Summary: Edward lost his legs from the knee down prior to receiving immortality thanks to the tragic day during World War 1 due to a landmine incident. Though it was a century ago, all the details were etched in his brain like a broken recording bringing about feelings of inadequacies. He was a vampire and therefore supposed to be agile and yet he felt he was half a man. Bella was devastated by the man she loved. He was a charmer, with his blond hair and blue eyes: he looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Who knew he would wind up being so abusive? Once she found out she was pregnant, she escaped to make a new life for herself. Can two damaged people be brought back to life by love? Edward like you have never seen him. Slow burn. Rated M for sweet lemons. This story completely draws you in and will not let you go.

Chapter One

As Edward lay on his divan, the feeling of melancholy washed over him like wildfire. He raked his hand on his golden colored hair with desperation and sadness. This was an all too familiar thought that kept creeping up on him during the absence of activities during the weekend. Why did he have to feel incomplete and lonely? He was a Vampire after all. As strong, skilled and invincible as he was, there was one glaring power he did not possess and didn't think he could ever have. Agility is something he cannot associate himself with. Feelings of inadequacy, being half a man, often haunted and tortured his thoughts. What a bitter irony as far as his present state was concerned.

After a century of trying, believing that the ghost of his past, his physical defect and insurmountable insecurities were hidden in the deepest pit of discarded abyss. Buried and hopefully forgotten.

Thanks to the tragic day during the first World war when he lost both of his legs from the knee down during a landmine incident. It was a century ago but all details were etched in his brain like broken recording. All too familiar pain enveloped him as got up and moved slowly to his stereo, he slipped a CD inside the player as he waited for the music to begin. The brand new, state of the art stereo was a gift from his adoptive parents, Carlisle and Esme for his birthday. Sure, he loved it and thanked them for it, but unfair as it may seem, he was just shooting for a more inexpensive gift, knowing too well he would never get it. A good working pair of legs would be nice, he thought to himself. As the music of U2 drifted on the stereo, one of his favorite contemporary bands, it began soothing his nerves for the moment.

He ambled over to stand by the window, unsupported by the hand crutches he had grown to loathe, a frown spreading across his pale white face. He checked his reflection on the glass window. Normal looking, almost human, actually. He laughed a little. Dressed in a tan sweater and dark slacks, he exuded the persona of a normal teenage kid, full of life, promise and screaming libido. Unsuspecting individuals wouldn't be able to tell the difference between him next to a regular Joe. Fitting and blending in is what they, the Cullen's, did best.

Sliding the window open, a gush of air hit his face and he welcomed the fresh scent of the nearby oak tree swirling around him, massaging his acute senses. This was one of those days he felt damned, as much as he tried to lock the memory key away…. It surfaced to torture him again. That ill-fated day when his life was turned upside down…

Edward's Point of View-Flashback

I shuddered at the memory of the tragic day, it was 1918. I received a letter, the draft that would take me to the war. With hands shaking I opened the envelope and read the orders that I would have to report for duty in one week.

My assignment was to go to France, the western front. My father, Edward Sr. and mother Elizabeth, looked at me with desperation and fear, knowing that it may be the last time they would see me. A sense of dread blanketed me at that point but a sense of purpose also grew stronger every second that passed. As their only son, I was painfully aware that I may not come back, and they would have to live in sorrow and grief of never seeing me again.

At seventeen, I had yet to go and venture the world; I had not even had a girl, a relationship. I could sense that my parents hoped to see me with a wife and children someday, but that would have to wait. I had not met the girl who I wanted to be with anyway. All this could be put on hold until I came back.

Upon my deployment, I was flown to the western front immediately. After several weeks of introduction to my battalion, orientation of my field assignment and practicing with various weapons, I was ready. The US expeditionary forces were to report under General John J Pershing. The war was fought in mostly trenches; I was familiar with that after my rather quick training in that area.

I was not a very religious person but with the battle raging and my fellow soldier dying in front of me, I started praying in my head, asking for protection and guidance. My commander ordered us to move across enemy lines when the left side of the flank was taken out. Serious blast and ear splitting rapid fire was all I could hear when the order was given to start our advancement. As I stepped under heavy fire, I crisscrossed the field with confidence I didn't feel.

My gear was heavy behind my back and my rifle weighty in my tired hands as I took the left side of the field with several soldiers I had come to respect. It was too late when I realized that I had stepped on a landmine. It all happened so fast, I could only vaguely remember the explosion, the ringing in my ears, the sparks flying from under me and the fragments of my lower limbs sprawled on the ground.

I could barely remember trying to move while lying on the ground, feeling my legs where they used to be and being hauled away to safety by a comrade. The last things I can remember before I blacked out were the shouts and curses of medics lifting me to a waiting truck to get me back to base.

