Title: Lose Yourself
Author: Lovenyx125 (Moi)
Fandom: Twilight
Rating: MA
Pairing: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Disclaimer: I don't know Edward. I don't know Bella. I don't own either one of them or the other characters in this story. I don't mean to cause harm, confusion, or headaches. I am merely writing this for the pleasure of my readers and myself. Also, please don't sue me…I don't do well in jail and I have no money. Void where prohibited.
Summary: Edward, a feared entity in the Mafia circle, has clawed his
way to the top over a biting past rooted in poverty and criminal activity.
When Bella, a girl born to privilege, finds herself wanting to help him fight
his demons, she quickly realizes that perhaps her existence is the very thing
he despises.
Authors Note: Hi guys! I recently had this idea for a story when I was working on Trails of Dreams so I decided to give it a try. My wonderful Beta is Mockingjay272. I will try to write consistently and a lot. I would love positive and constructive criticism in reviews or even a PM. Or if you have questions you can ask through, again, reviews and PMs. I don't wish to sound needy but I will tell you now that I thrive on reviews. Usually the more reviews I get means I am more inspired and motivated to write more. If you like this fanfic please recommend it to your buddies. I really want to spread the love. Also, please check out my other fanfic, Trails of Dreams.
Next Update: Friday, September 7th, 2012
Lose Yourself
Chapter 1: Almost
Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
~ Eminem, Lose Yourself
[EPOV]
18 years ago…
The sky was crying and crying. It's tear falling hard and fast on the streets of Chicago. Everything in sight was soaked from the brick walls and concrete floors to the cars and people going by. Everyone was in a rush; some to get home, some to meet others for dinner, and some just going along with the crowd. This was Chicago and much like New York City, everything was crowded and everybody was in a rush. No one ever stopped to take an actual look at his or her surroundings. They never noticed the homeless littered in the entrances of alleys. Even those who stood under the shelter of the roofs of restaurants and stores that stuck out didn't notice what or who was around them. They were all so self absorbed to notice anything but themselves.
I stood in the alleyway, hidden by darkness and people's obliviousness. The roof of the restaurant I stood next to gave me good shelter from the rain and two buildings I stood between protected me from the cold wind. It didn't mean I wasn't cold though. I was shivering as I slid down to the ground, my back scraping the brick wall painfully. I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to ignore the tremors rippling through me. I could feel the cold in my bones. My clothes were sopping wet and clung to my skin. I knew that anyone who saw me would scream. I looked terrifying. My ribs stuck out like a red rose on a white paper. My skin, a sickly yellowish colour, was sticking to my bones giving me the look of a corpse. Mud and grime stuck to my fingernails and my hair while I wished desperately for a warm bath. How long had it been since I had one? Months? A year? Who knows? I had lost track of time ever since I had run away from that wretched place.
Though I did know when I had last eaten. Four days. It had been four days since even a morsel of food had entered my mouth. The constant, throbbing ache in my stomach and the painful weakness of my entire body didn't let me forget that. My body was destroyed beyond fixture. I was malnourished and about to get pneumonia.
I didn't dare go to sleep, afraid I wouldn't wake up from the nightmarish slumber. Though, the idea that I wouldn't wake up did have a certain appeal to it. To never have to return to my horrendous life of the streets. To never have to be treated like scum or ever go hungry. It had a very beautiful appeal.
My eyelids began to drop despite cold and I let out a shuddering yawn. I just really wanted to go to sleep. Perhaps I could lean against the dumpster that was a mere foot away.
So with the little remaining energy I had left, I crawled over to the dumpster. The palms of my hands ached when they pressed against the rough and rocky ground. I sat with my back against the wall and my head leaning to the side on the dumpster.
Again my eyelids began to flutter close but a loud bang brought my body back to life. Light filtered into the alleyway from the other side of the dumpster. Slowly, I leaned over and poked my head out from the side of the dumpster. I saw a man in white come out of the side door of the restaurant with burnt loaves in his hands. My stomach growled loudly at the sight of food. The man looked up and glared at me.
"Shoo! Run away you filthy piece of street scum! Don't dirty the property of this restaurant with your disgusting body. Shoo!" he shouted in a French accent.
I cringed and crawled back to lean against the wall and the dumpster. I heard the man throw the burnt bread into the dumpster and leave but he left the door open. I knew I should wait until the door was closed but the hunger in my body took over my mind.
Faster than I had moved all day, I crawled to the front of the dumpster and stood up on shaky legs. I jumped and gripped the edge of the dumpster. I was slightly tall for a seven year old but I was still smaller than the dumpster. With all my weight on my hands, I peered in and smiled faintly at the loaves of bread. I griped on with one hand and used the other hand to grab the bread. I left go and fell to the ground. Immediately, I started stuffing my face with the bread. Despite being charred, it tasted wonderful though I'm sure in my current state, even cardboard would taste great. I was so busy eating that I didn't even notice the cook come back.
He picked me up by the scruff of the neck and I glanced up at him in fear. I clutched the remaining bread hard to my chest and winced when he started yelling.
"You rotten fool. Thief! How dare you steal the bread? Disgusting filth like you give Chicago a bad name! You thief! You piece of scum! Go die in a sewer!"
Before I could beg him or say anything he threw me to the ground. I fell hard of my back. I tried to get up but the cook kicked me in the stomach.
I groaned in pain but he continued to kick me everywhere he could get his foot. I felt blood pour from my nose and I was pretty sure it was broken. I heard and felt my ribs crack from repeated kicks.
Every time he hit me, he yelled, "Scum! Filth! Thief! Disgusting!"
Every part of my body was groaning in pain but the chef didn't stop. I was covered in blood and I kept screaming, "Stop! Please! I'm sorry! I beg of you! Stop! Please!"
The man was cruel and heartless as he kept kicking me. I was pretty sure he was trying to kill me. Eventually, I stopped screaming and I could feel myself slipping from unconsciousness. Death was coming. I could feel it. I smiled inwardly at the thought of no more pain and hunger. No more cold and weakness. No more insults and death threats. No more me. No more Edward Anthony Masen.
"STOP!"
And that's when I woke up gasping for air. Sweat dripped from my body, mixed with the tears flowing down my cheeks. This wasn't the first time I dreamt about the time I had died.
Almost.
