Chapter inspired by Angeleena.

Edward's point of view; after Bella died.

She died.

The highlight of my life, the bane of my existence.

Bella.

She died in my arms.

I saw her eyelids flutter closed after I kissed her.

She tasted so sweet, like the sweetest wine.

I am leaning on the bench, clutching her body closer to mine. The lilt of her voice still echoed in my ears, her words repeating like a broken record.

"Ed..ward…Love you…So much..Forgive..me….Love..yo..Edw..rd,"

I can't shake the guilt manifesting inside me. I broke her, I killed her.

As much as she tried to ease my culpability, I know I was…harsh doesn't even cover it. My words were cutting, sharp with the conviction that my austerity will snap her out of her superfluous starvation. But I was erroneous, stupid. I killed her.

My tears were flowing freely now, my body spasming with my grief. It was more intense than when Rosalie died. It was fiercer than when I broke my rib, although I wished to die then. It was way more brutal than anything I've ever experienced.

I felt two small hands wrap around my torso, tears soaking through my black shirt.

Black. Bella mostly wore black.

I knew I have to try and stop thinking about her, I knew I had to protect myself.

I can't. I won't.

She was the only reason I was alive. I had no one to live for anymore. My parents ran away, each with their own partner.

My sister died of anorexia, much like my beloved. And if the luxury of thinking of her was taken away from me; I'd rather rot in Hell than face the world as is.

I loved her, and I always will.

I remember one time I was sitting in class, as usual overhearing Alice and Bella speak. Bella had lost more weight. She had worn the same black Ed Hardy t-shirt before, now it looked like it was looser. Her small waistline lost more inches, her curvaceous figure seeming more..boyish? I recall the first time I saw her; I was entranced by her beauty, the feminine curve of her back, her perky ass, womanly hips. Now she seemed sick.

Don't get me wrong, she was not perfect. Her skin was not perfectly clear; she had your usual teenage acne. Underneath them, however, was a fair skin, the colour of porcelain. Her hair was curly, yet shiny and a rich chestnut brown. Her hips flared a bit out of proportion. She didn't have the perfect body, who did after all? Yet she looked so healthy, so radiant. She didn't seem more than a size 8 or 10. In my opinion, that's a perfect mix between slender and curvy. She was everything I've ever wanted.

Now she looked waifish, like Kate Moss in that CK underwear ad. Like Rosalie.

Rosalie.

No.

She can't.

She…

"And yet she hangs there, in an absolute moratorium, a cessation. The wind could bid her movement, silent, beautiful. A leaf in the wind's way. Light, thin. Like a gossamer hanging on the altar's arch, torn by a mere tug. Wish I that was I." Alice's shrill voice sounded so high as usual. What was she hooked on, narcotics?

"Give that back Alice. Now."

I glanced over to her sound. Seeing the dilation of her pupils, the hunch of her torso, ready for a fight. I saw her shake her hand twice, and saw the tattoos embedded on her skin. I couldn't decipher what they were from here, yet they looked sinister. I could swear that was a skull.

She seemed like the incarnation of my own version of salvation. Love. Desire. Destiny. Life. Meaning.

Grow a pair Cullen; don't let Jasper see the soppy look on your face.

Oh he isn't. He is too busy ogling Alice.

Ever since Jasper first saw Alice in the Social Responsibility Club, he –his words- fell in love.

As if.

Bella snatched the copybook out of Alice's hand and tucked it in her bag, as if hiding a secret. It all clicked.

Bella's resemblance to Rosalie was frightening. My epiphany that I had figured a minute ago seemed suddenly to make sense, too much sense. Bella was an anorexic.

Rosalie had the same reaction when I read a similar quote to the one Bella possesses. "It's something I've written for a long time Ali, no need to fret."

Bingo.

Why do you care Cullen? What, do you love her?

Love her? Of course I do.

If love could occur after no encounters between two people, then yes, I do.

Love at first sight.

"Edward?" Alice's tentative voice broke my haze.

"What?" I rasped, my voice hoarse.

I felt her fists clench over the black material of my shirt. Oh, she was the one clutching it.

"The nurse is back."

My rage boiled over.

Alice's point of view.

Edward and I now sat in the university's form of a lobby, waiting for Bella's parents, Charlie and Renee, to come and pick their daughter's dead body up.

