Alice was falling; tumbling ungracefully to the hard ground below, gash marks from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Claws batted her from side to side until she finally landed in heap on top of Jasper. He gripped her waist tightly, as if trying to protect her. There was a moment of gruff, sarcastic laughter before the sweet smell of incense surrounded them and flames engulfed their images. Dry sobs could be heard from the burning pair, cries of desperation, pain, loss. Like the cries of wolves, fruitless to an unyielding moon. Nothing more could be seen but the fading shadow of a crisp yellow stiletto.
Emmett too was lost. Though still struggling for his lover he was encompassed in three huge furred arms. Writhing and wriggling with all his superhuman strength he only managed to throw off one attacker, but yet had no chance to counter. Another pair of fingers gripped him and forced him into submission. For each he fought off another two were waiting, salivating a chance to rip him to shreds to rejoice in his pain. They delighted in moans of anguish that fell from his lips as he watched Rosalie beaten with fiery sticks. Again and again they tortured her, hearing her scream mixing with groan of her partner. And each time they smiled, so inhuman, so malicious.
Esme and Carlisle were gone. They lay piled atop one another like kindling twigs. Dead and broken with body parts littering the ground, they had no hope left. There was nothing left. Nothing.
And yet, he was not there. Among the chaos and confusion a pale blur of fire could not be found. They were searching for him, calling him, taunting him. But they could not draw him out. He was too smart for them. He was planning, strategizing, just like Jasper had taught him.
But then came up the cry of discovery.
Lifeless and cold, amber eyes stared unseeing into the ether. His already alabaster cheeks had not even a hint of color and his silk clothes were ripped and torn. Dirt covered his arms, legs, bare feet, nails. He was covered in mud worms seeming to squiggle from the hiding places to cover him. His hands were tensed into fists, still fighting even though everyone was gone, lost, dead. But his face was smooth and serene with one word dying on the limp lips. "Bella."
With shaky fingers I gripped the copper head of hair, pulling it closer to my face and using it to mop the salty tears that dripped from my eyes. Rocking, shaking, convulsing I pulled him closer and closer until he became a part of me. We were one, like we always had, like we always would be.
But he was gone. Gone, gone, gone. Dead like he had supposed to be all those years ago. Like he should have been so he would have never met me. Gone. Gone. Gone.
Soft fingers were lifting me from the corpse, filled with sunlight, hope promise. But I only cried harder.
Gone.