Triggered

Light dances and sparkles across her face, the sun's rays blanket her warm cheeks and shimmer as they are reflected by my own face onto the luminescent canvas of her skin. Her tiny pink tongues ventures out to coat her pouty upper lip in saliva, making it glisten even brighter in the sunlight.

Mahogany and wine hair puddles around her face and shoulders, contrasting naturally against the vibrant green of the grass below us. Individual strands catch the light breaking through the trees and they shine like tiny live wires, dancing and floating in the slight breeze.

Her eyes are closed and her long, deep brown lashes throw shadows above her cheekbones. Heat radiates off her form, even more poignant against my skin than the warmth of the sun above us. Her heartbeat pounds in my ears.

Breathtaking. To a mere human she would be awe-inspiring - for me completely maddening. Devastating. Earth shattering.

Holy.

I am a moth to her flame, a repitant sinner at her altar. I reach out my cold dead hand to touch her.

My vision flickers in and out, and like a wrecking ball it hits me that I am not in the meadow - not really. I am not with her. Even though I know it isn't real I try desperately to hold on to the moment, I need a few more minutes to study the elegant line of her nose, the deep red tint of her lips. More than anything in the world I need to touch her, I need to feel her hot blood running rhythmically underneath her skin.

Somewhere far away, wherever my real body is, something crashes down - glass tinkers. Self preservation never crosses my mind, I only grasp at the fading vision of Aphrodite, willing myself to stay with her, in the warmth of her sunlight. Something else shatters and the vision flickers again, then it's gone.

I want to scream, but I don't have the strength for it. I haven't had that kind of strength in weeks. Not that I'd needed to use my voice lately, I am too dangerous for any type of close interaction with humans and I haven't spoke to my family in months. Some small part of me knows that they're likely looking for me, but I'm too far gone to do anything about it and too utterly empty to care. I lost - or rather abandoned - my cell phone months ago, on some dirty bus in some nameless town in Mexico.

My hallucination throughly dashed, I am completely aware of my body again, and I look down at my dirty form with detachment. My shoes and socks are missing - forgotten - and the rest of my clothes do not fare much better. The Cullen crest shines dully from the leather cuff hanging loosely on my wrist.

Steps. I hear steps. They are steadily rising up the decrepit stairs below me, advancing closer and closer to my hideaway. The building is abandoned and humans rarely enter it, never moving past the first floor. I know I should react, but I don't.

Instead I stare dumbly at a bent nail jutting crookedly from a crossbeam in the ceiling, and the steps march steadily closer, finally reaching the fifth floor, where the stairs end. There is silence for a few seconds and then I hear a thud as dust puffs up off of the floor, forming a cloud directly above the trapdoor that leads into the attic.

My eyes roll from the nail to the dust mites twirling through the air, each one spinning and rotating in all directions, running into one another clumsily. Like her.

"Edward?"

Did I imagine it? It wouldn't be the first time that my cruel mind has tortured me with an imaginary voice, catching me in a moment of weakness and allowing me a small moment of comfort before jarring me back to the real world - this putrid attic crawl space. Something about this voice is different though, and what makes it different is also what makes it so utterly unimportant.

It isn't her voice.

"Edward? Son?" The voice below me calls again. Yes, the voice downstairs is real, not like the meadow or the sunlight on her face or her chime-like voice that haunts me. The voice downstairs is lower, male, and oddly familiar.

Your family, you fucking fool my traitorous mind hisses at me, but I still don't move, only allowing my eyes to focus on the aerial acrobatics of the dust in the air.

Because it doesn't matter.

With a loud cry the trapdoor flips open and dust and debris explode into the already stuffy room, not that I had been breathing in the polluted air. A small amount of light spills in from the hole in the floor, and my sire rises up through the opening and lands with a near silent thud. A few seconds later, Alice emerges from the hole as well, cobwebs clinging to the spikes of her hair.

I watch the scene in front of me with honest disinterest, only facing toward it at all because I had already been staring in this direction when it started. I don't bother looking at either member of my family directly, instead focusing back on the oxidation of the nail in the crossbeam. I feel their stares on me but I only stare upwards, willing myself to fall back into oblivion. I want to forget everything.

