May I grimace for the last few chapters? But I think you are expecting an explanation and I have no legitimate one, but I do as there was an inbox I got last weekend and I promised to have this story updated and I hadn't. That was due to the mild concussion I had gotten during a basketball game, and I had been restricted to no Tv, phone, or laptop. So...I'll get on with the it since you couldn't care less (me as well) about my boo-hoo story...On we go.
Burden (To Bare)
Her throat burns, an incredible amount of irritation sending her into a near frantic drive to find the solution to soothe the barren dessert residing in the back of her throat. An admiration tinged with the deceit pertaining to fear has become an irrelevant factor when dealing with the entranced stares from humans. Repulsive, vile, sarcastic, and envy lacing the comments were more than welcomed to cast amusement within her ears, though she'd rather not test her ability to withhold the bold statement that would appear. Dealing students had become an element assisting her with balancing harmony. The strenuous minutes spent with the forsaken personalities had dealt with the heavy burden of controlling bloodlust. The tendency to have every ounce of her resolve had been the aspect that while still have not improved too much, there could be a slither of success in the pattern of attending the vast abundance of high school and college. Her perception of students dwindled to the point in which she could agree with the accusation that as the decades increased with time the teenage generation would soon become one based on the concepts of: lust, extremities dealing with profanities, receding intellectual experience, and despite the increasing cases in which the demand of unique qualities have arisen, she was convinced the future development of teenage stereotypes.
Though she'd have been hypocrite if she would not render to the fact that the qualities seemed to have always existed since her origins of experience. She could argue that the offensive conduct had spiked since the millennium had begun. Even with the knowledge she has endured numerous encounters with the students due to her inability to not become fascinated with human life.
"Of course you can draw too, I mean you're Bella...A girl who can apparently do everything." Continuous chatter, and thin whispers meant to evade her ears could not swallow the detected envy that shrouds the voice.
It's above an octave preceding a relentless whine that seems too invested in being farfetched Rosalie does not entertain the idea most would find it appealing. Her opinion being thrown towards the not so biased verdict even with the slight irritation the tone was built to mock and had been used on the brunette she found rather indulgent.
"It's more therapeutic than art."
A twitch uplifting her lips is not unleashed into it's absolute potential, and the excessive amount of comparison now that the sickly lowered voice spoken with a slight air escaping the pink lips can not be reversed. Her left foot breaches the corner first, whether it is the distinctive click of the heel gains the attention of the hallway in it's mere second of being placed down or the intimidation that holds her into a confined being. While her potent ears have narrowed in on the location it is nothing more than a speculation of feverish biding that renders her unfit to decimate the unrelenting need to ensure that the selfish keen eyes soak in the depths of the features: mahogany hair running past the unguarded shoulders, the vast spread of the fair skin, sharp jawline rounded with a tender care, and to breath in the scent she has become accustomed to. The description of euphoria has been demolished upon the actual results of having the brunette meeting her eye.
It has instilled an ignited flame with the exerting pressure of becoming victim to the pleasure a painful process induces. Her stupor holds no bares when her nostrils catch wind of the tantalizing scent. Hazel eyes bound around the familiar face until the itch of not consenting to her instincts to visit the human in weeks past. Engulfed in the presence with a few steps until her destination has reached it's end her eyebrow hitches with amusement when the irritating voice has murmured a quick biding. An silence captures the pair and for a moment she is halted with concern and mild admiration when her ears flock to the unnatural heartbeat strumming her hearing. The smile skirts around before landing with a soft yet firm grasp on her lips. It proves effective to brunette enough to have her clear her throat and amusement shines another jolt into the darkening eyes.
"Could you try not to intimidate my friends?" Hinted with a tease Rosalie fails to withhold the blossoming smirk.
"I don't think you realize the extent to what you are asking of me."
Doe eyes flick around the world and returns to the blonde with concern fondling the creased forehead. Inquisitive eyes watch her after she denies the assumption, and instead of answering the silent question Rosalie gestures to the direction the brunette had been treading before her arrival. The breath escaping the yearning mouth has her toying with a low chuckle. After a glance towards the textbooks tucked into a protective embrace her hands clasp behind her back when Bella shifts the items to shy away from her reach. The thought of using her speed and strength to take hold of the supplies is shut down with bout of disapproval shone her way.
"If you must take away the bit of amusement of even being in the presence of the insolent teens you call friends. Then I will accept defeat and cater to your request Isabella."
The name falls from her lips with a delicate care, encased with an accent she had spent a decade perfecting. She takes pride in the silent blush illuminating the fair skin, and the tantalizing smell filling her nostrils.
The familiar pattern to induce her dominance prevents her from repelling the mechanisms of her shoulders risen while her chin tilts an inch above average to peer at the teens who dared to meet her eye. The delight when the anticipation clouds curious stares before throwing their gaze to the ground with a bashing frown confirms her success. A light snort from her left has her attention flicking back to her companion, to whom has taken initiative to disregard personal space
"Are you going to tell me what exactly you're doing here, or am I victim to speculation?" Bella murmurs, halting momentarily to shift her text books into her locker.
