Invisible

by Ali OMalley Cat

That's me, Bella Swan, the wallflower, the quiet one, the unknown and the undesired. Invisible. At least I was, until he saw me. This was my entry for the Stranger Than Fiction contest that was cancelled.

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

A/N This was my entry for the Stranger Than Fiction contest that was cancelled. I worked really hard on it so I thought I would post it any way. Big, huge, massive thanks to my pre-reader chinchin. unicorn Thanks to the PTB betas Lulu M & Sweetishbubble. Any mistakes left are my own.

I'd also like to clarify that the colours are all capitalised because they are Crayola Crayon names, it is explained in the story but just thought I'd point it out ^.^

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in·vis·i·ble (ĭn-vĭz′ə-bəl)

adjective

Not easily noticed or detected; inconspicuous

noun

One that is invisible.

That's me, Bella Swan, the wallflower, the quiet one, the unknown and the undesired. Invisible. At least I was, until he saw me.

I grew up in Forks, Washington, a middle-of-nowhere one horse town with a population that wouldn't even fill a Walmart. And I still didn't have any friends. The amount of students in my year was so small that we were all in one class. Ten girls and fifteen boys. Not one of them even glanced in my direction. I wasn't even a victim of bullying. I was just simply ignored. Even the teachers kept their distance and barely glanced my way.

But then there was my Daddy. He was my whole world and I was his. He always told me that from the moment I was born the world got a little brighter. Daddy would pinch my smiling little cheeks and tell me all the ways he loved me.

And he really did. There's nothing he wouldn't do for me. If I wanted to play tea party he'd sit his butt down in one of my tiny Carnation Pink chairs and pretend to drink the not-really-there tea out of my plastic cups. And he always had time to color with me. We'd sit in my princess themed bedroom, me on my stomach and him leaning against my bed, for hours while he named all the colors of my Crayola Crayons.

He'd say, "This one's Burnt Orange, baby girl. Wouldn't it look good for the flowers in your drawing?"

I'd nod in excitement and reach for the brightly colored stick of wax with eager fingers. I'd do anything to see that smile curving under his bristly mustache.

I remember playing in the park with him one sunny summer afternoon when I was five, and running to him as fast as my little legs would carry me. I wanted to show him the caterpillar I'd found, and in my excitement I didn't notice the averted eyes from the other kids or the dirty looks from their parents. When I was with Daddy I never felt invisible even if he was the only one who saw me. "Daddy ,Daddy! Look at this caterpillar I found. Isn't he funny lookin'?"

His moustache twitched with amusement as he replied, "He sure is, princess. Can you tell me what color he is?"

I furrowed my brow in concentration as I tried to think of the little bugs color name. "Inch Worm green!" I declared proudly.

My Daddy's head tipped back and he squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding sun as big loud guffaws burst out from him. "Look at you remembering your crayon names." And he beamed down at me with love and adoration flashing in his Sea Green eyes. From that moment on we described every color using the Crayola names.

A month after that wonderful day in the park, Daddy went and got himself shot in Seattle trying to protect his real family from an intruder. I watched the news report while my mom fucked the officer—one of daddy's colleagues—who came to tell us the bad news.

I stared at the TV in puzzlement as Daddy's other family mourned a brave man who died to protect them. I watched as a lady called Victim's Wife who wasn't my Mom cry and sob hysterically while holding a little girl to her chest so, so tightly. I couldn't understand why they were so upset over my Daddy. And why was my Mom holding another man so, so tightly instead of me? Mom cleared that up for me quickly enough.

She had stumbled out of her bedroom, a Razzmatazz pink satin robe haphazardly draped around her thoroughly used naked body. She wobbled on shaky legs, shuffling in place, until she was facing in the direction of the kitchen. Satisfied with her trajectory, she then staggered toward her goal confidently. The look of absolute shock that twisted her face when she tripped over my tiny little body would have been comical if the fact that she hadn't remembered that I was there wasn't so sad.

