People are dying in the close knit community of Forks, Washington. Does the new kid, outcast Edward Cullen, have something to do with it? Or is there something more going on in this small town? Can Bella Swan figure out the connection? Or will she be the next victim?

Angel AN - First off I want to thank my fic wifey PunkFox for going on this journey with me and for her patience while I write my bits. Punky Baby, I would have been able to do this without you. You complete me. Thank you to TwiReaderAbi for her awesome beta skills and telling us exactly how it it. Thanks to PrettyPeens for Proof reading and FrecklesFiction for Pre-reading.

Punk A/N- OMG this story has been a long time in the making! Thank you to my Angel! Wifey I have found a soulmate in all things horror! Thank you for telling me I'm not crazy for loving things all bloody and gore. Abi, Pretty, Freckles, you guys have taken our lil story and made it readable for all. Thank you for sticking with us!

This story is NSFW and is rated M for extreme and graphic violence and lemonny action if you are not 17 then please close your browser and don't continue reading. If you a squimish or have issues with violent murder then I also suggest you do not read on but if you want something different then read on and welcome to a bumpy ride.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Twilight and all its characters belong to the genius Stephanie Meyer, thanks to one freaking amazing dream she had.


But, had they lived very, very long lives, they could not have expected nor would they have wished to see as much of the mad and macabre as they were to see that day.

Narrator, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

Saturday Jan 30, 2010

The waves lap at the sand of a desolate beach, the sound of water rhythmically caressing the soft sand, filling the night air. A full moon is lazily rising in the night sky, illuminating a couple partially dressed on the sands. Sam Uley and his girlfriend Emily Call are partaking in some much needed alone time. They had been at a party in town that broke up early, and decided to indulge in the privacy of the darkened beach at a time of night they knew they would be free to do what they please.

Emily had always joked about them having sex in a public place, and tonight the stars seemed to have aligned for them to make their little fantasy come true. They are both slightly intoxicated, not enough to be considered drunk, but just enough that their inhibitions are slightly bend-able, flexible if you will. Sam pulls a joint out of his pocket as they get out of the car. They normally didn't partake in such activities, but he wants to make sure nothing stops Emily from going along with what he is sure will happen. His dick is already pulsing with anticipation.

She scopes out the area around the beach and after seeing no one around Emily knows full well that nothing will stop her from making this come true. She uses her feminine ways to tease and taunt Sam, wrestling around with him on the beach until she has him on his back. She abruptly plants a no nonsense kiss on his lips and moves swiftly away from him and toward the ebbing tide. The movement shocks Sam as he is hopeful that they are finally on their way to making this happen. He opens his eyes at the sound of Emily's giggle to find her pulling her small tank top over her head as she wads in to the dark and torrid waters. The air outside is unusually warm for this time of year but the water is still freezing cold.

As he watches the moonlight shine off her naked back, he calls out to her, "Emily! Damn it, get out of there before you catch a cold, you crazy woman!"

Emily giggles turning to look at him, her arms crossed demurely over her naked chest pressing her breasts together. Sure Sam had seen her naked flesh plenty of times, but it is all part of the game of seduction. She never wants Sam to think of her as "easy", to think of her like the Jessica Newton's and Lauren Mallory's of their school.

She gives him a half smile and raises an eyebrow in challenge, "Make me."

"Oh, oh, oh," Sam chuckles at her challenge. He pulls his body up from the sand slowly, tilting his head at her for a moment before smoothly running the short distance into the water. She lets out a light shriek as his muscular arms wrap around her.

When they're nose to nose, he feels the shivers coming off of her. "Now you're going to get it." He promises in a whisper.

She breaks the kiss he lays on her as she giggles uncontrollably.; He picks up her legs to wrap them around his waist and slowly turns their bodies,to make their way back out of the water. Coming to a stop at the red blanket he had laid out especially for them, he lowers himself to his knees and gently lays her out before him. Her body shimmering in the moonlight as if she is his own personal siren of the sea.

His lips don't leave her body as he trails them across every part of her exposed skin. He settles himself carefully between her legs, making sure not to put too much of his weight on her. Sam is stocky even for his youthful seventeen years while Emily is small and dainty in build, but they fit together like pieces of the same puzzle.

Emily's hands grips onto Sam's shoulders as he comes to a stop, hovering over her chest. Her eyes open as she looks up at him, only to find him staring back at her with a Cheshire cat grin across his face.

She raises her eyebrow at him as she taunts, "What are you waiting for there? Get to it." She wants to be commanding as anticipation of what's to come is coursing through her veins.

