DRY SEPTEMBER
By NeuroticMuse413
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DISCLAIMER: Don't own Twilight. Duh. Or any part of William Faulkner's "Dry September," after which this story is titled.
SUMMARY: AU. Edward sees Bella being attacked but is told not to interfere. Unable to stop himself, he pulls her back from the brink of death with a bite and a kiss and takes her back to her room where he gently puts her to sleep. When Bella wakes, she goes about her days as a normal girl. Then, come night, the blood lust begins and Edward must keep her in check without revealing himself - or his family - to this beautiful stranger.
WARNINGS: There's no rape, but definite violence, language, and all sorts of vamp-on-vamp sexiness. Enjoy.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story features different vampire rules. They'll be explained later on but well, just in case you miss it. 1) They can walk in the daylight without sparkling but it does hurt them with prolonged exposure, especially when they haven't eaten. 2) They share a deep psychological connection with the person they turn and are able to invade their dreams and thoughts. 3) They don't change appearance so much after transformation but it's still noticeable. The fangs don't grow in for a while so they're supposed to stay with their sires. 4) They are not poisonous and may feed without killing. All other rules apply. For now. Special thanks to Jeny, the world's greatest beta.
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CHAPTER ONE
A Death Foretold
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BELLA
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I still remember the last thing I ever ate. It was leftover pizza from that five-dollar place across the street from campus. I don't remember the taste, only that the dough had turned to rubber in the microwave but I'd been too starved to care and too overwhelmed with my history paper to get up and get something better back in my dorm. So, I smothered it in salt to hide the day-old taste and drowned it all with Coke, then went on to write my paper in the library before the librarians noticed I'd snuck in food and kicked me out. Again.
By midnight, I was hungry again but I was on deadline. I bullshitted the final paragraph and sent it to my teacher's email at exactly 11:57, three minutes before it was due. I told myself I would have gone back and proofread if I'd had time but that was a lie. My ego did not allow for the existence of grammatical mistakes. I let out a deep sigh of relief and slid down in my chair, stretching my arms over my head to get the jabbing pain out of the small of my back. Confident that my GPA would be intact the next morning and sure my roommates were done screwing, I got up a few hours later and walked to my death.
Edward tells me I shouldn't remember the attack. It's not human. They repress traumatic events, he says. But my death was not traumatic. It was painful, yes, but not traumatic. In fact, it was the most liberating experience of my life. Maybe I was never human to begin with, just half of the equation, waiting for Edward to show from between the trees.
It began with a walk. It was a dry September twilight, after two miraculously rainless days. It felt strange not having to drag my feet through puddles of water, dodging hidden potholes through the dark, empty street.
I saw the men in the distance, just over the bridge, but didn't give them any credence. I was used to seeing groups in corners, getting high or drunk, thinking they were safe because they kept in numbers. It was true. Edward was never able to get them all, but the slowest always suffer for the group.
I used to love to study group behavior in class. An individual was easy. He or she is usually rational. Sociology is where the truth lies, the power of society on the individual. It feels ironic now that I was destined to spend the rest of my life with a single other person, cast away from society.
The men did not kill me. Edward did. They did, however, cause my death.
You see, I followed the sidewalk over the bridge to the dorms. The lake below was deeper than it looked and full of rocks. I walked towards the men without worry, my mind filled with a thousand irrelevant details. I didn't expect them to stop me. I looked up and found they'd blocked the way off the bridge. They turned their full attention to me the way a predator finds and corners their prey. I didn't understand what they could possibly want with me, not at that point. I was of no consequence. Sure, I was a woman, with all the relevant anatomical details, but I was hardly desirable.
I was just… Bella, who lived in the library and wore, well, fabric. I didn't really have any style, no attention to personal appearance beyond basic hygiene, didn't wear make-up of any sort. So why me? I'd never get an answer. For years, I would think my death as useless, pointless, a case of "wrong place at the wrong time." It would take an eternity for me to believe in fate.