Renee flung her arms out to catch herself on the coffee table, arms circling comically as she gasped in shock. Her shrieks were deafening as she yelled right in my face, "What have I told you about getting under peoples feet! Jesus, you could have fuckin' killed me!" She picked herself up and was turning back towards the kitchen when the TV must have caught her attention.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and her hands curled into claws. Through clenched teeth she angrily spat her words at me," What the fuck are you watching this shit for?"

I opened my mouth to tell her that Victim's Wife was really upset about Daddy, but her hate filled stare and angry words had stopped me in my tracks. "That bitch is the reason your Daddy couldn't live with us. Well, she has another thing coming if she thinks I'll forget about the child support he owes me."

I turned back to the TV, and all those sad faces, barely registering that she had stormed off to the kitchen looking for more alcohol. I stared in fascination as the mother cuddled the little girl so sweetly. They looked like good people to me, and maybe they could help me keep some part of my Daddy. I felt hope swell in my heart. Children can be so naive. I dialed the operator with shaky fingers and asked the bored sounding lady to connect me to my soon-to-be new family.

Someone answered on the third ring; it was an angel I think. I took a deep breath and bravely explained who I was. Well, that's what I tried to do. I managed four words. "Hi. I'm Bella Swan—" Before the angel—of pain and suffering, I'm sure of it now—hung up. I've never called back. The pain of a stranger's rejection was, in some way, much more intense then the rejection of my own mother.

Ah, my mother. As you can see, she used the time honored-tradition of alcoholism and whoring as a distraction from her crappy life and her unwanted daughter. Boohoo for her huh? The only female role model in my life spent sixty percent of her time on her back—or her knees—and the other forty percent in a dingy bar. And then there were the men. Shabby appearance, reeking of cheap booze and sex, and not one look was spared for me. Losers, all of them.

That's how she met my Daddy. Turns out he wasn't as wonderful as I'd thought. To put it bluntly Mom was a hooker and Daddy was the dirty cop who promised not to press charges if she gave up her services to him for free. Guess Daddy should have worn a condom huh?

As I got older the reason for my invisibility became clearer. I was being punished for my parent's un-holy actions. Some very lonely part of me wishes the judging people of Forks had at least graced me with dirty looks and snide comments behind my back instead of the ice cold shoulder I was given.

I graduated without any fuss and left Forks for good. I headed south—because who would head north?—hoping to shed this skin of invisibility that was placed around me and finally find someone I could connect to. I hadn't realized that the invisibility would follow me. I've lived in Tahoe City, California, for the last four years and I still have not made one single friend.

I took a job in an office a month after I got here, and I'm still in the same position. I'm the joke of the office. I'm a twenty-two year old office junior; the office manager is younger than I am. To avoid the crushing silence of being ignored during lunch, I take a walk. It's an unremarkable trail leading from the park across the road from my office. There's nothing much to differentiate it from any other trail in the area, but it's the one I have used every day for the last four years. I find comfort in its familiarity.

I know each knob protruding from each tree that's dotted along the narrow dirt path. The twists and turns are second nature to me now, and I could walk this trail with my eyes closed. Wet foliage clings to my sneakers, and the smell of rotting nature wafts pass my nose. This is my place, my safe haven. Somewhere I can pretend I'm not ignored.

And that's where I am now. Only something is different. I'm frozen in place as I stare at the Laser Lemon yellow sticky note stuck to the tree not one-hundred yards in front of me. I've been stuck staring at this intrusion for the last ten minutes. The shocking color coupled with the randomness of it being there has rendered me dumb. I don't even know what it says yet. My skin crawls as the feeling of being watched washes over me. I shift my eyes from left to right—the only movement I seem to be capable of—but I can see no one else.

