After five days of being mercilessly hounded back and forth across many states and far north into Canada, I was eventually ensnared somewhere around Hastings Cutoff, Nevada, in a pincer manoeuvre, outnumbered if not outwitted, I attempted to escape on foot. Being faster than the others should have given me the advantage, but they distracted me with my one true weakness- Bella's scent.

I shudder at the memory now, burned eternally into my retinas, of that most blighted and rotten potato, Emmett, wearing Bella's sleep shirt and pantyhose, his vile form bulging under the fabric, stretching and pulling it so. It would never come back into shape after such maltreatment, much like my poor, dead heart.

In an instant I was football tackled before I could realise my error and then sat upon in a most undignified manner. I was restrained in this manner, Emmett's marmoreal buttocks distorting the contours of my face and muffling my shrieks, for ten interminable hours as I was driven, very much against my will, back to Carlisle's lair.

During the ride I was subjected to a constant stream of Rosalie and Alice's thoughts. They flooded me with court transcripts from stalking victims, interviews with women who had been plagued by obsessive men, articles about the warning signs and first hand accounts of being haunted for years after such violation, alongside images they had sought out specifically to torment me of altars and shrines built by deranged killers and psychopaths.

They seemed to think there were notable parallels with my reliquary. The thought distresses me so, how could they think so little of my affections for Bella? The superficial similarities need not be mentioned, but the intent? The reverence with which I had treated each treasure? These things mean nought to them and I am tarred with the same brush as the likes of Dhamer!

I would never, never harm Bella. Her life is the only thing of importance to me in all eternity. Of course I want to protect her, be near her and have some keepsakes to assuage my crushing loneliness when I am forced to be apart from her. They have no idea what it is to be surrounded by couples for 90 long years. Now I have finally found true love and they want to take it from me.

I have missed Bella so terribly these lonely past days. It has been the most abject misery.

After being manhandled into the house by the entire blasted family, each Cullen playing their part in this second death by a thousand cuts, the meeting began in earnest. Having quite exhausted myself and being severely underfed, I knew I had no choice but to capitulate until an opportunity to escape presented itself.

I reluctantly listened to Carlisle, he was spitting feathers, I have never seen him so incensed. Condemnation after condemnation fell from his mouth as I sat scowling at the table, Emmett's fat hands on my shoulders in restraint.

Alice held nothing back when recounting her revulsion and shock at finding the reliquary. Emmett and Jasper clamped my mouth shut after I shouted about her invading my privacy.

It was the worst kind of witch trial. Nobody would let me speak, the family concurring in their framing it some kind of intervention.

Rosalie just kept interjecting "What the actual fuck Edward?!" as if I give one jot what she meaningless opinion of me is! Or any of theirs.

We had barely begun before Esme called for a pause so she could put a towel down to protect the dining table's veneer from my venomous hissing. She tried to pat my hand but I was in no mood for her simpering. She did look stung by my rejection though. Why does she care? How can she let them torture me so and then still think that this is for the best?

Each Cullen took their turn at twisting the knife, sharing their thoughts (as if I care!) and telling me how 'concerned' they are about my 'unhealthy obsession' and how they think I should change. Change? Of course they think I should change. Heaven forfend their whipping boy ever find a modicum of solace! Shame on me!

Carlisle finally drew the meeting to a close after some further wittering about how much trouble I had caused and how he had covered our absence from school with some fallacy about us all catching mono, there seems to be quite the pandemic at Forks High. I strongly suspect Lauren was patient zero.

I have not the energy nor will to attempt escape now. Let them do their worst. It is no matter now. I am utterly broken and defeated, trapped like an animal and denied the release of death.

I write now, curled up in the dark of my closet. Bella's scent faintly lingers. I am brokenhearted, and humiliated. They have annihilated me.

How I wish so to know some little peace. Why will they not just let me go to Volterra? They are torturing me.

A/N: Poor Edward. His behaviour has been going from bad to worse for a long time now though. Do you think he deserves this? Will the French Polish on Esme's table be ok?
Fun fact: Hastings Cuttoff is the route the Donner party took which led to their disastrous winter being snowbound in the Sierra Nevada

Thanks to the creative, kind and funny wh1teow1 for being the best beta for this story please show some love and read Moirai, a reimagining of Twilight for the new decade!