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New Moon: Edward's version

Have you ever wondered what happened to Edward after he left Bella in the forest? What was he thinking when he searched her room for physical proof he exists? How did the other Cullen's react? Were Edward and Bella the only sufferer's of the break up? Here are some answers....

Alright, here is what I think happened and I'm pretty proud of what I've written so please review!! I don't feel this is going anywhere anymore, so I've ticked the completeed box and that's the end of that. HOWEVER if you are desperate for this to be finished, leave me a review and I'll see what I can do, because I know how much it sucks if you're enjoying something and it never gets finished. Lots of love, SparklyCullen xxx

5. She's dead

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1809   Review this Chapter

Bella. Bella, Bella, Bella. Her name bounced off the wall of my skull and cut through me again like a boomerang. Bella. Bella, Bella, Bella.

I tried to concentrate on holding out, but the strength of my resolution was wavering. Surely it should easier the longer I spent away from her? I had lasted six months, and over a hundred years before that, so what was another month, week, day, hour, minute? I groaned with the effort of restraining myself. I had promised her. It would be too late now, she would have moved on.

But what if she hasn’t? asked my sly conscience. What if she’s still pining for you to this day?

She was human, I argued. Her memory was weak, it would forget the details. Time heals all wounds for her kind...

“And your memories?” she asks croakily. Her bark brown hair, with the texture of softly woven silk, frames her deep brown observant eyes that are clouded with terror as they search desperately for the slightest crack in my charade. Her devastatingly delicate face contorts into the most breathtaking and heart-rending expression of anxiety and concern, as her tasteful pulse tremors and accelerates at the thought of my departure.

“Well-” I waver. “I won’t forget. But my kind… we’re very easily distracted.”

I snorted. Distractions were hard to come by when you were pining for the love of your entire existence.

My phone rang shrill through the tired, worn room. I glanced down at the caller ID. Rosalie. What does she want with me? Was it too much to ask to mourn alone?

I frowned and flipped open the phone in defeat. If it was important, I would listen, if it was to persuade me to return “home” she could go to hell. “Home” was with Bella, hence “home” was off limits.

“Rosalie.” I murmured bluntly.

“Hi, Edward. Are you coming home now?”

“No,” I said bluntly, making to end the call but she began to yell for my attention.

“Rosalie, I’m not returning home.”

“But you can! She’s gone! She can’t bother us any longer!”

I shook my head, trying to make sense of her words. “What are you blithering on about?”

“We left to protect her right? Well she doesn’t need protecting now, so you can come back-”

“What? Who are you talking about?”

Rosalie grunted as though it was obvious. “Bella, duh. She’s gone. Alice saw it.”

“Bella...” Words failed me. “...she promised... she can’t be-”

“Well she is. When has Alice ever been wrong? Bella’s dead.”

No. Impossible.

“Edward? Are you-?” I hung up and fluidly dialled the number I swore I’d never phone again. It rung for what seemed like an age. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. I couldn’t will myself to accept the possibility that she wasn’t here; wasn’t alive. If I wasn’t ringing to confirm her state, I would be ecstatic about hearing her voice once more.

If Bella answered, I would hang up. If it was Charlie, I would pretend to be Carlisle and ask him to check the house for an important document and pretend Esme has found it whilst I was phoning and casually ask about Bella’s wellbeing.

“Swan residence.” An unfamiliar male voice growled down the line. This wasn’t Bella. What was a young man doing in Bella’s house? I shook my head, trying to clear the jealousy that threatened to control my next words.

“Hello, this is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Is Charlie there, please?” I posed in Carlisle’s smooth English accent.

“He’s not here.”

Not there? Then why was this boy answering the phone? “Well, could you tell me where he is?”

The voice sounded resigned, unhappy, grieving. “He’s arranging a funeral.”

I sat still as the flames began to lick my body. Bella was not coming back. My world had fallen off the edge and disappeared.Bella was not coming back; how could I come to terms with the fact? I never would. I would be dead myself before the news had time to sink in.

He’s arranging a funeral.

When has Alice ever been wrong?

Unconsciously, I rose from the dusty floorboards and left the building I had retreated to, the phone already crushed beyond recognition in my fist. I could see myself in reflections against warehouse windows as I ran; I looked darker and more frightening than I had ever been in my entire existence but I could not summon the energy to care. Bella was dead, out of my reach forever. I was never going to smell her sweet perfume nor see her face light with recognition and joy as I cross her path. I dropped the phone into a dustbin as I ran through Rio, on my way to Italy. It no longer mattered that Victoria roamed the world, it was Bella who ended her own life and I would follow suit immediately – I had been unsuccessfully tracking Victoria for months, I could not wait any longer without Bella breathing the same air as I. My life and existence had been created for her, for her beck and call and I was no longer needed.