They catcalled, whistled, shouted. They didn't scare me. I knew they were probably just townies and would leave me alone once they realized I wasn't interested in being their plaything. I never thought they had the guts to hurt me, until the leader came forth from the group. There's always one, the malignant personality that drives the collective. I would learn his name was James. He was an ugly bastard. Bottle blond, I noticed as he drew closer. I was about to be raped by a bottle blond. Great.
As he drew closer, his eyes reflected the light from the library behind me and I felt fear for the first time. That's when I met my first predator, the tall figure that would haunt my waking nightmares. He pressed me up against the edge of the bridge, a hand to my chest, gripping my shirt. My expression didn't change. I was still not impressed though I was sure he could hear my rapidly beating heart.
He was saying something. I'll never remember what because he was so drunk that the alcohol on his breath was making me woozy, but I remember him trying to kiss me. He leaned in but his body just sort of collapsed on mine as though he didn't even have the strength. He dropped the beer bottle he had in one hand and I thought he was going to slide down my front like a cartoon.
I think he called me a frigid bitch and I decided they'd had their fun. My knee met his groin, twice, and he tumbled down into a fetal ball at my feet. I tried to run but the others had blocked me off. They were tipsy too and I thought I could pull a fake-out and get through their ranks. I'd watched my friends play football for so many years that I thought I could outsmart my burly attackers. I didn't consider James, curled up in a ball on the floor, as I ran backwards.
I knew I was clumsy. I didn't think it'd kill me.
I fell backwards and stumbled right over the edge of the bridge. That gasp would be my last breath. I didn't even get the chance to swim. All those kiddie classes at the Y, all for nothing. There was a sharp pain up my arms and legs when I hit the water. I saw the men scramble out of there and then there was just water, feet upon feet of it. Bubbles and foam and later grass enveloped me. I was awake long enough to scream when the back of my head crashed onto those rocks and then…
His arms were around me.
Edward.
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EDWARD
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My father tells me I'm the most human of us all because of my empathy but I know it is not empathy at all, rather envy and pious admiration for the species. These fragile things, my supposed prey, were the most elegant depiction of life nature had ever conjured for our entertainment. I was one of them once and I knew I drifted away from them with every decade. It was that useless desire to be like them again that fueled my separation from civilization for so many years.
I always knew I was a monster, ever since I woke up in my father's arms in the basement of a Chicago hospital with an uncomfortable bloodlust. I'd been left orphaned and sick. He was the only solution at the time. I forgave him long ago for I knew he had intended to save me, not condemn me. I'd been young yet when I forgave him.
Anything was better than death, I thought. I was foolish.
It is too late to be angry at Carlisle. He became my father almost instantly. For a time, we were a family. He gave me a brother, Jasper, and sisters, Alice and Rosalie. He even gave me a mother to replace the one I'd lost. He taught me how to live without killing humans and how to keep my condition hidden, even from our own kinds. Humans were so easily seduced by a fashionable pea coat or a caring smile. They took one whiff of those pheromones and I was welcomed into their doors. Years ago, I had thought that granted me the right to play judge, jury, and executioner. Parts of me still think that way, but I always listened to Carlisle.
It was he who found me again, looking the streets for murderers, rapists… It was his power over me that set me straight, snapped me out of my frenzy. A vampire's sire is stronger than a parent, the pull to obey them too strong for even the most rebellious of new vampires to deny. That's why I didn't pull her away the instant I saw she was in trouble. I could have walked her home. I could have fought off the attackers effortlessly. I could have moved from my spot on the other side of the lake, but I never did.
Stop, Edward, Carlisle warned in my head. I know what you're thinking. I know what you want to do but you will only expose us, child. The life of one stranger does not equate to the lives of many.
I can hear their thoughts! You know what they want to do to her! I can't just stand here and watch! I answered.
You must! He didn't need to elaborate or explain. I knew the reasons why he begged me to let her die. The need to obey was also too strong.
