-.-
The End of a Bloodline
Chapter: 10. Mea Maxima Culpa: my most grievous fault
Rated: M
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer created Twilight, not me.
I, on the other hand, created TEOAB – respect that
Beta: Gasaway Alley
A/N: This won't be hard to follow. Italics are flashbacks, for those who need the
clarification. Other than that, enjoy!
-.-
Never.
Never is a loaded word. Used too often, its meaning stripped away and switched out with different definitions. Never is two hours, a week, a month. Never is not everlasting anymore, but chopped up into hissy fits which pass. "Never" is forgotten.
From Edward's mouth, passing his lethal teeth and delectable lips, the word is not one I take lightly. Never means eternity. Never is lifetimes passing in the blink of an eye. Immortality. Vampire. Never is haunting and staring me right in the face.
Never is an eternity of him, with him. Of remembering, of living with myself knowing I am a murderer in every way there is. Never becomes forever, and that is the scariest thing I've ever come across.
And I have tried killing myself.
I have killed.
I have held death in my hands and painted myself in blood.
Yet living forever frightens me more.
"Please… leave me alone. Just please."
The tears flow at their own accord. My vision blurs and blurs, but he stays put. A statue made of flesh and blood and venom. Has he no sympathy? Have all the human emotions been drained from him; replaced only with a thirst for blood? How can someone be so cold? How can he just deny me my freedom?
I've been here for so long, confined to a small room with a teasing view so close to me.
I haven't gone longer than the bathroom downstairs, not since that first day. For more than a month, all I've known are these four walls. This window. The red curtains. The vampires. The cruelty.
Before, I thought I lived on the shadow side of life; tormented in my own guilt and grief. Now though… I realize it was nothing compared to this. Fear has returned to my heart, and black has become onyx. Red has become blood. White has become a vast and almost unrecognizable hope.
Flesh is no longer only flesh.
Blood is no longer only blood.
Menial things I never gave a second thought are now everything.
Flesh is black and filled with venom. Blood is sustenance. Together, they are predator and victim. Lion and lamb.
"I'm not a cruel man, Isabella. Well, I am. But not to you. Haven't I been nothing but kind to you? Saved you, fed you, held you as you were wounded? Don't take that for granted - I am the sole reason you're still alive."
Somehow I muster the courage to speak, firmly, without hesitation in my voice. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but death is exactly what I've wanted from the start!"
"'I've'. You still do? Then say the word, Isabella, and I'll make it so!"
Fuck.
Shit.
He called my bluff!
He sees it in my eyes, and smiles. Teeth showing.
"You don't want to die. You gave up on that a long time ago. I suppose it was around the same time you started falling for me."
Lies, lies, lies.
I'm not falling for him.
It's impossible. And sick. And wrong. And… neverhappening.
A part of me… the part that is ruled by emotion, rather than logic, can't help but look at him and want him. His physique, shaped like Michelangelo's David, every detail made of stone, chiseled and smooth. Used to lure in victims. The most inviting part of him: his eyes. Green pools, like a meadow. Like the first leaves of spring.
They are also the most frightening parts of him.
For they turn red.
Letting logic take over.
Logic puts away the lust of eyes, and focuses on the fear. On the danger. Seeing with real eyes that his eyes are lethal, as is his body, mind, and words.
I haven't fallen for him.
My body has fallen for him.
When I sleep, I dream of him as a man, starring in memories of Jasper, but as himself. There, I lean against the railing of the fire escape, and Edward stalks closer, but with lust and love in his eyes, not a thirst for blood. He holds me in his arms and envelopes me in devotion.
But I always wake, do I not?
I always come back to reality once the sun shines through the curtains, painting the room in a red and ominous light.
And isn't that how it is? Darkness and human urges walk hand in hand, only to be broken by light and logic.
"I'll never love you."
The smile fades away, and a threatening line occupies his lips.
"But you will… one day. One day you will realize you're my mate; made for me. Until then…"
He leaves the sentence hanging in the air, and I have an urge to ask "then what?", but refrain. He looks at me a final time, before backing up again, leaving the room silent as always. When the door is shut, there are no other sounds but my breathing. Labored.
-.-
The blood is everywhere.
Rusting smell. Nauseating. It's on my hands and my face.
In his hair. His body. His clothes.
Oh, Tyler. Oh, Tyler.
I'm so sorry.
-.-
The following days pass by slowly. It's cruel. Taunting. There is nothing worse than being left alone with your own thoughts for so long. Leaving you to dwell on them.
