Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. I also don't own Alice in Wonderland. I do own my storyline though, and I have for years.

A/N: I posted this story a while back and took it down. Now I'm posting it back up cause I love it. It's changed a bit so if you've read it before please read it again.

Thank you to my soulmate Sobriquett, to babette, and blondie for betaing this. I may have been too stubborn to take some of the suggestions, but I appreciate them all.

To clarify, flashbacks are black italics. Oh, and you might want to pay attention to everything. This looks best in 3/4 or 1/2 and if you click the "s" button once.

Part One: Edward—Tainted

Song: Aufschwung--Robert Schumann

Foo Fighters--Come Alive

Clair de Lune--Debussy

"Ding dong."

The window is open.

"Ding dong."

I have no idea why the window is open.

"Ding dong."

It's been open since I got here.

"Ding ding dong."

It never closes.

(Her window is always open. It never closes. Not to me, never to me. I climb up the tree that brings me closer, knowing she is always waiting for me)

I clench my hair between my fingers and tug.

"Ding ding doooooong."

Just close the fucking window!

I pull harder.

No. Never.

"Ding dooooong."

My arms are shaking. I try to roll closer against the wall, away from this God forsaken window.

"Tick toooooock."

"WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?" I roar at the window. The forever open window.

I hate it.

I hate her.

"What's the matter, vampire?"

"Would you stop fucking calling me that?" I scream. I can't help myself. Softer, I add, "It doesn't even rhyme."

She laughs.

I knew she would.

"Diiiiiing dooooong."

I groan. Please stop, please stop. "SHUT UP!"

"The bells are ringing, Edward."

The. Bells. Are. Always. Ringing.

"Edward."

I can't yell anymore. My throat is closing, my face burning. I clench my hair even tighter. I want to pull it out. I whisper, "Please don't call me that."

I hope she doesn't hear.

Laughter. Full and real and loud and high and mocking. Always mocking me.

And she always hears.

"But Ed—

What else should I call you?"

"Leave me alone." I try to hide the sniffle but I can't. I try to stop the tear but it falls anyway. I try to force my hands to relax. My scalp screams.

Let go, let go, let go.

No.

Another tear falls.

My mother decides it's best to leave. The summer house, she keeps saying; things will be better when we get to the summer house.

All we need is some quiet.

A lie. It's quiet enough in that house. Without…

Without him, the house is silent.

What she really wants is her quiet son back. Little Edward Jr. who never went out, who stayed in and studied, who played the piano for his Mother and wrote songs and poems for—

Little Eddie is gone now. How can there be a Junior when there is no Senior? Suddenly, Eddie is loud. Eddie is angry. Eddie breaks his piano and shreds his poems.

Eddie is gone.

"What else should I call you?"

Anthony is a good name, as good as any other and technically my name as well. Anthony was born when Edward died.

My mother doesn't much like Anthony.

Just some peace and quiet, she says. To get away from the boys Anthony is friends with; the boys who sneak vodka into school in water bottles and smoke pot behind the bleachers; the boys who used to beat up little Eddie but respect Anthony. Anthony doesn't care about Private Property or Adults Only.

Anthony is fearless.

Mother didn't like my parties, especially the last. The house was wrecked and I ended up passed out in my own vomit in the backyard: one of the downsides to Anthony. When Mother got home that day she was beyond the point of wanting to yell. She just cleaned me up and left the room. Edward thought she might be crying, Anthony didn't care.

She didn't like Anthony much either. Because Anthony wasn't afraid of women and the women loved Anthony.

"Edward... Who are you?"

No, no, no more thoughts of her. She didn't understand. She never understood anything.

Except for everything.

It doesn't matter any more.

Nothing ever does.

The room is blue.

An obnoxious blue. It's the color of the sky when a storm is approaching. The color of the dirty lake this town is so proud of.

The color of tears.

The color of my soul.

It's the color of her eyes. The girl in the house next door. Who's always on our balcony, always there when I want to be left alone.

I always want to be alone.

I hate the walls. I hate the paint.

I want to paint it something different. Something warm. Something brown.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Um… It changes, honestly. But right now I'd say brown."

"Brown? That's a little strange."

"I don't know… Brown is everywhere. The trees, the mud, the grass. Brown is warm."

Happy, bright and pure chocolate brown meets sad, dull and broken green.

Maybe blue is the right color after all.

My room is exactly parallel to her balcony. Looking out my window, no matter where I am in my room, I can see her abnormally large balcony. I always wait for someone to call on her.

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"

"I don't know. But I wish I wasn't."

"This Juliet is happy with her Romeo. You are perfect."

No one ever has.

She's a strange little thing. Tinier than anyone I've ever met, with short, spiky black hair and pure white skin that looks made of stone. Her clothes consist of a black tank top with black shorts and they always seem to hang off of her thin frame. She never wears shoes.

I crave flowing mahogany, soft skin, white sundresses which cling to subtle curves.

