Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight, or any of it's characters.

Full Genre List- angst/Hurt-comfort/romance/drama/something else I can't really explain.

Full Summary- Isabella Swan, the heartbroken author, sits alone, writing in her attic. Her life is slowly declining, and she fears what will happen next. She is seventeen, and the final blow is struck. With one small noise, and 13 steps down a curving staircase, her life shattered before her eyes. She is so alone. Only morphine can help to numb the pain, but only Jasper Whitlock can heal Isabella's.

Funeral For Yesterday

The cold, dark wood felt smooth against my skin, and I drew inspiration from the freezing cold filling the attic in which I was sitting. Shivers erupted up my arms, and I gasped, quickly writing in the small black book sitting on the desk before me. I ran my hand lightly over the ink, sighing as I felt the deep imprints when I had pressed my pen deeply into the paper.

A heard a light creak from downstairs, telling me that someone had opened the front door. Why would anyone be leaving? It was 3 am, and I was the only one awake. After exactly 13 seconds of delay, I stood up, closing my book but leaving the desk lamp on. I opened the door, and started walking down the steps, counting as I went. Force of habit. There was 13. Another noise caused me to move faster, careful not to trip.

You're growing cold
The end is near
I know it's sad
It's true my dear
What's one more blow to seal this fate
And what's one more nail
It's getting late
So check our pulse

A familar scream drifted towards me, and I ran to the living room, pausing in horror at what I saw there.

My older sister was struggling against the man that held her, one hand clamped over her mouth as she fought. A second man held my mother, a knife held to her throat, her eyes wide as she fought the urge to scream. Standing directly across from this pair was two men holding my father's arms behind his back as he fought to get to my mother.

I had to do something. Knowing I might be killed, I ran directly into the middle of the chaos.

Keep our hearts from breaking
Beating still six feet deep
A funeral for all the love we've lost
We'll bury yesterday
Things I've never said before
Always six feet deep

One of the men let go of my father, and rushed towards me, wrapping one arm around my throat. I reached back with my free hand, and grabbed two of his fingers pulling forward, as they bent backwards. I heard two simultaneous cracks, and he let out a low curse, before pulling me closer to him.

Meanwhile, my father had gotten free, and rushed at my mother's captor. One word echoed through my mind. No! I screamed the word to my father, but he refused to heed my warning. Then, seconds later, my mother's throat was slit, less than two feet from us. I screamed, and my captor clapped a hand over my mouth.

I bit him, and threw my arm back, my elbow hitting the lower right hand side of his ribs. He sank to the floor, and I rushe dto my mother's side. Bang! One last shot, and I became a 17 year old orphan, my mother's throat slit, and stained a terrifying crimson; my father laying on the floor beside my, a single bullet sunk into the back of his head.

Buried alive I soon grow weak
One last embrace
Then never speak
Death warrant signed
Lying in state
This coffin is lined
It's never too late to check our pulse

I closed my eyes as my sister was dragged from the room. The only reason she wasn't already dead was because she had "use" to them. But I could not fight them. I was outnumbered by far, and all alone in the world. No morphine was enough to numb this pain. Tears streaked down my face, and I knew death was going to come. The only wonder was why it hadn't yet happened.

A cold wind swept my hair back from my face, but I fought to keep my eyes closed, sobbing into my hands. I heard a man cry out, but was too far out to care.

Until all was silent, and the pain eased back to the point of just below overwhelming. I could think, and nothing more.

Keep our hearts from breaking
Beating still six feet deep
A funeral for all the love we've lost
We'll bury yesterday
Things I've never said before
Always six feet deep

Cold arms wrapped around me, and I began to fought. Then I realized something. They aren't restraining; they are comforting. No longer caring what happened to me, I turned, pressing my face into the beautiful stranger's shoulder.

"Why me?! Why am I the only one who ever lives, the only one that faces pain like this? Why don't I ever get the ease of death?" I sobbed, begging this man for answers.

"Because it is not fate for you to die. You have been hurt, and you aren't allowed to die until you get the happiness that you truly deserve Isabella." His voice was like silk, his breath was cold. The freezing temperature was unnatural, and I automatically reached behind me, my hand fluttering over my father's hand. Him, and this strange man were the same temperature... the essence of death.

Oh You're growing cold
Oh you're growing cold

Tears are a sign of sadness, a sign of passing, of change. Emotions on the other hand, show a personal opinion. Sadness, sorrow, grief, depression. All words that mean the same to some, and yet I knew the differences. I also knew that this attractive stranger also understood this.

Angst. A simple word, but with a meaning so deep, and so pure that it could not be denied when used. That was all I could use to describe the level of which I was feeling this heartbreak.

But somehow, having the blonde Southern man here, made it feel a small amount better, made me feel like I would not fall apart, crumbling on the floor at any second. No, he made me feel so much more whole than I had a right to be after what I had seen.

Keep our hearts from breaking
Beating still six feet deep
A funeral for all the love we've lost
We'll bury yesterday
Things I've never said before
Always six feet deep

Only during this brief moment of emotional relapse did I finally see that the murderers were dead. I did however see noticable differences.

All the men's throats had been ripped out, every drop shed from their bodies, seeping into the dark, hardwood floors. Their eyes were glassy, and I wondered how this man had possibly accomplished such a feat.

I looked up into the golden eyes of my savior, my morphine, my painkiller. He was an angel in black leather, and I knew in the pit of my stomach, that he was my angel, my Atlantean god.

Keep our hearts from breaking
Beating still six feet deep
A funeral for all the love we've lost
We'll bury yesterday
Things I've never said before
Always six feet deep...

An. There is a couple of things I need to explain.
1.) Isabella Swan is an author that is sitting alone in her attic, trying to find inspiration for her next story when she hears the noise.
2.) 13 as most people know is an unlucky number (E.x. Friday the 13th) and it is used extremely often in this story. It's like the number five for... um.... (Whatever her name is) from Where The Heart Is.
3.) The only reason I came up with this is because I was reading the Dark-Hunter series by Sherrilyn Kenyon, and how something similar happened to Geary and Tory's grandfather when he was only 8 years old.
4.) If you can't tell, the 'blonde, Southern man' is Jasper Whitlock. Alice is in this story, but is not the mate of Jasper.
5.) You'll find out how he knows her name in the third, if not the next chapter.
6.) Jasper's eyes are not red, because he didn't drink their blood, having enough control to only kill them.
7.) Atlantean. Once again from Sherrilyn Kenyon's books, I was thinking a little of Acheron. Atlantean, and kind of dark, yet compassionate for the world that had, in itself, shunned him from their ranks.
8.) I DO NOT OWN THIS SONG! It's The Song "FUNERAL FOR YESTERDAY" by KITTIE.

Please Review!!!!!

Furi (Don't understand? Read my profile.)

aka XxThisxIsxHalloweenxX