DISCLAIMER:

Please Note:

For all intents and purposes;

No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is being written for recreational purposes only.

The Twilight Saga and all characters involved within the plotline of this story are the property of the author, Stephenie Meyer.

However, the plot is entirely my own.

–This applies to the rest of this story.

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REVISED AND RE-UPLOADED

A/N: To those who are new to my writing style: Welcome! To those who are familiar with my style, I must proffer a warning. This story is totally different from any of my earlier stories and lacking, I would hope, none of the other's flair. You shall be the judge of that! Except that the intended couplings are Jasper and Bella and that everyone within the story is human, it would seem that there are no other similitude to my earlier stories.

That being said, I would like to let everyone know that this story is a little on the dark side of things, but will have a happy ending. Promising: dark themes with (various) descriptive scenes of violence, child abuse (though not sexual), emotional abuse, language, and a promise of penance and romance.

If you do not like to read anything overly violent or abusive, please go back, find something else to read, and do not proceed to read this story. I will respect that. If you do not mind a little violence to your dosage of daily reading, then by all means, please go right ahead and enjoy this little morsel!

Thank you for reading, always…

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Black Swan

[Part, I: The Sacrifice]

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Statuesque like a black panther, with nothing but nimble limbs, working in graceful, deliberate and petrifying movements, while her cascading black-as-ink midnight hair flickers dangerously behind and around her shoulders with every stride she takes, and falling heavily over flawless skin the color of almond, the commanding woman with ablaze midnight eyes is focusing all her efforts on approaching her object of interest –a cowering young boy, almost paralyzed with fear at the knowledge of her direst. Scared, the boy is on his hands and knees, trying to make himself less noticeable and failing miserably, so he abandons that course of action.

Meanwhile she continues her approach, watching him as he scurries pitifully to put some distance between them with some dark humor darkening her coal-like eyes and inflaming the embers of her rage further with the boy's useless attempts. Without pause or signs of compassion etched into each of her powerful and resolute steps, the sight of the boy's obvious fear and trepidation does not deter her passage.

Oh… the woman is so furious with the young boy that she is trembling with the force of her rage and she saw no other alternative, but punish him… Her precious boy, she had been so fond of him, and he had disappointed her like no other before him. His blatant betrayal feels cutting and she saw nothing but that, his obvious disregard for all her previous affections.

There is no escaping what's about to happen, the boy knows, because no matter how much he scrambles and hastens his efforts to try fleeing from the panther-like woman's terrorizing passage, in no time at all, her lithe and rippling strides will lead her right to him and she will make him pay. Like now, once again, the young boy finds himself between the imposing and terrifying woman and a wall, trapped with no discernible way out.

The only reason why he's still standing and breathing and not as broken as she wants to truly see him, is because she's so very fond of him and her need to know how he'd managed his insolence under her close watch and tutelage kept on taunting her. But once she did know… he would be sorry and he would pay, that he would, and she would lose her patience and her precious boy, sadly.

But there will be others, there are always others that sought to please her and do her will… She's always been very persuasive and beautiful.

The woman stretches out her hand toward the young boy like an uncoiling viper about to strike, nails long and pointed like claws, once she finally reaches him and he steels himself for the pain that is sure to come the moment her hands reach their destination and make contact with his already black and blue skin. When she does touch him, her clawed fingers tighten through his flaxen hair, scraping his scalp and drawing blood, and she proceeds to haul and drag him unceremoniously to his feet.

As the pain of her touch registers through the boy's scalp and nerve endings, he bites his lower lip instinctively and draws blood in his desperate attempt to stop the ready scream from erupting and reaching her ears. Given her sadistic disposition, he remembered at the last second, that she doesn't like it when they scream, none of the other children, and because he is her special boy; she especially doesn't like it when he screams.

