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Victory

Summary:
5 100-word drabbles for twilight_100. Sam/Leah, Jacob/Bella, Nessie-centric, Bella-centric, Sam-centric.


Notes:
you're going to be seeing a lot of these.


1. Chapter 1

Rating 5/5   Word Count 537   Review this Chapter

Sam is whispering her name and smiling into her hair and it’s a lie but it’s a beautiful one. It shines against the dark background of her life.

And then he’s leaving her again.

It never stops hurting.

It will never stop hurting.

This is her life for the past and the foreseeable future and it kill her but she knows she really has no choice.

There is no victory for Leah. The enemy is her own best friend and the battleground is the one person she will never make demands on.

She’ll take her consolation prize and be glad.

Nessie hates it. She hates Jacob, she hates her mother, she hates her father, she hates them all. She hates them for lying to her.

If she had to pick one of them to smite off the face of the earth, though, it would probably be Jake. After all, he’s the one who told her she was his princess, his angel, his only love.

A horrible lie. She’s no more than a mini Bella-shaped consolation prize to help fix his broken heart.

Worse than that, she’s a compulsion. His real heart, beautiful and strong and hopeless, will never be hers.

Sam lives on a fine line these days. On one hand he’s constantly swearing to Leah that there’s nothing anyone could have done, that if he’d had any choice it would be her, it would be her, he would have kept those promises, and on the other he’s always reassuring Emily that just because he imprinted on her doesn’t make this any less valid, any less real.

Sometimes it seems strange to him, that killing leeches is more restful than the bed he sleeps in at night.

But he likes his victories straightforward. That’s something Emily (Leah) will never be.

Bella Black put the squalling four-year-old down. “Shh, your daddy’s home,” she cautioned. Her son calmed.

She rushed to the door, EJ gripping her hand, as she waited for the best part of her day.

His grin was blinding as he swept his wife into his arms. Jacob laughed when their kiss broke. Soon, she joined in. He touched her stomach gently, and she winced a little when she felt the kick from within.

Outside the window, a dark figure watched, eyes closed in agony.

He fought for this, for her.

Edward Cullen never thought victory would hurt so much.

“Every man is born into a fight with death,” Old Mr. Weber read over the body, “and each of us loses in the end.”

If Isabella Cullen had tears, they would have been

streamingdownherfacefallingonthegroundlikesnow

They don’t.

Charlie’s body is lowered into the ground, slowly, slowly

coldgrayearthcolddeaddaughtertheonlythingsthatrememberhimnow

Bella walks to the gravestone, kneels in the mound of earth, drops a red rose onto it

redlikebloodredlikepainredlikeher

She’s no one’s warm brown daughter now.

Charlie’s just forfeited the fight against forever. She’s its only champion

emptyemptyprizestingssomuchwhenshewalksaway

She wishes she could cry for him. She wishes she could tell him it was worthwhile

butevensheisn’tcoldenoughtolietoacorpse