Edwards POV:

It was night. The stars were bright, the air crisp and clean, smelling of exotic flowers. Nighttime birds throatily sang light

melodies. It was gorgeous night. The thing is I was feeling the exact opposite. I was sitting in a cheap café in Australia,

fending off flirtatious girls when I heard the news from my sister, Rosalie. She had called me, but blocking her thoughts, so I

did not know what was on hr mind. She sounds hesitant, almost sad. I knew what she was going to say before the words

even left her mouth. Bella was dead. I hung up on her. Bella. Dead. I froze. I could barely think. I was never going to see her

again. She was the one thing in my life that had meant something to me. And I had thrown it away. I couldn't forget the last

time I saw her. It was after the Jasper incident on her birthday. I had taken her for a walk in the woods, barely on the trail.

I had told her I didn't want her anymore; that I didn't love her. It hurt her. It hurt me. It hurt that she was so easily swayed,

so believing that she wasn't good enough for me. She was wrong. I wasn't worthy of her love. I saw the pain in her eyes,

the sudden frailness of her frame. I could heart her breathing go shallow, her eyes unfocused, her heart quicken. I wanted

to rush forward. Hug her till the end of the world. Kiss her like we've never kissed before. Tell her I loved her and never

wanted to leave her side. But no. I had had to go. I had corrupted her life enough. If I stayed, her chance at a normal,

happy, and most importantly, human life would be ruined. I wanted that for her so much. I had only wanted to protect her.

But all I had done was destroy her. She went and jumped off a cliff. She had drowned, in the middle of a raging ocean, all

alone. She killed herself. The Bella I had known would have never done that. Or may she would have. Maybe I didn't know

her as much as I claimed. When I called Charlie to confirm if this was true, a boy picked up. It wasn't Charlie. It sounded like

Jacob Black. He sounded calm, yet emotional and sensitive. Maybe he and Bella had been together. At least he had been

able to give her what she deserved. Though, he was a werewolf. So, maybe not. My body flushed with hot anger. Why

couldn't she just pick a normal boy, instead of running to the next monster around? But then anger was replaced quickly

with stifled sadness. I told him I was Carlisle, and asked him where Charlie was. All he did was sneer and spitefully say he

was at a funeral. I had dropped my phone in shock. It was true what Rosalie said. She was dead. And Charlie was at her

funeral. I thought I should go. But no, I couldn't see her body. Broken. Lifeless. To never see her wide eyes, never able to

her beautiful voice again. A crushing wave of grief overtook me. I trembled. The waitress came by my table, asking if I

wanted my coffee cup filled. Distractedly, I thanked her, and she filled it. I emptied it one gulp. I didn't even taste it. I just

couldn't get my mind off Bella. I had told myself from the start. Once I left her, I had told myself to forget her. I had told her,

when she asked if I was going to forget her, that no, I would not, but I would easily get distracted, and move on, and she

should too. I had lied. Everything I had done post Bella had in someway revolved around her. I even bought a CD because it

reminded me of her. Linkin Park. It was the first thing I ever heard Bella listen to. "What I've Done" is the first song she

played. It reflected my situation so perfectly. I did everything that song said. I cleared my life of Bella, uncertain of what I

should do. I really did need to erase myself. I really did forget the pain I caused Bella. She was just a human. I couldn't say

that. I had lied to myself. I had done nothing the song had claimed. I was a liar. She was real. Not just a normal human. I

love her. I love her with all the love I have in me. Shame radiated off my body. Why did I leave her again? It was so idiotic. I

had to keep telling myself why. For her safety. Because I loved her so much. That, I realized, was a feeble reason to leave. I

should have stayed. And now it was too late. I curled into the ball. It hurt too much. People were staring at me. I didn't care

at all. They didn't matter. The only human who had any decent effect on me was the one I could never see again. My

thought wandered to Alice. She had been thinking, knowing I was listening, that Bella was alive, it was a mistake. It was

Charlie's friend, Harry Clearwater that Jacob had been referring to. I know that she thinks I feel terrible now that Bella is

dead. I chuckled darkly. She just wants me to feel better. But wait. What if she wasn't lying? I quickly banished that thought

from my head. Bella was dead. Rosalie and Jacob had confirmed it. What was to be done now? Should I join my family, and

listen to them rant and rave that Bella was still living and breathing? Should I sit here in the café, feeling like a beast and

grieve? I chose the latter. I was shattered. Suddenly, I was in denial. She couldn't be dead. Not at all. This was just a trick. A

cruel, cruel trick played by my family. But, I knew where Rosalie stood. They weren't lying. Bella was dead. Dead. That word

didn't seem real to me. I couldn't die. None of the Cullens really could. So that word was merely never spoken between me

and my family, except when Carlisle discussed his patients. I gripped the handle of my empty coffee cup. I had known may

people who had died. But none I felt so close to. Not even my mother, Elizabeth Masen. I accidently shattered the cup into

shards. Good thing no one was looking. I uncurled, and sat up straight. My head swam. I shook it. I had to get a grip on

myself. I was unsuccessful. For once, I was ungraceful. I stumbled out of my seat, right on top of my waitress, asking if I

wanted another cup of coffee. Saying yes, I downed another cup. She filled it right up again. I stared at my reflection. My

messy bronze hair, pale skin, and once green, now topaz eyes stared back. I was disgusted. I gulped that cup of coffee right

there. I never drank coffee. But being in this distressing state for the last several months, it had become a steadfast habit. I

thought of Carlisle, how being a doctor, how he saw death everyday. To get to know a patient, to talk with them. To laugh

with them. To console them. And them, bam! They died. Carlisle was brave. I would never have the guts or daresay, heart,

to deal with it. I had killed several, but none I had known personally, or any that I detested. I thought of Esme. She would

be like me, broken. She would be strong, and not show it. I was weak. The damage I had given to her are beyond words. I

am a monster. I shouldn't deserve to live. Bella. My Bella. Dead. It hurts to live. I felt lost, alone, spinning through a cloudy

abyss of grief and shame. I sunk down in the café chair, and wept, shedding tears for the first time since my transformation.

I knew what I would have to do. I would have to go to Volterra. I would talk with the Volturi. I would expose them. How I

would do that, I was not sure. I would decide that later. Making me, Edward Cullen, definitely, a dead vampire. Truly, truly

dead. I got up. I had no choice. I would take the next plane out of here. It didn't leave for another three hours. But for now,

all I could do was run. So I did just that.