Slaves to the Moon By Skeezon.pdf

Slaves to the Moon By Skeezon

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6776738/1/

~*~

A dark-haired girl sat on the edge of consciousness, dangling her toes into

nothing. A tattered diary lay open on her lap while her charcoal stained fingers

clutched at the pencil hovered above the page. Tendrils of smoke swirled around

her and she wished that she didn't love the smell of it. With glossy eyes, she

glanced up from her blank lined paper, awaiting his arrival. The tendons of her

forearms twitched with the want, the need to scribble down her inner most

thoughts. She figured that reading it back later was a sure way to prove that she

wasn't crazy.

Since she was fourteen, Bella Swan had lived this way. She floated above reality

on whatever high she could find to get her there. It wasn't always sin-infused

chemical drugs or even seven grain alcohols. Sometimes her art, along with

music and heightened state of awareness could put her into the best trip. The

rough sound of her charcoals against textured paper calmed her in a way that no

drug or therapist had ever done.

Bella had always steered clear of relationships and the human race in general.

She thought that the interaction, attention and small talk it took to attain and

maintain friendships were too much work. She was bitter that she was bound to

earth and unhappy that her worth was determined by the number of friends one

had. Or, in her case, didn't have. People were a commodity to be bought and

sold, often trading their morals and values for material possessions. For these

reasons, she never cared much for other people.

While Bella understood that she was attractive, she didn't care. Plenty of people

had told her so, but she dismissed their words as just a technique to get into her

pants. If only they'd known she didn't need to be charmed; she gave it up freely.

She wasn't ashamed. Fucking was always enjoyable. Even bad sex was still sex.

Ever since she'd lost her virginity at the age of sixteen, she'd felt empowered by

her feminine lure and sex appeal. No guys or girls, no matter how attractive or

sexually favored, had ever held her attention for longer than it had taken to get

off.

Not until she saw him.

It was a dark evening, the moon temporarily covered by lazy clouds. She'd

settled herself on the iron fire escape outside of her apartment, her trusty pencil

sketching its usual subject. Vacant eyes stared back at her from the page while

she tried to shut off her emotional attachment.

A hooded figure crept into the alley below her, catching her waning attention. The

lead of her pencil ceased in its track as her eyes stayed glued to the shape. His

clothes were all dark, almost blending into the shadows as if she could smudge

him out of a drawing.

He didn't notice her there, perched above him like a shepherd keeping watch of

her sheep. He never did pay attention to his surroundings, that's what had led to

the trouble weighing down on him now. Pacing the alley like a caged cat, he

flexed his fists, needing to vent this fury and fear pumping through his veins. He

needed a willing outlet to take this pain and hurt from his head. He paused,

hearing a snarling sound, before promptly realizing it was coming from inside his

own chest.

Edward Cullen was a complicated guy. He was an intellectual conundrum beneath

his tough as nails, decorated veneer. He'd studied at the best schools; he'd won

academic awards and numerous scholarships. When it had come time to shine

like a star, to cash in all the chips he'd won, he threw it all away for the love of a

girl.

Tanya had changed who he was, straight down to his core. He changed what he

liked and what he did, just to please her. He left behind his overbearing family

and embraced her as the only string left tethering him to life. He gave himself up

for her, a sacrifice that had not been reciprocated.

"Fuck!" he shouted, his voice bouncing its way up the alley until it was freed into

the sky.

He pushed his hood back, his nails scraping through his dirty hair. The tresses

wove through his fingers, staying that way even after his hands retreated back to

his sides. His heavy steps counted off a raging rhythm, not offering any kind of

solace in this dark space.

"Unforgivable," he mumbled, feeling a little freer when the word came out. He

tried it again, repeating the quiet chant over and over until it became the

background to his racing pulse and quick breaths.

With no thought to his actions, Edward ripped off his hoodie and threw it to the

ground. He slammed his head into the brick, cursing and withholding his need to

wail. His fists pounded at the brick, each punch leaving his knuckles more

scratched and torn. He didn't care, the pain was nothing and the scars would

heal. His blood would stain the building and someone would know he died here

this night.

Suddenly, the moon broke free from the clouds, casting a heavy silver light into

the alley. Edward froze, mesmerized by the grid patterned shadows created by

the building's fire escape. His gaze travelled up the shadow as if navigating a

maze, until a small, solid shape interrupted his path.

Bella sat still as a statue, her eyes fixated on the raging figure below. Somehow

she identified with his physical manifestation of anger and torment. She didn't

notice when the moon emerged, only when the boy stopped cold in his tracks as

if adhered to the ground. He spun around, his eyes immediately catching her

there. She gasped, sucking in the clean, midnight air into her polluted lungs. The

pencil slipped from her already loose grip, rolling across the metal and falling

over the edge.

As connected as she felt to the molded lead and wood, she did not watch it drop.

Instead, she stared down into the face of an angel. She'd never seen such a

beautiful, broken face and it took her breath away as he returned her gaze.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered the soft tapping of the pencil

hitting the ground; still she did not look away.

The ink covered skin of his shoulders and arms glistened in the moonlight that

bathed him. The images only interrupted by the thin wife beater now clinging to

his body. His hair stuck up in every direction, a seeming crown of thorns. Even

from high above, she could see the water trails carved into his cheeks. His

muscled chest heaved in a quick tempo and she fought hard to keep her own

breath calm.

They were two souls, snared by circumstance and slaves to the moon. Though

they did not feel like strangers.

