The Clarity of Grief
Author's Note: This is a lot darker than the Twilight fan fictions. But I hate doing things that are cliché, so here you go. It was a spur of the moment mini story that I wanted to get out of my head and onto paper…er…the computer. Please read (with an open mind) and review!
"Passion rules us all…and we obey. What other choice do we have?"
EPOV:
I blame myself.
Sure, part of it was her fault. She trusted me to be alone with her. And then she wanted more. We would kiss, passion burning inside of our lips, our fingers wandering over each other. But we would always stop. I made sure of that.
That night I lay beside her in her bed like I did every night. Her breathing was steady, but I could tell she was still awake. Bella usually stirred in her sleep, but she was laying perfectly still. She suddenly turned over to face me.
"Edward?" She peeked at my face as I pretended to sleep. "Faker." I couldn't keep myself from smiling.
"Mmm?" I didn't open my eyes.
"I love you," she whispered. My eye fluttered open and I smiled her favorite crooked smile.
"I love you too," I said, kissing her. Her arms winded around my neck and her fingers tangled in my hair. My hands traveled over all the curves of her body, and I ached for more. "I can't…"
"Don't stop," she begged. Her voice was so desperate and filled with longing. I obeyed.
We lost ourselves in a moment of passion. A moment I wish I could take back. I wanted her body so badly, but her blood more. She screamed, and it wasn't until too late that I realized the cause. I had sank my teeth into her, and taken it all. I had done what she wanted the most, but I had failed.
Charlie wasn't home; that I was thankful for. I buried my face in my hands and cried. What had I done? My beautiful Bella lay lifeless in the bed we shared for so long. I quickly picked her up; she was lighter without life in her body. I was sickened with myself. I knew I had no soul. I knew I was a monster. And Bella was proof.
I was at home before I knew it. Esme was the first to greet me. She didn't say anything; she knew I was punishing myself enough. She only placed her hand on my arm and left. She was crying inside, I could tell. I buried Bella in our backyard, gravestone and all. Charlie thought she ran away. He was so broken. I could only kick myself for losing control, losing Bella.
I lost all reason for existence, yet I would never know the ecstasy of death. It was undeserving for me. I had to live with what I did. I stayed in my room for months, staring out the window at Bella's grave. My family had left. After what happened to Bella, they knew the town would be suspicious, so they fled. Esme and Alice begged me to come with them, but I didn't hear them. I was unresponsive to the outside world. No one knew I still lived in our house. I never left, not even to feed. My body began to eat itself, and yet I still stayed, staring out the window at her.
Because at night, I heard her. She would come for me.
I would sit on the couch in my room facing a small chair. A quilt she had once made for me covered up what was left of my body, hanging from my shoulders. I had grown disgustingly frail and weak, but still I sat. I wouldn't blink, or I would miss her entrance. My room was always dark except for the moonlight that seeped through my window and illuminated the chair. Suddenly, she would be sitting across from me, the right leg always crossed over the left. Maggots crawled across her decaying skin. She may have been missing an eye, but it was always too dark to tell. She chewed what was left of her nails ask she smirked at me. She reeked of death, nothing like my Bella. But yet she was. Every night, she came back to remind me.
"Hello, lover," she whispered.
Okay, Bella wasn't dug up. Ew. Somehow her corpse just comes back at night to remind Edward of what he did. Use your imagination, and then review, review, review:-)