STORY TITLE: Living Doll

AUTHOR: b. krumova

BETA: Melissa (Mcc101180)

PAIRINGS: Bella Swan / Edward Cullen;

POINT OF VIEW: Edward

RATED: MA (NC-17)

One Shot; Very OOC;

WARNING: Not your typical story. Not your typical ending.


I rubbed my hands together, gently blowing into my palms, trying to warm them. The effort was pointless though since it was freezing outside. Every time the temperature dropped below ten degrees, I cursed myself for living in Seattle. I should have picked another place; Hawaii sounded good. I would prefer to die of heat stroke rather than from freezing as a popsicle.

It would be preferable it I was at home at this moment, but my sister-in-law just gave birth to hers and my brother's sixth child, and I had to visit them at the hospital. I couldn't comprehend how Alice — being the petite woman she was — was able to give birth to six healthy children. My brother, Jasper, was on cloud nine. His dream had always been to have a house full of children.

I wasn't so fortunate in life. Even though I was the oldest of three children, I was the only one who was still single and childless. Being thirty-five, without a girlfriend or anything close to female companionship, tended to make you an eternal bachelor.

I wasn't ugly or disgusting. In fact, I was the opposite. Women threw themselves at me for my looks. I guess the wild bronze hair and light green eyes in combination with an athletic body were like a magnet to women. The irony was not lost on me. I had women waiting in line, and yet not single one of them wanted a relationship with someone like me.

I was crazy.

No, really, I was crazy, or so said my doctors.

When I was eighteen, I started to see things that weren't there. It wasn't always physical things. Sometimes I misjudged a smile for a verbal attack, or I thought everyone was out to get me.

My parents brought me to the hospital once I introduced them to my "girlfriend," Lucy.

I still remember, Rosalie's — my sister — face. She was trying not to laugh so hard. After all, she is ten years younger than me and five years younger than Jasper. She was only eight when this happened. I remember glaring at her. I thought she was laughing at Lucy.

When my parents jumped from the dining room table and rushed me to the hospital, they explained to me that Lucy was the broom my mother swept the driveway with. I threw a fit, and I had to be sedated. The doctors assigned me a psychiatrist and gave me more medications and drugs than I could count on my fingers.

After three years of therapy and meds, I was a lot better. I started college even though I was twenty-one. I dated, I had a serious girlfriend — Jessica. She was a sweet girl, working as a police officer. She was killed in the line of duty after two years of dating.

She died on the same day I was going to propose marriage.

Jessica's death unlocked my schizophrenia again. I only stayed in the house, with Jessica, or at least the Jessica my mind created. My brother and brother-in-law, Emmett, broke down the door and took me to the hospital after I was locked in my own house for more than two months.

This time, I ended up in the loony bin.

For ten years.

I was discharged almost a year ago, but my history was repulsive to girls. I had no problem getting my basic sexual needs fulfilled, but I lacked the connection my siblings had with their spouses.

I needed someone in my life to love. I needed someone to love me back.

The snow storm was getting worse. I cursed myself for forgetting my knitted hat. While Alice was pregnant with Cullen Jr. number six, she knitted six months in a row. I have enough sweaters, hats, gloves and scarves to open a shop and sell them.

I hid under a shop's awning. The snow was so heavy all you saw before you was white. It was beautiful, of course, but blinding, and I had no intention of kissing the pavement.

A strange force made me turn and look through the show window. The edges were frosted and you could hardly see anything from the fog covering the glass, but I could see her.

She was magnificent.

She was standing close to a mirror, looking at herself, wearing a gorgeous silk, red dress. The material hugged her body perfectly and increased the attention to her breasts. Her heart-shaped face was framed by long, curly mahogany hair. The light she was standing under made the red color shine. Her lips were painted bloody red, and her brown eyes popped from the liner and mascara.

I didn't even realize when I walked into the store and stood next to this beautiful woman. She turned her head and looked at me, a shy smile dancing on her plump, kissable lips. She looked down at herself and blushed from the attention I was giving her.

She couldn't have been much older than my sister. There was still something child-like in her eyes, even though her body was that of a grown woman.

