Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Ok, so this is TwilightX1984 cross-over. What if 1984 was as the book, and Edward, the vampire was in it. With all his mind reading abilities, rivaling the Party's mind reading. How perfect is it anyway? O'Brian seemed to know what he was talking about. Well, in a society with a lot of torture and no way to escape how will Edward fare? And what if Bella was thrown in? Vampire Bella, after Breaking Dawn. The world just turned into the world of 1984. And it has always been that way (not really you need to read the book to understand). But how can you deny that it hasn't with those perfect vampire memories?
Ignore any other vampire information, Voltori, ect.
EPOV
I stared out the window of my small apartment in Victory Gardens. I couldn't sleep, but as far as anyone knew I slept soundly. The tele-screen was facing my back, so no one would know I was awake or my eyes were open. My face had the perfect mask of emptiness. Being separated from my Bella did that to me anyway.
I heard the siren telling people to awake. I knew that humans had better reasons for wanting to stay in bed, having to sleep. But I couldn't face the world, knowing that my Bella was just a little away from me but forever wouldn't get to be near me.
I sat up in my bed though anyway. I had to keep up pretenses for the tele-screen and the thought police. I knew that their means of 'reading minds' was nothing compared to myself, but it would be difficult to fake that sort of extreme pain.
I turned toward the tele-screen and stood in front.
"Twenties! Up, get up! Move your legs now! You're much younger than me so let's go!" I was faking twenty two now. Of course my actual age was closer to one hundred thirty.
"Come on! Bend down! Touch your toes, don't be lazy! I know you can do it!"
Of course it was completely effortless for me, but still seemingly impossible. I had gone already two weeks without even a glimpse of my Bella. My wife.
My wife.
Even in this world she was not. I knew she was. And she knew she was. Our daughter knew she was our daughter, but I hadn't seen her in a week.
I remembered my other family. I hadn't seen them in years.
We had been separated when the 'war' broke out. I remembered the beginning of Big Brother. There was still nothing that I was to do about it.
If only I had my Bella with me.
I knew that I could not though. The Party strictly was against any marriages with physical attraction between the bride and groom. There was no other way to live together without bringing on unwanted suspicions.
Although they could not physically kill me, I still feared the Ministry of Love. For different reasons.
I knew what they did. They tortured you. The would starve a human, interrogate them while beating out answers they could get without violence, and then continue to beat them. Most would be repeatedly bashed until they vomited, then at the point of unconsciousness then abruptly left to heal. This was of course so the person would gain enough strength to endure the beatings and torture to the full.
Still after this the person would be left to their isolated rooms, given almost nothing to eat. But they would take what they got with extreme gratefulness, for it would still be somewhat of an increase for the meals prior to the torture.
After unmarked days, weeks, or months (it was impossible for the prisoner to know time with the constant blinding light coming from ceiling lights that never faltered, their existence was unmarked) of this continuous routine the torture would change.
Though the point of the previous torture was not to entirely interrogate (still there is no question that the people got everything the person knows, down to their personal family history and thought process) but to break them.
And they would.
People were turned into creatures barely human in their form. They would be left to roll on the floor whimpering (they lost the strength to scream) with broken bones, their teeth ripped from their mouths, their heads bashed to the point where they would go hours blind from pain, still rolling with what meager strength they possessed in their own vomit, blood, and tears.
They would resemble skeletons in a sense. Their skin barely protecting them from the outside world. Their thighs thinner than their knees and their shins only skin and bones. Their necks would be weak, almost unable to hold the weight of their heads, like a new born. Their hair would be falling out, no matter their true physical age, for they wouldn't have enough nutrients for it to continue to grow.
Their eyes would be frightening. Seemingly too wide for their faces. But in truth their faces would be not wide enough for their eyes. They would loom over the deep bruises under them. They would look more tiered than even I do when I go weeks without hunting.
But these prisoners would have some hope thrown to them. They would get it from the stories. The passed around myths. The myths that they would be killed.
They wanted to be killed.
They said to be shot in the back of the head. When one least expects it. Simply walking down the hall, possibly on the way to be interrogated and beaten. They would be shot and killed.
Then forgotten. They never existed.
No one would speak of their existence. They would simply disappear. When they were arrested all records of them ever being born would be burned.
But this would not change anything. Their assumed death would not be mentioned or indicated.
Still their hope of being shot in the back of their heads was a vain hope. Their death was to be much more horrifying.
More horrifying then anyone would have thought possible.
The Nazis of the forties were nothing compared to the Party of today. For while their methods of torture and obedience was somewhat effective, they did not achieve what they wanted.
The people that died were remembered. Those people now are seen with reverence. As heroes. Thought criminals were not.
They are hated, spit upon. And no one will ever remember them. And they had the most important difference with the prisoners of the Holocaust.
They did not die resistant.
Thought criminals died loving their country, they were killed when they had betrayed all loved ones, and they loved Big Brother.
Nothing less.
Prisoners of the Holocaust still hated Hitler, and the Nazi army. They died loving their religion, they betrayed no one.
This was not allowed with the thought criminals. They would love Big Brother. There was no way around it. Rebels were caught, but to kill them would be too kind. That is why the Party goes though the process.
It was sick.
But there was nothing to do but fake life. I knew it was wrong. But no one can know I know. It would lead to my capture.
I know that I can't be killed or tortured. I know that they could never rip out my teeth or break my jaw with their lead pipes and steel bars.
But if they tried they would know my secret.
I sighed.
I had to get to my Bella though. And Renesmee.
But how?
Ok, I know it was kind of short. But I can do better. Just had to get the basics down. I won't usually leave such a long note down here, but when I do please read it. I won't make a chapter authors note if you read the ones at the end of chapters. If you don't read them you won't know when I'll update. I'll let you know down here usually. I'm going to try for tomorrow. Since we don't have school and I don't have anywhere to be. But if not check Tuesday. This is my first fanfic so I'm still figuring out my pattern. If that was too gory for you…sorry. But that was seriously toned down from the book. I mean if the actual book was 'R' for violence this would be like 'PG'. Not kidding.
The next chapters should get more interesting. I'm not sure what I'll write yet but I'm free-lance so we'll see. I'm going for as little OOC as possible but this is Edward without Bella (for now anyway) so he's going to be really angst. And 1984 is too horrible for the adjective 'angst'. So hold onto your stomachs. But really more characters soon. Promise!
R&R Please! Never got one before! Be brutal!
I have edited this story now that I have gotten some complaints. I left this A/N as is, but I will not for the following chapters. So, be aware that all A/N will not be orignals, hence, they will be much shorter.