From the moment I walked into my room she was there, doing her handstands and cartwheels on her balcony floor, walking on the rail as if falling wasn't a possibility for her at all. As if she could fly. Sometimes, I wonder if she can.

"What's your name, copper boy?" she asked.

"Anthony," I said, without hesitation. It was a lie. Anthony wasn't the boy who was sitting in his room, locked away again. But it wasn't little Eddie either; there was nothing to write with and a keyboard in the corner which would soon collect dust. I didn't play piano. Whoever I was.

Those blue eyes bore into mine and I learned the mystery of the window.

No matter how badly I wanted to, I could not close it.

No matter how badly I want to, I cannot close it.

I've never actually tried.

It's not a choice.

She laughed. I didn't know to hate it then. I learned quickly.

"Well, Edward, my name is Alice."

She laughed again in response, I'm sure, to my stunned expression.

I wanted to protest. At the time I didn't. When I do, it doesn't matter. Alice always catches lies. Even when I don't know I'm speaking them.

"Who would you be, Edward?"

I wish to sleep. To close my eyes and welcome the emptiness of sleep. But sleep hasn't been empty since the pixie girl across the way appeared. Now my dreams are filled with disappointed brown eyes which shine up at me and ask me, 'Why?'

I pull my pillow over my head.

"Edwaaaaard."

Please don't call me that. Edward is gone. Edward is dead.

"Can you hear them ringing, Edward?"

I give up and throw the pillow away from my head. My eyes automatically fall to the figure just outside my window. She is leaning over the railing, an image of black and white with glowing wall blue eyes that send a chill down my spine.

"What's ringing?" I ask.

She looks off into the distance and I can't help but wonder what she hears. "The bells, Edward. The bells are ringing." Alice moves her eyes back to me and watches. Thoughtful. "The bells are always ringing, Edward."

I wonder if she thinks saying that name over and over again will make it true.

"Go back to Wonderland, Alice. I only wish to sleep," I say, my body sliding off the bed and onto the floor.

She begins to do a handstand or at least she attempts it. Every time her feet fly to the air they come back down in a mock cartwheel instead.

"Who would you be, Edward?" she asks again with no loss of breath or even a stutter.

"Who am I ever?" I ask, too tired to argue. I am neither Anthony or Little Eddie or Edward Sr. So who cares about who I would be if I don't even know who I am?

"There's the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Red Queen…" she continues.

Not the Red Queen. Perhaps a victim of the Red Queen. I lost my head a long, long time ago. The Red Queen stole it and let me run away while she hid in her castle of brown.

No, no, she not only took your mind but stole your heart as well. Then after he went away your soul shriveled up and died, your body just an empty shell with no reason for a soul anyway.

"Why wouldn't Alice speak of Wonderland? Find any white rabbits lately?" I laugh at my own joke even though it isn't funny at all.

The only good thing about Alice is that she laughs at jokes even when they aren't funny.

The worst thing about Alice is that she laughs at everything.

"Oh, no. No white rabbits for me, little vampire man. You're the only Alice in this story."

I'm too tired to be offended. But as she contorts her little body into strange positions with a grin on her face I think it might make sense.

And you'll be the Cheshire Cat disguised as an Alice, giving this poor soulless and empty body riddles that he can never solve.

I prefer the walls and the floors over the bed. No matter how hard I try to sleep in between those white sheets and fluffy pillows it all feels wrong.

In the end I always find myself curled up on the floor, warm air blowing in from my window, lulled to sleep by the incessant ramblings of the girl next door.

The hardwood floor is old but taken care of. I sometimes rub my hands against it to see if I can pull a splinter from even the smoothest of surfaces. I wonder, when I wake, if I'll have splinters in every part of my body.

I never do.

The wall is cold, hard, unforgiving. When I sit against it, all I need to do is drop my head back and feel the concrete surface slam against my head.

I want to see stars. I want to see white.

I never do.

"What a strange way to spend a summer vacation. Cooped up in a room with no one around."

I flinch away from her voice. The side of my head hits the blue wall beside me. My ear rings. Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, dong, dong, dong, ding, ding dong, ding, ding, ding dong, ding dong.

"I leave," I rasp out and swallow. My throat is dry. Was I screaming? Did I sleep? Was I sick? I lick my lips. They sting.

"Oh, yes. You eat."

I nod.

"You feed off your mother. That's what vampires do, you know."

I look up. Her tiny frame is walking along the railing of her balcony. Graceful and delicate. Her body curves unnaturally backwards into a bridge with her body.

I watch as her black shirt rises up. More white skin, so unnaturally pale that it glows in the moonlight. Her ribs poke out of her chest and I flinch and I watch and I will her shirt to continue to rise.

Anthony wants it to rise. Anthony wants to touch the skin and see if it's as cold as it looks.

The ringing continues.

"You're disgusting," is what comes out of my mouth, my voice stronger this time.

