"Mentalward Contest"

Pen name: birobird93

Title: Entity

Summary: Three friends. Three guys. All in the same body. Sinister and blood-thirsty murderers prowling the streets of Chicago, one at a time. "Evil prowls the shadows in this city at night Miss Swan. You will be wise to avoid it...not ask to see it again."

Word Count: 9286

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight: Just this fucked up version of Edward/Mentalward.

A/N: Hello my favourite people. This isn't my usually genre of story. I don't usually do dark Edward's. However, I just couldn't resist. I wanted to try ;D cause you know, well, a dark Edward just can't be beat. Anywho, I apologise in advance to anyone who reads this and does not like the dark shit. This is for the mentalward contest. Crazy fics about a crazy Edward.

READ AND REVIEW! AND VOTE! GO TO THE MENTALWARD CONTEST SITE ON FANFIC WHEN YOU'RE READY. VOTING STARTS ON THE 16TH of Dec.

THIS IS MY WARNING TO YOU!

THIS STORY CONTAINS DARK THEMES: Prostitution, sex, crime, drugs, murder, violence. Explicit shit.

So, if you can't handle it, then please, DO NOT read!

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it :)

"So, you're a schizo?" she asked, glancing up at me from under her eyelashes.

I sighed frustratingly. This bitch sure had shit for brains. Typical dumb fuck, slut-incarnate, inbred... I scratched my forehead with my thumb nail as I held my cigarette, lines of smoke rising from the ashy tip. I took another drag, shaking my head at the broad that stood before me, leaning against the brick wall with one hand, her other at her hip.

I glared at her plastic nails—those fuckers were lethal when used correctly. I often had scratches all over my fucking face because of that fucking invention. Whatever vain bitch created those fucking things ought to rot in hell, or at least my basement.

"No," I began through my teeth.

I exhaled the remnants of the smoke.

"Not a fucking schizo, you stupid ho." I growled.

She was worse than anyone else. They thought they knew—there was a fucking difference between a multiple personality disorder and schizophrenia. They weren't the same fucking thing.

"It's called D.I.D., cunt stain." I quipped, flicking the butt onto the pavement.

I scratched at my day-old stubble, grimacing and turning my entire body to the tart who wanted entrance to Edward-land. Denied, bitch. She wasn't something I would usually go for. Nor would Anthony, maybe Cullen—but he had fucked up standards when it came to getting pussy. It's like he craved the below-average. Whatever, as long as I don't remember it—I couldn't give a fuck. My alter egos usually came out through periods induced by stress or severe fucking anger episodes. Sometimes they decided to materialise for no reason than vaporise back into the deep recess of my brain just as quickly as they appeared. This bitch was trying my patience. I hoped, for her sake, that Anthony didn't make an appearance. I was fucked up to begin with, but to have someone worse than me—in my own body—was beyond imaginable.

"What does it stand for?" she asked in a baby-like, vomit inducing tone. She twirled a lock of her blonde hair around her finger. It was platinum blonde and dry.

Like she had been sleeping with her head in a tub of peroxide. It was dead and not something I wanted to touch. I had a weird obsession with hair, too. I had to admit, her tits were nice to look at. I found myself letting my eyes wander down to them, easier to look at while I ignored her words. Her hips were a little too wide; her legs were alright in comparison to the stumps of flesh I had come across recently in the slums of Chicago.

"It stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder," I said, feeling bored with this whore already.

I also didn't feel up to trading medical histories with the skank, either.

Her camel toe wasn't exactly inviting—nor was the possibility of a yeast infection. No thanks. Her brow came together over her green eyes and I felt like beating her across the face with a crowbar, but there were a few cops trawling the streets tonight and I didn't want to seem too conspicuous. I was sure to be fucking hauled in if they caught me bludgeoning this cock monger to a bloody pulp. The thought of her blood was making me hard. I needed something to fuck, and soon. I preferred to go to night spots and get my fair share of wanton pussy, not have it crawling up to me on the street corner in the form of this dried up, loose tramp.

"So, what does that mean?" she enquired further, cocking her head to the side.

I rolled my eyes.

"I only told you because I thought I'd be humane for once and let a bitch know what they're getting into before I fuck them." She frowned again and shrugged, waiting for me to continue.

I pulled my packet of cigarettes out and lit up another, pocketing them in my leather jacket and crossing my legs at the ankles, watching the sun go down behind the brick buildings. The orange glow slid down the sky scrapers, reflecting a malevolent, polluted, clouded horizon. Little did the hopeless street folk know—the horrors nightfall could bring. In the absence of light, there was darkness. However, some people liked the dark, found it magical and romantic. Well, they just didn't know fuckers like me prowled the streets of Chicago at night.

So, they should be devastated when the sun goes down, casting their last look at safety and shelter before all the evil comes out to play. I sucked on the filter for a moment, squinting at the whore who would not give up asking questions about me until she got to gobble some part of my anatomy. I sighed.

"It means I have multiple personalities." Her eyes widened and she fucking smiled. She fucking smiled. I frowned and narrowed my eyes. Her smile faltered.

"That sounds so cool!" she exclaimed.

I leaned forward and decided now was the best time to teach the bitch a lesson.

Extending my left hand and fisting it, bringing it down, flush with her right cheek, the most beautiful crunching noise reverberated through the alley. I felt myself smiling as she shrieked in pain, clutching at her purple, swollen face. I basked in the agony. She was sobbing and choking back curses. If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn't even try to utter a simple, 'fuck'. Not unless she wanted Anthony out to play. That game wouldn't end so fucking well.

"Relax, and shut the fuck up." I hissed, putting the cigarette back between my lips.