"Hello," I said. It was a wonder that I still had the ability to speak. This woman could definitely make you lose your vocabulary.

"Hi," she whispered.

"You … I'm sorry for being so bold, but you look like an angel in that dress. And I'm sure it's not just the dress."

I couldn't stop my mind from wondering how her lips would feel pressed to mine. How my hands would stroke her long hair or roam her exquisite body. How her ivory skin would shine when she lay naked on my bed, covered in dark blue sheets.

She giggled. "Thank you. Too bad I could never be able to afford it."

"Maybe I could help you." I offered her my hand and waited for the contact of her skin to mine. She didn't touch me, though; she was looking at her hands, playing with her long, red nails.

"I won't hurt you. I just want to buy this for you."

"Why?" Her question held a million more questions. "What do you expect of me?," "Do you think I'm easy, and I'll jump in bed with you for a dress?," "Do you always stare at women and buy them designer pieces?"

"Because looking at you in this moment is a beauty the world shouldn't be unable to see."

The look she was giving me almost made me self-conscious. I have never had a problem seducing a woman. For the first time in my life though, I tried to seduce a lady. Apparently I had problems with that.

To my surprise, she placed her small hand in mine; her hand was so soft and warm. The electricity that shot through me couldn't be explained. Our eyes locked, and I knew she felt it too.

Someone cleared their throat. I turned and looked at the saleswoman who stood uncomfortably behind us. She probably felt she had just ruined our moment.

"Sir, can I help you with something?" she asked.

I smiled at her. I could actually feel her discomfort. "Yes. I would like to buy this dress for her."

The saleswoman furrowed her eyebrows and looked behind my shoulder to the angel, whose hand I was still holding.

"Her?" she questioned.

I glared. What — she wasn't good enough to shop in a place like this? This was ridiculous. She was a hundred times the lady this salesgirl could ever be.

"Is that a problem?" I spat. I knew I shouldn't act this way toward a woman. My mother would have probably slapped the back of my head for this, but somehow I felt protective of this wonderful woman beside me.

The salesgirl looked scared for a moment, but then she quickly composed herself. "O-only the dress?"

I turned and looked at the beauty. I was stupid. She also had shoes and jewelry.

"No, not just the dress. Everything."

Ten minutes later, the beautiful girl and I were out of the shop. I offered her my jacket, since she didn't have one and she refused to let me buy her a coat as well.

It was still cold outside, but holding her warm hand made everything better. How can you feel the coldness, when there's fire burning inside of you?

"Do you want to grab coffee with me?" I asked her.

She looked at me, and the same blush warmed her cheeks. "Can we go to your place? I like the warmness of a home. The coffee places are so cold and crowded."

I smiled crookedly at her, trying to stop the blood flow to my lower regions. "Of course we can. In fact I live just a block away."

The people we passed looked at us strangely. I couldn't help but glow with pride. That's right, I had this wonderful woman on my arm, not you.

I turned my head to the side and stopped dead in my tracks. There, photographed on a billboard was the beauty. Smiling widely and posing on a beach, holding a bottle of water in her hands.

I walked closer and saw the text under the photo.

"Supermodel Isabella Swan advertising the new mineral water — StarLife."

I looked at Isabella, and she was holding her smile. "Sorry. I just love people buying me things. I can repay you if you want."

I shook my head. "You can repay me by having dinner with me tonight."

"Can you cook?"

"You like homemade meals, Isabella?"

"They're the best. And call me Bella."

"I'm Edward. Edward Cullen."

"You name suits you, Edward Cullen. You still in for that coffee?"

I smirked at her. "Of course, beautiful. Come on." I placed my hand on her lower back and guided her in the direction of my complex.

While we walked, she shared with me how she got into modeling and how she loved her job, but she was very lonely. All of the travelling and lack of real relationships were getting to her, and sometimes she just wanted to throw it all to hell and just enjoy a simple life.

When we reached my apartment building, I opened the door for her. The doorman looked at me strangely when I laughed out loud at a joke she said to me. She was perfect. From the little time we spent together, I gathered that she was smart, funny, independent, beautiful and caring.

