WARNING: A lot of swearing, blood, and a badass Bella.

"Whatever is done for, Love always occurs beyond good and evil" - Friedrich Nietzsche.

"Where the fuck is it?" I growled, holding a knife against his throat.

"I- I don't know what you're on about." He stuttered. Sure he didn't, the bastard.

"The pin to the safe, you son of a bitch." I spat, pressing the knife to his throat, causing crimson red droplets to trickle down his neck, staining my nine-hundred dollar shoes. My money doesn't grow on trees you fucknut.

"I- I can't remember!" He cried, panic blanketed his sputtered voice. Course he didn't remember, the bitch.

"Well let me help you remember, refresh your memory a little," I offered casually. I began pressing the knife harder, against his pressure point this time, deepening the wound which began to spurt out like perspiration.

My mind was fucked, and I liked it.

"No, please! -" He pleaded, struggling like psycho getting locked up in a mental home.

This was always the worst part. The look of terror before they got murdered.

I began to count down, increasing my pitch each time, digging the knife deeper and deeper until..

"7 1 8 3! 7 1 8 3! Please don't do this!" He shrieked, shaking his head rapidly as sweat droplets mixed with his splattered blood.

Well, too fucking bad, pal. You took too long. And with one swift move, he dropped to the floor like a sack of shit. I stepped back, being more cautious of not getting more blood on my heels. They were ruined already, and I wasn't happy.

"Move it." I ordered, pointing my finger - with a perfectly painted red nail on the end – towards the limp body.

Jasper rushed to the body, picked it up and carried it to the car to put it in the body bag. To be delivered to the trash site, out of my sight.

I reached for a cigarette out of my back pocket and lit it, shoving it in my mouth and puffing out irregular sized smoke rings.

I had already taken care of his friends.

Just to prove a point to people who I might have left out or who wishes to confront me in the near future.

I was the Willy Wonka to candy.

I was Bella fucking Cullen.

People know who I am, and what I do; and if they don't, they figure it out pretty damn quickly.

But then it would be too late.

"I need extra doctors here!" I called frantically as I threw a breathing mask over the victims mouth who was choking on his own air.

Doctors scurried over, approximately 3 of them to aid this poor stab wound victim.

I backed away from the scene, monitoring the life-support machine which bleeped in flow with his weak, beating heart.

I wasn't afraid of how it would turn out. I was used to death. But then again, there's always a chance of surviving.

"Dr. Cullen! We're loosing him!"

"Dr. Cullen!"

I sighed frustratingly as I cursed under my breath. Cries of my name echoed throughout the impacted room, boiling my blood until I reached boil-over point.

"Move out of the way!" I demanded, shoving each doctor which was stood in my path until I finally reached the patients bed, examining his wound once again. The cogs in my mind began to turn briskly as I figured out what he needed.

"Stitches! Get me fucking thread and needles instead of standing there like gormless douche-bags!" I shot a glare at the doctors as they hurried off in different directions.

A few seconds later, they were in my hand, and my work had begun.

Stitch after stitch, the less blood spilled out, the higher his chances of surviving.

Sweat droplets formed as they drooled down my face, eventually dripping off the end of my nose. I always felt like I was a movie star when I attempted to save people's lives. It felt like an achievement, like it was a born legacy for me. I loved it, and I'll do it till the last breath I draw.

Without my realization, I had finished the stitches, and my hands were covered in patches of crimson.

"He needs a blood transplant as soon as possible... Now!" I growled before yanking my gloves off and tossing them in the bin. "My job is done."

And with that, I was out of the room, making my way home to my wife.

I am a doctor. I am a husband and I saved lives.

I am Edward Cullen.

"Hi honey! How was work?" I asked as I kicked my blood-stained heels off, hiding them away from him. I pecked his cheek softly.

"Same old. Saved another life today. You?" He chucked as he continued chopping onions on the cutting board.

"Oh sweetie! That's great!" I fake-smiled, shivering at the life I took which happened just a few hours ago. "We had a lot of customers today, really good sales."

Edward thinks that I'm a sales assistant at a store about 10 miles away. I hate lying to him, but he obviously wouldn't approve of my actual career.

Killing wasn't entirely attractive.

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Love y'all.