Disclaimer: Carlisle Cullen and Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Note: "Day 87" was written for a 100 Theme Challenge that I took from the Twilight-Fanfiction group on deviantArt. The very first theme is "Introduction," which is what this piece is inspired by. To me, "introduction" meant the first time the Cullen way of life began, which, of course, started with Carlisle. This is my idea of what might have happened that fateful day he decided to lead a "vegetarian" lifestyle.

It was a Monday—December 24, 1666 to be exact—exactly 87 days since my transformation, assuming that my mental calendar was correct, and I'm sure it was. And it was like any other day of my wretched, immortal life. Outside the small, dank cave that had become my 'home', the winter winds raged, howling as they blew over its overhang. I was well aware of the below freezing temperature, as well as creeping wall of snow, to my back, but I wasn't bothered by either. My immortal body was immune to the side-effects of cold temperatures, though I wished the opposite was the case at this time.

As per a typical day, I was curled into a tight ball, as still as a perfectly sculpted marble statue. My superior mind told me that I had been in this position for an inhumanly amount of time: 24 days exactly. But I refused to move (in any case, the lack of movement didn't seem to bother me anymore). It was the only way I could control the insatiable thirst that burned deeply in the hollow of my throat, waiting for the chance to overpower me with primal instincts. And those instincts would win soon, I was sure. And when they did, I would be taking the life of a human, just as I had cruelly been robbed of mine. Though in this person's case, he or she would cease to exist completely, rather than living a tormented life like myself.

A shudder when down my spine as the thought went through my head. I wasn't looking forward to that day when I would fulfill my undesired destiny. Out of habit, I wrapped my arms more tightly around my legs, forcing my thighs even closer to my chest. My fingers dug into my deep brown trousers, pushing into my marble skin, though not enough to cause any pain. I didn't need to give myself a reason to relinquish my hold.

I didn't want to admit it, but my self-control was waning once again. The pain in my throat was always increasing, even when it already seemed like it couldn't get any worse. Had I been human, it would have been more than easy to distract my newly, always-working mind from the pain, albeit with a considerable effort. I was no longer human, however, and as such, my human mind had changed. It had grown stronger and more advanced. I couldn't distract my mind from the burning in my throat, even with mindless activity like counting sheep (the count was at 102,349,267,853 sheep and still increasing, by the way). My mind could easily count sheep while simultaneously focus on the excruciating burning in my throat.

I tightened the lock of my muscles as the burning in my throat grew even more as I thought about it.

How long would my misery last? I wondered at this, in an attempt to alleviate the mental pain of my situation and dilute the physical pain in my throat. Within a week of being transformed, I had tried my very best to completely eradicate myself from this world. That was how I had learned of many, if not all, of my new, immortal powers. My body had to have been one of the strongest substances in the world, a fact that I had learned from throwing myself off a cliff and completely damaging the ground around me, without a single scratch to myself. I didn't have to breathe—I had learned this from attempting to drown myself and finding that, though uncomfortable, my lungs could fill with water without killing me. Sleep also wasn't acquired or even possible; ergo, dying from exhaustion had been scratched off my list. Heck, even the sun couldn't kill me, though it certainly annoyed me as it reflected off every centimeter of my skin, casting light all around me.

Starvation had been my final act of attempted suicide and, begrudgingly, I had to admit that wasn't working out as well, either. Though I hadn't moved an inch from my spot in my cave for 24 days, I knew that my strength had not waned in the least. If I had so desired, I could completely destroy the forest around me with the same strength I had been transformed with. And, at times, I wanted to do just that for it would relieve all of this pent up irritation. But I didn't move and I was in the process of convincing myself that I would never move. Never was a long time, though, and though I had changed drastically, the dread of being immobile for an eternity was difficult to accept.

I couldn't think of any other options of killing myself. It seemed to me that I was the strongest being on Earth, and if that was the case, what could possibly kill me? Another being like me could, my quick mind answered quickly. But my kind lived near humans, waiting in the shadows for the time that they could strike, drinking every last drop of its victim's blood. If I sought another of my kind, I would be closer to mankind, and then there would be nothing to stop me from being every bit as evil as my counterparts.

