You stagger hazily over flat earth towards the deserted house, blinking away your fear, your confusion, for how you wound up here you are thoroughly unsure. This is a place that, in the realms of reality, you avoid at all costs; however, your merciless subconscious forever has very different plans for you.
Your eyes examine the desolate space that's suffocating you, trying to gather some sense of reasoning, trying to capture any form of detail to make this place seem less lonely...but there is nothing for the house stands - neglected and alone - on an endless stretch of barren land.
You are trapped within emptiness, trapped because the only way out is through. There is absolutely nowhere to run, to seek cover, to hide. Like an artist sketching on a blank white page, you wait for objects to be added to this illusion - a setting sun, a budding shrub - something to make this a reality...but nothing arises, and the relentless void ensues.
A prevailing surge of dread creeps upon you, taking residence in your gut and twisting your innards spitefully. You do not want to go inside - you know what horrific entities lurk within. A dark, invisible force beckons you forward however, and you are powerless to fight its evil grasp... It always wins out, your suffering simply fuelling its perverse hunger.
Your feet continue forward, bearing the weight of the illusive iron chains grappling at your ankles; you feel their restraint, even though they cease to exist. Crumbling window shutters that clatter and tremble against the flaking white-washed wood of the exterior is the only sound that permeates through the gentle breeze, breaking the disturbing silence.
The front door flutters open, creaking on its rusty hinges in protest. Your hand grasps at air as the doorknob twists open under the purchase of a hand that is not yours. It's then that you spy a whisper of her as she ghosts up the spindled staircase, her mystical beauty enticing you to follow.
The ancient floorboards moan their disapproval beneath your heavy weight as you begin your descent in a wary pursuit of her, your movements stirring up heavy layers of dust that linger on every surface, their particles dancing around in the stream of light seeping in through the dingy windows.
You pause when your feet meet the last step; several closed doors in the midst of a hallway of memories meet your gaze. She has vanished, but intuition guides your path, as does the scent of her, which is overly sweet, much more so than that ingrained in the niche of your memories.
Your static body lingers at her bedroom door now, the breeze billowing from the crevice at the base tingles the skin at your calves and you shiver against its biting chill... You are cold. So cold.
You chest rises and falls with each maniacal battering beat of your heart, trepidation encasing you in its own impenetrable bubble, slamming you into a vicious wall of terror as you push the door agape and step cautiously through the coaxing threshold, into an endless inferno that applauds your presence.
You stumble into the foggy atmosphere with dilated eyes, tremors shaking your legs as you fathom your boundless surroundings, intoxicated by copious similarities...and equal differences. Her bedroom lies only in the midst of a house which has now dissolved into ashes, leaving in its wake a shadow of a place you know, for your forward path has now evolved and you are standing in the woods of La Push...but nothing is as it seems; The Lush forest that flourishes in its vibrant greenery has been replaced, in its stance is a mirage of barren trees, all precisely shaded with the pointed tip of a stick of artists charcoal, in varying hues of grey.
You wander, in a semi-comatose demeanour, through the wild labyrinth of tangled branches and dehydrated evergreens, each one pointing out the way forward with weary arms. Your footprints, embossed in the dusty terrain, would lead you back to safety if need be, but that sense of comfort doesn't last long, as, with the turbulent rainclouds that are drifting, hovering sombrely overhead, comes a brutal whirlwind, selfishly sweeping away your self-made trail, forfeiting your escape route.
You swallow against the desert that has taken root inside your mouth, your lips cracked with unquenched thirst. The air is too dry here, parched and void of any moisture...any life. Although, scarce cracks and stirrings that crunch through the fallen foliage that rests below suggests otherwise.
It seems as though you have journeyed for miles through this purgatory; however, you have barely gained any distance from your entry point. You are simply lost in a maze of isolation, unrelenting loneliness, and you beg for it to cease, the crippling effect of solitude bringing you to your knees as it abruptly refuses you even a hint of mercy.
It is then you hear, through the eager twitch of your ears, a frantic scurry of motion on the unending plain - which is distant, but growing ever closer. You rise back up cautiously, taking your place once more on the soles of your feet, the unsolved riddle of growing noise now sharing a piece of your deranged senses, because, barely yards from where you are standing, hanging tears of a weeping willow tree have strangely appeared, merging into the ashen horizon as if it always had been there.
Bewilderment lingers as the gathering of a wrathful storm commences; clamouring thunder crashes overhead, reverberating through the ground with every placement of your troubled footsteps; glowing white lightning bolts enthusiastically illuminate the blackened sky in a persistent battle of endurance.
The violent turmoil overhead diminishes as swiftly as it arrived, crisp torrents of rain descending in its bitter aftermath. You nudge your way between the drooping claws of the perishing willow with caution, until it is enveloping you beneath its voluminous canopy, shielding you from the unyielding deluge.
Angry quakes tremble through the clammy earth, a creepy mist rising from the ground, weaving through the knotted tree vines like a cunning serpent slithering towards its prey with glinting eyes.
The roaring shudders reach their dramatic apex; several pairs of frightened feral eyes meeting yours as they rush past you in a frenzied blur of hooves and fuzz. You swing your body around just in time to catch them scarpering away - a stampede of wild deer the cause of such commotion. It is as you watch them flee that you notice something...something that terrifies you so much more than the desolation and hollowness you have so far felt.
Your gasping intakes of breath rise and fall from your hammering chest, marring any withstanding lucidity, as bloodied hooves embed their cleft imprints in the ground, leaving the crimson heart of a ghastly massacre in their shadow.