With that simple sentence; Sam dives in between her breasts, squeezing the sides together trapping his lips between them as he laps at her skin. The sudden movement and tickle of his licking causes Emily to curl her body in a ball and burst out in a fresh string of giggles that float through the silent, still air around them.

Emily tries to push Sam off halfheartedly, but instead he moves down her body bringing her cut-off jean shorts off with him. He looks at her naked legs thinking, even hoping, that she isn't wearing panties. The thought alone nearly making him explode in his board shorts, but a quick glance into the shorts he still has in his hands reveal her bright pink thong tangled in the material.

He throws the jeans to the side of them on the blanket and opens her legs back up to him, lowering his head to bring her wetness right to the front of him. He doesn't bother with any playing around, pointing his tongue and lapping at her folds immediately. It's clear to him from the wetness hitting his tongue that her body is already prepared and ready for him. He teases her with one last flick of his tongue to her clit before rising back up her body.

He rises up, moving her legs further apart so he can comfortably thrust right into her, but Emily has different plans.

She shakes her head at him as he nips at her jaw line with his teeth lightly.

"No," It is breathy as she tries to form a complete sentence. "I am not getting sand where it shouldn't be."

She pushes him up off of her until he is sitting back on his haunches. She then gives him a look that could have make a priest spontaneously combust as she flips her body around and rises up on all fours.

She looks at him coyly over her shoulder, "Like this."

"Oh shit." Is all Sam can mutter under his breath, as he takes in the sight of his girlfriend before him. "You are….so fucking…..hot." He can't hold himself back from playfully slapping her ass, making her shriek in unexpected pleasure.

He wastes little time in lining himself up behind her. Grabbing her hip with one hand to steady her and moving the head of his cock through her folds with the other. Her wetness allows him to slide back and forth slickly, without resistance. He thrust his hips at the right moment, slamming against her ass as he pushes into her.

"Oh shit!" Emily groans at the feeling of Sam's cock entering her so powerfully. She's glad that no one is around and she doesn't have to hold herself back. There is a freedom there in the expansive quiet of night. It's so much more liberating and Sam's excitement is heightened at the sound of her unhindered moans.

Her head falls back against Sam's shoulder as she rises up on to her knees. Sam's hands move from her hips to wrap around her body holding her to him tighter. His hands massaging her breasts roughly, stopping to pinch and tug at her nipples. He thrusts in short smooth movements as his mouth is latched onto her neck. She is sure to have a mark that she would have to hide from her parents later, but in the throes of pleasure she can't find it in her to care.

"Fuck Sam. Harder. Fuck me harder, baby!" Emily pants out, knowing she is already close, her body already coiling up. Something about them doing this outside, where anyone could stumble upon them has lit the fire inside of her.

Sam begins pulling out in longer strokes and pushes into her harder and harder. Emily takes one of his hands that has been pulling on her tits and trails it down her body. They reach her clit and with her hand on top of his , she rubs the tips of his fingers over her swollen nub.

Sam's feral grunts are low in her ear. "Fuck baby, you like that dontcha? You like it rough." Sam begins rambling off things against her skin and it's just enough to set her off.

Her muscles clench around his cock, sending him into his own release. "Oh fuck….shit…..ahhhhhh!" Sam grunts and groans through his own release, slamming into his girlfriend's tightness one last time, before letting her milk him dry.

As he catches his breath, Sam pulls out of Emily swiftly and releases her gently to collapse on the blanket. He reaches over and tugs the corner of the blanket, wiping himself off hastily before collapsing next to her.

Emily grins up at Sam lovingly. "That was so hot. We definitely need to do it again sometime."

"Well baby, give me a little recovery time here and I'll be up for it again." He promises her, smiling eagerly.

Emily's huff's of laughter are the only thing that can be heard around them. She is sprawled out across the blanket completely sated, with a smile across her face and her eyes closed. She is enjoying the feeling of naughtiness that washes over her at the idea of laying naked outside, slick sweat on her skin as the evidence of what had just transpired between them.

Sam and Emily are blissfully unaware that a short distance from them, a hunter is waiting in anticipation for his own thrills. It has taken all of his willpower to not throw his blade at them while they were still fucking.

Patience, he thinks.

"I gotta piss, be right back babe." Sam says giving her a peck on the forehead as he gets up from the ground.

He makes his way, still naked, into the nearby bushes. Sam's head falls back and his eyes close and he lets out a soothing sigh as he's finally able to relieve himself. His eyes pop open as he hears a rustling of the leaves before him. He is a little shocked when from the darkness of the bushes around him he sees the reflection of the full moon bouncing off what looks like the blade of a very sharp knife.

"What the-?" Sam whispers to himself as he tries to figure out what he is seeing.

