That didn't take long, thanks to all the reviewers, and thankyou too Racoon! BTW, that wasn't 20, it was like 13.

So, it's getting a little darker, you might need to bring a torch soon.

Here's the chapter.

19. Mansion

I couldn't go home, I'd already told Charlie I would be gone for the weekend. I didn't really know what I could do or where I could go. Driving down the highway I realized that urge in my chest was still there. It was pulling again, spurring me. I'd tuned into it so much now that I could tell it wanted me to turn.

My eyes spotted a familiar area on the side of the highway, and my chest jumped. I didn't want to go down that road, but it seemed I didn't have a choice. The urge pulled me to it, and I turned the truck on the dangerously sharp angle that lead me to their house.

The Cullens house was much like I remembered it, but the garden was completely different. Esme would have a fit at how her perfectly manicured lawn and garden had over grown, climbing up to the porch, covering the concrete driveway, licking up the walls of the house.

The view looked cold, like a deserted castle, like a haunted house. The windows were empty and lifeless. The door was open and slightly swinging in the breeze.

The house seemed to beg for inhabitants, call for some way for it to be used. Without any people inside it almost didn't seem real. The paint was too white, the design to perfect.

I had to go inside.

I waded through the thick grass and weeds, not bothering to bat it away with my hands. I felt things prick me and tickle me as I padded through it. I even heard something that sounded faintly like hissing, which caused me to run to the porch, leaping as high over the grass as possible. I really didn't want to be bitten by a snake, it's not their venom that I was after.

When I was safely away from the creepy weeds I swatted my sides. I was covered in weird kinds of seeds, some sharp and pointy, some sticky, some covered in such fine barbs that when I tried to swipe them away from my clothes they stuck to my fingers.

It took a few minutes before I was sure I was seedless. I was about to walk in before I thought better of it. I wiped my feet on the mat; its edges were frayed – probably from some bird that decided to build a nest out of the broom-bristle-like weave. My muddy boots left tracks on the mat, but I was certain there was barely any grime left on them before I stepped inside.

It was just as I had remembered it, but painfully different. The same gorgeous furnishings and paintings occupied the space, but there were no personalities occupying it with them. It was immaculate inside, making it seem even emptier despite that it had always been this tidy.

The house reminded me of a display home. Perfectly furnished but with none of the quirks that a family would provide. No chairs were still pulled out from the table. No wonky tables, no books strewn haphazardly around with bookmarks still in them. Everything was perfectly ordered and cold.

There was one thing in the room not perfect, but it constricted my heart even further. One single vase lay on its side, wilted flowers half fallen out of it and a water stain on the wood where the water must have been before it evaporated weeks ago.

I walked slowly to the glass vase, and touched the patterned vase. It reflected a thousand little pictures of the wilted stalk inside it. It was the saddest thing in the house, and I didn't notice I was crying until I saw the water droplets on the table. I sniffed and took a big breath, calming myself and stopping the leakage. I placed the vase back in its spot and removed the flowers.

I went out to the garden and picked any flowers I could see. They were weed flowers, but a happy shade of yellow. I bunched them together and pressed their stalks into each other so they could fit in the vase.

The picture of the empty house, with the cute little flowers in it... it was sad.

But mostly it was infuriating.

Edward had left, and made his family leave. It was Edward who caused this lonely state of the house. It was all Edward's fault.

My fists clenched into balls, my long nails biting into my palms. I was practically vibrating again, fuelled by my anger. I had to release this energy somehow and I had the perfect way to.

I ran up to his room, Edward's room, I knew the way automatically, and I didn't know if that was a good or bad thing right now. His door was open when I went up, and I smirked – it was practically and invitation.

I ran inside and purged the anger from my system. I wasn't very proud of what I did that day.

I wasn't extremely strong, definitely wasn't vampire strong, but it almost looked like what I would imagine a newborn's room would look like.

All the CDs were on the floor. The sofa bed was overturned. Hundreds of journals were strewn on the floor, some with pages ripped out. One diary was completely ruined, torn and almost unrecognisable. It was the one I saw a name I recognised, a certain name starting with B.

I had been picking up the journals, flipping them open and throwing them across the room, every word he wrote was painful to me. I picked up this particular book and read more than the first few lines. The words he wrote about me were like the sweetest poetry, gorgeous and so meaningful. My heart ached as I read the words. When I finished reading it I cried, sobs echoing in the empty house.

I hated that he'd left me, I was angry that he left me. My sobs turned to pants, to growls. I snatched at the book, tearing, ripping, throwing and beating it until my desperation turned my growls to mangled screams.

I ran around the room, overturning furniture, smashing mirrors, stamping on music. I threw Edward's speakers at the windows, smashing the glass and sending them sailing into the forest. I watched it fall to the ground, satisfied as the plastic smashed and shiny things went sailing. As I leant out the window my hand caught on the glass, blood dripped down the window pane.

I smiled at the deep red liquid, Edward would love this. Frantically I ran around the room, blood speckling on the floor. I smeared my bloody palm on the walls, on the sofa, on the diaries, on his CDs. The blood stopped too soon. I growled in frustration and punched the wall, making a whole through the plaster. My knuckles were bruised, and when I withdrew it from the indent I'd made I saw more specks of blood on skin of my fist. I grinned and punched the wall again, and again, and kicked it, elbowed it, kneed it, going around the room to find more things I could smash and cover with my blood.

Eventually I stopped, or was stopped by my actions. I'd rifled through his draws, chucking his now bloody clothes around the room. At the bottom of his last draw I found a photo.

It was a photo of him, and an older woman who looked like him – his mother.

He was a lot younger, with a smile on his face. She stared at the camera, holding him in her arms. Her eyes were alight with joy and happiness, her smile so infectious I couldn't help it creeping across my face. I stroked the sides of the framed and glass covered photograph. Blood smeared the edges.

I stood with it in my torn hands. I walked to the torn curtains and wiped the blood from it. Guilt started to well inside me, and I moved away the mess on a section of the floor so I could place the photo down in the middle of the room.

It was the one clean area in a room of chaos – an untouched building in the middle of warzone.

I jogged away from the room, ashamed of unleashing that bomb on his room. In contrast the house was still immaculate, and it made me feel worse. Tears were streaming down my face but I waited until I was inside my car until I let myself lose it.

I curled into a ball in the driver's seat, convulsing with my misery. I couldn't hear anything but the sounds of my grief, couldn't feel anything but the pain in my chest. I screamed and shouted, needing help, feeling like I was going to die. No help came, would come.

I indulged in my sorrow, letting all that pent up anguish and anger release from its cage. When I stopped I had nothing left... nothing but a single thought.

Edward had caused this all, and I would make him pay.

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