Twilight: blood & brimstone

Edward hadn't returned to school.

Not for the rest of the day. Not the next morning.

Not even the one after that.

And Bella?

She noticed.

She tried to act normal, but it was there—in the way she stared at his empty seat in Biology, in the way she tapped her fingers against the table during lunch, in the way her eyes flickered toward the doors every time someone entered the cafeteria, hoping it would be him.

But it never was.

And I?

I was always there.

Lunch - Day Three Without Edward

I sat across from her again, just like before.

She didn't stop me.

Didn't question it.

Didn't even hesitate.

She just exhaled, her fingers playing with the edge of her sleeve, her food forgotten on the tray between us.

I watched her. Studied the shadows beneath her eyes, the tension in her shoulders, the way she bit her lower lip—nervous.

She wasn't sleeping well.

Because of him.

Or because of me?

I tilted my head. "You've been quiet."

She blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had been consuming her. "What?"

"You haven't said much today."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Just… thinking."

I smirked. "Dangerous habit."

Her lips twitched, but she didn't smile. Instead, her gaze dropped to the table. "I saw something I wasn't supposed to."

I hummed in amusement. "And what exactly do you think you saw?"

She hesitated.

Her fingers clenched slightly against the fabric of her sleeve.

"I don't know," she admitted.

I leaned forward slightly, letting my voice drop just enough to make her shiver. "Liar."

Her head snapped up.

Her heartbeat stuttered.

She swallowed, eyes locked onto mine, searching for something she couldn't name.

"You saw what he really is," I murmured. "Didn't you?"

She exhaled shakily. "He was… angry."

I chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

Her brows furrowed. "But he stopped. The others pulled him away before he did anything."

"Did they?" I asked, tilting my head. "Or did you stop him?"

Bella stiffened.

I leaned in just a little more, lowering my voice to a whisper. "He only broke out of it when he realized you were watching."

Her breath hitched.

Because she knew I was right.

Edward had been out of control. On the verge of violence. But the moment he saw Bella standing there, watching him like he was something terrifying, he had shut down.

Because he didn't want her to see that part of him.

The part that wasn't human.

Bella bit her lip again, struggling with something in her mind. "He's not… bad."

I smirked. "That's what you tell yourself?"

She glared at me. "I know you were pushing him. I know you wanted him to snap."

I grinned. "Of course I did."

Her jaw tightened. "Why?"

I leaned back, exhaling dramatically. "Because he's a liar."

Bella frowned.

I gestured toward the empty seat where Edward should have been sitting. "He pretends he's something he's not. He hides behind his golden eyes, behind his fragile morality, pretending he's better than what he is." I met her gaze, voice dropping lower. "But you've seen it now, haven't you?"

She inhaled sharply.

Because she had.

She had seen what was beneath the carefully crafted mask Edward wore.

She had seen what he was capable of.

And no matter how much she tried to push it away, she couldn't unsee it.

Bella swallowed hard. "He's not a monster."

I smiled. "Yet you're scared of him."

She froze.

Her fingers curled against the table, her knuckles turning white.

Because deep down, in a place she didn't want to acknowledge, she was scared.

Not just of Edward.

But of what that fear meant.

I stood up, stretching lazily. "Don't worry," I murmured. "You'll figure it out soon enough."

She looked up at me, her brown eyes filled with too many emotions, too many unanswered questions.

I smiled.

And then, just before walking away—

I whispered, "He's not coming back for you."

Her breath caught.

And as I disappeared into the crowd, I could feel it—

The first real seed of doubt sinking into her mind.

Edward Cullen was slipping through her fingers.

And I?

I was already there to take his place.