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Mar. 15th, 2009 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themidnightsonThe afternoon was made of sitting in his car at the far outskirt of Port Angeles, not trying to tempt the sun and the madness.
It was also made of endless prattle. Who's skin looks better with which color, do we have matching shoes, do my breasts/hips/ankles/shoulders look right and how should I do my hair. It's like listening to his sisters, except for them he actually has marginal patience and the ability to ignore them. Here and now, trying to weed out the vipers nest of Jessica's thoughts for the gentle stream that Angela's resembled, was his only way.
Not that he enjoyed the necessity of using either of them.
But it was the only way he could see where Bella was.
It was hard enough just sit still and watch.
Five days away had been hellish.
Still he didn't stay with them always. He didn't like his focus being invaded by Jessica's self-absorption and both of them spent just as much time in dressing rooms at the same time as out of them, places he followed neither of them into.
Which was, of course, how he ended up driving down the west side of the street in Port Angeles, clinging to the shadows thrown by buildings, staring through dark tinted windows at the still too far away sunset clouds headed toward the bookstore Angela had thought of when he realized Bella had walked off from them. He cursed his luck and not having considered her leaving them when he was being respectful to their privacy.
He stood trying to pretend he didn't feel like a caged wild animal staring at the edge of awning shadows where sunlight kept him at bay. That Bella was missing. That she wasn't in the bookstore. That he could not follow her scent were it went, out there into the radiant light of late afternoon.
Two days it had kept him prisoner from her already--from any insistence of a life he might have outside sitting in shadows and waiting for it to go back behind the rain soaked clouds. This was almost more than he could bear. This was not sleepy little Forks with its timelessness or boredom. It was Port Angeles, and it the sunshine gloated at him.
So he got back in his car, back behind the protective barrier of the black convection glass, and the west ward wall shadows, cursing in low guttural snarls as he drove around the unhelpful Port streets watching for her in miles of eyes.
It had to have been hours.
Waiting and watching and fretting, helpless as the sunset lingered.
He drove between the dress shop, the restaurant and the bookstore frantic.
And then just as suddenly her face had filled his mind, bringing with it a sharp exquisite relief, only to be dashed by the thoughts (Here she comes! Ah!) of the monster who had Bella Swan in his sights. His steering wheel and the floor board under the gas pedal were nearly devastated by the sudden reaction accompanying the yell the bellowed out of him.
There was no way to tell where they were.
Bella was in the shadows, a look of quiet dread and fear on her face.
He enjoyed that. It reminded him of his other victims. All the others faces that flickered in with Bella's. She would fit in well with them he thought.
The sounds emanating from Edward shook the frame of the car, the metal beneath his fingers crying out from the pressure extricate on it. He needed a street sign, a store front, anything more than just the section of the city. The Volvo flew through alleys, narrowly dodging other drivers who didn't even exist in his mind anymore by the time they'd managed to honk and swerve.
There were others with him.
His called them to Edward's attention and he leapt for them, casting about for the direction and sights--and, yes, a cross street. The drunken boys in the cast about the ring leader, this Lonnie, had no true idea about his intentions toward Bella. He'd only promises them a little fun...
Edward would kill them all-- for considering it, for looking at her.
The red light flew over his car unheeded, like the honking to his right and left when he slid through a space just big enough to take the car without what should have been a devastating five car pileup. His pocket vibrated, but he ignored it. He couldn't answer, couldn't think straight, had to get to Bella.
Lonnie was advancing on her, pleading in his mind with her, that she might scream and beg. Edward wasn't going to kill Lonnie first. No, he would dispatch his little gang, necks snapped and limbs broken in seconds, and then he was going to rip every hair out of Lonnie's body one at a time in his time frame, not a human one, break each joint or bones that could be without tearing his skin and then pull his skin off in strips no bigger than half an inch, then the same with his muscles, tear out his tongue so he couldn't scream or beg for the mercy that wouldn't be afforded to him, leave his blood and body be wasted meat in the street.
