What Speaks in Darkness Chapter 3: Darker than the Woods, a twilight fanfic

~/\~

~x~

Chapter 2

Halloween.

It's almost some sort of joke at this point. It amazes me, really – the way that society has welcomed a night that once was completely dark and pagan and turned it into a holiday to be celebrated. A night where people allow themselves to dress up, masking themselves, and embracing their darker nature, submerging themselves in the shadows of their sub-conscious where they want and feel and need to do the things that they would normally never do.

They want to feel the thrill of fear as it licks across their skin, dancing along the length of their spine as it tingles with trepidation.

They seek it out because on this night – this dark and scary night – it's permissible to want it.

And it doesn't matter that the fear they seek is nothing more than a weak and anemic version of what's real. The real fear that they would suffer…if they knew.

But they don't.

They don't know.

They don't hear.

And they don't see what is real all around them…lying and waiting in the darkness.

I was real.

I was there.

And I was watching.

~x~

I could see her there, standing on the porch to the old house. She looked quiet, contemplative.

She was still…Jesus, she was still so fucking beautiful.

And I – I was still desperate to know – to discern and understand her thoughts.

Even then, even as I hid in the deeper dark of the night because I recognized that she should be afraid – I stood and watched. Forcing everything else away from my mind, I watched and I listened to ghosting of her breath…to the pulsing of her heart. I listened to those things because she was not speaking and because, for the first time, I could not hear the thoughts of another person.

She was slight and pale with translucent skin and silky chestnut hair that fell in thick waves around her shoulders. Her chocolate eyes – that mindlessly gazed into the woods – looked deeper and darker than the night that surrounded us. Her lips were full and looked soft and I couldn't help but take notice as she bit down, pulling the lower flesh between her teeth. And in that moment – that perfectly unsettling moment – something inside me twitched. Something lost long ago. A part of me that had been dormant and silent and sleeping for so long.

There was something about her – besides her mind – that was completely mysterious to me. Something that I couldn't grasp, even if I'd been able to touch her. But I couldn't. So, I stood there, silent and unmoving, imitating her position and watching her. She looked so sad and alone and the part of me that was still living wanted to go to her, wanted to touch her face and pull the lip that she was tormenting from her mouth.

It was then that a man joined her on the porch. He stood behind her, watching her, much in the same manner as me. His thoughts were a muddled combination of need and want, of unfulfilled and almost desperate yearning. I listened closer; irritated by the fact that I had to, aggravated and frustrated that I wanted to. I wanted to hear her name. I could see that his eyes corresponded with his thoughts…in the way he looked at her. It was evident and unmistakable on his face and in his mind. And the look in his eyes shocked me as I recognized it – his thoughts crystallized as he drew closer.

Desire and lust and images of him taking her. He wanted her but I could tell from his thoughts that he didn't know her body. He'd never had her that way. The images he conjured were clouded, hazy. No, he didn't understand her that way...but he wanted to.

Did she?

Did she want him to take her like that?

Absurdly and acutely, the idea of that filled me with a rage I'd seldom felt. I'd felt anger, but nothing like this. Never like this. This was different. This was coming from a place inside me that I'd never allowed myself to go. A place that was deeper and darker than the woods that I was standing in.

She could not belong to him.

She didn't.

She fucking couldn't.

It wasn't just an observation, it was an overwhelming and powerful realization that I had been looking at her the exact same way. And it would have rendered me breathless, if I had been breathing…but I wasn't. And with that realization, my hands that were hanging at my sides, clenched and flexed into fists that strained with the anger and frustration of the damnation of my existence.

I was everything that was cold and death and terrifying.

She was everything that was warm and soft and beautiful.

And even if she was sad and lonely, she was living.

And I…I was not a part of that world.

Her world.

I was torn from my thoughts as I heard the man move. My eyes shot over to him as I watched him slowly approach her. He was nervous, his thoughts giving him away. He was tall – taller than even me – the size of his body overwhelming her slender and delicate form. And as he wrapped his arms around her waist, enveloping her in a tender embrace, the pain that I felt in my own clenched hands was nothing compared to the sudden and concentrated pain that I felt in my chest.