Another five minutes pass before I'm able to move forward. On shaky legs I slowly approach the note. Like a deer would come into a meadow, I'm cautious. With trepidation in my heart and hesitation shaking my fingers, I reach out and pluck the intrusion from the rough bark. It reads:

I see you

The shock of those words numbs my body and I drop the note. Not once in my lonely life have I ever heard, or read, those words. A small breeze picks up the flimsy square, the scent of cigarette smoke floats by me. The note is carried a few yards further down the trail and panic floods through me at the thought of losing it, so I throw myself on top of the note. I clutch it to my chest like it was a fragile, injured bird that needed my love, and I head back to the office.

I spend the rest of the afternoon staring at the note. My heart pumps wildly in my chest, and a foreign feeling pulses from the bloody organ and radiates through my body. I've never felt anything like this. With sudden clarity I realize it's hope. Hope that I've finally shed this invisibility that's clung to my soul since birth. Hope that I can finally have a connection with another human being. Hope that I no longer have to be alone. My cheeks are starting to ache from the small smile curving my lips. It's been a long time since my face felt a smile, and the effort my muscles are putting in is slightly painful. I don't care. The pain is worth it.

I fall asleep later that night with the note lovingly placed next to me so I can feel its realness even as I dream.

~I~

The next day at lunch, with my hope carefully placed in my pocket, I walk my trail again. Nerves flip and flop in my empty stomach as I near the fateful tree where I found yesterday's salvation. I gasp, the sound is loud on the deserted path, because there's another note. This time I don't hesitate. I stride confidently towards the Jazzy Jam pink out of place memo, and with excited fingers, I pluck it from my lucky tree. Again the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke stings my nose as my eyes trip and stumble over the words in my excitement. I have to read it three times before the message sinks in.

Every time that I see

you coming, I want to

approach you

The words make me dizzy. I sink down slowly and sit in the muddy and wet leaves. They want to be near me. Not just watching but standing right by me. Maybe even… no, I can't let that thought finish. This is already too much, and I dare not let my hope build too high. It will kill me if I fall from this. I tuck the note safely behind the first and return to work with a hopeful smile for tomorrow.

~I~

I'm sitting on my bed at home with the notes carefully placed in a rainbow of color around me. It's been five days since I found the first one, and I now have a brightly colored collection of hope. I read the notes out loud so I may feel their love. "I see you. Every time that I see you coming, I want to approach you. Watching you, seeing you, is the highlight of my day. You are very beautiful. Yesterday, I slipped up and almost came out to say hello."

My heart skips and jumps at the last one. I press my hand against my chest in the hope that I can stop it from leaping out in joy. Oh how I wish they would say hello. I've never wanted anything more in my life. Tears fall from my Raw Umber brown eyes in frustration. They're so close yet so far, and I'm so desperate for them to just come out from the trees and into my life. I want so badly to be able to tell them how much their words have saved me. The weekend looms like a lonely Granite Gray cloud before me. For the first time in my life, I'm wishing for Monday.

~I~

Sunlight, warm and glaringly bright, spills into my room through my open curtains. Saturday's are errand days in my lonely life. I stretch with arms and legs extended, fingers and toes splayed, and turn my head to check the time on my bedside clock. That's when I see it. The Electric Lime green practically-flashing-its-love-at-me sticky note of happiness is resting gently on the other wise unoccupied pillow next to me. My heart pumps one phrase around my shocked into paralysis-body; they were here. Those three words flow through my veins and saturate into my bones until my whole body vibrates with joy.

I roll onto my side, place my hand on the pillow so it's resting a little below the left corner of the note, and I daydream about the person who wrote it. It was a man, for sure; a woman's script is more rounded and curvy. These words were sharp and with purpose. They just oozed masculinity. I imagine he's tall with an air of authority around him. His hair is cut short and dark, like his eyes, maybe a warm shade of brown like my own.