Instinctively he stumbles backwards as a dark figure steps closer to him.

"What the fuck dude?" Sam asks angrily, realizing that this sick fuck has been watching them, hidden in the bushes like a Peeping Tom the whole time. What Sam is even more frightened by is that the intruder is wearing a hockey mask. "Who are you suppose to be? Jason Vorhees?"

Without a word the masked stranger stalks closer and closer to Sam. The killer looks at the fear flashing like lightning in Sam's eyes and savors the feeling of excitement. It has been so long since he has felt the rush of the hunt and he has missed it immensely. Finally he is going to feel the satisfyingly sweet stickiness of warm blood as it washes over his hands. The fear gripping at Sam's intestines makes him turn and run like the hunted animal he has become.

"Em, fucking run!" Sam screams to his girlfriend, who was still lying on the beach, as his feet hit the soft sand.

Sam only makes it a few steps in her direction before he is violently hit on the back of the head by a hard object. He stumbles and falls face first in the sand, pushing at the ground in an attempt to get up and away from whoever is after him. A warm trickle of blood is cascading its way down Sam's back from his head wound when strong fingers grab his hair and yanks his head forcibly backwards.

"This is it," the killer thinks, as a smile spreads over his face under the hockey mask. The sheer elation spreading through his limbs, as Sam's dread becomes noticeable, driving him forward.

Sam tries to scream out in warning to Emily again but nothing comes out as the blade starts cutting into his throat. Emily looks up to see what appears to be someone holding on to Sam's hair, shocking red blood flowing from his newly acquired neck wound. She can't be sure what she is seeing with nothing but the moon illuminating the area; she knows that it looks all kinds of wrong and her growing fear makes the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

"Stop fucking around Sam!" Emily screams, hoping that this is just a bad joke being played on her, but every cell in her body is screaming for her to run. Sam knows how paranoid she gets when she smokes pot and, for a second, Emily thinks it's just the hallucination of that paranoia.

The killer jerks Sam's head back harder, eliciting a gurgle of pain, as he pulls the blade slowly across his throat cutting into his skin deeper. Euphoria cascades over his body as the first rivulet of blood runs over his fingers making him grumble with pleasure, and he plunges the knife in deeper severing the main artery completely. Blood is spouting out of Sam's neck slower and slower as his heartbeat starts failing, sprinkling the white sand in the crimson fuel of life.

"Nooooo!" Emily screams, immediately placing her hand over her mouth in horror and regret; Regret that she's reminded the crazed killer of her existence. Scrambling to get up from the blanket that Sam had laid out, she tries to convince her frozen muscles to start running.

The killer pulls Sam's head back looking at his lifeless ashen face in triumph; enjoying the gaping wound for a second, before turning to a naked petrified Emily. He stands staring at her, hoping that she'll up the ante and start running. Hunting is so much better when they think they have a chance to get away, he thinks, as he takes a slow booted step forwards and throws Sam's lifeless naked body to the ground.

Run, Bitch!

He almost starts laughing out loud when Emily turns and runs down the moonlit beach screaming. "Someone help us!"

The sight of Sam's dead crumbled body lying on the sand is the catalyst that shocks Emily's body out of its frozen state. She sets off running in no specific direction, just running. She runs until the muscles in her thighs scream in pain and her lungs feel like they're on fire, but keeps on running until she sees a long forgotten wooden jetty, jutting into the black waters of the lake. Without thinking about the temperature of the water, Emily dives in and swims under it to hide.

What feels like millennia of seconds pass as Emily hides under her wooden salvation. It's almost unbearably cold and she has started shivering... from fear as well as from the arctic water encasing her naked form.

The deathly quiet of the night is only broken up by the occasional screech of an owl. Then from the silence, Emily hears footsteps falling heavily on the wooden jetty. Each step makes the wood creak eerily; making Emily pray silently that it's not the messenger of death she met on the beach. After a few minutes the footsteps come to a halt on the edge of the jetty, she looks up to see a darkened figure above her standing there, silently, patiently.

Emily places both of her hands over her mouth out of fear. Fear that he can hear her breathing. Fear that he can hear her teeth clattering against each other as she shivers. Fear that she'll cry out. As he slowly turns away from the edge she lets out a slow relieved breath, but before she is able to take another breath a long thick blade comes plunging through the cracks of the jetty and into her shoulder.

"Aargh!" she cries out in agony, as the blade is pulled out of her painfully. She can feel hot blood running over her cold breast and decides to try to swim away; as she exits the bottom of the jetty a pair of strong harsh hands grabs her hair, pushing her under the water. She kicks and claws at the killers strong hands as she start running out of air. Her lungs are on fire and fighting to take in a breath. Just as she is about to resign herself to drowning he pulls her from the water and violently throws her onto the jetty. She tries to scramble back, spluttering as she tries to breathe again, but her feet slip from under her as the killer makes his way towards her agonizingly slowly.

