AN. *waves sheepishly* Sorry for the mahoosive delay on this, its been one fuck up after another after another, which I won't list because dayum I'm not going to bore you with that shit, but yeah... FUCK YOU VERY MUCH ICELAND *seethes* This chapter got rewritten three different times during a four month period of working seven days a week and I hated each one, they were motherf'ing horrendous, and I derived a sick amount of pleasure from feeding them through the office shredder! Anyhoo... Shit finally eased off, I took a much needed holiday, sat in the sun for two weeks, made cocktails, played my music at a level that would make old people cry, and then this finally came out of my head! And I pranced! And I danced! And I knocked on superbeta JaspersDestiny's door (she has foolishly agreed to wrangle my grammahz for me after her chapter 19 save - we click, I can't even describe how she gets what I'm trying to say), and was like... "ummm... I haz sum wurds 4 u" *blinkblinkblink*, and she didn't run away crying, so here it finally is. Further AN at the bottom, but let me just say real quick a big thanks to anyone who chased, poked, prodded, or hunted my ass down, and to Tina, Queen of Grammar Wrangling, you are GREAT, and I F'ing love how shiny you make this.
L x
Now here's a recap:
Chapter 19 - JPOV end...
As I slink closer, moving like air over the ridge on the other side of which they roam, the antelope start at the sound of the dry brush crackling under my sprinting feet and bolt at the roar of thunder that rolls out of my gaping jaw. I don't chase after them, though, because I'm already running in the other direction toward a pull...a feeling... that makes my skin crawl. My whole body strains forward as everything blurs around me. Everything disappears but that feeling. I can hear echoing footsteps in my wake, and unless those antelope are running a suicide mission, my family is sprinting behind me.
Because something is fucking wrong. And it's scaring the shit out of me.
=^..^=
Chapter 19 - BPOV end...
The figure paused, eyes closed, and inhaled the air deeply. I watched like a fly trapped by a spider as a smirk crawled across darkened lips that unzipped bright, razor-sharp teeth. The eyes flashed open and every limb on my body drew taut like a bow as every detail filtered into my mind.
Red eyes.
Wrong! Danger. Wrong! Danger. Wrong!
The words screamed at me, and I wanted to run. I wanted to run hard and fast away from the creature that slinked ever closer, hips swaying hypnotically... but I just can't! I'm frozen stiff, and my eyes can only track the hand that moves deliberately towards my face.
I can't move, and the silent scream behind my eyes is deafening.
JPOV
Green, brown, green, green, tan, brown, green, air, branch, fear, green, green, footsteps, green, green, fear, green, green, brown, pants of air, in, out, in, out, brown, brown, green, fear, green, green, brush, whispers of scrub against fabric. Arms pump, legs stretch, sinew snaps and contracts as that elastic band in my chest twangs and vibrates. And still the fear. All I can feel is fear. It's everywhere. The air is saturated heavy with dread, and pain, and fear, and the green, brown, green, brown that whips on by. The pain is so overwhelming it almost feels like my own. It might be. I don't know where my emotions start and this eruption cloud begins because all I can feel is fear, sinking and crawling through every inch of me in a constant drip, drip, drip, like acid rain.
Fear.
Fear.
Pain.
Fear.
Fear.
Acceptance.
Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
It's fucking awful. I don't know the last time I ever felt this. I do... but I don't want to. My mind shorts and blanks, cutting that thought off. I need every bit of focus. My arms pump, my legs stretch, the sinew snaps and contracts in each limb as they compulsively push through wave after wave after wave of fear and pain so thick that I feel like I'm running through molasses rather than the light breeze that splits and rolls in chaotic eddies. I dart straight and true to the place that drags me forward like bait on a lure. I am a passenger. I only see what is in front of me as my legs run towards the darkness that's closing in on all sides. It's inescapable, and I've been dragged under by the current that pulls me forward without a thought.
Green, brown, green, green, tan, brown, green, air, branch, fear, green, green, sprinting footsteps, green, green, fear, green, green, brown, dragonfly, brown, brown, green, fear, green, green, ribbons of scent, cleaved and sliced by the momentum that carries me forwards, towards...
Shit!
I know where I'm going now. I know where this pull leads me.
My heart implodes in my chest, shredding lungs and fracturing ribs that slide down into my roiling gut like a wet slap against a concrete floor. I don't even think about fighting it. My feet pick up, and I run, run, run impossibly faster as doors open and close in different parts of my mind, the labyrinth reconfiguring as shadows slink out of corners and cages to slither ice cold through veins hardening into steel. The hammer goes down, and the green, brown, green, brown become grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey, grey. Everything on the periphery streaks and bleeds together, smeared by the speed that propels me onwards towards the silent howl that is ripping up my spine, threatening to disembowel me and leave me bleeding out on the forest floor. I can't lose her. I just can't.
