This is a rewrite of the original Forgiven. I decided to make it better. The first part is from New Moon, when Edward is leaving Bella. The change is from Breaking Dawn, excluding the parts about Nessie. The rest is mine. I own nothing. Please review when you finish reading.
Chapter One
Some walk.
Edward leaned against a tree and stared at me, his expression unreadable.
"Okay, let's talk," I said. It sounded braver than it felt.
He took a deep breath.
"Bella, we're leaving."
I took a deep breath, too. This was an acceptable option. I thought I was prepared. But I still had to ask.
"Why now? Another year–"
"Bella, it's time. How much longer could we stay in Forks, after all? Carlisle can barely pass for thirty, and he's claiming thirty-three now. We'd have to start over soon regardless."
His answer confused me. I thought the point of leaving was to let his family live in peace.
Why did we have to leave if they were going? I stared at him, trying to understand what he meant.
He stared back coldly.
With a roll of nausea, I realized I'd misunderstood.
"When you say we–," I whispered.
"I mean my family and myself." Each word separate and distinct.
I shook my head back and forth mechanically, trying to clear it. He waited without any sign of impatience. It took a few minutes before I could speak.
"Okay," I said. "I'll come with you."
"You can't, Bella. Where we're going… It's not the right place for you."
"Where you are is the right place for me."
"I'm no good for you, Bella."
"Don't be ridiculous." I wanted to sound angry, but it just sounded like I was begging. "You're the very best part of my life."
"My world is not for you," he said grimly.
"What happened with Jasper–that was nothing, Edward! Nothing!"
"You're right," he agreed. "It was exactly what was to be expected."
"You promised! In Phoenix, you promised that you would stay–"
"As long as that was best for you," he interrupted to correct me.
"No! This is about my soul, isn't it?" I shouted, furious, the words exploding out of me–somehow it still sounded like a plea. "Carlisle told me about that, and I don't care, Edward. I don't care! You can have my soul. I don't want it without you–it's yours already!"
He took a deep breath and stared, unseeingly, at the ground for a long moment. His mouth twisted the tiniest bit. When he finally looked up, his eyes were different, harder–like the liquid gold had frozen solid.
"Bella, I don't want you to come with me."
He spoke the words slowly and precisely, his cold eyes on my face, watching as I absorbed what he was really saying.
There was a pause as I repeated the words in my head a few times, sifting through them for their real intent.
"You… don't… want me?"
I tried out the words, confused by the way they sounded, placed in that order.
"No."
I stared, uncomprehending, into his eyes. He stared back without apology. His eyes were like topaz–hard and clear and very deep. I felt like I could see into them for miles and miles, yet nowhere in their bottomless depths could I see a contradiction to the word he'd spoken.
"Well, that changes things." I was surprised by how calm and reasonable my voice sounded.
It must be because I was so numb. I couldn't realize what he was telling me. It still didn't make any sense.
He looked away into the trees as he spoke again. "Of course, I'll always love you… in a way. But what happened the other night made me realize that it's time for a change. Because I'm… tired of pretending to be something I'm not, Bella. I am not human." He looked back, and the icy planes of his perfect face were not human.
"I've let this go on much too long, and I'm sorry for that."
"Don't." My voice was just a whisper now; awareness was beginning to seep through me, trickling like acid through my veins. "Don't do this."
He just stared at me, and I could see from his eyes that my words were far too late. He already had.
"You're not good for me, Bella." He turned his earlier words around, and so I had no argument. How well I knew that I wasn't good enough for him.
I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it again. He waited patiently, his face wiped clean of all emotion. I tried again.
"If… that's what you want."
He nodded once.
My whole body went numb. I couldn't feel anything below the neck.
"I would like to ask one favor, though, if that's not too much," he said.
I wonder what he saw on my face, because something flickered across his own face in response. But, before I could identify it, he'd composed his features into the same serene mask.
"Anything," I vowed, my voice faintly stronger.
As I watched, his frozen eyes melted. The gold became liquid again, molten, burning down into mine with an intensity that was overwhelming.
"Don't do anything reckless or stupid," he ordered, no longer detached. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I nodded helplessly.
His eyes cooled, the distance returned. "I'm thinking of Charlie, of course. He needs you. Take care of yourself–for him."
I nodded again. "I will," I whispered.
He seemed to relax just a little.
"And I'll make you a promise in return," he said. "I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I'd never existed."
My knees must have started to shake, because the trees were suddenly wobbling. I could hear the blood pounding faster than normal behind my ears. His voice sounded farther away.