The killer raises the blade over his head; his heart racing in anticipation, as he brings it down and lodges it into Emily's head, splitting her open from the top of her skull to her nose. The force of the blow is so powerful that he is unable to remove the blade as easily as he anticipated. Sending a thrill through his body as he realizes that he'll have to place his foot on her naked breast to provide him the leverage he needs to pull the blade out.

He crouches down and runs a long finger along the wound in her head, sighing satisfyingly as the beauty of her death makes every cell in his body sing. The killer grabs her by the hair and drags her back to where Sam's lifeless body lies still. His artwork is almost complete, as he places them in a deathly final embrace. He stands up and cracks his neck side to side. His head falls back down as he takes in his masterpiece of work, laid out before him. He licks his lips slowly at the sight, before bending down on one knee to finish the job.

~DR~

As the sun rises over a peaceful beach on La Push Reservation, early Sunday morning, the only sounds that can be heard come from the shifting of sand as a shirtless man runs across it. The sun has only just risen above the horizon, but his body is already covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Edward Cullen comes here to run every morning ever since his family moved to Fork's.

During the week Edward likes to drive to the beach for his early morning run, however on the weekends he has more time on his hands and will run all the way from his house in Forks. Having no friends and dealing with the monotony of his high school life, Edward runs until his feet can't carry him any longer, listening to the mixture of lapping water and his own thoughts over the pattering of his feet every morning.

He looks out over the water as he runs past a jetty and inhales the clean clear air deeply. Coming from a big city, the scenery is quite different here to Edward. As much as he preferred the city life he knows they have a reason to be here, that they have a mission, so he doesn't question it. He continues on his daily routine and just waits for the day things will change.

He doesn't realize today just might be that day. As he looks back down at the sand before him, his legs begin to slow. There are red speckled drops tainting the pure white sand in front of him. His eyes follow it for a moment before his feet continue behind. As he moves, a hushed prayer leaves his lips. Hoping that someone above is listening and he won't find what he suspects is at the end of the trail.

His eyes fall on a bundle of material spread out on the sand. It doesn't fit in with the rest of the pristine white sand surrounding it. He can see a lumpy form under it and the red trail he's been following ends at the blanket. Edward's only thought is that it is all wrong. Still, he stops at the edge of the blanket. He swallows thickly, preparing himself to do what he knows he has to. He bends over slightly as his shaky hand reaches out to grasp the material.

When he has it in his grasp he closes his eyes tightly, repeating the prayer from before once more in his head. His eyes open as what the blanket was concealing comes into view. He only has to look momentarily before his legs stumble backwards. His small breakfast of toast and orange juice comes back up his throat and lands all over the sand before him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks back over at the blanket again. There's so much blood that it takes him a moment to identify what he sees. He can make out what looks like two bodies, a male and a female. Edward can see the male body's throat is cut open wide. The females head is also split open on one side. What makes Edward's stomach flip and empty itself again is the rest of the female's body: It's gaping open from her throat, all the way down, past what is hidden still by the blanket.

Edward has read enough of his father's medical journals to know that it is not right, what he's looking at. Still, he looks closer to be sure. As he nears the bodies again his fingers pinch his nose and his hand covers his mouth. It doesn't take him long in his second glance, to confirm his earlier thoughts. His vision becomes spotty, and his head begins to swirl.

This woman, who ever she is, is missing her heart.

~DR~

Chief Charlie Swan, of the Fork's Washington Police Department, steps away from the crime scene to catch his breath. He looks over as his deputy Seth Clearwater, who is interviewing the young man who discovered the bodies on the beach.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. They have already identified the bodies; all he can think of is that he knew who these kids were. The fact that they were the same age as his own little girl is not lost on him. He's grateful she wasn't the body he looked at today, naked and mutilated. She was safely in her bed when this was happening to these kids. He vows then and there, as sure as he stands on that sacred beach, that he will find who did this; who opened Emily Call's chest up, and took her heart. He knows where to start.

He will start with the message, carved brutally into Sam Uley's chest.

FUCKING THE WHORE


Angel AN: So... What do you think? Please hit the pretty little review button at the bottom and let us know what you think. If you don't I may have to come stalk you with my Jason Vorhees mask on. We're only going to post again if the response warrants it, so if you don't tell us you like it we won't post again.

Punk AN- Phew that was rough...still with us? Then let us know! Hit that button and either tell us we're crazy or your ready for more!