1,738Hello, dear readers, and welcome to this new journey! This is going to be a dark and sexy ride, so buckle up! :)
The events of "Stuck in Limbo" are told from Edward's point of view, so I hope you're ready for a deep dive into his profoundly troubled mind. Apart from the fact that he never returned to Esme and Carlisle after leaving them behind in 1927, the lore and the personalities of the characters remain canon-compliant.
This story is going to deal with several mature themes - Edward is, after all, a vigilante vampire who gets rid of the worst predators in the world, so he has seen it all. But don't worry, if a certain chapter deals with a sensitive topic, there will be proper trigger warnings placed at the very end, for anyone who might need them.
Also, a fair warning: there will be lemons (unashamedly explicit lemons), so proceed with care, if you are not a fan of those.
I am forever grateful to CoppertopJ, for being the most amazing beta in the world, and to DaniDarlingxx, for being the most encouraging pre-reader on this planet!
As you well know, all characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am only a hopeless fan who can't get enough of playing with them.
Enjoy!
"In Limbo Land you don't unpack
You can't move on, you can't go back
You don't make plans, you dare not hope
For fear of broken dreams.
In Limbo Land there is no peace
There's no escape and no release
Just constant staring at the sky
And tears in tortured streams."
Dan Foster
2005
It had been too long. Did they even remember me?
They did. Of course they did. This was the blessing and the curse of our species: never forget. I could not understand why the strings that tied me to them still existed, even after all these years. It wasn't like I cared anymore. For all I knew, they could be dead. Still, it would have been nice to at least know. At least the uncertainty wouldn't burn me anymore.
I wondered if they ever thought about me — if, just like me, they looked down upon this particular day in July and thought: 'This is the day he left us'. I admonished myself for being self-centered enough to believe that maybe they hadn't stopped caring. Forgetting, sometimes, could be a cathartic act. And while forgetting was, for all intents and purposes, impossible for our kind, coming to peace with things wasn't — if only peace liked my company.
The streets of Port Angeles were mostly empty at this late hour, the life of the city being crammed into the countless bars and restaurants near the city's old pier. Thousands of heartbeats, pulsing together, one of them unaware of the fact that this would be the last night it would beat. They all made for a delicious feast and I was craving to taste them all, but I had to be careful.
I didn't have to wear contacts tonight. My eyes were dark enough on their own, thanks to the past two weeks going by without me feeding at all. The fire in my throat was blazing as I made my way down the street, past the coffee shops that were now closed and past the nightclubs that bore the unmistakable scent of desire. It was in these nightclubs that I needed to be.
At this point, it didn't matter which one I chose. They were all nameless to me, serving one purpose only: being my own buffets. The one I had just entered had no bodyguard at the entrance — a recipe for disaster. Inside, the light was so low I was wondering if the humans could even see what was in front of them. The cigarette smoke surely did not help in that regard. It was thick and it permeated every possible surface.
Every muscle in my body began to tense up once I entered the crowd of dancing people. They were too close, too warm, too delicious, while my thirst was too strong. I could hear a Placebo song blaring from the speakers and I couldn't help but notice the lack of synchrony of the dancers, most of them too drunk to keep a steady rhythm. Their thoughts, almost as loud as the song, made their way into my head: mindless distractions and money and sex, all of them jumbled together in a tiring mess.
I made my way to the bar — my usual spot whenever I entered places like this. There, a petite brunette was having a heated conversation with the barman. She wore a dress that seemed too tight for comfort and her curly hair was all bundled up in a messy bun, revealing a neck full of pulsing blood. I had to swallow the venom in my mouth when I sat down on the tall chair next to her, ignoring the sight of her neck, trying to scan the minds of those around me.
"Dude, it's just a little vodka, not the end of the world," she uttered, accentuating every word with an accent I could not pinpoint.
"And you've been staring at my boobs for so long it would be nice to at least pay for the free show."
"You're lucky you're still inside, kid," the barman said.
"Damn, what do they put in food these days that makes them look like that?"
"You know this would be legal in Europe, right?" the girl persisted.
"Then move to Europe, for all I care."
The curly girl tried to say something, but the barman ignored her, turning his back on her to reach for some bottles on the top shelf. He felt good about refusing her order, but still strangely attracted to this girl who was at least half his age. However, thoughts about his wife waiting at home kept him from fantasizing further. I decided he was not a threat.
