WARNING: SOME VULGAR LANGUAGE

A/N: This will be AU, with all Twilight characters being very OOC. I was writing in my notepad one night, trying to sort out my jumbled thoughts, and to break my constant writer's block. Wrote out the first 5 sentences, which then turned into a full page. I then typed it up on the computer, editing here and there on what I had prewritten, and then added a couple more paragraphs. Originally it was supposed to be a different story altogether. But then, as a last minute decision, decided to add it to a three-part story I couldn't seem to finish writing. And I ended up really liking how it meshed and it became this, now, completed one-shot. Which ended up taking 2 weeks to finish.

Anyways, enjoy.

SUMMARY: NM AU; 5 years later. The Cullen's never came back for Bella, except for one.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the wonderful Twilight. I'm just borrowing Miss Stephanie's characters and a piece of her infamous New Moon plot line. But I do own this delicious story idea concoction, though it may be just a tad on the morbid side.

Macabre; A Tale of Woe

I'm sprinting, more like quickened stumbling, through the woods, trying to escape from a dark entity. I don't look behind; I only focus on putting one foot in front of the other. To try to figure out who the ominous presence belongs to, will only slow me down further, causing my inevitable death to come quicker. The looming trees above seem to pass me by in a blur; the only light finally peeking through is from the rising sun, casting it's slightly warmed rays across the dense forest. I don't seem to notice the heavy downfall of spring rain. The situation I found myself in, brings a sense of familiarity to rise.

Macabre

"Bella, I don't want you to come with."

He doesn't want.. me.

"You don't…want..me?"

Why… why would he? I'm just a fragile weakling. A pathetic human.

"..No."

He truly doesn't want me. After everything he professed…to me.

"Bella….Promise…..Don't do anything stupid." "…For Charlie."

Why can't I be stronger than this. Why can't I be stronger than the words that have left such an acrid aftertaste in my own mind. Why am I such a tenuous mortal.

"…Promise…in return…..It'll be as if I never existed."

But these memories that so passionately burn me in such a way, that imprint excruciating butterfly kisses in my psyche, aren't they proof of such an existence? Or have I truly gone mad? Have I slipped into such utter insanity, that I may have dreamt of his perfect marble sculptured self? Along with the 6 others, his self-proclaimed family, that accompany the trails he has left in his wake.

Macabre

I can only feel my own fear suffocating me, surrounding my numbed flesh like a thickened blanket, chilling me to the bone. One other feeling appears to be pulsating through the heavy-weighted cocoon, it's fiery tendrils intertwines with the self-made fog. Adrenaline, as it likes to be called, is currently the one thing keeping my body constantly moving, instead of locking up, letting me know that its pertinent to survive.

Macabre

"….Promise you…never exist…"

As I painfully squeeze my wrists, to try and bring me out of my montage of fragmented memories, I dimly feel the cooled difference upon my right wrist. James' bite, I bitterly think to myself. No, he may try with all of his vampiric might to make a seemingly idiotic promise and erase any tangible proof I had in my possession, but he will never be able to get rid of the mark I bear. Unless he is to cut into my flesh and forcibly remove it, I muse darkly to myself. But this, along with the countless memories imbedded in the people of this tiny town, is living, tangible proof of their existence.

"…Just…lowly human…" "Honestly think…..Never truly measure up."

I should be tougher than this. He decidedly deemed me, a young girl blinded by utter devotion and fiery passion, to be unworthy for him. For his family. Someone that not just he, but also his so-called family, honestly never truly knew. The same girl, who foolishly I'll admit, accepted their blood-thirsty nature and their faults, whole-heartedly, and still stuck by his side with no regrets nor doubts.

Even after his albeit reluctant confession of my singer-like blood, the almost cruel attempts of pushing me away, and his display of strength and speed while trying to persuade me into thinking he was monstrous. Well, he did finally show me the truth in his hidden monster tendencies, when he brutally ripped my heart out and twisted my psyche into a chaotic mess and left me a crumpled heap on the forest floor. It was just not in the way he initially intended.

"Why….just give up….silly notion." "WE don't. Want. You."

Macabre

I barely comprehend the sound of the wind whipping against my ears, the dull thuds of my running shoes slapping against the muddied ground. My blood pulses underneath my slick ivory skin, whilst pounding throughout my ears. My heart races painfully inside my chest, my lungs unpleasantly constrict with each intake of the icy air. My throat seems to be swollen shut from dread-filled anticipation and my whole-body aches with an agonizing burn.

I'm lost on how long I've been running through the darkened forest. It could be days, weeks, though it feels like months, years even. My mind is constantly muddled, I've been pushed past the point of a mental breakdown. I can't tell up from down, left from right. Hallucinations of memories surround me, causing me to not be able to figure out what's real, making my subconscious realize I've lost myself to the insanity. I repeatedly pray that the end will come soon, and when it does, that God will have mercy on me.

