Disclaimer: I do not own twilight or any of it's characters

The burning may have been the same... but the thoughts behind the flames were not...

Carlisle: Survival

London, England 1663

Burning.

Burning.

Burning...

I could just about hear the screams from a man behind me. He had been attacked too? He was probably dead now. Am I dead? Is the burning I can feel the fires of hell pulling me down towards my fate? But I have always been so good, so moral, the son of a pastor. But I have killed, have I not? I may have not lit the fire myself, but I had hunted them, helped to find them. Witches, werewolves... Vampires. I found them for my father, to earn his love. I did not enjoy the act of taking life – no matter how evil these beings were, or what they had done to deserve this punishment. I had always worried if they were or weren't what they were claimed to be. And even if they were, did that mean that they deserved to die? So many women died at the hands of my father. Forgive me God. Forgive me for what I had done. But the burning did not stop. It continued, spreading throughout my body.

The footsteps of my fellow hunters drifted off towards the distance and I wondered how many of them would also die tonight.

A cold hand turned my head. "He's still alive." The voice gasped. "Carlisle? Who did this to you?"

I'm alive? No! I wanted to shout! No I'm not! But all that came out of my mouth was a piercing screech, affirming the voice's words. I was still alive.

"He's been attacked! By one of them! Didn't you see?" Another voice screamed. "You know what we have to do now don't you?"

I knew. I knew far too well. The body of anyone that was said to be attacked by a vampire was destroyed. Burned. The ashes scattered in the wind. Would this too be my fate?

"But it's the pastor's son! Surely that's sinful on some level?" The first voice said, stuttering. "He'll know what to do. We shall get him immediately. I'm not being sent to hell."

They too had left me, left me in the silence, left me to wait for my father to return and surely sentence me to my death. I could not let this happen. I could feel a sudden drive in my body, forcing me to preserve my life. Survival. I was fighting for survival.

I could feel my body leaving me. It would not be long before I was incapacitated, paralysed by the pain. This would lead to my death, to my murder. I would be murdered by my father. This image itself was enough to encourage my body to move. He would be forever tormented by that action, for I was positive that he would do it. I would not cause him pain, even in death. My arm reached out, pulling my body onto my side. I could see – not too far way – a small door. It was an entrance to a cellar. A place I knew was used as storage by a local farmer. I started to crawl over towards it, hoping that it was currently being used and not empty. My vision was blurry, due to the pain I assumed, but as I opened the wooden door I could see a large mound of potatoes. I looked behind me, checking to see if I had –without knowing – left a trail of my own blood following me, showing my hiding place. In the dark distance I could see beacons of light heading this way. They were torches, belonging to my father's group. I had little time.

I closed the door behind me and buried myself in the vegetable pile, letting the infection spread. The smell was unintelligible; these potatoes had been left here for some time. Had the owner of this stock fallen victim to these monsters? He had lived and worked so close to their layer.

Monsters, I repeated to myself. That is what I was becoming. But only temporarily. Just because I didn't want my father to kill me didn't mean that I didn't want to die. I could not allow myself to continue to survive, for my survival would mean death for others. As soon as there was no danger of anyone finding me, I would escape and find a way to kill myself.

"Where is he?" It was the voice of my father.

"He – he was right here!" The voice that had spoken to me earlier said.

"Maybe the beast returned to take him again." The other one spoke.

"Carlisle!" My farther screamed. "Carlisle!" Again.

"What do you want us to do?" The first voice said again.

"Search for him. Find him. Bring him to me." My father replied.

"But what if he's..." The second voice whimpered.

"Don't be such a simpleton! Even if he was... infected... he won't turn for another three days. You know that!" My father balled at the two men.

"That's if he is still alive." The other man whispered.

"Go! Now!" My father screamed.

I could hear two sets of footsteps running off, followed by the sound of my father's sobs. The sound was enough to almost make me forget about the burning that was still forcing its way through my body. Almost.

Suddenly a creaking sound came from the wooden door separating me from the world. A shred of moonlight sliced through the room. Someone was here. I was sure that I was now incapable of moving. This was it now, I would not be able to escape anymore. I would either be found and killed, or left and transformed.

"Son?" The voice whispered. My father. He hardly ever called me son, always Carlisle. The word provoked a strong emotion within me. I loved my father dearly and was so sorry that he would have to lose me.

My father sighed, closing the door behind him as he left. It appeared as though my father had decided my fate, and for that I was thankful. He would not have to kill his only son and then lie to my mother about my death. Instead he would go back and tell her the truth, that I had been taken and most likely killed. By doing this she would encourage – no beg- him to keep hunting and keep killing the beings that took her son's life... and he would. I prayed silently, hoping that he would not be killed fulfilling her wishes.

***

The burning continued for the next three days. I prayed and prayed to God, asking him to end it. I continually screamed internally, not wanting anyone to know I was here. The pain was excruciating. How could a God so benevolent allow such suffering? Was I even being cared by him anymore? Had I fallen from his loving grasp into the clutches of hell? No. No! God would never give up on me. This burning was punishment for my sins. And I would endure it. Soon I would walk alongside him in the kingdom of heaven, and all would be well.