I knew that was the rational thing to say, to do. I loved my family. They were the only reason I didn't go to the Volturi years ago and beg to be killed. But I couldn't do it. I saw her face in the distance as clearly as though in sunlight. I couldn't see fear so I didn't move. I saw her plan. For a moment, I thought she could get away. There was an opening. She could have if she'd just stepped over the idiot on the floor. I can't really judge her actions in the moment.
Even after she fell, I thought I could relax. It was water, surely safer and softer than the low railing on the bridge or the planks or the soil beneath my feet. That's when I heard the sound in the distance, slight even to my superhuman ears. It was the sound of bone cracking, a skull splitting underwater.
The men scrambled out of there by the time I got to the railing and jumped in, completely oblivious of any onlookers or the voice in my head, compelling me to stop. I walked the rocks like I was one of them and brought her limp body to my chest. I caressed her cheek for a second before pulling her up.
The second felt like a decade to me but it had been years since I held a woman in my arms like this, with no fear of killing her. The water hid her scent. I was not swayed by what I would later discover was an intoxicating, pheromone-charged aroma. When I tell her I fell in love with her at that moment, I am of course lying. But I felt the pull to her then. I felt the strings of fate tying us together.
I heard her heart slow and the blood rush out of her wound. The water did not allow for the blood's appeal to reach me quite yet. I held my breath, just in case. I propelled us off the rocks to the surface. From there, getting back on the bridge was no problem at all for someone like me. I set her down on her side. I knew she didn't have time to take a deep breath underwater. Her lungs were not filled and she hadn't quite been drowning yet. It was the hole in the back of her skull that was killing her.
I thought I could save her but, more importantly, I felt I had to. I felt responsible for listening to Carlisle when every cell in my body told me that I was there to save her. I had to have been. After all, I had never known Alice to be wrong.
I took her in my arms again and started running for the library. My home was beneath. I took the entrance on the side, quite aware of time, and ran the staircase underground. I didn't have a bed but I had a comfy couch for reading. I put her down gently on her side and went for my medical supplies. They were necessary when feasting on co-eds. Though we were careful, it was possible for the meal to wake and try to fight back and then who knows what arteries might be nicked. It had happened to Rose on more than one occasion but she always depended on looks and sex to mesmerize her prey. I depended on chloroform, among other things I still try to forget.
I never made it back in time, even with my inhuman speed. I could hear her heart like a slow drum, fading fading fading. And then, it almost completely stopped. I dropped my medicalf bag and was by her side in an instant, holding her hand. She didn't squeeze back. She wasn't even awake, unaware of that final beat.
I could have left her to go then the way I'd done so many others that I'd found half-dead, that I'd killed myself. Carlisle's strength was begging me to let her go. But I didn't.
I gasped, readying myself for the final beat, and the blood scent finally reached me. I couldn't let that scent just wither and die. It got into my head so quickly that I didn't even realize what I was doing until I was wiping the blood away from my lips. My own blood. I tore at my wrist and brought the poison to her lips.
Carlisle had been begging me to let her die. For all intents and purposes, I did.
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I watched her sleep for a few hours from across the room. She didn't move all morning so I eventually closed my eyes and let the sounds tell me she was changing. Her heart received a sudden jolt from my poisonous blood and spread it throughout her body. I could hear the flow in her veins. I could hear tiny whines that would have escaped anyone else. I studied and memorized the curves of her face. Those would change as well in a few hours, just slightly. She was already growing pale and the bruises would soon blossom under her eyes. I wondered what color they'd been before. In a year, they would be as gold as mine.
Around midday, the healing had taken full speed. The movement and growth of bone on the back of her head could be heard all around the loft, at least to me.
The hunger was getting stronger. I hadn't had anything to drink in a week and having her blood on my hands – I had washed them a dozen times and changed my shirt twice though that hardly seemed to matter – was making the hunger worse.
