Twilight -- A Morbid Game [Jasper/Bella/Edward]
Title: A Morbid Game
Author: Mariusgirl
Fandom: Twilight
Character: Bella (Bella/Edward, Bella/Jasper)
Prompt: #29 - Breakdown (fanfic50), Spilled Milk (t_w_c)
Word Count: 1,067
Rating: PG
Summary: Every time she closes her eyes she sees her future spread out before her like a roadmap leading to nowhere. Her pages are turning, unfinished and fading without him. Each heartbeat bringing her closer to the breaking point as she teeters precariously on the edge of reality, playing chicken with the reaper in the shadows.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
An innocent rush of blood from a small inconsequential wound. A terrifying snarl ripped from a predator’s throat.
Every time she closes her eyes she sees her future spread out before her like a roadmap leading to nowhere. Her pages are turning, unfinished and fading without him. Each heartbeat bringing her closer to the breaking point as she teeters precariously on the edge of reality, playing chicken with the reaper in the shadows.
This is her life and it’s ending. One heartbeat at a time.
-----
He’s sprawled across the couch pretending to watch TV when she enters the room. A quick glance in her direction and she feels the heat rush to her face as memories of her last birthday flash unbidden through her mind.
A haunting sneer explodes across his handsome features and she can swear she sees his butterscotch eyes sweep admiringly across her small frame. But the moment passes and he’s looking her in the eye, horrorstruck at his momentary lapse.
A flutter of her heart and another rush of heat and he’s gone in a blur, leaving her staring into cold empty space.
----
I love you slides naturally from Edward’s smooth lips and she finds herself waiting for more.
His perfect diction feels deficient for reasons that she can’t quite fathom.
Something is missing because something has changed.
She’s waiting for a drawl that he does not posses to warm the words and make them feel right.
But the slow intonation she’s come to love does not tumble from his perfect lips. Only from the forbidden lips of another.
-----
Her body burns and she’s choking on the screams in her blistered throat. Air rushes out but it’s hard to force back in. Fire that cannot be doused - even by love - spreads the poison through her body as she writhers and thrashes beneath the stone grip of her husband. Pained eyes stared down at her and she wants to scream for him to stop the fire, but it’s too late.
Tears that she can no longer cry stain her perfect face, and cold, blood red eyes stare back at her from the frozen reflection in the mirror.
A moment of elation melts into a moment of sheer terror as she realizes that she’s gotten exactly what she’s asked for. And so much more.
But there’s no going back now, the damage is done, and this is one wrong that cannot be righted.
Second chances are mere ashes in the wind.
-----
He shakes his head in mute disappointment when he thinks she’s not looking, and she knows he’s mourning more than her loss of innocence. Even as he embraces her as his new sister, she knows that her transformation troubles him more than any of the others - something that has lain long dormant inside of his scarred soul resurfaces and she knows she is to blame for Jasper’s sudden departure from their family.
-----
It’s hard to meet her new sister’s eye. The words that do not pass between them hang like toxic ash in the air.
The biting implication in her golden gaze tears virulently at her now stilled heart and makes her long for the tears that she left behind with the last strands of her mortal life.
Every movement and every casual smile belies the truth that lays locked beneath the flawless façade of benign sisterly affection.
She feels the unspoken words as they flood like wildfire through every useless pore in her body.
I told you so.
-----
Blood splatters across her white t-shirt and her eyes darken to red, the frozen topaz melting away, the crimson sores matching the stains on her still shaking hands.
Revulsion and self loathing languish as she steadily avoids home.
It doesn’t matter that she’s getting soaked in the tempest as it blows through unexpectedly. The water falling in a steadily increasing rhythm around her - the crescendo jarringly like that of a heartbeat moments after she’s moved in for the kill - but unlike her unsuspecting victim the rain does not fade away.
He finds her huddled beneath the dripping limbs of an ancient tree and she refuses to meet his gaze because she knows that the silent understanding that his golden eyes hold for her will make her feel even worse. Like something has died within her - the last of her humanity? And she feels the urge to scream. But she doesn’t. It wouldn’t do her any good in the end.
This is not the life she wanted. This is not the life she envisioned before the venom ate away her heart.
In her moments of self denial and abhorrence, an angry little voice in her head always tsks at her foolishness and reminds her of what she’s known all along. That fairytales and happy endings only occur in books - life is nothing but a morbid game with the ending written, not in stone, but in the dust of time.
An unexpected sensation of pure calm washes over her and seeps deep into her tattered soul. And, not for the first time, she’s glad that it’s always Jasper who finds her in these moments.
His butterscotch gaze holds no accusations or conclusions, only the keen understanding and deplorable sorrow of someone who’s been right where she is now.
She heaves a heavy sigh.
This is the life she wanted - the life she begged for - and there’s no use crying over spilt milk.
Her gaze falters and she slides her arms around her waist in a well-known gesture. He knows she’s tried to keep from falling apart. She knows he wants nothing more than to hold her together. But he’s not Romeo - Romeo is waiting at home for his Juliet to come back undamaged - so they sit in silence, each contemplating the other, and the way things used to be. When her heart still made him shudder with unbridled want, and his accent made her melt with each mellifluous utterance.
Something passes between them, something that causes him to reach out and brush as stray lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes snap up to meet his - warm gold clashing wildly with cold crimson - and the torment that canvases through them causes him to drop his arm around her shoulders and scoot closer to her side - the space between them infinitesimally small.
