Inspired by some brutal RL situations –
And the rain falls down, let it fall to the ground
and the birds don't sing, no they don't make a sound
so I look to the sky
tell me why, tell me why
do they all get to live when I have to die.
The rain beats an uneasy tattoo against the window of the room I share with Alice - a frantic thrumming that seems to mirror my agitated thoughts. My own uneasy expression stares back at me from the window and I turn away, listening to the sounds from the rest of the house.
Alice is downstairs speaking to Esme - discussing the human.
Esme has never even met the child, and to my knowledge, Alice hasn't exchanged two words with her – but already, they're both charmed. Alice already considers the girl her best friend.
She allows her visions to dictate her life, to the exclusion of all common sense.
Befriending a human?
Even coexisting with them is a risk, but to allow one into our home, as Alice is suggesting?
I play her puppet, in many things, but in this situation, I refuse to let her pull my strings. She doesn't understand. Allowing this human girl into our lives will pose too much of a threat. She doesn't understand.
Judging by the sounds of tools clattering on concrete, Rosalie is in the garage, probably tweaking the BMW - her pet-project for this decade. She might be as vapid and conceited as the day is long, and annoying as all-get-out, but Rosalie understands what needs to be done to protect this coven.
Like me, she'll do anything to protect her mate.
The rest of them – Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Edward; even my Alice, my restless dreamer – they can go around playing happy families, but Rosalie and I, we share a kinship in the fact that we don't delude ourselves into thinking that we're anything but a coven – we stay together for the sake of convenience.
Rosalie is the closest thing I have to a sister, though we've never been particularly close. She is fiercely loyal and protective, and I respect her for that. She's the only one who agrees with me on the matter of Edward's little human paramour.
A flash of lighting illuminates the sky, briefly staining the room a violent, electric purple.
Surrounded by the swirling emotions of the people I call my family, it is becoming far too difficult to control my thoughts, to keep from making any concrete decisions that would alert Alice to anything untoward.
Not for the first time, I thank whatever deity will listen that Edward has taken to spending very little time in the house. It's the only positive side-effect of the little human's presence in our lives.
Leaping out of the window, into the pouring rain, I run.
I allow my feet to take me where they will, concentrating on the feeling of the rain on my skin, the wind whipping against my skin. Instinctively, though, I know where I'll end up.
Soon the forest begins to thin and, with her house in view, keeping myself undecided becomes an almost herculean task. It's still too early to risk alerting Alice to anything – she'll see soon enough.
It's a simple task to find the girl's bedroom. I merely have to follow Edward's scent - he's come here almost every night since he returned from Alaska to watch her sleep.
Tonight though, once he returns from hunting, he'll be too preoccupied with the family. His actions regarding the girl's near-death experience in the parking lot where nothing short of idiotic.
Esme of course, was all too willing to dismiss the consequences of his little performance, too interested in the fact that she was convinced that the awkward human was his mate, though fortunately, the rest of the family (bar Alice) was not as forgiving.
They won't be willing to take any actions to resolve the matter, naturally, but their admonishments and Rosalie's verbal evisceration will keep him occupied long enough to allow me to finish whatever I feel the need to do.
I know that I can count on Rosalie to take him to task.
She's the only one who has any inkling of what I plan to do tonight, and I know she could be trusted to keep her thoughts hidden. Alice had seen a brief flash of my intentions earlier, though it was easy enough to write them off as a whim borne of my violent 'upbringing'.
The girl's window opens easily enough, and judging by the scent clinging to the wood, I suspect Edward might have something to do with that.
As I slide silently into the room, I'm hit by the over-powering scent of her. All consuming, flooding my brain with heat and want. The scent of her blood is so strong, and so sweet, that I can practically taste it, and for the first time in too long, I don't have to swallow down the rush of venom that pools in my mouth. I can take what I want.
Her hair fans across her pillow and, in sleep, she looks almost beautiful - pale and ethereal.
Suddenly, she shifts, turning her head to the side and exposing her neck, and I don't bother to suppress the low growl that builds in my throat as I watch her pulse beat just below her fragile skin.
Seeing her - so pale and defenseless, her heart-beat pounding in my ears, her scent seeming to invade all my senses – it's hard to maintain any sense of civilization.
I move swiftly, lowering myself onto the bed next to her, propping myself up on my elbow so that my body is angled towards her.
Snaking one arm around her waist, I pull her to me, using my free hand to cover her mouth and tilt her head, baring her neck.
Her eyes fly open and lock on my face, and she gasps against my hand. I smirk at her before lowering my head and trailing my nose against her neck, savoring her intoxicating scent. "No screaming, little one," I croon into her ear, placing a soft kiss into her hair.
I can feel the fear radiating from her as she struggles in my grasp, her palms burning into my chest as she pushes vainly against me.
Amusing, that this chit presumes to take my Alice away from me, endanger her. Her fear spikes as I chuckle, low in my throat and it's almost as exhilarating as the scent of her blood.
She kicks out, and, taking advantage of the movement, I move quickly to settle between her legs. Her body is like an open flame under me, and every movement grinds her body into mine.
I'm still chuckling as my teeth pierce the delicate layer of skin and her blood floods my mouth, made impossibly sweeter by her fear.
My eyes drift closed as burst after burst of her life flows down my throat, and my only thought was that I don't want this to end.
She rakes her nails down my back, looking for purchase and finding none.
When she realizes that it's useless, her fingers move to twine in my hair, trying to pull my mouth from her throat.
I felt her pulse weakening and I clutch her tighter to me, hearing the satisfying snap of her ribs giving way under my grasp.
I'm still laughing when two sets of arms grab me and pull me from her beautiful, lifeless corpse.
It's short, and it's bare. Interpret Jasper's actions as you will – interpret all of it as you will.
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