Thank you, Ham. I love you more than you know!

If you haven't heard this song, turn it on, turn it up, and enjoy this ride.

Just give me a reason,

Just a little bit's enough

Just a second, we're not broken

Just bent and we can learn to LOVE again.

Oh, it's in the stars

It's still written in the scars on our hearts

We're NOT broken

Just bent and we can learn to love again.

Dark Paradise

Part Two

The End

"This isn't you," I shake my head, denying what's right in front of me. Denying the women that I've seen, the bodies, the blood.

"This is exactly who I am, whom I've always been. We need to get past this if you want us to move on." His fingers leave me, as he backs away.

"Move on? Move on to what? You locking me up, doing this to me whenever you want?"

"I just want a life with you. A marriage where I don't have to hide. Where you'll enjoy my work as much as I do. I never lied to you." He circles the table I'm on, his hand hovering just over me.

"You never told me anything either." I sneer, and his smile turns devilish.

"Oh my sweet stupid girl. Are we back at this again?"

"So I enjoyed the blood, the sex. That hardly means I knew you were murdering women." Lies. I knew. Maybe not everything. Maybe not the details, but I knew.

"FOR YOU!" he roars, slashing my arm with the blade. I scream this time, loud and hard, making my throat burn in protest.

I fight against the plastic, as he laughs at me, making my blood boil.

"I killed those women. Fuck yes, I killed them. And I enjoyed every single minute of it." He says it slowly, as if to make love to the words. "They are dead for you. You lived and they died. Would you rather die? Is that what you're saying, Isabella?" His face is so close to mine, and I can see it in his eyes, his skewed version of love that I crave and the hurt that I would rather have death than I would him.

He's got the blade on my neck, pressing it so hard that I can feel the skin below it break.

"No," I try to turn from him, ashamed that I'd rather live and have him, than die and not.

His lips are on mine, his need takes my breath making me dizzy.

"Please don't make me kill you." he breathes into my mouth as he lets me go.

I watch him for a long time, moving around the tiny room, rearranging his tools, mumbling to himself. It reminds me of when he'd cook dinner, so invested in his work.

The thought brings tears to my eyes.

"Those women..." I'm not stupid. I know he'd kill again.

"I didn't have a choice." His hands grip the table, his back to me, and his head down.

"Why them. Why do you need to kill them?"

"Have you ever loved something so much that you hated it? That every time you looked at it, all you could think about was wrapping your hands around it, squeezing until you see the lights leave them?"


"This, Isabella." He takes the scalpel, making me flinch, cutting the plastic around my hand bringing to to his chest. His fingers grip mine as he laces them together. "Have you ever wanted to pull out your own heart just so they could see it only beats for them?" I can feel it thumping in his chest, beating wildly against my hand. "This is yours. It's always been yours."

I have no words, there isn't a single thing I could say right now. I know it's sick, that he's more twisted than I'll ever understand, but my hand next to his heart, feeling it, only draws me to him.

"You lie to yourself everyday. You tell yourself I'll change, that I'll stop. Yet you really don't want that. I've never been anyone else but who I am right now. You see what you want, what I wanted you to see." His glare is icy, but his skin is burning me.

"I see you." I try, but it's a lie.

"No," he laughs at me. "You see the person I needed to be in order to obtain you."

"You have me."

"I have a liar. Someone who can't get past the women buried in the ground. Someone who loves a person who doesn't exist. Who never did."

"I loved what you gave me. I love this part of you too." And I do. Always.

"Did you know the women I killed begged for death. They begged for it when I gave them a choice. All except Rosalie." He moves away from me, sitting on the stool next to his table. "I gave them a choice. You or them, and everyone but her chose herself."

"What?" I blink, shocked.

"They had a choice, I always gave them one." he shrugs. "It was a detail the police never knew."

I keep my eyes on him as I remove the plastic from my stomach. I have no idea how he may react, and I have no way of defending myself if he were to stop me.

"I told them that I loved you too much. That every day I would watch you, telling myself that I could resist, knowing it was a lie." He's twirling the blade in his hand, but I know he's watching me, waiting for a reaction.

Hearing that the man you love fought with himself over killing you is a shock to the system. Knowing that he told other women, the women he murdered to keep me alive, the women he touched. That's what disturbs me. What angers me.

"You're jealous." His eyes lift to mine, a cruel smirk dancing on his lips.

"I'm not."

"Let's not lie anymore, shall we?" He gives a small wave with the scalpel and I flinch.

"You'd talk to those women but not me." I try to get the wrap he's placed around my chest free, but give up. He's got it too tight, and I'm wasting time.

I'm grateful he's let me free, but I know better. He has plans.

"I talked to a lot of people, Isabella. But yes, they had a right to know why they were dying." His chuckle is vicious as he stands, coming up behind me.

"You're a monster." I reach behind me, catching him off guard as I grab the scalpel, and shove it into his shoulder. I push the rest of the plastic off me, falling to the floor as I try to get away from him.

His deep sadistic, laugh shocks me, and just as I get the plastic off my ankles his face pops below the table.

