Chapter Ten

Triumph of Disintegration

Experiencing a disappointing amount of creative direction in her life or art, Bella had resorted to writing stream of consciousness journal entries in an empty moleskin she'd procured from Edward's massive library. On the first page she'd attempted to write a song or a poem or something normal. The result had been a simple melancholy ten line rhyme scheme that screamed common teenage depression spiral. Bella finally tried journaling after tearing out the first eight pages in annoyance of her inability to write any material whatsoever. Her punk prowess was gone. She's been stripped of her crown.

Edward noticed Bella's agitated mood grow more desperate over the course of the seventy-two hour period following Jasper's departure. She'd avoided fiction novels and television like the plague, instead keeping to her tiny journal. He'd invested in several pens forged from pre-war era steel years back, the only tool that could withstand the furious scrawlings of a Vampire. She'd received a few in her nightstand as anonymous peace offerings. The book's pages would surely run out within the next day, so he made sure to keep her bedside drawer stocked with a month's supply as well.

The weather had been fairly sunny for late October, so the unlikely roommates stayed confined to the walls of 3027 West Laurelhurst Drive. Edward anxiously tidying every room Bella passed through; and Bella logging the seven hours she spent breathless, still as a marble statue. She'd deduced her Vampiric state could endure hours doing absolutely nothing.

On the rare occasion Edward and Bella crossed paths, she would act oblivious and wander away just as quickly as she came. The tension in the home was thick. Edward decided to break their impasse on of the fourth day of shared solitude. He gently knocked on the study's door frame, the door had been propped open with a pile of books. In his right hand he held Bella's bass guitar, he'd replaced every broken string and knob with expert care. "Would you like to play with me?"

Bella smiled at the sincere invitation, utterly forgetting the run on sentence she'd been conjuring. "I'm sure you could find someone better suited to jam with."

Edward chuckled. "And pass up the once in a lifetime opportunity to jam with the illustrious Bella Swan?"

"I heard she died. No one's seen her."

Edward felt the weight of Bella's sadness from across the threshold. "Most would say a posthumous record is quite lucrative. You're welcome to use or break whatever you like in my music annex."

"I'll think about it," Bella mused. "Thank you." She turned her attention back to her notebook. Edward dejectedly excused himself to his bedroom.

As the sun set a few hours later, he listened as Bella tip toed over to the attic stairs. She soundlessly drifted up the narrow steps and slid the white pocket door aside. Edward's laborious heart beat and uniform breathing could be heard emanating from his bedroom just below, a fact Bella processed and then pushed aside just as quickly. If he wanted to interrupt or eavesdrop on her musings, he absolutely had the right to do so. Though, Edward had made it known he would always be a gentleman to Bella. Surely he'd understand the intention behind the absence of invitation.

Bella gawked at the eight hundred square foot 'A' frame music gallery. Edward had painstakingly invested in every instrument lusted after by the modern musician; a 1913 Steinway upright, 1968 Fender Telecaster, Theremin from 1930, even a three piece Gretsch drum kit circa 1950. His collection was impeccably cared for and dust free. The vast collection surely put Edward amongst the top ranks of old men with disposable leisure time and endless capital.

She walked at a human pace to the glossy black upright, suddenly longing to hear the four chords infiltrating her conscious played in real time. The matching wooden bench creaked as she sat on the edge. Her finger's ghosted the keys, careful to provide the gentlest of touches to the yellowed ivory. It was tuned well, every key appeared to be in working order. She fumbled for G-sharp-minor-seventh, then C-sharp-seventh. F-sharp and E-flat-minor followed in a staccato pattern based in four-four time. Easy to transpose for the guys. She frowned.

"The last ten days have been a motherfucker," she said rhythmically, repeating her off color arpeggio. "I didn't know if I'd survive."

At that moment she felt inspired to take on Motown, her fingers tapped the same chords but adopted the down beat as well. "What is the flaw in just running away? Running away fixes everything. how can I, why should I stay? Just to view the triumph of disintegration?" Bella sighed and relinquished her hands into her lap. She felt inspired by the juxtaposition of a delicate, uptempo piano piece and a downhearted libretto. She wanted her bandmates to hear the newest direction she'd locked onto; if only to ask Mike about fills and tempo changes, or see the delight in Eric's face when he'd effortlessly rip through some dramatic guitar riff on the first try.

