The Disclaimer:

Twilight and New Moon, two books very fine.

Though I wish it could be, they will never be mine.

They belong to the talented Stephenie Meyer,

Whose writing achievements both awe and inspire.

It's clear that I'm not a poet, but I'm sure you get the idea. I own nothing, and Ms. Meyer owns all. No copyright infringement is intended.


Prologue – Leaving

"Bella, I don't want you with me"

"You're not good for me."

"Goodbye, Bella." How can my voice sound so calm? These words don't even make sense!

"Wait!" She's even paler than usual, her beautiful features ashen with shock. The one word chokes out of her like she's being strangled. I feel like I'm being strangled, though I have no real need to breathe. Time seems to slow down as I see her reaching for me. How in God's name am I going to be strong enough to do this? She's trying to step towards me, but it's like her body won't listen to her.

Without my willing it, my arms flash out and grab her wrists to steady her. Bringing her arms to her sides, I lean in and inhale her terrible, wonderful scent for the last time. The pain is going to end me… I gently kiss her forehead. Her eyes drift shut.

"Take care of yourself." Please, Bella. Please take care of yourself. I can't exist if you don't. Be safe. Be happy.

I release her wrists, and with vampire speed I am away before her eyes even have time to open. The pain is trying to take me, but I have a few more things to do before I give in. I rush back to Bella's house, up to her room where we spent so many blissful evenings together. I promised her peace with no reminders, and I will deliver it. It takes no time to find the photos, the CD, and the tickets. Holding them against me, I indulge myself by curling up on her bed for a moment, just one last time. I turn my face into the pillows, the memory of her scent still on them. Would it really hurt anything to leave a piece of myself here with her in the only place I've ever truly lived? Before I have time to talk myself out of it, I lift up a loose floorboard and put the items inside.

I leave a note for Charlie, in Bella's handwriting of course, on the kitchen counter. One last look at the memories, and I'm away. Maybe if I run fast enough, I can escape the pain. The thought almost makes me laugh, but it's not a happy sound.

Goodbye my love.