For someone such as me, who had seen and would see so many days pass and so many past lovers sleep, this was the longest, most painful short period of my life. It was the uselessness, the adrenaline running through my veins and the possibility of detection. A dozen people had been in the area, not counting the thugs that assaulted her.
It would soon be sunset again and she would rise. Hungry.
I started to fret as I felt the sun go down outside. I didn't need windows to know. My clocks were internal. I called to the voices in my head, to Carlisle on the other side of the country, but heard only my own inner voice.
Carlisle, what do I do now? I begged but he never answered. I wondered if I had finally done something to disappoint my father. After all, I had so little personal experience changing people. I was sure I'd done it right but I wasn't ready to be a father to a fledgling vampire. It'd been too long since I'd been changed and I didn't remember much. I just remembered my father's voice in my head. Always. And the feeling of safety that came with it.
So I closed my eyes and went searching for her in the darkness. At first, there was only Carlisle's light and the faint murmurs made by my family members. I searched and searched until my head ached for the first time in a decade. Then the sun went down and her light overwhelmed me. I stumbled back and my eyes shot open. I gasped again and quickly covered my mouth. I cursed softly and walked out into the bathroom on the other side of the loft, trying to evade her delicious scent.
Who's there? her voice sounded in my head. She was scared, I could tell. I hid in the shower and pulled the glass door shut. I hugged my knees and concentrated. I could see her in my head, her face enveloped in the light and mist. She was gagging on air outside, still not accustomed to her new lungs. I shut my eyes tighter. Please! I can see you there. Who are you? What's happened?
I swallowed my fears and prepared myself for a long explanation. I knew she would not remember right away so I took her someplace safer. A fantasy. I rifled through my memories quickly and found the remnants of Carlisle's castle in Scotland. It'd been the last time the whole family was together. I longed to be there with them now and my imagination dragged her along.
Suddenly, we were no longer in a library basement. We were on the lawn of a palace with large white columns and a maze of hedges. I hadn't been there since the '50s so Jasper's motorcycle was still parked up against one of the columns in the distance. I looked around, making sure all the details, down to the bushes of red roses in the distance were correct, before addressing her concerns.
"You're dreaming," I lied. Suddenly, we weren't in my head anymore. We were in our own little world, something I had never done before, not even with Carlisle.
She wrapped her arms around her thundering stomach and looked at me with a raised eyebrow, obviously suspicious. She wasn't an idiot. She certainly wasn't gullible and she didn't seem to be accepting my presence as her superior, her sire. I figured it was just me who did not know how to properly command.
"A dream would never tell me I'm dreaming. You're a crappy liar. Also, if this were a dream, you'd be Brat Pitt."
I smirked against my will, strangely intrigued. It had been years since I'd allowed someone other than my family into my inner sanctum, certainly never conjured up a fantasy land for the person to play. "How do you explain our presence here? Your dress?"
She looked down suddenly at the black dress I'd conjured for her. I could tell she was starting to get agitated.
"Stop breathing," I told her. "Stop forcing your body to remember to breathe. You don't need it here. It'll make you feel better."
"Where is here?" she insisted through gritted teeth. "And don't tell me this is a dream."
I didn't answer, merely stared at her. I slid my hands into my pockets and walked around her tiny frame, taking in every detail for my great mental warehouse. I could already feel the sense of ownership and an odd admiration. She was not just a new toy, one I now had to spend the rest of eternity caring for. She was my new friend. I smiled madly, in the dream as well as real life.
"How do you know?" I whispered, my brow furrowed.
She reached out into the space between us and cupped my face with her hands. I hadn't been touched like that in years. I froze and tensed into stone. Her gentle brown eyes locked on mine and silently pleaded for the games to stop.
"What are you?" she asked.
I gulped and ran my hands up her arms, never happier that it wasn't real. I didn't think myself capable of that in real life, of that tiny flicker of intimacy. I pulled her off me gently. She didn't fight. She was mesmerized by something in my eyes, something of the animal buried deep that had somehow made its way to the surface just for her.
