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Bullets and Black Roses: Chapter 3

February 3, 2010

A/N: I DO NOT own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer owns the saga and its characters.

Hey every one. Okay so let me serve the turkey first. This is a BONUS chapter. I’m not going to update the fiction twice every week But I felt that, this chapter was necessary to publish before the next one comes out. Other wise Edwards’s activities would have confused you guys.

So, the special appearance is still on for the next chapter.

Love you all, sempre.

 

Bullets and Black roses

Chapter 3: Charcoal Memories

EPOV:

Remember when Mommy told you “To be stronger, all you’ll ever need to do is believe in yourself” and daddy said “violence is never the answer”?

Well, mommy lied and daddy just didn’t want you to face the bitter truth yet.

You know what I say?

Nothing is ever going to be alright until you make it alright.

I say, you must learn to kill first and indulge in safety afterward.

It’s a cruel world out there. And, you think I’m the bad guy just because I’m telling the truth?

In that case, Ignorance is motherfucking bliss for you.

Love?

There’s a very thin fucking line between lust and delusion.

You think you are in love?

Congratulations! You’ve just crossed the line and officially became delusional.

And when that illusion dies people struggle to hold onto the remaining pieces of their shattered heart for the next delusion. Same practice, just with a different body.

Life?

 

Life is just a demonstration of someone dying without a real death scene. The only difference is, the pain stops once you are dead but the suffering continues every second you live.

Believe?

 

You make me laugh.  When was the last time when you were in despair and there was someone there to hold your hand?

Everyone declares to be there for you. But they never truly mean what they say. Even when they are watching you drown, they articulate ‘I am here’ but secretly rejoice the fact that it’s not them. You’ll be all by yourself in the end. When the floor caves in between where you are standing. It’ll be you beneath the black sky, surrounded by flickers when the moment begins to blur. Just you, all alone.     

I’ve always found myself alone.

When there was nothing in view and nowhere to conceal myself, when the vivid dreams became  charcoal memories and an ivory manuscript full of unspoken hopes was blazed, I could reach for them but I couldn’t hold them in my hands. The ashes escaped like snow from the gaps of my fingers.

How can you even dare to believe when there is a ‘lie’ in ‘be-lie-f’, itself?

What? A bit too pessimistic for you?

Well, I’m a cynical man.

It’s funny actually, someone once told me that to become cynical you first have to be an idealist and it’s the loss of those ideals that creates the disenchantment.

But I fear I must be the only exception that proves the rule. I was born with out any ideals to loose at the first place and if I’d had them they wouldn’t have lasted very long as I grew up.

That does sound like a very miserable way to live, I know. But hey what did I just tell you about dying a thousand deaths a day? It doesn’t really end till the death scene comes ashore.

I was born in Chicago, 1987. My father Edward Masen was married to a beautiful woman named Elizabeth. In 1988, five years into their fruitless marriage Elizabeth gave birth to a gorgeous girl. They named her Alicia. They were happy with their only child, the star of their eyes, the significance of their lives while I remained somewhere else alone and forgotten.

My mother had an extraordinary voice. She used to sing and play the piano in a five star hotel in Chicago. The money the hotel paid her was not enough to meet her indulgences.

So she used to entertain the male guests occasionally in favor of cash. One unholy day in the face of this most unholy world my father Edward came to Chicago for a business deal and decided to stay at the same hotel. He met my mother and 10 months later, I was born. My mother named me after him.

My mother’s singing career came to an end when I was four years old. The hotel fired her and prosecuted her for the debt she owed the hotel for RFB (Room, food, beverage) And when I say beverage, I mean eighty thousand dollars worth of beverage in four fucking years.

They took our shelter away and kicked us out into the streets. My mother then became a waitress in a food joint. That’s the best she could do to afford a one room shithole apartment and cheap food on our table twice a day.

But she drank all the time and her male entertainment for money continued.

I remember those days when she used to make me sit in front of the television to watch ‘Tom and Jerry’ while some drunken jerk fucked the hell out of her just six feet behind my back.