Instead, she'd be stuck playing the same staccato chords to herself in a lonely attic until her 'rehabilitation' had concluded. "Lestat had the right idea," she lamented. Her fingers found those familiar keys and played from the top. One, twice, three times, ten times; Bella felt her fingers coming down more forcefully on the keys with every new measure. Not enough to crack the ivory, but enough that Edward finally looked up from his dense read: 'Finnegan's Wake' by James Joyce.

"How can I, why should I stay? Just to view the triumph of disintegration?" She kept the tempo steady, but quickly switched into a spry bridge that arched back into the simple tune she'd started with. Bella's sterile surroundings flooded her mind with despair and panic. She felt an invisible barrier heave over her prefrontal cortex like a fitted sheet. She had to leave. Now.

"Bella?" she heard Edward call from his room. His bedsprings squeaked with subsequent movement. She silently thanked the universe for his inability to read her mind. Her breathing stilled, his foot falls followed suit. They'd entered a stalemate. If Bella bolted for the front door, he'd surely catch her. If Edward entered the attic and saw the panic etched on her face, he'd never allow her out of his sight.

Bella decided to act fast. Sliding the closest window frame aside, she gently kicked out the frayed screen and jumped into the garden below with ease. As a fellow Vampire, she knew Edward would follow her scent like some kind of supernatural bloodhound, so she opted to dive into Lake Washington and swim west until cold blue water gave way to land. The lack of air would also halt any attacks on unfortunate pedestrians in her travels, a plus if she was to remain inconspicuous. She'd also have to stay out of the minds of humans. Though, in a city as large as Seattle, that would prove to be an impossible task. Especially since Edward was certainly on high alert for her whereabouts.

Five minutes was all it took for Bella to swim the two miles from Laurelhurst to the Union Bay wildlife preserve. A familiar haunt from her time as a college student, Bella crept through the tall grass and stared into the starless sky attempting to recall specific memories of smoking joints on the shoreline with Jasper. Her mind was as murky as the water just twenty yards to the south.

As Bella impatiently waited for her threadbare clothes to dry, she listened to the heartbeats of students leaving campus for the evening. She figured from the complete lack of sun, it had to be after seven in the evening. A time for Vampires to hunt, she thought.

As if God himself had listened to her thoughts, a pair of young women hurried down the secluded dirt path Bella laid claim to. They were chatting about a House of Dirt Halloween party they planned to attend that evening. An event that Paper Dolls had been offered to headline in her previous life. Bella grimaced once more. Remnants of her humanity hung out of reach, like tattered streamers following a party. She saw them, was annoyed by them, but ultimately could do nothing about them.

"Happy Halloween!" one of the girls shrieked at Bella as they passed by.

"I like your costume," the other mocked, referring to Bella's lack of festive garb. Bella vision skewed red instantly.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" She said, her voice bitterly cool. She seem to at once disappear and reappear, only to block their desired path. Her eyes drained of color and her fangs descended, a telltale sign that these women were experiencing their last moments on earth. Their human eyes were unable to decipher these changes, but they sensed danger rolling off Bella in waves.

"No-nothing," the snarky girl muttered, her eyes glued to the rocks at her feet.

Remorse tugged at Bella's subconscious, but she tabled the thought to focus on the pounding heartbeats inches from her lips. She desired information before she drained them dry. "Who's playing tonight?"

"W-what?" the first girl stuttered.

"The HoD show? Who's headlining?" Bella tapped her foot impatiently.

"Paper Dolls, I think." Recognition crossed the girl's face. "Hey, aren't you the singer? Dude! I'm a huge fan."

The girl's distraction provided the opportune time for Bella to seize both their wrists in her ironclad grasp. She systematically drained every last drop of warm, delicious ambrosia from their now lifeless bodies. Bella smiled at her handiwork, she hadn't felt this powerful or sated in weeks. "Fuck you, Edward," she murmured as she quickly undressed the girls and disposed of their bodies in the lake.

