by the blood, sweat, and tears coating my skin. But even as the dark crept up on my quaking figure, it was not silent. Not at all.
Screams echoed through the halls of my family's small estate. They were products of wasted last breaths, for they would reach no one's ears but mine. And I could not help them. In fact, I was the reason they were dying, the reason they screamed. It was all my fault.
A moment of eerie silence stretched throughout the house suddenly. Had he already killed them all? Was he coming for me? Would he kill me? Questions flew through my head at the speed of light, but I all but went brain-dead. I was too panicked to think, too panicked to breath, I soon noticed.
Suddenly, my eyes roared in pain as the closet doors were yanked open. I felt a hand lace gently but tightly through my hair, almost as if to comfort me. All hope of reassurance was lost when I felt an unbearable sting in my scalp as I was lifted up by my hair, coming face-to-face withhim.
"L-Laurent…" I whispered, my voice cracking from the dryness in my mouth. I was absolutely petrified. He was drenched from head-to-toe in blood; the blood of my friends and family. And soon, my blood would stain his hands, as well. He would have his revenge, and I would be dead. At least I might be allowed to rest in peace.
"Yes, Isabella, it is I," he answered, a malicious tone in his horrifyingly charming voice. His shocking green eyes laughed at me in all my disheveled glory. I could see my desperate, panicked face reflected in his miniscule pupils and sank farther down into oblivion.
I could see the horrifying scenes playing over and over again in that pinprick darkness. There was my mother, the first to be killed, collapsing at my newly polished shoes, a bullet hole defined by a ring of blood on the back of her head and a lighter poised perfectly in her hand, as if it could still reach the second candle on my cake. I watched my fiancé's murder once more, his rock-hard, tanned torso being pierced by a kitchen knife like it was a mere piece of paper.
"It's your fault, Bella," Laurent hissed through his pearly white teeth, his lips curled to reveal them in a feral growl. "It's your fault they're dead. It's your fault my heart broke. You turned me down, and I'll never let you forget it."
"Laurent, I'm sorry," I sobbed, fresh tears flowing down my cheeks in a torrent of sorrow. "I didn't mean to lead you on, I really didn't! I never loved you, I'm truly sorry if you ever believed I did. Forgive me, Laurent!"
"NO!" He shouted, drawing my closer to him. He still held me by my long brown locks, for my legs had gone too weak to stand on. Then, he dropped me unceremoniously to the hard wooden floor. "I accepted you didn't love me! I loved you, so I graciously let it go. I wouldn't force you to accept me. But right after you turned me down, you accepted that filthy Indian's hand in marriage!"
"I loved him! I loved Jacob from the moment I met him! Don't you understand?" I asked in between wracking sobs, grabbing Laurent's trouser bottoms in a steel grip. He only kicked me away and stormed over to look out my window. As I watched him in frozen horror, I noticed his calloused hands were ripping the wood of my pretty windowsill to splinters.
"It was a blow below the belt, Isabella. You could have waited just a bit, you could have told me," he turned around to stare at me, contemplating for a moment. "You could have told me the truth. You had said you weren't ready for commitment, but obviously you were. You accepted him!"
"So youkilled him!?" I questioned, my voice hideously warped with blame, flavored with poison. "You killed them all! You ruined my life because you were rejected!?" The tears increased as I drew my legs closer so I could huddle in fetal position. Though it brought little comfort, it was better, like I was holding my torn heart in, instead of letting it detach from my chest completely. "You're a monster, Laurent. I hate you."
He reeled at the childish words that escaped my lips. Green eyes flew wide open to take all the more in before narrowing maliciously. I gulped, knowing my borrowed time was over. He drew a pistol from his belt, aiming for my head.
I yelped and rolled out of the way and on to my feet. Then, I was off like a speeding bullet, or a very lethargic speeding bullet, thanks to my constricting hobble skirt and heels. Another gunshot echoed through the halls as I heard Laurent's steps thundering madly after me. I screamed again and tripped, which actually helped me dodge the bullet.
As I scrambled to get up, he stood towering over me. I yelped and turned to my knees, trying to crawl away. But as I turned around, I came face-to-face with one of my dearest friends, Angela Weber.
"Angela!" I addressed her joyfully. She didn't move "Angela, why aren't you responding?" She stared back at me, and for a moment I thought she was alive. But then, I recognized the glazed-over look in her eyes and realized: Angela was dead.
I screamed yet again and turned to crawl somewhere else. A tug on the skirt of my dress had me looking over my shoulder. Laurent's foot was planted firmly on the very corner of the fabric.
His eyes, too, were hazy. They didn't show emotions anymore. He wasn't in control. Instead, he was a cold-blooded killer, and I was just another witness to silence eternally. His arm trembled as he lifted the gun from his side, angling it perfectly in the direction on my temple. He was going to kill me.
"Laurent! Laurent, NO!" I screamed, tears rolling down my cheeks. He didn't even flinch. I watched as his finger twitched, automatically preparing to give that fatal tug to the trigger.
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I know, it's a bit dark... I meant it to be, really. I hoped you liked it, though. If you wouldn't mind, could you review? I'll most likely have the next part out soon, if you do. Thanks! Bye!
- Za Shukketsu Kokoro