He'll stand behind me, with his arms wrapped around my waist, and whisper his love into my ear. The daydream has me filled with warm fuzzy love, and I smile so wide I fear my face will split in two. I wonder if he touched me while he was here. Did he stroke my hair? Or maybe caress my cheek as I slept and dreamt of him? Those thoughts have me squealing and rolling around under my duvet in delight.

Finally I feel ready to read his loving note. With wonder and awe guiding my fingers, I bring it up close to my face so I don't miss any of his meanings, and I read the most wonderful words I've ever read.

You're so beautiful when

you sleep, love. You look

like an angel sent down

to tempt me. I can't wait

to feel your eyes on me.

Oh god. His words are like honey for my soul. They coat me in love, and I want to drown in them. He wants me to see him, and I so desperately want that too. I need to see him. I need to touch him and oh, how I need him to touch me. I close my eyes as I become overwhelmed with the feeling of want and need for a man I have never seen. It clogs my pores and fills my lungs until all I feel and breathe is my need for him.

My body pulses with it, with this need, and I let my hands wander. I imagine it's his fingers that touch me softly enough to tickle. It's his fingers that caress and massage my breasts. His fingers that pull, pinch and roll my nipples into tight peaks of aching neediness. My hips roll and buck against nothing as the need grows between my thighs.

I imagine he whispers naughty words against my ear. I'll shiver as his breath tickles across my neck and the warmth of his closeness burns me. I move my fingers lower, as I imagine he would do, until I reach the place I need him most. My fingers stroke swollen lips before dipping into hot need. I stroke higher and circle faster and harder while I send prayers to God that my salvation will reveal himself to me soon. Higher and higher my circling takes me until I break and shatter around fingers I wish weren't my own.

When my pounding heartbeat has settled down to fluttering and my breathing has returned to normal, I feel the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes spill over and roll down my flushed cheeks. I'm so close to being loved by another human being. My heart aches to be held by him.

The alarm on my clock startles me away from past demons, and I climb out of bed and head for the bathroom. My thoughts swirl and linger around my good morning note as I watch the soap and shampoo slide down my body and disappear into the unknown. That's where my life is heading; into the unknown. It's completely thrilling, and my small smile re-appears.

Half an hour later and I've emerged from the steam filled bathroom, all squeaky clean and ready to start my day, when I stop dead in my tracks. An unfamiliar-to-my-apartment smell tickles my nostrils, and I struggle to recognize it. One glance at the mirror and I realize it's cigarette smoke. There's another note stuck to my mirror. Aquamarine this time. He was here, again, but while I was awake. Unexpected anger floods my system and my hands clench into fists. Doesn't he know how much I want to see him? Why would he do this? Why won't he show me who he is? I snatch the note from the mirror, glaring at the words he's written.

Oh, love, how I wish

those had been my

fingers dipping and diving

into your precious-to-me body

His words ignite my desire again, but my anger towards him doesn't fade. He's taunting me with his presence. I don't understand why he won't reveal himself. I scream in frustration, "Why won't you show me who you are!"

Great sobs wrack my body, and I sink to my knees. The tiles are cold and hard against my skin, but all I feel is the pain in my heart. I mumble, "Please," over and over until the words all merge into one and I'm no longer coherent.

My mind conjures up images of mocking faces. They tease and taunt me as I lay broken on the floor. Fingers point and faceless specters laugh at my misfortune. My entire body feels like an open wound as the crushing weight of my invisibility presses me into the tiles. I am alone. I am unloved.

Eventually the tears ebb away and the pain recedes into a dull ache. Once I am able to breathe around the pain again I drag myself back to bed. I don't have the physical or emotional strength for today. Sleep is my salvation, and in my exhaustion I drift off quickly.

When I awaken several hours later my mood has not improved. I feel the hope that had been blossoming over the last week drain from my body. All I want to do is stay in bed until I slip into death. My head is pounding with harsh throbs of self-loathing. My eyes feel heavy and full of grit, as if there is glass embedded under my lids. The only mercy I feel is the darkness I have woken to. It seems in my depression I've slept the day away.