Our fingertips brushed when we reached to press the elevator's button. She flinched slightly at the contact; she must have felt the electricity as well.

When we reached the door to my apartment, I pulled the key from my pocket and unlocked it, leaving it open for her. She stepped inside and shrugged of my jacket, giving it to me. I placed it on the hanger by the door and removed my scarf, putting it on top of the jacket.

"You have a very welcoming home. It's warm and inviting. I haven't been to a place like this in so long. Hotel rooms are always so clinical — bed, dresser, nightstands, television … it's good to be in a place like this."

I wondered what the feeling must have been like, travelling all the time, having no time to befriend anyone or share a thought.

A beautiful creature like her shouldn't have felt like this.

"Do you mind me using the restroom while you prepare the coffee?" she asked.

"Of course not. Down the hall, last door on the left."

She smiled shyly and walked in the direction of the bathroom. Her heels clicked on the floor signaling her retreating form.

I walked to the stereo and put on a CD with Bulgarian music Rosalie brought me while she was at a conference there. The sound was soothing, and even though I had a hard time understanding the lyrics, I did my best to translate them.

I browsed through the songs and decided on "Кукла" by the band "Атлас." The song was about a guy who falls in love with the superficial version of a woman. She's in fact a doll, but he's so blinded by her outside beauty he doesn't care she's a soulless creature without a heart.

I walked to the coffee maker and pressed the button. I had stocked the water and the coffee in the morning, but since Jasper called me in a hurry, I just dressed and went to the hospital.

"This song is very good," Bella said, standing behind me. I almost jumped from surprise. She could be awfully quiet if she wanted to be.

"I like it, too."

She tugged on my sleeve, making me turn around and face her. I was trapped between the kitchen counter and her perfection.

"Dance with me." She placed her hands around my neck and locked her fingers together in my hair. I circled her waist and brought her amazing body closer to mine.

The lyrics filled the air around us. I was so glad I could translate the chorus into her ear. Her skin broke into goose bumps from the act.

I'm watching you, you're a doll,

You're looking coldly with your eyes.

Tell me how to warm your fake, cold features.

I'm asking, is there a power that gives a life to you too.

How much path is between us — I'm a man and you're a doll.

"Excuse my intrusion, Edward — it happened unintentionally — but why are you taking so many medications?" Bella suddenly asked.

My hands tightened on her waist by default. I knew she would want to let go of me once I told her about my condition; once I told her that I'm only sane when I take my drugs in the morning, otherwise my mind started playing games with me.

"I-I have delusional disorder," I confessed. "I've had it almost my entire life."

"What does that mean exactly?" she asked softly, as if she was scared she was touching a raw nerve.

"Mental disorder characterized by holding one or more non-bizarre delusions in the absence of any other significant psychopathology. Sometimes I have hallucinations and panic attacks when I think of a conspiracy theory. I'm a schizophrenic."

I closed my eyes and waited to feel the absence of her body close to mine.

I waited and waited.

She didn't move.

"So what are the Risperdal and Zyprexa for?" she asked.

"They reduce the chances of hallucinations and delusions."

"Sometimes you get physically threatening, right? That's what the Ativan and Haldol are for. They knock you out."

"Yes," I mumbled. "Are you scared of me?"

She moved away slightly and looked at me, a smile dancing on her lips. "Would you hurt me?"

"Never intentionally." I was speaking the truth. I would never hurt a woman, let alone one as exquisite as this one in my sober, right mind.

"That's enough for me." She lifted her head and captured my lips with hers. The softness of her full lips, the warmth that felt like fire from this simple kiss, was enough to drive me crazy.

And not crazy in the way I was used to.

I pressed my lips to hers harder. She opened her mouth, inviting me in. Her tongue wasn't shy and greeted mine as soon as it passed her lips. I felt myself getting erect. I don't remember ever being so worked up from a simple kiss, even as a teenager.

Bella's hands roamed down my back and slipped under the sweater I was wearing. She untucked the T-shirt from the waistband of my jeans and slowly brought her hand beneath it, stroking my bare back.

Her touch was like amazing. I felt burned from everything she did to me.

