A/N: All characters are the property and creation of Stephenie Meyer, I am grateful for them.
There are some terms in the story that I will define. I work overnights in a hospital emergency room and it was difficult to not write some of scenes and thoughts as realistic as possible. I tried to cut back, but reality is cold, dark and real-even in a traumatic situation.
Hypovolemia or Hypovolaemia-decrease in blood volume, specifically plasma. It can be a lot more complicated, but I decided not to take it there.
Glasgow Coma Scale-a number scale that is used to assess head injuries. An emergency technician, or in our case Carlisle, could have made this assessment when he was giving first aid to Bella. Knowing this is important for emergency treatment of severe head injuries or traumatic brain injuries.
If you have any questions or find it is too technical, please feel free to contact me.
I would like to give a huge thanks to ECABSand Butterscotch for the awesome beta reads, the ideas and listening to all my medical jargon.
The Darkest Waters
"You can sleep, sweetheart, I'll carry you," I soothed, feeling thankful she was alive. Her weak voice was so desperate for relief. I lifted Bella up off the floor and into my arms, cradling her against my chest. The moment she was safe in my arms, my heart felt like it crashed to the floor—Bella was not yet out of danger.
"Sleep now, Bella," I spoke as she succumbed to her drug-induced sleep.
I felt the frantic need to remove her, and myself, from the blood-laden ballet studio. My eyes absorbed—more like vividly burned—the horrific sight permanently to my photographic memory: the blood-covered glass shattered across the floor, her blood, dark and red, pooled on the hardwood dance floor. I gently tucked her closer to my chest, holding her as still as possible in her fragile state. Her bleeding scalp rested against my cold chest as I stabilized her leg with one arm. At least she's unconscious, not suffering, for the moment. My body felt dead inside, cold, angry, and weary with guilt. Her injuries were severe, and I frantically thought the pain must be horrible. This is all my fault…we were almost too late. I shuddered. I sensed my eyes growing darker, more sinister, with my emotions and instincts mixing dangerously—anger, thirst, fear, worry, despair. I started down the stairs to the exit anxiously.
I did not dare to tempt fate by attempting to breathe; the uncomfortable feeling in my chest was increasing. I couldn't take the risk and spark the monster within. Her blood had tasted like a small slice of heaven—tainted with venom and morphine—yet painfully and amazingly delectable. I chanced a quick glance at her as Carlisle and I sprinted our way to his Mercedes. Carlisle, having already plotted our plan, proceeded ahead of me. With James destroyed, we needed to implement our plan fast and furiously; being discovered was not an option. All of us understood our objectives and their vital roles. Emmett and Jasper's objective was to wait for us to disappear and then ensure James' utter destruction and the ballet studio's final performance. Alice was to ensure the scapegoat, our fabrication of an accident to compliment Bella's injuries. She was already gone, having departed immediately after securing the videotape. The second car, stolen from the airport in our desperate need for speed, would be left in front of the studio—wiped clean of all traces. Our decoy. All this initiated as part of our instinctive need to destroy evidence, and to protect our identity from these ignorant humans. Centuries of practice made us perfect.
As I approached the car, Carlisle opened the rear door for me to rest Bella on the back seat. I carefully got in, her head in one arm, her leg held stable by the other, her body stretched sideways on the seat. Carlisle promptly jumped in the driver's seat and took off, speeding towards the Phoenix Hospital. Even through my furious anger and screaming thirst, my only concern lay almost dead and broken in my arms.
Her precious blood was everywhere. Her pale, beautiful face was violently streaked with bloody tears. Her white shirt, saturated with her blood, was still wet to the touch. I could still intensely taste her sweet, floral taste in my mouth, and the venom was constantly seeping, causing a painful, tightening burning sensation in my throat. Triumphantly—against unbeatable odds—my resistance felt secure. After tasting her without killing her like a frenzied shark, being in her blood's presence seemed to be mere child's play in comparison.
Her skin was starting to look ashen grey, her extremities whitening—not a good sign. The gash across her scalp was still trying to seep blood despite the bandage I held between her head and my chest. Her pulse was becoming rapid, weak and thready, and her breathing increased and labored. She seemed colder than normal, her white skin clammy. Her lips were now colorless. Hypovolaemic shock. I started to panic inside, stricken with worry that maybe I'd taken too much. She was not yet safe. I brushed my hand across her blushless, pale white cheek and mentally prepared for the worst.