She gasped, making strangled noises. I sighed and waited for her to calm the fuck down. She sure looked like a hooker; I thought she'd be used to a pimp hand. Maybe her pimp was against violence. What a pussy whipped, cunt jockey. I'd be happy to do it for him—whoever the fucker was. I enjoyed it. But no more than Anthony. It was funny, thinking back on all the diagnostic tests I went through. Well, not just me, but the other two as well. One doctor thought I was just Anthony, sadistic, fucked in the head... Well, his terms were borderline, antisocial narcissist. It was all the same shit. And, well, Anthony didn't take too kindly to anyone labelling him. Doctor Gerandy was reported missing a few days after their session. Come to think of it, Anthony didn't like anyone doing anything. He'd disembowel someone if they blinked in his direction. Whereas I, Edward, I wasn't that heavy. Sure, the violence was my forte, but if a kid spilled his grape juice on me, he'd live to see his family at dinner. Anthony would have had him slung up on the monkey bars, his freshly scalped head bleeding over the grass.

"What's your name?" I asked, stubbing my cigarette out.

The bitch coughed some blood spots onto the back of her hand, wiping at her throbbing red lip and cheek before replying. It sounded like her mouth was full.

"Tanya," It was barely comprehensible.

I sighed and decided she wouldn't be worth it. Not a walking truck-stop bathroom like her.

"Well, Tanya. You're gonna have to find another prick to blow. You're not my type," I pushed off the wall, stuffing both my hands in my pockets before I took off down the dimming street.

I heard her wail and squeal in frustration. I laughed quietly to myself. She didn't know how fucking lucky she really was. She should be acting as if she won the lottery—not having any idea how closely she came to being fucked with by me. Any of my past conquests, would have sold their left arm to keep me away from them. I glanced over at the smoggy sunset again—it tipped below the horizon, throwing a blanket of gloom over the city.

Time's up, Chicago.

I had no other intentions tonight than to get fucked up—abandoning all sense of self-preservation and dignity. I was in need for something strong with limited time needed for it to take effect. I also needed to wet my cock—the local brothels seemed like the best bet so far. The night life—all unsuspecting, sheep-like consumers. They all wanted to be 'unique'. I snorted at their superficial attempts of individuality. Everyone I saw, from where I lurked in the shadows, were all the same. They say they wanted a dirty fuck from a complete stranger, they say they wanted their next fucking hit; they say they fucking wanted to detach themselves from mainstream society. Amateurs. What they wanted was to be legendary, but at the same time, they were too fucking scared to do anything other than book into a cheap, scummy brothel under an anonymous name then hit up the closest drug dealers in the fucking back alley, all the while keeping a look out for people who might see.

It's because everybody was a pussy—and they called themselves fucking rebellious.

I, however, lived a little differently. My name is known throughout the densely populated street life in this city. I was a fucking entity, someone everyone knew of or heard about. But sometimes the story was skewed, some people only knew about Anthony, some only about Cullen.

I tried keeping my cock in my pants after spotting a group of whores trawling down the street, their sequined outfits glittering under the incandescent moonlight. The grimy road signs indicated I was close to Leah's house.

She'd known me for the few months I'd been here—keeping my habits fulfilled. She was my dealer, and Anthony's...and Cullen's. And, if I had no other choice, she was gracious and desperate enough for cash that she'd satiate my fuck-hunger too.

Not that she was a fucking model—but I was able to get it up around her.

I pulled out my packet of cigarettes from my jacket again, pulling one out with my teeth before flipping my lighter open.

I sucked on it, savouring the taste on my tongue and the soothing sensation as it burned down my throat. That reminded me—I needed some fucking hard liquor.

I decided to make my move then, slowly stalking my prey.

My feet moved lithely through the artificially light bathed sidewalk. The group of whores were whistling and calling to cars as they passed. I sauntered closer to the one I had chosen. They were all average looking—none held any real, innate beauty, they were hookers, after all.

You'd have to hit the fucking jackpot to get a decent looking prostitute unless you went to the real expensive establishments. Since I had no money, I wouldn't even get past the fucking front door. I needed to get the bitches alone—then I'd get my way. Besides, well done up places always have the fucking security.

I flicked the butt to the side, lines of smoke spiralling past my head.

I imagined what the bitches would have seen me as. Dark and mysterious. A fucking cliché, it's what all the chicks looked for. Luckily, I had that kind of appeal.

And I that's all I needed, really.

Just the bait—the rest was irrelevant. I wouldn't need them to like me after I had them secured.

It'd be too late for awkward fucking pleasantries. I stopped behind the bitch, inhaling the moist air as it barrelled in between the buildings, rewarding me with a taste of what was to come. This one smelled distinctly of vanilla. I breathed it in, humming in satisfaction.

I'd smell this scent for days, relishing in how it permeated around me as I slit her delicate throat. I smiled, opening my eyes before making my final approach.

"Hey, baby," two of them chime in at the same instant. They exchanged looks at each other, challenging for which one would get to fuck me.

I shook my head and motioned with my chin to the smaller one I stood nearest to.

"This one," I murmured.

They all visibly fucking came in their panties as I spoke.

I smirked as they handed her over to me.

"I'm Jessica, baby." She purred, a small saucy smile planted on her lips.

She wasn't as attractive close-up, but she would do. I wasn't going to wait around forever to pound some pussy. I nodded in appreciation as I appraised her form. I grasped her hand and led her away.

"You have a car, baby?" she enquired smoothly, still maintaining her seductive facade.

Not for long, sweet heart.

I shook my head 'no' before tightening my hold on her wrist until she shrieked in protest.

"Baby, you're hurting me. Can we get some privacy so I can give you what you want?" she suggested, her voice quavering slightly as she realised I wasn't the average customer.

