How does one cope with something they cannot control? To look in the mirror everyday and see nothing more than a monster? I suppose it's selfish of me to feel pity for myself. To presumably go around as a "shattered soul..."
Edward looked up from the words written in his journal and sighed, gathering his thoughts, only to be interrupted by Esme's call downstairs. In one swift movement, he rose from the chair he had been sitting on-a habit he had reacquainted himself with from his previous human days-and walked over to his newly acquired record player. He turned the knob to the right and let the soothing compositions drown out his troubles. A small smile formed on his lips at the familiar song, and he walked back to his desk, taking his seat again as his train of thought returned.
...but I guess it's fair in the end, right? I got what I deserved. An eternity of walking this damned place, never to truly feel alive again-nor to end the suffering in a peaceful death. Doomed to walk the lines of purgatory forever...but getting closer and closer to hell each day...
He closed his journal, placing it to the side of his desk, with what seemed to be a permanent frown imprinted into the pale skin of his face. He sat for a moment in silence, staring at nothing in particular, when he was interrupted by Esme's panicked voice again.
"What could be so important?" He muttered to himself, pushing away from the desk in frustration as he stormed out of his room to see what the commotion was. As soon as he stepped out the door, he froze, his whole body going rigid as he tried very hard to restrain himself from attacking the smell that had assaulted him.
He immediately stopped his breathing and flung his hand up to his face, covering his mouth and nose, but it was too late. The scent of fresh blood burned through his nostrils and throat, drawing out the blood lust within. He held perfectly still as the flustered thoughts of Carlisle and Esme clued him in on what had happened.
His hand fell from his face as the image of the bloody girl ran through his mind, "Oh no." He whispered, distraught. Another helpless soul, forced into this horrid existence in a matter of life or death. Something told him that she would much rather have death than the life he had been dealt-that they had all been dealt. If it had been possible, he would've chosen that option long ago.
The sympathy he felt towards the girl drew him to make it as comfortable for her as possible, though that was very unlikely. She was about to feel the worst pain any one should ever have to experience, and in that pain, she would only be brought more pain. Physical pain, as well as emotional pain. Finding comfort in that would be as impossible as reversing the damage that has now, and forever, been done to them all. Edward dashed off to the spare bedroom, quickly changing the sheets and balling them into his fists as he ran towards the bathroom where Esme was tending to the young woman. A young woman who was known to the city of Rochester, New York as Rosalie Hale.
The smell was stronger than ever, and he had to use every bit of his strength just to attempt to remain under control, and knocked softly on the door. "Esme, is she alright?" He asked, his voice clearly portraying his worry. The faint memory of his change boring into his mind now, bringing with it the torturous life to follow. A memory he had hoped would disappear like the rest of his human memories, but hadn't.
Carlisle glanced up at him, then stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. "The venom's spreading thoroughly through her system. Now we just have to wait..." He sighed, turning away as he slumped towards his office. "Carlisle?" Edward called to him with questioning eyes. He simply shook his head-not needing to be a mind-reader to know what Edward was asking, and continued down the hall, not saying a word, 'There was nothing else I could do...'
Edward stood outside her door most of the time, afraid to walk in. It's not that he was afraid her bloodstained clothes would be enough to drive him mad, but rather that he couldn't bear the thought of watching her make way into this new life.
Life, he smirked at the thought. It was nothing more than an endless death to him.
He helped Carlisle when asked to, but every time he walked into the room and saw her writhing around in pain, her ear-splitting screams echoing throughout the house...he had to step out. Seeing yet another soul become an empty, blood-seeking body was too much to bear.
Although he knew absolutely nothing about the girl, besides the obvious, he felt pity for her. She, like him, had her life all planned out. Considering the fact that she was wearing an engagement ring the size of a small walnut, he had assumed she was in love, ready to start a new life with her betrothed. Something he himself had not had the chance to experience. But for her, he imagined, it would be perfect; just like a dream. Then in one split second...everything changes. The dream turns into a nightmare; one in which you can't wake up from.
