QUICK, WHILE I CAN!!

Just got back from play practice, and I have a sliver of time! Let's make it count!!

There was a gurgle of noise erupting from the blurry, yet distinctly pixie-like blob next to my fading vision. As if it was speaking underwater. "I'm going to bring her down," it said in slow motion.

I wanted to protest, but I couldn't find my voice or the energy to move. So what if my vision was fading like a sun over the horizon or that my ears were ringing and everything sounded like it was submersed? I wanted to help my Edward.

Before I knew it, I felt coolness on my cheeks - wind. I knew I was being moved, but the prospect of a bloodied man like the man who shot me multiplied by ten and then set up against Edward frightened me, causing me to shiver, and I didn't want to be away from him. I wanted to help him more than anything.

Somewhere, I heard a shot fired. It rang in my ears, and didn't pause. I heard another unnaturally slow motion voice say, "Hold it right there, or I'll shoot the girl again." As the voice said this, I felt wind pass over my skin again, and then the pain in back. Had I been dropped? But then two clangs echoed in my ears, and I knew the pixie-like blob and I had both fallen. A glutinous liquid oozed out from the mass of pixie white. It was red. My incoherent head slowly pieced together that she had been shot, and fallen to the ground, taking me with her.

I then heard, "How dare you!" But this voice was not ringing or in slow motion; it was clear and easy to understand. It sounded like soft velvet running under your fingers, like the wind kissing your skin on a cool evening, like music running through your ears. It was beautiful, and I instantly knew whom it belonged to: my Edward.

"Ed . . . ward . . . ?" I panted. But even my own voice sounded distorted like the rest.

"How can you shoot these innocent people?" he pled.

"Innocent?" a voice spat. But suddenly, this voice was recognizable: Carlisle. I shuddered involuntarily when I realized the name. "How can you say that they are innocent, boy?"

"Ed . . . ward?" I tried again. I uselessly tried to pull myself up, to move toward him. But my muscles would not support me.

"Because I love them! And in different ways. Bella is my life, Esme is my mother, and Alice is like my sister! They are innocent people, trying to escape your cruelty! But you can't bare that, knowing you a cruel, sick man, can you, bastard?"

Another shot. I felt the same excruciating pain on my right, almost in the identical spot of my left. But this one was closer to my heart. Blood poured out like a waterfall.

"Stop it!" he cried, angelically in pain. "She's losing too much blood as it is! How can you - ?"

"Because that whore betrayed me, and I fully intend to give her what she deserves: death. She deserves death, and I'm the only one who is going to give the punishment -"

"No! I won't let you kill her -"

Yet another shot. Only this time, I was sure it hit the mass next to me - who I was slowly coming to realize was Alice - for it groaned and shuddered beside me. I wanted to weep for it.

"Je peux tuer quiconque l'enfer, je veux! And that includes you, so don't dare stand in my way!"

I cringed; Edward killed by his own father? What a gruesome tale. What would I do? How would I live one without him? Would Carlisle kill me next? My recovering brain was suddenly plagued by these sorts of questions as Carlisle threatened my Edward again.

"Now, so help me boy, I will murder you if you do not hand over your little sweetheart over there." I flinched because I knew he was talking about me. "I want to kill her." My hands and spine became tremulous because I knew that was definitely me too.

"I don't think so."

"Oh, don't be a hero," my weak voice said, barely loud enough to travel to Carlisle and Edward.

I heard him gasp. "See, even your girly over there wants to die. Why not let her?" I could practically hear the smirk as Carlisle spoke. He, I assumed, then cocked the gun.

Then there was a loud smack, and my head began to reel because my vision was slowly coming back. Things were wobbling back into place, and the sliver of moon that was out that night slowly seemed less like a large, blurry crack in the black wall of night and more like a minuscule crack. Alice came into vision, her eyes wide but unseeing. Her chest was just barely rising, her breath shallow; one bloody hole was letting her sticky blood pour out - it was inches below her heard, in her rib cage.

I gaped at her still, tiny frame, shocked. Though my muscles were still weak and in recovery, I begged them to allow me to shake her. "Alice?" I pleaded as I did so.

Her eyelid twitched. I pressed my ear - whose ringing was slowly fainting away now - to her chest, and listened to her slowing heart. I felt tears stream like rain as I shook more roughly, now imploring her to wake from her bloodied trance as I had. But it was no use; I was sure she couldn't hear me, though not quite sure if she would wake us as I had. There was nothing I could do, I concluded to myself. I would have to call Esme to help me bring her down. I did.

After I called for Esme and she replied, I tried focusing on my own wounds, whose sharp pain was coming more into focus, as the rest of my senses were.

The pain was acute and burning. When touched, the injuries throbbed and flamed like no other injury that had ever been inflicted on me, though it was far smaller than past wounds.

Deep red blood was gushing out from each hole, streaming steadily down my arm, catching at the crease in my elbow, but slipping onto my hip, where it pooled into a dark puddle of thick blood. The iron and salt smell filled the once sweet-smelling air. The smell was so sharp that I though I could taste it as well.