"Did you really think that would stop me?" he asks, pulling the blade from his shoulder. "I've had much worse, and expected so much better from you, Isabella. We should really work on your aim." he grabs my arm, pulling me up roughly, and shoving me against the table.


"Here," he holds out the handle, his blood still covering it. "I've got another. Now let's try that again, shall we? This time, give it hell." His eyes flash, excitement dancing in the green.

"You want me to stab you?" My eyes widen as he shoves the handle in my hand.

"I want you to try," his fingers close around mine, and for a split second I can feel the electricity, the absolute need I have for him, coursing through our hands.

"No," I shake my head, unwilling to hurt him, snatching my hand back.

"Let's give you a reason then." He turns pulling out some sort of bundle. "You've never seen my kit, have you baby?" With a flick of his wrist the small roll flies open, rolling down the table, revealing what nightmares are made of.

I gasp, as his eyes flash to mine. "Beautiful isn't she? I named her after you." His fingers dance over different tools. A butcher knife, pliers, a bone saw, a syringe. There are over a dozen different blades, each one clean, reflecting the light above. "This is, Bella."

I gasp, looking at it all.

"This was... that's how you killed them?" I can't take my eyes away from him.

"It's like art. You have to have the right tools, they have to feel right in your hands, or the finished product is nothing more than a mess." He fingers the tip of a particularly long knife before pulling it out. "Would you like to hold it? See how it feels in your hands?" he flips the knife, catching the steel, handing it to me.

I feel it in my hand, the weight perfect.

"Now, do you want to stab something?" The knife clattering to floor, along with my jaw.

"I'm not stabbing anything." I move away from the table, staring at the blade at my feet.

"Pick it up," he demands, his knuckles turning white as he grips the table.

"I can't do that." I take another step back.

"You will pick it, or I'll pick it up for you." He's closer now, only inches from it, and I know he will.

"Have at it." I wave at the knife, and he's on it, blade in hand, eye's seething.

"Stop it, Isabella!" He moves towards me, the blade in his hand, and I can see it, the explosion behind those green eyes I love so much. He's going to kill me. "Stop fucking denying it. Stop fucking being a coward."

"Edward just calm down." I know he won't.

"Calm down? You think I've been anything but calm? You think I would come anywhere near you if I wasn't calm?" His eyes narrow, and his breathing quickens as he watches me back into the corner.

"You said you didn't want this."

"I say a lot of fucking things," His laugh echoes around the tiny room as tears fall down my face.

"You won't hurt me." I deny it, but I can see it written all over him. He would. Over and over. Enjoying every moment of it.

"And you are so damn sure now, are you." He moves to strike at me, and I move, quickly dodging him. "Smart girl."

"Don't do this."

"WHY ISABELLA?" He screams as he stalks me around the table, the scalpel scraping against the metal, making me cringe.

"I don't want to die, Edward. Please!" I beg, I scream.

"Not good enough," he shakes his head and I can see he's losing it, coming unhinged as he runs his free hand through his hair, pulling at it.

"If you kill me Edward, thats it. I can't come back. I can't love you. I can't touch you." I look around, eyes wild, searching for something, anything to stop him.

"Stop fucking begging. Where is the Isabella I know?" He strikes my arm with the blade, blood splattering across his shirt. "Look at what you're making me do?" His hands are shaking as he wipes the blood off his cheek, staring down at me.

"She's terrified okay? Look at what you're doing to me?" I raise my arm, wincing as I feel the skin opening further.

"And I'll keep cutting you until you stop me." He raises his hand, ready to strike and I slap him, startling myself.

"Is that what you wanted?" I stumble back, trying to get away from him.

"Absolutely." His smile is wide, and wicked as he rubs his thumb over his busted lip. "I fucking love when you hit me, baby."

'I'd kill you if I thought I could," I spit at him as I try stopping the blood flow from my arm.

"Oh I'd enjoy it if you'd try." He's on me before the words leave his mouth, his lips on mine his hands tangling in my hair.

I can taste the blood on him, mixing with my own. It's the most erotic thing I've ever felt, kissing him, the force of it all, the anger behind it.

"You are so fucking wet," he whispers yanking my head to the side as his fingers slip between us. "I bet you want me to fuck you, don't you? Bend you over right here, right over that table and ram my cock inside of you?" There's a bite to my neck, his hands pushing my knees apart, my back against the wall.

"Please," I beg, wrapping my legs around him and letting him fill me.

"Mine," his teeth in my shoulder, his hands possessing me.

"Always." A kiss, my tongue on his skin, his name on my lips.

He's quick, going deep and hard, his forehead against mine, eyes telling me what words never will. We don't make love, we never have, and we never will. This is his I love you. His I hate you. I need you.

This is me giving him everything he thinks I can't. He tells me I won't.

The scalpel is still in his hand, cutting his palm, fisted at my side and I can smell the blood when he his grip tightens as I fall apart around him. He caresses my cheek, kisses my forehead and steps back, leaving me panting and more relaxed than I have any right to be in this room.

I'm his push and he's my pull. It's ecstasy wrapped in flames.

"I love you," I say to him, once my heart calms and I have the strength to look at him.