I may have been out for several days under heavy anesthesia and painkillers because the next thing I knew, I was back in the states, at Chicago hospital. I was under the care of Dr. Carlisle Cullen. From what I gathered, I coded several times. The massive loss of blood during the amputation process was another problem that caused several cardiac arrests.

During my first week at the hospital, I forged a deep friendship with Dr. Cullen. I admired his professionalism, his knowledge of my condition and his deep compassion. I felt deep in my bones that he could sense my hopelessness and despair. My father and mother visited me every day and stayed for a long time to bring me letters from friends and relatives, they read the me the paper and just sat with me while my mother would hold my hands and my father would gaze at me with love, kindness and pity. PITY, I was not ready for.

On my second week of confinement, I developed a chest infection that resulted in another cardiac arrest. Dr. Cullen was not on duty that moment and after a series of CPR by the attending staff, I was pronounced dead at 10:58pm.

I awakened lying on a tiny bed in a small apartment. The absence of pain was very surprising considering I could see that I still didn't have both my legs from the knee down. The pain that I'd grown accustomed to in the past week was replaced by a different ache, a searing, burning thirst in the pit of my stomach and in the back of my throat. I was also acutely aware that all my senses were heightened, for I could clearly see each and every dust particle on the bedside table, the blinding light coming from the lamp on the table; I could distinctly hear sounds for what seemed to be a mile away and thoughts of people I couldn't see came flooding in on me. As I was marveling on my newly discovered ability, I heard a distinct thought of a person next to me.

That was when I caught sight of Dr. Cullen; even without speaking I heard what he was thinking. He was lonely and very much conflicted with his decision of turning me. He turned me into what? I hurled myself out of the bed to attack Carlisle except I couldn't reach him the way I wanted to; I realized that I was still missing both legs. Somehow, my brute power and determination, coupled with my fear and anger, compensated for the loss and I got to him while dragging the rest of my body. He did not try to run or try to protect himself from my assault, he merely tried to subdue me. When he succeeded and I was calm enough, he began telling me the events leading to that day.

He explained to me that he began his shift at 11 P.M., his first visit was my room, where he found my mother and father weeping next to an empty bed. I had been taken to the morgue after several attempts to bring me back. He wanted to see for himself my final condition and to pay his last respects when he felt a faint pulse, so faint that there was no time to think logically, he reacted on instinct. He bit me and he immediately took me home when nobody was looking. I was out for close to three days. Carlisle stayed by my side throughout my whole transformation, he explained to me that with the turn, all of my abilities were enhanced. The revelation left me dumbfounded. I couldn't think straight. Me, a vampire? What in the world am I going to do now?

The only regrettable fact was Carlisle's inability to alter or repair my amputation. The perk of being a Vampire was the capacity to repair bodily damage that happened during transition. Given that my limbs were gone, I was set the way I am. However, Carlisle justified that there were ways to get me on my feet again with the use of prosthesis, crutches and other walking aids. I was not concerned about my legs at that very moment. I asked him about my parents, would I ever see them again? I knew the answer before I got the question out of my mouth. This will be the end of my existence as far as my parents were concerned. To them, I was dead and gone.

The burning in my throat made me scream with pain and fury. Carlisle hurriedly told me as I was a vampire, I was craving for blood, and blood alone would quench my thirst or hunger from now on. Carlisle knew what I was thinking, killing humans was not an option and not what I signed up for. Carlisle introduced a concept that he experimented on that works- drinking animal blood as a substitute to human blood.

We went for our first hunt together that day. With me riding on his back, hunting was an effort since I couldn't walk. We spotted a herd of deer in the nearby forest; he left me on the forest ground while he attacked the herd with utmost proficiency. He pounced one with the grace of a lion, without making the slightest sound. He brought the kill to me where I devoured it with little effort, instinct taking over. Our ensuing hunting expeditions became much easier as I learned to use my hands as a substitute to my missing lower limbs.


Carlisle continued to work at the hospital. At night, we would sneak in the prosthetic department and we would work on getting the right prosthesis for me. During the days that followed, I familiarized myself with the walking aids. No discomfort for me since I did not feel any pain. I did not expend energy on walking at all. I was just unhappy with the fact that I needed these damn aids to be able to get around. The amputation, as Carlisle had explained, was not done beautifully, some of the bones were not cut with precision, with some jutting out awkwardly. Repairs could not be done since I was set with whatever was left during my transition. Tough luck!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A/N: This is my first story….ever! I am just a reader before I developed this idea/story in my head and it won't go away so I had to do something about it. Let me know what you think… should I keep writing? Lol

I can take criticisms but please make it constructive. I would love to hear feedbacks. Thanks for reading!