Finding her current attire to be unfit and too realistically bloodstained for a public Halloween show, Bella exchanged her shorts and tank top combo for the snarky girl's high rise leather trousers and eyelet mesh cropped shirt. The garments clung to her curves perhaps too tightly for everyday wear, but she'd fit in impeccably at the House of Dirt on Halloween night. She opted to wear the other girl's classic black Dr. Martens, a Bella Swan staple.

The human blood coursing through her veins allowed for very little regret and entirely too much confidence; a lethal combination that had her gleefully racing for the House of Dirt mere minutes after disposing of her tragic victims. Bella's human memories of the venue's location were cloudy at best, but she was confident she'd arrived when droves of party goers enthusiastically formed a line on an unassuming side street. The weather had dropped a few degrees with the sunset, but this didn't prevent the guests from dressing in their skimpiest Sunday best. Bella chuckled at a group of women huddling for warmth around a bottle of Fireball.

Confidently strutting past the line in her borrowed costume, Bella approached the burly doorman. "I'd like to go inside," she commanded.

"Yeah? And so does Dracula Jr.," the man joked, pointing at some kid's poor attempt to disguise his braces with Vampire teeth. "Back of the line, sweetie."

"I'm with the band."

"Sound check was an hour ago. Back of the line," he repeated blankly, he hadn't even met her gaze.

Bella felt the familiar red vignette creep into her vision, but quickly pushed all thoughts of homicide far from her mind. There was certainly a time and place to feed; now was not the time and Jasper's place of business could not be the place. She swallowed her venom and chose a slightly sweeter angle.

"I know, I'm so sorry," she said, her ethereal brown eyes finally locking with the bouncer's. He stiffened under her gaze. "I lost my phone and couldn't reach my bandmates. I'm such a space cadet," she laughed, dialing the sultry charm to maximum levels. The man could hardly resist, almost as if he'd been hypnotized by the scantily dressed Vampire. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me in."

"Uh, I... Uh," the man stuttered.

"Oh, thank you, sir," she said, placing her pale hand on his black t-shirt clad chest. "You've made my night."

Brandishing a wicked smile, Bella deftly pushed her way past the crowds of young concert goers. Her bloodlust was hard to ignore, but not impossible seeing as she'd been lush with her recent meal. She cozied up to the bar, a lazy grin exposing her fangs.

"Well, well, well..." a familiar voice drunkenly droned. "Vampirella in the flesh. Those fangs are sick, dude."

Bella blanched, but quickly remembered Halloween night easily explained away any discrepancies between mortals and immortals.

"Playing hooky?"

She turned left to see her most beloved bandmates slamming beers and shots at the bar. "Something like that," she teased.

"Does Jasper know you're here? Last I heard he locked you up and threw away the key," Eric slurred, sliding a crumpled five dollar bill across the bar.

"Yeah, Bells. Are you sure this is okay? Trying to get sober at the House of Dirt is like... it's like. Well, It's not good," Mike added, slamming two drink tokens on the bar as well. "But, like, do you need something to drink?"

"You two are hammered," she laughed. "and, no, I'm fine. See, I can say 'No'."

"To life! Salud!" Eric cheered, thrilled to see his best friend thriving sans her appetite for substance abuse.

Bella grinned, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow in amusement. "To life!" Eric and Mike downed their shots of whiskey like professionals, simultaneously setting the empty glasses onto the Budweiser branded drink well.

"What are we celebrating?" Jasper asked, appearing from the other side of the packed bar. His eyes were unfocused and he swayed ever so slightly. Jasper set up four shots of Jim Beam on the bar mat. He effortlessly threw back his allowance of whiskey and slammed the glass onto the floor. Bella had only seen Jasper in his current state a handful of times. The memories were hazy, but she knew, without question, Jasper was absolutely annihilated. Feeling truly comfortable and in her element for the first time since D-Day, Bella grabbed the remaining shot, clinking glasses with Eric and Mike as she drew it to her lips. Inhibition had to be checked at the door at punk shows, the members housed little judgement in their hearts and welcomed all with open arms. Even an undead bloodsucker who would most likely need to find a way to discreetly rid herself of their social lubricant.

