First Twilight story so I apologise if it's not very good.

Summary: Edward's memories of the first ten years of his life were hard to cope with. But when he suddenly starts remembering the terror and horror he caused, can he stop himself from going off the edge?

Demons Deep Inside:

Chapter one:

The memories at the back of his mind were dangerous; the wall that was blocking them from the rest of his mind was unstable and constantly swaying backwards and forwards. But it always stayed up, saving him from the dark, pitch black terror and horror that he had once caused, saving him from loosing the self he had created.

He had spent ten years, ten foolish years, being that hideous monster that sometimes consumed him. Ten foolish years he had spent being the man he had not wanted to be. The killer. The monster. The terror that people ran away from in the night. He had spent ten foolish horrible years away from drinking the only other option, away from draining animals instead of humans. Humans who had lives. Humans who had families. And he had taken them away from that because of that stupid voice at the back of his head.

Edward, it would sometimes call in it's deep growly voice that sounded like his when he hunted. It would tell him to do horrible things, tell him to break Carlisle's neck so he wouldn't have to suffer just drinking animal blood any more. Telling him to go out and take what was rightfully his. He struggled to fight the voice, but he did, and he would be fine for the rest of the day.

And then sometimes, it would be nice. It would say well done for having such self control. Tell him that he was great the way he was, saving people's lives instead of taking them. But when he let the words wash over him, the words that had a double meaning. You're still a murderer though. That was what it would hiss afterwards, when he had let himself kill a elk as a celebratory snack for making his inner self happy. He could never make it happy, ever. It would always be angry. Whenever.

He hadn't let it consume him though. He was still himself. He was still broody, moody Edward, who read the thoughts of others, and drank animal blood, and replayed high school over and over to other people. His family. But inside, he was a darker person; darker then any nomad he had ever met, who didn't care about drinking human blood. He was a monster. His soul, if he had one, was a pitch dark black pit of nothing, and there was no feelings there. Nothing. Just a black space that filled his body up.

His body was frozen. Frozen forever at seventeen. He would still have the same face hundreds of years later when he looks into the mirror, instead of having wrinkles and being old and frail. He would never have children, or grandchildren. He would just be lonely, little Edward.

That was what the voice would call him sometimes. He would whisper it in the dead of the night, when Carlisle was on a night shift at the hospital, and Esme was decorating something upstairs, and every one of his siblings was doing something. It would tell him that he was lonely, no matter how many friends he had and no matter how loved he felt, he was lonely. He didn't have a love, a mate. He had no one.

Perhaps it was easier this way. Too have no one. So that he wouldn't have to tell them how crazy he actually was. How horrible he was. About how he had tortured hundreds of people in those ten years he had spent away from Carlisle. If he had no one, then no one could run in the opposite direction to him when they got scared of him. He wouldn't have to see people turn their backs to him.

It was better this way, when he was alone, with that wall that would sway backwards and forwards but still managed to fulfil its job of keeping the bad, horrible memories out.

It was better this way.

The greenery was a nice change of scenery from the busy streets of Chicago. The icy wind was refreshing, but didn't do anything to the pale complexion on his face. It didn't bring a red hue to his face like it had done back in the nineteen hundreds, when he was wearing posh suits and his hair combed back. Now, he was wearing jeans and trainers, things that would have certainly been frowned upon when he was younger. Now, if you wore these, you'd fit in more then wearing a black suit with a pocket watch.

Forks was a little town that sat on the edge of the Canadian border. It rained constantly here, which was perfect for himself. When the bright sunlight shone on him, he glittered like a diamond. When the sunlight shone on him, he usually shied away. It was as if the sunlight was a spotlight, making the fact that he was inhuman and a monster stand out to people. But people who saw him like this would flutter their eyelids, the thoughts that ran through their heads were all the same. 'Beautiful'. He wasn't beautiful. He was a monster.

He was too fast. He could out run any plane, any fast car, any train. He was too strong. He could break rock with the flick of his wrist. He could break a person's neck with just a little squeeze. He was too beautiful. His eyes were a topaz yellow, that shone, his face pale, like snow, and as smooth as marble. Even the purple bags under his eyes made him beautiful.

He didn't feel beautiful. He felt ugly. He felt as if he should have big fangs, and claws and be as ugly as a troll. Be ugly so it would force people away. Show people that he truly was a monster. Alice, his sister, had tried to tell him otherwise. Tried to drill in his head that he was a nice, warming and kind person with a gentle heart. She wasn't describing him. She was describing her. She was nice, warming and kind. He was a horrible living dead being who could kill anything. But not himself.

Lord knows he had tried. But he couldn't. He didn't drink blood for months, but it just made the cravings come even harder then before, and Carlisle had to lock him in his bedroom while they hunted for him. He tried jumping off cliffs, standing in front of trains...anything! But nothing worked. He was stuck a stupid, horrible, terrible monster, alone with nobody.

He looked up when he pulled up at his new home. Forks. As long as he didn't break, and kept the memories behind the wall, he would be fine. As long as the voice wouldn't hiss at him, he'd be fine.

Hopefully.

He was playing the piano.

After spending the whole day holding his breath, he needed a release.

Today, going to Forks High School without hunting had been dangerous. With the move and trying to get everything, he and his siblings had not hunted. Everyone was so worried about how Jasper was going to react that they didn't worry about him. They should have. The voice was hissing at him even more. Take it, Edward. TAKE IT! The scents of all those humans combined had hit him as soon as he stepped out of the car. His nose burned as he took a whiff of the sweet scent of blood, along with the thump of the peoples heartbeats, warm bodies that were so naive and vulnerable.

They had stared at him for the whole day; the hormones were dripping off them, creating a sea of trouble for Edward. It was as if he was the shark, and they were the seals bleeding in the water, attracting his attention. Because that was what he was when he was sat in those classes. He was the predator among prey, hidden so no one who know.

Every one in that school should have feared for their lives. They should have ran away from the danger that was him. The monster that was him.

But they didn't.

And so that was why he was playing the piano. Something for him to concentrate on, and not the wall that was swaying dangerously.

Hopefully it would stay upright.

Because if it didn't, nobody was going to like the darkness that would overtake his mind and soul.

No one.

Hopefully you liked it. Don't know whether to continue this or not, so...;)

If I will, next chapter will be up soon.