I turned the corner at the end of the street, searching for Leah's building. She wouldn't mind if I got this over with at her place. Hell, maybe she'd even fucking join in.

I smiled broadly over my shoulder at the whore who returned a somewhat reserved supplement. I smirked and held onto her tighter, worried she might change her mind and try to escape.

I planned on fucking her crazy first, giving her a lasting memory as I removed the light from her eyes, the beating of her heart. My victims always started out as willing. I could hardly blame them for living promiscuously—it was exactly what I did. What we did. It was a typical human desire that lead them to their demise. I could feel Anthony and Cullen rearing up in anticipation for tonight. They were just as fucking excited as I was. I hope I did them proud.

You've done beautifully, Anthony commended.

I smiled wider, nearing Leah's front steps. We were in the lower-class district, after this, I may want to travel to the upper-level classes, try out some of the pussy there. At least they wouldn't be rancid, disease ridden muffs.

Keep some for me, Edward. Don't tear the whore up too much. Cullen chuckled.

I wondered absently, which of them would be next to take over my body. It didn't really matter though; I usually wake up not remembering a thing, retrograde amnesia. It was a fucking bitch to deal with sometimes, especially if I fucking came to whilst I had my dick buried in some random bitch I had never even seen before. I had no control over when I would transition into complete fucking unconsciousness whilst my other two alter-egos take all fucking control. I occasionally got angry with them, throwing me into unfamiliar situations without a fucking warning. But the life I lived was one that I wouldn't give up for the fucking world, no matter how fucked up it was to the commoner's eye.

I felt my cock strain hard against my jeans as I buzzed at Leah's door. She didn't answer. I tried again. The slut still wouldn't fucking let me up so I decided to invite myself in. She had left the mother fucking door unlocked anyway. If she didn't want people squatting, then she should fucking lock her doors. I was too horny to worry about Leah being pissed. I towed Jess upstairs, through the dingy wooden palace that was Leah Clearwater's apartment. I noticed vaguely that things had been straightened up a little, she actually had furniture—she must have been doing well in this fucking business. The crack heads always were crazy for their ix during this time of the year. It must be the weather, or maybe luck on her part.

I threw open the front door, pulling the bitch inside, she stumbled forward, tripping over her feet and landing on the hard wood floors. I closed the door behind me and locked it. I picked her up off of the floor, not bothering with the niceties. It was fucking play time.

I found Leah's bedroom, the bitch had decorated.

The walls were painted a creamy white; she had a bed, a giant wooden bed frame, thick sturdy wood. It would be helpful for what I was going to do. There was a thick black comforter thrown over the mattress, throw pillows dotted the bed, and the sheets were black satin.

I kicked my shoes off as I closed and locked the door, motioning for the whore to do the same. She complied, already growing wary of me.

She unfastened her heels and placed them by the nightstand. She didn't bother speaking anymore, obviously noticing that I wouldn't fucking answer. She was just as dull as the rest of them.

I began to doubt there was anything magnificent in the world anymore.

I ached for that perfect kill. But instead, had to settle.

I guess it was better than nothing.

I grabbed her shoulders harshly, throwing her down on the bed. She huffed out a breath in surprise, her eyes growing wide and frightened. Did she sense danger near?

I chuckled in amusement as I pressed my body down on top of hers. I licked my tongue under her chin, tracing my tongue down the column of her throat. She was bitter.

I screwed up my face before lifting myself off of her to remove my clothes. I would just have to imagine something sweeter.

Anthony and Cullen both growled with lust inside my head. The egged me on, begging me to end her cruelly—they took as much pleasure out of it as I did, if not more.

I promised them.

I pulled my jeans down and folded them neatly by the bottom corner post on the bed frame. I did the same with my shirt and then my boxers until I was fully naked. I then proceeded to tear the clothes off of the whore's body. She was growing more frantic; a light coating of perspiration covered her chest. She was scared.

Her lip began to tremble. I chuckled devilishly, lavishing in her fear. It was my fucking bread and butter. She slowly began to struggle.

"Baby, slow down!" she objected breathlessly.

Her pleas turned to shrieks which I smothered with my hand.

"Behave," I growled. Tears welled up in her eyes.

I smiled in triumph, placing my hardened cock before her over-used hole.

She was breathing hard against my hand, gasping in her precious last breaths. Only I knew they were numbered.

Once she had stopped struggling and ceased her shrieks, I took my hand from her mouth, bringing her legs around my hips to gain a better angle to her pussy.

She whimpered quietly as I slowly slid my dick inside her warmth.

It was plain, ordinary.

But it was enough.

I started rocking my hips back and forth, thrusting harder into her core. She was getting into it, enjoying my cock inside her.

It wouldn't be pleasurable for too long.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair, snapping her head back. She gasped in pain, her eyes bugging out. I pulled her body more upright, ramming more ruthlessly. She groaned, biting her lip and digging her fucking French manicured nails. I hated those fucking things. Maybe Anthony would enjoy extracting them from her fingers forcefully. That's if it was him that took over from me.

I took relish in the pre-act as well, my body tensing, gaining momentum as I was about to cum.

The whore moaned and wailed, reaching her own climax before me. How rude of her.

I palmed her breasts, taking one in my mouth before biting down hard. She shrieked but I continued with my plight.

I was breathing raggedly, reaching a peak. I growled out loud, closing my eyes and hissing out between my clenched teeth. My cum spurted, but remained within the condom I had applied earlier. I wasn't about to spoil my streak and risk fucking everything up for the three of us because I was too fucked up to remember not to spill any of my own—identifiable because of my stay in various mental facilities—DNA.

We breathed out heavily in unison.

