Edwards POV

The last few days had been some of the longest in my long life. The quietness and emptiness of the house echoed it's sadness.

Rosalie was still missing, and it didn't make sense.

The others were tracing her scent and path all over the world, as she had spent the prior six months traveling to Paris, London, China, Egypt, Morroco, Brazil.

She'd been everywhere. This was impossible. Obviously something had happened to her. Even so, the executive decision had been made that Bella and I would stay in Forks and wait, in case Rose decided to return home.

I didn't buy that. I knew that was partially why, but someone else could have stayed. They were trying to get Bella and I to re-examine our problems, to talk about the death of our daughter.

I knew by the thoughts of the others, that everyone in my family was beyond heart-broken at the loss of Reneesme, especially Carlisle and Esme' and strangely the most affected was Jasper. I thought it might possibly be due to the fact that he was picking up on the emotions of the others.

I felt like a pariah in my own home, everyone avoided me so that I would not notice that memories of Nessie were constantly on their minds. Bella avoided me too, possibly because I could tell, even without reading her mind, that she was hiding something from me.

She didn't mourn our daughter as I did, and she was remorseless for killing the human. Jasper had told me in confidence that she felt... victorious.

That's what really set me off. How could she feel absolutely no guilt? She'd taken a human life.

What was happening to the woman I loved? How could she do this to me?

Was it what I'd I feared all along? That if she gained immortality she would lose all that I loved about her?

It did not seem so, the first few years after we quelled the Volturi were lived in perfection... our family was perfect...

Now everyting was in ruins, and Bella's reddened eyes were not helping... The picture she'd painted for me was of an old vaggabond drunk with a reckless past. How would she know that, and why would his tainted blood even be overly appealing?

When I had pulled away from Carlisle in the 1920's and fed on human blood, I had drank my fair share of dirty blood.

Usually, of course, human blood was always more appealing than that of an animal, but it didn't really "call to you" as clean blood did.

I still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for every single life I'd ever taken, no matter how monsterous the life.

What truly stopped me from drinking from humans, was taking the life of an innocent. It had been decades since I'd let my mind wander to that fateful night, but my mates actions had made it impossible for me to forget.

I found myself thinking about the last time I'd ever had human blood.

This was a secret I had told no-one, not even Carlisle, something that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

...

It was a cool autumn night in 1922, Washington D.C.

I had decided to hunt. I made a reservation an upscale restaurant, for I found a lot of the most evil men happened to be wealthy or was it that most wealthy men happened to be evil?

I ordered a glass of merlot and a steak that would be easy for me to hide in my napkin as I pretended to eat.

I gave the illusion that I was the youngest son of a wealthy Manhattan steel tycoon as well as heir to a large fortune.

Of course the world being the way it was, everyone was clamoring for my attention.

I claimed to be in town meeting with an old friend.

I was seated at the table with the Mayor and his wife, and few of their "closest friends." Their friends were all congressmen and wealthy business proprietors. I was hoping to find what I was looking for right at my table. I was almost sure I would, but the thoughts of these men weren't evil, dishonest, warped, but not evil.

The blood of the Mayors wife smelled delightful, and I also learned she was having an affair with the Senator from Detriot who was seated to her husbands right. This was not enough for me to take her life though. She was guilty about it, but her husband ignored her, and was never home and frequented prostitutes, yet this was not enough for me to take his life either. They both had caused my throat to burn intensely.

I had to leave, I was having a hard time controlling myself. I excused myself and was going to pretend to use the facilites and then announce that I had recieved a phone call and that I had to return to New York immediately.

I headed towards the Restroom when I caught one of the most disgusting train of thoughts that I'd ever heard.

They were coming from a polished looking man, he was enormous in build, perhaps 6'5 in height and handsomely dressed. He looked like a true gentleman, but he was truly evil. He hurt defenseless women and girls for enjoyment, he was a pure sadist, and an occasional murderer.

I had found my meal.

I inhaled, he smelled fine, he would do, he was leaving right away. I quickly I returned to my table to formally excuse myself from the meal, and headed out of the steak house.

I followed the thoughts and scent of the man from the restaurant until we were very close to each other on a small desereted street in a questionable part of town.

I was about to grab him by the back of the head and show him what dispicable really was, when I noticed that he was planning to do these things yet again, to another girl, tonight.

From his mind I could tell his victim was alive and tied to a bed somewhere and he was headed to her at that moment. It took all of my strength to refrain from killing him right then and there, but I overcame it.

I decided to follow him, kill him, and save his victim.

I silently stalked him until we came upon a four story brick building that looked as if it were a hotel, it turned out to be an illegal brothel.

The brothel was run by a horrible gang of men who had kidnapped young girls from their homes in the night and brought them over state lines.

Most of the girls were young and beautiful, from poor families. They were not the type of girls who would have ended up in this life. Thus they brought in far more money, at least at first.

I peered through the window as five Russian men sat around a table drinking fine wine, and smoking pricey cigars. They had grown fat on the enslavement of these poor girls and rich off of their pain.

I noticed a group of girls, older than the batch I'd noticed upstairs upon arriving as I crept around the upper balcony to keep out of site. I had jumped down into the shrubbery on the ground level and watched as the older girls sat on the floor in their undergarments, playing cards, and smoking out of a large opium pipe.

So that's how they did it, causing the girls to become addicted to narcotics so that they'd never leave.

I wanted to break into the room and rip every single appendage of each of the men's bodies, but I waited, perfectly still.

I could hear the sad thoughts of the older girls, girls who had once been angelic daughters of grocers, lumberjacks, and factory workers, girls who would have once had the chance to be happily married and lived rich lives, full of children and adoring families and friends.