I never got to tell her I never liked watching the never ending chase of the cat and the mouse. If I was Tom I would have caught jerry long before and enlighten it ‘Don’t fuck with me. I don’t like being fucked around’ before killing it. And also the fact, that no matter how greater of a havoc Tom and Jerry caused on the TV screen, they weren’t just loud enough to engulf the other disturbing sounds issuing from behind me. But I never looked back, not even as a curious child. I knew, the sight couldn’t be any better than the sounds.

On the evening before my sixth birthday a guy came to our shithole to have a ‘good time’ with my mother and he couldn’t believe that my mother fucked people with me in the same room. He refused to have sex in front of me. My mother needed the money badly for her nightly booze so she locked me up in our dirty bathroom and fucked that finicky motherfucker loud and hard.

I patiently waited for her to let me out of the bathroom. But after a while I heard the male leave the place followed my mothers hurried footsteps just a few minutes later.

I waited all night perched on the grimy bathroom floor, my ear pressed against the rickety door. But all I could hear was the sickening sobs coming out of my own chest. My eyes dried out eventually and I fell asleep, curled into a ball, cold and hungry.

The next morning the door flew open and my mother bustled inside, scooping me up in her arms. She sobbed loudly how she was so sorry, she passed out drunk in a bar. She held me tightly against her chest as she whimpered and blubbered apologies. I let her ruin my only favorite shirt and I was the one consoling her then. I told her that I knew she didn’t mean it. I had said “Don’t cry mommy, anyone can make a mistake!” She apologized again and again for forgetting me.

She promised me that she would never drink again.

That day she took me out with her, we had no money to celebrate my birthday. So she took me to the bakery and made a deal with the baker. The owner of the bakery would give me a small pound cake if my mother washed and dried all the dishes back in the kitchen.

It took my mother almost two hours to scrap, rinse and wipe all the filthy dishes by hand. But she did it. I remember, walking back to our place, holding my mothers hand as she carried the cake.

Back home, my mother conjured an old white candle out of nowhere that didn’t look anything like the colorful thin, stripy ones people usually used on cakes.

She told me to blow the candle out and make wish. Just one wish, but a good one.

I wished for my mother to keep her promise till the day she dies.

Well, my wish came true. She didn’t break her promise and I didn’t have to wait long for her death either.

The next morning when I woke up, her arms were still wrapped around me but her soul had left her body. She was gone.

Later the lady from the social services explained to me, my mother had died from liver failure.

That was the first time I felt truly alone. That day was marked as the commencement of the end of my sanity.

It took the social services two weeks to track down my father who didn’t have the slightest acknowledgement whatsoever of my existence. I remember the shock on his face when the social services dropped me at his doorstep and explained to him that I was indeed, his son.

My father refused the claim at first, saying he would have known if he had a six year old son somewhere. But they just took some DNA samples from him and assured that they will provide me with other accommodations if the results turn out to be negative. And they left me there.

The following week, neither my father nor Elizabeth spoke to me. The only time his wife asked me a direct question was “What is your name?” 

The atmosphere in the Masen house became overwrought. But the one person who was indifferent in that situation was Alicia.

The first thing she ever said to me was “Edward! Do you know my daddy’s name is Edward too? But I’m not allowed call him by his name. But I can call you ‘Edward’. Yay! Edward!” she jumped up and down with joy.

 The husband-wife didn’t talk to each other in front of me but I could hear their angry screaming and the smash of things breaking at nights. Alicia would come in my room whenever the screaming got worse, dragging her teddy bear along with her.

“Mommy and Daddy are making too much noise. I’m scared Edward. Even teddy can’t sleep. See? He has dark circles around his eyes” she would hold her teddy in my face.

“Mommy says you get sick when you don’t get enough sleep. Can Teddy and I sleep in here with you? Can we? Please Edward? You don’t want him to get sick, do you? Do you, Edward?”

She slept in my room- gripping my night shirt in her fists whenever there was another noise- almost every night for two weeks until my DNA results came.

 I was playing with Alicia in the living room. She had a small toy key-board that was her favorite but she was too young too make music that you could enjoy without begging god for deafness. The only thing my mother was ever able to teach productively me in her short life was how to play the piano.

So I used to make up my own music on Alicia’s little key-board and she used to watch my fingers glide across the black and white keys. Her wide hazel eyes, filled with awe as music came out.

