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The stench of rot couldn't compare to the horror and intensity of the fire, but the smell of was rather appropriate, Carlisle observed as the fire began to cool and he could once again think.
He was amazed he was still alive, let alone had any skin left. Surely the terrible fire had obliterated it all?
But he did, and it wasn't the same, he saw as he flexed his hands in wonder. This new skin he had was so much paler than he had previously been and hard like stone.
Cautiously standing, Carlisle looked around at his surroundings. He smelled the air again and grimaced, then froze as he remembered why he was here.
The hunt.
The chase in the alley.
The vampire.
He had wrought this terrible agony on Carlisle, and the fiend's horrifying crimson eyes would haunt Carlisle for eternity.
Carlisle turned to leave the cellar and caught his passing reflection in a puddle of dirty water. He took in his newly crimson eyes with fascination and horror.
He knew what made his eyes red, and that knowledge shamed him to the core of his being.
He knew he was now one of the evil fiends he had dedicated his life to ridding the world of, and there was only one honorable choice.
Carlisle wondered if God would overlook his suicide if he didn't want to become a murderer, or if he was already damned.
He supposed it didn't matter; if he continued to live this existence, he would eventually kill anyway.
He thought for a moment and decided to jump from the cliff that was at the edge of the woods at his home.
At least there he could die in a place that he had once called home, with his dignity and honor intact.

Carlisle looked up at the cliff he had jumped from in amazement.
Surely that should have killed him?
Instead he was just at the bottom, no injuries whatsoever.
He realized he couldn't be killed by jumping from great heights and decided to wait for dawn.
He had never seen a vampire in the sun and had faith that they couldn't survive the light.
But as the sun rose, his skin did not catch fire as he expected but remained unharmed, his skin shining like thousands of diamonds were embedded in his skin.
The scientist in him was intrigued by this.
What caused a vampire's skin to glow in the light?
Carlisle's thoughts were interrupted as he heard his father stir inside their home and get up to feed their livestock.
He saw his father stumble from the house and was shocked by the changes in him.
His father's eyes were red-rimmed and weary, his clothes rumpled.
He had clearly passed the night with a bottle of alcohol in his hand, though he always spoke out against it, thought it a sin.
Carlisle didn't retreat into the shadows fast enough and his father caught sight of him.
His father rubbed the back of his hands over his face in disbelief.
"Carlisle," he questioned uncertainly as he took in the light radiating from his son.
"I know those demons killed you. Have you become an angel of the Lord?''
Carlisle couldn't bear to tell his father the truth and decided to let him continue to think he was an angel.
"Yes father, I have," he lied.
After all, he wouldn't see him again since he didn't plan to live, or even if he did, he'd risk killing him in his thirst, so he couldn't.
He didn't expect his father to run forward and hug him.
Carlisle's newborn instincts instincts screamed to attack and he obeyed.
He ripped open his father's throat and drank what was left.
Blood sprayed over the countryside.
Blood stained Carlisle's eyes, red as Hellfire.
No one else knows what happened that day, because Carlisle can't bear to remember his first kill in his new life, or how the blood of the herd of deer he killed in the field that day wasn't the first blood he tasted...