I tore a piece off of my dress - careful that it was far from the pocket that held Edward's letter - and wrapped separate strips around each wound. I applied as much pressure as I could without making it more irritated and agonizing than it already was, for I remembered Esme saying that it was always good to apply a little bit of pressure to an injury because it helped it heal quicker, better.

That reminded me: where had Esme gone? Had she started coming up? I looked down, no longer afraid of the height due to more recent, gruesome events, and saw Esme hurriedly climbing back up the swaying balconies. My eyes widened as I watched her red face swell with determination and her plump figure allow her to do such athletic jumping and climbing. I smiled, loving and appreciative, my eyes swimming.

She had just pulled herself onto the second balcony, the middle one, and the moisture in my eyes began to rain down my cheeks and neck. She had a sly smile on her face when she caught me staring at her. "I'm right here, Bella," she called.

When she had toppled onto the first balcony - the one Alice and I were on - she took one look at me, and then Alice, and started belting out orders, "Bella, go help Edward. I'll stay with Alice."

"But Alice -" I began.

"Alice is in worse condition than you; I'll take care of her. You need to help my son. Carlisle is after you, help him! Distract him! You're good at making plans."

I nodded, the tears still flowing. "I have to help him -"

Esme suddenly grabbed a hold on my arm, digging her nails in. That pain seemed distant, a tiny nuisance in comparison to the two large, burning bullets in my skin. "But, please, Bella, be careful. I love you like my own daughter; you're already hurt, and I can't see it happen to you again. Ne pas le laisser vous tuer, mon chéri."

It was then that I realized I could actually die. This was a life-threatening situation. Carlisle wanted to kill me; Carlisle had a gun; Carlisle would stop at nothing to see that he was avenged. I could be dead tonight. My life could end, could stop here.

But I willed myself to push through that fear for my Edward. He direly needed any help he could get, and though I wasn't much, I could at least try. For his sake.

I channeled strength into my muscles, which ultimately lifted me up, and to the windowsill. I was struggling, my muscles shaking, as I tried to lift myself so I could swing one leg into the room, and then project myself into the room from there. But as I was fully stretching my arms out to dangle a leg in, I glanced up and saw father and son, dueling.

Edward had the gun in his hand. He obviously did not want to shoot his father, or he would have done it already. Instead, he danced around the room lithely, keeping it away from Carlisle. Carlisle was desperately trying to take the gun from Edward, but the years of his old age were prohibiting him from reaching just high enough or being just quick enough that he could snatch the gun away and do with it as he pleased.

It was going on rather violently as well - though Edward had qualms about killing his father, there didn't seem to be a problem with kicking the shit out of him; he would step on his father's toes, kick him, punch him. But for some reason, a look of guilt crossed his expression when he swung for his father's face, and directed the punch lower, usually in his gut. It puzzled me as I watched.

But Edward was not the only one fighting physically; Carlisle was making damn sure to get every weak spot, every slipup of Edward's by kicking or punching him. Carlisle didn't seem to have any problem at all with punching his son's face, but Edward was too quick for him, and ducked every swing successfully.

Watching the two fight momentarily distracted me from my work, but I pulled myself out of the trance as fast I could. Luckily, neither of the two had noticed my hovering in the window.

I projected myself in, causing the two holes in my arms to throb and burn anxiously. I grasped at them capriciously, but forced myself to deal with the task at hand: helping Edward. So, I let down my arms, and ran forward, snatching the gun from behind Edward's head, where he was holding it with two hands securely. He whipped around, angered and bewildered, but instantly softened when he saw me. But that morphed into horror and fear in a second. I sighed for only a moment; Edward could really be overprotective when he wanted to.

I didn't let it stop me though; I dove behind my vanity, Edward on my tail. I yelled at him to knock it over. He did, the glass from the mirror shattering. Carlisle was now obstructed from us momentarily. I clutched Edward's hand, hurdled over my bed, tugging Edward with me, and jammed us into the wall. I prepared us to jump out of the window, my fingers squeezing Edward's with all of their force.

But Carlisle was as quick as a bullet, shielding the window from us in an instant. Edward and I froze.

"It ends here. I'm going to kill you, Bella," Carlisle hissed, his blue eyes darkening.

Edward jumped in front of me protectively, throwing his arms in front of me. "You will not come near my Bella," Edward snapped severely, dedication woven into his sinister tone.

Carlisle pulled on a mocking pout. "Oh, you really love her, don't you?" he jeered, and then laughed menacingly. Edward stood tall, not letting his father's words hurt him. "Edward, just hand her over and no one will get hurt - well, except her. But you don't really love her! She's a courtesan! What does she mean to you?"

He laughed again. Edward began to shake with rage, and before I knew it, his foot jutted out, looking to kick Carlisle square in the face. But Carlisle was quick for an old man.