"Edward?" Carlisle tries again, but I don't try to look at him and I'm not wholly sure that I could if I wanted to. My muscles feel as if they have atrophied from lack of use and nourishment. My last hunt is still in the room with us, rotting on the floor not far from Alice's four inch heel. Even that meal had been unintentional, taken in a moment of unconscious hunger. I vaguely recall listening with disinterest to a block party a mile or so down the street and when I came back to myself the rat was clutched in my dirty hands, crushed beyond all recognition. The blood was vile and unsatisfying and left a taste in my mouth much like tar - it was a fitting last meal.

Carlisle is now directly in my line of sight, staring at my face with concentration. I try to focus my attention on him but it's nearly impossible, like running through thick mud. In the same moment that I realize that he trying to speak to me in his thoughts, I realize that I can't hear them. This revelation doesn't bother me in the slightest.

Because it doesn't matter.

"He's not going to respond to you." My sister's voice is more similar to my Beloved's, but still not the same, so my interest quickly dissolves.

"We've got to get him out of here, at least get him something to eat. I don't even know if he's capable of responding."

"We can't move him until nightfall, there's too many people around, it's too big of a risk."

"Will he go willingly?"

There is a pause. "He can't do much else."

Their voices barely reach me, its almost as if they've already left, as if they were never really here. Truly I am already alone.

I drift.

Alice leaves. It doesn't matter.

Carlisle stays, not saying anything at all. He watches in silence as the faint light coming through the single opaque window fades from gray to orange then to a washed-out black. I'm grateful for the silence, and I spend my time simply staring - remembering. Falling.

Alice returns, Carlisle meets her at the trapdoor he carries an animal to me. I don't look to see what it is. I don't care. I flinch at the grating sound the animal makes into my face, but otherwise I don't react to its presence in front of me.

"Breathe in." Carlisle snaps, clearly becoming agitated. It would feel nice, to fill my lungs up with air again, but I stopped breathing months ago, after the rat incident. With humans in such close proximity I couldn't risk another unconscious hunting excursion.

I don't do as Carlisle says. I don't even look at him. From the corner of my eye I see Alice flinch harshly. Half a second later I feel the side of my face erupt in a harsh sting, the force of Carlisle's slap stunning me. Instinctively I suck air into my lungs, making a hissing sound through my teeth. I look at him, finally, meeting his black angry eyes with a look of resignation and shame on my face.

I suck in another breath and the smell of the goat is overpowering in the stuffy crawl space. Venom fills my mouth and the brush fire in my chest erupts in earnest, scorching the sides of my raw throat. I cough on the overwhelming scents and tastes in the air.

In the next second Carlisle pulls the animal onto my legs roughly, cracking its neck and biting into the throat. Blood pulses out of the wound and runs into my lap. Carlisle stands, leaving the body in my limp hands. I take in one more studdering breath before I lose myself and feed on the pathetic farm animal. My shoulders shake as my throat muscles pull the blood down my throat, dousing the fire that burns there. As I drink I notice voices, flickering in the back of my mind.

Once I finish I lay my head back against the wall and drop the limp body into my lap. My thirst is only barely quenched but already I feel so much stronger, thoughts from the humans surrounding us gurgle like a quick moving stream behind the more persistent inner dialogues of Alice and Carlisle. The goat's blood rushes through me, tingling as it feeds power back into my lank body.

It disgusts me. Physical weakness is a useful tool in staying away from her. If I can't get to her I can't go back, I can't ruin her life.

I am furious with myself for feeding again.

Edward. Carlisle's voice is loud and harsh. I turn my head to look at him, grateful that my neck still seems to work but still angry with myself and with Carlisle for his intrusion. Can you hear me? He asks me in a softer tone, but his lips don't move. I nod. His thoughts are relieved but still irritated.

Come back with us. This time the internal voice belongs to my sister, who squats down in front of me, putting her tiny cold hands below my ears. My jaw quakes when I remember the the dozens of times Bella's hand burned trails along the features of my face. The rage rushing through me turns into an even more painful grief.

I shake my head at Alice, hoping that she'll drop it but already resigned that she won't. Sure enough, her thoughts begin to race with how this is not healthy, how it's not helping the situation. I don't understand that thought at all, seeing as how my continued success at staying away from Bella is the only thing that brings me happiness or pride anymore.

