"I'm a zombie," I slurred to a White Coat. She was dragging my sorry ass down the hall toward my oblivion. My limbs were not responding to reason. "I hunger for your brains."

"You're one sick cookie," she admonished, and I responded with my best shit-eating grin.

If Jake could be a wolfman and Edward a vampire, then I could certainly be a zombie.

"Why do you want to be a Zombie, darling?" she asked, setting me down on a stretcher.

"Zombies don't bleed," I explained. "Zombies are already dead."

-({})-

I saw two Edwards in front of me; my hallucinations were multiplying. The implications of this made me delirious with lust...or at least would have if I wasn't a fucking zombie!

"Hello, Edwards," I slurred.

"Hi, Bellas," he replied in kind.

I rubbed at my eyes until my double vision focused and cleared.

"I'm a zombie," I explained, trying to justify my slow reflexes and sudden hunger for brains.

"I'm a vampire."

"How the fuck do you keep getting in here?" I mean, seriously. We were in my room and I couldn't remember how I got here let alone how he did. Fucking Thorazine!

But I felt calm and delicious. Ah, I can't stay mad at you, Thorazine.

"Again...vampire. Preternatural speed and stealth."

"Don't forget all-around sexy bitch."

"Yes and of course, I am one sexy bitch." Edward's voice was thick with irony as he smiled sadly at me. He was wistful, and as his smile transformed into an expression of anguish, I felt myself growing impatient and disgusted.

All I could see was a wretched and pathetic shell of a man. What a waste, a snivelling pile of waste he was, to have unlimited power and freedom for naught. I was so over the brooding vampire persona. The self-loathing monster with a soul act had been done before, and done much better.

And then I got pissed. Well, as pissed as any zombie could be. "You know what? Fuck you! You just want me to go away so your fucking precious Bella Swan will return. Well, I have news for you, we're sharing this body and I'm not going anywhere."

Edward sighed and tried to pull me into his arms but I ducked him. I wanted to force some sort of passionate reaction out of him. "Bella's a whiny little slut." I spat and slapped him.

Fuck! Shit and fuck again! I broke my motherfucking hand!

As if that weren't enough, the bastard tried to cover my mouth to silence my screaming and I bit his finger, shattering my eye tooth. Howling ensued.

The White Coats were not fast enough to catch Edward before he flew into the closet.

"My hand," I sobbed, swallowing blood. "I want a shot of Demerol."

"Bella," a White Coat said, "You know an awful lot about pharmacology."

"Is that an accusation? My fucking hand is broken and I am not a drug seeker. Get me an X-Ray, asshole."

"We're not a narcotic delivery service. Why are you screaming?"

"I. Broke. My. Hand."

"How?"

"Shit, I don't know. I struck my hallucination in the face and the bones shattered. He's in the closet, if you don't believe me." I jumped out of bed to open the closet door but found myself restrained by the collar of my shirt. "Get out of the fucking closet, asshole, and fess up."

Edward did not open the door. Fucking coward!

A White Coat snickered meanly at my closet euphemism. I was without humor, though, wanting nothing but the sweet oblivion and release only an opiate could offer me in my present state.

"Get out of my room if you're not going to help me." It was fruitless to try to engage a White Coat. I'm not sure why I even bothered. Smug pieces of crap, they turned and left the room in order of rank, with the pageantry of marching soldiers.

I had been tonguing my Ativan for such an emergency, but before I could retrieve them from behind my plastic mirror, Edward decided to show his chicken-shit face again.

"You never should have come back. You should have left me in the woods to die."

"Please, Bella. Let me see your hand?"

"No, Edward. This is over. I don't love you."

"You don't mean that." Edward stated evenly. It wasn't an argument, it was a blatant denial of my words.

Rage flooded through me, bringing me back to life. I would destroy him.

"I loved you more then I knew I was capable of. But the girl you loved died the day you left. This bitch is what's left and she despises you, Edward. Everything about you except your body. So if you're not going to fuck me then you're absolutely useless to me. Get. Out."

"Please Bella, I know you don't mean this."

"Don't I? Look in my eyes, do you see anything other than hatred? You took everything from me. Left me alone to face Laurent and Victoria. I've been through hell and back again, Edward. Only now, hell is on earth and I am damned, trapped in this head. The only thing that your clean break succeeded in fracturing was my sanity. And do you know why the old Bella needed to create me? Because Isabella Flanagan is one mean bitch and she refuses to be hurt by you ever again. She will not forgive you."

Edward was shaking, his knees buckled beneath him and he slid down the wall onto the floor. This gave me cold satisfaction.

"I am Bella Swan and I do not love you. I don't feel anything for you but disgust."

-({})-

I resurfaced, fighting against the undertow of hate and despair that she created. "Stop Edward, don't leave me!" I sobbed. His face was a mask of pain and horror. "I don't have much time. Don't listen to her...I'll never stop loving you. Please don't leave me? I'll die. I die a little more every day when she takes over and I can't get her out of my head. But whatever she says, I love you. Never doubt that."

-({})-

Yeah, enough of that bullshit! You're not getting off that easy, asshole.

"I'm going to be kind to your girlfriend. I'm going to give her what she deserves, Edward. His name is Jacob Black...and trust me, he will not deny Bella anything at all. Bella's sweet little pussy is aching for his cock, which, by the way, is much bigger than yours."

Author's note: That was hitting below the belt! Reviews will bring another lemon. A very graphic one.

So, it seems I've developed a reputation for my "pussy word" fiction. Everyone should be infamous for something. My parents will be so proud that some twelve years later, I'm finally making use of my Creative Writing Degree. Hi Ma! Look, I'm writing about genitals.