Suddenly, I felt my body begin to detach from my mind.

I groaned in frustration, it was fucking happening. Well, I hoped Anthony or Cullen had a good fucking time with the bitch I had chosen out for us. They'd be the ones who basked in the ambience of death.

I just kept it company.

I awoke in a pool of sweat and blood.

I sighed. They'd had all the fucking fun without me.

It was already daylight and I was still in Leah's house. I sat up slowly, taking in my surroundings now that there was a natural light in the apartment. I glanced to my side; the whore was no-where to be seen. I looked down at myself—realising I was clothed.

Well, you filthy fuckers actually decided to clean up after yourselves for once. I said internally, grateful that I didn't have to carry the burden again.

It was a real pain in my ass to dispose of corpses, especially ones I hadn't even had a chance to play with.

You're welcome, Ed. Anthony's smooth voice murmured through my conscious.

You shouldn't be too down, dick wad; I didn't get any action, either. Cullen sneered, dejected.

I rolled my eyes.

Haven't had your periods yet, Cullen? I asked mockingly.

He growled deafeningly. It only made me laugh fucking harder. I pulled on my jacket, untouched from the congealed blood, spotless and clean

My shirt, however, wasn't as inconspicuous. I had blood smeared over the front; I would have to zip the jacket up today.

I strolled out into the living room of Leah's apartment, taking in everything now that it was daylight and I had satiated my hunger for death the previous night. I wasn't distracted.

I curiously glanced into Leah's closet and found some of my spare clothes. I frowned. I didn't fucking remember putting them there...

I smiled to myself, mentally thanking Anthony or Cullen. Whichever had enough brains to do what I didn't even fucking think of.

I grabbed some clothes and a towel, heading to the bathroom. Leah wouldn't mind, that's if she was alive. Most drug dealers had a short life expectancy. It was probably safe to assume she'd been ripping customers—judging by all her new stuff—and gotten clipped for it. It should fucking serve her right. Although I couldn't help but feel a little pissed. I mean, where was I going to get my junk now?

I sighed, frustrated. I dropped my clothes by the bathroom door, turning on the faucets and stepping into the stream of steaming water.

I would hunt again tonight. This time, I would aim higher. Last night's events told me I was growing bored with the same old menu of whores. I wanted something fresh. Something with a sweeter after taste, an experience of woman that wouldn't leave me wanting to shower. I wanted something...pristine. Ironically, I was about to search for someone 'unique', after having deduced that there was no such thing left in this fucking world.

Surely, there'd at least be someone in Chicago?

It was decided. I let the heated spray relax my muscles, aching from lifting that bitch down the flights of stairs last night. I guess I had the advantage of not having to do the actually lifting, just living with the consequences afterwards.

I cleaned up and got dressed in my crisp clothes. A grey button down, sleeves rolled up, jeans and of course, my jacket. I took the time for another smoke, instead of heading downstairs, I went further up. To my delight, it was already late afternoon. The sun was going down once again. I was wondering if I'd ever see a sunrise again—not that it bothered me not to. I was content with the darkness.

I lit it up, heaving the nicotine goodness into my lungs, staring over the edge of the building's roof. I watched over the distant sky scrapers and apartment lofts—the sight was truly breath taking. I found myself standing there for over an hour, letting my cigarette burn out completely before taking a second drag.

I stubbed it out against the concrete wall, stepping back inside the door and trotting dutifully down the stairs into Leah's apartment. It was already dusk, and she had not returned. Obsessive compulsive, far from impulsive Leah was not home yet? Then she was surely face-down in a gutter somewhere. I decided to put her place to good use. That was what friends were for right?

I smiled, happy with my new acquisition as I sauntered back on the streets, ready for another round of hide and seek.

Going to the wealthy district took a while; the rich people wouldn't be caught dead inside the slums. They wanted to be as far out of reach as possible, probably because of people like me. They may have been shitting diamonds but they were also some dumb fuckers too. They didn't understand that crime can move, that evil can migrate.

So, because of their insecurity, brought about by typical fear mongering among the media—although what anyone has heard about me is true—they lived a fucking long way away from where I was. But I had a purpose, one that would leave me insane—more so than I already am—until I achieved what I wanted.

I was a single-minded person, I was also impatient. I got what I wanted the second I wanted it. There had been far denser people in the past that tested this—I guess they eventually figured it out.

I snickered to myself, gaining a few uncomfortable stares from passersby.

I shrugged it off.

Who the fuck cared anyway? I wasn't here to impress anyone or live for anyone else but myself. I listened to two other elements—Anthony and Cullen.

I was shuffling my feet down the sidewalk with my hands stuffed inside my pockets. It was mid-spring, so it wasn't too cold, quite humid, actually.

I spread my search out wide, awaiting the appearance of my next target. Sometimes I could pick one from the middle of a crowd, as if their body called to me. Stupid, naive, small-minded cunts. After so long, you'd think the human race would develop a better sense of self-preservation, or survival instinct. I knew that some people still had it—a few women I had sought out had avoided me and I had been in a gracious enough mood to let them go. Subconscious or conscious, they still knew to keep a distance. However, it was only a select few; the majority were so dense it was almost suicidal.

I pitied their lives—all unexceptional.

I gradually blended in with a throng of people—most likely just gotten off of work. I glanced in every direction, scanning for something...someone...

I sighed in disappointment.

There was a woman, blonde and tall. She had deep blue eyes, sparkling with positivity and innocence. A hint of superficialness clouded her expression, though. I disregarded her general appeal. I wanted something exceptional, something beyond normal.

Another woman caught my eye. She was short and petite, a nice complexion and short spiky black hair.