You follow the frenzy of blood-spattered hoof prints with clammy palms and gathered sweat which beads like teardrops against your brow. Goosebumps rise on your forearms, the tiny peaks tingling amidst the bitterness of the wind chill which lashes against your shivering skin like jagged spires of ice.
Your abstracted wisdom leads you astray and you are wandering, stumbling around blindly as your innards twist and lurch, heaving against hollowness, fear...and an unmistakable stench of death.
Your noiseless scream becomes tangled in the back of your throat, refusing to make its bloodcurdling appearance as you are encompassed by a hideous blackness of demise, wading through the shallow pool of gore that coats your ankles with its rust-scented redness.
Bodies are strewn everywhere, a horrifying mass grave of men, women, children clustered together, unmoving, each one completely drained of life, the pallid color of death haunting your gaping eyes. Crescent shaped scars - purpley-black with bruising – a prominent detail on each of the discerning victim's necks.
You are immobile, stiffly fixed in place. Movement of your frozen limbs is impossible, scared to rouse the still forms which appear to be sleeping soundly at your feet. The absent rise and fall of their chests and rapid beating of a pulse at their necks the only indication of lives now ceased.
"I've been waiting for you, Jacob," a voice with a beautiful, rhythmic melody smoothes, tinkling like a chiming bell in your memory, although octaves higher. Your eyes follow the direction of the spoken harmony that has you enraptured, although, no more so than the sight you are now beholding.
There, in the centremost point of a small clearing, rests an imposing bed; four towering posts adorning the wooden-carved gargoyles positioned menacingly at each mahogany corner. White, semi-sheer drapes surround its frame and dance in the wind, reflecting the dark silhouette of a petite woman... A woman you know from the gentle waves of her hair and the sweetness of her giggle, as it penetrates your tender heart.
"Bells?" you whisper, your hand reaching out towards the distant outline of her figure - which is seated, cross legged in the middle of the vast mattress - desperate to feel the softness of the skin you remember so well. Silence ensues...but you know it's her, as you visit here every night...and you know her skin is no longer smooth like velvet and pliable beneath your hands.
A devilish hiss rips from between her teeth, eliciting a chilling scream in response. She laughs with a high chime and hushes the helpless victim she is now cradling in her arms, the sound of supple flesh tearing followed by greedy sloshing becoming all that is audible as the weak yelping wanes.
Splattered blood blemishes the light veils that obscure her, dripping and spilling out beneath their hem in a cascading, ruby waterfall until you are knee deep in a flowing red sea of floating corpses.
"Come here to me, Jacob," she purrs, her shadow beckoning you forward with a marble finger.
You want to be frightened...you should be petrified...you should want to run far, far away, back to the isolation you know is safety, but you are mesmerized by her angelic voice which is as smooth as butter and so alluring. It unconsciously snares you and pulls you forward, until you are drifting towards the most beatific peril.
Your fingers curl, one-by-one, around the wafting drapes, your body floating in its hypnotic state, your misted mind clouded by a soothing atmosphere of peace. You begin to slowly expose her to your gaze as you draw back the hindering veils, your heart thrashing away in your chest with unnaturally frenzied beats.
She kneels with a graceful poise on the bed before you, her unworldly beauty altogether bewitching: alabaster skin as pale as the moon, rolling tendrils of mahogany flecked hair contrasting against glittering eyes, aflame with the clarity of polished garnet; a perfectly refined portrayal of the girl who lives inside your soul, possessing your heart.
"I miss you, honey. Every day, I miss you," you murmur, wistful emotion ghosting around gentle whispers and silent tears that overflow and ache, pervading the peace.
Her taunting laugh unmasks two gleaming rows of razor-sharp venomous teeth that languidly ooze with the thick plasma of human blood, her high-pitched shrieks deepening with every pulse, unleashing an invisible demon as she crouches and stalks - on bare feet and hands deformed with clawed talons - towards you. "No, Jacob, you miss Bella," the deep voice booms, pounding against your sensitive eardrums. "And she doesn't exist."
Your head shakes back and forth as you hysterically repeat "No." The sound of your desperate outcries a mere echo amongst the repugnant evilness that mocks you for its sadistic amusement. Barbed claws maul your chest with deathly intent, her face contorting into that of a soulless monster with an insatiable thirst...as she lunges for your jugular.
You awake as you always do, every night, with gasping breaths, body upright, sweat coating your naked torso, re-living the aftermath of a nightmare that is all too real, too vivid in its ugly truth.
You sit on the edge of your bed, hands grasping hair upon a head that hangs low. The shadow of a love lost lingers over you, haunting you like a ghost, following you around no matter where you rest your head and rendering you incapable of forgetting.
Time passes by, however. The second hand of the clock still revolving, no matter how slowly, and you have somehow managed to survive the five years that have come to pass, albeit with the weight of unrequited love bearing down on you, preventing you from moving forward... but all you can do is live and bear it.
You continue on with life, every day a tiresome repeat of the one before. You date – sparsely – but never girls with the molten milk chocolate eyes or skin as soft as rose petals.
Memories of her fade with time, those that were once so vibrant and crystal clear now have wispy edges and unfilled centers as they fade to dust with the rise of each new dawn. But, with a severed heart and breaths that ache and burn with each forced intake, you try, each day, to once again find color in your black and white world, un-ageing, ever remaining the boy who once fell in love with a girl...who fell in love with a vampire.