Jeez, I can't believe this story is over 8 years old now! So… This is the same story, sort of, but so re-worked, I can't see where it started and where it finished. This was going to be re-worked for publication, but I want to share it with you, once again, and show you how expanded it is.
I've almost doubled the original word count and where it was a drabble before, now it's not. It's gone from 122 chapters to just 32!
Now, I have to point out that it is set in England. In my head, most of my stories are, but you can easily set this in Forks, too. Spellings will most probably be in British English (that sounds so strange to type out), but I hope that doesn't put you off.
I hope you like the expanded edition and will give you something to read in these difficult times.
Shivering, but not. Shaking, but everything dead; silent, and still. A pounding, throbbing head, empty of thoughts.
Why won't the shaking stop?
Fear, from an unknown source. Something's wrong, the uncertainty a shadow.
Where was all this pain coming from? It was a mess, a mess that couldn't be smoothed out or cleaned up. Crinkled, disjointed. A mess.
A big damn mess. The pain, yes, the pain.
Why? Cold, rough… what was that? The walls? The hotel was warm, so why did everything feel so cold? Even the carpet, a hard, solid mass of thin fibres. Just. So. Cold. Yet, hot like the burning sun. Breathing heavy, painful, chest too tight. Pounding in the ears, but no sound. Heart beating so loud, thumping so hard and fast. No end, no end to the torture…
"Sir? Can you hear me, sir? I'm just putting a mask over your mouth. Everything will be fine, we need to stabilize you."
A voice, someone was there. Where is their face? Why won't they show themselves? Everything's so dark and blurry. Nothing makes sense.
Why do they sound so far away? Water in the ears; that's what the noise sounds like. It wasn't here, it was somewhere else, somewhere far. Nothing makes sense.
"Sir, you have to calm down. Just breathe through it. No, you need the mask, don't pull on it. I'm just going to give you something to help calm you down. It might make you feel a little woozy…"
Ah, the calm before everything else. The pain is going, but not quick enough. Where did the pain come from? Where is it going? Why is it even here?
Flashing lights in the darkness. Mask too tight. Choking. Jerky movement, and coldness. Just constant cold.
Calm. Brighter lights, but it makes no sense. Nothing did.
Sweating, clothes wet and sticky. Shivering under thick blankets. What does it all mean?
Needles, pricking pain everywhere. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Why couldn't they fix this? What were they doing to him? Too loud and too tight, too hot, and then…
Four hours later, Edward felt as if he were almost back to normal, even though his body sagged with an exhaustion he'd never experienced before. His limbs were beyond heavy, and his brain felt like it'd been bouncing off his skull all night. The doctor wanted to keep him in the hospital overnight for further testing and observations, but after brushing off the doctor's concerns, Edward walked out of the hospital.
His body felt weak, but he supposed with a good takeaway and a stiff drink, he'd be back to his usual self in no time. He was in desperate need of a shower and air conditioning, which could be found back in the hotel room. At the thought of going back to the hotel, he let out a tired and muffled moan. What disaster awaited him there?
Edward's bodyguard was by his side, of course, but Edward knew Mike was there out of duty. That was all. Good man that he was, he'd kept his mouth shut throughout the whole night, speaking only when necessary, and then, mostly to the nurses and the doctor. Edward knew he'd pushed way too many of the man's buttons this time, but he couldn't find it in him to care. It wasn't that he had any ill feelings toward Mike, more that he saw no reason to feel for the bodyguard either way. Mike was there for a paycheque, not to be Edward's friend—and Edward was perfectly happy with that.
He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and winced when he saw several missed calls and texts from his manager Lucas.
"I suppose you had to inform him of all this?" Edward asked Mike, but didn't meet his bodyguard's eyes.
"Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie?" The man's answer was blunt, bordering on cold, which further highlighted there was no love lost between the two.
Sucking in a deep breath, Edward sent a text to Lucas asking to be picked up. While he waited at a secluded back entrance, he sparked up a fag and sat on the small metal wall by the hospital entrance. He wasn't in the mood to give a shit about who saw him. It was too late now anyway, wasn't it? Edward had overheard the nurses gossiping about him when they thought he was asleep, the paps and fans knew it all.
Except, they didn't know anything.
They didn't have a clue, nor would they ever want to know. Everyone had Edward Cullen on such a high pedestal he could do anything he wanted, and they wouldn't care. They thought he was untouchable, which was the worst place to be. Untouchable breeds recklessness and stupidity. And from there on out, it was easy to become someone you aren't, and were never meant to me. But they couldn't see it, wouldn't see it. They never did. They saw what they wanted to, and if the facts didn't match what they believed, they spun everything until they did. What was the point of fighting it anymore? Edward had played the media game too long to care.