When I came to New York, I had a lot of time on my hands. I only had the clothes in my suit case, along with a few pictures and other objects, and living off the few hundred bucks I'd saved up for college. That dream was gone. The dream of cooking school, of becoming a chef; it was crumbled up into pieces of lost hope. I spent my money well; surviving on small amounts of food. A sandwich would last me a day sometimes, much like it does now.
I also lived in homes. The kind you don't want to think about. Homes for the social outcasts. Homelesspeople.I was homeless at the tender age of eighteen, living scared at night and repenting during the day. I went to churches. I asked God for forgiveness. But it never came. Whenever I called back to my parents, they never spoke to me.
I had travelled across the country; on busses and trains, and I'd arrived in a melting pot where the likes of me were many but hated.
And I had never been more alone.
Loneliness gives you the opportunity to clear out where in life you went wrong.
When I started to eat?
When I started to work out?
When boys looked at me as something else than the fat blob blocking their view?
The catalysts.
-.-
"Come on, Izzy-bizzy. Peter Jenks will be there!"
I stare at myself in the mirror, running my hand down my side. The other keeps the phone to my ear. It's smooth. I look good. But I'm still…I can't compare to Chelsea. She's naturally thin, even though she eats like a trucker.
Sometimes I really hate genetics.
"I don't know, Chels'…"
"Please? Be my wing-woman! Sam is going to be there. Come on, come on, come ooooon! You have that blue swimsuit you bought last week. Your girls look great in them. Peter will be all over you!"
My face turns into a ripe tomato.
A minute pass, I clear my throat, and say, "You sure?"
"Definitely."
-.-
Food still appears. But this time around Edward doesn't bring it in. He leaves it outside and alerts me with a knock on the door. Although he's torturing me, he still wants me to live. Not for long… Jesus. Not for long, indeed. Just until I tell him I love him and let him change me.
Putting it like that, I realize now how truly crazed and sick he is. One can say it's in his nature to be evil. To be cruel. But he was once a man.
But as a man, was he not a bastard?
He treated his wife and his sons like shit, like rubble beneath his feet. Has he ever been lovable? In the seven hundred years he's existed, he has never found anyone before, has he? He has lived alone for so long… even Alec found someone along the way, even if he lost her on the way.
Is this destiny, though?
Have I always been meant for him? Always been meant to commit the worst crime against nature; murder, and end up with a man suitable to fit my sins?
But he wasn't always cruel.
The little girl he wanted to be his daughter…he treated her well. He could've loved her.
Oh, but where is the hope when dealing with the undead? How can one even consider the possibility that love even exists in a world when blood give as much, if not more, pleasure as sex? It's not something I like to think about, and under normal circumstances I'd let this go and bury it in the backburner. But this is no normal circumstance.
I'm being held captive by vampires in an abandoned building.
One wants me gone.
The other wants me to be his bride.
I actually find myself longing back to the days when my worries revolved around prioritizing my social life.
-.-
I rush down the stairs, wearing my blue swimsuit beneath my jean-shorts and t-shirt. I've been holed up in my room writing a personal statement for my last-minute college application, and not realized that it was one of the rare, hot, sunny days. Chelsea is waiting for me to pick her up, all in the mission to seduce and conquer Sam Uley; the older, handsome, college freshman. Last year's point guard. This year's eye-candy.
"Going somewhere, sweetie?"
My mom stops me at the door, and I let out a breath or irritation. She's on me so much lately, and it's hard enough trying to exercise, eat right, be social, keep up with school, and do everything she tells me to on the top of that.
"The beach." I notice she's more dressed up than usual. Even wearing make-up. "Are you?"
She cracks out a smile. "Actually I am. Your father and I are going over to the Blacks for a late lunch, and then dinner later on. I'm sure I told you, hon. So I need you to watch your brother."
"But I'm going to the beach! Come on, mom, I haven't had a free weekend in ages."
Her face turns stern, and I'm not eighteen, I'm eight; being caught stealing from the cookie-jar.
"Either take your brother, or stay home. You decide."
-.-
Today, the snow is falling hard outside, and I can't help but imagine myself as a child. Happy days, when it was just me, my mom, and my dad. We had a tradition to make snowmen of ourselves, and bake gingerbread cookies on days like this. Relishing in Christmas. Decorating the house inside and out with lights.
