Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership over the ideas of others incorporated into this fic. It all belongs to its rightful owners.


a part of me


Two weeks have passed since I lost my virginity to Edward.

It happened at the beginning of our honeymoon. He hadn't wanted to go through with it, but I managed to convince him. It's our first night alone as a married couple after all, I told him, it's expected of us to consummate our marriage. And unexpectedly, that was all I needed to say to get him to fall into bed with me.

And he did.

We did.

But it was far from what I expected.

I had known from the moment he asked me to marry him before being turned into a vampire that I would end up 'dying' a virgin if I left it up to him. I did not want that for myself. He might be proud of his own purity but the only reasons for my own were his concerns of possibly hurting me.

When he agreed then, just getting him to stop avoiding the topic of sex felt like an accomplishment to me.

Our whole relationship, he had always refrained from going any further than chaste kissing and some cuddling. And even knowing he was only scared of hurting me with his strength, I felt the sting of rejection every time he pulled away from me, chipping away at my self-esteem every time.

But this time, he wouldn't pull away.

I knew then I'd finally get what I wanted, that the high of anticipation I felt the entire ride to the island was finally going to come to fruition.

That day, we arrived early-morning at a beautiful single-story cabin with see-through glass making up a good portion of the walls. It was like the ideal vacation home, a smaller version of the Cullens' place in Forks, decorated with light wood and glamorous furnishings. Within an hour of arriving, our luggage had been unpacked and put away, and then Edward had whisked me away on a beautiful tour.

I fell in love with the island then.

Where the Cullens' home in Forks was surrounded by large, trimmed trees all around, this house was surrounded by a sandy beach that faded out into a thicket of wild, untamed woods. There was a feeling of peace in the nature permitting the whole area, the stray sounds of small creatures and crashing waves all to be heard on the small, otherwise vacant island.

I never thought I would love it as much as I did when I first learnt of the Cullens' private island. After the dive I took off the cliff at La Push beach, I had somewhat of an aversion to the water. Yet, being on a piece of land surrounded by it wasn't as bad as I had feared.

That evening, I took a shower as soon as we returned to the house while he was off apparently preparing a five-course meal for me, or at least what passed for one outside a restaurant. There were lit candles all along the table and flowers centered in the middle of the outside venue. It was the perfect precursor to the consummation of our marriage.

I ate with the sweetest of butterflies nestled in my stomach, heart slowly pulsing in tune with the surrounding nature's song of island birds and distant waves. I had not felt that calm and relaxed in a while.

Back then, I thought it meant great things for the night ahead, but it turned out to be the calm before an overly complicated storm.

That night, he left me to read in the beautifully decorated den as he went off to hunt in preparation. We both wanted him to be fully sated before even attempting to make love. Better to be safe than sorry, we both thought. Neither of us could have known his doing so would only exacerbate things, his instincts flaring to life after the recent feeding and the blood lust that came with it.

That night, it felt like I was making love with a wild cat in humanoid form, untethered and consumed with primal instincts.

Even to this day, two weeks later, I still have the marks that his rough handling of me left behind.

There wasn't a warning that night. At first, he had been gentle with me, undressing me with eyes full of love and careful hands. I undressed him in kind, hands trembling as I did, falling to the bed in a tangle of limbs and trading soft kisses back and forth, exploring one another's naked flesh with needy hands.

But then he took a deep breath as he moved down to kiss my neck, the scent of my blood filling him, and things went sideways from there.

That night, when he next made eye contact with me, the only thing I could distinguish within his gaze was a bared need, a primal desire that burned into me. After that moment, I can't recall much else of the night. Everything became a blur as my adrenaline spiked, the wine I had earlier mixing with the desire and fear swirling within me as Edward took my virginity in sharp thrusts, driving into me all night.

There's no clear memory of when he took that first push into me. I only recall the pain that came with my loss and how it faded into a dull sensation at some point, my heart beating rapidly and pounding in my ears all the while, overpowering my cries and his animalistic grunts.

The next morning, I woke up to a destroyed room and an empty bed.

My bare body was engulfed within the sheets as though I'd been carefully wrapped in them. The canopy that once framed the bed had no longer hung above it but was laying torn with ripped strips on the floor beside the bed. And then I realized the sheets that were on the bed the night before were also torn up beside it and the one I was holding to my chest as I looked around was a fresh one from the closet.

It was a shocking image to awaken to on my own.

Later, after I showered off the dried sweat and ickiness I was covered in, I spent a while cleaning all of it up. The marks that littered my body were a bright, stinging red then, and I counted seven distinct ones before I had pushed aside thoughts of it. By the time he returned with nothing but a light kiss upon my head and a question of what I wanted for breakfast, eyes the bright golden color they became after a fresh hunt, it was almost like the night before had never happened.

I decided to take that and run with it.

That day, he asked me what I wanted to do for the next two weeks. Knowing he did not want to talk about that night, I diligently spouted out some of the activities I'd been told about. From then on, he'd reverted back to avoiding the subject of sex and keeping our interactions as innocent as possible.

But it was different then, it was different because I didn't mind it.

After all, I was engaging in the avoidance too.

It hadn't been how I'd imagined it would be. I had desired that level of physical affection with him from the moment I realized I loved him, yet when the moment finally came, it did not live up to the images I pictured in my mind. And because of that, I did not want to bring it up for fear of uncovering anything more about that night, the parts I could not recall.

Some things were better left unknown.

But our honeymoon is over now. We made it through those two weeks by immersing ourselves in any kind of fun the island had to offer, doing things I could happily recall for my friends and family back home.

It was worth that night just to experience diving in clear waters and hiking to high mountaintops.

And maybe, once I was changed into one of them and could experience things on his level, we could try it again.

Sighing out as the last of my musings left my mind, I got up from the bed and started the tedious process of packing. The mess that accumulated in the house in the time we've been here is actually pretty impressive but it's been a pain to clean up. Reaching out, I pick up a shirt I must've thrown onto the vanity table at some point, adding it to the growing pile beside my opened luggage, and then come to a stop as I see a box of tampons underneath.

The same box I bought right before leaving Forks in anticipation of my period. The same ones I never opened up since we arrived a little over two weeks ago. The ones from the exact brand I last used over a month ago.

I pick it up off the table, knowing I've had a regular cycle since I first got it at thirteen, and the thoughts that rush through me at the sight force me onto my knees.

The only times I can recall it being irregular were the months of depression I lapsed into after the Cullens abandoned me, but it had gone right back to its regularly programmed scheduling right after their return to Forks. I have never been more than three days late on my period otherwise and it has now been eleven days past the date I marked on my calendar.

And at that moment, as all those thoughts circle through my mind, three things become clear.

One: I'm late.

Two: I'm no longer a virgin.

And as I feel something shift in my suddenly nauseous stomach, the last one hits me hard.

Three: I'm pregnant.