OKAY. So it has been a while since i updated anything or posted anything new. To all those loyal readers out there, I am ever so sorry and do hope that you can forgive me.

I was thinking today and i decided that i wanted to try a story on Carlisle. So this is all about Carlisle and his struggles. For right now it's going to be posted as a oneshot. If and when i come up with another idea or random thought for Carlisle i will create a new chapter for this story. I am already trying to come up with another chapter right now, so fingers crossed.

So if you want to add this to your alert list you can. That way you will know when the next chapter is out.

As a doctor there are certain things that you must learn from the moment you step foot into your first day of schooling. People die, it is your job to ease the pain. You cannot play God. You cannot save everyone. You cannot blame yourself when a patient doesn't make it, and it is not your place to grieve for every lost cause.

I'd spent many years attempting to combat what I was, move forward into a new life, or existence. I was not given a choice in whether I was to live or die, much like those terminal patients. But does that mean I was to succumb to the monster within? Should I simply give up without a fight? No. I have done what the average vampire is unable to do, what the average vampire is completely unwilling to do.

Instead of becoming a crazed beast, I chose to exist day after day, attempting to help those in need. It has taken me a great deal of time, but it was all so very worth it. And I was doing fairly well, if I could say so myself. The only problem was that I forgot the rules.

A dying mother turned to me in her last hours asking, begging, that I save her son. But how could I do that? Better yet how could she know that I could do that? It was that night in 1901 that I sacrificed what I had worked so hard to maintain. All to fulfill the wish of a dying stranger.

The boy was alone. His mother and father both taken by illness, and him on the verge of joining then. I thought back to my own transformation so many decades ago. The human memories nothing but a blury reminder of the pain that had come with the change. I was young and arrogant, and had foolishly fallen victim to those that I was dedicated to hunting.

I could not even be sure that I knew how to do this. I had researched it thoroughly after I decided that I could not kill myself. My venom must mix with his blood, and to do so I must bite him. I looked down at the innocent face of the dying boy. Yes, I longed for a companion to share in my way of life and to alleviate the depressing solitude, but he was no more then 17. The thought of ending his life to live an eternity as a monster was not a comforting idea, but what other choice did he have? It was either death by disease, or death to live again.

I was strong enough to follow in this line of work without being to affected by the scent of blood, but I was unsure of whether or not I would be able to control myself once the blood touched my lips. If I was to lose myself, the boy would die. Then again if I was to do nothing the boy would also die.

I contemplated my situation and decided that it was worth a try. Slowly I leaned down and sank my teeth into his neck. The taste of his blood was so strong, the feel of it in my mouth intoxicating. I do not know how, but I pulled away, caught my unnecessary breath and repeated the actions on his wrists and ankles. I hoped that the more places the venom entered the less time it would take for him to change and that he would be in that much less pain.

To my immense horror his pain was excruciating. He writhed and struggled against his restraints for three days. His screams haunting me everyday. I had taken his life, his blood and his soul. There are no words for the guilt that I felt.

When he opened his eyes I did what I could to comfort his confusion and bloodlust. I brought him animals to feed upon, and explained what he was. It quenched his thirst but not entirely, and I knew that. Never once did he complain, never once did he mention the pain he had suffered, and never once did he accuse me of robbing him of life.

I soon found that he could read my thoughts and instead of comforting him, he was assuring me. He saw in my mind the last moments of his mothers life, the promise she had asked me to make. He knew that had I not changed him he would have died and the guilt I felt for doing it. He knew that I had given him a chance to live again.

The years passed and he became accustomed to the way I did things. We had our arguments, like all do, but in the end we never stayed angry long. He left for some time, frustrated with his thirst for human blood, but returned to me ready to try again. He was the first in my family, my first friend, my first son. Together we lived and other joined us, whether by my venom or strange coincidence.

Today we live as a family of eight, and they will never know how happy I am for that dying strangers wish.

A/N Hope you like. PLEASE REVIEW. It helps keep my high spirited and you'll get updates and new stories faster that way.

P.s : ANYONE WHO HATES THE FACT THAT SCHOOL STARTS IN A WEEK put :( in your reviews.