A loud crash came from up the block and they both blinked, released from each

other in a defeated kind of way. Edward turned slowly from her as if she might

cease to exist if she wasn't in his sight. He retreated from the alley, back into the

dotted spotlights of the street and scampered back towards his home.

As soon as he'd gone, Bella flew down the steps of her building and retrieved his

abandoned hoodie from the alley. She'd wrapped herself in it that night and slept

like a child with no worries. Every day since, she'd worn the over-sized garment,

growing attached to it as if it were her long lost childhood friend. Bella knew

better though, she'd never had any childhood friends.

She ordered another rum and Coke as she impatiently awaited his arrival. It had

been pure luck that she'd found him here, bartending at this middle class

establishment. Bella had snuck in one night, looking for a release of any kind,

sexual or chemical, when she'd spotted him. She'd recognized his tattoos and

when he turned, she remembered his flawless face as well. It had been six

months, but the images had been burned into her memory on a cellular level.

Gone was the tortured boy in her alley, bleeding against the brick. This boy was

sexy and confident. He smiled the grin of a snake charmer, his own venom

pooled just below the surface. Bella recognized his façade, but made no move to

expose him. Instead, she shrank back into the dark corner of the bar, making

sure that he didn't see her.

It wasn't long before she learned his schedule and soon after, she saw him four

nights a week. But, he never saw her.

For the first time in her life, she wanted someone. She wanted to taste the salt of

his lips and trace the patterns on his skin. She wanted to live in his clothes and

saturate his space. Theirs was a complicated relationship existing only through

one-way glass and never shared equally amongst its participants. Bella liked it

better this way. She was not vulnerable this way. She felt anchored to him, but

not possessed.

Edward worked downtown at The Darkroom. He tended bar, mixed drinks and

flirted for tips. He lived his life as a being ensnared in another's body, an

undercover alien waiting for nothing in particular. This wasn't his plan. His life

should be different, better. He was alone and trapped in the city of the dead, with

only a 9mm and an addiction to literature and ink to save him.

"Looks like Creepy Girl is back," Rose said, sliding her tray onto the bar. "Same

as always, rum and Coke."

"You got it," he answered automatically.

"I wonder if she's like a serial killer or something. I mean, she never comes in

here with anyone, never leaves with anyone. She hardly speaks, just sits in that

dark corner, sipping her drink and scribbling in her notebook."

He placed the drink on the tray and shrugged. "Maybe she's plotting her next

bank heist."

"No way! She definitely doesn't have money. You should see the ratty old hoodie

she wears all the time. It's like three sizes too big for her. My bet is on serial

killer. I mean, she's really pretty, so I bet she could lure the unsuspecting guys in

with no problem."

Edward gave her a grin and sent her on her way, reaching his quota for small talk

this evening. He smirked as he pondered the behavior of Creepy Girl. She'd been

coming in for a few weeks now, always the same story. He'd never seen anything

but the back of her head, but all the waitresses had said she was attractive. He

didn't see anything wrong with someone wanting to be alone with their poison of

choice and their thoughts. Many times, Edward had locked himself into a solitary

drunken existence with only his thoughts to accompany him. He wasn't so sure

what solidified her status as creepy.

For the first time, he watched Rosalie deliver the drink, his curiosity peaked by

the stranger. She was cloaked in shadows and he could make out nothing but a

dark curtain of hair. He instantly recognized her posture and placement. Her

hiding was intentional. But, who was she hiding from?

Bella did not acknowledge the waitress as her new drink was dropped off; her

mind was preoccupied by the presence of him. She smirked to herself, knowing

that her fascination with this boy was unreasonable. Resigned to live up to her

nickname, she recognized that she'd left reason behind long ago.

Yes, she knew the name they'd branded her with, Creepy Girl. She'd overheard

two of the girls talking on their smoke break outside one night. They hadn't seen

Bella there as they mentioned her weird habits and her state of dress. She hadn't

been the subject of their conversation for long though, easily dismissed, as in

every other aspect of life.

Bella felt a burning fire on her face, a pull from across the room. She glanced up

to see his eyes on her. He was looking at her, really looking. Even though she

knew he couldn't see much, she felt as if he was dissecting her in front of a crowd

of onlookers.

After weeks, he had finally become interested in the strange girl with peculiar

habits. His muscled forearms leaned on the bar as his gaze stayed fixed to her

corner. Her only thoughts were contemplating an easy getaway. She'd have to

wait until he went on break to leave. It was the only way to escape his curious

gaze.

With no movement from her corner, Edward finally dropped his eyes back to the

bar, liberating his interest. He knew she was a creature of habit and wasn't going

anywhere anytime soon.

Hours passed, neither one of them giving up, not knowing what the prize would

be in this self-inflicted waiting game. By midnight, Edward couldn't take it

anymore and needed to step outside for some air. He let Mike know that he was

taking a break and headed out the back door for a smoke.

As soon as he was out of sight, Bella threw her money down on the table,

including a generous tip, and packed away her notebook. She slid from the booth,

hastily making her way outside. When the worn rubber soles of her Chucks hit

the sidewalk, she breathed a sigh of relief. Out here, she could disappear again.

Out here, she was no one.

Bella turned to make her way up the street, but was met by her boy lazily leaning

against the building. She sucked in air, almost choking on nothing, as his eyes

worked themselves up from her feet. When his gaze finally met hers, he gasped

too. Even after all this time, he recognized her. He knew the curve of her face

and her sympathetic eyes.

"You," he whispered, smoke escaping through his lips.

Edward dropped his cigarette, crushing it under the toe of his shoe, before

shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Before him stood a girl full of secrets

and history and he somehow knew that she was alone in the world. He took two

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