He could hear the squealing tires of the Volvo in the minds of the men now. He pressed the gas pedal harder, listening to the gears in the floor grind with the unnatural pressure.
Lonnie was nearly at Bella now, one hand extended to her, his thoughts racing over her body and her face -- when suddenly the car spun around a corner and it was pristinely in front of. The man Lonnie, and Bella, all the lollygag hoodlums he'd collected drunkenly at the bar. There was no temptation to run him over.
It was far too merciful.
He needed to die in the kind of pain where he'd pray he'd never been given the right to breathe. Lonnie jumped out of the way of the Volvo as it spun out, sideways and around, so that he was facing the way he'd come, one hand deathly still on the wheel and the other throwing wide open the passenger door toward where Bella stood.
"Get in," he snarled, barely able to form words through violent rage.
She listened, for once. Ran for the door, hurtling herself into his passenger seat and slamming the door behind her, an explosion of sickening delicious glee burbling up at her scent, as his eyes snapped to the rear view mirror and Lonnie's face before it went to her.
Edward's violent plans for the perfect torture and murder cracked;
On the most trusting expression he'd ever seen in his century of life.
He couldn't leave her alone, take them somewhere else to do it.
Couldn't run him over without terrifying her.
He couldn't kill any of them in front of her.
He couldn't kill them right now.
Violent, scalding anger flared at her being in the way of him defending her life, of ripping five people who have no right to any semblance of life from it. He nearly growled at her in the utter frustration of the pure red he was seeing. The flavor of their deaths was in the tension the held the muscles in his back rigid, the venom in his mouth, the haze of his perfect vision. The savage need was so strong. Still she stared up at him, fragile as a soap bubble, unknowing of the danger she'd actually been in, brown eyes wide and trusting, full of relief and awe, and he had to look away.
Snapping at her to put on her seat belt as her maneuvered the car into reverse, the needle idling around sixty.
Vengeance had to wait. Vengeance had to wait. Vengeance had to wait.
He was good at patient now, right?
Their voices traded words his thoughts couldn't hold on to.
How could he leave her alone anywhere now?
If this was what happened?
He desperately needed to be able to think clearly.
"Distract me, please."
It was also made of endless prattle. Who's skin looks better with which color, do we have matching shoes, do my breasts/hips/ankles/shoulders look right and how should I do my hair. It's like listening to his sisters, except for them he actually has marginal patience and the ability to ignore them. Here and now, trying to weed out the vipers nest of Jessica's thoughts for the gentle stream that Angela's resembled, was his only way.
Not that he enjoyed the necessity of using either of them.
But it was the only way he could see where Bella was.
It was hard enough just sit still and watch.
Five days away had been hellish.
Still he didn't stay with them always. He didn't like his focus being invaded by Jessica's self-absorption and both of them spent just as much time in dressing rooms at the same time as out of them, places he followed neither of them into.
Which was, of course, how he ended up driving down the west side of the street in Port Angeles, clinging to the shadows thrown by buildings, staring through dark tinted windows at the still too far away sunset clouds headed toward the bookstore Angela had thought of when he realized Bella had walked off from them. He cursed his luck and not having considered her leaving them when he was being respectful to their privacy.
He stood trying to pretend he didn't feel like a caged wild animal staring at the edge of awning shadows where sunlight kept him at bay. That Bella was missing. That she wasn't in the bookstore. That he could not follow her scent were it went, out there into the radiant light of late afternoon.
Two days it had kept him prisoner from her already--from any insistence of a life he might have outside sitting in shadows and waiting for it to go back behind the rain soaked clouds. This was almost more than he could bear. This was not sleepy little Forks with its timelessness or boredom. It was Port Angeles, and it the sunshine gloated at him.
So he got back in his car, back behind the protective barrier of the black convection glass, and the west ward wall shadows, cursing in low guttural snarls as he drove around the unhelpful Port streets watching for her in miles of eyes.
It had to have been hours.
Waiting and watching and fretting, helpless as the sunset lingered.
He drove between the dress shop, the restaurant and the bookstore frantic.