Rosalie examines the human from head to toe, and she cannot stop the inevitable smile probing her lips. Resting her hands behind her back once again with clasp of her fingers, Rosalie nods though Bella is keen on focusing on her task.
"A simple visit is all I require."
Her eyes burn with a mischievous grin, and Bella shivers once the implications are shone full force. There's a resonating bell, and she shuts her locker with a firm yet gentle hand. Her lips upturn with amusement when the vampires features twitch in mild irritation at the sound. Hands free of the binding text books, she gestures towards the balking crowd cautiously avoiding them, and scurrying towards the cafeteria.
"Alice probably already told you, but it seems you're very fond of eating human food. So that's where we're heading," Bella grins at the clear disdain on the blondes face, and doesn't take the compliance of the vampire in stride.
"Very off putting you call that type of abomination food."
The flicker of her eyes rolling with a sense of endearment, Bella continues to lead the blonde.
...
She had been cautious of the table, and a bit apprehensive once a tense silence had encased the usually rambunctious teens. The conversation had halted, and the whispers had fallen deaf to hear ears—though she knew they hadn't escaped the vampires potent hearing—, there had been a near insufferable discomfort when she had taken a seat, and the blonde followed suit without hesitation, while snatching a chair from the nearest table with a demeaning scowl when the occupant decided to protest. It had been a quaint anxiety swelling, with her shoulders risen with anticipation, and Rosalie flicking her eyes around the table to stare with blunt disinterest. It's only her tiny nudge of her foot, that has the blonde heaving a small sigh and putting forth a small yet encouraging smile. It was enough.
While Bella hadn't joined in, or had an input on the conversation that had started with the she took solace in the blondes presence. She had to grin and give the blonde credit whenever there was a absurd question directed towards her, and Rosalie answered with a genuine answer.
"So Bella, your drawing of Rosalie is like spot on. You should seriously look into joining advanced art or something. I mean you guy's should have seen it. It was very, very detailed."
Rosalie snapped her eyes towards the dainty brunette with a narrowed glare. While the comment seemed harmless, she knew it derived from a intent to have Bella flush with embarrassment. It's another personality trait she could add to her fast growing list on her disdain towards the irritating human. Even then it had quipped her interest, and she made a mental note to further an investigation on the drawing. Her lips curled with care as her nose filled with the familiar scent, and she purposely kept her eyes away from the flushed human in order for the teen to gain a sense of stability.
"It's more of a sketch—I wouldn't say detailed, an outline really." Rosalie found the inevitable stutter quite endearing.
"I wouldn't blame her for wanting to capture a true beauty on paper," The compliment didn't go over her head, though she didn't find it to be as quenching when Mike had uttered the sentence.
"Modest as always yeah? I bet she had Ms. Hale down to the wire," Eric assuaged with a grin. "I got always got your back." He finished with a slight whisper and wink.
Rosalie let her chin taut with defiance as her scowl caught sight of his unsubtle gesture. Bella frowned, and unconsciously leaned a bit into the personal space of the vampire; though Rosalie didn't seem to mind, Angela let her own features relax from the knowing smile tilting her lips. The small convoy eased into the blondes presence with a tentative comfort.
"You should show Rosalie sometime. I mean I'd find it albeit creepy, but flattering." Jessica spoke, the latter whispered with a hesitant frown.
"I find it rather endearing actually."
Jessica blinked, and tensed with the threatening tone. The table relapsed into another bout of silence before Mike nodded with a hesitant smile.
"The kitty has claws," He offered with a lopsided grin. "Meow."
"I can retract them without the malicious intent...Though," Rosalie let her gaze settle on the brunette, with a small smirk.
"This kitty can be very, very bad when the situation calls for it."
Voice slipping into an octave lower and more husky than usual, she let her fingers toy with the loose ends of the brunettes jacket while her interest in the conversation simmered. Clearing her throat while the slight inclination of her pale cheeks continued to become ridden with a heavily tainted tint, she forced an uneven breath push past her lips.
"Most kittens don't seem to fair with a chain, maybe a leash would offer a bit more help."
She ignores the hoot of laughter, being barked her way from Mike, and echoing towards Eric. The response has Bella frowning at the tables occupants, and squinting her eyes in vain to try and decipher if the ghosting smirk on the vampires lips, and the small roll of the blondes eyes; was a figment of her mind.
Porcelain papers littering the solid oak wood desk, some withered—crumbled with frustration riddled lines strewn across the writing. In the span of two hours there hadn't been much progress on the essay that was assigned for minor credit she needed to be able to gain enough credits to pass the class. It had been a constant reminder sitting on top of the piles of papers towering her dresser that there had been numerous weeks of her neglecting her chances of moving into her senior year. The brunette had began to wonder exactly the reason for even bothering with the stacks piled onto her by her teachers. Never had she failed to meet the criteria to graduate a grade, and in fact she had been able to pass every grade with a near perfect mark. Of course she had taken to becoming a learning pupil when she had realized her failed attempts to mingle in with other students. Never bothered by the thoughts of her nonexistent social life, she had taken to drowning herself inside knowledge. Due to her early stages of excelling in school, she had been placed in most advanced classes for much of her school career. This year not being a difference she had been set into three senior courses. It had not been much of a problem until two months ago to pass the courses.