I held her body next to mine, counteracting the movements created by the speeding vehicle. As we sped and swerved through the Phoenix traffic, I could hear Carlisle's thoughts. Edward…she will be ok. You did the best you could. We arrived in time and you saved her. You saved her mortality. His thoughts paused as he threw his lightweight jacket over the seat. Keep an eye on her, make sure she is breathing, and keep her warm if you can. I looked up in the rear view mirror and nodded my head; I wrapped the jacket around her cold, still frame. I knew what to look for—I'd been to medical school, twice. Other than the shock from blood loss, her airway was clear; she had no internal bleeding or collapsed lungs due to the impact she obviously took. I worried, knowing she needed blood as soon as possible. Her body had lost enough blood due to the laceration; my sample only aggravated the situation. I felt grateful for a brief moment…extremely grateful, that I had overcome the impossible and had the willpower to deny the monstrous urge to take her life. She had tasted so wonderful—had it not been for her desperate cry that pulled me back from the brink, the monster would have claimed victory.
I forced myself to forget that sinful moment in the studio. I concentrated on Bella, and I briefly felt overjoyed that Carlisle carried morphine in his medical bag. My heart could not endure to watch her suffer this pain consciously, though she most likely would have lost consciousness from her excessive blood loss by now. I stared at her, cringing, this was my fault that she lay here tattered and broken. What if James had killed her—I could never live with myself or allow myself to exist without her. My mind started to pick through the contingency plans it had subconsciously formed during our race to the studio. If I had failed, death would have been my only option.
My eyes must have betrayed me in the rear-view mirror. I heard Carlisle's thoughts at that moment…Edward focus on what is at hand. I looked up and nodded. Now was not the time to dwell on my failures and insecurities. I caressed Bella's face with my cool hand. She was all that mattered in my world; I had to concentrate on keeping her with us. I touched her forehead with my cold hand. I quickly noticed her symptoms increasing, her body surrendering to her myriad of injuries. I wrapped the thin jacket tighter around her frail, limp body. It didn't provide much warmth, but every little bit mattered.
I watched Carlisle dial his cell phone. Through my tormented thoughts, I heard the over-cheery voice of the hospital operator and then the husky voice of a Dr. Brinkley in the emergency room. My mind started to feel like it was ready to crack. Being in the airtight constraints of the vehicle, I started to feel strangled by the basic instincts of my being. Enraged feelings floated effortlessly across my mind over my endangerment of her life. Not to mention the heavenly blood I was desperately fighting to ignore; all too much to truly pay attention to the conversation. Brief flickers of Carlisle's conversation did reach my consciousness. He was advising them of Bella's injuries--a fractured femur, possible rib fractures, her Glasgow Coma scale rating, a laceration in need of repair. The extent of the damage I caused her was a grave reminder of what I truly was. I focused on my love for Bella…for nothing else could contain the raw needs my monster lusted after—a thirst so intense, a delicacy so divine, a feast sprawled helplessly in front of me. I shook my head, a futile attempt to turn off the part of me that allowed my existence. I was her worst nightmare.
Concentrating on the present was becoming increasingly difficult. Having not taken a breath since I entered the ballet studio and then being trapped in the airtight vehicle, the monster was slowly clawing its way to the surface. I felt brief relief as Carlisle's thoughts announced our impending arrival. As we pulled up at the hospital emergency entrance, a wave of relief washed over me for a small and simple miracle—a shaded entrance.
Carlisle pulled into the entrance and was out of the car in a flash, opening the door. The fresh, warm air hit my face making me desire to inhale a cleansing breath—I refused. I forced myself to brace Bella and gently lift her from the car. She is so broken. Carlisle turned back to park while I walked as fast and human-like as possible towards the entrance. The double automatic doors opened too slowly. As I made my way to the large doors leading to the emergency room, waves upon waves of unwanted thoughts flooded my mind.
"Oh my God…is she dead…"
"What happened to that poor girl…?"
"So much blood…she's so pale…"
I forced the thoughts back as far as possible in an attempt to hear them as white noise in my head. I approached the staff, and they promptly opened the doors.
"Is this Isabella Swan?" A tall, blonde-haired nurse inquired.
"Yes," I replied, my voice strained and scratchy.
"This way, Mister…"
"Cullen," I said almost breathless. The air reserve in my chest felt dangerously low.
The blonde nurse quickly led the way to a trauma room in the back of the emergency room. She motioned me to place Bella on the bed in the middle of the room. I noticed the medical staff was prepared to act. I placed a quick kiss on her forehead and laid her precious body on the table. I stepped back near the wall and let them work. I stood frozen stiff in shock and disbelief. My eyes glued to her, limp and frail on the table. The crew quickly placed her on oxygen—to prevent hypoxic brain damage—and then started carefully cutting her shirt and pants off to access the severity of her injuries. I noticed the large bruise and misalignment of her leg. Anger consumed my being, for I alone exposed her to James. My selfishness and ignorance almost took her life, which is a price she should never have to pay.
In my frozen state of complete unawareness, I felt Carlisle place a firm hand on my shoulder.