She laughs and flings her legs back in the air. Her shirt rises even further and stops. I wonder what could possibly stop the shirt from falling off. She's so small and her chest is so flat that there's practically nothing to keep it in place.

I want to see.

No.

"Disgusting? I see your mother, dear little Edward." Her feet gracefully hit stone floor of her balcony. Her movements are always soft and purposeful.

"There's nothing wrong with my mother." I look away as I say it. My long fingers begin to play with the strands of my hair.

Stop talking. Ignore her. Leave.

"Edwaaaaard."

Alice is in a mood today. There will be no escaping.

There never is.

I want to ignore her. I want to sleep.

Just shut the window.

I can't.

My eyes meet her stormy blues. She smirks. "I've seen your mother. She gets paler by the day. You feed off her, Edward. You should be careful. Soon there will be nothing left."

I remember brown eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know what else to give you, Edward. I just… There's nothing left. I just don't know what to do."

They fall like liquid betrayal down her flushed cheeks.

"I just…God! Where are you? Who are you?"

I blink and look back up at the window.

"Why are you so hungry, Edward?" Sincere. Her voice. Sincere. She rests her elbow on the railing and places her chin in her hand.

I don't know the answer. I don't know what she means.

I never do.

I haven't left the house since we arrived. I've barely left my room.

Alice is right. I sit in my room and I leave for food.

What else can I do?

Anthony is no more. Edward is dead. I am nothing and empty and nowhere.

I walk down the stairs of the summer house, too large for two people. Mother barely leaves either. When I need food my mother intercepts and tries to bring me to the lake or go horseback riding.

"Play the piano, Edward. We used to write such beautiful songs together… Remember?"

She sits across from me at the dining room table. White curtains and white table cloths, with pastel flowers that taint the pure surfaces. Like I do. (Please… I need you.)

"Edward…"

I slam my hands against the table. "Stop calling me that."

She sighs and looks out the window. Her deep green eyes are the color of nature. Of leaves in spring and freshly watered grass, of growth and hope. Mine are the color of disease and death.

I swallow and stare at the pastel curtains.

"I gave you everything."

"It doesn't have to be like this E--, sweetheart. Maybe you should call Isa-."

I slam my hands down on the table even harder and quickly stand. A glass breaks.

Everything breaks eventually.

"I'm just so tired…" I hear a sob behind me. I don't stop. I continue to walk back up the stairs to my bland and blue room. I want to vomit.

My mother is becoming as thin as the girl next door. Her skin has taken on a gray tint. She's tired. Thick black bags sit underneath her eyes.

This is a house of no sleep. The fresh air is suffocating us and yet we can't leave.

But it's not the house that is doing this to my mother.

Vampire boy. Sucking the life out of the women who love you.

Love…

There is no love. No love for the empty and soulless. The sooner they figure it out, the better off they will be.

"Kiss me," I demand from the girl who disgusts me to no end. No attraction exists between us and I can barely acknowledge her physically from the neck up. I think she's pretty but her face makes me cringe. Her body is made of granite that stretches out over bones which poke out through her skin.

I don't care.

I sit next to the window but I don't touch it. I never do.

Alice has never laughed so hard before.

Her body shakes and her arms wrap around her stomach. My hands could fit all the way around her.

"You don't want to kiss me, Edward," she manages to breathe out between bellowing cackles.

What's the big deal about a kiss? Anthony has kissed many. Edward had never kissed anyone until Anthony.

The vodka and pot boys threw easy girls with skirts that were too high and shirts that were too low at Anthony. Anthony was hot, sexy and confident. He shoved his tongue into their mouths and they would battle like snakes over a mouse. His hands would grope and discover, but never any more than that. They were as diseased as he was, there was no reason to go any further.

One tried to shove her dirty hand into his pants and he almost emptied his stomach on her.

There's a preference. A desire. Only one would be allowed to touch me so.

"What else can I give you?"

She was beautiful and pure. A drop of heaven in a sea of purgatory. Once virginal and clean, now defiled by my bottomless need.

Only one. No reason to ravish angelic flesh more than already has been done. Those filthy girls should be nowhere near her innocence any more than he already allowed.

"Oh Edward, why are you so hungry?"

"Please. Stop calling me that." It's weak. I'm weak. Alice won't listen. Alice never does.

Hunger, always hungry. Never enough. Only one can ever fill me. Only one can always leave me at peace and at home and still craving more.

It doesn't matter anymore.

"Vampire boy steals the souls of women. The unimportant with a kiss. Mother with silence. And then the one he consumes, her body and heart and purity and soul, until she can give nothing else."

"No. I am empty." I consume nothing. I retain nothing.

She laughs.

My mother is away. Away for the weekend with her sister and her perfect family. I don't go. Anthony goes nowhere.

They all jump at the chance of a party in the biggest house on the street. Anthony never turns down a party.

I gulp down the liquid poison and inhale the smoke which clouds the mind and helps to forget. A scantily clad devil woman appears and wraps her arms around my neck, digging her stained hands into my hair.