In the end, the girl caved and retreated. I could pick out from her thoughts that this was her eighteenth birthday and she was hoping she could get her friends a few sneaky drinks.
"No luck, girls," I heard her say, somewhere in the back.
"We told you you don't have to do this," another voice called.
I could see now in the mind of the curly girl the two faces of her companions: a blonde and another brunette. The blonde was wearing a top full of sequins, while the chestnut-haired girl wore something more subdued: just a thin blue blouse, made of delicate silk, that made for an odd contrast with her pale skin. Somehow, they both looked out of place, given their ages — the brunette even more so, as she looked around with a deep frown between her eyebrows.
"Live a little, Angela! When was the last time your folks let you out of town for a whole night?"
"Ummm, never until now?"
"That's exactly my point."
I lost track of their conversation when the barman asked me what I wanted. I told him to surprise me — I always told them that, since I couldn't care less what they put in my glass. I never drank it anyway, it was merely an excuse to not be bothered while I hunted.
Things seemed all right for the moment. Usually, I had to wait a little before finding my prey. But they never failed to come, sooner or later. Most of the time, they were men. A few times women. I never made a distinction between the two anyway — if their intentions involved taking advantage of and harming a person, they were as good as dead to me.
That first hour in the club went by slowly. The passing of time got even slower when a woman came to sit next to me — a bold gesture, considering the way most humans had an instinctive impulse to avoid my kind, but not as bold as the first words she uttered to me:
"What would you say if I told you we should get out of here right now?"
I didn't look at her. Her thoughts were too disorganized for my taste. She had come here tonight to get over an ex-boyfriend, no matter the stakes. Between those thoughts and the scent of blood mixed with gin, it wasn't hard to guess that she was not thinking too clearly.
"I would rent you a cab to help you get home in one piece," I answered.
"And you would come with me, I presume."
"That would be a false presumption, I'm afraid."
"And why is that?"
I sighed, turning away to look at her, knowing that this was the polite thing to do. Her blonde hair was pulled in a ponytail and her red lips upturned at the edges, in a weak attempt to keep her smile on.
"Damn, sexy eyes!"
"I am a little busy tonight," I answered.
"You've got a girlfriend?"
"No."
"Boyfriend?"
"No."
"What a douchebag. If he thinks I'm going to beg for his dick, he's wrong."
"Have a good night, ma'am," I said, standing up from my chair and trying to get lost in the crowd of people.
I followed the trails of thoughts without much success, trying to find something of interest.
"Wonder if I locked the door at home."
"That's it, tonight I'm going to tell him. We can't go on like this."
"I hate this, it's too fucking hot in here"
"Another glass can't hurt."
"Maybe I can feed her formula and everyone will be happy."
"She seems scared. Sweet Jesus, she'll be begging me for it."
The last mental voice alerted me in an instant. I clung to it, trying to not lose track of the man whose thoughts I had just heard. The sound came from the bathroom hallway, where he was cornering a young woman. His vision was blurry enough from the alcohol to make her features indistinct.
I moved through the dancers, this time rushing — it was tough to keep a human rhythm, but it had to be done. Once I got past the dance floor, I made my way to the common bathrooms, where the sleazy thoughts kept on pouring.
"Bet she's out fucking every night, with that face."
"Please, get off me," a calm voice called — the girl — and I heard him chuckling.
The hallway that led to the bathroom was plastered with kissing couples on either side. The monster cornering the young woman almost looked normal, as he was pressing her body tightly against the wall.
"Watched you all night, pretty face, standing there, being all sexy with your girls. You want it, baby girl, just let it be."
As I came closer, I realized I had seen his victim before: it was the oddly-pale girl dressed in blue from earlier, the one who seemed so out of place. She had an abnormally calm demeanor as she was getting cornered — certainly not what I was used to in situations like the one at hand. I couldn't distinguish her thoughts from the clamour of voices I could hear, but this was not my priority: the monster was.
I was three feet away from them when it happened. A couple of girls exited the bathroom, the door moving swiftly behind them as it closed, sending a gush of air right in my direction: sweat, perfume, wine and then, all too suddenly and all too powerful, her. The girl with the blue blouse.
All Hell broke loose in a second.
