A/N: EDITED November 16 - I just changed the 'EPoV' to 'Edward'--I find it easier, that way. That's all that's changed.

Here's the thing: I really, really, REALLY just want to Beta for Twilight. So I'm passing this.

Yeah, it's sort of a shallow reason to write, but what the heck. I think I'd make a nice [if not good] Twilight FanFic Writer, anyway.

Summary: Bella and Edward had been torn apart by fate, only to reunite four years later--when a lot had been changed, and secrets loom across the horizon. Will they ever be able to see past the darkness ever again?

This story is set in Manila, Philippines. Don't blame me; I know this place like the back of my hand, I think.

Please try to review. I used to be scared of them back in third grade, but now I'm good.

No more shitty talk. Let's get it on.

Edward

"Do you guys have any more questions?" James, the officer-in-charge, asked. No one answered, and no one probably will, given that the meet was supposed to be for only half an hour; it stretched into two because of his long string of complaints from all of us: how we were rarely punctual for meetings, how no one ever did their time enough, and how inefficient we do our work. His complaining usually is brought out from two things: either that his love life's been depressing--not that it never was, rather it's more depressing than usual--that, or we're not there--that, meaning we're not there to support him, and in a way, 'console' him.

If console is even the proper word for it, I mean.

"Okay, meet adjourned. The ones on duty later at six--please come on time. The big shots are complaining." When we talk about the 'big shots' they roughly refer to the priests here in church. It's just that sometimes we'd rather not see our work as something religious, it's something more of a social reponsibility for us to go to church, serve in church and be in church. Majority of the boys around here blame it on their parents who were church servers at a point. My case was the only thing that was different. I, no matter how weird it sounded, wanted to be here.

"Masen," it was Mike Newton, resident playboy and rich kid rolled into one, "You playing today?"

"Yeah," I said and went out with him. After meetings, the boys and I have this habit of playing in the field, no matter how hot, wet or cold it got. Mike brought his baseball gear today. He was the brave soul who talked to me the moment I was new here eight years ago. He invited me to hang out at his place along with Ben Cheney and Tyler Crowley, who were all popular rich kids themselves. They all had six-figure trust funds, and all three of them went--scratch that, drove--to the Ateneo with the vehicle of their choice. It was the only thing that set us apart, really. I was no one but Edward Anthony Masen Jr, the only son of Edward Sr and Elizabeth Masen. I went to De La Salle thanks to my sponsors. I had no trust fund, all the more a bank account. My parents worked minumum wage; there's nothing more to say but that.

"Here you go," Tyler handed over Mike's aluminum bat to me, "Don't screw up, 'kay? The bets today are if we win, Mike'll treat us out Ascend tonight. The other way around, and I'll be handing over my vehicle for two weeks." Tyler's one who was a little too OCD about things. His parents gave him a pristine white Chrysler 300c for a vehicle, and when you're in there it's damn spotless. It's been his dream car, and letting speed addict Mike drive it even for an hour would probably turn the jewel into scrap metal. I merely nodded, went to the pitcher's plate and stared straight into Eric's eyes a few yards away from me. He stanced for the pitch, and no sooner it was in the air. I tried to hit it and I missed.

"Strike one!" Ben declared. He enjoyed being referee in our games more than anything. Besides, who would break out Mike and Tyler's fight, anyway?

The catcher threw the ball back to Eric, and he was looking at me, as if waiting to catch me unaware. He threw the ball again... and I missed it.

"Two!" Ben exclaimed, "Eddie, what's wrong with you?!"

"Sorry," I mumbled and tried to focus more. I was usually top player in baseball around here. I never even get strikes.

I looked at Eric again, and this time he threw and I actually saw the ball. I swung my bat so hard, the ball was merely a dot in the sunny sky; it eventually fell outside of church grounds.

I began running to first base, and I saw that Mike's the one getting the ball. I'd have to run faster, do a home run if I could. I was practically not breathing, running those bases. Mike had the ball in his mitt and threw it to his teammate. I slid my way back to the first base, my heel making it there first before the ball got into the catcher's mitt.

"SCORE!" Ben cried. Tyler gave me a thumbs-up, and game was finally on.

The innings, strikes and home runs came one after the other. In sports, Mike usually ran the fastest, and I hit things the hardest. Tyler would be the best when in comes to strategizing in team sport, and Ben would be the best at--well, being a referee. Ben was never allowed to get himself too tired; he has a potassium problem that when sports leaves him too weak, he won't be able to get up the next morning. So to be a part of the game, he's the moderator--calling the scores, calling to the clinic if one of us gets hurt, and most of all he tries his hardest to make us play by the rules. Honesty is an integral part of our friendship: break it and you break everything.