Failing behind in AP Chemistry had plenty to do with the two projects she had bluntly ignored. She regretted now that she had chosen to take on the workload of a freshman college student as a junior. Though she had accepted the punishments of on the brink of repeating the year. Leg tucked firmly underneath her while the other dangled over the ledge of the desk chair, she took a second to let the information sink in. It was nearing two hours that since she had decided to tackle the essay. Realizing she would no longer be very productive with the distractions of her thoughts she pushed herself to let the chair swivel around. It's a sense of emotion rather than sight. Her stomach churns in waves of trembling quakes, mind instantly on the prowl for the source of the strong need for the person to be near—Almost as quick as the emotions overwhelm her, they intensify. Before she could possibly attempt to process the sight, her throat tightens with her ribcage constricting. There's golden eyes watching her with curiosity and concern.
The source.
"Alice informed me you request an audience."
The thought strikes her with the ferocity of a furious storm wreaking havoc throughout it's reign of dominance—Concern. Shifting her gaze from the intact appearance of the blonde standing before her to the pile of papers seemingly sending her glares of torment, she frowns. There is an ambitious force flowing endlessly from the vibes of the vampire, and Bella has to scold herself from not noticing in the past. The permanent mark of concern that has held the features of the blonde captivate. It makes her eyes travel down the form selfishly seeking information she had overseen, and there is no single sign of objection from the supernatural being thrown into the scrutiny. From the quirk of confidence, to the impeccable posture, down to the spotless heels adorning smooth skin and perfected nail polish, Bella tilts her head. Cncentration not far from her intentions. She doesn't let her mind fail to question briefly how the girl had managed a trek through the woods without damage to the expensive shoe wear. Though her dwellings are soon taken hostage to the thought of how exactly Alice had seen something she hadn't made her decision on quite yet.
"It's—Mate."
There's perplexity before a pause of devastation shadows the face of the usually impassive vampire. Bella watches intently and tries to obtain her own true intentions of spouting the word from her mouth. It had been one thought that has been had her mind shrouded with disbelief of the information she had once been fed. Picking through her memories for any clue as to why the quick change of emotions that has been the repercussions from one meek word has the blonde avoiding her eyes, Bella nods with a sense of finality. Tension rises in the shoulders of the vampire, before a firm gaze is being thrown her way with such intensity Bella has to blink away any initial shock.
"You're concerned if what Edward—"
She does not flinch from the name.
"—Has informed you is correct."
Tension fueled with well placed pieces of hesitation fills the silence enveloping them. The stiff posture is rigid, and if not for the weariness conquering the features of the blonde Bella would have assumed the blunt question had angered the heaving blonde. She watches through narrowed eyes clouding with concern as the chest inhale only to be exhaled with burden following soon behind the air—Watches the nostrils consume much too many seconds of unneeded oxygen. Her fingers twitch, aching to soothe the crumbling vampire. The question has fallen through the ear shattering silence, but it still tingles on the tip of her tounge. The need to calm the blonde has decimated the desire of an answer, there isn't a staggering second that passes before she is standing and wants to smother the distance between them—
Her foot is misplaced, halted mid motion, blinking rapidly she trails down the well manicured fingers down to the pale hand hovering in the air. Her lips are parted in a silent gasp, and she has no wage to make peace with her erratically beating heart. It takes a mere three moments for her to come to realize that Rosalie had denied her attempt at comfort, restricting her to the spot she stands. All too quickly her posture has become impossibly stiff, and her eyes have fallen onto the her cream colored carpet. The atmosphere has been thrust into the welcoming arms of strained fraught. Her chest is entangled in the demonic vines that have captured her, and for a moment she is being thrown into the relationship they have grown out of.
Yet she manages to tear her attention away from the silence, and lets herself fall into the soft rhythm of what she has come to know. That this is not a setback in the development they have come to create, instead she delves into the knowledge that this is a testament. The unnerving air enclosing on them is one of the inevitable. In which the space between them is needed to overcome the fading distance between them, where she cannot let herself fall into the awaiting clutch of fate, and instead decide to seek the opportunity that has presented itself. Instead she must be able to withstand the pain that is bound to accompany the need of the moment.
She has to be strong for the both of them, and bare the hurt until the blonde has snapped out of the state of weakness that has taken hold of her emotions, consumed her. Bella swallows the on sled of tears and decides not to wallow in the hurt, and instead nods and set a firm gaze on the stuff blonde. Rosalie hesitates on her next move, but the decisive confirmation she receives is enough for her to briefly ignore the concern with promises of returning to comfort her later.
