I've run across some outtakes / deleted scenes for this story, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to upload them or delete them since they're kind-of silly.
I gathered some opinions on Facebook and the consensus was to post them.
I'll set the scene up for you so you can grasp an idea of what the outtake is about. *You may see some things in these which were in the original story.*

Feel free to ignore these little drabbles. Again, they're silly, not to mention they're no where close to being edited to the point of story-ready.

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Bella suggests Edward alternate taking blood from her arm and from the bags. Then more "fluff" stuff happens.

. . .

OUTTAKE / DELETED SCENE

What Forms In Moonlight

A wall had formed between us, invisible and unbreakable. The longer I kept to myself, the blacker his eyes became. The obsidian stretched across his entire eye, consuming the white and creating two hole-like orbs. His motions slowed. His chest heaved with breath, as though he would suffocate. His once-bright skin became ashen and gray, as though he were decaying.

He starved himself, and when he opened the short refrigerator next to his desk I knew why. Only one more bag! How had he already gone through so much blood in a matter of days? If he drank it away then he'd look to me to satisfy his fix, and the less blood I carried with me, the closer to death I became. I placed my fresh book on the nightstand and slid out of bed. "Wait," I said, closing in behind him and he paused. He looked back with the slightest motion, giving me an adequate view of his sunken profile. I pointed to the bag in his hand then brought it back in front of me, sliding my index finger nail under the other, nearly stabbing my tender skin. "How much are you going to drink?"

"Enough to take away the burn," he said, and set the cold bag on top of the clear desk.

"Maybe you shouldn't take it from the bag," I suggested, stepping forward again. I stood beside him then, looking down on his nearly crumpled form, as though he protected my blood from me.

"I've held off as long as I can," he nearly growled. "I can't wait any longer."

I offered my wrist to him, my veins facing the ceiling. Perhaps he would go too far and relieve me of my miserable life. "Here."

He stared at my offered skin, his mouth parting and nostrils flaring. Gray fingers barely touched my skin, more cold than they ever were before as they skirted along my wrist bone. I flinched at his graze, and when he looked at me, then back to my veins he appeared almost frantic. I knew he wanted to rip into me, drink from me. There was nothing else he lived for than to fulfill his thirst. He said so himself, but his excitement turned in an instant. His brow furrowed and he pushed my wrist away and reclaimed the bag between his fingers.

"Why do you want me to do this?" he asked. "Why would you want me to drink from you?"

"I don't want you to deplete the supply. As soon as you finish those, you're going to come after me anyway, right? Why not alternate?"

"In this state I have the right mind to kill you. I wouldn't be able to stop once I started. Even now you're tempting me with your very life. Move away, Bella."

When I didn't do it immediately, or when he saw I wasn't scared he yelled move again, turning and giving me a good glimpse of those hollow, black eyes. Thirst consumed him, consumed every inch of his body. He yielded to the motions it gave him, and became a slave to its pain. He drank half a bag of blood that night, but his eyes returned to normal and his skin started to brighten once more.

I watched him decay and resurrect all within a week. Oddly enough I felt sorry for him. He couldn't control it, or overcome it. Edward wasn't the master of the house. The venom was. Edward was another servant, hoping to satisfy such a master so he could go along with his existence a little longer without interruption. The days he glowed, the days his eyes were red, he glued himself to his piano or invited me to walk the halls with him just so he could get out from behind the closed doors. We never spoke. I don't think he wanted to interrupt the silence cloaking the manor. He had been different than before. He'd become a calm prince, a satisfied king and somewhat tolerable.

Though, I felt different. My stomach turned more often during the day, but went away with meals. I wanted to sleep during the day, and found the glaring light aggravating. Since Edward didn't sleep, he had the lamps on twenty-four hours a day! It affected me enough that it made me want to scream. My solution was to take a pillow or two and retreat into the dark recess of the bathroom, where I curled up in the claw tub in the welcome pitch. I found sleep, welcomed it with open arms and it's marriage to darkness.

My eyes would open and I knew I'd been lifted away from the cold and hard, but couldn't bring myself to care. Another coolness would envelope me, steal me from my porcelain bed and give me light and softness. My limbs felt weak and numb, but still, I motioned to the lamp on the nightstand near the piano, wishing I could turn it off.

And one evening, when I'd been lifted from the claw tub and into steel arms, I found myself in warmth and shadow. The difference than before caused me to open my eyes to a room bathed in rich blue moonlight. The curtains had been parted, allowing the clear night to filter through. By the amount of light, I knew the moon had to be full or near-full. I felt a smile push my cheeks up, relief settling in my chest but then I felt the bed dip behind me and just as quickly as relief appeared, it fleeted. I flipped to my other side, seeing Edward's burgundy eyes staring at me while his head rested on the pillows beside mine. He lay on his back, above the sheets and comforter, his hands folded on his stomach.

My throat felt groggy, and I could taste the rice I had for dinner. I wanted to ask what he was doing, but I couldn't bring myself to form the words. I simply stared as he did, and we stayed that way for several minutes. He never blinked. I blinked a hundred times.

I curled my arm under the pillows. "Do you ever sleep?" I asked.

"No."

"Do you wish you did?"

His eyes twinkled. "Yes."