The deception of losing the one you love is something I cannot quite explain, not unless you've felt it before. How could I possibly describe the level of bitterness I achieved when I finally comprehended I would never see her again.

"She's gone," I told Jacob when he found me in the forest and gathered me in his arms. I could clearly see he was a bit confused by my use of the personal pronoun, but he did not question me. He probably thought me unhinged after the dramatic ending of my relationship.

I said no more to him for a week at least, and even to this day I have not revealed my heart to anyone else. I think of her more often that I would like, and I would like to not think of her at all, but I have learned to cope. Unfortunately, the changing process from the girl I was to the woman I am has erased a fragment of my humanity. I would not say I am truly rancorous, only partially angry and a daily cynical. However, I am mostly resigned to my fate as a loveless human for however many years I have left.

I am thirty-five now and not getting any younger. It is obvious that I cannot wait any longer than I have already. But I am a fool. I do not whether I achieved fame whether for my own sake and personal accomplishment, or just so she would see me on HDTV. I am quite sure she does, but if for the last ten years she hasn't come to me, then she will not for the next ten either.

I lace my fingers together and observe the landscape before me. Bergen is such beautiful city; it's a shame I must leave so soon. Businesswomen have little to none vacation days, and though this isn't a vacation, it is the closest thing I have had in a long time. I've learned the hard way that men have more, though not by much, privileges in comparison. This world is a tank, and the little fish must thrive or they get eaten: survival of the fittest; Darwin was a genius.

"Everyone is in position, Miss Isabella," I nod without turning. My secretary sneaks away as stealthily as she came. I am, so far, content with her performance. She is nice, but professional, and will never stick her nose into my personal life. She does not look for a friend, or a quick-way to a promotion through the doors of my apartment. I like her enough to remember her name and pay for both our coffees when I'm in a good mood.

I take a deep breath before standing and heading to the Conference Room. I calm myself before reaching the hallway that gives way to the room. This position assures me I will not be seen while I placate my nerves before a meeting. Any visible show of weakness can give these people the wrong idea and the 'right' to question my leadership. I cannot have that; and I certainly do not want to dismiss anyone when the company is stable and growing. More so, and I know this is childish, I do not want to do the paperwork or see another man or woman crying their hearts out. I simply do not have the heart or time for that.

I open the door and stroll confidently to my place at the end of the table. I smirk inwardly; the true bloodsuckers are in this room, including myself. I keep tabs on everyone here, and none is what you could call a Saint. Every fetish, every little dirty secret well-kept behind doors, I know. I did not get this far without a bit of dirty fight.

"Let us begin," My voice will not weaver at any point. I am in control and I know it. My eyes, steely, are always on the prowl. I unnerve my staff and I relish in that lone fact. I rule with iron fist, but they cannot complain, what with how high their salary is. I do not sweat, my hands do not shake; I don't remember the last time I blushed any more than I remember the last time I socialized.

My turn is over before I realize, and the man to my right waits for my permission to start his presentation. I nod at him and cross my arms under my chest as I analyze his proposal. They all know what I will answer, that I will call to another meeting for tomorrow, after I've analyzed myself the pros and cons.

The meeting is over before long. We all shake hands politely and go on our way. My phone vibrates and I see a message from my secretary, informing me that someone has called her to contact me. I answer quickly and head to my temporary office, where I know she has already left the number to call back.

But all I see when I arrive is darkness, and the most sinister silence invades the entire floor. I have a bad feeling about this; there are goose bumps all over my arms. My instincts have never failed me; there is something dangerous lurking here. And I think bitterly, it is probably waiting for me.

I hesitate for a fraction of second before opening the door of my office. There are no words to describe what comes next, when I see a man standing before the corpse of my former secretary. My words leave me for a minute.

And then I see his red eyes, shining brighter than the malicious smile that tugs at his lips.

I sigh, my chest heaves as I shuffle to the bar in the corner and pour myself some vodka.

"I would offer you, but..." I trail. I do not know how, but the moment I saw him I knew that he knew. He nods and sits in front of me, as if he hadn't just killed my most efficient secretary. I would sue him if I could, or at least if my life wasn't in peril as it is.