"Finding the one created for you. It's beautiful." The breath catches in her throat, but Bella recovers quickly.
"You will no longer feel the burden of wondering the lands of the world with a barren soul, instead you are filled with the undeserving knowledge that the earth isn't merely created for survival. The intelligence that you were not conceived for the purpose of becoming an empty creature meant to walk a thousand generations without purpose. You are able to see through a perspective, one of a newborn with the knowledge that the one that you have met would have forever brought out a personality left dormant. That the person you've had a chance encounter with will be a permanent fixture in the life you are now 'living' Life would become one that you realize you should savior, life with your mate will be one that is never taken for granted, never filled with the selfish need to have death overcome you...There is this sense. As though you can physically feel the when the two of you are in close proximity...Yet it is utterly useless to the emotions of being in the actual presence of one another. The bliss you feel when taking comfort of just the scent, it is unimaginable, the storm that wreaks havoc when you feel their arms wrapped around you i-it will cause the the lingering fears, and worries to flee at the catastrophic arrival of security."
Bella closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to control the raging heartbeat, and has decided to let the silky warmth the voice instills in her take over her senses.
"Things will snap into focus, yet the attention will forever be stolen by the breath of the other. The relationship will stand on the motto of safety. There will never be a waking moment in which you do not fear for the safety of your mate, and not one decision will be made without taking the well being of your mate into consideration. It's a need. One that will be the ultimate doom that sails across the bliss the two of you have created. Bringing the fears that lay at rest when near each other into reality. The need will drive you into a furious frenzy until you are assured that your mate is in one piece and will remain in that state. It's a darkness no one can snap out of until you are certain the threat is demolished, the only power that will bring you from the pits of hell will be in the hands of your mate. It's breathtaking and devastation bounded together. The rise and fall of their every breath will consume you whole. Every breath they take will be another into your lungs. You will live and die for your mate."
It's silent.
The silence is daunting. Bella has been provided with information she had craved: It's not enough. She has no more questions, yet there is a venomous doubt settling within her. There is nothing she can do to erase the emptiness creeping upon her, she doesn't question it—Not in fear of the unknown source of the emotions to bare it's wrath on her. She cannot muster the courage to even take a simple glance at what this moment means to them, because she has no words, no thoughts. She cannot recall ever having felt this lost. Her mind is furiously searching, investigating into the words. It's only when the familiar set of golden irises have met her confused stare with the answer. It knocks her breath away when she realizes that she is waiting. Waiting for something she cannot identify but she doesn't dwell on the elusive sentence she wants — needs — to be uttered, because while she's searching, Rosalie has the answer.
The change is instant.
"I—Rose?"
Bella understands the narrowed eyes before she can even comprehend the need for the golden eyes to fleet across the room. Rosalie takes a deep heaving breath spine straightening with the one long intake of air. It's a stride of wind that has her brown hair whipping across her face in a frenzy. In a moment she can feel her own skin crawling with a chill seeping into the warmth in which a pale hand is grasping her right forearm. The stiff and solid body behind her instills a dangerous fear when she realizes that nothing beneficial will come from what the near future holds.
There should be more words exchanged in order for her to understand exactly of what is coming. Yet when the pure anger contained by the low cry of concern reaches her ears with such stealth, she can do nothing but instinctively understand the importance of the soft warning. She isn't sure if the golden eyes had been able to detect the barley noticeable nod she provides as an answer. When a pair of hands wrap around her waist in a way that fills her with security and momentarily protects her from her own erratic heartbeat, she knows she should have never doubted the observant eyes. Heeding the blonde she braces herself for the aching movements as the breath is stolen from her lungs. Once an even breathing pattern has been established she lets the crisp air filter through her system, bringing in a cool chill.
"Victoria."
The scent has been embedded into her memory, blending in with the drive she could never lose. It has become a second nature to identify the cinnamon mixed directly with the pine cones of the forest, even with the fairly large time gap since she had last breathed in the odor. It served to become a threatening factor that has her darkened eyes currently scanning the borderline of the trees. Has the bile of venom seeping past the confines of her barred teeth, the furious heaves of her chest beckoning the intruder. With her imperial speed she could propel into the forest before the vampire has enough time to comprehend her limps being decimated. Even with the advantage of strength and speed she could never risk the possibility of Bella being injured, if Victoria were to ever best her. The deep rumbling in her chest grew, each heavier than the last as she counted the steps until they accompanied the face of the owner.
One, two...three, four, five—Her foot twitched with purpose as she took in the sight of the bright red hair being out shined by the smug smirk of the confident vampire. Rosalie shook with a burning hatred when she watched with committed attention as Victoria kept her eyes trained on Bella. She waited scowling until the crimson eyes bore into her with a peak of interest lighting the spiteful gaze.
"Exactly what is your motive for protecting a human that holds no value to you or your family?"
