A/N: Okay, I'm not a mean spirited person... you're probably wanting to know how things turn out, right? Okay, here you go...

Musical Inspiration: Rose - Titanic Soundtrack

Chapter 6 – Get Out

EPOV

She could only gasp until I loosened my grip on her throat.

"Bella…' she sobbed, "My name is Bella… I didn't mean any harm; I just wanted to look around."

I loosened her out of pity, such a frightened and remorseful creature I had seen only a few times in my life. I knew I should still be angry, but I wasn't sure if at the time that it was grief or real anger fueling my outburst.

Though I let my hand fall from her neck, I did not relax my position before her. I looked her over quickly and realized she was wearing my mother's clothes.

"What are you wearing, Bella?" I asked… I pleaded inwardly with her not to lie to me… I did not want the anger to resurface full force.

"I found these, in the master bedroom… I know I shouldn't have, but… I just…" she turned a brilliant shade of crimson. It was then that I noticed I could not hear her thoughts as I so easily heard every other human and vampire I had ever encountered.

Her blush revealed her embarrassment of the situation. The blood rushing to her cheeks made my throat burn. I had to get her out of here, quick.

"Come with me." I hissed. My temper had relaxed a little, but she did not have to know it.

I began walking out of the room and down to the second floor as fast as a human pace would allow. I could hear her footsteps, hesitantly following me at a distance.

I reached my mother's room and stood outside the door. "I'm going to give you a few minutes to change and put things back just as you found them, touch nothing else."

I watched her timidly enter the room and pick up her clothes from the wardrobe floor. I gave her a warning glance before shutting the door to wait. I silently padded down to the front door at vampire speed and unlocked it before returning to my waiting position outside the door.

There would be no slinking out the back for her; she would have to exit through the front door.

After a few moments, all of which I could hear every little move from my position, she was standing at the foot of my mother's bed waiting, probably looking expectantly toward the closed door, wondering if I were still behind it.

I opened it to find her just as I expected. Fear still filled her delicate features. I had not noticed how beautiful she was before. Blinded by rage, she was just an intruder to me. Now I saw she had such a slight, small frame. Her long brown hair, taken down from her head now flowed over her shoulders in soft waves. Her large brown eyes, deep and delicious, still held traces of the terror I had put into them.

"The front door is unlocked. You may leave now, and go home, wherever that may be. But when you get there do not forget; never forget how very close you came to breathing your last this day. Goodbye."

With that I turned and went up to my room. I watched her leave from my bedroom window and to my great surprise she walked only as far as the house directly across the street, unlocked the front door and went inside.

Even from my vantage point I could hear the muffled sounds of her moving about in her own house. She appeared at the second story bay window, moving the curtains only slightly, peering up at my room. I knew that she could not see me from here, but momentarily I wished that she could.

Not to terrorize her further. No, I had no idea why I wanted her to see me again. I had nearly scared the life out of her, and now I wanted her to see me? Why? I shook my head, trying to clear it.

I wasn't thinking clearly. Surely my mood was grief induced and off kilter because of my dreading of tomorrows services.

BPOV

My hands were shaking as I unlocked my own front door. Surely he could see me from his house. That must be the relative; Mr. Cullen.

I walked in and waited until I reached the safety of my own room before lightly pulling back the lace curtains and glancing across the street. There was no sign of the ferocious owner of my beautiful Grand Lady. I could no longer call her mine; I had been thrown out. Even more humiliating was that I had been caught at my private little game.

What was it he had said? "How close I had come to breathing my last?" What did that mean? Was he about to kill me for intruding? I had heard of such cases before, but perhaps my age and gender kept him from such a foul act.

I shivered as I thought of it and I replaced my bedroom curtain walking slowly to sit on my bed.

I took from my pocket the little slip of paper that I had retrieved as I walked out the door. I wondered when I had dropped it on my photo expedition during the day, but could not remember.

Photos! Oh, no!

I had left my camera in the third floor bedroom!

My heart sank at the thought of having to go back and retrieve it. I unfolded the piece of paper in my hand. To my shock and surprise it was not one of my shopping lists, library book call numbers or important email addresses.

It was him! The man from today, Mr. Cullen!

The photo was sepia colored and old; the man in it was dressed as if he were part of another time entirely. This photo must belong in 112. My heart began to race, I had stolen something!

True it was unintentional, but after seeing Mr. Cullen's reaction at my intrusion alone, I dared not think what might happen if he noticed the photograph missing!

I turned the photo over and over wondering what to do. As I did a small piece of paper, which looked as if it were glued onto the back of the photo long ago, began to loosen and eventually peeled off.