"Our Bella!" Eric yelled, heaving his High Life into the air with a white-knuckled fist.

"We're gettin' the band back together!" Mike howled in agreement.

Jasper sobered considerably upon seeing Bella's alabaster face. She flashed a cheeky smile, her fangs on display. "Oh shit, oh shit..." he whispered. "I'm so fuckin' dead."

"Hey Jazz," Bella purred. "You tryin' to catch flies?"

"I'm tryin' to catch a break, Swan. Where's Edward?" he said, leaning over the bar to avoid nosy bar guests. "You can't be in here."

Mike and Eric grimaced at their friend's serious demeanor toward Bella. "Dude, cut her some slack. She's fine," Mike yelled. He grabbed Bella by the arm and hauled her deep into the crowd of dancing guests. Jasper attempted to jump over the bar, but was stopped by countless customers charging the empty space the trio left behind. "You're playing with us tonight," Mike stated.

"C'mon, let's get you a bass. Eighty-six Misfits cover band, we're pulling out the Pixies setlist. You remember, right?" Eric asked directly to Bella. She beamed, feeling Ferris Bueller levels of pure joy and excitement. She didn't need Edward, or undead politicians telling her what do to. How was disobeying the Volturi or the Cullens any different than abandoning her own Mother and father and the United States Government? She'd crossed and burned that bridge years ago. Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it. Or something like that.

"Uh, yeah. Like I'd ever forget a single note Kim Deal wrote?" Bella rolled her eyes.

"Fuck yeah, man. This is gonna be sick," Mike yelled, once again cheersing his beer with Eric. Their drinks rained down on Bella's hair.

They wandered into the dimly lit green room. Cocaine covered every flat surface and cigarette smoke filled the air. Bella breathed deeply, enjoying the tingle of nostalgia associated with the smell of gasoline and tobacco. Whiskey burned on her tongue, but sloshed uncomfortably in her stomach. Mike began furiously scrawling a new set list on a beverage napkin while Eric asked every available bassist if he could borrow a bass and cab for the headlining set. The second band to play, 'Mum', happily agreed to leave the appropriate gear onstage for Paper Dolls following their set. The men lovingly fist bumped and returned to their respective cliques.

"You want some blow, babe?" a young groupie dressed like Cher asked, bumping into Bella with her bare shoulder. She held a house key in her right hand and a fifty bag in her left. "Oh my god, are you Bella Swan? Holy fuck, Ashley. Ashley, babe, get over here."

"Uh, no. I'm okay, thank you," Bella said, shifting uncomfortably. She'd never once denied cocaine.

The groupie shrugged and stumbled over to the girl she'd referred to as Ashley. The pair gossiped over how perfect and unbelievably cold Bella's skin was, how she didn't seem quite human. They giggled as they realised how silly the assumption was. Bella breathed an unnecessary sigh of relief.

The first band, 'ShakeWave', started their Buzzcocks cover set with 'Ever Fallen in Love'." Cliche, yet classic, Bella mused.

Mike continued to hover over the cluttered coffee table where he'd been weighing the pros and cons of starting the set with 'Where is My Mind'. After railing three consecutive lines of cocaine, he jumped to attention. "Okay," he began, swaying slightly on his feet. "Look at this and give me your honest opinion." Mike shoved the stained white napkin into her empty hands.

Bella scanned the offensive item in mere seconds and nodded. With a single glance she'd recalled and memorized every chord and harmony with savant like accuracy. To perpetuate her fallible human facade; however, she kept her eyes locked on the paper until Mike snatched it back and shoved it into his pocket. "Okay, we need more beers. Who needs a beer?" Mike yelled over the booming amplifiers in the next room. "One, two, four... Okay, I'll just buy a thirty rack." He stumbled into the chaos of the decrepit ballroom and slammed the door behind him.