Now these desperate girls were half- nude slumped over an opium pipe and a worn deck of cards, counting the hours until they were forced into bed with a stranger again, hoping he would be sane and handsome, but knowing better.

They were thinking of the new garters they were given, wondering if this was forever yet at the same time yearning for attention from the men at the table.

They were brainwashed, puffing off the opium pipe to clear their minds and allow themselves to wrap up in their game of poker, one of the few freedoms they were afforded.

The men thought of them as dogs, work horses, sex slaves, to be used and abused, nothing more.

The scariest part was the way that they planned to "break" the new girls. To convince them that they could never leave, that no one would want them, that they were damaged goods, worthless whores.

The young redheaded beauty that the man I followed here was thinking of, the one that they would "break" that night was no more than sixteen.

The girl was a cheeful a locksmith's daughter from out west. The tall man for the restaurant had pulled over to ask directions as she was picking wild flowers and she trustingly went up to the car to direct him to his destination. He had then grabbed her and bound and gagged her throwing her to the back of a car. This girl was now upstairs being bathed and having make-up applied by other girls.

I was repulsed, as if they didn't know what was in store for her. As if she were getting ready for a party, and as if the other girls had a choice either.

The disgusting pathetic excuse for a man was getting aroused thinking about the rape and beating he and his comrades would give her later that evening.

He was thinking of the tension the girl felt, not knowing what was coming next. The man couldn't contain himself, he was going to make this happen now. His friends were thinking the same.

I saw them nod to one another and one by one they began to head up the stairs.

I jumped from my post behind a shrub on the first floor gracefully landing on the second story roof, positiong myself so that I could quickly break in , subdue the girl and kill the men before she realized what happened. Then I would carry her out and give her some money, and send her back to her family.

I wished I could save them all. I didn't know if more men were coming back, but I knew these other girls were so far gone. Still, I wished that there was something that I could do.

I saw the men enter the room. The girl was tied to the bed, crying and pleading, the men laughing and getting undressed.

I had to time this just right, I sprung through the window shattering glass across the small bed chamber.

My sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight as I smiled and said " Sirs, this poor girl will not be the one getting violated tonight."

The men looked at me with anger and surprise, the one I had followed to the brothel, drawing a pistol.

"You, boy, I've seen you before." He spat.

"Did you follow me?" He stepped closer with the pistol, aiming at my chest, "I asked you a question, Did you follow me, boy?" He demanded again.

"Yes," I said smiling. " And now your friends are going to follow you to hell."

I lunged and the man fired the pistol in my heart. The bullet bounced off and I bent down to pick it up.

"Adorable" I sneered, obviously unharmed.

The men stepped back running to the door, a mixture of screams, and horror fed responses. One by one I snapped back their heads and drank from their necks.

I could hear the fear in the room, as I was on my final victim, my blood-lust subsiding as I felt almost entirely full. I heard the thoughts of someone I had coincidentally ignored, the girl on the bed. The poor pretty redhead, the one I'd intended to save.

She didn't think she would survive this. She was praying.

I dropped the lifeless body of the over-sized russian like it was a giant rag doll, and wiped the blood from my mouth. I went to over to the edge of the old wooden bed and stared at the girl. She stared back in silence.

How had I forgotten to get her out of the way? How could I have let this sick frenzy consume me. I was just as big of a monster as they were.

She wasn't supposed to see this, she was meant to be blinded. I was going to lock her in the closet then lead her out to safety, but instead she had witnessed the whole thing.

I had ruined her life. She really had no chance now. My heart was heavy as I leaned in and heard her whisper... "Please...Please... My name is Abigail Lawrence, I'm fifteen years of age and I'm from St. Louis ,I have a papa and mama, and a baby sister, and beau that loves me, Please don't kill me. Please I want to go home sir , I won't tell, Please just don't hurt me...I just want to get home to my family"

"I know," I whispered, "but that cannot happen now, I'm a monster, I did this to you, please forgive me"

I gently wiped a tear off of her fragile cheek and moved her wispy auburn hair away from her neck. "I'll make it quick. I'm so sorry" I prayed to God for her soul and sunk my teeth into the largest throbbing vein in her sweet neck.

...

My guilt was still consuming me. I couldn't remember how many times the girl's face had haunted my dreams. How I had always had an aversion to the name Abigail and how I'd never been able to look at a young redhead.

How long had I been sitting here? An hour? A day? Had the sun set and risen again? And where was Bella? I had to stop thinking about this.

I was alone in the sitting room, browsing the satilite radio channels looking for something soothing to calm my mood, as if anything could. I decided to settle on the News Channel. I might as well listen to the affairs of humans and the state of the world than ponder my own shame and sadness.

I stared blankly and the screen. New born snow leopards and Jewel theives, nothing particulary interesting, though I did wonder what a snow leopard might taste like. Eating baby animals was not exactly honorable. My family and I liked to hunt creatures who were fully matured, who were at least able to try and defend themselves.

I was about to flip back the music channels when I froze, the television controllor crushing in my hand.

An informational broadcast about an "unidentified female between the ages of sixteen and twenty two" was being shown. The girl had suffered injuries and wasn't able to properly indentify herself, they were hoping family members or friends would come forward.

I could not believe what I was seeing.

This was impossible. No, this was beyond impossible.

It had to be a trick, there was no way, but it wasn't I would know that face anywhere.

This was the face of Rosalie Lillian Hale, the face she'd had the first time he'd met her. This was the face of the haughty human blond with the bright green eyes...