Title - Mood Ring
Chapter - One
Disclaimer - Not my sandbox, just my sandcastle. By that, I mean these characters are not mine. I am just using them, and making not a penny doing it.
Summary - When there is nothing left for Bella, she decided she wants out. Standing in front of the white house, razor blade in hand, she says goodbye the only way she can think of. A bloody good bye. But who cuts their wrists at a vampires house?
Rating- M for adult situations and language. 18+ only.
Warnings- Adult situations, concepts, language themes. Drug and alcohol use, sexual situations, self harm, and some gore. Be warned!
Betas - Beta'd by the darling SnarkySimaril
It was raining. It was always raining, but today the rain seemed to be crying for me. Because once again, I had no tears of my own.
The rain poured down, turning the pristine white snow to ice around me. I just stood there, looking up at the big white ominous house. It hadn't changed. Just like them, it would never change. In one hundred years it would probably be standing here, pristine as the day they built it. They loved this house more than they ever fucking loved me.
"Alice!" I screamed, knowing full well that she wouldn't hear me, but I wanted her to see this. I wanted her to see it, and I wanted him to see it too. The choice was mine. I made up my mind in that very instant, and I concentrated on it. Willing it, wanting it, desperate to trigger a vision.
I wanted them to see what they'd done to me.
"Everything! Everything I ever loved is gone! You left me Edward! And my mother died! And now Charlie is dead! I hate you Edward!" I screamed at no one.
"And you know what?" I said, laughing like a mad woman. "I don't care. I'm not running any more. She can have me."
It was true too. I hoped she would find me laying here in the front yard of the beautiful Cullen Estate, laying like a vampire buffet on the snow.
I swallowed, resolve filling me like the air in my lungs. I drew out the box of razor blades I had found in the kitchen drawer at Jacob's after he let his imprint backhand me and tell me to get the fuck out. My hands were trembling, and the blades fell to the snow, tinkling on the ground against each other like a wind chime. The sound was distant and innocent. A death march, my death march. If the song had a name, I'd call it Razors in the Snow.
All but one fell, but that's all I needed.
"Is this what you fucking wanted?" I bellowed into the night, breathing in the harsh, cold winter air and calling her out, calling her to come to me. "You can fucking have me! I want to die!"
I was laughing hard, hysterically. A laugh that didn't belong to Bella Swan as much as it did to the bastard who broke her.
I was so far beyond broken. I wasn't even good for parts and pieces, couldn't even be scrapped for spare. There was nothing left of my heart to keep me going any more. No mother. No father. No love. My life was like a wormhole, everything got sucked up and disappeared forever.
I couldn't look Jacob in the face. He couldn't even find it in himself to fight for me, for my friendship.
Because when it came to me, there was nothing worth fighting for.
Without hesitation, without pause, I dragged the razor along the length of my arm, from wrist to inner elbow, feeling my flesh part easily. It was a feeling I had come to relish and at one point lived for. Now I would die for it. Die and be dead. Sweet relief indeed.
When I turned to the other arm, the razor slipped, my fingers slick with blood. But something else was keeping me alive now. Madness; sheer, dark, unadulterated madness. I was already losing so much blood, and my mind, but I found the razor again. My hands kept cutting; over and over again, till I fell to my knees. Blood poured from my arms, streaming from my fingertips in a pool around me. I could smell it, and a new wave of nausea hit me as I fell to the ground.
"And she dies as she lived," I whispered, letting death take me. "She dies alone."
And all I saw was red.
Even the raindrops were red.
Pain burst through my body in broken intervals. It started with my wrists, the deep gashes I'd made, my blood spilling like rose petals on the white snow. I bet it was pretty, sad things usually are. But the pain spread...I felt it in my legs, in my stomach, in my neck. Pain, quick and jolting. I felt my body rock forward, but I couldn't stop it. Was I having a seizure? Why wasn't I dead yet?
Is there no release, even in death?
Why can't I die?
Fucking take me already!
I could feel my flesh searing, burning. I could almost smell the smoke as my body turned to ash. I must be in hell. I was burning in Hell. I killed myself and I was going to Hell.
No one would miss me.
There is no one left to miss me.
Time makes no sense when you're dying.
No! Make it stop! I can't take this.
Minutes. Hours. Days. Years. I couldn't tell anymore. I counted the seconds by my beating heart, but it beat too fast, and I couldn't tell any more. I couldn't tell.
I heard the voice through the flames bursting inside me. Angel? Demon?
I didn't know. Did it matter anymore?
"I'm so sorry!" he whispered, the angel that won't let me die. Stupid Angel.
Just let me die! I was screaming, but my voice, like my body, betrayed me.
"Please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I never would..." The Angel was crying now, holding my hand. He spoke his words like a benediction. A mantra. He was begging me.
But I was begging too.
Just kill me.
It just doesn't end! I want to die. Why won't my frail human body die?
There was Hell inside me. It must be my punishment. I killed myself. That's a sin right? A Catholic thing. I'm not Catholic, but maybe they had something right.
Somehow even through this pain I could fucking ramble.
I felt cool fingers dance cross my body in jerky motions. The Angel didn't need to see those. He didn't need to touch them. There were too many. He couldn't heal me. Those scars were everywhere, inside and out, painted with razor blades and blood. I felt ashamed of myself, and I felt sorry for the Angel. Those were mine. He didn't need to see those. Touch those. Feel those. Those were mine.
Though, where he touched, the burn did fade. But it would always find its way back.