Rosalie flares her barred teeth with warning as the red head takes a few empty steps closer. Victoria raises an eyebrow forehead creased with curiosity as her eyes scrutinize the protective arm encasing the brunette. The potential danger emitting from the blonde vampire has the red head parting her lips with question before deciding against so. If her lingering scent around the humans room is indication from what she is currently witnessing, then her plan would be set back a few paces.
"Needless conversation has proven to be a nuisance, I speak of this as warning. Do not test my patience Victoria."
The slick mirth shinning within the radiant eyes blind her vision.
"Anger. A very complex emotion that has the senses heightened with anticipation, and shines through with ruthless aggression. A dangerous force, but not because of the terror it brings. It's the insecurity that demands the attention. I can feel it. The hatred in your eyes, the vivid images coursing through your mind. You want to rip me to shreds, decimate me until not a single ash lingers. It's exhilarating...amusing if you will."
The words uttered from the pale lips doesn't fall short from the blondes potent ears, in fact it has the vegetarian vampire even more on edge. It's the soft hand grasping her forearm that has her mind ethics still intact. The upturned lips speaks the awareness as the hot eyes burn into the gesture.
"Control is another factor of anger. One that can be even more difficult to subdue and causes the mind to become irrational. Almost compared to the human I had for dinner yesterday. He was bold and a brave soul that has to prowl the streets for a woman that could satisfy the dominance he bares. Until he came upon a woman that seemed to be too much with her blood red eyes and flaming hair. The devil is what he called her, and he seemed to find the smirk she wore very enticing. The words he spoke so unrefined, so saucy, they were very arousing. Yet the bulge he could not keep under control was very unflattering. So she lead him into an alleyway with serenading lyrics she heard a few days prior—"
Her shoulders rose with the demented grin slithering onto her lips.
"Oh how she normally went for the old, she decided to go for such a handsome young fellow. You should have seen his face so whimsical when she let him pin her to the filthy wall. His lips burned into her skin as he left tantalizing craters on her neck. Hands so warm and rough when he tickled her appropriate body parts. How could she deny him when he grumbled it was his God given right when she would moan with pleasure. He even spoke of the fun they could have if his friend were to join, and she could do nothing but wither underneath him. They were fine, until he made the mistake that cost him his precious life. He ripped apart the shirt she had bought just that day. It was a sudden switch of position. Her speed and strength surprising him. He stood in a painful paralysis as she gripped his little friend, and how he screamed she loved how he nearly burned through his vocal cords. Yet she had lost interest when he started begging, so she made his death swift. Draining him as he grunted in displeasure..."
Rosalie could do nothing but stare at the vampire with distrus, her hands itching to allow her instincts to grasp the contours of the pale skin. Yet the lingering effects of the words seemed to cause her to become locked underneath the past of her previous life.
"You have dealt with a feeling similar Rosalie am I correct?"
Mouth enclosed with the murmurs of her harsh memories she refrains from letting the series of questions from coherent sentences. She would not have her attention focused on herself in a dangerous situation. One that can lead to the end of the being that will bring her an unbearable pain if harmed due to her own error.
Victoria trains her attention onto the human. And Bella has fallen incapacitated due to the sheer volume of pure hatred pouring into the stare without effort. With fear she invades the space of the still immobilized blonde, seeking the comfort of safety that transpires with the physical contact.
"Do not worry Isabella. First hand encounter seems to prove effective. My friend will take pleasure in having his way with you, your scent may seem problematic. He hardly has any self resistance, yet you have a fair attractiveness of a woman. Your innocence may also arouse him in—"
Her eyes could hardly find the comprehensive peace, before the blonde is torn from her side with a speed she couldn't fathom one could possesses. Before having the luxury to blink, the blonde is stoic still, shoulder ridden with an inelastic stance bounding her to her place. Bella has the instinct to cower into the nearest solid foundation when a pair of ebony vexed eyes are set upon her, while her conscious searches for a meaning behind the pinning stare filled with unadulterated execrate. It's fueled with a revulsion that has the bile crawling up her abdomen, and instills a fear that has never occupied her veins. Her blood runs cold, and halts without fault. It's not until the blonde shadows a flinch that has the daunting cognizance, enter her system. There's an apprehensive feeling mounting in the forefront of her mind, and while she hardly registers the cool and anomalous hand encasing her arm; she pauses. Captures the devastation in the onyx eyes, and tormenting lines conforming her fear. It's strange she wants to mutter.
"While the disdain is mutual, I cannot deny the fact you're blood is quite tantalizing. Even more so than average,"
The shiver taking down her spine is one she cannot distinguish is from the paralyzing breath caressing her earlobe, or the rough hiss escaping the blondes lips.
"You're even more delectable than Victoria described."
An indecisive flicker is thrown towards the red headed vampire watching the three in silence, and Bella wants nothing more than to soothe the Rosalie's distraught stricken features.
"Oh don't you toy with the blonde one Daniel. She's seems quite taken with dear Bella," Bella can see the murderous leer Rosalie sends Victoria, before the stare is turned upon the male behind her.
