Edward Cullen.

As I sat there in agonised silence, trying desperately to drown out my own thoughts with the disarrayed, chaotic ones of the hundred or so people around me, I reflected on the incredible stupidity of the idea I was currently living out. No doubt, if Alice or Emmett had been here now they would have, in their own individual and delightfully blunt ways, pointed out just how incredibly stupid it was and forcefully dragged me off the plane as soon as it landed. As it were, they weren't here, although I was sure Alice would've had at least an inkling of what I was up to by now, and was probably clambering on to the next flight to Italy fully prepared to chase me down before the Volturi did. I hoped that maybe someone would be able to talk sense into her and get her to leave me to my masochistic thoughts and impending doom; perhaps Jasper or Carlisle. I knew for certain it wouldn't be Rosalie…

Ah, Rosalie.

Her name conjured up pain I much preferred to stuff up the back of my mind underneath the multilingual stresses and fantasies of a plane load of humans. Of course, it wasn't memories of Rosalie herself that tormented me; it was the sound of her voice like a broken record skipping through all the recesses of my brain, always the same four words.

'It's Bella… she's dead.'

She'd said that Alice had had a vision of Bella jumping off a cliff, and because I'd been slightly suspicious of her intentions – I'd considered that it wouldn't be unlike her to be so cruel just to get me to come home – I'd rung Bella's house. To my surprise a young, male voice had answered the phone, and although the jealousy had ripped through me, I'd noted the anxiety in his voice and remained calm enough to impersonate Carlisle, asking for Charlie.

'He's not here, he's at the funeral.'

I bristled in my seat, determinedly not looking at the small child in next to me, who was staring at me with a mingled mix of curiosity and fear, her tiny brain working away at trying to pinpoint what it was that seemed so different about me. If I hadn't been on the last plane trip of my life I would have at least smiled when she started to think about the strange colour of my eyes, her comparison to them being those caramel toffees she liked so much. Her dark hair and dark eyes reminded me too much of what I'd left behind, of Bella; and I began to hum quietly, overriding her simple thought processes so that I wouldn't feel like breaking something so much.

Instead, as I sat there glaring out of the window into the stark nothingness of the night sky, the tawny shadow of my irises reflected in the inky glass staring back at me, I felt like I, myself, was breaking. It was such a humanistic quality that it scared me, but not as much as it usually would have. I'd spent too many months living like that now to be properly frightened by it, but it was still one factor of humanity that I didn't miss at all. In truth, I felt like I was physically breaking, as if, like a fragile human, I was black and blue with bruises all over my body, and as the plane began to gently tip downwards, gravity did nothing to help with this and neither did my brain.

There's nothing like your impending death to make you feel inadequate, as if you've never achieved what you wanted in life, which is quite pathetic in my case, considering I've been around for over a hundred years.

I did achieve one thing though, and that was love.

I found my purpose in life, my identity and my reason for existence – my Juliet, and even now as I walk in a dreamlike state through the airport terminal, I smile to myself, thankful for what I have achieved… a regular Romeo, marching off into the light.

hey all. -waves-

well this is my first ever Twilight story, i hope you all enjoyed it.
i'm sure it's been done before but i was listening to 'Bruised' by Jack's Mannequin and i was suddenly so extremely inspired that i had to sit down and write. I've been going through a Twilight-phase lately, since I
finally got my copy of 'Eclipse', so i suppose a story was imminent (sp?).

I'm hoping to make this just a collection of short stories, poems, whatever else I feel inspired to write about the Twilight universe, so yeah, any ideas are welcome. I'm also thinking of doing a sort of challenge - a hundred, 100-word drabbles about different things, triggered by a one-word prompt per piece (i have about 30 prompt words so far). so if you have any ideas or requests or whatever, let me know. :)

anyway, not much else to report, except that you should probably download the song or at least google the lyrics to this song because then you'll: a) understand the underlying emotion in this peace, and b) realise how perfect the song is.

remember: 'Bruised' by Jack's Mannequin.

thank ye kindly.
Ash. x