Same M warning as the last chapter! Thanks mcc101180 and BelleDuJour for your awesome beta work :)

EPOV
Chicago, 1919

"I am sorry, Edward, but we should go. There is nothing left here for you."

"I want to see her. Where is she buried?"

For his own good, I need to get him out of here. Distance and time are what he needs right now. In five years, he will not even remember the girl.

"You are wrong about this, Carlisle." I bit back the snarl that formed in my throat. "You lived your human life chasing witches and werewolves, the son of a pastor. I spent mine growing up knowing who I was going to marry, who I wanted to spend my life with. I may forget most of my human memories, but I will not forget her."

I am sorry. I am just still in awe of you, of what you felt—feel for her. You were lucky to have her. Cherish her memories as long as you have them. I know that we came here in hopes of finding her alive, but she is dead. I can clearly see how much this hurts you. There is no need for you to go to her resting place. It is just going to make the pain worse.

"Just tell me," I pleaded again. He was thinking of what else to say when the name of the cemetery briefly flashed in his thoughts. He quickly thought of something else, but I had heard enough. I ran out of the house, leaving Carlisle standing alone in what was once my family's music room.

It took me a few minutes to find her, and a part of me wished I had listened to Carlisle. She was buried with her parents, who in turn were buried right next to me. Our graves were side by side, but I knew there was no one in mine. A pain worse than my thirst coursed through me—she was truly gone. The realization brought me to my knees in front of Bella's grave.

Isabella (Bella) Marie Swan
September 13, 1901 – September 13, 1918
Cherished daughter of Charles and Renee Swan
Eternal beloved of Edward Anthony Masen, Jr.

A scan of the dates on the other graves brought up a fresh wave of pain. My Bella had died alone. She lived long enough to witness the passing of our parents.

"It is not fair! You were so young. I am so sorry, so very sorry, Bella. I should have stayed, I should have listened to you," I whispered, resting my fingers against her carved name. Had I stayed, we both would have most likely fallen victim to the flu. At the very least, we would have died together. As much as I lashed out at him, Carlisle was right. I have seen firsthand the haziness in his thoughts when he thinks about his human life.

"Edward, we have to go, the sun is about to rise." I have been standing here for quite some time. I cannot believe that you did not hear my thoughts.

I let him pull me to my feet. In all honesty, I wished that the threat of the sun was a real thing to our kind. I would lay here and let its rays claim me. It was not fair that I lived when I felt so dead and hollow.

"We can leave Chicago tonight. As soon as the bank opens for business, I will wire out the money in my account here, settle our final affairs. We can go wherever you want. I will let you decide."

I nodded, receding deeply into my own thoughts. Just like Carlisle said, there was nothing here for me. The Edward who left chasing boyish heroic dreams died last year. Everything that tied me to that boy had long been laid to rest in this cemetery. The emptiness I felt was all the reminder I needed.

New York, 1935

Oh, I so hope that Edward and Rosalie like each other. I wish he had come home sooner when we called him. I do not like it when he goes off by himself for so long; it is not healthy. Well, maybe it was for the best. She is not a newborn anymore, so they can probably make a better match now that she can focus on something else besides blood.

The first wave of Esme's thoughts stopped me mid-run—Carlisle turned another person? I was stunned, but quickly recovered, focusing my thoughts on the newest member of the family. Rosalie was not fond of this life; however, she did take comfort in the ethereal beauty bestowed upon us. I also noticed that she was a loud projector of whatever she was currently thinking, and if we were to live together, I would have to take great pains to tune out her thoughts. I went over Esme's thoughts and was horrified when I pieced it all together. Had Carlisle changed the girl with the hopes of her becoming my mate? I had half a mind to turn around and run back west.

Ah, Edward is near, I can sense him! Hurry home, son!

I frowned as my escape plot died as quickly as it was hatched; Carlisle had already felt my approach. I walked the rest of the way home, purposely giving myself an extra few minutes to think. The more I thought about things, the more all desire to see my parents dissipated—the absolute gall, the nerve of those two! I took an immediate dislike to Rosalie. Her thoughts were like those of countless other socialite women, who only thought about themselves. What were they thinking? Even if the ghost of Bella did not haunt me, I would never fall for a woman like that.

I knew the second when Esme and Rosalie sensed me; I heard movement in the house as my mother moved to open the door. "Welcome home. I have missed you," she said, enveloping me in a tight embrace. For a moment, I forgot that I was supposed to be upset with her. It was hard to begrudge her action when I knew that it was not done maliciously.