"She's even more ravishing than the brunette. What a demanding sight you are for the eyes...Rosalie?"
Her chest clench with an irritating discomfort when she can practically feel his eyes raking down the blondes figure.
His voice is hoarse, lacking an amusement, but tainted with a taunt never leaving his lips. Her shoulders stiffen, and the muscles in her stomach twist and pull as though shying away from the cold fingers with—a leisurely pace—creeping past the barriers of her shirt. She wants to let the tears fall, and curse herself for deciding on such a tight fitted shirt, that cannot keep the eager hands at bay. Yet the eerily silent blonde watching without a step, and unblinking stare has her merely clenching her jaw. Her mind twitches and she attempts to calm the frantic nerves; Rosalie would never let his intentions become a reality, she trust the vampire. She'd let the comfort of her faith in the blonde drive her instincts. She wouldn't give either the red head, nor male vampire the satisfaction of a fitful attempt to escape their well planned fate.
She keeps her eyes solely on Rosalie, who in return keeps a solid state on her captor, while in never turning away from Victoria. Bella can feel her breath catch with anguish. It's only when his unoccupied hand that's not caressing her stomach and creeping into danger territory—Snakes down and is encouraging her jeans to part; That the blonde reacts. Her attentive eyes snap to the calloused hands, and a demeaning step is taken, one tentative, and unsure. She hears a rough chuckle, before the hand slips away from her pants to rest on her wrist.
"It's no fun if you don't make a sound Isabella, it doesn't seem you'll have anyone to the rescue. She won't even attack when you're in distress, and yet you attempt to give her the comfort of your silence. Why?"
It's a rhetorical question, one she can't help but entertain internally. While cannot soothe the blondes distress entirely, she's willing to give Rosalie the comfort in not hearing the pleads of her own voice. She doesn't think she can bare the sight of being the cause of the blondes pain any further than now, not when she's only learned of her factor in Rosalie's previous issues.
"Give her an incentive Daniel. Make her feel the pain, the anguish I felt when learning of your brother's death, she so rightfully is owed it."
"My pleasure."
The revelation hardly enters her brain before the low whisper is creating a strengthened hold that seems to coil around her barren neck. It's starts out with a steady hand—or that's what she thinks occurs, it's a reminder. One that thrust her into the hackles of the distant memory that surges with a vengeance. Of the hard hand curling around her leg, severing it in half without much effort; the sharp cuts making precise incisions on her cheeks from the glass, the uncomfortable teeth sinking into her flesh and releasing a toxic substance that scorched her veins with a demented heat, unbearable.
The scream leaves her lips before she can even entertain the idea of withholding the insignia of her pain. There's a white light bright and unique, flashing behind her eyelids and it takes her a moment to realize her eyes have derailed to the darkness behind her head, it's searing; blinding. A heart tearing through her sends a shock wave that has her withering underneath the distant hand. Her arm feels heavy, a load filled with lead she thinks she's carrying with the imbalance. Her hands fist before she can process the ungodly form her arm has taken, her eyes shoot open with purpose. Rosalie is standing with a face that shouldn't be described, that her eyes shouldn't be laying upon, and her face is a contortions of a grimace of a forced smile, all teeth and no sincerity. Her eyebrows are furrowed with uncontested concern for the blondes face that looks as in much pain as she can feel. Her throat is hoarse, and scratching, by the time she finds the will to stop screaming. It does nothing to ease the pained stare Rosalie is watching her with, if anything it intensifies the stare.
"Oh don't stop. Please don't, you were sounding awfully majestic my dear," She can barley notice the hand slithering towards her forearm.
The sound breaks into her conscious before the pain, it's a sickening crunch that resembles the wreckage of a thick branch tumbling into despair. Her bottom lip captures the essence of the scream threatening to decimate the barrier.
"You're helpless, useless, and can feel the truth that you can do nothing while everything around you crumbles. You want to attack him, maul him in a way that no one can even distinguish he's a living body. Vanquish the one thing that stands between your very own life, and her's—"
Victoria lets out a laughter desolate of any amusement. It's laminating the humorless cackle, and Bella nearly crumbles due to the sheer force of the pain.
"D—Don't. She's baiting you, d—don't listen Rosalie." Her tone is near mute, and coarse with the pain ebbing it's way into her plea.
Victoria tilts her head with interest.
"If she were to die by his hand would you seek vengeance? We're she to have a slow and painful dea—"
Her head swivels and her mind can't fathom the infuriating pain searing down her shoulder blade; Or at least she can assume it's her shoulder that feels awfully like the time she had dislocated it from it's hinges when she and her father had managed to have her give in to his persistent desire to go hiking several years ago. Reverberation simmers the pain only for anew to flourish with a vibrating rumble to produce a heavy hitting migraine. It leaves her in a delirious spell bounding phase, one that leaves her incautious enough to try and break. The grinding vibrations that leave a thunderous yelp resonates with her, and Bella strives to have her eyes open. A venture that leaves her with more harm done than alleviate the pain, but she directs her broadened pupils to the source of the sound causing her head to split into halves.
