SM owns Twilight. Emimen Owns Love the Way You Lie.
If you haven't seen the video or heard the song, I suggest you do so before reading. Really easy to find on You Tube. Eminem Love the Way you Lie. Watch. Come back and read.
I have to thank lots of girls. HippieStarr, Megubot, Dee from TwiFanFic Addicts, Khristen from Facebook. Mo'Reading, PrettyKittyFF...Gosh I hope I didn't forget anyone! But they all pre-read and encourged and all that good stuff! SO enjoy!
LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE.
"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." -Bob Marley
Edward Cullen. He is my everything. My entire world. I've loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him. He is so smooth. His every move, every word seems perfect. When I see him, it's as if I am blinded by his charisma. "He's so cool," those three words are all I can think. I met him at a house party. He was in all his glory. He had on a long sleeve t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up, exposing the tattoo's covering his arms, even a few on his neck. They are colorful and compliment his smile. He pulled his pants up every few seconds the belt nothing more than an accessory.
I saw him across the room, and he smiled at me. It was like this light inside of him. I've been on fire for him ever since that moment. The future seemed so bright on that day. I don't know why I'm so surprised that things turned so evil. When or how. I try to run, but I don't ever want leave.
He is possessive. Almost to a fault, and I thrive on it, and despise him for it. He suffocates me, I freak, we fight, we make up, he suffocates, I freak, we fight, we make up. It's a viscous cycle. His temper is uncontrollable sometimes. So is mine. I'm extremely jealous. I think we are both certifiable.
I can't tell you half the things we fight about. We just do. It's just the way we are.
Everyone tells me to leave. See, those fights were yesterday, today's a different day. We say things and do things we don't mean. All I know is I love him too much to walk away. We destroy each other, but they don't understand how we can't be without one another. I love him. When it's good, it's amazing. When it's bad, it's devastating.
We share a one bedroom apartment in Philadelphia. It's in a duplex, thankfully it's a decent neighborhood. Mostly Irish.
Edward gets a lot of shit for being with me, just because I'm Italian. I don't think of myself as Italian. I don't think of myself of much of anything. I don't have much of a family. That isn't true. Edward is my family. It'd be nice to say that I was from a huge Italian family. That my father yelled at me in Italian, that we had huge pasta dinners, that the house was full of laughter and boisterous family. That I had these huge ties to like the catholic church, but I didn't have any of it. It was never my life. Ever.
It isn't the nicest apartment but it's home. There are holes in the wall from places he has punched or times I threw things aimed at his head. Sheets hang as curtains. Olive green shag carpets. An old beat up couch. I try to make it homey, but it's no use. We party too much. I'd rather spend money on beer or pills than home decor. We'd just end up throwing it at one another. He can make me so angry sometimes, I know I only get that upset because of how much I love him. If I didn't care so much I wouldn't freak out as bad.
Edward works at a garage fixing up cars. I work as a cashier at Family Dollar. To say we live paycheck to paycheck would be an improvement. It's more like we steal from Peter to pay Paul. One month we manage to pay the electric the next cable.
Today is a good day. I wake up with the sun on my bare back. I can see Edward sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette in the living room from the open door. He looks so good with no shirt. I get tingly just looking at his bare chest. His pecks are slightly defined and he has the hottest six pack I have ever seen, while still being very slender. All of his tattoo's visible.
The one that reads Bella across his stomach used to be my favorite. Three months ago, after a huge fight I left. Edward was so pissed, he got RIP Rot in Pieces, underneath it. I keep bugging him to do something about the Rot in Pieces to get it covered up, but we don't really have the extra money.
I have Edward tattooed below my belly button. I wouldn't dream of removing it or covering it up. That's the big difference between Edward and I. He acts out of anger.
"Baby," I call to him. He looks up at me and smiles. He owns me. My heart flutters. He puts out his cigarette in one of the empty beer bottles and makes his way over to me.
"Hey," he says, placing kisses along my bare back. I roll over, exposing my breasts to him. He smirks and his lips move to my chest. I moan and arch my back into him. "You are so perfect," he whispers against my skin. The heat from his breathe sends a shiver through my spine.
"Mmmmm, I love you," manages to escape before he kisses me.
"You can't ever leave me, Bella," his tone is pleading.
"I can't," I assure him. His mouth is all over. Sucking my neck. Marking me. He likes to show the world I am his.
And I am. I could never belong to anyone else.
"I'd be so lost without you."
Roughly his hands push my legs apart. Sex is never gentle. Always hard, rough, and filled with need.