Run...
Time is meaningless. There is only motion - motion and grey - and then a shutter click, freeze-frame. Stop. I don't even have time to contemplate what I'm running into before the hook that has pulled me jerks upward, all serrated edges and sharpness, from where it's been embedded deep inside, bringing me to a whip-cracking halt.
Breath pants uneven through gritted teeth and quivering flesh as everything is frozen stationary before me. Stop. Focus. Freeze-frame. Click. Immortalized negatives develop one after the other after the other in noxious clouds of chemicals that burn my eyes and singe my skin. I've found the eye of the storm. By God, what a storm it is. It roars, muffling everything with a suffocating silence, sucking the breath from me like a boot to the chest. That ice in my veins solidifies and I freeze.
I freeze.
Static particles charge and hang in the heavy air like windblown embers, licking and sparking against me as they tumble and rumble against one another and press down, down, down, smothering the air that pants in and out of my mouth, stealing it from me like a gloved hand before I can swallow it down. I'm clinging to the edge of hysteria, hanging over a cliff's edge with broken fingers and bleeding nails as the grit shifts beneath them and I slide in millimetres towards oblivion at what is laid out before me.
I'm in a clearing surrounded by low hanging trees that gently kiss the surface of water that caresses branches that lie in repose, creating a symphony of notes in this amphitheatre of horror. Leaves tremble like tiny cymbals to the vibrations travelling up and through them. Nothing else draws breath, takes a step, or dares to move. There is no life here. Life has fled. Screams of the departed taper off in the distance like discarded ribbons, all running away, fleeing, because there is only death here and she wants to play - death, and a horror that leaves me paralyzed, like the face that stares up at me in the grass at my feet. A silent scream paints that face whose eyes are so black the sockets look hollow. But they twitch. And they leak. And they scream in my face, flashing memories of a thousand tears and begging words in my ears with claws that rip at poorly finished stitches.
I blink.
The surface of the scene breaks, and...
I am frozen until my body expels the blood that curdles and congeals instantly in my stomach, shooting upwards and outwards in a spray of red rainbow mist and lumps. It trickles and oozes from my gaping jaw to the grass below. My hands splay out across knees that threaten to buckle beneath me. Drips and plinks bend blades of grass between my legs, forcing them to bow and rebound from the fountain that has spewed forth, their edges streaked with red. An army of tiny knives thrust upwards, lancing and gutting the horror wide open on the floor without mercy or conscience. I feel undone. Hollow. Am I here? Is this real? How is this real?
I can't tear my eyes away from the creature that has appeared in harsh focus before me. It crawls over twitching limbs that are scattered across the grass, demanding all of my attention. The feel of danger licks a wet path up the nape of my neck with a sharp, pointed tongue. There's no sound in this snuff film, but the actions speak a thousand words. The pain and the fear tell a story that I am more than familiar with. I can only watch as graceful fingers tiptoe over bare flesh, counting, pacing, and then marking before biting, ripping, and scarring. It's methodical. It's precise. It's brutal. It's not unfamiliar. Everything wavers at the edges of my vision, but I watch, transfixed, as glossy, polished teeth flash brilliant in the sunshine before they pierce and part skin like butter and disappear downwards into flesh. Iridescent liquid leaks from punctured holes and oozing gashes, trickling and dripping to the grass below where it mingles with the now congealing red, which is bleeding steadily black.
This is torture. This is horror. This is death. There is nothing but pain and fear.
Everywhere.
That, and the scent of cloying roses and heavy musk, which incinerates the inside of my nose and fans the flames that are lick, lick, licking at the dancing pyre that has ignited and roars deep in all corners of the recesses of my mind. Walls of memory catch fire and flare as negative after negative and frame after frame curl and crackle, hiss and spit as celluloid ignites in shimmering brilliance. Room after room in the labyrinth smolders as fragments flicker and play out, projecting in the gathering smoke that consumes them. A thousand memories, tastes, smells, and feelings ignite, and then a thousand more go up in flames, adding fuel to the fire.
Pain and fear. I soak it in. I soak it all in.
My empty stomach roils again, waiting for bile it will never produce as little fingertips walk four steps up an arm, carefully pacing out a measured distance with adept precision before teeth sink in again, and again, and again, and again. I can almost feel the burn of each incisor prickling across every scar on me, itching without promise of relief.
Is this real?
I blink.