I didn't understand what was happening…why I felt that way. I didn't know this woman. In fact, what I had gathered from the scene playing out before me was more knowledge than I had acquired since the first time I saw her. But I couldn't think about that as I heard the sound of the man's voice whispering in her ear about needing to be warm.

Fuck.

Just another thing.

She told him she wasn't cold and I could read by her body language that she wasn't comfortable. Her point made even more clearly as she pulled herself from his embrace. I don't know why, but I wanted her out of his arms. I didn't want him touching her. He spoke about protection from monsters in the woods and the breath that I didn't need caught in my tight and constricted throat. I swallowed convulsively, trying to push back the underserved longing I felt for this woman that I didn't know and the subsequent anger I was experiencing that another man could touch her.

And I couldn't.

I was the monster in the woods.

She needed protection from me.

She chided with him, but I could tell from the look on her face and the tone of her voice she was uncomfortable. He told her that she wanted him, but she didn't.

He wanted her.

He'd always wanted her.

Images flashed through his mind, his thoughts were unclear and clouded with guilt. He whispered words to her about "them." Only, I couldn't tell who they were. Her reaction pained me as I watched her. He face fell and her eyes watered – and even though I could tell from his thoughts that he didn't mean to hurt her – I fucking wanted to hurt him for ever causing that look to cross her face.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

This woman was of no consequence to me.

But I was still there…watching her…trying to understand her.

And then he said her name as he apologized.

Bella.

Fucking beautiful.

Just like her.

I wanted to say her name – to say it out loud. But before I could, I saw the fury on her face. She was angry and her bitter words reflected the ire in eyes, but she turned and went inside and I was left still wondering why I cared.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

And with those thoughts, I was gone.

As fast as my feet could carry me, I fled deeper into the woods. I didn't understand what was wrong with me. I could not afford to care about this woman. Who was she to me?

No one.

She was nothing.

Even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie. It was me. I was the one who was nothing. I was worse than nothing. As I ran, I tried to get the images of her out of my mind. But I couldn't. She was there…she had been there since the first time I saw her coming out of the bar.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

It was late or early, depending on how you looked at it. I didn't expect anyone to be out that time of night, but there she was. I wondered if she had heard me, but it became apparent that she hadn't. There was no fear coming from her at all. I watched her as she locked the door and wondered why she was alone. It was a small town, but fuck, she shouldn't have been alone like that. I was so caught up in my own internal questioning that I didn't realize that I couldn't hear her.

I listened closer.

Still, there was nothing. Just the sound of her feet against the pavement. In all of my years, this had never happened. There had never been anyone that I couldn't read…couldn't hear.

And I couldn't hear her.

Why the fuck couldn't I hear her?

She looked down at her feet as she walked, never once looking up until she reached this red, behemoth truck. She looked around as if she were making sure she were alone and in that moment – the moment I saw her face as I stood in the shadows of the dimly lit street – my entire world stopped.

It didn't matter that I couldn't hear her.

I could only be thankful that I saw her.

~x~

That was the first night I followed her home.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Seven nights. It had been seven nights of repeating the same pattern. I couldn't continue to do this…couldn't continue to allow this fascination. I knew it, but as I found myself on the edge of her yard again, I also knew that I was a failure.

There were no sounds coming from the house at all – none from the man and none from the other women that had been there. I couldn't hear anything…especially not Bella.

Bella.

There were candles burning on the porch and I wondered if she'd fallen asleep. I considered risking it and going over to blow them out, but before I could decide, she walked back onto the porch and stood before a table. She was looking at a board…a Ouija Board. And blanketed in candlelight, she shocked me by sitting down at the table.

Placing her visibly trembling fingers on the wooden piece, she began to whisper. The sound of her voice was haunting and even though she was speaking, her timbre was musical, evocative.

"So, I'm not even going to try to be formal here. I don't know if any of this is real, but…but I'd like to believe it is," she said, the casualty of her words not masking the meaningful tone.

Was she really attempting to communicate with someone?

A spirit?

Someone who was not living?

"I'd like to think that there was a chance that I could talk to…them again. I never…I mean…I didn't."

There was an evident sorrow on her face, her vulnerability yielding a kind of beauty I had yet to see from her.

But she didn't say who they were and why…why would she want to talk to them?