He smiled gently. "Don't worry. You're human–your memory is no more than a sieve. Time heals all wounds for your kind."
"And your memories?" I asked. It sounded like there was something stuck in my throat, like I was choking.
"Well"–he hesitated for a short second–"I won't forget. But my kind… we're very easily distracted."
He smiled; the smile was tranquil and it did not touch his eyes.
He took a step away from me. "That's everything, I suppose. We won't bother you again."
The plural caught my attention. That surprised me; I would have thought I was beyond noticing anything.
"Alice isn't coming back," I realized.
I don't know how he heard me–the words made no sound–but he seemed to understand.
He shook his head slowly, always watching my face.
"No. They're all gone. I stayed behind to tell you goodbye."
"Alice is gone?" My voice was blank with disbelief.
"She wanted to say goodbye, but I convinced her that a clean break would be better for you."
I was dizzy; it was hard to concentrate. His words swirled around in my head, and I heard the doctor at the hospital in Phoenix, last spring, as he showed me the X-rays. You can see it's a clean break, his finger traced along the picture of my severed bone. That's good. It will heal more easily, more quickly.
I tried to breathe normally. I needed to concentrate, to find a way out of this nightmare.
"Goodbye, Bella," he said in the same quiet, peaceful voice.
"Wait!" I choked out the word, reaching for him, willing my deadened legs to carry me forward.
I thought he was reaching for me, too. But his cold hands locked around my wrists and pinned them to my sides. He leaned down, and pressed his lips very lightly to my forehead for the briefest instant. My eyes closed.
"Take care of yourself," he breathed, cool against my skin.
There was a light, unnatural breeze. My eyes flashed open. The leaves on a small vine maple shuddered with the gentle wind of his passage.
He was gone.
With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I followed him into the forest.
The evidence of his path had disappeared instantly. There were no footprints, the leaves were still again, but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him, it was over.
Love, life, meaning… over.
I walked and walked. Time made no sense as I pushed slowly through the thick undergrowth. It was hours passing, but also only seconds. Maybe it felt like time had frozen because the forest looked the same no matter how far I went. I started to worry that I was traveling in a circle, a very small circle at that, but I kept going. I stumbled often, and, as it grew darker and darker, I fell often, too.
Finally, I tripped over something–it was black now, I had no idea what caught my foot–and I stayed down. I rolled onto my side, so that I could breathe, and curled up on the wet bracken.
I heard a noise close by, a twig snapping. As if someone had stepped on it and frozen. I stayed in my ball, feeling empty inside. As if there was now a black hole where my heart once was. I curled up into an even tighter ball, trying to fend off the pain. Why would he do that? Why couldn't he just change me? Oh that's right. He didn't want me.
I felt a presence next to me. Whoever had stepped on the twig was now next to me.
"You poor girl." said the person. A woman. "You want to be just like him, don't you?" She asked. I vaguely felt my head nodding. "Then I shall change you." At that I looked up.
She was beautiful, of course. Her hair was white, with black underneath. She looked to be about seventeen. I looked at her eyes, and saw topaz. Just like his. My eyes filled with tears. She smiled at me, and took a syringe out, filled with a strange liquid. Venom. I thought to myself.
"Take this." she said, handing me two pills. I looked at her, questioning. "Morphine." she said. I took the pills in my hand. She handed me a water bottle. I took the pills, and as soon as I felt my body becoming numb, she injected the venom into my heart.
I felt a sudden warmth inside my heart. It was comforting for a moment. But soon,
the warmth beside my heart got more and more real, warmer and warmer. Hotter. The heat was so real it was hard to believe that I was imagining it.
Hotter.
Uncomfortable now. Too hot. Much, much too hot.
Like grabbing the wrong end of a curling iron—my automatic response was to drop the scorching thing in my arms. But there was nothing in my arms. My arms were not curled to my chest. My arms were dead things lying some where at my side. The heat was inside me.
The burning grew—rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I'd ever felt.
I felt the pulse behind the fire raging now in my chest and realized that I'd found my heart again, just in time to wish I never had. To wish that I'd embraced the blackness while I'd still had the chance. I wanted to raise my arms and claw my chest open and rip the heart from it—anything to get rid of this torture. But I couldn't feel my arms, couldn't move one vanished finger.
James, snapping my leg under his foot.
That was nothing. That was a soft place to rest on a feather bed. I'd take that now, a hundred times. A hundred snaps. I'd take it and be grateful.
The fire blazed hotter and I wanted to scream. To beg for someone to kill me now, before I lived one more second in this pain. But I couldn't move my lips. The weight was still there, pressing on me.
