Ok guys, so I'm a little surprised with myself for writing this, mostly because I'm not a Twilight fan, but this story idea just seemed to work better with this pair. So this is me writing my first and probably last Twilight fic. This one is mostly about Jasper, who I feel is an under-developed character. This one comes from a bunch of influences, and it's dark. I'm warning you now. Rated M for language and possible eventual adult themes. Let me know what you think.
Just so you know, Jasper is a human. I promise this info is important.
I'm walking down the street at three in the morning for no particular reason at all, besides the fact that I have no where else to go. At this hour, there's no one outside other than me, which is exactly the way I like it. I hate crowds. There's always gonna be someone who decides to touch me. After…him… I get nervous when people touch me. Which is another reason I prefer to walk the isolated streets at night.
I keep walking, not knowing where I'm headed. How ironic. That's the same way I stumble through life. Ha. Ha. Ha.
I'm lost in my own thoughts by now, and, as they often do, my thoughts drift to the place this all started. The reason I'm all alone. The reason I can't get close to people. It all started with one man.
His name was Gabriel.
Like the angel.
And the irony keeps coming.
He was my first boyfriend ever, and he found me right after I accepted the fact that I'm gay. I suppose that's part of the reason I fell so hard for him. At first he was sweet and caring and romantic. I honestly thought he loved me the same way I loved him: I was totally and completely in love with him. It wasn't until much later that I learned he was in love with my fear of him.
I was only 18, and shy when we met. He was 23. I had gone to a gay bar, just to see what it was about, when he came up to me and offered me a drink. In his bright blue eyes I saw only love.
I fell for him right then, hook, line, and sinker. Now, I've just escaped from what my life became with him. I never thought I'd ever have the courage to leave, and I'm terrified of what will happen when we comes out of his drunken stupor and realizes that I'm gone. Will he come after me? Probably. In fact, since I left yesterday morning, he's probably already searching for me.
I'm startled out of my thoughts by a few bangs louder than anything I've ever heard before, followed by a searing pain in my side. A car shoots past me on the street. I look down to see three bullet holes in my side.
Fuck! Is the first thought that pops into my head. What do I do?
I fall to my knees, leveled by the pain. My mind is racing, trying to figure out what the options are. I look down and see my white shirt is soaked with the blood that's pouring out of my side. I put my hand over the wounds, trying to stop the blood flow, but it's not helping at all.
I look up and down the street, looking for someone, anyone, to help me. But, of course, because of the time, there's no one around. Suddenly, I realize that I'm maybe 300 feet from the parking lot of the nearest hospital. If I can get there, I might stand a chance, but it's a long shot.
I struggle to my feet, trying to ignore the pain in my side and the spinning in my head, stumbling towards the parking lot. It takes all my strength not to cry out in pain.
I make it through the parking lot before I collapse 6 feet from the entrance. I'm just about writhing in pain now, covered in my own blood. So close. But there's no way I can get up again.
Suddenly, I register a man in a white coat walking out of the entrance. "Are you a doctor?" I choke out, cursing my voice. It comes out as a mix of a choked sob and a cry of pain.
He starts mumbling something about checking in for treatment, but when he sees me his eyes widen in shock. He rushes over and kneels in front of me.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
I lift up my hand and show him the blood still pouring out of my side. I think I hear him whisper "Oh my God" under his breath before he focuses again. "Come on," he says gently, "we have to get you up."
Slowly, he helps me off the ground, supporting all of my weight as we make it over to the curb. He gently sets me down, sitting next to me as he yells over his shoulder for a stretcher.
"What's your name?" he asks.
"Jasper" I manage to choke out.
"Okay, Jasper," he says, "My name is Doctor Cullen. But you can call me Edward. We're going to help you."
It's at this point that I lose it. The floodgates open and sobs start racking my body. It isn't until now that I realize his arm has been around me, supporting my weight the whole time, and, more importantly, that I don't care. His touch is reassuring and gentle at the same time, and I find myself leaning into him for support.
"I don't want to die…" I say quietly. I don't realize that he's heard me until I feel his grip on me tighten. "Hey," he says, "Look at me!" his fingers find purchase underneath my chin as he raises my eyes to his. "I'm not going to let you die!" he says fiercely.
And, because I have nothing left to do, I believe him.
The stretcher has arrived, and along with it a flood of people. My anxiety reaches a new level, and Edward must sense it, because he whispers in my ear, "We're not going to hurt you. I know it's hard, but if you don't calm down you're going to bleed faster. Try taking deep breaths. Can you do that for me?"
At that, I nod. I'll at least try. Sometime during my deliberation they moved me onto the stretcher. I panic for a moment, trying to find Edward's face in the crowd. When I do, I grab his hand in a vice grip.
"Don't leave me." I whisper.
He smiles down at me. "Never."
I haven't trusted anyone since Gabriel. But when you're probably going to bleed to death anyway, it can't really hurt, can it? So I take the leap, because, though I can't place it, there's something different about Edward.
Okay, so, what did you think? I never really liked the character of Edward as he is normally portrayed, so I'm going to change him a bit. Please review and let me know what you think!