She was standing with her handbag slung over her shoulder, her red lips pursed as she watched the traffic slowly dissipate before crossing the road. I let my eyes follow her...could she be the one...? I began the hunt, stalking her tiny frame, almost child-like as she neared the outskirts of the busiest part of Chicago.

An aura of energy exuded from her presence. I hummed to myself; this one might just be...

Then, all intentions of my pursuit were cut short when my eyes fell upon something of genuine purchase.

A sly grin spread over my face.

She was exquisite. Creamy skin. Pale but not unhealthy. Her hair, hanging in long, chestnut brown curls down to the middle of her back. She was walking with purpose on the opposite side of the road. My previous admiration forgotten, speeding down the street in her designer shoes, unaware of how closely she had averted death tonight.

I could not say the same for this girl, however.

She would have to have the worst luck imaginable.

My stomach churned, leaving me anxious. I needed her. I would feel her, immediately.

She was dressed in a deep blue blouse and a tight pencil skirt that went down to her knees. She has a light cardigan over the top...pure, simple beauty.

I felt the blood rush to my cock at the mere sight of her. I was paused in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at this woman who remained oblivious to my planned contingencies.

She is magnificent, Anthony breathed, exultant at the thought of receiving a taste...

Absolutely. Cullen agreed.

Do us proud, Edward. She will be unforgettable.

I nodded, but couldn't suppress a peculiar feeling that began to emanate from within my cold heart. I watched my prey; she was delicate, fragile...definitely out of the ordinary. I licked my lips in anticipation. The night was drawing close, the sun almost completely out of sight. I was so close to getting her. My breathing sped and my heart rate doubled. My palms began to sweat and I was near having a fucking panic attack. She took no notice of me as her form disappeared around the dark corner.

I snapped out of my reverie, my steps fast and agile. I missed the kerb, tripping up slightly. I frowned to myself but continued. That was fucking weird. I was always so vigilant, so fucking aware of my surroundings. I was just extremely focussed at the moment.

I rounded the corner, my eyes found her slender back—the street was scarce. The last person in sight had just disappeared and would soon be out of ear-shot.

I would make my move then.

My feet were fast but accurate in their judgment of space. I was fast enough to keep up, but not loud enough to be detected.

She wrapped her arms around herself; she was growing cold from the gradual drop in temperature. Without the heat of the sun, she had hardly any body fat to sheath her from the elements.

Her body was slender, but she was short. Against me, she would only come up to my chest, under my shoulders.

I could over-power her easily, even if she was adept in self-defence. I would have the upper hand, the added advantage of strength and the element of surprise. Capturing her would be easy—I would not have to hurt her exceptionally if she struggled. I could simply carry her away, or knock her out first.

Either way, her body would be unspoiled when I took her.

I sauntered up behind her, my feet slowly getting closer to her own footsteps.

We were nearing the mouth of an alleyway. It was perfect timing. I took the necessary three steps until I could reach her. This extra sound made her aware of my presence. She gasped but before having the chance of swivelling around, my arm twined around her waist. I grasped at her body, pulling her into the dark corridor between the buildings and pinning her against the grimy bricks.

Her wide-set eyes were even more excruciatingly superb. Molten chocolate. I groaned out loud.

She didn't attempt escape; she made not even the slightest noise. I was lost in wonder. What an unusual creature.

"Your name," I whispered, closing my eyes.

I had to test her scent, the scent that would stick to my skin and cling to my clothes for the next few days. However, I couldn't help but wish it would be for longer.

I inhaled.

Glorious.

Strawberries: floral and sweet. Something different. It was mouth-watering. It was marvellous. I tried branding everything about this woman inside my brain.

Both Anthony and Cullen basked in her scent; my brain was swimming in it.

"Bella Swan." She responded in a small voice; spoke not with terror but with trust and conviction.

I perked an incredulous eyebrow. She must still be in shock. I supposed she wouldn't be so cordial soon. She must be an optimist. I pressed her harder against the wall, my arousal protruding from the constraints of my jeans.

Bella looked shocked for a split second, her eyes falling between us to my hardened cock. Her lip trembled and her bewildered eyes held a lively spark, one I could not decipher.

I grabbed her arms, and held them above her head. The whole time I stayed gentle with her.

How uncharacteristic of you, Edward. Cullen sneered.

I found myself growing fucking agitated. It was highly unlike me to be gentle, or even care what the bitch's name was. I was, however, always loyal to Cullen and Anthony, my two best friends, my family. The two other thirds of my mind.

But for some reason...I couldn't.

I shook my head distractedly before getting back to my task. Bella.

I smirked down at her trembling frame, so tiny against my body. I held both her wrists in my one hand before trailing the other down the length of her arm. She shivered, her eyes never leaving mine. She must have been terrified. Her chest began heaving, her breathing laboured. My eyes fell to her tits, perfect, supple, perky. I sucked my lip between my teeth and moaned, my dick growing impossibly harder.

My hand slowly grazed down her arm, to the top of her head, curling though her soft hair. It was natural, not fake and brittle. I was going to claim this as mine. I fisted my hand in her tresses, pulling her face roughly to mine. I kissed her slowly, it slowly built into something heated, passionate.

I could barely breath, but I couldn't fucking care. Her lips, they were so soft, warm and sweet. I removed the restraint of my other hand, unintentionally bringing it down to cup her face.

I was losing track. I needed to regain some perspective. What was I here for?

The kill.

I let my tongue slide into her mouth. She surprised me with a low, throaty moan. I panted; my cock ached to be buried inside her.

My right hand travelled down her shoulder to her chest. I pulled her sweater off, the tips of my fingers tracing the supple banquet of skin it encountered.

What the fuck are you doing?! Anthony scolded.