"You know you always think that you'll have time. I'm guessing that if you really are dead…I mean gone, you'd know that. I'm sure that you thought you'd have more time. I'm sure that there were people that loved you the way that I loved them. Even though I never got to…"

Her words were so simple and earnest, though tremendously pained. And they affected me so profoundly because the part of me that still felt human recognized her loss.

I hadn't thought of the people I'd loved…the ones who'd loved me in so very long. The years of isolation and my own personal damnation had robbed me of their memory. Feelings of grief that I never allowed myself were momentarily piercing and the wind circled and blew, causing the leaves to pour down around me. It was as if they were crying the tears that I no longer could.

In that moment, something happened. The energy around her shifted and she was tense and looked afraid. She sat there silent and waiting and staring at the board.

Had it moved?

"I must be crazy now," her trembling voice whispered. "That didn't really happen. Did it? I'm just tired and lonely and missing them so fucking much."

I stared at her as she looked at the board, willing her to tell me who it was she missed and why…why she was so lonely.

Her expression was so concentrated, her entire being seem absorbed in the board.

And I stood in complete and total disbelief as the wood pushed across the surface. I could not see where it landed – only knew that it stopped. My eyes shot to her face and I wondered…was someone communicating with her?

The rapid beating of her heart was the only indication that she was still breathing.

She wasn't afraid, but instead looked completely spellbound by what was taking place.

"Hello," she said; her voice quiet yet determined. "Are you talking to me now?"

And I wanted to talk to her…was desperate to talk to her.

The wood moved again and I heard her deep intake of breath. Her body was trembling, but the astonishing thing was that mine was too.

It wasn't possible.

It couldn't be possible.

"Fuck," she whispered. "Am I losing my mind?"

And she wasn't…I knew she fucking wasn't. I was a witness to this – this thing that was happening. And thought I didn't understand how, I knew that it was.

Could she hear me?

My thoughts?

None of it made sense. I wasn't a spirit, though I was certainly dead.

"I really am losing my mind, aren't I?" she asked…but was she asking me?

I focused on her, on her question…and no.

No, Bella.

I was there and no…I knew that this was happening.

"No," I murmured softly. "No, no, no, no."

And then it happened again – the wood fucking moved and my eyes were as focused as hers until the movement stopped.

She could hear me.

"I don't know you, do I?" she asked; her questioning voice calm.

No, she didn't know me.

She didn't know me and I…I wanted her to. And even though I knew she shouldn't want to know me…wouldn't want to know me if she knew who I really was. I couldn't stop myself from wanting her to.

"I feel crazy," she said. "I guess I just thought I should say that out loud or something. I mean, you have to admit that you would find this crazy. I mean…well, I mean if you were still living."

She took in a deep and shuddering breath. Her expression seemed remorseful, though I couldn't understand what she would have to feel sorry about. I was the one who should feel sorry, but all I could think about was the fact that this – this insane and amazing thing – was actually happening.

She could really hear me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she started rambling. I listened to every word as the sound of her voice filled ears and warmed my body. "I didn't mean that. I'm just a little freaked out that I'm either talking to myself or talking to someone that's…well, that's not really here. You can imagine how either scenario wouldn't really work to my favor. And I'm scared – not of you – well, maybe a little of you. But mostly I'm scared that I don't understand what's happening. Are you hurting? Is that why you're still here?"

No, I'm not hurting. Not physically.

I was here because I had no choice. That decision had been taken from me so long before.

"You're not hurting," she said, and though it sounded like a question…I was aware that she knew the answer.

"I'm Bella," she said softly. "Did you know that? Do you know me?"

I want to know you. I've watched you…but I don't. I don't really know you at all.

"Are you a woman?" she asked.

No.

"You're a man?" she asked, her voice so soft and quiet, but sounding so loud in my ears.

Yes, Bella.

I'm a man.

Yes, yes, yes.

She stared at the board and I knew that she was waiting. Fuck, I was waiting to see…to see if it moved.

And then…then it did.

"You're a man," she whispered. "What is your name?"

This was the test….this was the one question that she could have asked to ensure that this was actually happening.

My name.

Would it tell her my name?

Could I tell her my name?

Edward.

I focused on my name, willing her to hear…to know.

And then I watched as the wood began to move.