This was a scent I had never, not even once, encountered in my century-long existence. It was pure and cursed in ways that could not be explained by words. She smelled sweet and luscious and inviting and the sound of her heartbeat made my consciousness burst into flames, begging me to do what needed to be done and savour the rapturous blood that was calling to me. The powerful fragrance rolled right down my tongue, allowing me to almost taste it, but not quite.
She smelled like flowers from another planet, dipped in a syrup that was denser than honey itself. A hint of lavender was hidden underneath all the layers, making the fragrance all the more alluring. If there was a God out there, he most certainly had given his best to make this girl smell like the best thing in the universe. Maybe he had given her other gifts as well, but that held no interest to me. I couldn't care who she was or what she liked, for her scent was the only thing that would ever make her worthy of walking this Earth. She had been born solely for this moment in time to happen: me, her, her number getting closer and closer to being up.
The thirst I was feeling was abnormal. It was too intense, blazing without mercy, making me feel as if I had never, not even once, fed. The excess venom in my mouth left me longing for more. It made my entire body ache, not only my throat, making me all too aware of my own nature, of my own needs. All other sounds had disappeared, to make room in my mind for the only sound that could matter: the abundant, wet, delicious, hot pulsing of blood beneath the thin layer of her pale skin.
There was no point in denying the obvious: I had to have her.
I could get so easily to that blood. All I had to do was kill everyone and get to her. How many people could there be in that hallway? Not more than twenty, certainly. It would take me less than five seconds to end their lives, just by breaking their necks, before getting to her. She would barely have time to process my actions before I could sink my teeth into her. But the bodies would still remain in the hallway, as a testament of my desire for the girl. It wouldn't be easy to get rid of them, seeing that I would have to drag them through the club to get them out.
But maybe the bathrooms had large enough windows. Yes, that could be it. I could make an exit through those windows, if they existed. It would take me less than a minute to have my way with this girl's blood. Any other additional witnesses that would happen to pass through the hallway during that minute could be taken care of easily.
Or maybe there was an easier option, one I had not considered. I could get the man off of her, grab her and drag her to the bathroom, forcing her into a stall where I could drain her freely. She would scream of course, but not for long, for she would pass out soon after my sharp teeth would penetrate that ivory skin of hers. God, what hid beneath that skin…
Barely a second had passed since her scent hit me.
She had not noticed me — but I most certainly noticed her. She was still pushing the man away from her body, too calm for her own good. I didn't have time for this. She needed to be mine.
"Dude, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
The voice snapped me to my senses. It was high and alert and I had not realized it was so close to me. The girl with the curly bun from earlier was now here, pushing the man off of my meal.
"Who the fuck is this hot piece of ass?"
I realized that her force was most definitely not enough for what she was trying to do, so I reached out to help her mechanically. It had taken me no effort to push the guy away — the only problem was that now I could see perfectly the network of veins that painted the delicate canvas of my girl's cleavage. The blood pulsed shamelessly behind the soft contour of her breasts, teasing me, torturing me.
In the back of my mind, I could hear the man's mind making a sleazy plan of pushing the new girl to the wall as well. Holding my breath to get the tiniest bit of reason, I grabbed his shirt and pushed him away with force. He fell on the floor with a loud thud, passing out from his own state of drunkenness. Nobody seemed to care enough to ask what had just happened.
"Thanks, stranger," the curly girl offered.
"Prince Charming to the rescue. Although I was the bigger rescuer here."
"Not a problem," I said, letting out a fraction of the air in my lungs. I still had enough to keep talking a little more, if needed.
"Jess, thank you," the girl with the blue blouse managed, before turning her eyes to me. "And thank you…?"
She looked at me, all too confused. This was the first time I truly noticed her eyes: two drops of melted chocolate, set on the white canvas of her sclerae. Beautiful eyes, of course, but that didn't solve the mystery of why she had made the words into a question. What was she expecting me to say? My name?
It was then that I realized a reality that hit me almost as powerfully as the scent of her blood did: seconds ago, when I was approaching her in the hallway, it wasn't the clamour of voices that made it hard for me to distinguish her own mental voice. It was the fact that there was complete radio silence from her mind. Not a shadow of a thought, just endless silence.
Her eyes were confused, still waiting for an answer to a question I didn't fully understand.
"Edward," I let out rapidly, perplexed when my answer sent a shot of blood to her cheeks.
"A little too sexy to be named like my grandpa, but it works," the girl named Jess thought.