Unfocused eyes search, and come to an inclusive verdict as the longer on the various articles of shredded clothing being scattered around without care. Her eyes land on the purpose for her endeavor, and a pitiful whimper leaves her tired, and chapped lips. With an incredible amount of resilience she has her knees under her upper-body, and is trying to reach the livid vampire. The one ripping into the short haired brunette with varying detached limbs, and she keeps tearing. Creating the sound of bricks upon bricks trembling with an unsteady foundation. Her stomach grips the fear of the future development as the vile vision harshly embeds itself into her memory. It's non stop, and Rosalie isn't seeing anything other than the limp form she has her fangs set into, neither does she comprehend the neck she wrenched it's head off with a clean snatch. Bella does. There's a conceding laughter that's faint and vague to her brain, she has her gaze set on the dreadful sight.
"He's dead—" Her own throat cuts her off.
"It's fine, Rosalie I'm fine."
The thrum, is consist, and insistent to not be left neglected. Even when the deafening silence she knows is apart of a figment of her imagination, she finds solace in the fact that she was able to attain the blondes attention before her legs buckle; The momentum of her head collapsing while her subconscious flourishes with the familiar set of arms encasing her before her body hits the solid ground.
"Get her to Carlisle—" She doesn't know if it's her mind.
"We have to go after her before she escapes. Alice burn the body."
...
Fear (1): It has a way—It's lethal. There's a moment of silence, mind shut down, and you're completely cut off from the world. It's a large second that last for far longer than some would consider 'normal. The numb feeling slows down to an unbearable pace, one where the uncensored rotation of the earth is felt at a pace where you can feel the sway as if it is moving through a wormhole. The incredible speed is brought to a halt when the mind has had a moment to connect with what your conscious has either seen-or felt, because the nauseating movements is demolished under the sheer force hammering your erratic pulse. It's still the absolute silence you hear, it even beating at a rate that should alarm you of panic.
You are near the brink of desolation until you accept a peace with the fact that is reality. It brings you to the dawning realization that you have been victimized by the torturous traitors that lay hidden behind the comfort you have been able to generate. It's the dangers of the mind that has manipulated destiny to create and embed unrealistic imagery and drill them into your own belief. A vast array of fear lies beneath the surface, waiting. Lurking beneath the comfort and safety until it's chance to be able to glare upon you full force.
It derives from the constant hum of the mind unable to shut down the imaginative birth right that consumes the brain whole. One concept that never seems to have a meaning, nor can gain a proper and definitive definition. It can become victim to the hundreds of context, vowels, and distinct languages that have many tales, and stories that are founded upon the mere word. She could remember the countless origins she had read through text, about fear; 'the unpleasant emotion caused by belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain or a threat'. The distinctive amusement that had shone through her sincere smile that had spread across her features before she could even attempt to rid herself of it when she had come upon the english definition. It was very simple, to summarise an emotion that could reign a foreign terror that could be developed with different aspects, and levels.
She had wondered, searched for the truth behind the definition. Hours, upon hours spent in order to gain the moment in which she would feel the absolute whole of terror to consume her being. If there was a truth in which a moment a cloud of destructive gray could send her into a decimated desolation barren with unadulterated fear. Never had she believed their could be such a moment, even when she had learned of the emotions that came with a death of a mate. She didn't think the two could be compared, not when the mind would separate from the path of a glorious feature only to be shattered with the news of the lost purpose between life. Would derail from all coherence and deplete into a formidable process to plan a tantalizing death to be presented for a dead mate.
Rosalie had been an imbecile, a stupendous one that couldn't possibly have the proper education of a graduate. For her to think she could deceive the grasp of the universe and be one that could escape the clutch of the stars, and leave the world without a tangible taste of true fear, merely absurd for her to assume so. It had taken the anguished screams, fuelled with a pain contorted expression, for her to see the truth behind the meaning. A rapturous dance with her mate's well being for the philosophical truth to become unmasked.
Fear: It has a way—It's lethal. It's the dangers of the mind that has manipulated you, to create and embed unrealistic imagery and drill them into your own belief. Lurking beneath the comfort and safety until it's chance to be able to glare upon you full force.
Her hands caress the warmth with an inconsiderate greed; she wants nothing more than to ease the discomfort from the brunettes forehead, to be the reason for an enthusiastic smile to smooth away the thinly lined lips. It's lunatic entertainment, considering the arising issues. It's her very own fault that the brunette is in distress, and that alone has an onslaught of venom forming, and requiring the need to be unleashed without halt. Her eyes scan the calm breath, rise and fall of the active chest. The constant threat to the heart that seems to being a frantic rhythm and return to a tranquil beat, before gaining another speed that has her frightened with the cause. The parted lips that hold a breath and release a bout of air only to press together with a tortuous crease of furrowed eyebrows, and hitching pulse.