"Isabella Swan. You are not like I remember." He purses his lips and seems to be calculating his next step. I've seen that look before, in men that ponder their next words. However, as far as I am concerned, he is choosing how I will die. He is obliged to; I recognize the uniform.

My grimace says everything about the taste of the liquid fire that travels down my throat. I face him directly, now collected and determined not to prolong this, "I am most certain I have never seen you before in my life. Why have you not killed me yet?" He throws his head back and laughs. His long hair shakes with him, and it's almost comical, given his stature. Nevertheless, he is beautiful, like every one of his race, and even as a dwarf he would look gorgeous while sneezing.

"I do enjoy the newlyfound steel in your bones, Isabella, May I call you Bella?" I simply shrug. I do not care how he calls me. I just hate when people beat around the bush like he's doing now. If calling me Gandalf will help speed up this conversation, then I'll wear the hat and staff if I have to.

"Could I touch your hand?" I remember him now, and his gift. He is not another minion in the Volturi. I frown, but I do as he asks. I suppose I am 'lucky' that he is taking so long in ending my life. The other possibility does not leave my mind, but I do not entertain the thought as much.

His smirk widens when he finally touches my hand, slowly feeling them from my digits to my wrist. I am honestly spooked by this almost sensuous movement, but I do not let him on it. His eyes swirl with excitement and he finally shows his true colors when I see the venom slip through for a second.

"You saw nothing, did you, Aro of the Volturi?" I cross my arms under my chest and allow myself a small sardonic smile. He claps his hands and stands up, seeming truly moved.

"I did not, you are right." He smiles. I am taken aback for the first time. It is soft like a breeze, and I feel no malice from him any longer. My eyes dart to my secretary's corpse. Well, almost.

"Are you here to kill me or change me?"

"It was decided by consensus that you would be killed, rather than changed." He huffes like a petulant, offended child. "I argued that it was a waste to dispose of such a talent, but my brother was rather adamant that we exterminate you immediately." He is only missing the pout now.

"Why are we talking then?" He smiles softly.

"I simply cannot anymore." He stands and grabs my hands in his, applying as little force as he can so as not to squish them. I am truly curious by his demeanor. Or maybe he is truly as insane as he was described to me.

"At first, I was to abide the decision. But I came here, and you are not Bella anymore, but Isabella. The vision, the memories I had of you are no more. I see it in you, that you yourself killed that child. You are a fascinating specimen, and I want to study you." He tilts his head and nods. "I am a very curious man, and I have the means to indulge myself every now and then. Your gift may very well be one of the reasons, but there is something in you that attracts my mind. And I want it, Bella."

I sigh and nod, "Very well, let me resign so you can change me." He shakes his head fervently to his sides. My eyes bore into his, and I frown.

"Then... what do you want, Aro?" He smirks and kisses my knuckles one my one.

"Business, my dear. Only business. And you simply cannot refuse." His tone gives away the true meaning of his words: either accept or die.

I feel no inclination towards death yet, no matter how depressing my life presents itself to be sometimes. I wonder if Aro's deal will make me wish for death, either now or in the future. But I already shook his hand, before I noticed, and I never back down from a deal, consequences be damned.

"I owe you much, Miss Swan. More than you could imagine." He pauses and smiles at me. Again, softly. "It is a rough path before the end, but I am positively sure you will fulfill all my expectations. Let us make a toast, to the dark future ahead of us." He refills my glass. My lips part on their own accord to allow his catering to me. I have a feeling this will be one of my last moments to 'relax'. I do not think Aro to be maniacal, I think him like Darwin, a mind of its own. However, I do not think Darwin had the power Aro possesses today, nor his cunning. I can see it now, the pact I made with the devil could only make me a devil myself.

Maybe now I won't have time to think about her anymore. Whatever Aro's plans are, I have a feeling it won't be pretty for me. But it's alright, I am ready to give up what I have left of humanity.

Just a little something to show I am still alive. M to be safe.

Updated: 21/11/2015