"Well, thank you too, Edward. I'll owe you one."
She owed me more than one; she owed me her blood and there was no polite way to ask her this, especially not with her friend sitting right next to us. But I would find a way.
"Do you want to join us at our table?" her friend said. "We've one free seat."
"We've no seats, but I'm happy to let him squeeze against me."
I shook my head. A few more words and I would have to breathe in once again.
"Come find us in case you change your mind."
The chocolate eyed girl frowned at her friend and I wondered what exactly had offended her. Not that I really cared, for soon she would have no more reasons to be offended ever again. I watched them step away, back to the smoke-filled club.
I didn't return immediately. Instead, I allowed myself to rest against the wall, processing everything that had happened. One thing was clear to me: this could not be the last time I savoured the scent of that girl, whatever her name was. This was a once in a lifetime chance — it was only reasonable to be a singular event, since no one had ever smelled as good as she did. It would be so foolish of me to pass it up.
All these years, I had done the right thing. Again and again and again. Time after agonizing time. Not once did I kill an innocent human. There had been a few instances when I had felt inclined to do so, whenever my own thirst got to be a little too much for me to handle. But never, not even once, had I been as close to caving as I had been seconds ago. What would one wrong deed mean for me, after all? Just one really bad and delicious mistake per existence. It felt like a rightful bargain, if there was a God out there keeping score. If there had ever been hope for what I was, it was long gone anyway — it wasn't like I could do anything about it. I might as well enjoy my stay in Purgatory.
It didn't matter what day it was today, I was what I was. I didn't owe explanations to anyone. If they had ever missed me, they only did so because they had no idea how far gone I truly was. But there would be no way for them to find out just how far I was willing to go to satisfy my nature. And furthermore, they would not even care at this point.
The only thing binding me to them was my own memory. Unlike humans, I didn't have the luxury to forget such things once I passed a certain age. I was doomed to remember them for the rest of eternity, but that didn't have to stop me from living my own truth. And my truth was out there, in the club, on a small sofa, pulsing and brimming warm with life.
As I made my way back slowly, I started analyzing my possibilities. I could go out there and ask her to dance with me. She would press her small body on mine, allowing me to feel the wonders of her circulatory system first-hand. I might lean in and fake a kiss on her blushed cheeks, only to get closer to her neck. No one would hear her scream once I would get a bite of that neck, thanks to the blaring music. Only she and I would know those screams.
Still, that could be a little too obvious once she was dead in my arms. There had to be a better way. Could I suggest going outside for a bit, to get a breath of fresh air? There was a nearby alleyway where I could take her to. The screaming part would be a little tougher to manage there, but the night held all sorts of bizarre sounds within it — her screams would only add to that.
I had to hit 'pause' on my own plans once I was back to where the dance floor was and I heard the girl's voice:
"The last train should leave in ten minutes and I am sure I can catch it."
"Okay, at least let me walk you to the train station!"
This had to be the blonde girl's voice — Angela, I remembered.
"It's fine, it's five minutes from here anyway."
"Then text me when you get back home, okay?"
"Of course, Angie. Have fun!"
Train station.
So that's where she was going. This shattered my previous plans, of course, but I could adapt. I was nothing if not flexible, if that was what it took to get to that perfect blood. I didn't have a clear outline of what I was going to do when I rushed to the door. I just knew I had to get there before she did. I almost made no effort to move at a human speed, the only thing keeping me from running being my own ingrained habits.
The streets were quiet when I got out of the club. A couple was walking on the other side of the street, so I kept my pace steady. Once I passed them, I scanned the air for other noises — steps, breaths, voices, thoughts, cars, anything. I thanked God for the silence and started running. I only stopped when I heard the low hum of an approaching vehicle. Luckily, the train station was right there, just a crossroad away from me. It had taken me two minutes to get there, now all I had to do was wait for her as well.
The Port Angeles train station was ridiculously small. It only had two major train lines and one large platform that separated them. This was the epitome of convenience and all my hungers surged at once. I sat down on one of the benches. A few feet away from me, a homeless man was resting on another bench, snoring.
Earlier, the girl had said that the last train would leave in ten minutes. The last train to where? Where was she heading? I searched the surroundings with my gaze until I found what I wanted: a chart. The only train whose timing fit with the one suggested by her would be the one to Forks.
