My body feels like a tight spring ready to burst out sharp wire and I want this.

I need this confrontation.

At this point I don't care if my screams are heard.

I'm done.

My parents downstairs have absolutely no idea of the boy in their daughter's room.

The boy they think of as their own.

We stare hard, a range of emotions passing through our burning eyes.

Anger, hurt, lust, love…resignation?

Green fire holding seething brown.

"Baby bird, I'm impressed. Finally becoming a big girl, huh? Tired of playing the innocent, little victim? Little baby swan wanting to fuck the big boys, but baby bird…", he's moving closer to me spitting venom in my path, his burning gaze never leaving mine.

His chest is to my forehead and when he looks down, I look up not wanting to back down but also enjoying his heat.

He's so close that our bodies are pressed to one another.

I should move but I'm a masochist.

His lips are hovering over mine.

"You just can't handle me", he says in a soft, sincere voice, so different from his vicious tone moments before, laced with a sad smile.

I crack, I break, I cling, I hit, I scratch, I pull and he takes every blow, hands resting on my hips, embracing me with his head straining to stay tucked into my neck breathing me in.

"I fucking hate you Edward! Why do you always do this?! You didn't use to be like this…" I trailed off in sobs feeling so deep I swear my heart stopped from the pain to just to add another crack.

I instantly feel his body tense from the mention of his past, our past. The events leading up to the Edward that now stands before me makes me weak in the knees with sadness.

"Don't you fucking ever mention that shit Isabella, do you fucking understand me", his voice steel hard and indifferent forces new sobs to escape from my swollen mouth.

I feel the fight leave my body and all I want to do is go back minutes before to the boy on the flipside of sober, kissing his full lips, feeling the slickness and tasting the sweetness of his tongue while his hardness presses between my legs.

But I can't.

I watch him grab his black leather jacket and head straight for my window and all I want to do is make him stay.

Before I can make an even bigger fool of myself he utters the words that remind me of who I really am to him and who society perceives his relationship to me.

"Goodnight, god sister".

My heart forms another crack.

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