Her tongue snakes out and into my mouth and I try to drink down the alcohol that she's consumed. If I can only forget then I can lose myself in someone more deserving of my throbbing filth.

"Edward?"

Like bells, her voice hits my ears and I frown at the sadness laced within. My brown eyed angel should never be sad. Too beautiful to be sad.

The devil woman laughs and twists her body around. I imagine her head making a 360 and facing back to me. Devils do such things, I hear.

"There is no Edward here, little girl. Now run back to your toys."

"Ding, dong. Ding, dong."

Did I sleep?

"Ding, dong."

I open my eyes and pull my arms away from my head. I lay on the floor in front of the window.

"Can you hear them ringing, Edward?"

No. Yes. Always.

"The bells are ringing, Edward. They're ringing for you."

"Where are you, Edward? Who are you?"

Sometimes I stretch out my hands on a cool, hard surface and close my eyes. I can practically feel the keys beneath my fingers and hear the notes which follow.

Her song is always the first thing that comes to mind. I can hear it as I tap the desk. I can feel it in my bones and in everything I do.

I can always hear it.

"Do you ever sing?"

I shut my lids tightly and dig my palms into my eyes. A moment of quiet, it's all I ever want.

She never gives it to me.

Bells are always ringing and songs are always playing.

"No." I've never tried to sing. The piano always sang to me.

It doesn't matter. Not any more.

I move away from my desk and collapse against the wall, sliding to the floor.

"Your songs have no words, Edward." Is she laughing at me?

I shrug. Plenty of songs have no words. Most of the greats.

Who cares? Your music is gone now.

"But Edward, how do you write a song with no words?"

Is she really asking me this? Is she completely inept when it comes to music?

"I get it; you just have no words…"

No words? I have written sonnets and lyrics and poetry filled with words which devour my mind and choke my senses.

A crash snaps me out of my inner ravings and I look around. My lamp is on the floor and I'm standing in the middle of the room. I look out the window.

There is no disgust or confusion on her face. She watches me expectantly.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

She lifts an eyebrow and grins.

Alice doesn't give answers.

I remember a girl that would take a razor to her arms and legs. She would make tiny cuts, never deep enough to harm but just the right amount to feel. She showed me the marks and I was so close to asking to see them all. To touching and kissing and caressing the beauty of each one, wherever they may lie. We almost went further then what I would usually allow.

Something about them was beautiful to me. Maybe it was her strength.

I was weak.

Once in a while I would try it. I would take one of my razors and push it against my skin.

Never hard enough. I could never push down hard enough. I wanted to push down with all my might until the razor disappeared inside my flesh.

I couldn't even bring myself to make a cut.

I couldn't feel in such a way.

Vampire…

I could only feed on others' pain.

"Hey, Edward?"

I lay on the hardwood floor with my arms stretched out beside me, staring up at the ceiling. I try to ignore her.

"If you could be any type of bird, what would you be?"

I blink.

That actually has me looking at her. "What?"

"Birds, Edward. If you could be any type of bird, which one would you be?"

"A raven. 'And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor. Shall be lifted - nevermore!'" I quote to myself, not caring whether she responds or not.

"How…unoriginal." She seems to have dismissed my comment altogether and begins to hum softly in thought. I slam my head against the floor. My head feels light but still no stars. She continues. "I think you'd make a better…Swan."

My nails dig into the floor as my fingers curl in response to the word—the name.

"Did you know, Edward, that Swans mate for life?"

Yes, I'd heard. I can hear the giggle and can practically see those pearly whites as she tells me about swans. She would have waited for me. She was fine being with me and me alone. My brown eyed angel who deemed me her Romeo and allowed me (Anthony? Eddie? Who?) to take and take because she had found her mate.

"I can see it now. A Beautiful Swan." She knows what she's saying. I can tell by the way she says it.

"No. I'm no swan," I declare because it's true. Because I couldn't be happy with just her. Anthony always needed more and I deserved nothing.

Alice sighs. "You set your goals too low, you know."

Goals? I have none.

"One day, Edward, one day you'll become a Phoenix. That day will be sooner than you think."

From the day that I arrived in my room, the window has always been open.

She is always there.

Today when I wake up, Alice is gone. I move closer to the window, unsure of what I am seeing. No, she's gone. The doors to her balcony are shut and there are green vines twisted and turned all around.

It hits me that I never really had a second thought about her presence. Even during the day when she isn't talking she is always there. Reading a book or just laying down on the rail. Always there.

Today she is gone.

More firsts: a knock on my door. "Ed—honey?"

I cringe at my mother's voice, forever sounding as if it is choking on tears. Maybe it is.

I open the door.

"You have a visitor."

I make a face. Visitor? I know no one here. No one who would come to visit me.

She shrugs and I know she doesn't know the person either. The suspicion in her jade eyes shows that she believes I've been sneaking out.

Why would I bother?

