"Would you comfort me? Would you cry with me?" -Avril Lavigne 'How Does It Feel'

She cried alot these days.

Dry, tear-less, sobs were the most common sounds that ripped from her crack throat. They wouldn't blame her. They couldn't blame her.

Pain is when your best friend runs away, to a remote location in Alaska.

Pure, unadulterated agony is when you lose not only a sister, but the love of your life. The reason for your now, ever-lasting, existence.

Suicidal thoughts are your constant companions, as well as the twisted and horrifying flash-backs, seeing his perfect face crumpled in torture beyond your comprehension. Hearing the sickening crack of his inhumanly strong bones, paired with the dull thud as his granite body hits the ground.

Seeing his broken body and golden eyes, now a lifeless yellow, had torn her apart.

She fell. Her stomach flipped and dead heart broke, shattered into a million pieces, seeing the body of her husband, so burnt and mutilated. It was too much, she couldn't handle it, she couldn't keep the sadistic killer under control now.

A tortured, agonized cry escaped from her lips, followed by a feral snarl.

She threw herself at the god forsaken monster, her own personal, red-eyed demon.

She had nothing to lose but her life, which would be a welcome comfort.

She had nothing to gain but the sound of the vampire's body being ripped to shreds, knowing that Edward, her Edward, would be avenged.

As she had lost a sister, that meant another had lost a love. He was most often absent from family meetings and even from the house. His attempts at death were much less frequent than hers, but he was also more quiet than her, and that scared the rest of them greatly. They knew he just might snap one day, and then they'd lose him.

He found that it was a struggle to make it through every day, to not just give in to the darkness, and let himself drown in memories. Every laugh, every kiss, every smile he remembered, was like another scar that lattices his pale arms, a vicious reminder that she was gone. No longer would he be able to bury his face in the erratic spikes of her inky, black hair. No longer would he see the sparkle in her tawny eyes as she submerged from a vision.

He sank to the ground next to the small, lifeless body. His eyes were bleak and his mouth was parted in a cry that never came. "Alice…" He moaned and fell over her, his body shaking, as his arm created a shield over the fallen angel he'd once called his. "Oh, Alice." He whispered mournfully against the crook of her neck. He waited. For her arms to twine around his neck. For the gentle whisper, "It's okay, Jazz.", against his ear. For the hot sting of tears in his eyes. Alas, none would come.