"Edward, there is someone I would like you to meet. Come, let us step into the living room." I stepped quickly out of Esme's embrace and walked stiffly toward the living room. Rosalie's thoughts were a loud buzzing in my head that only intensified once we were both in the same room.

"Hello, Rosalie. Welcome to the family." I held the desire to smile at her shock. She was told of my particular talent, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.

You can hear my thoughts?

"Yes."

"Everything?"

"Completely and thoroughly, Miss Hale," I replied.

Edward! What are you doing? You are startling the poor girl!

I cocked my head in Carlisle's direction at his unspoken comment. "Why would she be startled? She knows what we are, what I am. I just simply read her thoughts—it is what mind readers do. That being said, can you or Esme please explain what you were thinking when she was made?"

"I was saved from dying in a ditch due to the actions of the man who was supposed to marry me and his friends."

I am the most beautiful thing in this room. How dare he—how dare you not acknowledge it? Oh, and to think about how beautifully Esme spoke about you, clearly you are not as smart as she made you out to be.

"Pardon me, but are you actually offended that I am not lavishing attention on you because you are pretty? Can you be any more vapid?"

"Edward, are you hungry? Did you eat on your way here?" Esme interjected, obviously trying to break up the brewing fight. "Would you like to go for a run?"

"Maybe he is," Rosalie replied for me, clearly put off that I was not worshiping the ground she stood on. "It would explain his odd behavior."

I did not take the bait, refusing to play the blonde's childish games. "No, I ate something yesterday, so I am not hungry, Esme. Is my room ready?"

"Yes, but since you were away when Carlisle and I moved to New York, we left most of your personal items boxed up. Rosalie was kind enough to help me unpack your books and pictures over the last few days." I bristled at the notion that the blonde had touched my things. I did not want her smell all over them—I did not even want to be in the same room with her.

xxx

The first few weeks back reminded me why I had grown fond of taking periodic trips that became longer and longer each time I left. Rosalie was insufferable, but we made a tentative peace for the sake of our adoptive parents. All her insults were mentally directed at me, and it only made her angrier when I ignored her. I made it a point never to be alone with her, because any time that occurred, her mind would eventually ponder why and how it was possible that I simply did not find her exquisite. Whenever Esme and Carlisle would leave, I would retire to my room and stay there until they returned. I ignored her as much as possible.

I still cannot fathom why Edward does not like me. I am pretty. No, I am gorgeous. I am a great dancer, and a good conversationalist. I even play the piano, although he does it far better than I do. Could it be because of that girl I saw in the picture in his room? Oh, that is silly. That girl is probably no older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that photo. It simply cannot be her; she is a child and was clearly not pretty. In fact, she is rather plain—

"Shut up! You are not allowed to think about her ever!" I was in her face before it even registered in my head that I had moved. With a snarl, Rosalie pushed me back, sending me flying across the living room. I landed with a thud on floor.

"Do not ever dare get into my face like that again!" She yelled, her thoughts were angry, but not because I picked a human over her. While that offense would never be forgiven, my initial violent reaction to her thoughts was what set her off. For a second, she was frightened, her mind flared with images of her ex-fiancé and his friends, and she compared my actions to theirs.

I was appalled that she would think that. "I am nothing like Royce or his friends. You made me angry, but it was not my intention to scare you."

All you men are alike. You probably think I deserved what happened to me.

"No! What the hell is wrong with you, woman? You may be infuriatingly annoying, and frankly I do not care much for you at all, but what happened to you was horrendous!"

I almost felt the anger seep out of her, only to be replaced by her indignation that the reason I was not all over her when we met was because I pined for someone else. I did not even need to pick at her thoughts—her revulsion was plain on her face.

"Really? You are pining for a human? That picture must have been taken in 1914, maybe 1915? She has to be in her thirties by now, probably already married if her father managed to tie some poor man to her…"

"Shut up, just shut up, Rosalie!" I pushed myself up from the floor and moved farther away from her. Just looking at her disgusted me. "The girl in the picture was my best friend before she died. Unlike you, I did not attach myself to someone I did not know simply because they were the best catch in town! I knew the person I love," I sneered at her. "Your beauty is only skin-deep. Everything else about you is disgustingly ugly. You hate being a vampire? Well, you are not the only one—every time I look at you, every single time you lament your change, I think that immortality would have been better gifted to her. My world would have been better for it."