I want to get out words. Something. But I can't seem to break the spell this has over me. I've seen worse. I've done worse. I've lived this. But this is just...
Pain and fear.
It washes over me. It runs through me. I feel it. I feel it all. I breathe it in.
The moment feels endless yet instant, time losing meaning until I register the presence of my family at my side. I feel their reeling emotions flutter and tap at the brittle window of my consciousness like startled birds. They stand still and watch, like me - still, silent, and transfixed by the step, step, bite and the tap, tap, rip. By the pain. By the fear. By the smell. Hands grasp one another - squeezing, twitching, solid, frenetic, grounding. Each of us wants to find the words, but we gasp like fish washed up on the bank at high tide. Because...
"Maria," whispers Charlotte. The words are just... thrown out there, and they fall, casting ripples with their weight - ripples that tumble through layers of thought buried deep, which crack wide open along fault lines covered over with shallow earth and desperation. Loose stitches are ripped wide open because... Maria. A whole floor of the maze explodes. The fire spreads and rages unconfined.
Dust. Shouts. Frantic shivers and darting eyes. Stay low. No weakness. No feeling of my own until the sunsets, bleeding into darkness and bringing the promise of feeling back. Don't make me feel... please... make me feel... but don't make me feel. Neon eyes flash red and senses explode. Skin ignites under hands that make fire as that voice whispers in my ear, "Sientes, Jasper. Feel it all. ¿Cómo se siente, mi querido?"
I shudder and the sea of grass quivers with me, waving in unison around two figures - one broken, one beautiful. Both twitch in shafts of light that pierce the clearing. Shadows and light, contrasting monochrome and vivid Technicolor, juxtapose to display the horror that lies before us like some untitled modern art piece. A frenzied "Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. Never yours. Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. Never yours. Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. Never yours. Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. Not yours," babbles frenetically in time with the stream that tinkles away in the background, washing over everything. But it's not enough to clean the stains away. It's not anywhere near enough to feel clean.
I... she...
Synapses flare, stutter, and fail trying to make the mental leap, but they fall short as the ground rushes upwards in the free fall.
I turn to Peter. He is transfixed, focused on the patchwork that is unfolding before our eyes. Pieces are laid out like a broken toy in the dirt, ready and waiting and hoping to be put back together. Counted. In line. A broken doll torn apart. But the parts are too far gone and nobody is prepared to speak the words. I'd think him a statue if it wasn't for his eyes, which burn like fire, and his hand, which at some point had found mine and grasps it just that little bit tighter. His other hand is clasped firmly in Charlotte's. She has buried herself deep into his side, each holding the other up as tiny cracks and fissures echo from their clasped hands. I just stare at him, at my brother, because... Maria. But Peter's eyes... they are only for her. Only for Maria.
I just...
Running. Fear. Eyes begging in dark alleys. Fingertips digging into brick. No escape. Lust. Sickness. Revulsion. Pride. Hot, dark, wet, touch, licking caresses that bring revulsion at the feeling. Dead. Hollow. Escape. Run. Night. Cold. So close and then... hot, rich, fragrant, teeth and mouth. There is no escape, only scared eyes and whimpers through paper thin walls and alleys as death stalks forth and claims their feeling just to touch something not dead inside. Then she's there with the soft touch that burns and crawls, and my arms are suddenly filled with quivering fear and soft paper tissue that tears in ribbons and smells like cherries, painting my hands as I lean in and whisper, "Feel it. Feel it all for me, darlin'." And she watches me. And I feel. I feel it all. I consume it all, and each hot, wet pull brings the cure and the curse as fingers touch and soothe. The thought of leaving crawls back into the darkness with a whimper. The fear recedes with the slowing beats. The atmosphere morphs to a familiar, foreign burn that sparks warm in my belly. It's not mine, but that doesn't matter because my arms are now filled with cold steel. We try to set each other on fire with friction. Why won't that cunt burn?
My eyes swing back, back to... Maria...and... Bella, who crawls in the dirt, over limbs and grass and pieces of ... "Maria". The name tumbles, foreign and unwieldy, out of my mouth, which is suddenly dry and rasping because the gravity of the scene has hit me like a freight train. Bella and Maria. Peter's hand tightens further around mine, and it's only then that I feel myself shaking, feel my body trembling in place, register that the blurring at the edge of my vision is all me as I fall apart in place. The static haze crackles around us, threatening to ignite the cloud of fear and pain that fills this place.
Teeth sink. Fingers pace. Nails score, painting death on canvas.
I blink.
It's still here.
I blink again.
Not a dream.
I blink. I'm lost.
Maria.