That morning I just finished playing one of my 20 second long creations for teddy and her for the fifth time in a row when Elizabeth came into the room, carrying two heavy suitcases. She looked miserable, her eyes were swollen from crying and her whole face was blotchy.

She told Alicia to gather up her toys because they were leaving. Forever.

“But we can’t leave Edward here alone, mommy!” she flinged at her mother.

“He won’t be alone. Your daddy is gonna stay here with him” Elizabeth told her daughter.

“Daddy isn’t coming with us?” the five year old thought she was going vacationing or something.

“No, sweetheart. It’s just you and me” she told Alicia without meeting her eyes.

“What about Edward? I don’t want to go without him” her little fingers clenched securely around mine.

This time Elizabeth’s voice became harsh “You don’t need to worry about him. His father will look after him. He chose him over us”

“But mommy, he is my friend. I want to take care of him too. Just like I take care of teddy” she was crying at that point.

After half an hour of further screaming, crying and begging at the same time, she calmed down a bit and asked her mother if forever was a long time.

“I don’t know Honey” her mother whispered, eyeing me warily.

“Well, can I come and visit Edward when ‘forever’ is over?” she asked her mother, finally defeated.

Elizabeth nodded quietly in agreement and burst into tears herself.

 “Did you hear that, Edward? I can come and play with you again after ‘forever’” She hugged me, smiling. Then she picked her little key-board up and told me that she wanted me to have it “You can keep it, if you get real good at it then maybe you can teach me when I come back”

“Honey, go wait in the car outside for me please” Elizabeth told her.

“Take care of Daddy for us till ‘forever’, Edward” Alicia said as she let go off my hands.

“I will” I promised, fighting back tears.

As soon as Alicia left the house, Elizabeth came over and crouched down in front of me.

“I thought I could do this. I really tried. But I’m just not strong enough. Every time I look at you it reminds me of what your father did to me, how he betrayed my trust”

I was confused. I didn’t know what you had to do in order to break someone’s trust.

But I felt sorry for her regardless. I didn’t like tears. They reminded me of my last day with my own mother.

 I wiped her tears with my fingers and she flinched when I touched her. I didn’t care.

I said “I’m sorry for whatever my father did to you”

“Me too, Edward. Me too” she kissed me on my forehead before picking up the suitcases and heading towards the door.

“Goodbye, Edward. And always remember that none of this is your fault” those were the last words I ever heard from her.

That was the last time I saw Alicia too.

Of course, none of that was my fault.

My mother died because she drank her way into her grave and my father lost his loved ones because he’s got an illegitimate child. They suffered the consequences of their own mistakes. I knew none of those were my fault.

Because, I was the fault. I was the fucking mistake myself.

If you accidentally trod on filth while walking in the streets, you can always clean your self up once you’re home. But no one takes care of the filth that still remains where it was. 

My father came home late that day and found me alone, clutching Alicia’s keyboard to my chest. He asked me where everyone was and I told him that they had left forever.

He didn’t believe at me first.

He was a cynical man too. I guess I inherited cynicism from my father.

He called me a ‘liar’ and ran upstairs to check all the rooms. He found their closets empty, belongings gone and finally comprehension dawned on him. They left him. They left me. They left us. Period.

He walked over to me quietly and his knees gave out, he slid onto the floor beside me. He didn’t shed tears but the look on his face told me whatever he had done to Elizabeth, must had been something truly awful.

I wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him and tell him what I had told my mother.

But I was scared of him. Elizabeth had recoiled when I touched her. What if he hit me if I do the same to him?

I wanted to make him happy, like the way I made Alicia and my mother happy when I played for them.

I picked up the key-board and played the first piece my mother taught me ‘We shall overcome one day’ mixed with a few of my own meaningless compositions. It came out beautifully.

And he smiled. He fucking smiled. That was the first time I ever saw my father smile.

He asked me where the additional music had came from and I told him I made it up.

He smiled again and I become conscious of the facts that I had his smile, the same lopsided smile. And his hair, the same disarray of tousled auburn hair.