He pushes into me with a force that knocks the headboard into the wall. His hands push my knees up and his hips continue to thrust. His fingers dig into the flesh of my thighs. The palm of my hand pushes against his chest because it's too hard, too fast. I always feel the need to fight him.
He always gives it right back. It's just the way we lie.
Later that day, it's awful. We never have the good for long.
Alice calls and tells me about some girl Edward has been rumored to be getting a little to close to. How close? I don't know. Does it matter? No one should ever get the idea that my boyfriend is screwing around on me. It's my jealousy.
My hands are shaking, my heart is racing a mile a minute, and I am pacing the apartment waiting for him to get back because I want to kick his ass. I've been calling him, and he hasn't answered. Automatically, I think it's because of this girl. My mind runs rampant with images and stories of what he is doing, with her. Whoever she is.
I hear a key turn in the lock and walk as fast as I can to the door. I pull it open, letting it slam against the wall. There is already a round hole from the door knob.
"What the fuck is Alice doing calling me to tell me about you and some slut?" I yell at him.
"What? I don't know!" he yells back.
"Fuck you don't! Don't you dare play fucking stupid! People don't make shit up, Edward! Who the hell is she?" He slams the door shut. "TELL ME!" I scream. I shove him. He falls back into the door.
"Don't start this shit, Bella! Don't fucking start!"
I punch him. "Answer me!" I punch him again. He holds my wrists and pushes me backwards. My back hits the wall and his fist goes into the wall inches from my head. I don't even flinch.
"If you are talking about Lauren, she told me she wanted to fuck me."
"You are fucking psychotic."
"You didn't answer the question! Why don't you ever just answer the god damn questions!"
"NO! No, I didn't fuck her! I might as well have with the way you are freaking out!"
I slap him, but it's not just a slap. My nails scrap across his face.
He grabs me by my shoulders and pushes me. I fall to the ground. Now I am really losing it.
"Don't you ever fucking put your hands on me like that!" I yell. I pick up a beer bottle and throw it.
"Jesus Christ!" He ducks, and the glass shatters against the wall.
"I can't even stand to look at you!" I yell.
"Then fucking leave!"
His hands go to the coffee table and he flips it over. The ashtrays, half full beer bottles, blue and purple pills, and week old mail fall to the ground with a crash.
The rage over takes us both.
Edward is like a tornado. He whirls in destroying everything in his path.
Me, I'm like a volcano. You don't know when or why, I just erupt.
"You asshole! You can't hit me and shit!"
"You fucking hit me all the time!"
"I'm done with you!" I tell him. I think I mean it this time. "This is fucking over Edward! OVER!"
I go to the bedroom and slam the door behind me. I start pulling clothes out of the dresser and tossing them into a bag. Edward throws the door open and grabs my arm.
"Stop! Your fucking hurting me!" I tell him, trying to get out of his grip.
"You don't get to leave! You can't leave me!"
"Watch me, Edward! Like I want to stay with a piece of shit that shoves girls and has tattoo's saying to Rot in Pieces!"
I put a few more things in the bag, and get outside. I stand on the sidewalk out of breathe and tears run down my face.
In all honesty. I thrive off these battles. In some screwed up way, I know he loves me.
Here we go again. "Mother fucker!" I yell when Bella slams the front door. I should let her go. All we do is fight. I look at the wall and know she doesn't really want to leave, because she didn't take the picture of her mother off the wall.
I feel so ashamed. I can't let her go. I swing open the front door and she stands on the steps of the duplex her back facing me. "Bella, Baby, I'm so sorry. Please come back inside." Her hand reaches up and wipes away tears I only assume are there. "Please." I say again, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "I'll never stoop so low again."
She turns to look at me, I can see the fog from her breath as she lets out a shaky sigh. "You always say that," she says calmly.
"I mean it, baby. I do. I love you so fucking much it makes me crazy," I tell her. It's the only thing that makes sense. No one would willingly stay in a relationship with these fights every day. Every fucking day we fight. Not always this bad. The bigger fights seem to happen one or two times a month. It doesn't make sense to stay in a relationship this destructive. It's like your burning down the house while you're still in it.
I sound sincere, because I am. I don't want to fight with her like this. It tears me apart. I pick up her bag and grab her wrist. I hardly have to pull on her to make her follow me back inside.
"I got something...for you," I tell her as we step over the glass from the beer bottle.
"What?" she asks me curiously.
A guy with his shit together would have something...I don't know...how many guys bring home pills for their girlfriends? I mean I should be giving her like jewelry or some shit. But we aren't like that. I bring her home fucking pain killers.
I reach in my pocket and take out the cellophane wrapped pills. I put them in her hands and she smiles at me.