According to her, showing any kind of pain is a sign of weakness that she hadn't installed in him throughout her tutelage of him and if he so much as squeaked and she was within hearing range, like now, the consequences would be far more severe than he knew he could survive. She had taught him better than that and he'd seen how vindictive her stride could become when given the opportunity way too many times, in past and now. Therefore, he made sure to stand as best he could and bury the sound of his pain, hoping she hadn't noticed the momentary weakness.

"You little fucker!" the woman angrily snarls between clenching teeth.

Using the rush and the added strength the adrenalin coursing through her veins with the source of her indignation provides, she uses both palms and pushes the flaxen-haired adolescent boy against the gray-bricked wall viciously by the chest, cracking a few ribs in the process.

The young boy grimaces from the pain and his vision momentarily fades but he remains as quiet as possible and barely standing. Someone else is crying though, he knows and hears, and he hopes she doesn't hear… he hopes she continues her vindictive tirade, if only to keep the crying ones safe…

"Tell me! Where are they?" she demands, screeching painfully against his ear, and though blurry, his vision returns. "You know, don't you?" She holds him aggressively against the wall by his hair, accusing.

"I don't," he says, refusing to say otherwise. Like the boy thought, she had found out about what he'd done. If not, she clearly suspected.

"Of course you do," she muses, ignoring his lie. "Since the three of you are as thick as thieves…" She laughs maniacally at her joke. They are thieves because of her, the lot of them and otherwise; they have no choice or say in the matter.

Grimacing again, the teen's visage pales and beads of sweat brake out over his broad brow, and while he holds a firm palm gingerly against his cracked ribcages, more bruising blooms just under the skin of his trembling hands. But otherwise, he does not scream or give away any other indication to show his discomfort or how much pain he is under. Through the discomfort the action brings, he tries to focus on something other than the dizzying pain and swallowing the vitriol coating his tongue, he's determined to try to not get sick again.

The woman clicks her tongue disapprovingly and she lets go of her painful hold on his hair with a jerk, but doesn't step away. The dark-haired woman and the fair-haired adolescent boy have been going at this for over an hour now, and as his body's condition continues to deteriorate, the boy knows he can't take any more of the woman's abuse and assault for much longer.

For the last hour, she would routinely slam him against the unyielding wall over and over and again, repeatedly. Then, she would kick him with her steel-toed boots and using the metal end of her belt like a whip, flog him, until she would draw and see blood, or he'd beg her to stop between heaves and erratic sobs smeared with blood. Even then, sometimes, she would not stop and would not show mercy.

Nevertheless, he knew that he needed to stay strong for his brothers and sisters, but he could feel his resistance crumbling as his consciousness threatened to fade. The others who more or less are around his age, several a few years or two older, and no more than a handful of them, the younger ones. For them, he's enduring.

Understanding that, if he wants her to leave the rest of the children alone and out of this torture and abuse, he needs to endure, stay conscious, and keep maintaining all of her focus and vicious anger directed only on himself, so that his efforts wouldn't go to waste. To keep them all safe, he is willing to be the sacrifice and lay his life in exchange for theirs, if that's the price he has to pay. After all, they have been the only family he has ever known and love.

Adamant, her hand clutches the belt tightly within her white-knuckled grasp with sadistic glee as she exerts her domineering power over her precious and gifted boy and trembles with the surge of her fury. Face obscured by the eerie shadows her inky hair casts upon her angular features as it frames and veils her expression from his view, all he can see is how she sneers grotesquely up at him from between glimpses of unobstructed view.

Saying nothing, shivering and trembling with pain, dread, and insurmountable fear, which has been worked into him with each kick and strike of the woman's belt, two heads taller than she is and the very source of her unhinged fury, the adolescent boy stands valiantly before the woman abusing him with the support of the bricked wall behind him.

Despite her anger and indignation, if only because of his valor, she is proud of him. Because after everything she had done to him, he is still standing, bruised, battered, and bloodied and not a sound had escaped his full lips, now bloodied and split, but the occasional shuddering whimper. Her eyes rove over him appraisingly, assessing the damage she has inflicted upon him and her savage sneer widens –he'd done much better than she anticipated.