I flinched but kept going. This was wrong—where was I? More to the point, who was I?

Had I gained another identity, one that was soft and gentle, one that caressed his victims instead of brutalising them. I felt my soul, my consciousness grow further detached from my other identities.

What the fuck was going on?

Kill the fucking bitch! She's expendable. A whore!

I growled into Bella's mouth. She reacted—not in the way I expected. Her body arched off of the wall, rubbing against mine, creating friction and heat.

My eyes rolled back in my head.

Just, give me a minute! I begged them.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

They both guffawed at my weakness. I let both my hands travel down Bella's chest, tearing her blouse open to reveal her braless rack. I almost had a fucking aneurism.

Her peaks were creamy white, so fucking gorgeous. I moaned, leaning down to take one of her pink, puckered nipples in my mouth. She bucked her hips against me, her arms hooking around my neck. She was pleading alright. Pleading for more.

That wasn't right. She should be scared out of her fucking mind. She should be begging for mercy, not for me to fuck her.

This was all wrong.

I broke away from her, leaving a mark over her breast—my mark. I couldn't help but smirk. She was panting into my hair, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. Instead of me doing it myself, her hands voluntarily moved to my jacket, removing it from my body.

Her eyes told me she knew she was acting insane. She knew. But for some reason...she wanted it.

We shared that weakness.

The leather fell to the pavement. I skimmed my palms back over her shoulders, knotting through her hair again. It was silken and beautiful, not course and gritty. I needed to get a hold of myself; this fucking situation was out of control.

"You have an appalling lack of foresight, Miss Swan." I murmured, leaning my forehead against Bella's.

She stared into my eyes. I didn't understand how she didn't shriek in terror, struggle out of my grasp or even try screaming for help.

"But not in hindsight." She replied, a smirk on her face.

I blinked. She was making a mother fucking joke.

I closed my eyes tightly shut. Where was this going? Where was the bloodlust, the need to take, not to fucking give.

I reluctantly tore away from her grasp, my shoulders hunching slightly. I stood rigid before slowly opening my eyes. My lungs were aching with exhaustion, my heart rate still increased beyond normal. I stared at the woman half-naked before me. My hands fisted at my sides and I breathed out in exasperation.

"You should be afraid," I growled.

Her chest heaved again; my saliva glistened on her nipple. She said nothing.

I dropped my eyes. I wanted the kill...right?

I yelled incomprehensibly, awarded with the sight of Bella flinching. I turned around to the opposite side of the alley, cracking my head against the hard surface. Bella gasped softly but her feet stayed planted, she did not approach me.

You must kill her...feel her blood pulse from her arteries! Cullen hissed.

Savour the taste of her cum...Mixed with the soulless look in her dead eyes. Anthony whispered.

I banged my head again.

"No," I growled.

I turned around to face her again. She was watching me in horror. That was more like it...or was it? I didn't want her to find me...terrifying. I didn't.

Why NOT?! Anthony roared.

Moments before I had been completely content with the voices in my head, the people who took over my body. How could that have changed? In minutes?

"You need to get the fuck out of here, lady!" I shouted.

She twitched; her breathing slowing to a normal pace. She watched me sceptically for a moment; her trembling hands clasped her shirt back together unevenly. She grabbed her cardigan off the ground.

"When will I see you again?" she asked breathlessly.

I glared at her—she must be more fucking insane than I was!

You're just going to let her go?! Anthony admonished; his voice guttural and animalistic with rage.

Watch me, I retorted, snarling.

"No." I told her.

She frowned in disappointment.

"Why not?" she demanded, furious.

Her face flushed pink—the blood rushed to her cheeks...the blood. I shook my head vigorously. They were planting those thoughts, making them my own.

"Evil prowls the shadows in this city at night Miss Swan. You will be wise to avoid it...not ask to see it again."

With that, I grabbed my jacket from the ground and turned to leave my victim untouched...for the most part.

For the first time since beginning this lifestyle,

I felt fucking powerless. I felt as weak as the people I had killed.

My brain was scattered into a million different facets. I was warring with my two counter-parts. I did not wish to end Miss Swan's life. Another first.

Never had I set my sights on someone and then released them.

Never.

That fact that I just did fucking scared me. Infuriated Cullen and enraged Anthony to the point of pure hatred. I felt like I had betrayed myself. It would have been as simple as any time before that. I would have taken her to Leah's apartment, fucked her until she was limp and let my instincts take over, hitting, beating, slicing.

It should have been easy!

I conjured up the image of a lifeless body, paler than pale, eyes glazed, body bruised and marred with gashes. Each deep wound, slick with blood. Fresh.

It gave Anthony satisfaction, deep seeded. It made Cullen horny, insanely so.

But me?

It made me fucking angry.

The thought of Bella lying dead, pale and bloody in my arms was just....what? Unacceptable. It wasn't only that, it was horrendously painful.

I ran my hands through my hair in utter frustration. This was fucking unreal.

I had to see her. I wanted to see her. I fucking needed to.

But to what cost? To myself? To her?

Why are you bothering with the motions? Why not just get it over with, find her, and kill her. It's not fucking quantum physics! It's murder! Something you're quite well acquainted with! Cullen chastised internally.

I fisted my hands in my hair, trying to drive his menacing words from my mind. If I didn't stay in control, one of them was going to burst out and take the fuck over.

They both began a sickening chant.

Kill her, kill her, kill her...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I shouted, my blood boiling.

I was pacing around Leah's living room. She still hadn't come home.

Still hasn't come home, aye? Anthony taunted, chuckling.

I scowled at the ceiling, gritting my teeth.

"Fuck!" I yelled for the fifth time.