When my brother was born, I was happy at first. I'd always wanted a younger sibling, but as life continued and he became the object of my parents' affection and time, I started to resent him. Just a little. I was too used to being an only-child and being in the center of attention.
The loneliness is what brought me to eating.
To the pounds causing havoc in my body.
My dad had always wanted a son; in hindsight I understood that. The pictures I have of myself as a small child all portray me in sporting wear. On my dad's lap while watching a Mariners match. At a baseball game. Me in a soccer uniform. Then Tyler came along and my dad got what he'd always wanted.
A realson.
I start choking up, and tears gather in my eyes.
I stare at the door for hours.
And hours.
And hours.
Until day turns to night.
Winter has turned the days shorter. I wonder, do vampires love the winter? They must. It's not like they can go tanning.
Out of loneliness, out of boredom, I test the waters. "Hello?" I say out loud, questioning, wondering, hoping.
"Edward…someone. Is there anyone there?"
The floorboard outside the door creaks.
But what? Who?
I'm instantly frightened, and hold my breath, pushing myself into the wall where I sit on the mattress. "Hello? Who's there?" There's no answer. "Answer me!" I say more forcefully, and then I gasp as quick footsteps fade down the stairs.
Footsteps.
Sounds.
Someone's there.
I rush to the door, banging, screaming, "Help me! Help me! Please, whoever you are, help me!", but no one answers. The sound of feet die, and I fall to my knees crying. "Please…please."
-.-
The park is filled with people, and I spot Ben Cheney immediately. I rush over to the underclassman, my brother in tow.
"Hey there, Ben!"
He stutters. "Isa-Isabella. Hey. Uhm. Hi. How…What are you doing here?"
I smile and flutter my eyes, a trick I learned from Chelsea's older sister, and brush my hand against his arms. He blushes and shifts…covering his crotch. His little sister is playing on the swings behind him.
"I'm here with my brother. Actually, can I ask you for a favor? Can you just look after him for like, an hour? I just remembered I have to pick something up at the post-office and stuff… It'll be an hour, tops. Please, pretty please?"
Five seconds later I have confirmation and turn to my brother.
My annoying, time-consuming, nine year old brother.
"Listen, Tyler. I'll be right back, okay? In the meantime, you can play with Ben's sister."
"But she's a girl, Bella. I don't want to play with her. I want to be with you!"
"I'm a girl too, ya know."
"No…you're my sister..."
For a nine year old, he's pretty thick.
"It's an hour, Tyler. You can handle that."
He yells 'I love you' after me, and I wave at him from the car.
-.-
I spot someone on the street.
I go ballistic.
It's the middle of the day - though I don't know which day, or how many days have passed - and the sun is shining. I don't think it's even that cold outside, until I spot a person below me. Just across the street. From what I can tell, they're wearing a long black coat and a beanie. Long, blonde hair sticks out and flows down the back.
A woman.
I bang as loud as I can on the window, yelling, screaming.
"Hello! I'm up here. Up here. Look up here. Save me. Call 911!"
And she turns.
I have hope.
I've found salvation. This woman will see me trapped, and she will call someone to help me. Finally, I will be free.
But.
Oh no. What if she comes in! She'll be killed!
These fears are running through my mind, and as she stops and turns, I pray to God that she won't try to come in. Be sensible, woman, go to the authorities!
She turns…she looks straight at me. I can tell. She's looking right up, right at this building, straight at me…
And then she mouths something, words I can't tell from this distance.
Then she's gone.
Running slowly down the slippery street with her head bowed.
What the hell?
What. The. FUCK?
She saw me! I know she saw me! But then why…
And then I backtrack what I've seen, and realize I saw her first as she emerged from my side of the street. From my building. She's been…here. In this house of dead. Brothel of sins. This shelter for those who cannot walk during the day. She's been here. And then it dawns on me, that since no vampire has made any sounds walking up those squeaky steps, the possibility that it was the blonde woman is big.
A fellow human.
Betraying me.
Maybe I'm left to the dead.
-.-
Peter Jenks. The object of my affection. A basketball player. Not the best. Not the worst. But handsome either way.
Arriving at the beach, I strip for my t-shirt, but leave my shorts on. I'm still self conscious. I haven't reached my goal yet, and I instantly turn around to go back home. But Chelsea has spotted me already, and catches up to me before I can turn the ignition.
"Going somewhere?"
"Home."
"But… Peter is asking for you!"
And I'm outside in a flash. Down on the beach. Flirting. Then kissing. Holding hands.