It stopped and I heard her voice speak my name. And even though it was a question…I was obliterated by the truth that she knew.

She fucking knew.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

She sat there in the dark after she whispered my name and I still couldn't get the sound of it out of my mind. I had never longed to hear someone say my name like that. I had willed it to happen. I hoped for it and the feeling of that - of hope - when I hadn't experienced that feeling in so damn long that I scarcely recognized it, completely annihilated me. It fucking broke and buoyed me at the same time. Who was I to hope? Who was I to want anything from this soft and beautiful creature with the broken heart and the wounded spirit?

Nothing.

I was nothing and no one.

She should have been scared. She should never have sat down at that board. And yet, there she was, still sitting there in the darkness. And though she was no longer speaking, the rapid beating of her heart and the shallow intake of her breath said so much. She was scared. Fuck, she was probably terrified. Why wasn't she moving?

I could still see her so clearly even though there was no light around. Her trembling hands still placed on the board. Her eyes were closed and I could almost feel the biting sting of her teeth against her plump and swollen bottom lip. The silence of her mind was a blessing and a curse. For all the times I'd longed for quiet, for peace from the eternal and inane chatter, I needed, was utterly desperate to know what she was thinking.

Was she scared of me?

Terrified?

She should have been.

Slowly, she took her small hands from the board. Quietly, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them close to her body. Her eyes opened and she stared out into the night. She gazed in my direction and it was almost as if she were looking at me. I knew that was impossible, but a part of me wondered if she could feel me. Could she feel me the way I could feel her? There wasn't a part of me that questioned the thought that even if I couldn't see her, I would still feel her. He voice, the beat of her heart, everything. It all called to me. And I couldn't understand any of it.

"Edward," I heard her whisper, the sound of my name on her lips again pulling me from my confused and rampant thoughts.

"Bella," I whispered back so quietly that she would never have heard it even if she had been right next to me. But I wanted to hear the sound of her name form on my lips. "Bella."

Her name...just the sound of her name in my ears...from my voice, it warmed me. The sensation both comforting and unsettling. I had no warmth. Just cold and death and an emptiness so hollow that I'd been lost in it. For so long, I'd been alone. I'd wanted it that way. It was my choice - my decision - for there had been no other way. I'd had no home, no place to lay my head. I didn't need it. Especially that.

Unexpectedly a sound tore through my thoughts, cracking open my chest and tearing at my heart.

Her tears.

She was crying...sobbing so softly that no human would be able to hear it. But it screamed at me! The sound of her tears saturating the denim that covered her legs was more painful than nearly anything I'd ever experienced.

Nearly.

But nothing could ever compare that pain. And I didn't understand how this person - this woman - how the sound of her crying could affect me so profoundly.

All I knew was that it did.

My mind fought against every cell of my being that wanted to go to her, to comfort her. There was no comfort in my arms, no warmth in my black heart. I would not be comfort. She would fear me and see me for what I really was - the monster lurking in the woods that she needed protection from. No, I could not go to her because it will kill me a little more to see that fear in her eyes. To see her tremble, terrified that I might touch her. Fuck! Why did I want to touch her?

She choked back a sob, drawing in a deep breath, but I could still hear the sound of her silent tears as they trickled down her cheeks. I could still see the trail of wet that lingered on her skin. She looked out into the night one more time and then with no warning, she was up and she was gone.

I heard the slam of the door as it closed behind her. I waited for the light that should have come from inside her house. I waited, but it never came. Against my better judgment, my feet carried me closer to the house. The depraved need I had to know what she was doing...if she was okay, motivating my action. I listened as the sound her soles carried her up the stairs. Why was she walking in the dark when she could trip and hurt herself?

I listened even closer and could hear the sound of her heart in a room at the front of the house upstairs. I couldn't make out exactly what she was doing, but I heard the muted sound of moving fabric. An image of her taking off her clothes filled my mind and I sucked in an unneeded breath as that image caused my cock to twitch. Fuck. I pushed back the feeling - the unexpected surge of desire that I thought I'd never feel again - cursing myself and what I was. I was nothing better than a sick, fucking peeping tom. I was disgusting and my mind was revealing me to be exactly what I knew she needed to fear.

