This is something completely new to me, I've never tried this... style of a story before. I don't know. Please review and tell me what you think, as always, anything is welcomed.
The Tiger and The Butterfly
Twenty Little Known Facts About Jasper Hale, as Told By Alice Cullen
One. He can feel emotions, but that doesn't mean he wants to. Late, late, late at night, in the shelter of their own room, she can watch him tear himself up over things that he has no control over. She is the one that has to assure him all is well, all is fine. She is the one that has to reach into his still, cold heart and warm him up.
Two. He isn't proud of the man he has become. Jasper can't look into the mirror and see someone that he is happy to see staring back at him. All he can see is the fear that has saturated the eyes of the victims he has claimed.
Three. He loved Maria. Yes, he loved her. It wasn't the same kind of love like he feels for Alice, but it was love. It might not have been pure, not gentle and sweet, but it was love. It was the kind of obsessive love that made people fall to their knees and cry for release from its bonds. But it was love.
Four. He is a gentleman. As Southern and perfect as they come. He is everything Alice has ever searched for. All wrapped into the blond, tall, perfectly built vampire Alice has come to find as deep as the dark ocean.
Five. He wouldn't make love to her at first. He was afraid of her. Afraid of how small she was between his hands, of how fragile her neck was when his lips were sliding down it. He couldn't touch her, for fear of causing her pain... Now, this made Alice laugh. As if he could cause her pain.
Six. He wasn't as strong as everyone like to think. His skin may have been impenetrable, but not his feelings, not his view of himself. Small things, small words, could harm him. Sticks and stones couldn't touch his bones, but words would always hurt him.
Seven. He remembered. "I love you, Jasper." Her voice was soft and soprano in his ear.
"How can you love me?" She remembers him shaking his head.
"Because," she can recall telling him. "how can I not love you?"
Eight. Jasper wasn't a killer, Jasper wasn't a bad person. Jasper had had bad luck, yes, but he wasn't, in any way, a mean or spiteful vampire. Jasper was a human. And that was what Alice loved about him.
Nine. Carlisle was his father in all ways. Jasper had never had a father. His father had died in an earlier battle with the Indians. It had been uneventful, anticlimactic. But Jasper had never been able to see another Indian and not feel hate.
Ten. He was set to be married before Maria changed him. Her name was Claire. She was a beautiful, French girl. With flowing black hair, crystal green eyes, and smooth, olive skin. She had come over with her family, met Jasper, and fallen in love.
Eleven. She, Claire, had had a miscarriage.
Twelve. He had never gotten over it. Because Maria, was the one who took her life. She had killed Claire, because the girl was competition. She was the woman that held Jasper's heart, the first woman that Jasper ever told about what he was. And he had kissed her. Resisted her blood. Because he hadn't seen any other way out. He had had to be with her as a human, because it was the only thing he knew. When Maria had set her body, cold and still, in front of Jasper, something inside of him had changed.
Thirteen. When he told Alice his story, he sobbed. His body, large and imposing, had shaken with sobs too large to hold behind his marble lips. He had shuddered and shook, pleaded with her to go back, take it back, make him a man again. He didn't want this. Alice had held him, simply stating that he was all she had ever had.
Fourteen. His love was obsessive, silent, and all consuming. Because that was what he knew.
Fifteen. He wasn't going to go vegetarian until Alice had seen him kill a small human girl. She could remember, vividly, the way Jasper had played with the small form of the little girl. Dancing with her, pretending to care, right before he bent down to kiss her cheek. Instead, he leaned over, and sunk his teeth quickly into her throat. She couldn't look at him for weeks.
Sixteen. He was trapped in himself. Everything he felt was bottled, because if he let out what he was feeling, there wouldn't be any room for what others were thinking. He felt so much, held in more, and was always ready to explode.
Seventeen. Edward was the first person that had talked to him. Edward had walked out into the woods with him. Her bronze haired brother had said two words. "I know." He murmured. From that moment on, they spent their nights in the woods, on the cliffs, in the lake. Talking.
Eighteen. Peter and Charlotte were his only friends besides the family. He hadn't been taught to make friends. He had been taught that friends were harmful, loving, they could tear you down, not bring you up.
Nineteen. Their first wedding was with Carlisle and Esme only. Jasper hadn't wanted anyone to see him. He had been worried about backing out at the alter, scared of what the others would think.
Twenty. Alice loved him more than anything. Plain and simple. She didn't know how think badly of him, she didn't know how to hate him for what he had been made to become. She knew how circumstances could change a person, how they shaped and molded the marble of a vampire's skin. When Alice sat with him at night, she would lay her hands on his shoulders. "How can something so good," Alice remembers asking, "be bad?"
Thanks for Reading and Reviewing. NeverHadDreams