"Take me to your bedroom," she whispered, bringing her lips to mine again.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I wanted to be a gentleman and treat her like a lady, but I was finding it really hard to do that.

She nodded and traced my jaw with butterfly kisses. I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder.

Our clothes were shed and spilled all over the room. I could hear my cell phone ringing somewhere, but I couldn't care less even if it was the Pope calling.

Bella was under me, her hands touching me everywhere. It'd been so long since those simple touches weren't just for the sake of orgasms. She knew everything — she knew about my disease and she still decided to stay; she decided to be with me.

I could only thank her in one way I knew how.

This was going to be for her. I couldn't care less about my needs at that moment, even though my balls were going to explode soon.

I kissed her lips. I trailed my tongue down her neck and gently sucked on her pulse point. I cupped her perky breasts and felt the hardness of her nipples tickling my palms.

My tongue circled one of her nipples, and she let a sexy moan escape her lips. I pushed down the urge to place my head in the valley between her mounds and just stay there.

While my mouth was sucking on her other nipple, my fingers travelled down her stomach, and I drew circles around her navel. Her skin grew hotter and her breathing picked up and grew harsher.

My lips left open-mouthed kisses all over her torso until they reached the line of curls leading to her lower lips. I brought my head up slightly to see if Bella had any discomfort with me worshiping her with my mouth, but her eyes were shut tightly and she was gripping the sheets in a vice-grip.

I took that as a sign of encouragement.

My fingers opened her lips and her scent attacked me immediately. I didn't waste any time and pressed a kiss to her clit, flicking my tongue to get a better taste of her.

She arched her back and murmured something incoherent. I slipped one of my hands behind her and moved it to just above her ass to keep her in a better level with my mouth.

My fingers found their way to her entrance and tested the waters, only slipping inside the fingertip.

"Please more," she begged.

I pushed inside the rest of my middle finger and continued on sucking and licking her clit, while I thrust my finger in and out of her.

I added a second finger and felt her slick walls tighten around me. Her breathing was hard, and from the sounds that she was making, I knew she was close.

I pressed my tongue harder and increased the speed my fingers were entering her. I moved them inside of her, trying to find that magical spot that would send her over the edge.

"Edward," she moaned, and I felt her pussy constrict around me, her arousal flowing down my fingers. I didn't stop until I was sure she had ridden out the waves of her release.

"Get up here," she all but roared and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me toward her mouth.

She kissed me eagerly, passionately. Running her tongue over my lips and searching mine. Her small hands roamed my back, her nails leaving scars I never wanted to fade.

She pushed me onto my back, undoubtably to reciprocate going down on her, but I stopped her. This was going to be about her, not me.

"You sure?" she asked, sliding her hand over my abs, gently stroking every muscle.

I sought her lips with mine again and rolled on top of her, resting between her thighs. I leaned my weight on my elbows and slowly, but purposefully, moved my hips in circles, getting friction from her sleek and warm center.

"I love you," she whispered out of the blue. My forehead was touching hers, our eyes locked in the most intimate of ways. Nothing else mattered in this, moment. The world could have ended and I still wouldn't have cared.

"I love you, too." I said the words without being sure if they were true or not. Did I believe in love at first sight? Surely no, but ever since I glanced at Bella, my heart started beating differently.

My heart was whole now.

Her small hand moved in between us, her nails scratching down my torso until she reached my cock. Her fingers closed down around the shaft, and she guided the head to her opening.

A single thrust and I was inside of her. The tight warmness that welcomed me made my eyes water. I felt like crying from being so overwhelmed. All my life, I thought no one would ever love me; no one would ever want me. I was broken, I was sick, and my illness pretty much defined my life for me.

My eyes stared at the pools of melted chocolate with every withdrawal. In and out of her, I moved slowly. There was no rush, no eagerness for this to be over. If it were possible, I would have chosen to stay like this forever.

Bella's ankles locked on the small of my back. The angle of my thrusts changed, and this allowed me to penetrate her deeper.

Her back arched and her head hit the pillow, a grunt escaping her. Her hands were fisting the sheets, so I gently unwrapped them from the cotton and entwined her fingers with mine.