There was writing underneath in beautiful penmanship. It read, 'Edward Anthony Masen, Jr. – July, 1918' – this must be the doctor's son!

I turned it back over and studied the face in the photograph. So handsome, but yet, I must have been mistaken. Though the likeness was incredible, the madman who'd nearly taken my life that day was certainly more beautiful than this boy I sat gazing at. Not much older, perhaps, but far more beautiful.

I set the photograph on my dresser and went to take a long shower. Next I would email Angela – she would be the only person I would tell about today's events… and I was only telling her so that if I turned up decapitated in a ditch somewhere because of the stupid photo, at least one person would know where to start pointing the finger.

EPOV

As I turned away from the window, she had long since stopped peering out of her own; I noticed a small silver object on the top of my bureau. I walked over to collect it; A digital camera, obviously hers.

I turned it over in my hand and turned it on. As I scrolled through the photographs taken I saw the bold beauty that had left her enchanting aroma all over my childhood home. The most recent were first and I noted in particular the photographs of her in costume all over the house.

There was the one on my bed, in the living room, the library holding a book, at the dining room table, in the kitchen, and at my mother's bedroom window. She looked so natural in my mother's dress, as if it had been made for her when in actuality it had been tailored precisely to my mother's measurements.

It had been her wedding gown.

I looked through the other pictures, mostly of this Bella and friends of hers. Something in the pictures was familiar, though I was sure that I had never seen these children before in my life. I kept scrolling through them until I realized what about them looked so eerily familiar.

In one picture was the friend that was in many of Bella's pictures, a girl with dark hair and glasses, standing in front of the high school in Forks, Washington.

What connection could this girl have to my family's one time and soon to be present home?

I decided I would find out tomorrow, after the funeral.

~*~

The next day the services went beautifully. Only a handful of people attended, mostly staff from the nursing home, old friends of her husband's and of course the funeral director and his staff. Completed by noon, and forecast to be another unusually cloudy day, I stayed with Willow's body until it was interred and even then for a while after.

Sleepless in the night as all vampires are, I had discovered why I was so enraged at Bella's intrusion yesterday and why despite my rage I had so longed to see her again. As I went through the house, all I could smell was her scent.

My mouth watered, my throat burned, and both only at the remainder of her unique bouquet. She was a singer; my singer. Her blood sung to me and I wanted it like nothing else in the world; the pull was stronger than that of the earth to the moon.

It had been my intense grief and the small amount of blood that an old woman contained alone that had stayed my teeth from her throat, and only barely at that. My mind, jumbled with the mournful passing of my childhood sweetheart, and at my hands no less, was enough to confuse my senses long enough for her to get out of the house.

I had only ever encountered one other singer in my lifetime and it had not ended well.

It was during my rebellious period and it just so happened that the singer in question was also a very evil man. I saw in his mind what he had done and what he planned to do, and according to my god complex at the time, I had thought myself the appropriate deliverer of his doom.

Miss Bella did not know how very lucky she was indeed to have escaped my hands. Now that I knew what she was to me, I made certain to hunt after I left the services. I still had a camera to deliver back to her, and did not want to be tempted beyond my breaking point for a second time.

I pulled into her driveway at half past three in the afternoon. I toyed with her camera in my hands as I walked toward her front door, the butterflies from the day I had reunited with Willow returned full force.

I gently pushed the door bell with my finger, half praying that she would not be home and that I could leave the camera with a note on her front step. I heard footsteps, so I was not going to be that lucky today – I only hoped that she would.

Surprise and a little fear registered on her face as she opened the door. I tried to smile as best I could while also trying not to breathe. "You left your camera, yesterday. I am returning it to you."

She nodded, hesitant to reach out and claim it. I could not blame her. I had been quiet a spectacle the day before.

"Come in, Mr. Cullen – I have something for you too… I have to go get it; I'll just be a minute." She said quietly, and turned to rush up the stairs.

I stepped inside enough to be polite, but wary enough not to close the door completely behind me; if there were a chance of someone hearing her scream, I would be less likely to murder her in a passionate feeding frenzy.

I took the opportunity of her absence to take a large breath. That was a mistake; her scent absolutely covered everything in this house; it was torture, but the large hunt I had taken in only an hour before seemed to take the edge off.

She returned and I tried to take tiny breaths in her presence to acclimate myself to her scent. After all, I had gone all night smelling her in my house, and I had been only inches from her yesterday and had not given in to my true nature.

She returned with a small piece of paper in her hand and held it out to me from a distance. I chuckled inwardly at her space of air between us, though again, could not blame her.