As time went on, my senses sharpened. The smell emanating from the rotten potatoes was dire, becoming more disgusting every second. I could hear the footsteps of people walking along the street outside my own personal sanctuary. I could hear conversations from people in houses yards away from this small, isolated shed. I could hear the cries from my mother after my father had called off the search. I could hear the prayers she was saying from her knees at the spot where I had last been seen.

"Father in heaven, please look after my dear son, my beautiful, intelligent, moral son. Comfort him when he is sad and rejoice with him when he is happy. Do not let him fret when he looks down on us, but instead lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and assure him of our love for him. Tell him that one day, I will once again be by his side and walk with you both through the kingdom of heaven. Amen."

Her words brought tears to my eyes, but they would not shed. They just stayed there, behind my eyes. It was then that I realised that I would never again shed a tear for the ones that I have lost, for the ones that I have left behind.

My time in this catatonic state gave me time to fully reflect on my life. On the choices I had made, on my accomplishments, on my regrets. I regret that I would never find love. I regret that I would never be able to have a family, the two things that I have always wished for. A wife to dote on every day for the rest of my life, to love passionately for the rest of my existence and a son of my own to pass on my wisdom, to teach him the ways of the lord, just like my father did to me. I was only twenty-three, but there were many men my age that had these things. How I envied them.

***

I had no idea how long it took as time seemed to have little meaning for me, but eventually the burning eased. My toes were the first to be free of the pain, and ultimately, but very slowly, this continued up my body. I expected the pain to ease upon my heart, but instead it stayed... it even increased, building up in my chest. For the second time in three days I gave into the fire and screamed. The sound was unlike any that I had heard before. It was not human. It was... beastly. It showed me in one second what it was that I had become. I prayed still that no one would come to investigate. As the screamed decreased in volume, I eventually found my body again. I could move. The pain increased still. Building up. Unbearable. I flew out of the foul smelling heap of potatoes and threw myself into the wall, breaking it in the process, revealing the edge of the forest lit only by the moonlight, but I could still see every leaf for a few miles at least. I fell to my knees as my heart finally stuttered to a stop.

Then, there was nothing. There was nothing, but there was also so much. So many colours, even in the apparent darkness. So many sounds, even in the loneliness of the night. So many... smells... and with that, I ran. The speed at which I took off was outstanding. I had never seen anything move this quickly. But despite the speed, I could still see every detail of every object around me. Every leaf, every speck of dirt, every animal – big and small – that were running away from my presence.

I didn't know where I was going. I just wanted to find an isolated place to plan my death. I would not become the monster that seemed even now to be so natural. I will not hurt the people I know. I will not hurt anybody... apart from myself.

***

My hope was fading. My attempts of death had all failed. I had thrown myself off a church roof – ironically. It was, by law, the tallest building in these towns. Tall enough to kill any man that fell from its peak. But instead of falling, my body landed, on my feet, perfectly, without a sound. I tried again, forcing myself to take the full impact on my back and again on my head. Both times the only injured party what the stone floor.

I had thought that maybe this wasn't a tall enough height. I had run to Scotland, just about remembering the stories of the tall hills, mountains and cliffs. I endeavoured once again, the same tactics I had used before, but the same results came about. This was not affecting me or this stone like body at all.

My last try had landed me on by the seas edge. It was once again night and the moonlight was reflecting beautifully on the water... the water... A new idea occurred to me, and I was ashamed that I had not thought of it earlier. I ran into the water immediately and without hesitating took in a breath full of water. As it filled my lungs I rejoiced, so thankful that it was finally over. But it finally turned sour. As I instinctively breathed out, the water just left my lungs. I tried again – taking a bigger breath in. But the water acted as though it was the finest air. There were many things I had yet to learn about this species, but I prayed once again that I would never have to... However, it appeared as though I was quickly running out of ideas.

***

The sun had set two hundred and eighteen times since my last attempt to end my existence. I had given up and tried to starve myself from the blood that I craved. I found a cave and dug a hole inside of it with my hands. I buried myself with dirt, sticks and twigs. The effort to preserve life had taken its toll on me. The fire in my throat was close to the fire that had ripped its way through my body all of those days ago. I had caught my reflection in the river before I had hidden here – my eyes were as black as charcoal. I looked awful, a being without a shred of humanity within him. I had been here for so long. How long would I have to stay before I would die?

Suddenly I was flying through the forest, with no command or permission from my mind. I tried to comprehend what was happening, but I could not identify any thoughts. As quick as it had happened, it was suddenly over. I was still. My throat was tamed significantly. I had tasted blood. I had killed. I had succumbed to the monster within me. The monster that I never wanted to be. The monster that I had tried so hard to fight. But as my vision returned to me, I was able to see that the being that had met its end had not been a human... it was a deer. My conscience started to glow within me and for the first time in a long while, I smiled.