"Love? You love her? You were probably just an infatuated brat!"

"At least I am not infatuated with my looks," I replied hotly. "Does anyone even miss you, Rosalie? That plain girl that you quickly dismiss has someone who mourned her passing. That is love, and if you ever find a mate, I will make sure to give him my condolences." I left the house the second I was done. I was not going to endure being under the same roof with her anymore. I ran until my head was blissfully silent with only my own thoughts to keep me company.

As soon as I sensed my parents nearby, I sought them out to explain why I was leaving again. Esme's thoughts were not too happy with my decision, but for once, I really did not care.

"You know Rosalie is right about one thing, son." I stared incredulously at Carlisle. "No, do not look at me like that. She is right in what she said about you pining. As long as you mourn the girl, you are living half a life."

"So I should just forget her? Is that what I should do? Return to the house with you two and take up with Rosalie? You have to be joking…" I replied bitterly.

"Well, definitely not Rosalie since you two can barely be civil to one another—" As Carlisle droned on, I wondered why he did not notify me sooner of her change.

"So the fact that you wanted to surprise me with a new mate was the reason why you never called me when you changed her? I would have come home sooner."

"No, she was not just changed for you. She was dying when I found her." The state I found her in, it was horrible. That is why I allowed her to seek out vengeance, even if it goes against my principles. After she got her revenge, she settled down. That is when Esme and I thought that you two would make a lovely pair. She is beautiful and graceful, and she plays the piano.

"She is vain, she is shallow, and the majority of her thoughts concern her needs and wants."

"You do not like her because you can hear her thoughts. If it was not for your talent, you would be enamored by her looks." Esme butted in, standing up for Rosalie.

"Indeed, she is very pretty—we cannot forget to mention enough times how pretty she is, but that is all she has to offer. I would not like her anyway, even if I did not know the contents of her thoughts. Her vanity pours out of her, Esme."

"Maybe you two got off on the wrong foot—"

"Enough!" I yelled and felt instantly chastised when she flinched at my outburst. For once, something other than calmness flickered across Carlisle's face.

"I do not care for the tone you are taking with my wife," he replied.

"And I do not care that you two are doing the same thing that my human parents did to me! You read my diary and letters to me, Carlisle. You of all people should know that I do not react well when people try to mettle in my life."

"I am sorry, I just wanted to see you happy—" Esme's apologetic tone made me feel like the worst sort of cad.

"I apologize for yelling at you. I know that ultimately your intent was pure. I just cannot deal with this right now. I am leaving. I will phone when I have settled in." Without looking back, I walked away from my parents again.

Ohio, 1942

I held the cup of coffee between my hands, playing along with the other humans who needed something warm to ward off the bitter winter chill. The U.S. was at war again, and that was the main thing on the minds of those around me.

I do not care what my mama says, I am enlisting tomorrow!

I turned slightly to catch a glimpse of the boy whose thoughts mirrored my own silly thoughts decades ago. Humans did not change; they were still driven by the same forces. Did he even know what he was going into? I looked away, seeking another mind whose thoughts were not driven by the war.

Oh, James, you are a damn fool. Stay, just stay here in the middle of nowhere, safe with your ma and me. I just have a horrible feeling about all of this. I wish you knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling—if you did, you would not be so headstrong about going off to war.

The thoughts of the girls and women being left behind were especially torturous. They only served to remind me that I had left Bella behind. It bothered me that I could no longer remember what she sounded like. The memory of what she looked like grew hazier with every passing year.

I dug my fingers into my thigh as I heard the waitress' thoughts. Had my Bella felt like this when I left her? I tipped my coffee, spilling the contents on the newspaper as the waitress, Victoria, sighed and rushed over. I felt sorry for her, for James, for all of them that were going to die needlessly. I pulled out enough cash to cover the bill and a large tip and just left her standing there. In a few months or so, if her James had his way, he would be dying in a ditch in Europe or the Pacific.

Damn brat, I wish you would get drafted, thinking you are a man. Next time you get in my way when I am teaching your whore mother who is the boss, I am going to break my fist on your face.