Edward. Alice needles me, growing exasperated with my mask of aloofness. I bring my eyes to her and she looks at me with passion as she thinks sternly, This has gone on long enough. I miss her. We all miss her. I want to see her.

How fucking dare she. How fucking dare she come here to tell me about her withdrawals. Can she not see how hard this is for me? Why can they not understand that this is the only way? My newly returned strength coils in my body and for a brief moment I contemplate leaping on her. Her eyes trail off to the side of my face and then her attention snaps back to me. She takes two steps further away from me, toward Carlisle.

"You stay away from her." My voice comes out throaty and dead, but the warning behind my words is unmistakable.

"I see her all the time Edward, and she's so unhappy. She hates this. She feels lonely and betrayed and sh - "

"STOP IT!" I scream furiously. I am gulping in lungfuls of air, causing my chest to rise and fall jaggedly. The fragrant blood wafting in from outside - both animal and human - burns my throat and seems to fuel my anger, tinting the edges of my vision an angry red. "You...Y-you promised you wouldn't watch for her, Alice! Dammit, you promised!" I stuttered. My whole frame moved in sync with my heaving chest except my hands which shake violently, aching for an outlet for the pain coursing through me.

"I don't have to try to see her Edward, and you know that I just can't turn it off! I love her, and she's important to this family. And she's unhappy. Of course I see her!" Alice's tiny hands push into her hips as she stands in front of me, towering over my form in her high-heeled shoes.

"SHE'S MINE!", I thunder, but I quickly try to tamp the growing possessive anger in me, flowing through my very bones. Alice and Carlisle both stand silent for a fraction of second, but then continue to follow trails in their minds that lead to her. Places that will break me should I visit them again.

"Please don't talk about her. I can't take it." I'm pleading now, desperate to escape the situation, desperate to escape this life. All I have is Bella, who is too pure and fragile to be around me. I live for something I cannot see, for someone I cannot touch. However, just because I can't be with her doesn't mean I can't try to protect her. It doesn't mean that I am not still completely obsessed with her, primally possessive of her.

On top of the anger I feel at Alice for defying my ridiculous demands, I am even more filled with jealousy that Alice has seen her. The thought of Alice's visions allowing her to see my Beloved's blush, or hear her cry for me, or talk in her sleep, makes me almost nauseous with guilt and rage. I am suddenly powerfully envious of every human in the greater Seattle area, anyone who may have any chance at all of speaking a few passing phrases with her or catching her scent on the breeze as she walks past. I am jealous of our classmates, I am jealous of her father, her mother. Her pillows. The spoons she eats her disgustingly soggy cereal with.

Ignoring my plea, Alice continues to badger me in her mind. She's not just going to forget about us Edward. She wont just move on. Her future changes almost every day but it's hardly ever good.

Finally Alice breaks me, and although I know it will only torture me later I slump back and ingest Alice's inner ramblings concerning Bella as if they are bread and I am starving. I watch a slideshow of premonitions both fufilled and voided, I watch her pine for me, gluttoning myself on snapshots of her tortured face even while my heart shreds. I notice almost immediately when Alice's thoughts trail away from her evidence, so I push myself deeper into the recesses of her mind to find the cause of the distraction.

Bella in a dark car, a streetlamp illuminating her perfect heart-shaped face through the front glass. The lighting throws the shadows under her eyes into sharp contrast to the rest of her face, which seems strained and drawn. She's looking down at her hands in her lap, picking at her tattered fingernails and it seems as though her entire frame is vibrating. Is she nervous? She says that she's not good enough, that something's not right with her, and when she speaks I notice that she isn't alone in the car. Mike fucking Newton is sitting in the driver's seat, the muted light of the streetlamp making his hair appear an odd blueish white. His whole body is turned toward Bella's frame, and he shakes his head sadly as Bella finishes her self-depreciating speech.