"Please…" The boy doesn't know what he is pleading for, the moment the plea forms in his mouth and he utters it; he just wants it all to end. That way, he can finally allow the darkness that's been creeping at the periphery of his vision to eclipse the pain and allow himself to surrender to the blissfulness of not feeling.

Because right then, he knows that 'this is it' and that... Somehow, they had gotten away with it and her unawareness had only lasted twenty-four hours and now, it didn't matter that he used to be her favorite, supposedly. Not anymore. As far as he was concerned, the favoritism she usually showed him wouldn't save him from what she had in store for him, once he cracked and he knows he will, and that it is only a matter of time. Then, he would finally tell her what he had done and then, she would truly make him pay.

"What did you do?" If her voice is any indication and could be seen as promises, what awaits him is a world of broken pain, which he suspects he probably will not survive. Her voice sounds like thousands of heated shards, lanced at his naked body with the intentions to maim and piercing, replacing every standing hair follicle on his trembling body and cutting, twisting in deeper. Further damaging and humiliating him. Because he has brought the force of her wrath upon himself, he has good reason to fear... Though it pains him to do so, the boy shakes his head adamantly. "Who did it then?"

"No– I–" he stutters. Trembling and staggering to stay upright, he pushes himself away from the support of the wall and totters forward a couple of steps, while she pulls him by the front of his shirt to where she wants him, like a master puppeteer handling her puppet's strings.

The back of his shirt, arms, legs, and all the way through the coarse fabric of his ripped jeans is bloodied and congealing, all except for his neck and face, which only contains mild and swelling bruises and tears with a smearing of fresh blood, while he stands where all the other children can see the evidence of his error and humiliation in full display, making an example of him, just like she wants.

Meanwhile, the others helplessly watch. Some with their eyes averted and others just watch on helplessly, while the younger ones, just five or six to eight, stare with tears in their eyes, tumbling and running down their flushed chubby cheeks, too afraid and unable to interfere when she is this furious. Though they want to help their own, they do not want to risk being an auxiliary to her rampaging wrath and or, evoke her ire be turned on them instead.

Therefore, they all stand there, watching and out of harm's way and as far away as she would allow from the scene that continues to unfold before their very wide and terrified eyes, like they always do when she corners one of them to extract information in this unorthodox manner. And yet, the boy does not blame them and does not gaze at them, for fear of engaging her attention on them.

"After everything I have done for you and this, is this how you repay me?" she demands with a hiss.

Circling around his quivering body like a predator would to a prey and he feels the cool leather of her belt, bent in half, touching his tender and bruised skin maliciously, while she probes and dares him to get out of line with the evident promise of its stinging kiss, just so she can hit him with it again. Unable to stop his counteraction, the teen flinches and a tremor runs through his lean limps, while running a tremulous hand through his wispy, flaxen locks uncertainly and tugging nervously.

The bite of the belt against the backs of his knees follows the wake of his actions. Gritting his teeth, no sound escaped him as he inhaled sharply against the prickled pain. This is the first time she has been this angry with him and so, he doesn't know what to do, or say, only what he feels… Which is the woman's escalating wrath and frustration at him, the others tangible fear and helplessness, and his own sense of dejection and fear.

"I'm sorry, Maria," he finally manages, while his lips quiver and teeth clatter with the constant violence of his shivers. Soon, too soon, his knees will give out, he knows. Chancing an apprehensive glance at Maria, the teen takes in the strained sight of her feral features transforming, jaw clenching, the way the corner of her lips twitch and nostrils flare, and blazing eyes bathed with contempt through her wide, malicious eyes.

Immediately, everything within him tells him to run and not look back, and more than anything, he wants to back away and do just that, but he can't. His lead-like feet are rooted to the spot, immobile. The only thing he manages is a small and pitiful whimper of apprehension, which rips unbidden through the passage of his bobbing throat and out his lips. Now, his violent shivers intensify and he can barely hold himself upright on his numb legs, knees wobbling and wanting to cave under his weight.