I follow her down the stairs towards the front door. For a moment, I can't breathe.

"Hi, Edward!" Her shrill voice echoes off the walls of the empty home and I swear my mother flinches next to me.

Before us stands Alice in a black dress that hangs loosely on her thin frame and a large black hat sits on her head. The sandals she wears are too large for her feet and altogether she looks like a child.

"Well, thank you for getting him, Mrs. Masen. You have a great day!" She beams at my mother before grabbing my wrist in a vise like grip and pulling me out the door.

"How did you know my last name?" I never told her, just as I never told her my own name other than Anthony.

"She looked like a Mrs. Masen," Alice replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. I guess my mother did look the part of a grieving widow, even if that still explains nothing.

She begins to slow down as we approach a street fair near the local college. Her grip on my wrist weakens but her hand remains. I don't argue.

We continue to walk and become immersed in the world of the fair. Beaded necklaces and bracelets with charms for luck and love and safety. Homemade dolls with eyes that watch you, some made of buttons and some made from glass. Different paintings with the artists sitting bored beside them, waiting for a buyer so they can make the rent this month. Everyone bored and dull. Everyone already giving up.

A ice cream booth sits awkwardly on the side. A large, burly man stands inside, happily helping a group of children who can't figure out what they want. He patiently helps them decide, his smile as bright as the kids around him.

We continue on.

Towards the end of the street fair stands a group of blonde girls. Strawberry, white, straw, and golden blondes with long limbs and perfectly manicured nails. They are the type who would never even bat an eyelash my way. (Maybe for Anthony they would). They have the walk of queens and probably the same amount of money.

None compare to the one. My 'beautiful swan'.

Not yours, not yours, not yours.

The one with the golden blond hair smiles at a tall man with pale eyes who leers her way and wraps his arm tightly, possessively, around her.

We continue to walk.

The buildings around us become older and the sky darkens. The people go from bright and beautiful to dark and grungy.

The boys that Anthony used to hang out with would have come here for pot or, if they were feeling daring, to score something stronger.

A man sits on a stoop next to a small dark haired woman. He has long, greasy blonde hair and his eyes are hollow. Dark bags underneath only seem darker alongside the paleness of his skin and the golden color of his eyes.

The dark woman next to him hangs off his arm but his eyes are on us. They soften when they see Alice before trailing down to where her wrist is grabbing onto mine and I fight the urge to pull away.

He smirks.

We continue to walk.

The woman smirks back at me and in that moment I see an ugly girl in platform heels. I sneer at her and push away. She stumbles and I swear she hisses before running off.

"Edward… What are you doing?"

I turn back to the angel in white and frown. Tears are staining her flushed cheeks, her little hands fisted at her sides.

I move closer and cup her cheek. "Angels don't cry. Don't you know that?"

Fresh tears join the old. I can barely keep myself on my feet any more and lean heavily against her, my forehead hitting hers and my hands leaning against the wall on either side of her head.

"You're the only one who can make me cry this way…"

She's right, of course. Only I could make an angel cry.

"Please…" I whisper, as my fingers slide down the curve of her breasts until they rest at her hips. We've played this game many times before but never in this atmosphere. Never while my mind is so clouded, my mouth so foul, and dirty boys and girls play around us.

Either way, she's never turned me down. From the very first time I came to her she was there, open and willing. Her body so warm and so soft, her comforting hands stroke my hair and caress my body in an attempt to cleanse and fill.

"No."

It's the first time. The last time.

I pull away.

"I can't give you anything else, Edward. I've given you all I have."

We arrive at one of the many abandoned buildings. This one is tall and I wonder why such a tall building is out here, abandoned, and in the middle of nowhere.

Fearlessly, Alice enters and we pass by a series of homeless bodies and junkies who barely flutter an eyelash at us. She takes me farther and farther up never-ending stairs until she gets to the end.

Opening the door, we walk outside.

No one is on the roof.

Alice lets go of my wrist and walks forward. She twirls once, twice, three times before taking off her hat and sitting on the edge of the building. She straddles the raised edge, unafraid as usual.

Stop, I want to say. This is the real world. You can't go straddling and cartwheeling and walking on these edges.

Instead I shove my hands in my pocket and awkwardly stand beside her.

"What are we doing here?" I speak for the first time since we left my house.

"Leaving Wonderland, Edward." She reaches for my hand and for some reason I give it. Her blue eyes stare into mine. Knowing and expecting. Of what?

She pulls on my hand and I walk closer.

She's insane. She wants you to jump.

I shake the thoughts away.

We stand there for what seems like hours. The building is so high up I swear I can feel the clouds and the warm wind is getting more and more violent and I am just so very tired.

I make a decision.

My mother informs me we are leaving for the summer.

A part of me wants to argue but I know I can't.

We load everything into our SUV the next day, not bothering to clean up the house.

The maid will take care of it, my mother keeps saying; this is more important.

I don't much care.