Finally, the game was over and we won. Mike's not one to act like a sore loser about it; what did he have to lose, in the first place? He called his mom for our guy's night out tonight, and she merely said, 'Just be sure you're home before the sun rises.' Mike's mom was really a hipster; she's close to being the coolest mom in church.

"So--Edward," Mike said, "Have you moved on now?" All us boys were laying on the grass, shirts off, letting the sun bake us. Mike's question caught me a little off guard; I never knew he was attentive to my 'issues.'

"Huh, what?" I decided to play dumb. It was the story I never really spoke out loud, but whenever I thought about it my heart would just break a little more.

"Have you moved on?" He repeated, "About Isabella?" I merely sighed in reply.

"Like, dude." Tyler piped up, "It's been--what, four years since you last saw each other? And you're still not over her? We know you love her and everything, but we think it's time you do."

I closed my eyes and tried hard not to think about her in that moment. Isabella Marie Swan was once this nine-year-old girl I knew here in church. She too, was a church server like us boys. She sang, and she was one of the best one we've got. I saw her the first day she was here--her hair tied up in a messy ponytail, red shirt and blue jeans. She's not like every other girl here in church who--I never knew if intentionally or not--literally fell in the laps of us boys. She was just--different, like it was so early on that she knew what she needed, what she wanted, where she was going.

But I never knew that where she was going had me in it, until the day she left Manila.

There had been rumors of Bella and I around here, that we'd been caught kissing somewhere in church. The news made it to her mom, Renee, who had a sparkling reputation of being one of the richest, most generous sponsors here. She once sent me to school in the Ateneo, along with the boys. But when the news caught up to her--next thing I knew was I didn't have enough finances to go there anymore, and I had to stop for the rest of the year. Some of my sponsors were still willing to send me to school, and we had talked it over that I'm attending my classes over the De La Salle. That could have been better, except for the fact that first day of classes Bella and I were in the same class list. This time, her mom had made her drop her high school freshman year, only to move to a different branch of De La Salle somewhere far, far off Manila. All I had from then was a letter she sent after she left.

The guys and I had been quiet after our short conversation about Bella. I was drowning in my dreams, thinking about her, and then I heard James. Ah. This James was different from the one we saw a while ago. This one had drunk a little too much of Red Horse and was notably tipsy. Us boys lay still, a tense, hushed silence was in the air.

This, indeed, was not going to be pretty.

"Masen! C'mere!" His language was slurred, and it was that tone that none of us liked, since we knew what he wanted.

"Up, Edward," I heard Ben whisper to himself. He was probably shaking in fear. He'd never experienced it the way Tyler, Mike and I did; I'd rather he didn't feel it in the longest time possible.

I slowly got up, took my grass-stained shirt back on, and dragged myself back onto the pavement. I can feel my core about to crumble, but I had to keep the poker face on. I looked straight forward, walking toward James, and he dragged me by the arm.

It was these days that I wish our priests didn't have to do community work on Saturdays.

'Calm yourself down, Edward, you know this,' I thought to myself. The sun beat down on my skin like fire; like I was being roasted alive. I looked back onto the field, and I saw the three best buds I know looking back at me, eyes wide with fear.

"Y'know, Edward," James led me up to the computer room, "You're a g'lookin' guy. S'metimes, I wonder what keeps you single for s'long." He opened the door, took me in and then locked it, and walked me to the bathroom door. I tried to answer, but I can't find my voice. I must have left it next to Mike a while ago.

I leaned back on the while-tiled wall, letting it cool through my shirt. I saw James look at me straight in the eye, and I closed mine. I didn't want him to look at me that way. Only Bella would be allowed to see me that way.

"Mmm..." He hummed, and knelt in front of me. I tried to keep the waterworks to myself, but I was on the verge of losing it when he popped open the button in my jeans.

"So delicious..." I heard him say. I didn't want to hear these... these erotic things come out of his mouth. He was a man. So was I. Wouldn't that make this thing awkward?

I froze like a statue the moment he sucked me. It left me this slimy feeling, like getting all dirty with no hope of being clean ever again.

I shut my eyes even harder and tried to think of something--anything that would alleviate my attention to this disgusting thing I had to endure. I thought of Bella. I had to. I thought of her doing this to me. I know, I know: it's a sin to lust after someone like this, but I want to forget. I want to forget this, along with every other time I was violated and stripped of my innocence. I wanted to pretend that I still had a little dignity in me. I wanted to pretend I was worthy of being anything. I wanted...

I pushed and forced myself into the darkness, letting the night take over me whole.

Tell me what do you think. I've got the story pretty much planned out in my head, but in case you see any loopholes please don't be scared to ask me.

In truth, I'm actually scared of people who are reading this, so... haha!!

I'll try to add things up soon. It's our college week, so I'm totally vacant.

.cha