Welcome to Bella and the Beastward.

I've never started something while I was writing something else but this idea wouldn't quit and I had to get it down. I'd like to post every week but life being what it is, I hope you'll forgive me if it doesn't turn out that way.

A very special thanks to Zeewriter for encouraging me and being as excited about this idea as I am.

A big round of hugs to TheOtherBella who is my coma wrangler (aka beta) for this little romp.

I don't own, I just play.


May 20th, 2001

I didn't want to get up. If I thought I were brave enough, I would have stepped outside my bedroom and jumped off the balcony. The sun wasn't even up yet. I felt… numb. It was two months ago that I went from "this is not my life, this is not my life, this is not my life," to "shut the fuck up, yes it is."

I threw off the covers. The sun would rise soon. One of the advantages of a penthouse was watching it rise and fall over this city. Another advantage was privacy. I rolled out of bed naked, opened the balcony doors off my bedroom, and stepped out into cool morning air. The stones were probably freezing beneath my feet, but I was too numb to give a shit.

The light changed from early morning gray to amber and pink in a matter of minutes. The city woke up beneath me in a chorus of planes overhead and traffic below. I wasn't sure how long I actually stayed there staring and listen at nothing in particular, but nature called and I walked back into the bedroom, past the walk-in closets, to the bathroom. Business done, I washed my hands. That's when I heard a voice I hadn't heard for months.

"Dude! You are so fucking wasted man!"

"Shut it asshole like you're any better. Fuck, look at Cullen – he's gonzo man. Totally Looney Tunes."

I heard the explosion in my mind, looked at myself in the mirror and seethed at what I saw. It wasn't fucking me, just like this wasn't my fucking life. Shut up, I said out loud. Yes, it is your life; yes, that is you. So much for being numb. Next thing I knew there was glass flying everywhere and my fist was wet and red. Fuck, it felt amazing too. I ran to the other two bathrooms and did some more demo. Every mirror I smashed was like sweet relief. It was the best fucking high I'd ever had.

The gilt mirror in the dining room was the last one - it was a big fucker too. I stood up on a chair to get onto the sideboard. I pulled both my arms back, balled my fists and jammed my hands forward until I heard the crash of glass, felt the burn on my knuckles, and felt the last piece of mirror on my bare feet.

I stepped down to the chair, sat down, and started laughing. Nothing about this morning had been funny, but it was the only thing my body wanted to do. It was there, surrounded by shattered glass, naked, and dripping with blood that Lydia found me.

"Mr. Edward," she said calmly, "We get cleaned up, yes?"

Her heavy Polish accent and simple words woke me up out of whatever hysteria I was experiencing. It wasn't until then that I realized how much pain I was in. There were shards of glass coming out of my knuckles and they were raw and bloody. I had glass in my feet, definitely in my hair, and I could feel how swollen my eyes were. When the fuck did I start crying?

"Mr. Edward, up now. Slow."

I did as I was told and screamed in agony.

Somehow we made it to the bathroom around the corner. Lydia set me on toilet seat and quickly left. When she came back she had tweezers, the first aid kit, and a bottle of vodka. She handed me the vodka.

"Drink, take deep breath, and no faint. I not want call ambulance, yes?"

I did as I was told. The tweezing was the worst part. Once the glass was out of my hands and feet, she did things with cotton balls, something that smelled like floor cleaner, needle, thread, and then wrapped everything up in gauze and tape. She gave me a towel to wrap around my waist, two pills, which I assumed were pain killers, and helped me back to the bedroom.

"You rest, I clean."

I couldn't argue with her. Before I knew it I had fallen asleep again.

I woke up to the sounds of a news anchor yakking away. The TV in my room wasn't on and Lydia only watched soaps and game shows. It could only be one other person and I groaned in frustration.

"Well, today is the first anniversary of the Cullen Family tragedy. The story took the nation by storm last year when Edward Cullen, a handsome, wealthy, soon to be Harvard grad and two of his friends were…"

"Alice, shut that shit off. I know what fucking day it is."

"Thank you Patrick. It was exactly one year ago today that Edward Cullen and two of his fellow classmates..."

"I know you know what fucking day it is. And if I didn't, the thousands shards of broken mirror that Lydia was cleaning up this morning would have tipped me off."

"Edward Cullen, only son to prominent Boston doctor Carlisle Cullen and his wife Esme Cullen, former model and daughter to the Oscar winning actor Charles Masen…"

"Not the day to push me, Alice."

"The trio boarded the Cullen family yacht in the middle of the night, without a crew, cruised around Massachusetts Bay and at approximately 3:30am there was…"

"Shit, Alice! Turn the fucking thing off!"

"Although it is unclear to this day exactly what transpired to cause the fire…"

I sat up way too quickly and the world spun around me. I felt my stomach churn.

"I was able to speak with Mrs. Cullen earlier this morning."

Fuck, when would it end? Couldn't they just leave everyone alone already?

"Is there anything you'd like to say to him Mrs. Cullen?"

Once the nausea stopped I heard my mother's voice.

"Only that I miss him more than I can say. I wish you could just pick up the phone and call me."

"Call your mother, you dick."

"She doesn't want to hear from me."

"Get over it, Edward. She just told Donna Johnson that she wished her son would pick up the phone and call her. She's a model, not an actress. For Christ's sake, call the woman!"

"Did you send her the pink peonies?"

"Of course I did, and a bottle of aged scotch for your father; oh and the latest scholarship candidates are on your desk."

I looked at the bedside clock. It was six thirty in the evening; I had slept through the whole damn day.

"Time for you to leave, Alice."

"Right, of course it is." There was a moment of blessed silence, then: "You're going to die a lonely angry man you know that?"

"I'm planning on it."

"What was that?"

"Get out of here. That's what it was."

"Right. Fine. Why the hell do I put up with this…"

I couldn't hear the rest of her tirade as she stormed out the door and slammed it as hard as her little frame could manage. When I knew I was alone I slowly got out of bed. I walked back out onto the balcony to watch the city wind down and slowly turn off. I knew all too well what day it was. Exactly one year ago I killed my friends and, in the process, turned into the beast I am today.


I have the next two chapters done but before I post them, I would really love to know what you think...