Groaning, I roll onto my side while trying to rub the stinging from my eyes. My whole body aches from my crying stint on the bathroom floor. I'm twisting and turning in an effort to stretch out the aches, when a noise from the corner of my room freezes my body. There's a second of blood curdling, gut clenching, heart freezing fear before I bolt upright in bed, and train my eyes into the dark, dark corner of my room.

I know there's a chair there. It's Timberwolf gray and made of wicker, and it's usually covered in clothes I can't be bothered to put away. But right now, in the panic-inducing dark, my eyes see a silhouette. A large silhouette. My breathing deepens then turns to panting, which then quickly escalates into hyperventilating. The figure is staring at me—I can feel his gaze even if I cannot see his eyes—and I'm staring at him. Anticipation and fear of the unknown builds inside me, and the need to scream bubbles up through my body. It climbs higher and higher and sticks in my throat. My whole body is trembling.

I open my mouth ready to scream, to let out the fear and panic through blood chilling shrieks, when the noise of a match takes the breath right out of my mouth. I listen to that unmistakable sound. I watch the familiar glow of the fire roar to life and illuminate a crooked smirk. I watch him light his cigarette and my nostrils flare as the comforting-to-me-now smell drifts towards me.

He places the Baby Powder white stick of death between his full lips that hide Coconut white teeth, and he sucks the calm inducing smoke into his lungs. The glowing end flares brighter with every draw he takes, and his face is thrown into the Red Orange glowing light. Finally I see him. His nose is sharp and long with a slight bump at the bridge. His chiseled jaw is covered in dark stubble. His dark, dark eyes are framed by almost effeminately long lashes and guarded by even darker thick eyebrows. My gaze flicks back to his mouth as he inhales again, and the glowing ring of light grows once more before fading just as quickly.

I watch those lips wrap around that small soft tip and I ache. My thighs clench together under my heavy duvet, and a pleading whimper escapes from behind my desperate-to-kiss-him lips.

The clenching worsens as he smirks at me. "So, love. You wanted to see me?" He cocks an eyebrow after his stating-the-obvious question, and it's all I can do to keep breathing.

His voice is deep and gravelly, like he just woke up. It's probably from the smoking. It's full of testosterone and dominance. I long to hear it growled into my ear as he moves above me.

I watch as his eyes slip from mine and down my body. It's then that I realize I'm naked, and I didn't remember to hold the duvet in place when I sat up. Heat blooms in my face and rushes down my neck then over my breasts. I can feel the flames of embarrassment licking under my skin, and I move to pull the duvet up to cover my humble breasts.

"Don't." The word is growled from between those heavenly lips. That one word is full of urgency and, dare I say it, desperation. "Don't hide yourself from me, love. There's nothing you couldn't reveal of yourself that I wouldn't love."

I feel a moment of trepidation, where my inner voice questions if I should trust him, but it's short lived. Of course I could trust him. He sees me. I let the duvet fall again, and the warm smile that graces his face fills me with warmth. He looks angelic.

"I've been looking for you for a long time, love, and now that I've found you we're going to be blissfully happy." His stare strips my skin from my bones with its intensity, and his words lift my soul up to the heavens.

I feel tears of joy fall from the corners of my eyes and roll down my heated cheeks. "Thank you." The words are whispered from my lips like the holiest of prayers. He is my salvation after all. "Please, I need your name. I want to taste how it feels in my mouth." I'm so overjoyed at his presence I feel no embarrassment at my words.

Full, Wild Watermelon red lips curve up, up into the widest smile. The beatific look on his face and the adoration in his eyes makes me feel beautiful for the first time in my life. "Edward, my name is Edward."

I sigh in contentment. It suits him perfectly. "Edward." His name floats from between my prayerful lips. I want to scream and shout it. I have someone, and his name is Edward.