Muffled voices. Pain. Cooing words, whispered low and sultry in my ear. Unclean. Low. Fear. Teeth and nails. Screams that link in chains, one after the other, after the other, after the other, after the other... Is it me? Is it them? Burning, always the burning, across my skin and under my fingertips, licking across dirt as those screams ring, ring, ring out into the night, as that touch burns away pieces of my soul and that voice whispers, "Mi querido, ¿Cómo se siente?, amante?" Teeth and nails caress screams and burn from my skin. And I feel. I feel it all, over and over and over, and there is nothing else in the darkness to cling to as I drown.
I tremble, inside and out, that smell teasing at my taste buds and searing my throat closed, but my body moves a tentative step forward...and another, and another, and another until...
"Bella?" I rasp out. My voice feels dry and old, cracking under the weight of memories relived. I reach out a hand - a question - nearly pulling back, suspended in air, before tentatively laying it on her shoulder, feeling the solidity and the confirmation of her presence beneath it. Real. "Bella?" She's shaking under my hand, twitching and stuttering as she measures out more marks in her grand design. Venom drips from her mouth over ruby lips and satin skin, free-falling down into grooves and lines scored deep and onto a piece of thigh that quivers with the contact. I'm afraid to come closer. I'm afraid to touch it. I hate that I'm afraid to touch it. I don't want to touch this death. I can feel it and that's close enough. It's more than enough.
I blink.
Real.
Bella jolts, lurching upwards and forwards as she sparks raw and untamed, spilling fresh paint across a new piece of canvas. Slender fingers trace over a spiralling heart, molding rough edges of her medium into crisp lines with sharp nails that dig just a little deeper, creating iridescent rivers that well up and flow over tattered flesh. Her focus is absolute. My eyes crawl over her - over matted hair, torn cloth, and flesh smeared with dirt and grass. Dirty, beautiful, raw...and life.
I blink. She's in front of me.
Hands flutter at my face, pushing back hair, tracing the lines of my face, fingers ghosting lightly down my neck, touching, gently soothing, slowly, feeling, moving down arms loose with shock. She grasps my right hand tentatively. Eyes meet mine. They burn bright and feverish, swallowing me whole, as the inky black opens wide. We just stare. Time loses all meaning as everything disappears but us. Fingers slowly roll up the right sleeve of my shirt. Eyes never leave mine as I watch that inky black roll and roil like a storm in the darkness, watching for something. A reaction? I can only watch. Material folds softly over and over to bathe scarred skin in shadows and light. Feather light touches trace patterns. I shiver, exposed. Those eyes hold me in place. I float, cocooned weightlessly in them. She reaches out to smooth a wayward curl back into place behind my ear. It springs back out of place. Her soft hand then slides down my jaw, down my neck, down my arm, before rolling my sleeve back into place. A single finger skates around my wrist, over the back of my hand, and down my index finger, curling round the end like a wisp of smoke. I shiver in the light.
I blink.
She's gone again, working back over limbs stripped bare of cloth and laid out in the shadows and dirt. Those soft hands tiptoe with edged nails, and then those teeth...they sink deep again and again and again, enforcing the pattern on a dismembered forearm.
I blink.
I look down and touch my arm. My fingers reach out and trace the same pattern, feeling the indentations rising and falling, hidden away beneath dark cotton. The same.
They are scars predominantly left from one set of teeth.
The fire peaks inside. Everything is aflame, and that voice echoes, "Mi querido, ¿Cómo se siente?"
Oh.
God.
Pain. And. Fear.
It breaks over and over me in waves. I feel it all. I pull it all in, and my body shivers as something else catches deep down inside. It ignites and explodes, burning out rotten waste and searing over exposed scars. The flames rush and lick through memories of desert and sky painted red with blood, and hate, and heat, and... pain and fear.
"Bella..." My mouth forms the words. I can feel the vibration of air in my throat, but all I can hear is the static. My hand reaches out, unsteady and trembling, to touch her. I have to.
Real.
"Not. Done." Bite. "Not. Enough." Scratch.
My God. Enough. It's enough. So enough.
"It's enough, Bella," I can hear myself saying.
Her eyes meet mine again. Dark. Pitch-black darkness. But... soft. They glow, flickering over me, touching me. Even at this distance, I can feel them stroking softly over me. I can feel warmth from them, and it doesn't burn me.
How is she real?
"Bella. It's enough."
Her weight shifts back onto the balls of her feet as she jerks up to stand. Arms twitch by her sides. Arms twitch on the grass. She shudders and her arms come up to wrap around her waist as she soundlessly keens in place, eyes screwed shut, face taut in agony, shivering in place. I step forward and she lurches back. Panicked eyes meet mine. There is fear in them for the first time.