Things got better as time went on. He got me into a school and I was doing well. I had a few friends who didn’t think I was a mistake. My teacher informed my dad I was interested in music so he made arrangement for me to take piano lessons. He hired help, a middle aged Romanian named Stefan. He took care of me and took me to school, helped me with homework, my piano lessons. He was a kind hearted man. He taught me how to ride a bike and how to swim. I liked him a lot. He was my friend.

My father was a busy man. He’d leave the house early in the morning and came home way past my bed time. I rarely got to see him. He just kept buying me new toys and candies.

But I wanted more from him, I wanted to do the things I did with Stefan with him.

But he was always gone.

My seventh birthday came and went by. I got a grand piano on my birthday. I was so happy. I wanted to play something special for him but he was out of the city again.

I played for Stefan instead. I remember asking him why my father was always gone. He told me that my father had a lot of money coming in from his businesses around the country. So he had to go away to invest and deal with them properly.

I didn’t understand what he meant by that but I did seem to realize that we did have a lot of money. At first, I thought everyone who was not as broke as my mother had the same amount of riches. But as I grew up I understood that my father had more money than most others.

One day Stefan didn’t come to work. My father tried to make contact with him but he couldn’t find him anywhere. It was like he vanished from the face of this world without a trace.

So he hired someone else. He was a younger and taller man with long sandy hair. His name was James.

I didn’t like him. He was nothing like Stefan had been. All he ever did was eating and lurking around my fathers study and bedroom. I saw him roaming around the house with a note pad in his hands, ticking and crossing stuff as he eyed our belongings greedily.

I wanted to inform this to my father. I knew something was just not right with James. He used to snap at me and make me fetch him food from the refrigerator as he sat on his lazy ass and watched violent movies. I saw how people killed people. How the characters fired guns. I remembered asking James “what’s that thing the guy always slides before firing his gun?”

“That’s a called safety-catch, you idiot” James said, not even bothering to dart his eyes away from the television screen.

“A safety what?” I asked.

 “That’s the sliding breech cover of an automatic gun” he explained impatiently. “You slide it, and the gun’s ready to fire”

“How many times do you need to shoot someone before he dies?” I asked again.

“Why do you need to know?” he finally looked at me.

“This man” I pointed out the leading actor on screen “got shot four times, I counted. But he’s still walking” I looked him in the eyes.

James winced a little. That seemed to happen a lot with people around me when I made direct eye contact for any amount of time with them. Especially with strangers. They’d all wince at first just like James and then quickly look away.

“Well, it’s a movie, isn’t it? No matter how many times he gets shot at he wont die before saving the girl” he tried to humor me, but I asked again, in a steel cold but pleasant voice.

“How many times?” I kept my gaze fixed at him. I knew it was making him uncomfortable. I wanted him to be uncomfortable.

“I don’t know” he said irritably “It depends. Once is enough if you can shoot him right between the eyes or through his heart. Twice if anywhere else in his torso, or thrice maybe just to make sure. But you don’t die if you get shot in your arms or legs” he said, looking at his feet.

“So, how many times do you prefer to shoot when you kill people?” I asked.

His head shot up and he looked at me again. I stared back at him, smiling. I happily noticed a slight shudder run through his body. He blinked at me a couple of times before he gained control of himself.

“What kind of stupid question is that? Why would I want to kill people?” he tried really hard to exhibit anger in his tone but his insignificant twitching gave him away.

“Please James; what I meant was if you ever had to kill someone, how many times would you have fired at him?” I was still smiling gently at him. He was growing more edgy by each passing milliseconds. He could tell very well that was not at all what I meant.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business! If it was you I would have fired plenty of times just to shut you up, you can count on that” he said, deeply annoyed “And don’t stare at me like that. It’s creepy!” he focused his eyes back on the TV again.

A week later, I heard James talking to somebody on the phone

“I’m telling you he keeps nothing in this house. I checked the whole place. There’s only a safe in his study and its full worthless paper documents, nothing that we can use. I did a bit of background checking. He keeps all the cash and jewels in high security volts of multiple banks all over the country. So the only way we can get our hands on his money is if the cheeky old bastard comes in and signs us a check himself” he whispered hoarsely.