But now that I can finally see light in the thinner part of this never-ending forest, I start to feel something other than the constant terror and insanity. Though tiny, it's pure and filled with light, which causes tears to spring to my dried eyes. Even though, deep down, I know that I'm not making it out of this forest from hell, I still can't help but to hope. Hope that I'll be able to walk amongst others in the crowded streets of New York again, to go home and sleep in my warm bed, to graduate from college. To complete my ever-growing bucket list, to see my stepfamily, and most of all, to enjoy the simple things that life has to offer.

As the light grows larger up ahead, my foot slips out from underneath, caught on a large tree root, causing me to slide through the mud. My shortened hair, along with the almost non-existent clothes I bear, become caked with the surrounding mud. I land unceremoniously in a crumpled heap on top of the ground. The rain falls relentlessly around my broken body.

Macabre

I hazily remember his calculating, unfeeling, ebony black eyes staring down upon my shattered form. Along with a cold mirthless smirk replacing his ever-present lopsided grin upon his godly face. What has he done to me… Why can't I remember everything clearly? Why can't I even think clearly? Did he destroy me to the point of no return? Will I ever come back to the land of the living?

I can feel this suffocating blanket of numbness, laying over me like a thin veil. Attached to me as if it was a second skin. There's this spiraling emptiness disguised as sorrow, so close to consuming me whole. A festering pit of darkness is fighting constantly to spill over its tightly locked container.

Threatening to corrupt my pure soul, my ever-affectionate heart, my completely accepting and overly compassionate nature. And I'm stuck on this invisible line of reality and insanity, not truly here nor there, needing only one tiny nudge to send me over the edge, where I'll be locked forever inside the confinement of my own mind. Someone save me, I beg of you, I silently plead hopelessly…desperately.

Macabre

I try to get up, screaming internally at my body to stand, to run. To escape this horrid place. But my body betrays me, not listening to a single command I give. I realize that I gave up long before the running started. Before the sick twisted game began. I turn my head to the side, tears falling silently to the ground. I can see the lively green leaves loitering the floor, taunting me with how alive they are. I smell the earthy scent stemming from the mud along with the aroma of fresh rain and spring storms. This is it, I think to myself dejectedly. This is how I die.

"JUST KILL ME ALREADY!" I howled. " PLEASE…please…just end my suffering. Release me from my insanity." I whisper, defeatedly. My achingly desperate plea seemed to get lost within the wind. Unheard by everyone, but me.

Macabre

"Bells…" "..Know you're….there." "Please….come..back…me." "..Need…you…Love you.."

I could hear the staticky sound of gruffly choked words. But what truly brought me back from the precipice of madness, was the vaguely comprehended one-sided hug, with an almost nonexistent splash of salty water on my cheek. I started to come back to the present, leaving behind the foggy haze I was previously trapped in.

As I blinked a few times, my eyes blurry from the lack of use, I became increasingly aware of my current surroundings. My bedroom was painfully bright, from what I think is the morning sun. An overwhelming sense of gratitude hits me like a freight train. I tried to refocus my lifeless eyes on my savior. Dad, I thought mournfully, as my eyes homed in on the figure who currently has their arms wrapped awkwardly around me.

I brought my left hand up to wipe away the remnants of the wet tracks I had felt, on the side of my cheek. The jerky motion must have startled him, for he let out a shaky gasp while slowly pulling back to look me directly in the eyes. His dark, grief filled eyes were widened in surprise, with just a hint of hope barely concealed. His face tight with worry, adorned a deep frown that seemed permanently etched into his sharp features. His dark hair, which looked to be greyer than it had before, was frazzled and a little shaggy. Somewhat dried tear tracks made him seem to have more age lines. His appearance haggard, the flannel he seemed to never be without was wrinkled indefinitely, as if he's been sleeping in it for days.

That's when I realized the tiny amount of wetness on my cheek was caused by his tears. My strong, ever stoic father, who never shed a single tear in front of me, was crying. No, scratch that, he was openly sobbing. I was having a hard time to hold back my own sobs after coming to this realization. What could have caused my father to cry?

Macabre

I close my eyes for a second, trying to remember one reason to not give in. To stop fighting for my freedom. Safe behind the darkness of my eyelids, a face appears. Warm, dark brown eyes, crinkled from years of small smiles and deep laughs. I love you, Bells. Never stop fighting.

Macabre

"Bells..?" My father whispered, as if speaking to a frightened animal. "Are…are you..back? Are you able to understand what I'm saying?" His gruff voice cracking towards the end, all while still gripping onto the sides of my arms. As if he was afraid I'd disappear suddenly into thin air.

Opening my mouth a few times, my jaw and teeth tired from being in the constant state of being clenched shut. I mused to myself that I probably looked as if I was a fish out of water.

"…D..dad." I'd finally able to manage, though croakily and in a whisper, my throat sore and scratchy from the disuse.