It was then that I heard the creak of the window as the pane was pushed up and I could see her fleeting form in the moonlight before she backed away. She slept with the window open. This revelation excited and infuriated me. She was alone. There was no one else with her in the old house. It wasn't safe, but she seemed to have no fear. She was an enigma in more ways that I could fathom. The inability to hear her thoughts frustrated me even more. If only I could know what she was thinking. Maybe...maybe I could understand.

But I couldn't.

I realized that in my need to be closer to her and hear what she was doing, I was carelessly standing in the open space of her yard. Even though it was still in the early hours of the morning and there were no thoughts to be heard, it was still stupid of me to be there. My lack of control should have been concerning, but it wasn't. Instead, I drew myself closer to the house, standing behind the large tree in front of her open window. I didn't want to leave.

I simply wanted.

I could hear her as she settled into bed – could hear the soft creaking of the mattress and the shifting of the linens. I focused in on the slowing pace of her breath and the declining rate of her heart. She was tired and I knew that sleep would take her soon.

As I stood there listening, it amazed and bewildered me that as her body calmed and rested, my body did the same. I felt more relaxed, more at peace. I quickly scoffed at the thought that I could have...would even be allowed to understand what peace really was. I was not permitted peace. I had been sentenced so very long ago to an existence of aimless and pointless wandering. Still, I could not deny the sense of comfort that I felt knowing that this woman was resting in her bed and safe.

Only she wasn't safe.

How could she be with me there?

She was open and vulnerable, unprotected and unaware of what waited in the dark.

And what waited, wanting in the darkness…was me.

It wasn't long before her slow, shallow breaths deepened and I knew she was asleep. I should have left, but I couldn't. And I knew that what I was about to do was going to make me even more despicable than I already was, but I couldn't stop myself...had no inclination or desire to do what was right. I just needed to see her, to gaze upon her face when I knew that she wouldn't fear me, to see the delicate lines and curves of her body. I knew that once I did that, my need would be sated and I could walk away.

I would have to walk away.

There was just one problem – she was human. I was practiced and had not taken, had not marred or devoured in so long - but even though that was the truth, I couldn't be sure. Would it be irresistible to me the way that she seemed to be irresistible to me? Would it call to me like a siren? Would it awaken that part of me that I'd beaten and starved into submission?

I didn't know.

I was terrified of the answer.

And still - still I did not stop.

By making this choice, I knew that my need, my probing and selfish want would win. And the thought that her life would be of such little consequence to me didn't matter. A surge of arrogance coursed through me. I could do this - this unspeakable thing - and I would not hurt her.

I simply wouldn't.

At first, I considered climbing the tree and entering her bedroom through the open window. And then I reconsidered. She slept with the window open and I wondered...would she have locked the door? My instinct told me no. She seemed to be so infuriatingly unconcerned with her own safety. So, quickly and quietly, I entered her porch and just like I anticipated, found the door gloriously unlocked.

I let myself in and standing there in the space of her home, I found that what I knew was unacceptable had become consciously permissible to me. I didn't care that I was violating her space. I breathed in deeply, testing myself.

And I was fine.

I took in my surroundings - her surroundings - and found her home to be simple, plain. It was the antithesis of everything that she had shown herself to be. There was nothing simple and plain about her that I could tell. She was complex and with my inability to hear her thoughts, I was consumed with wanting to know what she was thinking.

What made her happy?

Why did she cry?

It was the crying that killed me.

I had never wanted to know these things about anyone.

Anticipation filled me as I walked up the stairs. When I reached the top, I noticed that the door to her room was open, but the one directly across the hall was closed. Quietly, I pushed open the door and looked inside. I could smell the staleness and taste the dust that permeated the space. The bed was unmade and there was what appeared to be a man's suit draped across the foot. It was a bedroom that looked lived in, but I could tell that it wasn't. There had been nothing, no activity, no life inside the space of the four walls for a very long time. And I'm not sure, but there was something about the room that made me uncomfortable...I shouldn't have been there. I shut the door quickly.

Three steps.

Three small steps was all it took for me to be in the room where she was. Biting down on my own hand, I braced myself as I breathed in deeply through my nose. I still not suffer the appeal of her blood. The fragrance in the room was warm and sweet, feminine and musk...and nothing, nothing else.