Then whoever was on the other side became verbal and James just listened to him quietly for a long while.

“I guess I could do that” he finally said.

“It’ll be easy” He confirmed.

“Listen we’ll talk about this later. I don’t want to be overheard” he looked around uneasily.

“Humph! You don’t fucking know how it feels, it’s like that little fuck sees right through me, into my soul” he flinched.

“What the fuck do you mean you didn’t know I even had a soul?” he retorted angrily.

“Go fuck yourself” he hung up, noisily.

I knew he was talking about me when he said ‘that little fuck’ I knew something bad was coming but never had I imagined it would happen what happened the very next day or that it would happen so soon.

I woke up in the morning and my father had already left for work as usual. I got dressed for school and went downstairs to get some breakfast. I walked into the kitchen and I saw James standing behind the island, looking down in his hands.

“Good morning, James” I greeted him as usual.

“You too” he said “Hey come and take a look at what I’ve got over here” He beckoned me forward.

I walked over to him, a white folded handkerchief rested on his palm. A sweet funny smell was issuing from it. I leaned in closer to get a better look but before I could move or think he pressed the handkerchief against my face. I couldn’t breathe. The intoxicating odor overcame my senses and my vision blurred. My body lost its ability to move and my mind its ability to think. My eyes drooped and everything went black. It was like being sucked into a never-ending vacuum of darkness.

When I opened my eyes later, my sight was still hazy. I felt incredibly numb. I was vaguely aware that I was someplace other than my school or home. I wanted to sit up, stretch and look around but my limbs weren’t responding. 

I could hear multiple male voices talking excitedly a few feet away from me. I recognized one of them as James’s but the others were completely unfamiliar to me.

“It was easy as cake. This creepy little fuck is as stupid as his old man. I’m telling you the only real job I had to do in this whole operation was to take care of that barmy old faggot Stefan” He laughed and a few others joined him.

My eyes snapped open and I sat up quietly. James killed Stefan. He killed my friend. I looked aground the place carefully. James and three other men were sitting around a round table, drinking beer and playing cards. And another man, who looked very different from the lot, sat a good 10 feet away from them in a corner sofa. He had sleek, jet black hair and he was looking at me with intense grey eyes.

I stared back at him just as silently, wondering when he would wince and look away. But he didn’t. He kept direct eye-contact with me. He looked amused, in a way. I stood up and he smiled at me. My heart gave a lurch and for the first time in my life I was the one who looked away uncomfortably.

Only then I could grasp what James had meant about me being creepy. It felt like he was reading every thought that was going through my mind, seeing right into my core. I felt naked and vulnerable under his gaze. I wondered indistinctly if my ‘creepy’ gaze had the same kind of impact on others.

“James, I think our little friend has awakened” he said in a smooth, sing-song voice.

At his words, all the eyes in the room darted towards me. James got up a seized a bunch of ropes from a box and ensued towards me.

“Now now, James I think that’s hardly necessary. I don’t think this child is going to try and escape” He stared at me again. And I felt like a insect that was being dissected under a microscope.

“Are you, child?” this time he asked me directly.

“I know you already know” I answered clearly. I could tell that this man was more dangerous than all the others in that room combined. I knew he was respected and feared. But I just couldn’t bring myself to fear him.

“How extraordinary!” He chimed happily. “And yet such a waste” he looked directly at James, who looked away uneasily, just like he did under my stare. It looked like him and I shared the same gift of ‘creepiness’

“What? Are you out of your mind, Aro? We are not making the call for ransom till midnight” James tried to reason with him “What if he screams and…” he was saying but Aro cut him off.

“Were underground, in the middle of nowhere James” he said, not darting his eyes away from mine.

“Thank you Aro” I smiled and he beamed back at me.

Our exchange was noticed by everyone else in the room. James muttered something darkly that sounded like “Sinister fuckers…..like one of them wasn’t enough….” As he sat back down again.

“Are you hungry, child?” he inclined his head towards the bowl full of apples on his side table.

I was hungry. And I was pretty sure Aro knew that. I didn’t bother to answer his question. I silently walked over to the table, picked up an apple and sat beside Aro on the sofa.