Another sob shook my frame, and Edward clutched me closer. His own sobs were as strong as they started out to be, and who can blame him.

Bella is gone.

Funny how you could feel so much for someone you've only met for less than a year. Love works in complex ways I suppose.

Yes, I love Bella. No, I am not a lesbian.

Bella for me was a sister; one that had something wrong going on with her for a while now.

She dwindled, losing more weight by the second. Less food, more cigarettes, extremely more exercise.

I told her before she had some anorexic aspects. She laughed it off.

Edward must have figured it out before I did.

I knew she loved him. It was apparent like the sun from the look on her face every time he entered the Maths 112 class. She was hooked; and like the self depreciating girl she is, I was always sure that she did not notice him staring at her. She was strange like that.

Some closure was due, for both Edward and I.

I started.

"You love her."

He stared at me, a frown on his face. His eyes were agonised, tear stains running down his cheeks.

"Yes."

"What happened to her?"

His face twisted, eyes burning. His expression made me feel like I was infantile, like a poser in grief.

His reply, alternative to his expression, was so curt.

"She sliced her arm open."

I flinched, remembering the sight of her arm, shirt soaked in blood, as was Edward's shirt when he kissed her.

This kiss…felt so intimate. So private. I simply had to look away when they kissed. It was the kiss of death.

In another situation I would have laughed at the irony. Now, not so much.

I snorted instead at his answer.

"Yeah, I kind of saw that. What I meant was, why?"

Now he winced.

"I…That's none of you're business."

I opened my mouth to snap back, but he made it unnecessary.

"I'm sorry Alice, I shouldn't take it out on you, you were close to her after all."

"No worries. I already know how important she was to you."

"I wonder how that is." I couldn't decide whether this was a case of heavy sarcasm or was he truly curious.

I went with the second.

"Both of you couldn't look away from each other for a very long time Edward. She was not herself after the semester ended; didn't you notice how she seemed to disappear into thin air everyday?"

"That, Alice, is the main reason she isn't here now."

"You confronted her, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Just when he was about to answer, we heard the voices of two people echoing loudly, arguing.

"..Not my fault Charlie, she did it. I hate her. She always causes trouble." The sound was bordering on derision by the sound of it. I knew it was Renee, Bella's mother.

"Tone it down a notch Renee." Here comes Charlie.

Edward spoke. "Are those..?"

I grimaced. "Yes."

They rounded the corner, and there they were.

Renee didn't look much like Bella; her pallor was there, only more pronounced on her daughter. In opposition to Bella's white complexion, Renee was almost flushed, and not because of the anger. She was curvy, almost like Bella before she's become a food-phobic.

Sorry. An anorexic.

Her hair was strawberry blonde, waving attractively around her face and shoulders. Her make up was perfectly done, her ensemble immaculately ironed. Was this the image of a woman who has just lost her daughter and came to retrieve the corpse?

Charlie was no better. He wore a crisp suit, the remains of his hair brushed back. With a jolt, I realised that it was the same colour and texture of Bella's curls. His pointed chin, almond-yet-a-bit-rounder shaped eyes, eyebrows and mouth just like my deceased friend's. He wore an expression of grief, yet the grief was tainted by disappointment, like she failed him by dying in public.

Honestly, I appreciate the fact that they are a well-respected businessman and an important doctor. But shouldn't they look more morose? You know, dead daughter and all?

My face twisted in revulsion of these quasi-parents and pity for my dead friend.

I glanced at Edward to see that he shared my sentiments, given by the look on his face.

"Poor her." He murmured.

"Renee?"

"Of course not! I am talking about…B..Bella." his voice broke.

So I was right. Twice. He didn't like them, and he couldn't say her name.

I marched forward. Literally marched to these so-called parents and started.

"Are you Mr. and Mrs. Swan?"

Renee spoke.

"You must be Alice, her friend."

I was angered by the way she said "her", as if she didn't have a name.

"I am Alice, yes, Bella's friend."

She had the audacity to not even colour, the bitch.

"How did it happen?" Charlie asked.

It? Okay, if they want it all bitchy, who am I to refuse?

"Bella committed suicide." Edward answered. I wasn't aware of him standing next to me.

"You."

Renee pointed at him accusingly.