Please don't leave me.
My hands come up in deference, one foot slowly edging back, followed by the other. I retreat, palms outstretched.
Don't go. I'll be good, I swear.
She sobs and the sound tears through me. Breath draws in. She inhales and I exhale. She shudders, and those hands...those hands squeeze tighter around her body.
Please let me touch you. I'll make it all go away. Let me feel for you.
Our eyes meet. She whimpers and my heart breaks. Whispering, "Bella," my hand reaches out to her, fingers flexing in empty air. I call again. "Bella". Every emotion is written raw across my face. I just need to touch her to feel real, to know she's alright and that she's not going to leave me here in this amphitheatre of horror she's created.
Please don't leave me behind...
She cries out and collapses into my arms. A tangle of limbs surrounds me as she draws me into her embrace. And we stand there, holding each other as she buries her face in my hair and just breathes.
The rest of the world just disappears.
Spanish translations:
"Sientes, Jasper. Feel it all. ¿Cómo se siente, mi querido?"- Feel it, Jasper. Feel it all. How does it feel, my pet.
"Mi querido, ¿Cómo se siente?, amante?" - My boy, how does it feel, lover?
"Mi querido, ¿Cómo se siente?" - My boy, how does it feel?
AN 2.0. First off, I have to send massive thanks to a few people: Hammerhips (who stepped up and unmangled my spanglish - see the above), ItzMeBarb (for most determined update chaser - you made me chuckle in the best of ways), and BellaFlan and givemesomevamp (for emailing me things to read for the first time in forever on my holiday, the pure WIN you stuffed in my box reminded me why I love writing - both of them have fantastic stories on FF that you absolutely MUST check out).
I went through all the previous chapters on holiday and edited those, as some of them hadn't ever seen a beta creature and featured more than one sentence that continued in my head but never made it onto the page... they are all with the beta lady right now, and will be going back up when they come through. Nothing is being taken out, but they are being cleaned up and there are one or two cheeky little additions - I'll post on my blog as and when those changes go up.
Anyway... I'm going to get cracking on the BPOV now (the schedule is easing out so it shouldn't be within a month - April/August was a cosmic alignment of fuckery), but in the mean time there are a few stories I'd rec the ever loving fuck out of if you're looking for something to tide you over with:
Disgrace by catonspeed - I know, it's me, but I wrote Mauralee88 an OS for her FGB and I love how it turned out.
The Quite Room by Givemesomevamp - Bella/Jasper: We meet Bella, suffering the aftermath of her abandonment, locked up in 'Oakforest Behavioral Center for Troubled Young Adults' playing stare down with an unknown vampire (and you know me, I'm all about a good stare down *grins*), and it evolves beautifully from there. Bella's internal monologues are fantastic to read, and hurrah! her inner voice has SPINE!
Underneath Your Scars by Hammerhips (recently completed) - Bella/Jasper: Tribbles, rapey the clown, Peter, delicious fuckery, my god I could go on and on and on about this. Read it! Love it! Tell her I sent you! Lick her face! (that last one is optional... i'll leave it up to you)
Becoming Bella Swan by BellaFlan (recently completed) - Edward/Bella: This will blow your mind and your socks clean off. It's funny, it's got underthebedward, and bring a fire extinguisher, because... DAYUM!
Sweet Tooth by MacFlan - Edward/Bella: If you haven't found it yet and you can get down with a little AH diiiiiiirty funny fuckery, then ZOMG are you in for a TREAT! A buttercream-peniscake-cannolipube-confectionary-treat! *disney sigh*
Running by Merinagreen (recently completed) - Bella/Jasper: Teamlickage. That's all you need to know.
And blog wise you should check out the Twificpimps (who are running a contest focusing on the unsung of the fandom - readers, betas, those who lurk in the background but grease your cogs, banner makers - so i challenge you to go nom someone who would never see it coming and make their day - random acts of karma FTW), and Whitlock Harem (if only for their poem on the front page to the recent fandomwank - it's inspired *giggles*). Both are google-able. Go dew it.
I'm still working through emails from my lock down and I'm working my way through those reviews left while I was MIA - if I miss you let me know - the fact that you're still reading this shocks the ever-loving shit out of me.
Ciao for now,
L x
p.s Bet you were wondering WTFuckery TLM was when you saw that alert in your inbox *sniggers*
p.p.s I'mma stop rambling and go make myself a jasmine tea.
Blog: catonspeedland(dot)blogspot(dot)com
Twitter: catonspeed