The man's vile thoughts were as sickening to me as the rest of his ilk, but what was most shocking was that I knew the man—knew of him. Time had not been kind to Esme's first husband. The physically dominating man was gone, and in his place was left an old brute. While I had held hard onto every human memory, she was too happy to let go of hers, opting instead to make new ones with us to be rid of everything that had to do with her ex. I quickened my pace, lest I gave into my urge to snap his neck in the middle of his diner.

xxx

It was a strange thing to see the country go off to war again. Another set of thoughts bother me, mainly because if I listen to them, I am in danger of violating Carlisle's rule about not drinking human blood. As more men left for war from the sleepy little town that I was currently living in, the louder the thoughts of those that I should ignore got. How were they any different from the animals that I feed off? Charles Everson was an animal that walked on two feet. Too old to go to off to war again, he relished as men he thought were competition were drafted.

I made the decision to kill him the morning I came into the diner and saw his wife with a vicious welt that shut her entire eye. To everyone who asked, she simply stated that she fell down trying to change a light bulb. The truth played out in flashes in her head every time she looked at her husband. Around the diner, within sight and earshot of human clients, Charles played the doting, concerned husband. It was a different scene when no one was around.

Esme's ex-husband loved to drink, and he loved gambling whatever money the diner made. If there was something he loved more than beating on those weaker than him, it was winning his card games. As I contemplated all the ways to kill him, I decided that mere death was too kind—he had to pay what he did to Esme, what he was doing to his wife, what he had done to all the women he had ever lifted a finger against.

It was easy to infiltrate the gambling den that Charles considered his home away from home. In a week, I out-played him twice. He recognized me from the diner, thinking I was going to be an easy win. The first time he lost, he called it a fluke. The second time, he said that beginner's luck was a beautiful thing to see. As the night progressed, and I handed him nothing but crushing defeat, he started to turn. I was accused of cheating. He suspected that I was counting cards, and as I won hand after hand, the accusations mounted.

After wiping the floor with him, I cashed out and bid the folks good night. I left knowing he was going to come after me. I wanted that; in fact, for the first time in a long time, I felt alive. I felt good. He thought he would easily overpower me, but how wrong he was. His thoughts turned from all the violent things he was planning to do, to sheer horror.

"You are hurting my arm! Look man, you can keep the money. I do not care, I have more." I will just take it from the diner. If the bitch says anything, I will give her another shiner.

"It is disgusting the casual way you dismiss women. Your wife works hard, and I bet the diner would be doing better if you were not stealing from it all the time." I smiled at the panic in his thoughts, the sheer fear that was eating at him. "It is different when you are the one cowering in fear, is it not? Your wife is terrified of you, much like you are of me right now."

I tightened the grip on his arm, the bone quickly snapping. I cracked his jaw when my hand fell over his mouth to cover his scream. "You like violence, Everson. Why are you scared? Is it very different when the broken bones are yours? How will you explain this to others when they ask?"

He was whimpering, but with a broken jaw, it was impossible to understand what he was saying. "Do not talk; your thoughts are annoying enough. I have wanted to do this for a long time. You are just lucky that Esme was able to hold my hand so long."

Esme? That bitch died years ago! Damn punk is high off something. Did my wife hire this kid? How the hell does he know about Esme?

It took everything in me to not rip his throat out as I read his thoughts. I took comfort in the agony that replaced his thoughts when I slammed my foot against his leg.

"Esme is like a mother to me. I offered to kill you after my father changed her. She was in so much pain because of what you drove her to do. Can you believe she feels bad for wishing you had died when you were off at war? She took it back, because she felt it was wrong to wish ill upon another person." I laced my fingers with his, tightening my hold until the bones of his fingers popped and snapped.

"Then there is what she was thinking that she did not tell me. She knew that if life had not unraveled as it did, she would have not met my father. Esme is right, but she is too kind to wish you ill. I hope I have been gentle—"

Gentle? What for?

I had something else to say, I knew I did, but I could no longer keep my focus. I had already dropped the body in the dumpster when I realized what his last thought was about. I stared at his vacant eyes. "You were my first kill," I replied to the corpse. As I licked the residual blood on my lips, I knew that animal blood could not compare to human blood. It was mere sustenance, while the blood that coursed through me was pure nourishment. "You will not be my last."


Author's Note

Quick note, while I do mess with the dates a little, Edward's side of story is going to follow the canon somewhat closely. The chapters are probably going to deviate from both Bella and Edward POVs to a singular POV update.

Finally, I'll like to thank everyone for the recs and reviews.