Disclaimer: Twilight obv not mine, but Stephenie Meyer's
"Come closer, Belle, I want to see your face." His mouth was close to my ear, whispery breaths penetrating all the way down to my toes. I could feel the hot air leaving his lips, as he once again pulled me to him. "Sit pretty. I need to see."
"Why always pretty?" I wondered out loud, "Why never beautiful?" I heard his low laugh, almost a bark as he balled my hair up in a makeshift ponytail, effectively jerking my face to face his.
"Pretty because that's just how I see you. But once I'm finished with you, once your body is decorated in glossy red ribbons, that's when to me, you'll be beautiful.
I shuddered awake as the memory-like dream slowly subsided to the nether regions of my brain. My pillow still smelled like him, probably from the many nights he spent with me in my bed. Hopefully his scent would be washed out with another trip to the Laundromat.
I lay back, thinking of the activities of the day before. The flower was overkill. I realized it. And once the coroner examined her body, I would be receiving a label. I sighed, rolling over onto my stomach, stretching my limbs out effortlessly. No more flowers. No more distinguishing marks on anyone, from here on out.
I exhaled, tugging the sheets off of my body. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was four am. After heading home from killing the bride-to-be, I peeled my soaking pants off and threw them in the washing machine, along with my shirt and socks. Afterwards, I climbed into bed in my birthday suit, and immediately fell asleep, only to be harshly woken up by memories I had for so long, tried to bury.
Memories of Jacob, before we became a team, memories of when I did not know what he was- of what I was to become, before I knew, that one day he would leave me in the dust.
I crawled over to the edge of my bed, rolling off of it, to face the mirror. I gazed at my reflection. Deliberately fingering the faint, pink, puckered line along the edge of my right ribcage. This is where his first ribbon embellished my body. I winced, replaying the agony of the cold metal painstakingly slicing into my skin. But unfortunately that was not the worst part. No, the worst part was how persuasive he was, and how desperate I was, whether it was for affection, or something else- I'll never know…
His chocolate-like eyes gleamed as the blood slowly trickled down my abdomen, pooling at the crease of my stomach.
"Gorgeous." He murmured, eyeing the red liquid that was now painting my pale skin. He gradually raised the knife again, intending to cut the flesh below my left breast. I began to struggle.
"Shhhh, beautiful. You're alright. No, you're more than alright- you're perfect. Don't you worry, my love. Haven't you always wanted to be exquisite? Well now you can be." He didn't look at me as he said those words. Instead, he continued to drag the knife ever so close to my skin. "Just remember, every ribbon is like a kiss from me, that will never go away, a kiss that shows just how much I love and cherish you. Don't you worry, you'll be fine." And I believed him, because I slowly relaxed in his arms, even going as far as leaning my head against his shoulder as his knife pierced my skin for the second time. Despite the pain clouding most of my senses, I felt worshipped, for the first time. And not only that, but I also felt adored. And those two feelings were the best in the world, which is why when Jacob asked me if I wanted another kiss from his knife, this time on the inside of my thigh, I whispered yes.
Even now, looking at the myriad scars decorating my body, I felt no regret. No qualms about my previous experiences that despite being sporadic dotted my past and stood out like sore thumbs. Was I a glutton for punishment? I didn't think so… I rubbed the one on the inside of my wrist. It was a flower. A daisy to be specific. A lone tear slid down my face, creating a pathway for more to follow. And more did follow, till I was sitting on the floor, crying quietly for times that were now out of my reach. Times I had yearned for every day- and will yearn for up until the moment I die.
I cradled my left wrist with the flower on it. He carved it carefully into my skin after our first kill together. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. I still remembered every detail. From the way his aroma engulfed me, to the way my heart felt- as though it were bursting out of my chest, as we slowly charged the knife into our terrified victim. And it was our victim. Not just his, not just mine- ours.