"She painted you; she has the picture in her room."

Edward gaped while Charlie scowled.

"It makes sense, I guess." I spoke. "She loved him."

"My daughter did no such thing."

We all ignored Charlie.

"I loved her too." Oh Edward, poor thing.

Renee seemed ready to snap.

"She was a bitch, this moron. How dare she die on me? She was nothing, I am her mother. Useless dissapointing thing. She.."

"Mrs. Swan, please. Stop insulting her."

"How dare you.."

I cut in. "Did you know your daughter was anorexic?"

They stood in silence.

Charlie talked first. "What?" His voice was barely audible.

"She was, and when she was faced up to it, she was scared and ran off to the only place she knew no one would hurt her. She told me once that the way you showed her your attention made her feel pressured, and that she had no ultimate say in her life, that you had a hand over every aspect. She always felt inadequate, like she couldn't give you enough in opposition to what you give her: tuition, car, place to live just to name a few. I guess now that this pressure drove her to places that were not so good for her. So I doubt she was a useless dissapointing thing. I distinctly remember too that she told me that she didn't want to study Business, that she faced hell when she got her tattoo, that she was fought with when she refused to work with you when she was thirteen, and that she found no love in a house where the first instincts were to shout, hit and threaten. And still she worked her ass off to get you a high GPA, respectable image and a good reputation. I presume now you should reconsider the moron here."

Renee was about to retort when Charlie cut her.

"You sure know a lot about Bella."

I nodded, still defensive.

"Did you..confront her?"

Edward was about to speak when I stepped on his foot.

"Yes."

Renee shrieked. "You killed her, not I. You see Charlie? This…."

"Shut up, Renee." He warned, looking around him at the receptionists.

She glowered, but remained silent.

He whispered. "Where is she?"

I pointed him to the building, and he towed Renee with him, walking out without as much as a second glance.

"Alice?"

"Yes Edward?"

"Why did you do that?"

I understood what he meant.

"I don't want Bella to hate her parents because they insulted you, Edward."

He looked at me, saying in a soft voice.

"She isn't here anymore Alice, her soul is gone."

"You are mistaken. She will always be here, in our hearts."

He smiled wistfully, a distorted expression, but then said something that made me tear up.

"And I am sure that she would hate them if they hurt you at all Alice, she loves you."

I noticed the present tense he used, and I smiled at him.

He hugged me, and we shared a moment when we both mourned the loss of the same person; my precious friend, and his soul mate.

One week later; Edward's point of view.

Tap. .

The church's microphone drummed. Someone trying it, I presume.

I was at Bella's …. funeral.

It was easier now to say her name, yet the words were like salt poured over bleeding wounds. Torturing. Agonising. Killing.

It seemed caustic, both literally and figuratively, that mere words could make you double over in pain, especially words that have been uttered before, over your own sister. A sister that you grieved over, yet didn't feel your heart rip apart for.

That was that. Bygones were bygones. Both girls died; the only two that mattered in my whole existence on the face of this earth. Gone.

I wondered if I believe in Karma. Maybe my resentment of Rosalie for leaving me ignited some karmic revenge system, taking my words and throwing them back in my face. Back in Rosalie's funeral, I had said that anorexics did not deserve life. And here I am, begging for some sort of phenomenon to revive the angel resting in the open casket that Alice and I were heading towards.

Bella left us, yet she did throw some sort of bond over both of our beings. We became the closest of friends; she somehow sucked Jasper in with us, becoming a one tight group. I didn't see, or want to for that matter, my old friends anymore. Or maybe acquaintances were the right word. Funny how everything changed since last week. Since she was gone.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself and gripped Alice's hand harder, for the casket was right in front of us. For a viewer, we sure looked like a couple. We knew better.

I looked, and started.

Bella's body was very fragile-looking, her translucent skin even more so. She looked like..a corpse. Never have I imagined, when I dreamed of seeing her again every night of last week, that I won't see what I remembered.

She was there, tattoo obvious through the flimsy material of white. This must be some consolation. It proved that it was Bella. It proved that she was the girl I got my tattoo for. The day I first saw her.

I felt Alice's body shake beside me, and I took her under my arm. She loved Bella.

We withdrew, trying to numb the pain. I was dying inside, and I deserved every bit of it.

