Twilight: What She Doesn't See...

Lust of the Human Flesh

February 1st,  2005

         The blue veins pulsating underneath her supple flesh was inviting to Edward. It called to him, sang sweetly to the venom coursing his own veins. 

He wanted. 

The pattern of Bella's heartbeat gradually spiked. Shifty, brown eyes told him that Bella knew she was being watched. If he just took one bite from her fingertip, no one would be aware; He'd be out the library and inside his Volvo before Bella Swan's nerves could register the searing sensation the bite would linger in its wake. 

A certain look flitted across her pale, illuminated face, she seemed to be pondering deeply as her forehead wrinkled decisively.  Slowly, the tension released. Edward examined the title of her book, The Gifted Ones. 

So she was curious about him.

 A meager threat would fix that.  

The folds under her eyes increased in intensity as she squinted in his general direction. But he had made sure to camouflage in the low light of the study and resided in the back of the library. A dark, grey hoodie covered his head, the shadow of the dark lit room obscuring his features. Only his eyes, which were black, could be seen. However, not by mere human eyes.  

Flames licked up his throat, he couldn't endure it. Blood...

If he didn't move now, he'd kill her-

Edward glanced diagonally left of him. Blood. He detected old blood clots. Lots of them. The light-skinned man wore a dark, blue business suit. It smelt as if it hadn't been washed in seventeen days. There was a sense of troubled anxiety pouring from him; the blood in his veins drowned out the cells in Bella's fingers grating against the fine-edged paper each time she flicked through the pages of her book. 

Tears poured from the man's eyes. Pen suddenly met paper in a furious scrawl. The marred hand controlling it was tense;  veins bulged from underneath this skin; he could hear the broken knuckles crepitate under bruised, cracked skin. Particles of white drywall dusted over the sore wounds. 

 Near the area just above the sleeve, he smelt the sweet, coppered stench. 

I'm sorry, Brady, I can't do this anymore.

 I've loved you so much in the years we've spent together.

There's nothing anyone could've done to change my mind about this. I just feel this life isn't for me. 

Remember me...

your big brother, Ollie.

The pen halted. A single tear hit the paper. It had the same sound effect as one would hear a gallon of water strike concrete. Edward continued to pick up on his depressing thoughts about his twin brother named Bradley, and his desire to commit suicide in the woods of Forks. 

Delving more into the stranger's thoughts brought confusion. Apparently, his mind wasn't fully there. He reminisced about his twin brother as if he were still alive, hoping that he would come to stop him from committing the act he planned within the next three hours. But he had heard the series of thoughts the stranger had wished to suppress for many years. 

Bradley, I needed you! Why'd you leave me with that damn woman? Why'd you trust her?! I told you she was poisoning you. You wouldn't listen to me! 

And now..now you're dead.

How tragic, Edward mused to himself. The man's shoulders tensed, looking up at him with glossy, red eyes.