"I found this on the floor yesterday as I was leaving, I didn't steal it, I promise… I thought I had dropped it earlier in the day. It was only after I had gotten home that I realized what it was." She said quickly, as if to deter my impending wrath.

I took it from her and opened it; the frown that crossed my face must have startled her, because she began spouting out promises.

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust me because of my coming into your house like that, but I swear I didn't take that… it was on the floor, I swear." She said, and took another breath to begin her defense once more, but I cut her off.

"I know you didn't take it – it was in my pocket yesterday, it must have fallen out." I looked up at her, "You called me Mr. Cullen – How did you know my name?" I asked, my eyes searching her face as I waited for her answer.

I was not used to being kept waiting for such things; being able to read minds can spoil a person, but I was neither annoyed nor upset by her pause of silence, only curious.

She blushed several different shades of red before settling into a deep crimson.

"I researched the house at the library. The most current documents stated that the present owner was an E. Cullen. The librarian said that the house had not been visited for years… as long as she could remember. I just figured you must be E. Cullen… though I did expect someone a bit older."

"I am E. Cullen, in fact, and yes, I own the house and I'm not as young as I look." I said, hoping to defer her attention away from the subject of the photograph.

She was silent for a moment, so to dispel the awkwardness of the situation I decided to further draw her attention from the picture.

"I'm sorry for my outburst yesterday, it was uncalled for. I have no excuse, of course, but I had just lost a long time friend. That's why I didn't come by sooner; I was at the funeral." I said, glancing up at her as I spoke, trying to gauge her reaction.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Cullen. That's awful news; I would have reacted the same way, I'm sure. Please don't apologize – I was the one in the wrong, I shouldn't have been trespassing in your home." She said quickly.

"Well, it isn't my home, just a house I own, now." I said now able to breathe, though her blood still flowed in a tantalizing river through her veins; I might be on my best behavior, but I had not forgotten my vice – far from it.

"Why don't you sit down? Are you thirsty, could I get you a drink? Your choice; we have everything." She said.

I chuckled at the irony, but replied, "No, thank you about the drink – I'm fine. I will sit down for a moment, though. I noticed your photographs were of Forks, Washington. How often do you travel there?"

We sat simultaneously on the large green sofa, she on one side, and I on the other. She still felt an obligation to keep a distance from me and for that I applauded her. Perhaps she was not as bold as I had thought. That was a relief.

"Oh, Forks, yeah, um… I used to live there. We moved here only recently, my dad was the police chief there and he got a better offer here. It wasn't an easy decision, but of course, better pay and a better school system made up his mind, though I would have encouraged otherwise."

"So you prefer Forks?" I asked, trying to imagine anyone preferring such a damp place.

"Well, I didn't at first; I moved there from Arizona when my mother died. I was like nine and at first I hated Forks, but then I met Angela and we have been connected at the hip… until I moved here." She said, her head hanging slightly.

Obviously it was still a tender subject for her. I was just about to say so when she caught me off guard.

"The Masen boy, the one in the picture, you favor him. Are you closely related?" She asked, of all questions.

"Um, no, Not at all." I lied. Apparently I should have thought that answer out a little longer because she replied with;

"Wow, your family must have strong genes then. You're nearly identical." She smiled.

"I think I should be going. Please, you have my sincerest apologies and… feel free to explore the house at your leisure. The back door will remain unlocked, I do not expect to come back this way again, so as long as you don't damage anything, you're welcome to come over as often as you like." I said quickly and as sincerely as possible as I rose to leave.

"Oh, I couldn't…" she began, but I interrupted her.

"No, Bella, please, I was acting the fool yesterday, I was hurt by the death of my friend. You care for the house; it deserves someone who loves it to look after it." I replied as I moved toward the door.

This girl had me wanting to lean into her, to smell her hair, to touch her hand… obviously it was the grief and blood lust talking. I had to get away from here now, before I let myself give in… to what, I'm not sure exactly, but neither would have had a good outcome.

"And, please, keep the photograph; it's of no use to me now." I said as I handed it back to her and walked out her front door and hopefully out of her life.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

I nodded. It was time to let the past be the past.

"You were beautiful, by the way." I said. She frowned.

"Yesterday, in my mother's dress, you looked lovely in it. Farewell, sweet Bella." And with that I turned, stepped into my Volvo and drove away, never to see that beautiful heart-shaped face again.

BPOV

I watched as he drove off down the street. My emotions were all over the place, I was thrilled that he had basically given me the keys to the mansion, I was afraid that I'd never see him again and yet I felt relieved and another emotion I could not quite put my finger on.

I needed to email Angela.

A/N: Hopefully this one's not too bad of a cliffie! Please review!