"Edward."

Charlie called for me, sitting on a bench in the front, right in front of the casket.

"Mr. Swan."

He looked like a man whose life has been sucked out of him. Alice told me that Bella said that her father loved her, yet his love was either limited to the tough section in the fucking parenting book, or to being overly affectionate. Weird he would look so sad.

"I…."

"Edward."

Renee, the crazy mother cut in. She seemed to be over the self-praising denial of her involvement in Bella's suicide and fucking finally realised that her daughter is gone.

"Yes, Mrs Swan."

"I wanted to give you these," she handed me a black notebook, with the word "Bella" written in cursive bold letters in crimson across the front, and the painting Bella made of me. "they were hers, and you might like to have them."

"I can't.."

"I've got copies."

"Mrs…."

"It's Renee, and I want no complaints. I know I behaved selfishly for the past ten years of Be..her life, but I am atoning right now," a sob shaked her, and Charlie held her tighter, looking miserable "and I like to think that my preventing and curbing of her was for her safety only. It indeed was for her safety, but also for mine. I wanted her to be protected, and I wanted myself to be in control. It seems ludicrous now, that after everything I've done, she still left us."

"What does the diary have to do with anything, Renee?"

"She loved you Edward-" Charlie nudged her and coughed, but she disregarded him. "-she did, and this diary showed me how she was not what I thought she was. I thought she was going through a rebellious teenage drama, but my daughter was much more mature than that. I feel like I don't know her. She was suffering for and because of us. If I give you this now, she might just forgive me, "she held Charlie's hand "forgive us."

"Thank you. Both of you."

I was truly thankful. I got a part of her to keep with me.

The casket was being lowered into the ground now, nailed shut.

I felt like my soul was buried down with it.

The realisation that I will never see her face again, never hear her talking to Alice, laughing or smiling at her, never hear her telling me that she loved me again caught up with me.

With a wild gasp, I clutched my heart over the black suit. Bella was never going to be mine. I was never going to kiss her, see her, hold her, talk to her. Every dream I've ever had, disappeared. Every moment I've imagined spending with her, gone.

Vanished.

The church men threw the dirt back over the casket, and over my dying heart.

The sense of loss stopped my senses, I could no longer see or hear, smell, feel or taste anything except for her.

He threw the final shovel-full of dirt and walked away. By the end of the summer, I was sure that the moss would grow over it, along with the flowers.

Encasing her in nature's beauty.

Everyone was retreating now, leaving me to say my goodbye.

I moved forward, my knees shaking and I fell forward, landing on them.

I cried over her grave for hours, talking to her and asking for forgiveness, murmuring my love and apologising. And crying, always crying.

The sun was going down, and I looked up from the ground for the first time since I sat down and looked at her tombstone. The epitaph said,

"Dusk has always been the best time of my day, miracles will always happen then."

Under it were the words "Isabella Marie Swan. 1992-2010. Loved daughter, appreciated friend, treasured lover."

I sobbed loudly, the tears catching in my chest.

It was dusk already, but I never got my miracle. For my miracle was buried underneath my hands.

I briefly considered digging up her grave, like Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, but thought better of it.

If she has found Heaven, I wouldn't want to disturb her.

"I wish you are in Heaven, baby.

"I will love you forever."

Right then, the breeze blew cold on my face, moving through my hair like her fingers did the only time she kissed me. I wondered if this was what she meant by my miracle.

I closed my eyes.

"Edward…."

Her voice sounded in my ears, whispering.

Yes?

"My heaven is where you are."

I was astounded, can she come to life? I was always a realist, but now I wished fairytales were real.

"No Edward, I can't come to life. Can you come to me?"

Always my angel, always.

"Come to me, baby. I love you."

Oh Bella.

"I will wait for you, Edward. When you are ready, I will be waiting."

I lied next to her grave, extracting my knife from where I had it always secured around my calf. She won't have to wait for long.

It seemed somehow providential, that we both die with a knife.

"I love you Bella."

I closed my eyes, retracting the cut my love did to leave me, wishing that death could come quickly for me to join my beloved.

Bella.

Yes, he died too. For some reason, Edward and Bella give me the same distinct impression of suicidal love as Romeo and Juliet.

Let's leave it at that.

Review please?