I sauntered into the kitchen, my shoes squeaking across the linoleum until I reached my friends well-stocked liquor cabinet. I found a bottle of hard, unlabelled bourbon. It was the good shit, bought for a cheap price off of the street. It was fucking rocket fuel, Drain-o, bleach. Whatever the fuck you wanted to compare it with. As long as it got me fucked up.

You should go and find her again...take her...roughly... Cullen's whispers resounded through my brain.

I wanted to block him out—I wanted to block both of them out, permanently.

Imagine fucking her...hot wet pussy, she's gotta be tight—

"Don't fucking talk about her. I'm not going back." I retorted between clenched teeth.

Over my dead fucking body.

You need the blood, Edward. You need to feel it run over your hands...feel it, smell it...

"Would you shut the fuck up?! I don't want to, okay?" I barked harshly.

The voices fell silent. I sighed in relief.

Well, that's too bad, Edward. We want to see her again, don't we Anthony? Cullen threatened softly.

I narrowed my eyes, taking a deep swig from the bottle. I scrunched my face up. God, it was fucking potent shit. I would have more likely used this shit to wash off a bloody concrete floor than to drink the fucking stuff.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, swallowing the liquid fire.

We would love to see little Bella again... Anthony agreed, a smile in his fucking tone.

"No!" I roared to the both of them.

Why not? They both asked at the same time, their voices held a hint of amusement and irritation.

Did I even have a fucking answer? Why the fuck not? She was the perfect fucking candidate! And I was...protecting her. I shuddered violently—what was happening to me? I was incapable of caring for anything apart from myself. I never wanted to.

And yet, it felt like I hadn't had a fucking choice.

Because, be them an irrevocable part of me or not, I was not about to let them fucking touch Bella Swan.

Oh, Edward, Cullen sighed.

Anthony clucked his tongue.

You may be in control now, but who do you think has been running this fucking show?

I shook my head defiantly.

"I will not...let it happen." I said, my voice a dangerous whisper.

"Fuck with her and..." I trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air.

But seriously, it was because I didn't know what I'd do.

I was seriously fucked in that department. But the aspect that fucked my brain the most was the fact that I couldn't think of what I wouldn't do to keep them from her.

What are you going to handcuff yourself to Leah's bed? Anthony chuckled.

We'll find a way out.

"I'll fucking jump of a fucking sky scraper before I let you touch her. She's mine!" I bellowed into the empty apartment.

Bull... Anthony murmured.

Shit. Cullen finished.

I scoffed.

"I don't care what the fuck I have to do. I'll fucking do it." I warned them.

I knew I was going against everything I had ever fucking wanted or believed in. I was going against my nature—I was protecting her from myself and all the fucked up craziness that went with me. I was being...good.

I never thought I'd see the mother fucking day when that shit happened.

But here I was, and I showed no signs of wavering.

Maybe we'll wait until one of us takes over...then we'll find her,

I growled, a deep, rough sound coming from deep in my chest.

Tear her sweet skin from her body...

I picked up the bottle and pegged it at the fucking wall, the glass shattered and the hazy, sharp scent of the alcohol radiated through the room.

"I have marked her." I muttered to them, almost in a pleading tone.

I was reduced to fucking begging now? All for a strange and possibly insane woman I didn't even know?

Yes. I fucking was.

"You can't have her after that."

They were silenced.

I waited for a response that never came.

Four days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes and thirty-two seconds...

Four days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes and thirty-three seconds...

Thirty-four seconds...

Thirty-five...

It was how long I had been alone in my mind. How long the voices had stayed away. It was how long I had remained my own being, no lack of memory, no lapses in consciousness. It was the longest stretch of time ever.

I was going to fucking find her.

I threw on my jacket and raced from the apartment. The memory of her scent, her skin...her fucking eyes and those fucking tits. Those images have been gnawing at my brain for days. I hadn't killed in that same amount of time. I hadn't drunk, I hadn't had a hit of anything either. No injecting, no snorting, no smoking, no swallowing.

It was like they were what was causing me to do all of it.

But I wasn't as dense as to think that I was fucking cured. I still had a lust for blood, almost unquenchable.

I knew my limits...I knew theirs.

I knew they were still there. They were just...dormant.

I searched again for my target, the target that I had let go of. The one person who had been lucky enough to feel my mercy...

"Bella." I whispered to myself, reverently.

I was standing in the corner of the street; the slow parade of people had dispersed. Again, no more witnesses. But my quest was in vain. I knew I would have been able to spot her out from the crowd. I knew her scent would have enveloped me and branded her as Bella Swan—mine. But her body, her scent, her presence was no-where.

I strolled to the place where I had first caught sight of her the other day. Still, nothing.

On a fucking one in a million chance of finding her back in that alley where I left her, I decided to look anyway.

I sauntered down the long stretch of secluded Chicago, bordering suburbia.

I kicked a stone down the path; it clattered against the pavement, the only sound I could hear.

I reached the mouth of the alley—the one I knew so well, even though I had only been here once.

And...It was purely fucking poetic that I find her here.

She stood against the wall, dressed differently, her hair in pulled back in a pony tail. Her back was to me, she had her hand splayed tenderly against the brick wall as if she were...reminiscing?

I stood in the shadow of a fire exit, watching her fondly as she sighed in resignation.

My head snapped up when I heard footsteps approach.

They were coming from Bella's direction. I held my breath, trying to restrain from sighing at this inconvenience. I wanted to see Bella's face. The heart shaped cloud of milky white skin...the sweetest lips I've ever tasted...

The footsteps became closer—paired with heavy breathing. I looked closer at the approaching person.

It was male, average height, average build... And he was sauntering towards Bella. Bull fucking shit.

I could tell from the tenseness in her shoulders that she was frightened.