"Edward," he said firmly. "I'll give them the details, you step out and provide her information to the staff." Your eyes are black—go get some air. She is in good hands now.
I nodded and took one last look at Bella. A short Latino woman was starting an IV in her right arm, a tall gray-haired man came bustling in with the blood she desperately needed. Dr. Brinkley looked calm and collected accessing the gash in her head and advising someone on the barrage of tests he desired. She looked terrible, her clothes cut off and her beautiful body covered in blood and bruises. I closed my eyes, turned, and made my way to the registration desk. I took a needed, but difficult, breath. My body reacted; the venom flowed causing the burning pain to reignite in my throat. I deserved every minute of this suffering.
"I'm here to register Isabella Swan," I softly strained to the red-haired girl behind the desk. She smiled and gestured that she would be right there.
The surrounding voices were a low, irritating, constantly flowing chatter. I forced myself not to listen; unfortunately, not everything stayed silent. Discouraging words surfaced more apparent than the rest…he's so pale…blood on his hands, his shirt…he carried that young girl in…she looked almost dead. I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. I learned from the observations of others that my shirt and hands showed traces of blood. Others felt fear at my demeanor and appearance. I was positive the stone cold lines of my face were more prominent in my depressed and angry state. Bella cannot die, not now. I darkly thought about how my eyes must now be a golden color splashed with red—a dark, bloody copper.
"I'm sorry about the wait, sir," the red-haired girl replied. "How can I help you?"
"I'm here to give you Isabella Swan's information," I stated in a flat, emotionless voice.
"Ok, sir. What is your name and relation to Miss Swan?" she asked carefully.
"Edward Cullen, I'm her boyfriend. She is here in Phoenix with my father and I. Her nearest blood relative is currently in Florida."
"What is her date of birth, Mr. Cullen?"
"September 13th, 1988."
"Do you have her address, phone number and insurance information with you?" She smiled empathetically.
"I have all the information you need," I replied, my blank stare piercing.
I provided all the critical details the girl requested: emergency contact information, home address, phone number, the time, location and nature of the accident and injuries. The girl was genuinely pained to bother me for this information. He must be in shock himself. To stand here and put up with a load of questions he must think are trivial... I smiled at her; she seemed to relax a little.
"Mr. Cullen, who should we put as the responsible party for the bill? I'll take her insurance card if you have it," she stated in her cheery, professional voice.
"I will be taking care of the entire bill."
A jolt of shock and confusion washed over her. Her thoughts were jumping around frantically. "Mr. Cullen…do you realize the potential cost of this?"
"I understand we could be talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. Do you need a credit card or a contact name from my bank? The cost is not an issue." I tried to smile.
She stared at me in bewilderment. "Mr. Cullen, this is not particularly, well normal."
Normal? If she only knew what stood before her. Putting on the human façade was becoming irritating. I looked at her and attempted to turn on the natural charm. "Miss, there is no need to worry. I am fully aware of the cost. Please, let's just leave it like this." I smiled softly.
"Okay, Mr. Cullen. I'll just need you to fill out the information on this form for billing purposes and then we are set."
I nodded and took the form. I completed the mundane information and promptly handed it back to her. "Are we done?" I asked.
"Yes, Mr. Cullen. Thank you. I hope she is alright." She smiled and went about her tasks.
I searched for Carlisle's thoughts and found him still discussing Bella's condition. Images flashed through my mind. She was still in the trauma room with a warm blanket on her, monitor wires running from her body, and multiple people hovering over her. They were currently calling for the on-call orthopedic surgeon to evaluate her fractured leg. Once she stabilized, they would put her through multiple imaging tests. I could tell Carlisle was worried. The excessive blood loss had caused the hypovolaemic shock, and the hospital only had two units of her blood type. Figures…she would have to be a type O negative, the rarest of all blood types. Unlike other blood types, she could only receive O negative. I knew she would need more than what they had on hand. I heard Carlisle and Dr. Brinkley discussing a plan to fly some in from Tuscan if she did not improve after receiving the two units they had.
My mind started to race. I desperately needed to get out of the hospital for a moment. I needed to keep my composure for Bella. For once in my life the overwhelming stress, instincts, and emotions took control. I felt an insane need to sit down, and I made my way to an unoccupied corner of the waiting area. I sat down, placing my arms on my legs and let my head fall into my hands. Please hurry. I thought, pondering about my siblings still wrapping up our plan. I desperately needed to shower to remove the traces of Bella's blood from my skin, and then get new clothes so I could be back by Bella's side. Only a monster would be forced to leave her alone in her condition. I may be strong, but one can only play with fire so long before the flames take over. I pleaded with my mind to stop; I hoped that Jasper, Emmett, and Alice would arrive shortly, for my sake.