His amused chuckle breaks through my worshipful thoughts, and he graces me with his tantalizing voice once more. "You've been alone a long time, Bella. That's over now. I'm here and I see you. And soon so will the rest of the world." He flicks the remainder of his cigarette out of the open window next to him and lifts himself from my chair.

My mouth drops in rapturous awe as he unfurls like a sleek, predatory cat. His height is equal parts intimidating and sensuous. I watch enraptured as he stalks closer to the bed, closer to me. My breathing is labored as lust floods my system. Pulses of anticipation and pleasure flash throughout my body. Edward crawls onto the bed and so, so slowly moves over me until he's hovering above my trembling-with-need form. The duvet—and his clothes—is between us, and I'm praying to God that Edward removes them soon so I may feel him skin on skin. I moan, loud and long, at that beautiful thought.

Edward lets his head drop, and his eyes close as my wanton moan reaches his ears. His lips are so close to my ear that I can feel every exhale tickling against my skin, and his hair is brushing oh so softly against my cheek. "Do you have any idea what that noise does to me, Bella?" His voice is so deep and full of lust.

"Edward." My voice is breathy and so full of need. "Please, I need you to touch me." Tears of frustration leak from my eyes. I'm desperate. I'd do anything he asked if he promised to touch me.

Edward moves his face so he's looking into my Burnished Brown eyes, his Peach skin floating just above mine. Shocks of electricity zap between us in the barely there gap between our faces. Every inhale and exhale is shared, like we're each other's oxygen. This moment would be perfect, if only he'd kiss me. His eyes bore into mine, and just as I'm beginning to think he won't, he leans down and brushes his mouth ever so gently against mine.

Delicious tingles spread from my lips into my face before radiating out through my whole body. Love pulses with every heartbeat. Edward presses his lips harder against me and flicks his wet tongue over my devoted mouth as a request for access. I open immediately, anything for him. Soft moans and whimpers of joy fall from my mouth, over our tongues, and into his perfect mouth. The kiss is slow and careful, he knows this is my first, and it's like he wants me to be able to memorize this moment. Every swirl of his tongue, every soft pucker of his lips and every gentle nibble from him will be forever burned into my memory. He tastes like mints and cigarettes, and I'll forever associate those tastes with love.

As my breathing gets heavier and the ache between my thighs builds, I start to squirm under Edward. I'm desperate for friction, and it shows in my undulating hips and the desperate way I'm moaning into Edward's hot, open mouth. Finally he drops his weight onto me, and I gasp as my body arches against the feeling of having a man press against me. Blissful joy zips through my body and comes together lovingly with the lustful needy feelings coating my nerves.

Edward trails those sinful lips over my jaw to my neck where he presses open mouth kisses against my fluttering pulse point. "You taste divine, love." He whispers against my throat and sets my whole body on fire.

I lose all control at his words, and my hands fly up to bury themselves in his mess of dark hair. The strands are silky soft against my palms. So this is what heaven feels like.

Edward groans as I grip him tightly and hold his head to me. "You are a temptress, a siren calling in the night. I need you, Bella." His words are growled against my skin. I feel the vibrations all the way in my toes.

I nod my head in acquiescence. Edward immediately pulls back, and I miss his heat and weight. But felling his thighs pressing against mine as he straddles me sends luscious tingles through me, and I shiver with need. Watching Edward undress can be described as nothing but religious, a holy miracle that deserves to be worshiped on bended knees.

His stomach muscles flex and contract as he lifts the Sonic Silver gray t-shirt from his chiseled-by-sculptors body. My fingers itch to trace every bump of hard muscle, to slide over silky smooth skin. My eyes fall to the perfect v of his masculine hips. I want to run my tongue against it, to see how sweet he tastes, and to nuzzle my nose against the soft downy hair leading to paradise. A sob filled with neediness erupts from my throat as his hands, those perfect hands with long slender fingers, reach for the button on his jeans.