"What was that, Jasper?" Maria hisses dangerously and her belt zings through the air with a buzz, biting the backs of Jasper's knees deliberately cruel.

Every child gathered around them stiffens, inhaling collective breaths in their apprehension and wincing slightly as Jasper's knees give and he hits the floor with a harsh defeat. Ignoring the pain that jolts up his thighs as his knees painfully kiss and press against the splintered floorboards, Jasper, too, holds his breath, knowing that he has said the wrong thing, a moment too late, and that he'll have to repeat himself. Because, that is what Maria wants.

"I'm sorry..." Jasper murmurs again, and the room is so still and quite, breathless even, that were a pin to drop at that moment, the sound would be deafening and cutting.

"You are sorry?" Maria confirms.

Maria's voice is deceptively calm, for Jasper could see her eyes starting to grow cold and distant as they narrow menacingly and she holds his gaze for an infinitesimal moment. Knowing that he has no other alternative choice but to answer, Jasper lets out a shuddering breath, perceptively squares his shoulders, holds Maria's gaze unflinching, thankfully, and nods, just slightly, in the hopes that she wouldn't notice the motion. No such luck.

"You little fucker!" she viciously growls. "What are you sorry for?"

"I–" Before Jasper can register her doing so, Maria steps forward and slaps him hard across the face with her open palm. The force behind the slap is enough to turn his head and make him bite his tongue, and while Jasper registers the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, Maria's nails claw and rake at the delicate skin of his cheek on the retrieve and with a burning sting, draw blood.

Taking a step back, Maria's eyes are gleeful as she stands admiring the damage and enjoying Jasper's shock as he cradles his cheek against the sting and wetness, retrieves his hand, and gazes down to find it stained with fresh blood. Jasper's head snaps up in alarm and his eyes meet Maria's cruel stare pleadingly. Maria simply sneers.

"Blood…" Jasper chokes out, surprised and aghast. Or was it one of the other kids that had screamed? Though Maria has spilled Jasper's blood more times than he dared to count over the last hour or so, it is only now registering.

"It really was you..." Maria's feral and almond colored features transform into something grotesque and unattractive, though familiar as she glowers down at Jasper's prostrated form. "After everything we've endured and everything I have given you," she continues, "I have clothed you, fed you, and you dared to go behind my back and betray me?" Jasper shakes at her feet violently, breathing shallowly. "Why?" she demands, screeching, "Have I not been magnanimous enough with you?!"

If Jasper had not known any better, then he would have believed that the hurt and betrayal etching Maria's face and tone of voice was truly sincere. But he did know better and he knew it not to be true. Like everything else about Maria, it was all an elaborate act, a deception to try to ensnare him once more into a false sense of security.

Now, Jasper could not believe that he had once seen the woman belittling him now as someone who cared and loved him like a mother; the same way he thought he loved her in turn. Unfortunately for Jasper, after he first came to live with Maria and the rest of the children in the foster home, it had taken him ten years to understand the malicious nature of Maria's true colors.

"He's my brother..." Jasper mumbles and for the first time since Maria had started the brutal confrontation, and glad that he had done what he had for his brother and sister, at great personal risk, he allows himself to bask in his sense of pride without reprieve. "And she, my sister." It is barely a whisper, but he adds, "I will not betray them."

No regrets… Except, I should have gone with them. Jasper only now realizes.

"I think you've forgotten who you are and where you are, my boy," Maria mocks and laughs humorlessly. "Look around you!" she urges, her arms wide and sweeping aimlessly at their surroundings. "This isn't home. This is an orphanage!" Jasper swallows thickly as Maria draws closer to him and buries her fingers in his hair, tilting his head up jerkily with a harsh tug of his hair. "You have no brothers, no parents, no family, and no relations. Your sense of loyalty should only lie in me!" She reminds him and her voice takes on a sweeter decadence as she continues, "You are unwanted and that is why you were brought to me. Never forget that." Deceptively gentle, like a mother's touch, she caresses his stinging cheek delicately as she leans forward and affectionately kisses Jasper's painfully pounding chest, pressing her lips just over his erratic heartbeat.