Ah! Just make it stop. Please make it stop. Stop!
The Angel had no mercy.
He wouldn't kill me.
Just make it stop. I'm begging. Anything.
But my heart swallowed the fire, stuttering and fighting, struggling against the flames, the Danger. I've always had a stupid heart.
I should never have listened to my stupid heart in the first place.
Just give it up, heart. Just die. You were nearly there anyway.
"Isabella, I'm so sorry. Just please wake up." Jasper pleaded, his cool hand locking into mine.
I gasped, and the indrawn breath brought new meaning to me. I could feel it. I could taste it. Two years worth of dust, and shriveled roses. Two years of pain and torment, and of course the underlying scent of mint, tobacco, and old leather. Who was that?
I was on a table, but then I wasn't. The light blinded me, but I wasn't blinded. I could see the sixty-watt stamp on the bulb, and the filament burning behind the white fogged glass. They really should switch to the curly bulbs. Better for the world and stuff. They were going to be around a while, so they should care.
What was I doing? Oh right...
Somehow, before I could realize how I had gotten there, I had crouched myself into the corner, staring up into his face. What the fuck was he doing here? He did this to me. Why did he do this to me?
"Jasper?" I asked, staring up into an angels face. I remember those angels. My angel family. The ones who pretty much killed me in the first place.
"What did you do!" I screamed. My voice came out like pealing bells, momentarily distracting me from my question. I sounded like music and wind. It was all too confusing.
Jasper dropped to his knees on the other side of the bed. My pyre, for what I assume was the last three days. "I'm so sorry Bella. I found you outside the house, and the blood... I knew it was you before I saw you... but there was just too much. I couldn't stop. I'm weak, I know, I'm sorry!"
I saw his red rimmed eyes and could have cried. Well, not real tears. He had intended to kill me even before I could finish killing me. I had made him do that, drink from a human, and I knew what that did to him. I knew how he struggled, how hard he fought, and I fucked it up. Like everything else, I ruined him too. And really, he was the only vampire that never fucked with me.
"Oh Jasper!" I gasped. "What the hell have I done? I should have known better. It was the Cullen's house, I thought you were all gone. How stupid could I have been? I just thought... I thought she would find me there. Jasper, I am so sorry!" I had only meant to step towards him, but before I realized it, I was kneeling beside him on the bed.
He looked up at me with black eyes, red peeking at the edges. Immediately I understood; he hadn't hunted in days. He had stayed by my side.
My demon angel, begging forgiveness.
I could feel how sorry he was. I could taste it. He wanted me to know.
"What are you sorry for?" he screamed. His eyes shifted to an even more impossible shade of black. His outburst startled me and I cringed away.
"For this. The blood. That was stupid. I didn't know you would be here, if I had known well... I... and I just... I just..." I was stuttering. I was a fucking vampire and I was stuttering.
"What were you doing, Isabella?"
I bristled, involuntarily flying back towards the wall. "I wanted that bitch to find me. I wanted her to kill me too!" I hissed. Jasper winced but never moved. Fuck, I was angry. Really angry. Probably more than the situation called for, but fuck, I couldn't control myself.
He rose slowly to his feet, his hands held at his sides. "Who, Isabella?"
I felt the venom pooling in my mouth as I thought of her. "Victoria."
Jasper took one soft step forward, but I cringed again. Everything was moving at once, hitting me like lightning. The sounds, the tastes, the brilliant rainbows shining from everything. My mind was taking it all in, but I couldn't keep up.
"Isabella, would it be okay if I calmed you?" Jasper asked softly, cocking his head.
I didn't need to think about it. I was panicking and I knew that I was dangerous. I was a newborn vampire, it came with the title. "Please."
I felt it instantly, like a rush of warm water. I relaxed, standing at the wall, feeling the anger melt away. I imagined I should have felt tired, and yet that particular feeling was irrelevant now.
Jasper reached out his hand towards me, nodding his head encouragingly. I took it without thought. He was a part of my past. Something familiar to cling onto, when nothing familiar was left.
"I don't know how you're doing it... but I can hardly feel your bloodlust," he whispered. Immediately, the roaring flame flickered in my throat.
He frowned as he realized his words triggered such a reaction. "Ah, sorry."
"I'm fine, Jasper. I just... I need a minute. I realize that it's important I hunt." Of course I realized that. I'm probably the best informed newborn ever.
He pulled me gently to the bed, urging me to sit. I really didn't feel the need to, but it seemed like the thing you were supposed to do in these awkward situations.
"Do you remember what happened before your change?"
I nodded. I remembered everything.
"Would you like to tell me what happened?" he asked, shooting new waves of calm and encouragement at me.
I laughed and it shocked me, those pealing bells. "Where the fuck do I begin, Jasper?" I asked, shaking my head. My hair seemed longer, thicker.
I wonder what I look like. No, Bella, pay attention.
Jasper smiled, and I realized that this was also new to me. I had never seen him smile past what the situation required, always a sad smile that never reached his eyes. But he was smiling now, encouraging me. He was really beautiful, not an Adonis but an Ares. A warrior. More beautiful than my human eyes could encompass.
"Why don't you start at the beginning? Why did you try to kill yourself?"
I winced, feeling his pang of sorrow laced beneath the calm.
"Well, Jasper," I said, a smile washing over my face. The past, though vivid in my mind, didn't seem to matter anymore. It was like watching a movie. It might make you cry, and it might make you angry, but it wasn't your life. That wasn't my life anymore.
"It all started the day Edward left me..."