He shook his head at thoughts of the evening and how it all unravelled; he needed food and sleep. And maybe a good fuck. Nothing beat fucking someone senseless to rid your brain of thoughts.
Edward pulled his phone from his pocket again to check his emails. Lucas wouldn't be there for a bit, so he needed to pass the time. Lord knew he couldn't count on Mike for stimulating conversation. The emails were boring, so he hopped over to the social media sites. He wasn't stupid enough to use his own name, and logged on with a fake one. It gave him that little bit of extra security and anonymity, which he liked.
Our gorgeous Edward was spotted this New Year's Eve having a blast with friends and many admirers. We hope his good spirits keep going well into the New Year. Happy Birthday, Edward!
Edward was spotted drinking from a bottle of champagne as the New Year rang in just hours ago. Oh, how the other half live! Happy New Year to Edward Cullen, the man of our dreams! Here's hoping you had a great birthday!
No New Year's kiss for Edward, but we're not complaining. We'd prefer his lips on ours! Birthday wishes from us to you, Edward!
Edward was seen being taken out the back door of a club on a stretcher! Rumours are rife about what caused this. Was it drugs? Too much to drink, or was it something more sinister? We'll find out soon… Not a good way to celebrate your birthday, that's for sure.
Cullensbabymumma: I bet someone spiked him. We know he likes to drink, but he wouldn't take drugs. I don't care what anyone else says.
TooCullenforyou: You know full well it's drugs. It's Hollywood, and anything there goes. I just hope he's okay.
Edward sighed. Granted, the pictures didn't look good, not one little bit, but at least he wasn't dead. The way some of the sites were trolling, one would think he'd been taken away from the club in a hearse.
"Edward, get your fucking arse in this car. I can't believe this; I was supposed to be spending the night with my wife, but instead, I have to come pick your arse up from the hospital, of all places. Do you know how many paps are out the front?" Lucas' face was that beetroot kind of colour it only ever got when he was really mad.
Despite himself, Edward fought a shudder. He hadn't even heard the car pull up, too engrossed in his own world to notice much. And wasn't that always the problem with him?
His manager growled through the open car window, ripples of rage coating his words "Why the fuck didn't you call me earlier? I had to find out about this stunt from fucking Mike! It's not his job to be your guide dog, Edward, it's to protect you, and you go and do something as stupid as this!"
Guilt seeped in as he put his phone away and got in the front of the car, whilst Mike silently climbed into the back. Edward wanted to mutter an apology, but no words came to him. He knew Mike was doing his job; he didn't particularly like the man much, but did Edward have to go to these lengths? Did he even have control over how far he would go anymore?
"I just can't believe you, Edward. When are you going to get a grip? You can't keep doing this. You're going to fucking kill yourself! The sites are saying you have alcohol poisoning. Just one night, Edward? Couldn't you have given your team one night where they didn't have to cover for you? I just can't…"
Lucas was shaking his head now, with such fury that Edward almost thought it might come clean off.
"You could have killed yourself for all I knew! I'm just grateful Mike got hold of me when he did, so I could try and claim some ground on damage control." Lucas continued his rant while he drove Edward back to a different hotel. Away from the place where it all started, away from the fans, the drink, and the temptation for more.
For once, Edward was nervous about what would greet him at the doors, but ever the faithful manager, Lucas brushed off his concerns and advised him it was handled. Recently, that's all Lucas had been able to do; 'handle' things. Edward was slowly beginning to open his eyes to the mess that was his life, and he wasn't sure exactly how he felt about the view.
"Did they call?" Edward murmured. He did and didn't want to know the answer, but had to ask all the same.
"No." Lucas had changed his tone. Now, it was full of remorse and sadness.
"Well, fuck them, then. It's not like I expected anything from them." Edward grunted and closed his eyes as the exhaustion took over. All would be okay in the morning.
It just had to be.
"Let's get you home, and we can work everything out. Get you back on English soil, and all will be okay," Lucas said, indicating to pull out of the junction.
"Yeah, well I'm not going to hold my breath," Edward replied, closing his eyes.
"I forgot to tell you something, Edward."
"What's that, oh, dearest manager of mine?" Edward asked sarcastically, expecting another ear bashing. His manager was practically his mother right now, and Edward had been chastised enough for one day.
"Oh, yay. Happy Birthday to me."
I'm hopefully going to be posting this a few times a week until it's all done. I'd love to hear what you think of the revised edition, so please leave a review? Mwah.