I keep wondering if she will show up to say goodbye. I can barely remember the night before, but I remember the hurt in her eyes as the devil woman clung to my arm and her strong objection as I tried to take her once again.

I shake my head and run my hand through my hair, pulling harshly before letting it fall back to my side.

"You'll go bald."

I whip my head around to the sidewalk and there she is. She smiles at me and I smile back. Neither of us move towards each other.

"I'm going away…" I manage to choke out. "Just for the summer though. Mom insists…"

To my surprise she looks like she might cry. She nods and takes a deep breath.

She smiles. She smiles.

"Come back to me, Edward. Come back."

I stand on the edge of the roof, looking down at the street below. For a moment I feel like Alice.

But I can't fly.

"It's time to make a decision," Alice states with a measure of authority in her voice.

A decision? I'm standing on the roof of a building. One would think that the decision has already been made.

"If you step off this building you will remain in Wonderland forever. Is that what you want? You would truly be Anthony then. Edward will be as dead as you're convinced he is."

Of course Edward is dead. He's been dead for a long time. Anthony is better anyway. It's how I'll be remembered. Not as mousy Little Eddie, but as the courageous Anthony.

"If you truly have no one in your life, Edward, then jump."

No one. Because Edward is dead. And Edward is alone.

Edward has always been alone.

Always alone.

I am the strange Masen boy no one really wants to be around. I go to school, I come home, and I study.

No friends. No inclination either.

My mom goes on and on about how handsome I am but none of that matters when I don't, can't, believe it. I'm tall and lanky and awkward. My hair sticks up everywhere and I can never stop myself from manipulating it all day leaving it a dirty mess.

My mom says all I need is a little confidence.

I have none.

I get hit, I never hit back. An easy target.

Until…

Things always seem to change when the most beautiful girl you've ever seen in all your seventeen years stumbles into your life.

"No one…" I say to myself as the wind blows harder.

Just take the step. It'll all be over soon.

I close my eyes as tight as I can.

"You'll never be popular if you hang out with me, you know."

She laughs and I smile because I can practically feel my heart dance whenever I hear her laugh.

"I've never really cared much for popularity, Edward. I much prefer your company over any of theirs."

We continue to walk to my house and I'm amazed at the idea that this beautiful creature is actually going to come to my house with me.

My mother is thrilled. She bakes for us and makes an extravagant dinner. My father laughs at her excited behavior and at the end of the night they both insist I play for my guest.

Her song is already written by that time. She loves it.

She is my best friend, my beautiful swan.

I can't imagine life without her, ever.

"Do you hear them, Edward? The bells are ringing."

Always ringing.

"They must be ringing for the funeral at the church. Can you see it from here?"

I briefly open my eyes.

Black specks move around in the distance. A long car, a hearse, is sitting in front of the church and I narrow my eyes.

For a moment it is my mother standing outside the church, but I am not next to her. No, I am in the hearse.

He lay in the hospital bed looking frail and grey. It makes no sense.

Too fast. Too soon. Too random.

Edward Anthony Masen, Sr. is not a man who falls easily. He is not a man who dies. Fathers don't die. They aren't supposed to. Not at this time, not so young.

I grab his ice cold hand and he tries to smile but it is more of a grimace.

"Take care of your mother Edward."

Edward? Where is Edward? Edward is in a bed in front of me, dying.

Edward is allowing a disease to eat away at him and rip him from his wife and child. There would be no one to take care of Mother.

Edward is dead.

Then who am I?

The long beep seems to run through my brain and I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound. It's too loud, too much.

I long for the voice of my brown eyed angel.

Her voice is like bells ringing in my ears.

For a moment I understand Alice's obsession with the edge. I lift up my arms and close my eyes and just feel. For once it isn't hard at all.

The wind plays in my hair and rings around my body, lightly tugging and pushing.

Let go, it begs, let go.

For a moment, I think that maybe I can fly.

And then I wonder if I really want to.

I climb the tree effortlessly, having climbed many trees when I was a child.

She opens the window on my second round of tapping; she looks tired and disorientated.

I waste no time.

I slam my lips against hers, pushing my weight against her body so she has no choice but to fall under me on her bed. She gasps and I shove my tongue into her mouth as I try to rip the clothes from her body.

"Please," I beg her. "Please."

Her small hands claw at my clothes as well and we both groan when our bodies are finally free and we touch skin to skin. She wants me and I need her. Badly.

I come prepared because even with all my insecurities I can see that she wants me and that especially tonight she would not turn me away.

The actual act is quick and awkward and for her, painful. I try to go slow but I come quickly and lay on top of her, breathless. I can't stay. Her father is home, so I leave soon after.

I stole her virginity that night and gave her mine in return.

I would continue to go back.

From that point on the window was always open.

I begin to shake as I remember and I clench my hands into fists and squeeze my eyelids tightly together.

"The bells, Edward. Listen to them!"