"I'm a friend," I answered with a sad smile, trying to reassure her, gripping her arms as tightly as I could so she'd know I was serious. "This is a dream and you're going to wake up soon and then… you'll never want to sleep again. But it's okay because you'll always have this place. Look around. Anytime you need me, just find me. I'll be right here."
She nodded and the uncontrollable urge to trust began to sink in. I could tell by the way her every muscle relaxed. She fell forward onto her knees. I followed, crushed her to my chest. I let the dream melt around us and I was back in my shower floor and she was in the other room. I thought I was strong enough to move so I slid open the glass door and hovered over her limp body. She'd returned to sleep, just as I'd commanded her. It was the last she'd ever be able to sleep, at least without me.
She nuzzled into my chest as I carried her through the shadows of night. I took her license from her back pocket and her student ID. Her name was Isabella Swan and she didn't photograph well. She also apparently lived in the Easterbrook dorms, room 215. I had to wait for a few people to clear the hallway before going up to the door and sliding her ID. It wouldn't open otherwise. I slowly ascended the stairs and opened her door, seemingly unlocked.
I realized why upon entering. There was nothing inside. It was a bed, a trunk at the foot of it, and a writing desk. The desk was littered with papers and columns of books, most from my beloved library. I set her down on her bed and began to scan through her papers. She used big words for no absolute reason and didn't space her paragraphs well. Ah, how I missed the college years. I was so naïve the first time around.
Her books were beautiful though, from all ages and all genres. I knew they weren't for any class and smiled brighter. I was too entertained by them to notice the footsteps outside. Before I could leave, the door opened and a man with broad shoulders and curly hair stepped inside. We both froze, until his eyes fell upon Bella in bed, curled up on her side.
"She had a rough night," I quickly explained. "She asked me to drop her off. I just wanted to make sure she was okay."
He chuckled. "Bella? My Bella? A rough night? What, did a book stack fall on her?" he joked, coming to cover her with sheets. I didn't need sheets so it hadn't crossed my mind to cover her up.
"No, she was celebrating something and got a little drunk," I lied. I didn't want him in her room a second longer. She was my Bella, not his, though I never thought the exact words. "She was kind of a lightweight."
"You the designated driver or somethin'?" asked the man.
I shrugged. "Something like that."
The man nodded and put out a hand. "Well, thanks, man. I'm Emmett."
I looked at it for a moment. I had to remember to rein back my jealousy and not squeeze his bones to dust. "I'm Edward," I offered softly, hoping he'd forget it as soon as he heard it. There was power in a name and I didn't want this Emmett holding any power over me.
He let go of my hand quickly and leaned over to get a block of post-its off the desk. He wrote her a quick note and stuck it to the back of her door on the way out. He waved and closed it loudly, obviously in a hurry. I pondered whether or not to read it and the dozen others crumbled up on the floor by the trash can. They were in different handwritings but most were from this Emmett person.
I couldn't help it. After all, it's not like he made any effort to hide it. It read:
"Bell, don't do anything I wouldn't do. C U in class. – Emmett."
I chuckled softly and looked back at the ever-more pale creature in bed. I tried to put it out of my mind and wrote my own little note to put up beneath his, in my handwriting. I couldn't think of anything but I wanted to leave something of myself behind for when she woke and the nightmare began. Only two words came to mind.
"Be safe. – E"
I hid it beneath Emmett's note so it wouldn't be too obvious. I bent down to kiss her cheek, went to shut off the lights, and jumped out the window effortlessly. I memorized which one it was, planning many future visits, and returned to my monster's lair where I had already begun to plan out this new eternity. It would be dangerous. It would be painful in ways I never imagined, but that's the pain that comes with reawakening a brittle, old heart.
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Chapter Two coming soon! Bella wakes up in her room and finds… changes. Hilarity ensues as she starts attracting attention from the opposite sex.
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Reviews are like manifestations of Brad Pitt.