I realized it wasn't the darkness holding me down; it was my body. So heavy. Burying me in the flames that were chewing their way out from my heart now, spreading with impossible pain through my shoulders and stomach, scalding their way up my throat, licking at my face.
Why couldn't I move? Why couldn't I scream? This wasn't part of the stories.
My mind was unbearably clear—sharpened by the fierce pain—and I saw the answer almost as soon as I could form the questions.
The morphine.
I hadn't guessed that the morphine would have this effect—that it would pin me down and gag me. Hold me paralyzed while I burned.
I knew all the stories. I knew that Carlisle had kept quiet enough to avoid discovery while he burned. I knew that, according to Rosalie, it did no good to scream. And I'd hoped that maybe I could be like Carlisle. That I would believe Rosalie's words and keep my mouth shut. Because I knew that every scream that escaped my lips would torment Edward, were he watching through Alice's visions.
All I wanted was to die. To never have been born. The whole of my existence did not outweigh this pain. Wasn't worth living through it for one more heartbeat.
Let me die, let me die, let me die.
And, for a never-ending space, that was all there was. Just the fiery torture, and my soundless shrieks, pleading for death to come. Nothing else, not even time. So that made it infinite, with no beginning and no end. One infinite moment of pain.
The only change came when suddenly, impossibly, my pain was doubled. The lower half of my body, deadened since before the morphine, was suddenly on fire, too. Some broken connection had been healed—knitted together by the scorching fingers of the flame.
The endless burn raged on.
It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but, eventually, time came to mean something again.
Three things happened together, grew from each other so that I didn't know which came first: time restarted, the morphine's weight faded, and I got stronger.
I could feel the control of my body come back to me in increments, and those increments were my first markers of the time passing. I knew it when I was able to twitch my toes and twist my fingers into fists. I knew it, but I did not act on it.
Though the fire did not decrease one tiny degree—in fact, I began to develop a new capacity for experiencing it, a new sensitivity to appreciate, separately, each blistering tongue of flame that licked through my veins—I discovered that I could think around it.
I had just enough strength to lie there unmoving while I was charred alive.
My hearing got clearer and clearer, and I could count the frantic, pounding beats of my heart to mark the time.
I could count the shallow breaths that gasped through my teeth.
I continued to get stronger, my thoughts clearer. When new noises came, I could listen.
Through all this, the racking fire went right on burning me. But there was so much space in my head now. Room to ponder their conversation, room to remember what had happened, room to look ahead to the future, with still endless room left over to suffer in.
How many more seconds would I burn? Ten thousand? Twenty? Another day—eighty-six thousand, four hundred? More than that?
It seemed as if I must be just a pile of charred bones by now. Every cell in my body had been razed to ash.
Twenty-one thousand, nine hundred seventeen and a half seconds later, the pain changed.
On the good-news side of things, it started to fade from my fingertips and toes.
Fading slowly, but at least it was doing something new. This had to be it. The pain was on its way out…
And then the bad news. The fire in my throat wasn't the same as before. I wasn't only on fire, but I was now parched, too. Dry as bone. So thirsty. Burning fire, and burning thirst
Also bad news: The fire inside my heart got hotter.
How was that possible?
My heartbeat, already too fast, picked up—the fire drove its rhythm to a new frantic pace.
The fire retreated from my palms, leaving them blissfully pain-free and cool. But it retreated to my heart, which blazed hot as the sun and beat at a furious new speed.
My wrists were free, though, and my ankles. The fire was totally extinguished there.
The fire ripped hotter still through my chest, draining in from my elbows and knees. Better not to chance it.
And then—oh!
My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained note; it felt like it would grind through my ribs. The fire flared up in the center of my chest, sucking the last remnants of the flames from the rest of my body to fuel the most scorching blaze yet. The pain was enough to stun me, to break through my iron grip on the stake. My back arched, bowed as if the fire was dragging me upward by my heart.
I allowed no other piece of my body to break rank as my torso slumped back to the table.
It became a battle inside me—my sprinting heart racing against the attacking fire. Both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed everything that was combustible; my heart galloped toward its last beat.
The fire constricted, concentrating inside that one remaining human organ with a final, unbearable surge. The surge was answered by a deep, hollow-sounding thud.
My heart stuttered twice, and then thudded quietly again just once more.
There was no sound. No breathing. Not even mine.
For a moment, the absence of pain was all I could comprehend.
And then I opened my eyes and gazed above me in wonder.