His head snaps up and the corner of his mouth lifts in a thigh-clenching smirk. "Tell me you want it, Bella. I want to hear how much you want me."

Desperation squeezes my lungs and fear grips my heart. What if I don't beg hard enough? He might leave! I bolt upright and wrap my arms around his naked torso, while resting my head on his chest. "Please, oh, please, Edward. I want you so much. Can't you see? If you leave I'll die. I'll just disintegrate into nothingness. That's what I am without you, Edward, nothing." I look up into those godly eyes and plead, "Please, Edward. I want you inside of me. I want to feel you moving above me, in me and over me. Always."

A seraphic smile splits his beautiful face, and, after cradling mine gently in his behemoth hands, he bends low, low and gifts me the softest, most precious kiss. He whispers against my hopeful lips, "As you wish." Placing his palm in the center of my chest, he firmly, but gently, pushes back until I'm flat against the bed.

My breasts and stomach are completely exposed to him, for him. I watch as he climbs from the bed and removes the duvet, revealing the rest of my nakedness.

"Stunning." The word falls from him, so quiet it's like he didn't really say it.

And then finally he's removing his jeans and his Robin's Egg blue boxers, and there he is. I stare in humbled awe. It's as if God has granted me one look at his most precious creation. Edward is pure muscle. Hard, sweeping, silky soft, otherworldly beauty that's what Edward is made of.

I watch with hooded lids as he trails his pleasure giving fingers up the inside of my waiting-patiently-open thighs. They're followed closely by his holy mouth. He sucks and licks right where I need him. It's like he's in my head, and he can hear all my thoughts and wants. His fingers stroke and curl against me. Higher and higher I climb as he stroke, stoke, strokes and lick, lick, licks me lovingly. I see sparks and fireworks. Angels sing and my soul mixes with pure joy as I fall into Edwards touch. Clenching heat grips his fingers as I coat them with my love.

When my soul returns to my body, Edward slides his further up until we're eye to eye, chest to chest and man to woman. It feels incredible to have him hot and heavy between my thighs. Edward props himself up on his elbows and positions his thick, hard cock against me. And then he's pushing and sliding into me, and I'm stretching and gripping him all at the same time. The stretching burns and I whimper in pain while begging him not to stop.

Grunts and groans sound in Edwards's throat as he bottoms out with his hips pressed right against my ass. "Oh, love. You feel indescribable. So tight and wet for me. You have no idea the joy it gives me to know I am your first."

I nod at his words, but the pain of giving my virginity to him has taken my breath away. I lift my legs and hook them over his waist in an attempt to create more space, but oh God he just slides deeper. We both hiss, mine form pain and his from unbelievable pleasure.

"Fuck. That's right, love. Let me in deeper. Give me more, always more." His voice is strained but soaked in pleasure. Edward pulls back, and with tight circling motions, he begins to thrust into me.

Small, grinding movements that caress my clit in the most tantalizing way. With each circle of his hips, he pulls louder moans from my body until I'm keening for him to give me more. His hips pull back further and further with each thrust. The pain starts to dissipate and a full tickling, tingling feeling grows deep inside me in its wake. He whispers in my ear, to low and hurried for me to hear, but it tightens my body and pleasure grows between us until I'm on the edge again. It's exactly how I hoped it would feel and more.

As my clenching tightens around Edward, he lifts up off me slightly. Where his chest was once pressed so tightly against mine there's now empty air, but we are still very much joined at the hips. I gaze up lovingly at this beautiful godlike man as he thrusts into me ever harder, and his Licorice black eyes bore into my soul. I watch as his loving mouth stretches wider and wider—impossibly wide—across his paling angular face. My brows furrow in confusion as his Cultured white teeth elongate past his lips to form lethal looking points.