Time flies.
-.-
When I arrived back at the park, it was already dark. At the beach, Peter Jenks had become my first boyfriend and last boyfriend, and had made a promise to take me to prom. I drove in ecstasy, with a gigantic smile on my face. I radiated. Life was good.
And then it never was again.
Later on, I'd discover Tyler had told poor Ben that he'd manage to walk home on his own, that our house was two blocks from the park, when he left with his sister, and being the kid he was, Ben believed him. No one ever blamed, him, nor should they have, but all fingers pointed to me at some point. The sister who neglected her own brother. My friends, Chelsea even, came out to say how much I nagged about my brother. How many times I said he was a pain. A bore. Unnecessary.I hated them for that, mostly because I thought they realized I didn't mean it full-heartedly.
All baby brothers are pains.
All older sisters complain about them.
I just never thought it would come back to bite me in the ass. One could say it was karma, or faith, but I've always thought it was just life and me being incompatible. I ruin everything, whether it is for me and my body, or for the people I love. My track record? Well, it's obvious. I ruined myself, before I got selfish and ruined my family. Killed my brother. Then I lived in fear and grief for years, until I started to love again, and ended up killing the man I loved in the process.
Peter never took me to prom. I didn't even go. Instead, I stayed home locked up in my room, crying as I heard my parents yell at each other. My dad was tired from over-working, and my mom was always drunk.
Her little boy had been murdered.
Her alcoholism was understandable. So was her anger, and the finger she pointed at me.
Get out.
It should have been you, not him.
When my dad was working, my mom would find me and cuss me out. I was no longer her daughter. I wasn't family. And my father, afraid to lose the love of his life after losing the son he always wished I had been, took her side. He never said a thing, but he never stopped my mother's mouth, either. He stood idly by and closed his eyes and ears.
The final month of high school, I was alienated by my friends, my classmates, and even the teachers. Although no court of law could ever find me guilty in the eyes of justice, it didn't keep the eyes of the public to make their own verdicts.
Guilty.
Murderer.
My parents didn't come for graduation, and no one clapped as the principal called out my name and handed me my diploma. I was honor roll. I had the chance to go great things. And instead, I packed up a bag and hit town before summer break really begun.
I abandoned my brother and dove into my own selfishness. In the aftermath of grief, I swam in a sea of guilt and hate. Hate towards myself. Hatred towards the wolf that tore into my brother's little body. Hate towards the ones I loved who turned their backs on me, never bothering to look back at the girl they once claimed to love.
The police came to the conclusion that he'd ventured into the woods when I didn't come to get him. It was there he had been attacked by a wolf and had his neck and stomach tore up. They told me this with sadness and sympathy, and sometimes I wish it had been that look my mother had met me with when I saw her afterwards. Instead, all I ever saw in her eyes again were the mirroring of my hands covered in blood.
All I ever saw was accusation.
All I ever felt…was hatred.
Because I neglected my brother. I let him die at my own selfish wants.
-.-
"Tyler! Tyler! Where are you? TYLER!"
I scream and shout until my throat is hoarse, and I scout every inch of the park, but he's nowhere to be found. It's dark. I fear the worst.
Hours later, after scouting, screaming, searching. Hopelessly running and tripping over tree roots and fighting ferns, swearing at the cuts being made in my face. Falling to my knees and scraping up my palms.
My blood mixes with his.
I find him amongst the leaves.
Green, red, orange, brown, red.
Tattered and bruised and ripped apart.
His eyes are open, staring into the nothingness, into my eyes, penetrating my soul. Like he's calling for me. Like my name is formed on his white lips, "Bella!". Like before he died, the pain made him scream for his sister, his protector, wanting me to save him.
Because that's what big sister do.
That's what I was supposed to do.
I see my name in his blue eyes. Eyes I once detested. Now they're imprinted in my mind, to haunt my dreams forever more.
Oh, but I love you Tyler.
Please, no.
I hold his cold little body in my arms, rocking back and forth as tears stream down my cheeks. My breath is staggered and coming out in pants, my chest constricting. I hear wolves howling in the distance, twigs breaking, and the sound of the air being sniffed. The predator lingering around its prey.
Oh, Tyler.
Little brother.
No!
I didn't mean… I never… I should have…
I'm sorry.
Blood stains my clothes, my hands, my cheeks, and then my lips as I kiss his bloodied hair.
His blood…always tainting my hands. Forever.
I'm sorry.
I love you.
-.-