Of course she lived there. That explained her strange pallor. Or maybe she had some iron deficiency. But then again, her blood had smelled so ridiculously appealing, so wholesome, that I could not imagine it having deficiencies of any kind.
Minutes passed by, but she didn't show up. In four minutes, her train would arrive.
I wondered if anyone was waiting for her at home. There had to be someone — maybe her parents, judging by the fact that she and her friends were still in highschool. Maybe her boyfriend, if she was that type of girl. Somehow, I doubted she was; the way she had been so full of reservations and always with a frown on her face in the nightclub gave her away: she was a good girl.
It was a pity that she had to smell so good. I really didn't want to take her life, but there was no other choice. There was no doubt that this would be the first and last time I would ever encounter such an empowering scent. The least I could do was make it quick for her — there was absolutely no reason to make her suffer, as I had done with the monsters that had come before her. It would still hurt, of course, but I would not torture her.
When the train stopped in front of the platform, I began to wonder if she had even made it out of the nightclub. But all of my senses came to life when I heard hurried footsteps somewhere inside the train station building. Stuttering footsteps, but still. I stood up, right as the train was leaving.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
The girl's voice sounded positively furious. Now that her rage was making her heart beat faster, the rush of her fragrance hit me even worse than the first time. It took everything in me not to launch over her then and there. I realized I had to put on some act for her sake once she got on the platform.
"Damned train, it left before it even arrived," I complained, turning around to face her.
She had every reason to gasp as she did — it was way past midnight, she had just been assaulted in a nightclub and I was probably the last person she expected to see right now. But I, on the other hand, had no excuse for gasping as loud as I did. I was expecting her, after all. What I was most certainly not expecting was to see her properly. She looked different now, in the soft light of the lanterns, than she did in the poorly-lit club.
Her skin was pale, yes, but it also looked unreasonably creamy. Those wide chocolate eyes glistened intently as they stared into mine, almost making me overlook all the other parts of her I had just observed in passing: the plump, uneven lips, the chestnut waves falling over her chest, the rim of a black bra peeking through her blouse.
This girl didn't only smell like the most delicious thing on Earth. She was beautiful, in a way that had escaped me before. A subdued type of beautiful — the kind that you only observed at a second glance, but a thousand times more commanding than all the other pretty faces in the crowd. It awakened an unknown longing deep in my stomach, one I had never felt.
I had to step back, taken aback.
"We met earlier, in the club, right? Edward?"
I nodded, aware that I had to say something in return.
"Yes, Edward Masen, and you are?"
"Bella Swan," she answered immediately. "I mean Isabella, but it's not my preference."
Bella. Isabella. I liked both. They suited her.
But I was not here to exchange pleasantries. I had to get this over with — to end Isabella's life as painlessly as possible, even if she had barely got to live it, and drink her glorious blood.
"You were heading to Forks too, I see," she noticed — of course, the only logical explanation for both of us being on that platform at the same hour. Her mind couldn't possibly guess the reason behind my presence. Not that I knew anything about that mind, since none of her thoughts escaped her privacy. What was her secret?
"I was," I lied. "To visit a friend. I guess that has to wait."
All these words forced out all the air in my lungs and I had to breathe in once again. Fire. Unadulterated, smouldering fire. Soon there would be no more flames, only delight.
"That's a shame," she murmured, suddenly looking down at her hands.
I followed her gaze, finding her fingers fiddling with the bracelet she wore. It was a small silver one, adorning her wrist in a way that fitted her. My eyes flew once again at her blouse: the material looked almost as soft as her skin and she was lucky it was a warm summer night, otherwise she would have frozen dressed like that. The slight contour of the bra underneath caught my attention once again and I had to close my eyes, to get the image off my mind.
For God's sake, it was just a bra. And she was just a girl. I had seen both in my long string of existing on this Earth, even if not in an intimate context, without once being interested. This Bella was nothing special — only her blood was. This was the only reason I was here. But that didn't prevent my imagination from running free with thoughts of her only in that bra. I opened back my eyes, seeing that this was not working the way I had expected.
"I guess I'll have to find a motel or something," she said half-heartedly, once again breaking my concentration. "Oh, and thank you once again for helping me and my friend back there."
"No problem."
