Fatal Desires (twilight fanfiction)

Prologue: Soulless

I stare at the pair of black leather gloves resting on my nightstand with complete loathing. There they are mocking me, telling me that I can't live without them. And I hate them so much.

Because it's true.

This small scrap of clothing is basically a part of me. And it's true; I can't live without them. Well, technically the world can't live if I don't have them on. Trust me, it's happened before. I have to take every precaution before stepping out into the world. Just because I save plenty of lives with them doesn't mean I don't hate them; Because, trust me, I do.

Though I can't blame myself, I still do. It truly isn't my fault I was born with a curse. Or a "gift" as my father puts it. He's done research on people like me, people with "gifts". Every time I call it a curse he scolds me and tells me to never think of myself less than "gifted". Well, guess what dad. This so called "gift" just so happened to kill your wife. My mom. Do you still want to call it a "gift" now?

Though, of course, he refuses to believe it. Refuses to believe that he brought a monster into this world. That's what I am though, right? A monster. A monstrosity. A murderer. It fits the description. Death everywhere it walks. Or in my case, everywhere I touch.

I always ask myself why I was born this way. Was God mad at my parents? Did he make me this way for a purpose? Was it an accident, did he mean to curse someone else? Or was he just messing around and cursed me, just for the fun of it? There had to be some sort of explanation for this, yet my brain couldn't conjure one up.

I wonder what my mom is thinking about me in paradise. Does she even care about me? Is she sympathetic for me? Or does she not give a crap about the worthless monster she gave birth to? I wouldn't really blame her if so. I mean, she was technically a test subject. All she wanted was to touch a beautiful baby girl with a pure, whit soul. But instead she touched the arms of death in a baby blanket. I killed my own mother.

Soon after the incident, dad ran away with me. Away from Pheonix, Arizona, my birthtown. Now we live here in Forks, Washington. So after settling into our new home, my father started doing his own experiments. I would touch plant after plant, killing each one with my dreadful touch, trying to control my "gift". It was no use. I was just an abomination on legs. Nothing we did worked. After a while, we gave up on the idea of trying to fix me and settled for maximum clothing instead. It's a good thing it's always cold outside or I'd be sweltering like a person in a sauna.

I still don't understand why he took me away instead of just leaving me there to rot in a science facility, getting test samples taken out of me. Some part of me wants to say that it was because of love, but even I know how foolish that sounds. Who would love a soulless monster?

Yeah, I think of myself soulless. In fact I know I have no soul. What person who kills everything they touch would have a soul? It's just common sense. Do I feel bad about having no soul? Of course I do. Does that mean I won't accept it? No, I kinda have to. I have no other choice. I get so annoyed when my dad tells me to stop thinking of myself as a soulless monster because it doesn't make sense.

What kind of monster has a soul?