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Nightmare Angel

Edward looks through Bella's window. He has been gone for six months, two weeks, a day, and five hours. He knows every minute because it hurts so much. All he wanted to do was see her one more time. What happens when he learns what he has done to the only one he will ever love? Image Hosted by ImageShack.us banner that actually shows up made by the FANtastic iris!

This will switch between Edward's thoughts and Bella's. Disclaimer: I own nothing.

6. Jailer

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I am awake this time. I know that. It is four in the afternoon, and I am chopping onions for dinner.

Each click of the blade seems to match the throb of my heart. Slow, agonized, broken. The onions make my eyes sting, but I do not cry. That pain is so insignificant compared to my empty heart.

Suddenly, I am in his presence. I know it even before I see him. I do not turn. He is the one who must make the first move. We are both aware of that, painfully so. Yet I can sense him, because my heart stops hurting. It does not matter that he doesn’t want me, that I am no more special than I ever was, because he is here. So long as he remains, I am safe. The pain will return, but it is so amazing to be without it.

I can breathe. My heart is beating.

It is incredible. Even though nothing has changed, even though he does not want me, never wanted me! None of that matters. I wonder if I could convince him to stay in town, to allow me to occasionally gaze upon his perfection. Surely that would keep the pain away?

I am not worthy of that, but he is so good. He will, out of guilt or regret, out of sorrow. And so I could not ask, because I can never hurt him.

“Bella,” he whispers, “please, look at me.”

I never thought I would again have the privilege of gazing on his face. If you asked me this morning, I would have crumpled in pain at the mere suggestion. Yet… I am so glad. Quickly, my starved eyes feast on his perfection.

His hair, darkened by rain, red-brown and slightly spiked, is falling across his marble face, dried to the wide expanse of pale forehead. Below that, perfect eyebrows arch, highlighting his eyes. My heart breaks as I look into them. The look there terrifies. What if he tries to lie again, like he did in that dream? I don’t think I can take it while looking at these beautiful eyes, full of lying love. His lashes, ridiculously long, do not close. He is not blinking, so I have not even an instant’s respite from the hypnotic force of his topaz eyes. The rest of his features, chiseled perfection beneath the icy-white skin, hold little interest in comparison to his eyes.

I am sure that they will star in my nightmares tonight, and the thought scares me.

“Bella, is something wrong?” What a ridiculous question! Like anything could be wrong while he is here! Everything is right. It is when he leaves that things will go wrong, and I wince at the pain that lies down that path. I cannot live without him. I have realized that in these hideous months, and I know this is the last straw. I have used up all my effort. I lived for Charlie, but I can’t go on. All my will is spent. All I really have left is a few minutes to gaze on his face. I wonder why he has returned.

I cannot go on. When he leaves, I will have to kill myself. The thought is comforting. I just want the pain to end, at this point. What better final memory than of seeing him, no matter what further tortures he brings with words or deeds? His presence is enough.

I won’t tell him. He’ll feel guilty, obligated to stay, and he’ll be miserable. I’d so much rather live an eternity with this pain (though I wince at the thought) than see him stuck with me, miserable, loathing me. I am in love with him, but I know what will happen. We were never meant to be together.

I wonder why he ever so much as noticed me. Then I see his eyes on mine, anxious, a shining golden hue indescribable.

“Edward.” I whisper his name, those precious, forbidden syllables, and everything goes black.

His eyes torture me in unconsciousness. I can see the coldness of them now, as I sleep, desperate to wake up, to see him again. I try to force myself up, but he keeps me imprisoned. This unrequited love is a jail. He holds the key.