And so I lay in my pathetic fetal position, waiting for the world to end or for an innocent, unknowing human to fatally cross my path. For both my and the human's sake, I hoped it was the former.

ooo

It was late in the afternoon when my disposition changed. The wind had shifted (which wasn't unusual for winter in London), blowing away from me to toward me. I could suddenly smell a herd of deer. More specifically, I could smell the rich, wet blood coursing through their veins. Instantly, my throat burst into a flame hotter than any other I had experienced before. The sudden need to quench my thirst overpowered my rational, if not slightly deranged, mind. Before I could even attempt to think about what I would do next, my arms relinquished their hold and I jumped to my feet in a matter of nanoseconds. Then I launched myself toward the scent that made the burning in my throat so intense that it throbbed painfully.

I was no longer Carlisle Cullen, the calm, rational thinking being. I was a predator, focused only on my prey. And I was going to catch it.

The herd of deer wasn't far from my cave, 2 or 3 kilometers at most. They didn't even hear my light footsteps that barely depressed the snow due to the high velocity I was running at. They also didn't hear me as I launched myself at the nearest of the herd, which happened to be a doe. My marble body was too strong for her, and she buckled underneath my weight as I jumped on her back and pinned her to the ground. Before the doe could even make a startled cry, my teeth sank into her thick-furred neck.

Thick, rich blood flowed into my mouth, sliding down my throat and pooling around the burn. Though the doe's blood was hot on my tongue, it instantly began cooling the hollow of my throat. I drank ravenously, savoring the coolness that pooled in my throat. Vaguely I was aware of the god-awful taste of her blood. There was an acidic edge to her blood that left such a bitter aftertaste that I wanted to rinse my mouth with water. But I easily ignored this revulsion. The soothing feeling to my throat was far more valued than the horrible taste.

The deer's blood was drained in only a matter of minutes and by that time, the herd had discovered it was in danger and had scattered in a terrified frenzy. Even though they were quickly dispersing into the forest, my keen senses could still detect them, regardless of the distance or the direction, and I launched myself at the next deer, repeating the same process without much thought.

Tracking, hunting, and devouring the remainder of the herd took little time. Less than half an hour, in fact. When I had finished drinking the blood of the eighth and final deer, the smell of blood had dissipated from the forest, leaving only the memory of it in its place. Crisp, fresh oxygen flowed through my body, relieving me from my bloodthirsty state. It was the first time since I had hunted that my thoughts were at the forefront of my brain, and I registered many things.

First: I was a complete and utter mess. My deep brown trousers were torn in a few places, caked in wet and dried mud and dirt, and stained black with the herd's blood. My white shirt had fared even worse than my trousers, covered almost completely in a mixture of black, red, and brown. I was also covered in blood- and dirt-stained snow, which would never melt because I was just as cold as it was. I couldn't see my face or my light blond hair, but I was sure they looked very similar. But my disarray of clothing didn't concern me at the moment.

Second, and more importantly: my thirst had been all but extinguished. I was well aware of a tingling in the base of my throat, but it was nothing compared to the burning before. Iit was easy enough to ignore.

Third, and this was the thought I focused the most on: animal blood could sustain me. And this led to an even more profound thought.

I didn't have to be a monster.

Suddenly, my whole perspective on life changed. Less than an hour ago, I had been damned to a life of unjustified murders, being the cruelest and most disturbing creature on Earth. Now, I was at least only half-damned, but I couldn't change the kind of creature I was. Or I didn't think I could, at least.

For the first time in 87 days, I felt hopeful. I was still a despicable, blood-thirsty creature, a being that I loathed with every fiber of my being. But I wasn't, and didn't have to be, like the others of my kind. I didn't have to kill humans just to survive. I could be a rational-thinking, civilized being. And maybe, as a civilized being, I could discover some kind of way to either destroy or cure myself and every other vampire.

I didn't have to be a monster. And I wasn't going to be.

It was also the first time in 87 days that I felt like Carlisle Cullen again. The flame of life in me, that had previously been extinguished, burned magnificently at the thought of what I could do. No longer was eternity a burden. In fact, eternity seemed like a short amount of time to live and to learn. And oh how much I had to learn!

Of course, I couldn't venture into London quite yet to start my self-education. My lack of control at a passing herd of deer was an attribute to that. But once my self-control was better and strong enough that I could be around humans, then I would re-enter London as Carlisle Cullen, an aficionado of knowledge. Maybe I could even become a savant in a field. And maybe I could even use my immortal talents to aid mankind somehow.

And with those thoughts in mind, I made my way back to my cave to sit and ponder my next move in my immortal life.

Note: I'm looking for beta readers, if anyone is interested. You would basically be reading my stories before I submit them, checking for spelling and grammar errors, inconsistencies, or really out of character moments. Please send me a message if you're interested! Thanks!