I felt Bella come apart around me, and I followed her immediately. Gasps of breath, pleads to God, and moans of pleasure filled the room.

My body felt boneless after my release, and I almost crushed Bella with my weight. I grabbed her by the waist and, without pulling out of her, I brought her on top of me.

"You're like a doll," I said to her, kissing her temple. "I don't think there's anyone as exquisite as you. You're breathtaking."

She turned her head to me, and a lazy smirk appeared on her lips. "You're starting to understand."

Her statement confused me. "Understand what?"

"Edward, what's going on here?" I heard my sister's voice coming from the door. She looked confused, but as soon as our eyes met, her expression changed.

She was terrified.

"Jesus, Rose." I stood up from the bed, gently pushing Bella away from me. I grabbed the sheet as I stood up and covered myself with it. I was embarrassed to say the least. It wasn't a common situation in which my twenty-five-year- old sister walked in on me after I just got laid. "I guess that's not a great way for you to meet my Bella now, is it?"

Rosalie gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears, and she mumbled, "No, no, no, no" over and over again. Her knees buckled, and she fell down to the floor, her long trench coat pooling around her legs like a pool of blood.

My eyes widened, and I kneeled down next to her to see if she was all right. She looked at me with tear-filled eyes and hugged me in a bone-crushing hug, sniffling in the crook of my neck.

"Rose, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"

"Edward," she gasped. "Please, I'm begging you — tell me you know it's not real. Please, please, please, tell me you know she's not real."

I furrowed my eyebrows. Of course she was real.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Rose."

"That's a mannequin, Ed. She's not real; she's made of plastic. She's just a doll."

I started laughing. "Sure," I said mockingly. "At least she's not a blow-up doll, is she? She's made of plastic."

Rosalie stepped away from and looked at me angrily. Her hand slapped my cheek, and my head turned to the side. Her hand gripped my jaw firmly and made me look at the bed.

There, in between the messy, drenched sheets was nothing more than a plastic mannequin. The lips were always smiling in a fake smile, the eyes were unmoving and cold, and her hand stood awkwardly up as if she was waving.

This was just a mannequin. Everything that happened was just a fruit of my imagination. Bella wasn't real. I didn't know if her name was even Bella, if she really was a supermodel I saw on the billboard.

Everything happened in slow motion.

The fog that clouded my judgment started to fade away. Things started to fit into place. My mind was splitting in two. The sane part of me was trying to fight its way over the imaginary reality my schizophrenia created. Memories started mashing together; I couldn't recognize what was real and what was fake to save my life.

And I needed to save my life.

Nodding my head repeatedly, I turned to look at Rosalie. "Take me to the hospital."

My baby sister fell apart on me and collapsed into my arms. She wasn't afraid of me; she was sure that even in my crazy state, I wouldn't have hurt her.

"I just got you back," she whimpered.

"I'm so sorry, baby girl." Tears were streaming down my face. Both of us were losing something that could not be replaced in any way.

"You're going to be an uncle," she said in a breathy whisper. "Please get well for your nephew or niece."

"I'll be the first one there."

xxXxx

The hospital halls had grown on me. Some people say that their workplace is like a second home. I guess my second home would forever be the hospital. I had spent more than half a century in one.

My father passed away today. I wanted to be sad, to cry and feel something else rather than relief. His fight with cancer was finally over. I wanted to congratulate him; he was a terrific fighter. If he had been fighting in a war, he'd been given a medal.

He had lived his life, and it was a beautiful life. Dying at eighty-three is good. Dying at eighty-three means you lived, you created something. You left your share to the world. You played your role and took the final bow with applause.

My father left his footprints in many ways. Three children and eight grandchildren was more than a good job.

Dad had quite the timing, though. Brandon, my nephew, turned twenty-five today. I couldn't believe it was that long ago. It felt like yesterday my sister was screaming at me over the phone to get into the hospital.

I had to beg and it took three psychiatrists to be released from the loony bin just to see my sister giving birth to her first child. My brother was there with his six kids and wife by his side. I smiled at him and kissed the cheeks to all of my nieces. Six daughters — Jasper was going to turn grey before his time. God bless him as soon as they hit puberty.