"She'd never allow you to drown in self-hatred, maybe she can feel your self loathing on a conscious level. Maybe that's the cause of her fitful rest,"
Her attention stays on the restless human, but she slowly retracts her hands to rest on her trembling knees.
"Could there be a purpose for the constant threat we are while we are near?"
Esme takes a seat to the chair adjacent to the blonde and remains an considerate distance away, and Rosalie sends her a mournful yet appreciative smile. A silence enveloping them and Rosalie is content to simply listen to the entrancing heartbeat, though it's replaced with the common uneven breath that pushes through her clenched teeth when Bella lets out another year that had been reoccurring since Carlisle had stabilized the erratic behavior her body had resulted to.
"Should their be a purpose for everything," Esme tried. "If there was a simole, or even complex answer to everything. Would we live in a world with hate, sorrow, pain, or bliss? Like there is no true reason behind our existence, there is no honest answer to the suffering that is a permanent fixture behind all life."
Rosalie tears her gaze away from her mate to level the benevolent smile, with a pure smile that while didn't reach the depths of her sorrow, did alleviate the darkened mind tormenting her.
"Blaming yourself for the inevitable won't solve the issues at hand."
"I find the pain is easier to deal with when I have the burden to bare rather than Bella."
Esme remains silent, and continues to watch the gentle reminder that there is a living human she can protect from the death looming over their shoulder with a constant scowl.
"I bare the burden so she doesn't have to," Rosalie murmurs with a soft smile.
It's soft—So delicate it feels as though the touch could possibly savage me. Slow and ferocious as it caresses every inch of skin...It can maul her without control and the emotional turmoil it brings is enough to drive me into the brink of insanity. Her palm isn't so cold and hallow as she makes herself out to be. In fact it's the exact opposite. Her touch is a manipulation; bringing me slowly to the realization that this warmth is put there by the fact that she has so much life inside of her. That the branch of light clouding her mind is due to the close proximity between them. Rosalie is not a decaying corps inside out. I'm not going to stumble and fall into the idea that she thinks she's a cold soulless being, meant to harm and leech off of the life of others. I refuse to believe that she is heartless, but I can conclude that she thinks very lowly of her morals.
My chest squeezes and is roped into an abyss of pain for her. I'm not the one who should feel so much pain that it consumes me, because she's hurting. Yet I can't help but accept it. This is what I do. I feel the wrath and brutal beating of the hurt, so I can spare others of it. Appease them until they are curled and clean from the slate of the dark world of themselves, but she's different. She not only wants desperately to find that light in the dark, but also craves to be someone that I can depend on. I'm the light, and she's the shoulders. It makes sense. We click on a way I don't with others; in ways that hadn't ever made sense to me. Honestly she deserves so much more in life. Things that I'm not sure I can give, but she doesn't care. Right now she isn't catering to her well being. Instead she's latched herself onto the ideas of making me better. This frightens me.
I hate myself for it. Rosalie doesn't expect anything. It stumps my brain everytime I try to come up with a legit reason as to why she feels the need to make sure that I'm protected. I can't even find it in me to question her, because there's this need. A craving that I have that has me bounded in a spell to make sure she's not letting the darkness consume her. It helps that there's a deep connection between them. I hate myself, because compared to the way I was with Edward this is completely new territory. I want to chalk it up as a crush, to blame it on trying to find a rebound from Edward, but I can't. That would hurt too much to even think that I could possibly want to try to take advantage of her like that; That alone is all the confirmation I need to know that this is far from a crush...Deeper than anything that I've ever felt.
Yet even knowing that, I can't place a name for this. I don't want to either. I'm perfectly content on knowing that the thing surging between the two us is simply a friendship that feels and seems to be based on comfort. Right now is perfect, because we're healing together. Finding condolences in one another, and desperately hanging on to the thoughts that despite our past, we can see a future where we are the light that guides the other. I'm content on saying that were fine. That while we seem to have stumbled upon something truly beautiful, we're still lost. We're still searching for the inevitable. What it is? I have no clue, but as of now we're fine. We can flourish together.
...
Casey closes her eyes for a moment, and let's the lurking doubt seep into her mind. With an affirming remembrance, her hands curl around the thin porcelain paper inscribed with an elegant lettering, with a wrench she finds solace in the trembling entry in her hands. Her fingers clench together and in a swift clap the paper folds into disintegration. Her chest feels heavy, with the uneasy sigh escaping her pale lips as she thumbs through the other entry's in the journal she had managed to find in between the two mattresses.
Quite literally I'm cringing with the previous chapters after I've done a thorough read through. Honestly I'm amazed it's even worthy of a read through by you gracious readers. I sincerely apologize for the lack of update, nothing can be enough of an apology, but it never hurts to say. I'm sorry...This could be like two split chapters, but I couldn't leave you guys hanging with my selfish writer instincts...I even tried to spell check and grammar correct it. I'll re read it for good measure though. I promise.
Write Ya Later ;)