She turned, leaving me unnoticed. She did not see past the darkness.

The male started running towards her. A growl surged inside me.

"Hey!" he called.

Bella was swiftly making her way back to the busiest part of town, but the stretch was too long. She wouldn't be fast enough.

"Hey!" he called louder.

I took the chance then to step out of the shadows, looming ominously behind the cunt who was harassing her.

"No," I growled menacingly.

He swivelled round, sized me up and laughed.

"Get fucked, loser." He chortled.

Bella had paused on the sidewalk, staring down the expanse of empty road before her.

Our eyes met—Anthony and Cullen made their ugly entrance.

Except this time...I was aware of everything.

I transitioned into...both of them. We were all one entity.

I sucked in a deep breath as Bella hesitantly came closer. The fucker turned his head and glanced at her.

"Hey! You want to come home with me, don't you?" he leered.

Bella shook her head, making an arc around the fucking wank stain before slowly ambling to my side. She looked me up and down, a wide smile spread over her fucking sexy lips. Every part of me ached to screw her up against a fucking wall, but this sad fuck would have to come first.

He eyes us both suspiciously before taking a nervous step back, realising that maybe he wasn't as fucking smart as he originally thought.

I removed my hunter's knife from the back of my jeans, unsheathing it. It glimmered nicely under the cast of artificial street lights.

Bella smiled wider as her eyes scanned over the object I held in my fingertips. I grinned at her before gently taking the blade between my fingers, swift and stealthily flinging it forward into the unsuspecting and unprepared fucker's neck. He screamed, his knees collapsing under him as a shower of blood soaked his shirt. More splattered from his mouth. His hands shook violently as they hovered over the hilt of the dagger, afraid to leave it in and afraid to take it out.

I sauntered up to him, grinning in satisfaction at his pitifully ordinary body.

Another unexceptional fucker.

The rage within me slowly disappeared...the link between me, Anthony and Cullen evaporated. The both went back to their respective places inside my head but did me the courtesy of staying quiet.

I breathed deeply, pulling the knife from his throat before bringing it down again and again. Bella walked up to me and placed a tender hand on my shoulder. My face was dotted with hot blood, my clothes and jeans smeared.

I put my knife back, obeying Bella's silent orders.

We walked away from the blood masterpiece.

My blood thirst was satiated for now.

I watched Bella's hips swing as she walked; my cock grew fucking hard as I stared at her tight little ass. I groaned and she glanced over her shoulder at me, a sly smile on her face. She stopped at the alley way, leaning her back up against the wall. I shrugged my jacket off, letting it fall to the ground at my feet before bringing her face to mine. She growled hungrily into my mouth, tearing my shirt open and unzipping my jeans to reveal my cast-iron shaft. I was in pain it was so fucking hard.

She moaned, her hand moving to grasp it.

I hissed before fisting my hands in her hair and pressing my lips to hers again. Her tongue slid in and out of my mouth as I pressed myself harder into her body. She was breathless, her eyes filled with some dark, forbidden desire. Sinister.

"You're so fucking sexy." I told her.

"Fuck me here, against this fucking wall!" she ordered sharply.

I obeyed.

I fucking wanted to so bad.

My fingers, purposeful—still bloody—unbuttoned her blouse, it was red this time. Fitting.

There was a flattering slit up the side of the pencil skirt. I tore it, pulling her skirt off entirely. She was naked before me, beautiful, sexy, and so fucking horny.

She glowered at me, impatient. I smirked before hitching her leg onto my hip. I sniffed the air, smelling her arousal. I ran my index finger between her folds, wet and slippery. I stuck my finger in my mouth. She moaned at the sight. Her hands were on my shoulders, her nails digging in painfully. I welcomed the pain. I thrust harshly into her pussy.

We both moaned.

I wrapped her other leg around my hip so she was completely off of the ground.

"Fuck!" she screamed, unabashed.

Even with the fact that she had just watched me kill someone.

I drove into her faster, my cock was twitching, lavishing in the feeling of her moist hotness enveloping it. I was pumping hard, Bella's legs tightening rhythmically around my torso.

I grunted with pleasure, grinning as she closed her eyes, bit her lip or moaned out in ecstasy.

Again, fucking exquisite.

He clit rubbed against my stomach as I rode her against the brick wall, sure that at least someone could hear us, but not giving a fuck if they did.

She burrowed her hands through my hair, tugging at the roots until I growled out curses. She smiled wickedly, doing it again, harder. I pushed her off of me slightly then fully impaled her on my dick. She wailed out in pleasure, the tip of my cock almost hitting the roof of her fucking mouth.

"You are mine now." I told her, it wasn't a request, demand or plea.

It was just a statement.

She nodded.

"But, you're mine too." She said, her voice uneven as I pounded my cock into her wetness.

"Fuck, yes!" I shouted into the night, my panting becoming even shallower with each desperate buck of my hips.

My muscles were tensing, but I needed to hold off until Bella came.

I pressed her closer to the wall, thrusting over again and circling her sensitive nub with my thumb. She screamed.

I relished in it.

Her tight pussy clenched around my cock. It was long awaited, the best fuck of my life. I grunted with the last pump, owning her. My cum hit her inside walls as she continued to tighten and convulse with the pleasure of her climax. I had smeared blood over her, but she didn't seem to care.

She looked down at me, her eyes dark and unforgiving in the gloom.

"But I need your name." She panted, licking her lips.

"Edward." I told her with a smirk.

"I'm Marie," she informed me.

I frowned, confused.

"I thought your name was Bella...?"

She chuckled sinfully, her eyes penetrating mine.

"I'm both, sweet heart." She said with another heinous smile.

No fucking way.

She's one of us.