Summary:Motorcycles are dangerous. Edward experiences this firsthand. Post New Moon. Tragic oneshot.


It had all been that stupid motorcycle's fault. That...that death machine that she had restored in her desperation to hear my voice. I had never really understood her reasoning for that, or why she kept riding it even after I returned to Forks. Maybe it was the thrill of speed, of feeling like you're flying over the ground so fast that not even your troubles can catch you. Bella couldn't get that feeling from running, the way vampires such as myself can, and I know she would have been embarrassed to ask me to run with her.

It had been a last hurrah for her, I think. A last night of being human before she was turned the next day. She had to have called Angela and sneaked out on a whim, because Alice didn't have any visions– not until later, anyway. I can imagine it if I close my eyes: Bella weaving softly through the forest trees that line the path to our house, darting out of the woods and over to where Angela waits, her car idling as the sun begins to set, its orange flare reflecting on Bella's hair and giving her a fiery halo. Apparently, they had driven to the dogs' reservation, where Bella had climbed on the bike, revved the engine, and let the bike fly over the worn dirt path.

When Alice had her vision, she had not told me any details, just that I needed to go to La Push, that Bella was in danger. There were tears in her eyes as I left. I had run then, faster than I ever had before, and I had prayed as I ran. I don't usually pray, but desperate times call for desperate measures. By the time I got there, I was too late; the motorcycle had already crashed, its front tire having been wrenched to the side by a rock of all things as the bike ran full-speed down the hill.

The motorcycle had crashed to the ground, its motor slowly dying as Bella– my Bella, my wife–, having been crushed under the bike's metal bulk, slowly died as well.

When I found her, she was already gone. I held her for a very long time, until Carlisle appeared with the police and pried my fingers loose.

So now I sit here beside the trashed, twisted pile of metal that used to be Bella's motorcycle. The police have already taken her body away, but the bike is still here. I wouldn't let them take it. Why? Because I want to destroy it. It destroyed Bella's life, it cut short our eternity together, and even though it's only a motorcycle, an inanimate object, I hate it. I reach out and twist the brake off. It sits on my pale palm, glinting innocent silver in the starlight, then I slowly fol my hand closed over it and squeeze until nothing remains of it but silver dust.


A/N: I've noticed that in most Twilight fics in which Bella gets fatally injured or something like that, she is ALWAYS saved by getting turned by a vampire. This annoys me. In real life, things usually don't coincide perfectly like that. Hence, this depressing fic.

I really need to write a happy Twilight fic sometime...sighs... one of these days...