-.-

The End of a Bloodline

Chapter: 11. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

Rated: M

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer created Twilight, not me.
I, on the other hand, created TEOAB – respect that

Beta: Gasaway Alley (who sacrificed time of her holiday to edit this! Lordy, woman, you're incredible!)

A/N: I have a penchant for Keats, not to mention the fic
"And with thee fade away" by Derdriu oFaolain,
yet another story with non-canon vampires…I'm starting to see a pattern.

Did I ever say how long this would be? No? Well… under 20 chapters, is my guess. 15 or so.

-.-

Alec returns to me on a day I don't know the name of, or the number, and he stands silent in the doorway for hours. I rest on the mattress, because even though I have nothing to do and nowhere to go, I still find myself exhausted. Maybe it's the short winter days, making a clutter out of night and day. Or maybe it's the craziness going on. Being held captive by vampires and all… finding out my own race is turning its back on me…

Or maybe I'm just coming closer to a decision.

To mate, or not to mate. That is the question.

Shakespeare just said it differently… with a naïve approach to life.

Love cannot be found in the hearts of man. Love for someone other than your family is impossible. Love, I have found out, is for the strong and the living.

I have never been either. I have always been wanting. Never deserving.

I am no longer naïve to life. I consider these past months the turning point of my life, and any recollection of a girl or of a human is gone. I do not believe in love anymore. How can I? If Jasper had really loved his wife, he never would have cheated on her. If he ever really loved me, then he would have ended his marriage with Maria. If he really loved his girls… then he would have shown up to their ballet recitals and stayed home with them. He never would have left if he really loved them all.

And if my parents really loved me… if my dad loved me, he would have accepted me as the daughter I was, and not wished for me to be a son. He would have stood up to mom and said, "it wasn't her fault", but he never did. And my mother? Well, if she loved me, she didn't love me as much as she loved Tyler. She wouldn't have pointed her finger at me if she had loved me as much. My parents never practiced love for me to understand it… no wonder I'm so dysfunctional.

So Alec stands in the doorway, and I lie on the mattress. I breathe, he stands stone-still.

It's not like I don't care that he's there. I'm nervous to why he's here, and why he hasn't said anything. And I'm afraid. I always am, but I try to smother the fear below a blasé attitude.

His eyes are on me, I can feel as much. The curtains are closed, though today there is no sun to let through. The sky is covered with grey clouds, and the room is close to pitch dark.

There is a question rumbling around in my head, but when I open my mouth and turn my head towards him, he is gone and the door is shut. As I stare at the door, my eyes drift towards the mark in the wall next to it, remembering my first night here. When my life was ruined… the one of many nails in the coffin.

Then I look at the wall, at the fading wallpaper, and at the spot where it has washed out completely and there are seven scratches on the board.

Just seven.

Symbolizing that first week of confusion.

Seven days of hell.

And the rest of the days?

They are forgotten and cast back into blackness.

"You have a wrinkle between your eyes when you do that. All day, as I've been watching you, you make that face as you stare at the ceiling, like you're contemplating when it's going to fall down on you."

I stubbornly don't bother turning my head now.

"Being petulant? It's not becoming of you, at all, Isabella."

"Well, captivity doesn't seem to agree with me, Alec," I counter back. "But what would you know about that, anyways?"

A rush of air tells me he's closer, and his shadow paints the wall black. "And here I thought my dear brother told you everything. I've heard most of it, but in my absence I really thought he would have delved into my story as well." When I don't show any reaction, he continues. "Really, human? Nothing? Though I would think if you knew, you wouldn't throw out such comments."

I furrow my brows, and I think of his comment about my wrinkle. "He's told me things about the woman. That you're Italian, and cruel, a…"

"Cruel?" he mocks. "Oh, but I am only what I am, human. I'm a vampire, and so I act as one. Though you define it as cruel, I see it as normal. You, a human, may consider yourself strong and wise, but I see you as nothing but food and entertainment. A weak little thing."

Silence follows.

I break it.

Remaining prone on the mattress, I stare at the ceiling and ask, "Then what do you know of being held captive?"

He snorts.

Snorts.

Another human trait from a non-human creature.

"I'm not my brother. I won't hold you in my arms and whisper my story in your ear like I care what you think of me. It's simple. I'm ancient, as in Antique-ancient. I was a slave and a gladiator. Beside a Spanish warrior, I fought for my freedom, and lost it in a bed of concubines. There is nothing more and nothing less."

I continue to stare, not really processing his voice. Smooth and silky. So that is his story? A slave. He too, turned against his will. Nevertheless, does that excuse his behavior? Shouldn't the curse of his life make him want to be human? Like the vampire stories I know of, they bask in mansions and fine clothing, acting like a human. Does he go out amongst man and mask his true identity? Somehow I doubt it.