I begin to hang around guys like Aro and Marcus and Demetri. Guys whose names are as fake as mine. Who used to give me black eyes but welcome me when I start to give them back.

She would constantly try to see me, especially now, in my "time of need", but I never respond.

She would come to me with watery eyes asking if I was OK and what the hell was I doing?

I would walk away, sometimes with my arm wrapped tightly around a nameless waist.

I spend late nights in the woods with alcohol and pot and little pills that make the world turn rainbow and unreal.

Those nights I could see her wings flutter and try to wrap themselves around my body and heal my soul.

And no matter what, her window remained open.

"Edward…"

I whimper. "Bella…"

It hurts to say and I wait for lightning to strike me down dead for even allowing an angel's name to fall from my evil lips.

"Yes, Edward. You hear them… You finally hear them."

"Come back to me, Edward. Come back"

I take a step.

"Take care of your Mother, Edward."

"Hey… hey, kid. Wake up!"

I open my eyes and try to flinch away from the figure in front of me.

I can't move.

I lay down on the roof while the man with the golden eyes kneels in front of me holding on to my forearms.

"You okay?" he asks me and I feel inclined to laugh. Who would have thought that such a scary looking guy would have such a heavy southern accent?

I shake my head and look around. "Alice…"

The man raises an eyebrow at me and takes a placating look around as well. "Just you up here. Sorry, buddy, I'm afraid you're not in Wonderland any more."

He starts to walk away and I quickly stand and follow him. "The girl I came here with…"

The man just shrugs as we make our long descent down the stairs. "I don't remember any girl. Just you."

I don't believe him.

We're at the entrance too quickly and I wonder what happened to the many flights of stairs that Alice had dragged me up to get to the roof.

"Are you sure?" I ask because, really, who am I to argue?

He turns towards me and shrugs again. The look on his face tells me I should stop asking and I'm officially on my own. He walks back to one of the houses where the dark-haired girl from earlier stands with a scowl on her face.

I sigh and make my way to the summer house, to the woman who birthed me, so we could finally go home.

A police cruiser pulls up to my house for the second time within a week. The driver is clearly disappointed and the boy in the back seat looks more bored than anything.

I am the boy in the back seat.

"Look, kid, I know you're going through a lot. OK? I get it."

"Spare me the lecture, Charlie."

Anthony wants nothing to do with small town cops.

The man laughs bitterly.

"Alright, you want to play this game? Fine. For one thing, you will address me with respect, boy."

"Fine. Chief Swan, will you be telling my mother this time?"

The man sighs before taking the time to stare at me in the mirror.

"Don't let this happen to you, Edward. You're a good kid."

I glare. Don't call me that.

He sighs again before his eyes harden towards mine.

"Have it your way then. I don't want to see you near my daughter, you hear me?"

I snicker. Oh, Chief Swan, if only you knew how close I really am to your daughter, every night, and right under your nose.

We exit the car and I prepare myself for the disappointed and tired eyes of my mother.

"Mom!"

I shout the second I step inside the house. She comes running into the foyer confused and worried.

"We have to go home," I blurt out and her eyes widen.

"What? But, honey, we…"

"Mom, please, we have to get home." I grab her arms and hold them tightly, praying she'll agree. Her mouth falls open before she begins to slowly nod.

I smile and bring her in for a quick hug.

I'm met with a fierce embrace.

My mother's shoulders begin to shake and I feel a warm liquid soaking into my t-shirt. Then it hits me:

I haven't voluntarily touched my mother since my father died. Hell, this is probably the most I've spoken to her in months.

My father wanted one last thing from me, to take care of my mother, and how did I do this? By sneaking out and getting put on the shit list by the Chief of Police. She was left to suffer her husband's death in silence while I selfishly took and took.

No more.

I hug her tighter to my chest and this time I don't hold back the tears that have wanted to fall since that last day.

I bury my face into my mother's hair and cry.

Shock. Absolute shock.

Her window.

It's still open.

After all this time.

I assumed it closed that night that I tried to imprint myself on her at that atrocious party with the same hands I used on the devil woman minutes before.

Or is this window open for another? Had she moved on so quickly?

No.

Her window will never be open for Anthony again. She's been waiting for Edward.

I pray that I'm right.

The climb up to her room is easy and familiar and for the first time I start to wonder how in the hell I ever allowed her to leave her window open all this time. Anyone could have come into her room with such easy access.

I would have to stop this ritual. For good. Climbing into a girl's room in the middle of the night in order to ravish her in a sad attempt to cleanse the demons from my body is not healthy or right or fair. If she would have me, this time, I would do this right.

I climb inside and for a moment time stops.

She lies on her bed, stretched out over her covers in a little blue nightgown.

Blue.

Oh, irony.

It feels like it's been an eternity since I last saw her. I feel the familiar desire to bury myself inside her warmth and forget the outside world.

But not yet. Not now.