I watch with fear growing in my full-with-him stomach as sticky, foul smelling saliva pools at the corner of his stretched thin mouth, and drip from his inhuman teeth onto my Tickle Me Pink flushed cheek. The liquid heats my skin from an uncomfortable tingle to an acid like burn. Terror filled screams explode from my chest as I feel his spit burn through my flesh. Panic grips my heart, and I start to struggle beneath him.

I pound my fists against his chest only to feel the bones in my hands crack and crumble under the stone like strength of him. My heels are met with the same fate as I kick at his ass and thighs. The skin on my hands breaks under the force of my struggle, and as I continue to push against him, I smear my hot sticky blood over his Silver Gray skin.

Edward's nostrils flare, like a blood hound scenting his prey, as the smell of my blood catches his attention. A terrifying roar erupts from him, and in a motion almost too quick for me to follow, plunges his fist into my chest.

Pain. That's all I feel, excruciating pain. I no longer have a body, just pain. It originates from the gaping hole in my chest, the ragged edges of my skin catching on Edward's powerful arm. It advances in an ever widening circle from the point of impact until the feeling takes over my body like an alien host.

His once loving hand squeezes my heart and forces a blood-curdling scream out of my throat. With every clench of his fist, agony spasms along my nerves. Blood bubbles from my open chest cavity. It runs like a river between my breasts and spills hot and thick down my ribs onto my sheets. I watch spurts of scalding, potent, Scarlett red liquid shoot from my body and coat the arm Edward has buried deep in me.

With every thrust, I hear bones cracking in my body. My throat is bleeding from the force of my screams. My pelvis shatters under the force of his hips, but Edward continues to thrust into me as he licks and sucks the pooling blood he's squeezing from my still beating heart.

He comes, body shaking hard, and then he releases my barely beating heart. I can't feel my body, nothing, not even a tiny tingle. My head rolls to the side as I watch Edward clean up. Blood is dripping from his mouth. His chin is covered, like he dipped his face in a bowl of jam, and his chest is stained Rusty Red. That's my blood he's covered in, my blood that drips from his fangs. It paints the floor and is splattered up the walls. I can feel it drying into the sheets under me. My blood.

As he makes to leave a small noise must escape through my getting-colder-by-the-second lips, because Edward turns to face me. Even as I lay dying by his hand I desperately don't want him to leave me.

He kneels next to the bed and caresses my cheek softly, lovingly. "Shh now, love. It'll be over soon." He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead and my eyes flutter shut. "I told you the world would see you by the time I was done with you."

I don't hear, see or feel anything after that, but for a few freezing cold moments I'm pleased. When they find me, whoever they are, my murder will be so gruesome they won't be able to keep it out of the papers or off the news. Finally I'll be seen. I'm no longer invisible. With my last thought I thank Edward for the gift he's given me and let the darkness take me into infamy.

~I~

Jacob Black has been a detective for over twenty years and never has he ever seen a crime so violent or gruesome. Sitting behind his desk in Tahoe City's police station, he stares over the latest victim of the "Monster" killer.

He snorts. "Monster is right." Normally he would never agree with the press, but this time, yeah, giving the killer the nickname Monster fits perfectly.

This latest victim is the sixth in as many months. Every crime scene has been identical. Brunette female in her early twenties, no immediate family, signs of consensual copulation before death and blood. Lots of blood. The bodies had all been ripped open, but the crime lab had no idea what tools had been used to do it. All six of the victims had been found smiling. "That's the creepiest thing about this case," he thought.

Jacob threw the file back down on his desk and swivelled his chair around to stare out over the city via his wall to wall office window. A shiver filled with fear crawled down his spine as the realization that this probably wasn't the last of the Monster's victims dawned on him.

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A/N So... that happened. I'd really love to know what you thought so leave me a review please. Oh, and if any of you readers were going to judge this contest I'd really appreciate your thoughts.

If any of you are wondering what's going on with my WIP I Knew You Were Trouble, I'm working on it I promise. I'm having some issues with the latest chapter, but I swear I am working on it so hopefully it won't be too much longer.

Thanks again.