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Monster

Summary:
I'm nothing but a monster burning in a hell that only exists in my head. There's no hope left until one harmless glance chances logic and binds two eternal enemies together in a twist of fate. Can the escape from this hell be found in an infuriating dimpled grin? Or is this another dark, dirty trick of my own mind? A forbidden passion, heat, and intense anger—this is no fairytale.


Notes:
[Disclaimer: Monster is an originally plotted fic. The ideas within this fic are not to be copied in any way, shape, or form—I have not given my consent to any manner of copying. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of their respective owners. All canon concepts and characters are the property of the Twilight Saga's author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Similarities are for the sole use of fan fiction, and no profit has been or will be benefited from the posting of this fic.] Emerging Swan Award 2012, nominated into Fandom Choice Awards.


27. Man Up

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1092   Review this Chapter

"Leave me, leave me, I'm shutting it all down
You've got a tendency to bring a man down
I give up! I give up!
You've gotta get a gun to make a woman run."
- Imagine Dragons.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Man Up

*Emmett*

My life is over.

Nah, I haven't died just yet. Alice declared that my future had disappeared as of four months ago, and she is worried that it means I will be killed. Of course, nothing really can kill me at this point, so all of their worrying is useless. But no, that's not what has cut eternity short on my end. It's a hell of a lot worse than that.

I hold one of Rose's magazines clenched in my hands and breathe in, unnecessary air filling my mouth. I exhale quickly, tasting the tiny, tasteless particles of dust on my tongue. I spit. This is intense—there is no time for distractions.

"Focus, Emmett," I chant confidently to myself. "You got this."

My gaze holds steadily on the wall before slowly lowering to the frozen image clenched in between my hands.

It's a woman, modeling a bikini. I have no doubt that this woman has thousands, maybe even millions of dollars in her bank account, all saved up from selling her body off to the glossy pages of magazines. It's an amusing human occupation, I think.

But this is serious business.

My dark, focused eyes lock onto the page. They catch every detail, from the smear of crystal blue waves in the background to the nearly invisible dent in the previously folded paper. I can see the sun-darkened tone of the woman's skin and the smooth streak of blonde hair behind her. Her shape is clear, but all of the good stuff is missing. No thighs, waist, or . . . damn, no breasts either.

I growl softly, under my breath, raking one hand through my hair. I am just about to turn the page for another shot, just in case this is all a prank, when a flash of sudden movement catches my eye. My head snaps up, my alerted gaze locking with the burning, buttery gaze of Rosalie.

"Emmett," she greets me smoothly. "What are you doing?"

Fuck.

I clear my throat and return my gaze to the magazine. I lean back casually against the couch, lifting the magazine toward my face. Then, just for effect, I prop my feet up on the coffee table.

"Whoa, he slept with who?" I blink, shaking my head in mock horror. "Bet that was hot!"

Rosalie sighs. Over the clean-cut edge of the magazine, I watch her eyes narrow into slits. "Emmett."

My wrist snaps to the side, sending the magazine flying across the room before it smacks against the wall and lands on the floor. I am on my feet a moment later, trying my best to grin at her. Her face is so distorted, I can't even make out the shape of her head.

"Hey, Rose." I rub the back of my neck, my gaze darting around the house again. "Where's everybody at?"

Rosalie moves closer to me, her body gliding around the table while it closes the distance between us. "They're still out hunting." There is no spark as she presses herself to me, staring up at me with a face that I can't even see.

"I want time alone with you, Emmett," she tells me in a far-away voice. The sweetness of her bright, smiling tone burns in my ears, triggering a natural instinct to recoil.

"Rose. . ."

Her sharp hands slide into my hair, forcing my face closer to hers. Her fingers, once so smooth and soft, feel like knives against my scalp. There's a flash of white, as if her smile is fading. "Yes?"

A heavy silence grows between us. I know she is waiting for me to tell her that she is perfect, she is beautiful, she is the only thing on the earth left to love. But my mouth can't form the words. Rosalie is far away in some non-existent, fairy tale world that I am no longer a part of.

Time to man up.

I clear my throat. "Rose." I lean away from her, slowly, the movement careful but not hesitant.

There is a pause. The pressure of her body's closeness lightens. The air around me whistles sharply with her speed as she darts away from me with a low hiss.

"What is wrong with you? For the past few months you'd think you were . . . dead!" Rosalie spits the words at me, her tone venomous.

A groan rumbles in my throat as I shake my head. "I don't know what the hell is going on, Rose. But this," I gesture between us, "This is . . . something's wrong, babe. C'mon. Can't you feel it?"

Rosalie hisses at my spoken thoughts, making it clear that she doesn't feel it at all. Her teeth grind together, making a sound similar to nails on a blackboard in my ears. "Fine. I need a minute. Alone."

In a flash of a golden wave of hair, she is gone.

I stand there for a minute, assessing how I handled the situation. I sigh heavily, letting out a strong gust of air while turning my attention to the glass window. A burly, tall, muscled man stares back at me, a smirk etched on his face.

"Looks like it's just you and me, hot stuff," I tell him half-heartedly.

The man in the window flickers, his image blinking before disappearing. I glance up at the sky as a heavy dark cloud slides across the rounded moon. The forest is swallowed in darkness. I shake my head again and allow my gaze to skim across the forest, searching.

The dark forest calls to me, wanting to drag me in. I remain behind the glass, trapped, as I slowly tick away backwards, counting the months away. When I reach the fourth one, my mind pauses on the dark blue gaze of a white wolf. I can feel the world pause and sense the forest hush as it holds its breath.

Is that really the reason for what is happening? A wolf?

I shake my head once and turn back away from the glass, just as the front door creaks open, pushing the white wolf out of my thoughts once more. Maybe it's time my family took a little trip to the dog park, after all.

I have a feeling Rose won't be coming along.