Just a little OneShot, an alternative take on the moment Bella jumps. Actually, I pretty much changed the whole damn lot. Got rid of the Volturi, for starters. I never much liked them anyways, so it's all good. Oh, and Jake. And Eclipse. And the DevilSpawn-crappy-imprint storyline that I hated so much. Gah, Breaking Dawn was such a disappointment.
It actually occurred to me recently that most of my fics are based during New Moon. But you all knew that I was a morbid person, and New Moon is my favourite book, anyways.
Hope the character changes aren't to difficult to follow. I didn't plan this at all, I just kept bashing away at my keys, and I'm not too displeased by what came out of my moment of creativity. Feedback? Please?
S L I P P I N G - A W A Y
A Twilight FanFiction
by Becky Scarlett-Cullen
She stands on the edge, watches the sea. It's so easy. She'd just come up here for some recreational stuff, but she wonders if that was an excuse. She feels so free, her dark hair whipping around her face. Her eyes are alight in a way that they haven't been for one hundred and eighty-four days. She takes a step closer to the edge, and then she hears his voice. Heartbreakingly beautiful. She's ready to die, just so that she can hear that sound. Death would be nice, you know? A release. She had only just been able to refrain from killing herself before, because what would that do to Charlie? But that doesn't matter now. Her thoughts are far from any family that she's ever had. It's like they don't exist.
It will be like I never existed.
The words rip through her, tearing apart the old hole (repaired for a little while) viciously. It hurts. It probably always will hurt. It's not that the pain has changed; it's just that her pain threshold is higher. But only when she's got her defences up. When she's most vulnerable, when she's sleeping, it hurts just the same. Vicious, unforgiving, stabbing pain. She sucks in a breath—the last she'll ever take?—and jumps.
All she can see is the crashing waves, flying up at her. She lets fly a scream of exhilaration. It's matched by one of horror, in her mind.
He's with her until the end. "I love you, Bella."
She sees her jump. Why would she jump? The idea was that she'd be better, that she'd move on, forget about them. Apparently not. She'd always known that it would be difficult, of course. But Alice never thought that she would resort to this, of all things. Suicide.
She picks up her phone, and dials a familiar number. Her fingers shake as she attempts to press the sequence of numbers. The phone rings. A dead voice answers.
He receives the phone call, and all at once, he's sprinting. Faster than he's ever gone before, faster than any sports car. He's sprinting home. He's always been the fastest. And now that's great. He's faster than anything. But will he ever be fast enough? The precious second tick away as he runs. He just keeps running. Ten minutes, he thinks. Ten minutes to get to La Push, First beach. And damn the bloody treaty.
She's flying. For the first time in her life, she's flying. It's beautiful. For a moment, she finally grasps the concept of flight. She can die now, it's okay. She doesn't mind.
A million thoughts flash through her mind. The most predominant of which is a scream. A scream fuelled by love.
Edward… Edward, I love you. I love you. I love you.
It doesn't even hurt any more.
He reaches the base of the cliff in time to see her jump. He sees her roll onto the balls of her feet, and he cries out. She's too far away. She can't hear him. His vision shows him in high definition her last moments, perfect clarity. He sees her victorious smile, hears her scream as she throws herself from the cliff. And all he can think of is the fact that it's his fault. His fault…
He plunges into the water at the same time she does. The cold shocks even him; he dreads to think what it might do to his fragile human Bella. It takes a few precious seconds, but he sees her. Wrapping an arm around her tiny waist, he pulls her to safety. But it seems like it's too late, even now. Her pale skin is even paler than usual—as pale as his. There's no difference as he presses a cold hand to his love's cheek. Alive. She has to be alive. She can't not be alive.
He loves her. He tells her this, whispers it in her ear. He's said it a thousand times, and he'll say it a thousand more if it means it will save her life. But he can feel her. Slipping away. Slipping… slipping…
He knows what he has to do. It hurts. What if she doesn't want eternal damnation? What if she really did want to die?
But it's too late to think of that now. He's too selfish to give it much thought, anyway. Brushing away wet hair plastered to her ivory neck, he bites down. Into their future.