Fucking nothing.

Was that even possible? It wasn't. I knew it wasn't. Removing my hand, I took another breath and still...there was nothing. No copper and salt, no venom pooling as the thick, heady scent lured me to my prey.

Impossible.

She was entirely enticing in another way – a way that was long forgotten. Yet I found that it still lingered in my mind and my resuscitating body.

Focusing, I looked over to her on the bed that was pushed up against the wall in the corner by the window. My eyes took in the shape of her form under the blanket. She was completely covered and her body was facing the wall. She didn't even take up a fourth of the space the bed allowed her. And fuck, I couldn't see her face. I could only see the way her hair splayed across the pillow.

Her face.

I needed to see her face.

I walked to the foot of the bed to try to get a better look at her, but my view was still obstructed. I sighed in frustration without thinking and it sounded so loud to my own ears. I froze in the moment, afraid that I would wake her. She moved slightly, but she was still on her side and I still couldn't see her. There was a small wooden chest beside the bed. A hope chest. I moved as slowly as I could and sat down on it. I watched her, watched the rise and fall of her back as she slept. I wanted to feel sick, I knew that I should feel disgusted...but I didn't. I was not going to hurt her. I just wanted to watch her for a little while longer.

I didn't know how long I sat there. I kept myself occupied by counting the beats of her heart, for that was far better than allowing my mind to consider what it was that I was doing. She was sleeping so deeply and I wondered if she was dreaming…and if she dreamed, what did she dream of? Was it the man on the porch? No, I didn't think so. I willed her silent mind to speak. What was so different about her that I could not hear? Why was she special? I didn't know the answer to these questions. I only knew that she unconditionally was.

And then it happened.

Her entire body flexed and stretched. I could hear the pull of her muscles, the soft sigh that escaped her lips and then she was on her back. I looked at her, unashamed and completely awestruck because she was breathtaking. If I thought she was beautiful before, it was nothing – not anything – compared to her exquisite features up close. Her heart shaped face, the lashes that rested on her cheeks, her parted lips. Without even realizing, I leaned in closer. Closer to her…her beauty…her warmth.

My entire body was trembling with a need I didn't understand. My senses still filled with her fragrance that was intoxicating, though not torturous.

And then…

"Edward."

It was a whisper, but coming from her voice, it might as well have been a scream.

"Bella," I whispered back, quietly falling to my knees beside her.

She couldn't be dreaming about me…she didn't even fucking know me. She only knew what little information she had from the Ouija board. But still, there she was, sleeping and saying my name. It was my name on her lips.

That had to mean something.

It all had to mean something.

Didn't it?

I had to touch her…to know what she felt like. Her soft skin, her womanly curves. She was sleeping so soundly and I could just…I had to just…

Pulling myself up, I laid on the bed, careful not to move her. It was then that she shifted her body closer to mine – almost as if she were pulled to me like a magnet. I panicked for a moment, terrified that I had taken this too far…but even then, it didn't stop me.

Softly, and so, so gently…I wrapped my arms around her. She came willingly into my embrace. The heat of her body burning me even through the blanket and the layers of my clothes.

She was soft and I was hard.

It was wrong – but she – she was so fucking right.

I didn't deserve her warmth. I didn't deserve her sleeping trust. But holding her there in my arms was perfect. It was the most beautiful thing that I could ever remember experiencing.

It was everything I imagined happiness to feel like.

~x~

And though I knew it was fleeting, for once – for fucking once – I allowed myself to bask in it.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

A/N

Reviews are love.

Please leave me some.

Thank you for the overwhelming response to this story so far. I cannot begin to tell you how much it means to me – especially since this is such a different story for me to write. And now you know…there will be no scene in this fic where Edward makes love to Bella via Whoopie Goldberg.

Thanks and love and sloppy, wet kisses to my beta and soulmate, Marvar. Your honesty and feedback is so important. You make my words pretty. You really do keep me sane and you definitely keep me laughing. ilysfm! No really, I do.

Thanks to Caren (Nerac) for pre-reading and telling me what this chapter needed. You were right – you always are. That is all.

Thanks to rainamd for pre-reading and being a sounding board in general. You kick ass.

As always, I do not own the characters, but they sure the fuck own me.