I stand, wanting to touch him, to hold him, kiss him. I want to show him more than anything right now, but I know the look. The one he's giving me as his knee bounces.

The light touches his eyes, reflecting his true nature behind it, and I know.

I'm going to die.

"You never fucking loved ME!" He screams, striking at me with the knife. I don't hold back this time, ramming the scalpel into him as well, as he laughs.

I don't see where I hit him, I don't even look for it, knowing somehow I missed.

I feel his as it enters my side, the flesh splitting and swallowing the tip as if it were always meant to be there.

I fall to my knees, pulling his table down with me, the tools falling, scattering all around me, covered in my blood. I watch the blood as it pours through my fingers, the red staining my pale skin and I watch as pistol falls to the floor, the sound echoing around us.

"Edward?" I cough, my body heavy as my eyes widen. Blood is spilling from me faster than I thought possible. It's warm against my thigh, sticky, thick.

He's standing stock still, his eyes on the blood coming from my stomach. I can see the dread, the hate, the sadness. I hear the blade fall to the floor as his knees buckle, and he hits the floor right in front of me.

"What did I do?" He's scrambling to get closer to me, pulling me into his lap. his hands are on my face, pulling my hair back, and his lips are on mine. "Not this way. Not like this. You can't die." I can hear the pain in his voice.

"Edward. I need... call 911, leave and let them help me. I need you to run." I whisper, fighting sleep.

"Don't you dare!" He slaps my face as my eyes begin to drift close.

He looks at me, his deep green eyes making me smile, as he lifts me up, laying me on the table.

"You stupid girl." his laugh is watery as he turns to his table. I can hear drawers being pulled out, metal hitting metal, as my body begins to shiver and my teeth chatter.

"Tell me." I grab his hand, pulling him closer to me. I only need the words. Three words he never says. Words that would make everything worth it.

"You aren't dying. Stop being ridiculous." He pries my fingers from his, pulling out his phone.

I can't make out what he's saying, I can't hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears and my heart beating in my chest. I lift my hand from my stomach, watching as the blood drips down my wrist, the color mesmerizing me.

"Help is coming, you need to hold the fuck on. Do you hear me, Isabella?" I feel him hover over me, his hands on my face, making me look at him.

"Your eyes." My hands on his face, blood stained fingerprints on his cheek, and he's smiling. It's a smile that shatters me, kicking me in the stomach and breaking me. Soft green eyes that said I do. Bright green eyes that carried me to bed on our honeymoon.

Green eyes that make my world spin.

"BREATHE!" He's slamming on my chest, his hands pumping my heart. Just like it's always been. "Damn you, Bella! Don't you dare pull this shit! Do you fucking hear me?"

I can taste the blood, with every pump it fills my mouth, and falls out the corner.

He's on my mouth, breathing into me, for me. Giving me life. Giving me him.

"Move! I need to shock her!"

I feel it, the spark, it's quick, making my entire body bounce against the steel and I sit up, spitting blood and trying hard to catch my breath.

"Edward!" The tears sting my face, and my body is on fire, but I need him.

"I'm so sorry, but his pulse is weak..." I look into strange blue eyes and scramble off the table.

"No." I shake Edward, sitting between his legs, pulling his face up to look at me.

I see it then, the end of the scalpel sticking out of his chest, dead center of his heart.

I did this. I stabbed him.

"Don't touch that. It's the only thing keeping him from bleeding out."

"Then fix him," I snap, my hands shaking, hovering over the the handle. "FIX HIM GOD DAMN IT!" I reach behind Edward, grabbing the gun poking out from under the table and turn, pointing right between blue eyes.

"I've done everything I can, but I'm not him." His head leans, pointing toward Edward on the floor. I don't care about the tears in this man's eyes. They mean nothing. Less than nothing.

"You are not going to let him die." I'm shaking, and I can feel the blood running over my stomach, hear it dripping onto the floor below me.

"I don't have a choice!" He screams at me and a flash goes off sending me backwards into the table.

"I didn't either." I say, watching him fall to the floor, the barrel of the gun still smoking in my hand. I can hear someone outside, a car door slamming, and I move closer to Edward.

"This isn't supposed to be the end." I lay my head on Edward's leg. I can feel it shaking as his hand lays against the open wound on my stomach.

"This isn't the end for us," he coughs, opening his eyes and offering me a weak smile.

"I love you." The tears fall from my eyes as I lift the gun and bring it to my mouth.

"Always," His wink is blurry, but his smile is what I'll never forget. Beautiful.

I feel the metal burning my lips, but I don't flinch, I remember his face, those eyes and I let go.


All of you. Readers, reviewers, lurkers, rec'rs. You are fucking beautiful in my book. Amazing. I can't begin to express what this story means to me, and to have you all here, supporting me each and everyday. It's the most amazing feeling.

To everyone on FB, to the new friends I've made, you guys have no idea the smile you put on my face today.

Now, some of you have asked for a sequel/prequel, for EPOV, and mostly for MORE!

Stay tuned.

XOXO darknnerdy

The sequel Gods and Monsters has posted!