My nieces and nephew were the closest I got to having children around. When Rosalie drove me to the hospital after the incident with the doll, I was hospitalized for eight years. The psychiatric clinic I was in wasn't all that bad, and I had family visits every two weeks.

The drugs I was on and the doctors and councilors I spoke to daily made sure to keep me in reality.

I haven't had anything major happen since. I still misjudged real things from fake sometimes, but it was controllable.

I never got married, never had kids, never had a girlfriend. No one ever said they loved me other than my family, and I hardly had any friends that weren't crazy. I couldn't find a job, and I lived off my family's help and the small fortune I had after selling my apartment, car and yacht that was left for me by my grandfather.

Did I regret my life? No. I guess it wasn't meant for me to be that guy: the guy with the family on his own and the happily ever after. I was a great uncle and a brother. I did my best to be a good son to my parents. So what if I didn't leave my footsteps in more lives? I guess I had to settle for this much.

I walked down to the elevator doors and ran my hand over the grey thick hair on my scalp. I guess I wouldn't have problems with baldness; my hair would forever be unable to be tamed.

I heard sniffling and women's crying from behind me. I turned and looked at the elderly woman sitting on a bench with a white handkerchief in hand, drying her tears.

I walked over to her, sat on the chair beside her and just stood there. If she wanted to share her pain, I had no problem listening to it.

Her hair was dyed brown and styled short, it didn't even reach her shoulders. She was dressed in a casual, yet classy red suit jacket and a skirt that reached her knees.

She sniffled and took a deep breath. "My brother just died."

I offered her my condolences and a new handkerchief. She accepted it and lifted her head to look at me.

Her face was slightly wrinkled and maturity was written all over her. She was an elite lady, I was certain. Her lips were painted red and her chocolate eyes were contoured by a black eye-liner.

"I'm Isabella Swan." She offered me her hand, but I was too shocked to take it. I didn't think my mind would play this game on me again after all these years.

"Ms. Swan?" A nurse came from the hospital room nearby and kneeled next to the crying woman. "I'm sorry for your loss. It's going to take a while to prepare James for the funeral agency. Would you like to go home?"

I stood up from the chair I was sitting on and walked to the security guard standing next to the elevator.

"Excuse me, son, I know this is a weird question, but do you see that woman?" I asked, pointing at Isabella.

"Yes?" The guard offered. "Red suit, talking to a nurse."

I smiled and clapped his shoulder. "Thank you."

I walked back to Isabella and offered her my hand. "Let me buy you a cup of tea. You need it. You could call your husband or—"

"Never got married, never had kids. It was only my brother and me."

I smiled. "Then you and I have a lot in common. Let me treat you, please."

She shook her head but placed her hand in mine. "I used to love people buying me stuff. I hate it now. Let me treat you …"

"Edward Cullen."

"Nice to meet you, Edward Cullen. So, what's your baggage?" she asked.

I chuckled. "You're fast, Isabella."

"Call me Bella. Share with me why you're lonely and I'll share with you, too."

I looked at her straight in the eyes. "Let me ask you a question first."

"Shoot. We're not getting any younger here, though."

"Do you think your life can start at sixty?" I asked, offering her my elbow.

She slipped her hand in the crook and linked our hands together. "Everything is possible as long as you believe it."


Some of you may think this was a very strange one-shot. I know there's no middle way here; you'd either like it or hate it. Let me know what you thought, anyway.

I am in a bit of an author's crisis if you'd like to call it that. I have no mood to write anything. Excuse me for the delay of my multi-chaptered fics. I hope that I would be able to have a completed chapter soon. "Paradise Lost" is almost halfway written. I hope I'll update soon.

The song Кукла by Атлас is one of my all-time favorites. It's in YouTube if you'd like to hear it (write Atlas – Kukla). I had translated the lyrics in the chapter, so you know what the band sings about.

There are many more good Bulgarian songs in YouTube. Give them a try and if you want me to, I'll translate the lyrics.

Thank you for reading this and I'll be even more thankful if you click on the button below and Review.

-B.