Alice had seen this coming. Had Bella retreated to Arizona and killed herself there? Who was the doctor that fought to save her life? Was there a doctor present? What had she done? Why had she done it? Was it because of me? I’ll never know. If it was the latter, why had she waited six months before acting? Why had she surrendered when I was hours away from returning to her feet, begging for forgiveness? It was too late to change her for my own selfish needs. I could not even return to Forks to gaze on her in her coffin, her funeral was taking place this very minute and even I, in my desperate state, could not run fast enough to make it to her side as we both descended into the ground...

I quickly contemplated several different plans of action, but dismissing them as soon as I thought of them. A “waste of a good talent” was I? I will show them. Should I pick up a car in the middle of a crowded square? Force myself through the solid walls of busy buildings? Dig through stone flags and into the ground with my bare hands in front of an astounded audience? Tell people exactly what they are thinking word for word? Invite someone to a race and run at full speed?

I decided on a last killing spree to drown my sorrow; I would go out into the celebrations and strike down a dozen individuals in one strike, so their blood would flow like the tide over the Italian cobbles. I would drink twice, three times my fill. I was a monster, and with Bella gone, my will had evaporated. I could not care about my victim’s families and lives when I was going insane with grief. Bella was dead and I could never be with her again. I stalked in the shadows, focusing on a compact group of British tourists. As I made to dart out, my conscience winded me. I could see Carlisle standing behind me, watching with anguish as I made for the kill. If that was not enough, I suddenly recalled why I was doing this. One of these people, because that is what they were, could be somebody’s Bella, and I could be erasing their Bella from their lives like Bella had been swept from mine. I stepped back and reconsidered, half hoping the Volturi would race to me now having realised my intentions. I would avoid killing anyone where possible; they did not deserve to die for a vampire’s desperate attempt to be slain.

I would walk out into the sun, at noon from under the clock tower. I would show them what Bella saw as a beautiful monster. My heart ached, but with such little time left, I opened the flood gates, and recalled every second I had ever spent with her at top speed, so I could remember everything before the time came.

Her beautiful, brown eyes clouded trying to focus and decode the meanings of my words. Her soft, pale skin flushing a blooming shade of rose red as the blood rises near the surface, tempting me. Her sweet scent caressing my throat with his burning hold every second I was with her; Her soft brown curls flowing down her back, framing her delicate, breakable features; Her straight, white teeth biting into her lip, tempting me to touch my hungry lips to hers; Her warm skin beneath my stone cold palms; So beautiful. When she accused me of dazzling her, when she looked on in awe as the sun caused my skin to reflect its light, our first kiss when she threw herself at me, our second kiss when she passed out, when she clutched to my back, nuzzling her face into my neck as I ran through forests, together in the meadow, her face against my chest, her silent mind provoking me from across the canteen, the electricity coursing through our bodies during an insignificant biology video.

“Edward!” I smiled peacefully at the sound of her voice as I unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall off my shoulders. Oh Bella, my sweet, caring, human Bella. I’m coming for you...

No! Edward, don’t!” I leaned forward to take my final step. I waited for the swooping cloaks to pull me away, into the dark pit of hell and throw me into the flames.

Something light slammed into my side. I sighed. A beautiful scent dulled the pain in my heart. So beautiful, so perfect. Slowly, I opened my eyes, looking down at the person who had run into me.

“Impossible,” I murmured to myself, stroking her face with my finger tips. How could this be? Here she was, Bella, my Bella, in my arms. Her eyes wild with fright but her face was an unmistakable mask of relief. Her beautiful dark hair blew gently in the Italian air, slightly knotted and awry as though she had not brushed it for a couple of days. Her pale, ivory skin was flushed with delicious roses, although here the scent was not that I was desperate for a taste. I wanted to save the blood in its natural vault. How could I have ever considered murdering this beautiful human girl, so warm and alive in my arms? How was it possible that my undeserved angel resided here in hell with me? Unless...

“Carlisle was right!” I realised, my dead heart full of life and love for the dead girl in my arms and my remarkable father. Of course Carlisle was like God, so kind, gentle and good natured, seeing the best in everyone, always willing to save the damned.