He beamed down at me, silent tears sliding down his face, glinting silver in the sunlight. You would think he just won the jackpot and a season pass to the Mariners game. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided last minute against it, and pulled me tightly to him. I buried my still foggy head into his shoulder, breathing in his woodsy scent, not realizing that I was shaking with sobs. His right hand came up and smoothed my hair down, as he repeatedly told me that everything is okay. That I'll be fine. That he's not leaving his little girl.

We sat there for what seemed like hours, my sobs never really settling down. I could still feel the dark emotions swirling deep within me, my mind still muddled as it has been. But the numbness has started to recede, instead feeling a beautiful blazing of rage settle in its wake. Along with the agonizing guilt, for scaring Charlie horribly. For not being strong enough to rise above what the Cullen's had done, until now.

I will never let the Cullen's torture me in such a way again. I will never allow another to play me in such away. And I vow to never allow another to utterly and completely destroy me like they had, again. With those last thoughts, I welcomed the drowsy haze, letting it pull me under. Finally able to get, for what feels like the first time in months, a good's night sleep.

Macabre

Dad. My eyes shoot open. I can't give up now, not after everything he sacrificed to keep me safe. Slowly, but surely, I get up. My bones protest from the movement, joints cracking from the strenuous pressure.

As I scrambled onto my feet, I willed myself to go forward. To not have let Charlie died in vain. I will run and fight for my freedom until my very last breath. With my steeled resolve, and remembrance of the vow I made so long ago, I lurch forward and start to run. My constant mantra being, put one foot forward, you will make it. You must.

I'm about half a mile from where I fell, when I feel a gust of wind from behind me. I still keep running, even after my startled intake of air. I feel an icy cold hand reach out and grab my bony arm roughly. I shut my eyes quickly, all confidence and strength I had earlier, vanishing into thin air. The owner of said hand, swung me around to face them. They leaned into my right side, grazing their nose against my exposed neck, darting out their tongue to taste the thick trail of sweat, tears, blood, and rain that had dried.

I held unusually still, with a bated breath, cautiously waiting for them to make the next move. Knowing that if I was to do anything to break out of their hold, they would take immense pleasure out of it. To my horror, they nipped slightly where they had thoroughly licked at the spot, causing more blood to seep to the surface. After they had suckled as much blood as they could from the crook of my neck, without biting into my flesh, they blew cold air against the spot.

My whole body shivered in horrified disgust, just wanting for this twisted game to end. They chuckled as they caught my obvious discomfort at their actions. They slid their lips up my neck, slowly, intimately, leaving behind shadowed kisses in their wake. Once the owners' lips met my ear, I felt them curl into a familiar half smirk. They slightly tugged on my ear lobe, causing another wave of shudders to leave my body. A torturous moment had passed, before they said the one word that would haunt me for eternity.

"Boo."

Macabre

I woke with a startled gasp. Causing me to shoot up right in my bed, disoriented. That was a seriously fucked up dream, I thought to myself. As I increasingly became aware of my surroundings, I realized I wasn't in my apartment in Brooklyn. I wasn't in my queen-sized bed, with a royal blue comforter and a dark grey downy blanket nested around me. I wasn't even in a bed, instead laying on what seemed to be grass.

I looked ahead of me, realizing I was in the forest from my hellish nightmare. I started to breathe rapidly, a panic attack beginning. And as I brought my hand up to clutch my throat, the morning light that surrounded me, seemed to pass straight through.

"What the hell?!" I screamed.

My whole body was a silver wisp of a shadow, colored in different greys. Trembling, I turned slowly to look behind. My knees suddenly gave out, hitting the floor in a slowed motion, with a silent thud following. I was kneeling beside a body, that agonizingly looked so alike to me.

Her once shoulder length brunette hair, was now chopped to underneath her ears, tangled with mud. Her bony frame, with knees and elbows jutting out awkwardly, pretzeled in an excruciating way. Her usual clear, pale skin, which is now loitered with dark bruises, deep cuts, and scars from repeated abuse. Her normal, warmth filled, chocolate eyes, gazed out blindly. Her neck snapped, sagging onto her right shoulder. I realized then, that it wasn't a stranger. That gnarled corpse, unrecognizable to those that once knew her before her trip to Hell, was me.

But the most horrifying sight and comprehension, was of the man feeding from the dead corpse. With his back turned to me, caused by his lean form hovering over my dead body, made him undiscernible. But his bright penny-colored hair, becoming slick with the increased downpour from above, was an unwelcomed sight.

"Edward…" I muttered, as I crawled back in fear.

As if he could hear me from beyond the veil, his head snapped away from his feeding. His frightening, blood-red eyes, met my, now, dull grey ones, with a snarl graced upon his face. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his crazed ones. I couldn't seem to break my gaze with the unfeeling eyes of my torturer. My murderer.

Macabre; A Tale of Woe