He grabbed Edward's foot. He sighed dramatically. "Oh, Edward." Carlisle twisted his son's foot. I heard several pops, and Edward suddenly shouted out in pain.

I was shocked, and rushed over instinctively to tend to his wound. But I had unknowingly set myself up.

It was me and the smug bastard, Carlisle. Though the hatred within me for him was strong, he still made me paralyzed with fear. I gulped, and froze when I saw him staring at me.

Edward was rolling around in pain now, yelling, "Bella, go! Jump out of the damn window!"

But I couldn't. I was terrified.

Carlisle drew in a deep breath. "So this is where it ends, whore?" he asked, blase. I didn't move a muscle. He paced around me, finally stopping to the side of me. "Hand over the gun, whore. It will be simple and painless if you hand it over."

Edward moaned again, and said between the groans of pain that throttled my heart, "Don't, Bella, run, I'll be behind you!"

Carlisle snorted. "How can you, boy? I've broken your foot - " Carlisle walked behind me, and stamped on Edward shin. He cried out in pain, and I dropped the gun as my hands flew to my mouth in shock - "and I've broken your leg -" He snatched the gun from the floor before I could even bend down to pick it up - "and now I'm going to kill your little whore handmaiden. Say good bye to your little prostitute." He aimed the gun directly at my forehead, and I quaked with fear. I implored my body to run, to move, but I couldn't; I was stunned and paralyzed.

Carlisle sneered as he cocked the gun.

Edward's leg was lightning fast. It projected outward, knocking Carlisle just as he shot the gun. The bullet went into the ceiling, and Carlisle crashed onto the floor. Edward hobbled up, hopping on his good leg, and seized my arm, crying, "Go!"

I turned to jump out of the window. But Carlisle grabbed a handful of my dress, causing me to slip forward, and smack my forehead against the iron windowsill.

Everything went blurry again. My ears rang and my mind blanked as it had when I had first been shot. The only true difference was that now, there was a wide opened gash in my forehead, from which blood gushed and pain blazed. My vision was turning black. I was completely incoherent and only half understood what was going on.

"Bella!" my prince cried out in even more pain than he had been Carlisle snapped his leg and foot.

"I'm going to shoot her, boy. Look away," Carlisle snarled to his son, the bite in his voice making me angry. But I couldn't find my muscles to allow me to punch him.

Now things were pitch-black. What I was hearing was only vaguely understandable, and it sounded like pleading on my prince's part and laughing on his father's. I cringed.

And suddenly there was a bright light - but it wasn't the sort that was at the end of a tunnel. It blazed brightly right in the center of my vision, becoming brighter with each passing second. I squinted soon thereafter, the intensity of the light becoming overwhelmingly brilliant.

And suddenly there was my prince, clad in flowing white, his hair done up in a neat tousle, a golden crown sparkling faintly against his beautiful, porcelain skin. His green eyes looked like true gems, and I did all I could to not get lost in them. His beautiful red lips parted, and spoke my name in the softest, most velvety tone I had ever heard; it made my heart and brain melt with its melody.

He came forward a little bit, but paused. I moaned - I wanted him to be closer to me, for I craved the light that was shining from his angelic, snow-white skin.

I reached forward a hand in a sign of need, and noticed that it was merely gray wrapped around a bone. I could see the pulsing veins bulge away from the bone, red or blue, growing larger the longer I looked at them. I looked away from my morphed arm in disgust, and focused more on my beautiful, brilliant prince.

But I couldn't help reaching forward once more, no matter how repulsive my arm looked.

My prince's arms parted, and looked as if he were reaching for me, too - but he then pushed my abhorrent arm away, and I felt my eyes roll back in my skull. Then I was falling.

My prince's light was slowly dimming as went farther and farther down into the darkness of wherever I was. I felt myself cry, tears streaming down my cheeks steadily.

But then he did a miraculous thing - he cast aside his crown, revealing his copper-colored mane, and grabbed my hand.

Then a peculiar thing happened.

My pale skin grew back, covering the bone and disgusting veins. It became more white than gray, and my tears stopped. I felt rejuvenated, revived, and my lips twitched in an effort to make a smile. "I love you, my prince," I whispered.

He heard me. "I love you, Bella. You are my life, and I will never let you go," he murmured, his voice filling my ears with the sweetest music ever heard by anyone.

Tears of joy replaced the tears of sorrow, and fell down my face where the previous tears had too, following their paths. I felt relieved and completely happy; the happiest I had ever been.

But it all ended too, too soon.

Edward evaporated. My eyes sank, and my heart plummeted. My head spun because of how fast things were now - first he would never let go, and then he vanishes? I couldn't take it; the pain was swallowing up the joy so rapidly now.

In a desperate attempt to bring him back, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping when I opened them again, he would be there again, smiling his magnificent crooked smile.

But he wasn't.

Instead, staring back at me was the cruel blackness of the night's sky. I was back to reality.

The tears were relentless.

Aww.

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