"Now, do you think different of me?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. Yet Edward's story leaves you in turmoil. Do you know why?"

I finally turn my head, and am taken back a little by just how handsome he is this close. A killer in disguise, but such a delectable disguise it is. The blue, European eyes, the dark brown hair, the hard angles, and defined jaw. He's so much like Edward in beauty. Alike in knowing their looks are given to them to attract food.

Like me.

Dinnertime.

"Lean back."

I haven't realized I've leaned in, but I do as he says, breathing in deep. God, he smells good.

And God, that is so unfair.

"Do you wish to know why? It's because you don't care whether I am good or bad, but you do with him. Because you want him. And Isabella," he quips. "That is dangerous for the both of you. His venom will turn you crazed and him forlorn, and I will not do to him as he did to me. The loss of it… is not something I wish for anyone."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… when you see an opportunity… take it."

My eyes return to the ceiling, focusing on a cobweb and a fly trapped in it, turning in despair to get out, but remaining trapped. In grief, and mourning, and loneliness, I say whatever comes to mind.

"I just wanted to die."

"Be careful what you wish for."

-.-

He left food for me.

Out of kindness?

I realize I didn't get to ask him about the blonde woman. Why she was here. How she knows. Or is she a vampire? No— not possible. She walked slowly like a normal person, and she made the stairs creak.

But how can I determine the normality of the undead? I've only really "met" two— I don't count the French newborn— all I know of them is that they are:

Beautiful.

Strong.

Fast.

Bloodthirsty.

Evil.

Edward was right when he said I know of nothing reaching farther than the tip of my nose.

It's what makes me deadly. The selfishness of caring only for myself and what's good for me.

So I tell myself to stay put, to stay strong, to resist him— although he makes it hard for me to do so. When he holds me like I'm a precious china-doll, he makes me feel wanted and cherished, something I've never really felt before. His looks don't make it better, even if I know it's really a façade to attract his prey. But it's human, it's carnal, it's a craving to desire the beautiful, and I'm no exception.

Peter was handsome with a boy-ish charm which captivated me from the first time I saw him.

Jasper held the mysterious, indie attraction. With the shirts, sometimes suspenders, the leather jacket. No socks, no shoes, and he still got service. A pretty man with a strong and smoldering edge.

And Edward? He's pure danger, and hard angles. He's the silent man in the bar, looking over the women on display, choosing whom he wants to take home, and then just taking them, because they will always say yes.

I am shallow.

I realize that.

But I can't choose to become evil incarnate because he makes me want to find a bed and stay in it with him for days at the time.

He's more than his looks.

He's bloodthirsty, cruel, evil, manipulative. He has no sense of empathy or sympathy towards humans. Not even when he was human. And to add to it? He wants to bestow this curse to someone else— me— because he doesn't want to be lonely. He wants a mate. Someone to be evil with him.

The human thing for him to do would be to kill himself to spare humans of pain and sufferings. From the grief of losing loved ones

Isn't it?

Would I?

Will I, if that is the route I end up going? Or am forced to take?

I break out in tears, and pull the red curtains apart. A faint moon is rising behind the grey clouds, as if an omen. Ominous.

-.-

The house is cast into an eerie silence.

Unnatural.

I'm used to hearing some noises here and there. A growl, at times. Something breaking. It hasn't been noteworthy before, because I know it's the creatures below me doing… something. Mostly it's at night, when I'm supposed to be sleeping, the sound of things breaking have often woken me up. In the aftermath, I have always lain there completely petrified wondering if another vampire would come crashing through the door and kill me.

Whatever happened to that Frenchman who tried?

Why have no others tried?

Why was he even here?

What kind of place is this?

These are the thoughts which have caused my insomnia dozens of times.

But now… now I wonder something else.

Why is it so silent?

I startle upright on the mattress and get to my feet. I rush to the window and pull the curtains apart, and there I see it. A startling searing yellow sun. No clouds. A blue sky. A robin flying past the window, and I follow it with my eyes. It flies down the street, landing on an unlit street lamp, where it perches itself and flexes its wings twice, before turning into stone. Just sitting there.

And it's still dead silent.

Alec's voice echoes through the room suddenly, " when you see an opportunity…take it.", as if he was here right next to me, telling me to run. But I'm grasping the sill, my knuckles white with fear.

Can I?

Is this the time?

Will I finally be free from this everlasting purgatory of waiting?

Where I've been waiting to die, in one way or another.

I'm at a loss, because suddenly reality and the outside world seems terrifying to me. The people. The space. The burdens. Loans, bills, apartments, jobs. The grief, the loneliness, the depression. The constant reminder, as I walk down streets or stand on the subway, that I am, and forever will be, alone.

And what if I go? Then what? Night will come sometime, and then he will find me. He knows my smell, and has tracked me before…who says he can't do it again?