No, no, no… that can't be true… Jasper silently prays. Then, Jasper swallows, feeling repulsed by her touch, but unable to will his body into action, so as to put as much distance between them and get away. He just doesn't have the strength any more and thus, he remains mute and still in his state of pain, feeling Maria's touch like acidic oil over his crawling skin. With deliberate slowness, Maria pulls back and with a sardonic smile playing at the corners of her lips, she leans in again.

Bringing her lips to brush against Jasper's ear, she whispers, "Same goes for the lot of them..." Though Jasper can't see her do it, he feels Maria point to the other children over her shoulder. "Are you really that naïve, Jasper? Enough to think that they all consider you their brother?" Jasper trembles and closes his eyes against the sound of her mocking, quiet laughter, wishing he had the strength to cover his ears instead. "If they were really your brothers and sisters," Maria muses, taunting, "don't you think they should be doing something to help you and take some of the blame themselves?"

"I wouldn't ask them to," Jasper whimpers, anguished.

"How about young Peter and Charlotte, hmm? Would you ask them, the ungrateful, little traitors you went behind my back and helped?" Maria's dangerous hiss sends a wave of unease through Jasper's system and it settles deep in his belly, making him want to barf what he hadn't already. "Why do you think they didn't ask you to come with them when you helped them escape? Where's their sense of loyalty to you, my dear boy?"

They did, they had! Jasper wants to shout. Instead, he remains tight-lipped. A trickle of doubt clouds his mind; just what Maria had been aiming for all along, with her subtle mind games. Feeling Maria's smile widening against the half-moon of his ear, Jasper shakes his head, and with it, too, his doubts away. She jabs at his bruised ribs and Jasper can't contain his scream of pain this time. One of the others' voices joins in on his scream, feeling Jasper's pain as their own, but is quickly stifled as not to call attention. Jasper is grateful for the distraction and a little worried.

Instantly, his eyes flutter open with some effort. Quickly scanning wherever his vision can reach in his urgent need to make sure that the others are okay, Jasper makes sure to keep his head steady and only his eyes do the looking. A moment later, his eyes locked gaze with Emily's, a pretty young girl that stared back at him with compassion in her almond shaped black eyes, shadowed with her thick, black hair, which goes down to her waist, and of no more than twelve years of age, with a horrible scar on her face, where Maria had once marred her.

The scar runs down the length of her right cheek, consisting of three deep and long gashes marring her otherwise unblemished sun-kissed skin, and done with a hot poker one night, during one of Maria's worse temper tantrums. Because, according to Maria, the young girl had been too pretty for her to be an orphan and attracting too much attention from the boys, especially Sam Uely's. It had been another one of Maria's lessons. However, in Jasper's opinion, despite the scar, Emily would grow to still be even more beautiful than she already is.

Maria delivers the final blow as she adds with a murmur, "They've probably forgotten all about you and how you helped them escape me, now that they are long gone…"

Pushing against Jasper's chest with the wide palm of her hand, Maria takes a step away from him and looks at him critically. Observing Jasper with her head tilted to one side and a condescending smile curving the corners of her supple, sanguine lips, Maria's visage transforms into a gloating sneer of triumph.

"It doesn't matter if they do," Jasper lies quietly and convincingly. Maria's smile vanishes and her eyes turn to slits. Fidgeting, he swallows and bravely continues. "I don't mind sacrificing myself for them, even if they didn't ask me to." Maria hisses for silence. "The blame is mine, there's no point in sharing it, and I'm not that sorry for helping Peter and Charlotte escape you!"

