[Twilight] "Removing a Nuisance" -- PG-13
Author's Note: Written for comment_fic's Twilight, Edward & Bella, He can't resist the smell of her blood and drains her after her first day at school. WARNING: Blood and violence, character death.
Edward knew he should have skipped class that day: the blood test experiment always caused him no end of trouble, but this time it especially caused him grief. The instructor had partnered him with the new girl, Isabella Swan, the transplant from Arizona. He could smell the sunlight and the desert in her hair and skin, even though her skin was pale, that alone had him craving more. As she leaned closer over the table, he could hear her blood pulsing in her temples. He had to steal himself to keep from closing on her and ripping out her throat then and there. But he could not blow his cover: that would endanger the whole clan, let alone himself.
He obliged his hunger to wait, wait till after class, wait till after night had fallen. He had her scent and he could track it through the town.
He perched himself in a tree outside her window, where he sat watching her do her homework, her back to the window, not seeing him. All the better: that would maintain the element of surprise and sweeten her blood.
At length, she looked up as if someone had called to her: He could hear a man, probably her father, calling out that it was getting close to her bedtime. Getting up from her desk, she roved out of his sight, returning some minutes later clad in a man-sized tee shirt over grey sweatpants. That was to be expected,given her unassuming appearance and her rather bland personality. She got into bed and switched out the bedside light.
Now came the hardest part, waiting till she had fallen into a deep sleep. The prey's fright was the most potent when the prey had been awakened. He waited until he felt the other human presence in the house fall asleep as well. Then, only then did he pry open the window and enter her room.
Slipping across the room, he mounted the bed, kneeling over her. She stirred at the change in the weight on the mattress, but did not awaken. Unsheathing his fangs, he sank them into the flesh of her throat, sucking the blood that flowed freely from the injury. Her eyes flipped open and she tensed beneath him. He placed a hand on her mouth, gently silencing her if she tried to scream. She tried to push him away, but his weight pressed her onto the mattress, immobilizing her.
The sweetness of her blood nearly made her gasp. Considering how she hid her emotions, one would never think there would be so much to flavor it: aside from the sheer panic and the swooning pleasure from the rush of endorphins flooding her blood, he sensed ennui, a casual mopiness at her allegedly horrible lot in life, the kind of cocktail that he usually tasted in the so-called "emo kids" one found in so many suburban neighborhoods, adolescent humans whose worst tragedies were the normal problems of ordinary life. Sure it was a tragedy that her family had split apart, but going by her memories, it did not come as a surprise: her parents were as unevenly marked in personality as they came.
He drank deeply, making sure that he took her lifeblood, so that he wouldn't leave behind a childe he was not willing to tend: she was not the sort he wanted to bring into the coven: moping vampires were a dime a dozen these days. He felt her racing pulse skip and grow thready; her heart beat more and more erratically and he felt her skin grow cool. Her attempts at fighting him grew weaker, till her hands fell limp on the pillows. Finally, as he felt the flow of blood slow to a stop, he felt her lie still in death.
He got up, licking the last of her blood from her wound and from her lips. This would keep him fed for a week and it would take this shallow nuisance out of his territory.
Edward knew he should have skipped class that day: the blood test experiment always caused him no end of trouble, but this time it especially caused him grief. The instructor had partnered him with the new girl, Isabella Swan, the transplant from Arizona. He could smell the sunlight and the desert in her hair and skin, even though her skin was pale, that alone had him craving more. As she leaned closer over the table, he could hear her blood pulsing in her temples. He had to steal himself to keep from closing on her and ripping out her throat then and there. But he could not blow his cover: that would endanger the whole clan, let alone himself.
He obliged his hunger to wait, wait till after class, wait till after night had fallen. He had her scent and he could track it through the town.
He perched himself in a tree outside her window, where he sat watching her do her homework, her back to the window, not seeing him. All the better: that would maintain the element of surprise and sweeten her blood.
At length, she looked up as if someone had called to her: He could hear a man, probably her father, calling out that it was getting close to her bedtime. Getting up from her desk, she roved out of his sight, returning some minutes later clad in a man-sized tee shirt over grey sweatpants. That was to be expected,given her unassuming appearance and her rather bland personality. She got into bed and switched out the bedside light.
Now came the hardest part, waiting till she had fallen into a deep sleep. The prey's fright was the most potent when the prey had been awakened. He waited until he felt the other human presence in the house fall asleep as well. Then, only then did he pry open the window and enter her room.
Slipping across the room, he mounted the bed, kneeling over her. She stirred at the change in the weight on the mattress, but did not awaken. Unsheathing his fangs, he sank them into the flesh of her throat, sucking the blood that flowed freely from the injury. Her eyes flipped open and she tensed beneath him. He placed a hand on her mouth, gently silencing her if she tried to scream. She tried to push him away, but his weight pressed her onto the mattress, immobilizing her.
The sweetness of her blood nearly made her gasp. Considering how she hid her emotions, one would never think there would be so much to flavor it: aside from the sheer panic and the swooning pleasure from the rush of endorphins flooding her blood, he sensed ennui, a casual mopiness at her allegedly horrible lot in life, the kind of cocktail that he usually tasted in the so-called "emo kids" one found in so many suburban neighborhoods, adolescent humans whose worst tragedies were the normal problems of ordinary life. Sure it was a tragedy that her family had split apart, but going by her memories, it did not come as a surprise: her parents were as unevenly marked in personality as they came.
He drank deeply, making sure that he took her lifeblood, so that he wouldn't leave behind a childe he was not willing to tend: she was not the sort he wanted to bring into the coven: moping vampires were a dime a dozen these days. He felt her racing pulse skip and grow thready; her heart beat more and more erratically and he felt her skin grow cool. Her attempts at fighting him grew weaker, till her hands fell limp on the pillows. Finally, as he felt the flow of blood slow to a stop, he felt her lie still in death.
He got up, licking the last of her blood from her wound and from her lips. This would keep him fed for a week and it would take this shallow nuisance out of his territory.