Author's Note:

This is a random piece of darkness that I needed to get it out of my head. No beta.

WARNING: Seriously depressing story dealing with is theme of miscarriage.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing.

She cannot cry, so she hums as she stabs the ground with her hands. Her face is smeared with dark streaks of dirt. I watch from the branches of the old willow, as she digs a shallow hole in the ground below, the moist earth staining her hand black.

She climbs into the hole, curling herself into a ball as she cradles a bloodstained scrap of cloth to her breast. I thought that Alice had removed all the remnants from the house, but she always seems to find something, to help her remember. To help her grieve.

Bella whimpers and I close my eyes, like a coward. I cannot bear the sight, but I can still taste her guilt and anguish in the air. I would tear out my heart if it would relieve her of this never-ending agony that she carries like Atlas. My wedding gift.