He’s not Romeo, but Romeo is not here.
Author: Mariusgirl
Fandom: Twilight
Character: Bella (Bella/Edward, Bella/Jasper)
Prompt: #29 - Breakdown (fanfic50), Spilled Milk (t_w_c)
Word Count: 1,067
Rating: PG
Summary: Every time she closes her eyes she sees her future spread out before her like a roadmap leading to nowhere. Her pages are turning, unfinished and fading without him. Each heartbeat bringing her closer to the breaking point as she teeters precariously on the edge of reality, playing chicken with the reaper in the shadows.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
An innocent rush of blood from a small inconsequential wound. A terrifying snarl ripped from a predator’s throat.
Every time she closes her eyes she sees her future spread out before her like a roadmap leading to nowhere. Her pages are turning, unfinished and fading without him. Each heartbeat bringing her closer to the breaking point as she teeters precariously on the edge of reality, playing chicken with the reaper in the shadows.
This is her life and it’s ending. One heartbeat at a time.
-----
He’s sprawled across the couch pretending to watch TV when she enters the room. A quick glance in her direction and she feels the heat rush to her face as memories of her last birthday flash unbidden through her mind.
A haunting sneer explodes across his handsome features and she can swear she sees his butterscotch eyes sweep admiringly across her small frame. But the moment passes and he’s looking her in the eye, horrorstruck at his momentary lapse.
A flutter of her heart and another rush of heat and he’s gone in a blur, leaving her staring into cold empty space.
----
I love you slides naturally from Edward’s smooth lips and she finds herself waiting for more.
His perfect diction feels deficient for reasons that she can’t quite fathom.
Something is missing because something has changed.
She’s waiting for a drawl that he does not posses to warm the words and make them feel right.
But the slow intonation she’s come to love does not tumble from his perfect lips. Only from the forbidden lips of another.
-----
Her body burns and she’s choking on the screams in her blistered throat. Air rushes out but it’s hard to force back in. Fire that cannot be doused - even by love - spreads the poison through her body as she writhers and thrashes beneath the stone grip of her husband. Pained eyes stared down at her and she wants to scream for him to stop the fire, but it’s too late.
Tears that she can no longer cry stain her perfect face, and cold, blood red eyes stare back at her from the frozen reflection in the mirror.
A moment of elation melts into a moment of sheer terror as she realizes that she’s gotten exactly what she’s asked for. And so much more.
But there’s no going back now, the damage is done, and this is one wrong that cannot be righted.
Second chances are mere ashes in the wind.
-----
He shakes his head in mute disappointment when he thinks she’s not looking, and she knows he’s mourning more than her loss of innocence. Even as he embraces her as his new sister, she knows that her transformation troubles him more than any of the others - something that has lain long dormant inside of his scarred soul resurfaces and she knows she is to blame for Jasper’s sudden departure from their family.
-----
It’s hard to meet her new sister’s eye. The words that do not pass between them hang like toxic ash in the air.
The biting implication in her golden gaze tears virulently at her now stilled heart and makes her long for the tears that she left behind with the last strands of her mortal life.
Every movement and every casual smile belies the truth that lays locked beneath the flawless façade of benign sisterly affection.
She feels the unspoken words as they flood like wildfire through every useless pore in her body.
I told you so.
-----
Blood splatters across her white t-shirt and her eyes darken to red, the frozen topaz melting away, the crimson sores matching the stains on her still shaking hands.
Revulsion and self loathing languish as she steadily avoids home.
It doesn’t matter that she’s getting soaked in the tempest as it blows through unexpectedly. The water falling in a steadily increasing rhythm around her - the crescendo jarringly like that of a heartbeat moments after she’s moved in for the kill - but unlike her unsuspecting victim the rain does not fade away.
He finds her huddled beneath the dripping limbs of an ancient tree and she refuses to meet his gaze because she knows that the silent understanding that his golden eyes hold for her will make her feel even worse. Like something has died within her - the last of her humanity? And she feels the urge to scream. But she doesn’t. It wouldn’t do her any good in the end.
This is not the life she wanted. This is not the life she envisioned before the venom ate away her heart.
In her moments of self denial and abhorrence, an angry little voice in her head always tsks at her foolishness and reminds her of what she’s known all along. That fairytales and happy endings only occur in books - life is nothing but a morbid game with the ending written, not in stone, but in the dust of time.
An unexpected sensation of pure calm washes over her and seeps deep into her tattered soul. And, not for the first time, she’s glad that it’s always Jasper who finds her in these moments.
His butterscotch gaze holds no accusations or conclusions, only the keen understanding and deplorable sorrow of someone who’s been right where she is now.
She heaves a heavy sigh.
This is the life she wanted - the life she begged for - and there’s no use crying over spilt milk.
Her gaze falters and she slides her arms around her waist in a well-known gesture. He knows she’s tried to keep from falling apart. She knows he wants nothing more than to hold her together. But he’s not Romeo - Romeo is waiting at home for his Juliet to come back undamaged - so they sit in silence, each contemplating the other, and the way things used to be. When her heart still made him shudder with unbridled want, and his accent made her melt with each mellifluous utterance.
Something passes between them, something that causes him to reach out and brush as stray lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes snap up to meet his - warm gold clashing wildly with cold crimson - and the torment that canvases through them causes him to drop his arm around her shoulders and scoot closer to her side - the space between them infinitesimally small.
He’s not Romeo, but Romeo is not here.