And then just as suddenly her face had filled his mind, bringing with it a sharp exquisite relief, only to be dashed by the thoughts (Here she comes! Ah!) of the monster who had Bella Swan in his sights. His steering wheel and the floor board under the gas pedal were nearly devastated by the sudden reaction accompanying the yell the bellowed out of him.
There was no way to tell where they were.
Bella was in the shadows, a look of quiet dread and fear on her face.
He enjoyed that. It reminded him of his other victims. All the others faces that flickered in with Bella's. She would fit in well with them he thought.
The sounds emanating from Edward shook the frame of the car, the metal beneath his fingers crying out from the pressure extricate on it. He needed a street sign, a store front, anything more than just the section of the city. The Volvo flew through alleys, narrowly dodging other drivers who didn't even exist in his mind anymore by the time they'd managed to honk and swerve.
There were others with him.
His called them to Edward's attention and he leapt for them, casting about for the direction and sights--and, yes, a cross street. The drunken boys in the cast about the ring leader, this Lonnie, had no true idea about his intentions toward Bella. He'd only promises them a little fun...
Edward would kill them all-- for considering it, for looking at her.
The red light flew over his car unheeded, like the honking to his right and left when he slid through a space just big enough to take the car without what should have been a devastating five car pileup. His pocket vibrated, but he ignored it. He couldn't answer, couldn't think straight, had to get to Bella.
Lonnie was advancing on her, pleading in his mind with her, that she might scream and beg. Edward wasn't going to kill Lonnie first. No, he would dispatch his little gang, necks snapped and limbs broken in seconds, and then he was going to rip every hair out of Lonnie's body one at a time in his time frame, not a human one, break each joint or bones that could be without tearing his skin and then pull his skin off in strips no bigger than half an inch, then the same with his muscles, tear out his tongue so he couldn't scream or beg for the mercy that wouldn't be afforded to him, leave his blood and body be wasted meat in the street.
He could hear the squealing tires of the Volvo in the minds of the men now. He pressed the gas pedal harder, listening to the gears in the floor grind with the unnatural pressure.
Lonnie was nearly at Bella now, one hand extended to her, his thoughts racing over her body and her face -- when suddenly the car spun around a corner and it was pristinely in front of. The man Lonnie, and Bella, all the lollygag hoodlums he'd collected drunkenly at the bar. There was no temptation to run him over.
It was far too merciful.
He needed to die in the kind of pain where he'd pray he'd never been given the right to breathe. Lonnie jumped out of the way of the Volvo as it spun out, sideways and around, so that he was facing the way he'd come, one hand deathly still on the wheel and the other throwing wide open the passenger door toward where Bella stood.
"Get in," he snarled, barely able to form words through violent rage.
She listened, for once. Ran for the door, hurtling herself into his passenger seat and slamming the door behind her, an explosion of sickening delicious glee burbling up at her scent, as his eyes snapped to the rear view mirror and Lonnie's face before it went to her.
Edward's violent plans for the perfect torture and murder cracked;
On the most trusting expression he'd ever seen in his century of life.
He couldn't leave her alone, take them somewhere else to do it.
Couldn't run him over without terrifying her.
He couldn't kill any of them in front of her.
He couldn't kill them right now.
Violent, scalding anger flared at her being in the way of him defending her life, of ripping five people who have no right to any semblance of life from it. He nearly growled at her in the utter frustration of the pure red he was seeing. The flavor of their deaths was in the tension the held the muscles in his back rigid, the venom in his mouth, the haze of his perfect vision. The savage need was so strong. Still she stared up at him, fragile as a soap bubble, unknowing of the danger she'd actually been in, brown eyes wide and trusting, full of relief and awe, and he had to look away.
Snapping at her to put on her seat belt as her maneuvered the car into reverse, the needle idling around sixty.
Vengeance had to wait. Vengeance had to wait. Vengeance had to wait.
He was good at patient now, right?
Their voices traded words his thoughts couldn't hold on to.
How could he leave her alone anywhere now?
If this was what happened?
He desperately needed to be able to think clearly.
"Distract me, please."
