AN: Howdy. If there are people here that are following me from part 1, you're awesome. ;) and if you're a new reader, welcome! I would recommend that you read part one to this story called Bloodflowers as this is the sequel as things might get confusing. As always, thank you to my beta, Jen, who makes me step back and really think about the quality of this story. I love you.

Disclaimer for all chapters: I own nothing.

PART II: VERMILLION

Prologue:
Chapter Song: Lonely Soul by Unkle

"Hell is oneself. Hell is alone. The other figures in it, merely projections.

T.S Eliot

BPOV:

Where on earth am I?

I shrank down into the velvet couch that was placed in the center of a small room. The walls were completely tiled. The smell of rotting fruit was overwhelming. There were no windows, only candlelight dimly lighting designated areas of this derelict room. There was a large, dirty mirror and a clock above it directly in front of me.

I stared at my reflection, only seeing myself from the chest up. There was something very wrong.

I looked as if I had died.

My face no longer was round, all my baby fat gone. My normally stained cheeks showed no sign of color. My skin clung to my bones, almost making me look skeletal. There was no fat on me at all. Why am I so skinny? The light that was normally in my eyes had burned into oblivion.

I was suddenly very aware of my surroundings. I could hear every noise, see every piece of furniture (or lack thereof) and the way that fear lingered in the air was damp on my lungs. I shifted uncomfortably, the smooth velvet couch making no sound from my agitated movements. I stared nervously at the clock, growing increasingly anxious for reasons I did not know.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

I looked down at my hands and yelped.

My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't control it even if I could work up the energy to do so. My hands were stained with dried blood and my wrists were firmly bandaged. Fresh blood stained the white fabric. My breaths came out in frantic pants, beads of sweat dripping down my neck.

What the fuck is happening?

"He'll be here soon, Isabella." A melodic, but lifeless voiced spoke in a near whisper. I nearly screamed when I saw ruby eyes staring at me. She looked exactly the same as the last time I saw her. Messy, dirty hair. Baggy, blood stained shirt. The dead look in her eyes...

"Malice?" I asked in a whisper, far too afraid to speak any louder. It was as if the walls could hear my every word.

He's always punctual." the same voice, but different, more alive, sounded to my left. I didn't have to look to know who it was. I slowly turned to my left, where Malice was now looking. If Malice was here, then it could only be Alice. My imaginary Alice. Her grey eyes were alert and wide. A storm was brewing behind her irises.

"He's never been late. Not once."

"Do you think he'll do what he said he would last time?" Malice was staring at Alice without actually looking at her. Her red eyes were glowing in this dimly lit space. I was still shaking terribly, trying to piece this complicated puzzle together. I didn't have any pieces at all, and I was left scratching my head. This was just not making any sense. "You remember, don't you, sister?"

"If course I do. And don't call me sister." Alice hissed.

"Oh come on now," Malice scolded Alice. She sounded like she might die of boredom. "You and I have grown to be quite close in recent times. We both realize that we are simply liabilities in the scheme of things. There's a bigger threat in the picture."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I didn't receive an answer.

"He's never late." Alice whispered again.

I pinched my arm, trying to wake up from this dream. This had to be a nightmare, right? A scary as hell, lucid and vivid nightmare that was scaring the living daylights out of me. Instead of waking up, I was greeted with the sharp pinch of skin between my nails. I groaned and sank even further into my seat. I could feel Alice scooting closer to me, and Malice staring at me with a look in her eye I couldn't decipher.

"What are you doing?" Malice asked me invidiously. She was playing with a letter opener, grinning with delight as she accidentally sliced her finger open. Specks of blood trickled down her finger. She licked the blood away. "Ooh, goodie."

"And you called us sisters. You're sick. I hope you know that."

"I really wish you'd just fuck off already."

"You're not real so why don't you fuck off."

"Uh, newsflash? You're not real either. We can see which one of us is brighter in the brain department."

"Just a dream, just a dream." I kept whispering as my hands covered my ears. I was rocking back and forth like a child cowering from the monster under their bed. Why am I here? Maybe this isn't a dream... This felt too real to be a hallucination... Maybe I have well and truly lost the plot here.

"You've always been a little crazy, even before I died." Alice said sadly.

"But you never died."

"Everybody dies, Bee."

"Shrinks are blaming it on her abusive upbringing." Malice muttered as she wiped her blood stained fingers on my jeans. I shuddered in discomfort as she smiled insidiously. "Load of bullshit, if you ask me."

"Would you just shut up?" I cried out as the clock chimed three times; the signal of a new hour. The door opened immediately and the three of us snapped our heads toward the direction of the man now standing in the doorway. Loud, confident footsteps echoed in my eardrums as he sat down across from me. My heart was beating so loudly I feared it would explode from my aching chest.

Why wasn't he looking at me?

"Edward, what am I doing in here?" I asked, immediately standing up. Both Malice and Alice grabbed my hands and pulled me back down to sit. When I was about to ask what their problem was, the words died right in my throat.

There was something wrong with Edward.

"I've asked you many a time not to call me Edward, Isabella. You know that is not my name. And you know exactly why you are here."

"I don't understand..."

He sighed, and finally looked at me. The blood that ran freely in my veins froze in place. I couldn't breathe. Edward was... is... Dead.

His flesh was decaying, his hands already skeletal. His clothes were covered in maggots and dirt. His lips were blue and rotting. The smell of rotting fruit was so repugnant I dry retched. He stared at me malevolently, as if somehow wishing me to drop dead on the spot.

"You know why you are here." He repeated.

"No... You're... Dead."

Malice inhaled sharply while Alice groaned loudly.

"You really shouldn't have said that." Alice sighed.

"If I can't call you Edward... What do I call you then?"

"Doctor Masen is sufficient enough."

"I call him Deadward. Suits him perfectly don't you think?" Malice said cheerfully.

"I think the name is fucking stupid." Alice muttered.

"Well he is dead, so it makes sense. And you're one to talk, naming me Malice. I mean, come on!"

I couldn't concentrate on anything but Doctor Masen. There was nothing left of the man I loved here, just hate manifested into this dead being. I didn't know why I was here or what he wanted with me. He tossed aside his pen and paper and slowly walked toward me. He was taunting me, wanting me to cower in fear.

It worked.

I whimpered as Edward knelt in front of me, stroking my cheek sadistically. His bones felt jagged and rough against my skin. He smiled and leaned closer.

"Wake up, Isabella." He whispered, just centimeters away from my lips.