"Banana's... my favorite," she tells me with a kiss to my cheek taking the pills and noisily unwrapping them.
Yeah, it's fucked up. We are a broken record. Fight. Make up. Fight. Make up. Love. Hate. We are fucked up. I know how fucked up it is that I know Bella would rather have five ten milligram percocets for fifty dollars more than anything else. More than jewelery or something nice for the apartment. Just anything to numb her from the pain of her past. The pain we cause each other.
She pops one and chases it with an old bottle of water that survived the fight. Funny thing is, I don't even know what started this most recent war. Either way, I start cleaning up.
I promise Bella to fix the holes in the walls. She says I need to, that she wants to fix the place up and have family over. She mentions it be nice to have my parents over for dinner once and while.
My parents live in the city. They struggle to make ends meet, just like my entire life, but they are well respected for being such hard workers. My father Carlisle, works for the steamfitters union. His parents are off the boat from Ireland. Once I moved out, they moved in so my mom could help care for them. She needs a break.
I know I wasn't an easy kid to raise. I was always in trouble. I was arrested a few times. My father still likes to tell me how much money he spent on court fee's and still worries about me. I know she does. My brother Emmett though, he is the golden boy. Always got good grades, attended college at Drexel to become a gym teacher.
I went to vo-tech in high school. Learned how to work on cars then continued on to trade school. I still spend most of my money on drugs and booze. My mom isn't stupid she knows what Bella and I are like. So, yeah she worries.
Bella won't fucking talk about her parents. Her father left when she was a baby, then her mother killed herself drinking and driving when she was twelve. Since then, she's spent most of her time living with her grandmother and aunts. When she acted up or got in trouble they just passed her back and forth with words like "I can't handle her," and "I can't control her, you need to take her."
During her childhood, she spent most of the time taking care of her mother who was mostly drunk or high. She had to breath into the car to start it because of all the DUI's her mother got. Then she died. Her grandmother and aunts didn't know what the hell to do with her other than pass her along.
I know why she is so fucked up. So, I take care of her. My parents love her because that's what she fucking needs. I love them for being the loving people that they are. It just confuses me more about why I am the way I am. Why I am so fucked up.
It's not like Bella brings it out in me. I have always been easily angered. I have always started trouble or found trouble or fuck I am trouble. I wasn't raised differently than Emmett and I was raised a whole lot stabler than Bella. Yet here we are both just as equally fucked up.
I know this is the first time she's ever felt at home. When she tells me she is leaving, I have no idea where she thinks she is going.
"Where were you going to go?" I ask her.
She chuckles and looks down. "Your parents."
I kiss the side of her head. "They'd take you in a heartbeat if I ever let you get that far." Which I knew there was no way in hell I would.
Tonight I look at her, I love her to fucking death. It's so overwhelming I don't even know where to channel it. It gets out of control then. It turns into bitterness because I can't function with the overwhelming feelings.
Days pass...happily. We function like a somewhat normal couple for fourteen days.
I find trouble or trouble finds me. Either way. I always screw up. I got fucking drunk and fucked Lauren. I know the words gotten back to Bella. I've destroyed us in one night. I didn't want to, I just couldn't even see straight.
When I get home, the door is ajar. I push it open slowly. The place is turned upside down. She looks at me from the couch. Her eyes are red and if looks could kill I'd be six feet under.
"Baby, please let me," I start before she comes at me. Her fist hit me rapidly, pounding against my chest.
"Fuck you! How could you fucking do that to me?" she screams.
"I'm sorry, Bella!" I try to grab her arms to stop her from hitting me. Tears fall down her face as she yells how awful I am. How she is going to kill me. Leave me. When I manage to restrain her hands she starts using her feet.
I hold her from behind around her waist, pinning her arms to her side as she kicks back at me.
"I'm fucking leaving! We are over."
"NO! Bella! You can't fucking leave me!"
"Go fuck Lauren! Go be with Lauren!" she fights against me. I pick her up and take her to the bedroom.
Rage ignites inside me. She can't fucking leave me. I can't breathe without her.
I try to explain it wasn't my fault. That I was too drunk. That I don't want fucking Lauren. I see her bags are packed. Even the picture of her mom is gone off the wall. This isn't some over dramatic shit. She really intends to leave. That can't fucking happen.
I throw her down on the bed. "You can't fucking leave!" I yell at her.
She scurries back on the bed and cowers away from me. "If you try to fucking leave I'll tie you to the bed and light the house on fire!" I don't know what the fuck is coming out of my mouth.
"What are you going to do? Stand there and watch me burn?"
I chuckled darkly.
I had no fucking idea what I thought I was going to do.
Fire. Smoke. Darkness.
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