Nearly an hour and three beers later, Paper Dolls stood poised to take the stage for the final cover act of the evening. The crowd was energized and overserved, thanks to Jasper's inexperienced bar staff. Each patron had eagerly paid ten dollars at the door to witness the hottest garage punk outfit in Seattle, especially since it was rumored Bella Swan left the band weeks ago. Many of the rumors Bella overheard amongst the crowd centered on some grandiose tale of overdose or pregnancy. No mention of the undead or Vampires, which further fueled Bella's confidence to live out the final years of her stolen human youth until she was forced to disappear into obscurity. The Cullens weren't her legal guardians, she'd get the law involved if she felt the need to.

'Mum' began the first chords of their final song; a thrashy version of Monster Mash that excited the swirling pit of brawny costume clad fans. Bella faintly smelled stale blood mixed with sweat and beer. Fortunately, the scent was mostly revolting. She mused that Edward probably struggled with bloodlust because he was a moody recluse. She very clearly didn't need his assistance. If anything, he was in need of some assistance from her.

A warm hand suddenly clamped down on her mesh covered shoulder. She growled, turning to face the offender with bared teeth. Jasper's blue eyed expression displayed fear momentarily before returning to steadfast anger. "You do realise everyone can see those," he hissed, referring to her ivory weaponry.

"It's Halloween, Jasper. I've seen, like, forty Vampires tonight."

"Well, you're about to see seven more. I called Alice. The Cullens aren't thrilled with your Houdini act," Jasper said, checking his watch. "They'll be here soon."

"Jasper, why are you such a square?" Bella asked, her tone sarcastic and pouty. "I'm just trying to have fun with my friends. You didn't seem to have a problem last time we played here?"

Jasper scoffed. "You weren't a fuckin' bloodsucking murderer last time you played here."

"A few days ago you called me 'different?' Why the change of heart?"

The frontman of 'Mum' thanked the crowd for their patronage, effectively cutting off any chance Jasper had to respond. He introduced the Paper Dolls to a thunderous applause that seemed to last for an enternity.

"Bella, let's go tune up," Eric called. He passed off the borrowed bass guitar like a baton and bolted to the stage.

"Gotta give the people what they want," Bella smirked. She took her time approaching the stage, like a queen on her coronation day. The bass guitar was her crown, the microphone her scepter. She swung the leather guitar strap over her shoulders and plugged into a massive Fender bass cabinet. The movements were second nature; second only to her new primal Vampiric side. She played a few chords, finding it easy to tune the instrument with her precise hearing. The trio fell into a brisk jam session before Bella signaled for silence.

The lights dimmed and Bella stepped to the microphone. "Hello," she began, her voice sultry and commanding. "It's Halloween and this room is fucking Gigantic," she said, beginning to pluck the opening bass part for the 'Pixies' hit solo of the same name. The sea of moving bodies cried louder, but somehow Bella could only hear the familiar pounding of Edward's heartbeat, like a metronome in her subconscious. She wondered if the Cullens had arrived and if they planned to do anything to jeopardize the show.

All doubts disappeared; however, when Eric chimed in with a screeching guitar solo. Mike joined shortly after with his signature goofy grin and steady rock beat.

The set proved to be a critical success. Bella introduced each song with a smug grin and confidence only a seasoned performer could execute, while Eric continuously hinted at the famous 'Where is My Mind' riff to rile the crowd before playing expertly chosen deep cuts. Beer cans hit the walls and bits of costume pieces landed on stage. Shots were often passed forward from the bar, a fact Bella was mildly apprehensive about. The first shot had only made her feel like retching, But the expectation to partake hung in the air. The crowd chanted her name repeatedly until she managed to choke down exactly four ounces of whiskey. She instinctively knew the offensive liquid would have to be expelled immediately after the lights dimmed.

Before their final cover, the song everyone had patiently waited for, Bella took a minute to stare into the faceless mass of people. Something in her believed wholeheartedly this would be her final foray into the world of live music performance and she needed to lock this moment into memory for sanity's sake. She figured the Cullens had certainly arrived sometime during the thirty minute set. Vampires moved quickly. Edward would swoop in and take her to some undisclosed location, never to be heard from again. They'd hate her for eternity and she'd spend the rest of her endless days gallivanting the earth with no passion to speak off.

She felt her chest tighten, grief dripped from every word she spoke. "I love you, Seattle. Until we meet again." Bella Swan, garage punk icon, began her swan song.