 I heard others gasp and hiss at my actions. But Aro continued to beam at me, completely at ease.

I stared at Aro as I took big bites from my apple. He stared back at me with even more intensity than before. But this time his expression was different. Curiosity dominant in his brilliant grey eyes. I felt like I knew what he wanted to ask me. I don’t know how, I just had an intuition that he wanted to know why I wasn’t afraid.

 I finished my apple and cleared my throat “I am almost eight years old. I know what fear is but I do not fear you. Fear and respect are two different things, Aro” I smiled at him.

Aro’s eyes sparkled as he burst into laughter. Everyone looked up at him including James.

“They surely are” he nodded in confirmation as he beamed up at me like a proud parent does at his triumphant child.

“Take another apple child” he handed me the bowl. And I noticed with shock that there was a gun hidden under the fruits. I looked up at him curiously but he was busy fixing his perfectly tied shoelaces.

 I sat with the bowl on my lap, staring at James who was drinking like a fish.

“James, how many times did you shoot Stefan when you killed him?” I asked politely.

James looked up from his cards and smirked sickeningly. Aro cocked and eyebrow at him.

“It’s a long story, Aro” he shrugged and his gaze fell on me again.

“Once” he flashed me his filthy teeth.

“In his head or through his heart?” I asked again, my smile never wavering from my face. But my insides were burning in fury.

“I shot him right between his eyes kid. There, I said it. You happy now? …..you know there’s something seriously wrong with you. And what’s up with the staring? You creepy little fuc….” But James never got to finish his sentence.

A few things happened concurrently at that moment. The fruit bowl in my hands fell down and smashed into a thousand pieces. I imagined an invisible target right in the centre of his forehead as I slide the safety-catch unlock. James and the others looked up with pure horror in their eyes as I pulled the trigger.

The next minute, James’s inert corpse rested peacefully on the carpeted floor with a small hole in his skull.

And that’s the first time I killed another human being in my life. The first of my many.


Leave me some love and comments and forgive for the typos.

lots of reviews so…….. I can write  faster. 

      

Also view the Fic in FanFiction.Net  here http://www.fanfiction.net/~sabrinaroberts

Sabrina (RobstenWish)


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11 Comments leave one →
  1. February 3, 2010 10:14 am

    Hey guys, Sabrina here. How are you all? what do you think so far? EPOV again next week? what do you say?… I hope you like it.

    Pls pls pls leave comments on the fic, your thoughts, characters, ideas whatever…. I love you all.

    See ya next week …. maybe even sooner if i get lots of reviews 🙂

  2. February 3, 2010 9:33 pm

    Whoa, I like the turning round of the names and the characters with James and Aro remaining the villains. Where’d the names Stefan and Alicia come from? Its seriously creepy and disturbed…but i must say, its fits! The idea of the personality backgrounds is really quite compelling (in a non disturbing way). Loving it. Cant wait for chapter 4.x

    • February 4, 2010 4:38 am

      Thanks for your comment and I borrowed the name Stefan from Braking Dawn. He is one of the two Romanian vampires. And Alicia is someone you’ll just have you find out about as the story goes on 🙂

  3. destiny permalink
    February 4, 2010 1:55 am

    Oh….My….Gosh….I loved it!!! I was basically pressed up against my computer!! I cant wait for the next chapter!!

  4. February 4, 2010 2:53 am

    O.M.G!!!!!! Poor Eward all he had to go through!!! her mother died the day after his birthday?! omg!! *mouth hanging open* I actually cried on that part….
    Amazing, just amazing chapter!!!!!!!
    Please update soon!!!!

    Luv. ~E.

  5. mia permalink
    February 7, 2010 9:03 pm

    I was rereding this chapter because i cant wait for the next one.

  6. chissy permalink
    February 9, 2010 6:30 pm

    I cant wait any longer please release chapter 4 its awsome

  7. carlie permalink
    February 12, 2010 5:09 pm

    OMG! I just got to the end it is so good 🙂

  8. Aylin permalink
    February 20, 2010 1:01 pm

    OMG I just had the time to read this chapter and I cried when his mother died…so sad! His mother truly loved him… You are such a good writer! Love your stories!!!

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