But I smell. Reek. My entire body feels disgusting from a lack of showering, shaving, any basic human need to be clean. Does that stand higher on the list? Higher than a fear of being cast back into captivity?

At least I'll be clean, I think bitterly to myself.

At least I'll feel clean and smell like something more human than this.

Minutes tick by, and my hands lose their strength. With a heavy breath, I step away from the window and close my eyes, trying to concentrate on sounds. But there are none. None other than my own beating heart and weighted breath.

Alone.

When I reopen my eyes, I clear my head from thoughts as I step towards the door.

If it's open, I run.

If it's closed, I know it's a sick joke.

The floorboards creak beneath my feet with every step, and as I reach the handle, I pray a silent prayer for all of this to be a nightmare.

My hand tightens around it.

Pressing down.

Out.

The door screeches open.

I almost cry right then and there, but I have to keep strong.

I'm not out yet.

Far from it.

Vampires may be lurking around the corners.

This could be a test.

But it's a risk I'm willing to take, and run as fast as my feet can carry me down the stairs, ignoring the horrible sounds. I run, I run, and I run. Down the hall, remembering where my feet brought me the last time, leaving doors slamming against the walls as I go. Down the many steps of this ungodly tall building, my breath laboring, I try to best not to stumble and fall.

Try not to spill blood.

Because if Edward is not here, but someone else is, I'm not sure I'll survive. Without his protection, no matter the reasons behind it why, I know that any attempts of surviving will be fruitless. I am grateful to him, for that monumental thing. For not letting the vampire kill me…

I want to live.

So I run.

My escape is close, as the walls blur past me, and the staircases run out around six stories down. I've come to a place I've never been— or never was awake to see— and my surroundings astound me. Covered in dust and pale grey covers, furniture is placed neatly around a large living room; a table, two sofas, an ottoman, a grandfather clock, whose pendulum has stopped working.

Like time has ceased and ended in this house of death.

And I am here because of Edward.

I hate him. I hate him so much— for he makes me see my reflection in the mirror, and forces me to own up to it. Beyond the clothes, beyond the excess fat, beyond the layers of skin and flesh and blood, he makes me stare into my own eyes and see my soul; mirroring a dark, haunted, empty space. Cold. Vast. Withered.

I can't find myself. I drown in my surroundings— suffocating.

The silver lining is I'm thrust back into reality; to this unreal world of vampires and death, of dark corners and sinful acts. I thought I knew the worst— Sander's Brothel, cheating husbands, killer daughters, spiting parents. I thought the worst of the world ended in Europe with the shattering of the Berlin Wall, of the Soviet's downfall, the bombings of Japan, but what I didn't know was that the true dangers of the world have never been fought. They are constant, always lurking in dark corners, threatening to be exposed by the scorching sunlight of tattle tales.

Let me breathe!

Don't make me see!

I hate him. Edward is my nemesis, but I can't resist him. That frightens me to death, and I take in one big breath – the scent of vampire, blood, and sex filling me up one last time. Then I step silently through the room to a dark wooden door, turn the handle, the door opens, and I step into the light.

As I shut the door and exhale, I cleanse myself of the last of him and his world. I say goodbye to the lonely attic, Alec's sinister mood, and Edward's attempt to make me love him.

Why does it feel like such a loss?

Why does this feel like grieving?

His voice, his face, his eyes changing from green to red; I cannot picture them in my mind.

It strikes me, as I stand on the doorstep and look up at the old dark building that looks abandoned; this is all too easy. I expect him to burst out the door any second and whisk me back into his darkness. I stand there, almost hoping that is what he'll do. But it dawns on me that even though it would only be a split second; Edward hates the sun more than he hates the French. He shies away from me even in the mornings, always leaving me to my lonesome in the day and rejoining me at night, all because of that blasted sun.

He's turned me into a creature of the night too, I don't think he even knows it, but I sleep all day just to stay up with him at night.

Not that he was visited me for well over a week.

Another minute goes by and I lean my head against the door, my teeth starting to clatter from the cold, the shock— as if I can feel his presence on the other side. It's bullshit though; I can feel nothing but the cold breeze on my skin.

My tattered and bruised skin.

Shaky legs.

My lips chapped and dry. My eyes sore. My greasy hair tangled.

My feet are bare, exposed, and I stare for a minute at my toes, dreading walking down the pavement.

Expecting him to open the door and pull me in, I walk down the two stone steps, and am shocked with the sensation of freezing cold beneath the soles of my feet. My teeth instantly begin to chatter again, and I wrap my arms around myself, and continue to walk.

And walk.

And walk.

Never once do I look over my shoulder to sneak a peek at the house which has been my "home" for well over a month.

This is my goodbye.

To Alec.

To Edward.

To vampires.

And I hate myself for feeling sad as I leave them all behind.

-.-