Again, Maria slaps him without warning or restraint and Jasper doesn't see it coming, until it is too late and her palm is hitting him painfully across his other cheek and drawing blood. This time, Jasper manages not to cradle his cheek and until the sting ebbs, refuses the urge. Jasper feels and sees the room spin as everyone starts to shout and speak all at once, like loose cannons, meanwhile, his back crashes heavily against the splintered floorboards, but Jasper struggles to keep Maria in sight and despite, remains cognizant with the last of his strength.

"Ungrateful little fucker!" (Slap!) "How dare you?" Maria is on top of Jasper and she is clawing and slapping him, again and again and– "Tell me now, where did they go and how did you manage to weasel those ungrateful little traitors out–?!" The room spins and Jasper has to close his eyes…

"You're killing him," Emily cries, Jasper recognizes, "Stop, please, please stop!"

"Do you want to die in his place instead?"

No, no… leave them alone… it's me you want. Jasper pleads and his fingers languidly flex around Maria's arm to restrain her and hold her to him, but she ignores him.

"Please, please… Stop…"

I'm okay… the pain is almost gone…

"You are all a bunch of ingrate little fuckers," Maria screeches indignantly, "the lot of you!"

Leave them alone! Take me and do whatever… Just leave them alone…

"Someone, hurry," a new and familiar voice instructs, "and call the police!"

"If you call the police," Maria threatens, "I'll kill him!"

Do it… Just leave them alone…

"You crazy bitch, get away from him!" Garret, his anger palpable, "You nearly killed him!"

If I could laugh… But it's okay… I'm the sacrifice…

"I– I c-called the p-police…" little Bree stutters.

Good… they'll be safe…

"Step away from him, Maria," Nettie cautions.

Maria still refuses. "No!"

There's a struggle and something slices through the air, static crackles in its wake…

What's going on…? The pain… it's back… why is the pain back?

"What did he ever do to you?!" I know this voice…

"Don't blame me! This is all your fault, you little traitors!"

"But you didn't need to stab him!" I know this voice, too…

Ah… so, that's why… it doesn't hurt any more…

"You –call an ambulance too!" As Lucy gives this instruction, I hear movement all around me, frantic.

"Someone, quick, bring me some towels, or any clean linen you can find," Nettie, instructs. The pitter-patter of running little feet follow this command, scurrying to obey and help. "We need to stop the bleeding…"

There's no need… I'll be fine… as long as they are….

"Please… let him live… he was only trying to protect us…"

Suddenly, Jasper's consciousness begins to ebb away and he can only feel and hear everything around him as if from a great distance, but muffled through water… Maria is screaming something fierce and the children are shouting and crying in protest…

Jasper feels like he might be crying. His body aches so much and he's sure he's broken, and then, though it can't be possible, Charlotte is holding his hand and Peter is telling him something that he can't catch…

"Stay with us, okay, Jasper?"

Okay…

"Jasper…" Apart from his name… the context of Peter and Charlotte's words are a garble that Jasper can't quite make out as he begins to wheeze and blood fills his lungs, causing him to cough it up. Charlotte cries and Emily is at their side, asking Peter to help her get Jasper on his side before he can choke on his own blood. She says her Daddy used to be a doctor…

Jasper can't will his eyes to flutter open so he can try to read Peter and Emily's lips… anyway, he's probably imagining things and Peter is probably not even here. But his eyelids feel too heavy… his limbs and body feels too heavy… but shortly, Jasper is floatingand soaring…

Then, there are sirens that wail in the distance and start to get nearer and louder, making Jasper's head pound with their shrillness, so Jasper gives up and succumbs to the blissful abyss…

Jasper's last thought, before his unconsciousness claims him is:

…

…They are safe, at last…

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A/N: So I had uploaded this previously with the intention of making it a one-shot, but as most everything else that I try to write, the story took a life and will of its own and became much more. Therefore, I'm dividing it and reposting it by chapters. By tomorrow, if I finally finish the revision, I'll have the second chapter up! Thank you for reading: Read + Review= New Chapter.