Slowly, Newton's hand moves from his side to Bella's face, reaching through her thick mane of hair to cup her reddening cheek. Her faces lifts to his and he leans in closer, taking his time approaching my Beloved. She stays still, eyes as wide as a frightened fawn, holding in her breath, back tense. Newton's eyes stays open as he closes the final inches, watching Bella's face. She watches his lips. After another torturous second he presses his mouth to hers, holding his face completely still, as if letting Bella adjust. He tentatively squirms in his seat, turning his body closer to hers then removing his lips from her mouth only to push them back again, not keeping them frozen this time. Bella's body hasn't moved, her arms still hang limp at her sides and her spine is a harsh straight line.

She finally breathes heavily against his mouth, which seems to encourage him. A single tear slides unnoticed down her cheek and she begins moving her lips slowly against his, picking up intensity after a heavy moment.

Sometime during the vision my hands force themselves through the floorboards, cracking supports and causing the whole structure to groan in protest. All that I can think is no.

no. no. no.

NO.

No.

My eyes roll back into my head when Mike's hand moves along her throat, brushing Bella's hair back from her neck delicately. The same ivory column that I've peppered a hundred kisses on. My neck. I watch his fingers twist lazily through her hair as his mouth presses incessantly against her lips, my lips. My girl. I am both stunned and grief-stricken.

Both emotions are quickly being replaced by something so raw that I fear I may rip myself to tatters. The images before my eyes shade red - no, bloom red - before the vision finally releases me from its hold, seeming to explode into a thousand tiny shards that slice and burrrow into my soul. Rage bubbles up in me, so powerful and overwhelming that it seems impossible.

She is mine. He is touching what is mine. Mine.

How could I have ever believed I could do this?

Alice's eyes are still glossed over with the future, and Carlisle is looking between the two of us in panic. I finally realize that I'm making a high keening sound, something totally inhuman and strong enough to vibrate the already tipsy building, making the human minds for blocks anxious, raising mysterious goosebumps along their arms. Carlisle's thoughts are on Alice, who is still in the throes of her vision - my hell. My apocolypse.

I realize that this is my only chance.

Alice doesn't emerge from her trance, but when I make my decision a sharp gasp escapes her parted lips. Carlisle jumps to her side and in one quick motion I jerk my hands out of the gaping holes in the floor and I throw my body directly out of the wall behind me.

My exit causes the attic and top floor of the structure to crumble inward on itself, the groans and squeels of the crash reverberating through the neighboorhood. In my mind I hear several dozen humans start at the commotion. Ten or so start the process of investigating out of their windows.

I don't care. It doesn't matter. I run through the streets at an inhuman speed, not caring who sees or whether they believe their eyes or not. As I reach the end of the block I hear Alice and Carlisle yelling for me to stop in their thoughts. Nevertheless, I head for the edge of the city, hoping that I can control my rapidly growing thirst until I reach the wilderness. If I fail, it's not the end of the world. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter.

All that matters is getting back to Forks and reclaiming what's mine.

Mine.

APOV -

Pieces of wood and cement push into various parts of my indestructible body, making me feel slightly claustrophobic, annoying me but not hurting me. My father breathes quietly a few feet away. Humans are gathering outside, we both know its too big of a risk to take off after Edward in front of them all so we wait in the rubble, listening to the humans argue about whether there could have been anyone in the abandoned tower.

Vision after vision flies past my eyes, barely giving me time to comprehend the overall implications, much less any finer details. They all involve the beautiful brown eyes of Bella, so expressive and wide. Most also involve blood, screams, police. A few involve the Volturi. My mind reels with the overload.

In a nearly silent whisper Carlisle asks me, "Is he heading for Forks?"

"Yes, I think so."

As soon as I speak another vision sweeps me away, this one clearer than the others. Once again, all I can do is gasp as the horrific scene plays out in front of me. When it's over my body shudders.

"He's not himself. I think he's lost his mind."

"Yes, he's fell beyond reason. She is his mate." Carlisle states quietly, as if it explains all of this. "We knew this was a possibility. All we can do is follow him and try to save who we can."

More visions flash before my glazed gaze, snippets of tearstained faces and smears of red and black, the ruby, mad eyes of our newborn kind. "He'll kill them both. He can't make it to Forks before it happens."

Carlisle sighs and whispers, "We'll wait for a few more minutes then we'll go after him."

"We wont be able to catch him."

"We still have to try, dear" is his answer.