ACT II

He watches her, entraced with her every step. He's marvelling at her beauty and grace, but he isn't the only one. His heart stops when she wobbles on the tightrope; and the audience gasp. But they are a sick and twisted bunch- as much as they would like to see her succeed, a larger part of them wants to see her plunge to her untimely death.

But the stumble is just an act, one to thrill the audience, and they lap it up greedily. She reaches the end, and curtseys with a flourish. A spilt second later she is whisked away by a dark, handsome man.

The audience marvel at the romance portrayed by this intimate act.

And even though it is just an act, his heart breaks.

Everyone else had settled in for the night. The campgrounds were silent and empty, save for the few who couldn't sleep. I lay in my bed, staring at the wooden ceiling, with her on my mind.

Isabella Swan.

She was the epitome of perfection. But she was an acrobat, which meant she was off limits to me.

The acrobats were the elite, the upper-class performers. They were made for the men who exuded an air of masculinity and strength- not clowns like me. I was no one to her, just another face amongst the chaos of our hectic lives.

But the knowledge that she could never be mine would not deter my stubborn heart. So I continued to pine for her, day after day. And day after day, my heart would ache for this one sided love.

I don't know why I wanted her, but it didn't matter. I was drawn to her regardless. She was beautiful with her mahogany locks cascading down her back, which contrasted nicely against her pale skin. She was petite, but shapely with curves in all the right places. But that wasn't it.

It was her eyes. They were big pools of the warmest brown. I would often find myself drowning in their depths, as I searched for the meaning of my life. But I already knew the answer to that one. She was, of course. I would orient my days around her, volunteering to play the piano as she praticed, to waking up with the sun, like she did.

My fist slammed into the mattress, just grazing my thigh, as I pulled myself out of my revirie. I wanted to be able to touch her, to hold her tight. I wanted her to be mine. I sat up, knowing sleep would evade me once more. I groped around in the darkness, searching for a pair of pants, slipping them around my waist before stepping out into the cool night breeze.

My eyes flitted across the grounds, not wanting to be seen by those still awake. My eyes flickered over to the Quilutes wagons, it figures they would be the only ones awake. I scowled quietly. I wasn't overly fond of them.

So I headed in the opposite direction.

I stopped in a small patch of freesias, pickingup a small bunch. I would place them by her bedside, just before she awoke. I was acting no better than a stalker, but I didn't have the guts to leave a note either. It was then I saw her.

She sat among the lush green grass, humming a sweet melody. It entranced me and I listened to the honey dripping from each note. Her head was tilted towards the glittering heavens, gazing beyond the starlit skies. Her pale skin radiated under the moon's light. She was, as always beautiful, stealing my every breath away as I watched her. I watched as her shoulders rose and fell with every steady breath, and as her pale fingers knotted themselves with the grass.

I gathered the little courage I had, and took a step towards her. My hands clutched the bunch of freesias tightely, bruising the fragile stems slightly.

The gentle night breeze washed over me, and I watched as it swept up her hair, swishing it with perfect harmony to the long grasses around her.

I took another step, only to stop when his loud obnoxous voice broke through the silent atmosphere. I ducked behind the nearest tree, annoyed he had stolen the perfect opportunity. I couldn't watch, I didn't want to see whether she would accept him or not. I'm not sure my heart could stand seeing her happy with someone else But curiosity won out and I allowed myself to peek at the scene playing out before me.

He was striding up to her, every step displaying an air of confidence my steps could never hold. Behind his back, he held a bunch of red roses, each petal stiff with absolute perfection. He reached her, his mouth uttering words too soft to hear. She flashed him a brilliant smile, patting the grass beside her, and he flopped down, flourishing the bouquet at her. He cheeks flushed crimson, an action which made my blood boil with jealousy. How I longed to be the one to make her cheeks that delightful colour. I watched him trace his fingers around her cheeks, along her jaw line. But it wasn't until she giggled, that I felt the need to run; the jealousy was slowly turning into a bloodlust. So that's just what I did. Dropping my insignificant gesture of love, I ran back to the field the wagons were parked, and didn't stop until I was under the covers, sobbing myself to sleep.