I sit in a rocking chair next to her bed and just look at her. Her slightly opened lips, the lower one more chapped than the top, from how much she chews on it, I'm sure. Her eyes flutter and I wonder what she's dreaming about.

Not for the first time, I wonder if I'm too late. If maybe she's moved on. If she asks me to leave, I will. I will tell her I am sorry and then walk out of her life forever, if that is what she desires.

I hope it's not. God, I hope it's not.

She shifts and sighs in her sleep and I smile at her childlike movements.

"Edward…"

It can't be...can it?

"Come back…"

Before I can stop myself I'm kneeling at her side. I feel as though I'm kneeling before a goddess in worship.

Hesitantly, I reach my hand across the mattress until it rests on her arm. Instantly, a spark ignites inside my hand and rushes through the rest of my body like fire. I close my eyes and sigh. God, I missed that fire. The fire only she can ignite. I lay my head on her leg and her eyes shoot open at the contact.

OK… what now?

We lay on our stomachs side by side on my bed, doing homework.

Well, she does homework. I watch her. The most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on.

Bella. Isabella. My beautiful swan.

Every part of me craves and desires her. I want to make her mine. I never can.

I think I never can.

But as her eyes lift and meet mine something wonderful occurs. Something amazing. I can see it.

I love you, I hope my eyes say. Please, be mine.

And there it is! Those chocolate eyes hold an emotion that mirrors my own.

Yes, I am yours, always, she smiles. I love you too.

I would regret allowing my eyes to say what I was too afraid to voice out loud.

But how was I to know?

How could I have known that the soft brush of her lips on mine would not only be the first, but the last? That the innocent and hesitant brush of our tongues would become a savage battle in an attempt to dominate and… and what? Accomplish what?

I would kiss her, both of our first kisses, and we would smile and she would turn bright red and so beautiful. I would walk her home and kiss her forehead and then…

And then my father dies.

And I will lose myself completely.

"Can't you see, Edward? I am and have always been yours."

A gentle touch caresses my hair and I fight the urge to moan. My head is pressed against a soft surface, my hand entwined with slender fingers.

"Bella."

I lift my head from her pale thigh and look into those forgiving, sparkling, beautiful eyes. She smiles, she smiles at me. Me!

"Edward," she breathes my name and drops her hand from my hair to caress my cheek. I close my eyes and lean into her touch, savoring every second of it. Without thinking I dip my head and kiss her palm.

"I'm so sorry…" The words come out before I can stop them and I wonder what happened to the speech I had planned. I must have planned something, but whatever it was, I can't remember it.

"It doesn't matter…"

I furiously shake my head at her, wanting so badly to remember what I had planned to say. I don't deserve this quick forgiveness. She passes both of her hands over my face and thumbs wipe away tears I barely knew had begun to fall.

"It wasn't you, Edward. That man wasn't you…"

But it was, it was my face, it was my body, it was my actions! I was the one who used you instead of worshipping you the way you deserved. I was the one who fucked you instead of making love to you.

But I can't say it, I can't say anything. Sobs rack my body and she pulls my head to rest against her breast.

"Let it out, Edward."

I cried so much in my room in that summer house yet I never truly let anything out. Random tears would fall. Nothing like this. With these tears I allow the pain to leave me. Just the beginning, but it is something and it hurts and it feels amazing.

Big boys don't cry…

Yet I cried in my mother's arms just the day before and now here I am at Bella's, sobbing my heart out, soaking her blue nightgown, turning it an even darker blue.

Blue, blue, blue…

There was once a time my favorite color was blue. I loved the way it looked against her skin.

There was once a time when seeing her in this nightgown would be a dream come true.

Who the hell am I kidding? This woman is beautiful. And the nightgown…

Blue is the color of the sky on a sunny day, the color of fresh blueberries, clear ocean water, butterfly wings and the highly appropriate flower forget-me-not.

It is the color of calm, the color of loyalty and faith, the color of light, the color of Bella.

Eventually she shifts so that we both lay on her bed, my head still resting against her breasts and her hands stroking my hair.

We will sleep and I will not let go of her for the rest of the night.

Does Chief Swan check on his daughter in the mornings?

I can't bring myself to care. I will never let go of her again.

I will spend the rest of our days begging her forgiveness, and if she will have me, I will be the kindest, most attentive lover she could ever imagine. If not, and I cringe at the idea, I will politely step aside and kill anyone who dare treats her like anything other than the goddess that she is.

No one will ever make that mistake again.

"I love you, Bella," I whisper into the night, unsure if she will hear.

She does.

"I love you too, Edward. I've missed you."

I pull her tighter to me.

The bells finally stop.

I smile.

A/N: Edward and Bella want their own fic, we'll see. There will be three more chapters to this, each about a different character.

I'm sure you have questions, ask them in your reviews. Please, give your opinions as well. I love them. And go read my birthday present from Sobriquett, L'Heure Bleue. It's beautiful and depressing and absolutely perfect.

Next Chapter: Part Two: Rosalie--Dirty