Her eyes studied my face for a few more seconds and I followed suit. It felt easy to drown in her eyes and not come back. Their unnatural depths were alluring, making me wonder if there was a way I could find an answer to the curiosity regarding her mental silence in there. There had to be something I was missing. But those depths remained quiet as I observed them.
After a little while, she looked away. She was blushing again. This blushing thing she was doing… it made me feel a certain way. It made the longing in my stomach coil, waiting to be sprung open, then slowly dissipating to my limbs, where it turned into liquid electricity.
Goddamn, why weren't my teeth glued to her veins already? Why was I losing precious time?
Maybe it was for the better. Maybe if I could lose a little more time and get her to a place secluded enough, I could enjoy her properly, without rushing to get as much of her blood out as possible in the span of one minute. This way, the worry of having to muffle her screams would no longer exist, for we would be alone.
But this was all up to how much she was willing to risk for a stranger.
"I'm in no rush," I said, giving her my friendliest smile. "If you would like, we could take a walk around the city."
It sounded like an invitation, but it really wasn't — if she refused, I would simply go back to my less exciting, more rushed plan of drinking from her right there, on the platform.
"Right now?" she asked.
Not the response I had expected. Taken by surprise, I found myself speechless for a longer moment than intended. I took advantage of this pause, knowing that next time I would open my mouth the fire would return.
"Port Angeles can be beautiful at night," I managed in the end, swallowing the abundance of venom that inhaling her scent had brought in my mouth and ignoring the current in my limbs. "Well, at least when you're not in places like the one we've been in tonight."
She grimaced.
"Those are not my type of places, to be truthful. I was only there for my friend's birthday, the one in the hallway."
As expected — good girl through and through.
"Not my type either."
"Then why were you there?"
"Same as you, more or less," I lied without a care in the world — surely, she didn't have to know that the only reason I had chosen to be there was to hunt.
Come on now, stop wasting time.
"So, any thoughts on my offer?"
"Hmmm, I don't know, I've never done this. You could be a serial killer, for all I know."
I could not afford to appear shocked at her correct assumption. Instead, I laughed, unsure whether this was better or worse. None of this would have been a problem if I could hear what went behind what she let out.
"Maybe I am," I teased her, hoping she would take my lame bait.
"Though you don't look the part."
"Is there a specific look for serial killers?"
"I don't know… I imagine them having beards and a pot belly, and you have neither."
Oh, sweet, innocent Isabella.
The fact that she could let herself be guided solely by these criteria both amused and saddened me. But it was no cause for complaint in the end — I was thankful for whatever beliefs worked to lure her in quicker.
"Ever heard of Ted Bundy?" I asked.
"Yes, but he's not… that good-looking. At least not to me."
What a strange creature. I pondered over what exactly she considered attractive in terms of physicality — not that I cared.
"Okay," she added, losing me once again.
"'Okay' what?"
"Let's go for a walk."
"So I take it I've passed the serial killer test? That easily?"
She nodded and smiled. Those plump lips of hers seemed to even out a bit when she smiled. I didn't know why I found that aspect particularly sensual. I also didn't know why my mind was wondering if her lips would taste as good as her blood smelled.
"I mean… I did say I owe you one earlier."
God bless her memory.
"There is a park not far away from here," I told her.
Where no one will hear your screams.
"It's rather beautiful," I added.
Because I will get to enjoy your perfect blood without having to hurry.
"Do you want to go there?"
As if you really have a choice.
Bella accepted the invitation, smiling once again as she arranged the strap of her purse back in place when it slid from her shoulder, dragging down a bit of her top and revealing a thin black strap in the process, before fixing that as well.
Her cheeks were once again brightly coloured after this little blunder, the sight too mouth-watering for comfort. I wondered what colour they would have if other little blunders were to happen. Blunders that involved me dragging that black strap down her shoulder and testing if her skin tasted as creamy as it looked.
I couldn't recognize this new hunger. Until now, I had never craved a woman in any capacity. It would have been terribly cruel, if not downright ironic, to start craving exactly the one from which I was going to feed. There was only so much I could focus on, after all. Furthermore, there was no place for thirst and lust to overlap: it had to be one or the other, and I knew what my body needed.
Although the sudden bulge in my pants seemed to contradict my simple resolve.
"Lead the way, Edward," the girl said, too trusting.
And just as she asked, I did lead the way — to the park, to her blood, to her death.
Here we are - the end of the first chapter!
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