If his heart had a beat, it would be pounding out of his chest right now. He paced around his room, rather quickly, barely paying attention to the worrisome thoughts floating around him. He stopped dead-on when a new voice came to his head. Calmer, but with a strong curiosity.
Without hesitation, he stepped outside his door to see Rosalie wandering down the halls. It pained him to see her like this; the change was strictly apparent. The stone-like appearance, the washed-out-but still beautiful-milky color of her skin, and the deep red orbs that now inhabited the whites of her eyes, a clear indication of her newborn thirst. There was no going back for her now.
He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar scent, and stepped forward. "Rosalie?" He called out to her, composing his face. "Are you alright?" Even he could hear the irony in his voice. She would never be "alright" again.
Edward examined her rigid figure, taking in consideration of her thoughts. The immediate trigger that just the mere thought of the man she once called her fiancee` pulled on her emotions was astounding. He'd never seen someone so livid before in his entire existence. It was slightly refreshing to see that there was still some sanity left in the world.
Rosalie looked him over. "He's absolutely beautiful..." He held back a small smile at that. For some reason, it was much easier for him to dismiss the untold compliments he received nowadays. He used to feel quite high off the adoration people gave him, even though he knew he didn't deserve it. Edward knew quite well how people-including vampires-reacted to him. His special ability gave him the chance to take a look through other's eyes; to see what people really thought of him.
Surely, you would think that by him seeing what everyone else saw, it would generate some relief. But there was none. In fact, it only made matters worse. Seeing himself as others did-as the extremely handsome, god-like creature...it only made him see the truth behind their oblivious emotions. He was a monster in every way possible. Not only that, but he was the perfect monster. His appearance, his very essence, were all part of the package. All set to make for the perfect trap for all of the unsuspecting prey. This was the horrible truth he had to live with; the truth behind the lies and facade. He was nothing more than a well-equipped vampire. Just like the others of his kind.
"I-I don't know," she finally said. He watched her carefully as she calmed herself, taking in unnecessary breaths. Poor girl...That horrid man has completely torn her to shreds...
He waited patiently for her to collect herself. He had all the time in the world. She could take a century to absorb what had happened to her and there'd still be more time left over for trivial things. Time was a limitless, expendable thing for him, and now, for her as well.
When she finally spoke again, he paid more attention to her thoughts than her words. It was a necassary thing to do when they were dealing with newborns. They were impulsive and wild, and were completely controlled by their instincts. For them, it was their only way of survival.
"Where am I? What...happened?" She choked on the last word, catching a glimpse of her new self in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. She brought a hand up to her face, stroking the marble-like skin. She recoiled from the touch; this face was unfamiliar to her. There were similarities, yes, like the arch of her brows, the beauty mark that donned her upper lip, and even the curve of her nose. They were the same, and yet her brows were more striking, the mark more defined, and her nose straightened slightly to perfection. She had always been beautiful, but now she was...something more than beautiful. Something dangerous, she decided, turning away from the mirror and the crimson eyes that stared back at her.
"Rosalie, you're safe here," is all Edward could manage to say. His mind was too distracted by the frantic thoughts that were inhabiting both of their heads at the moment. Safe. She took that word into consideration as an image of Royce watching his inebriated friends violating his soon-to-be bride danced around her mind. She felt the sting of tears coming, but not a single one fell from her eyes. Her dry eyes glared at the princess-cut diamond on her ring finger. That bastard assaulted me and I can't even cry about it.
"I'm deeply sorry that this has happened to you, Miss Hale, but I can assure you that Royce King will never lay a hand on you again." Edward responded to her thoughts, hoping it would put her at ease. She stared at him blankly, her lips parting, a question hanging on her tongue. "How do you know about that?"
Edward found humor in her simple question, but felt some pity for her at the same time. She would just be another addition to his collection of thoughts; just another open book. He took a step forward and folded his arms casually across his chest, "Oh, I know quite a lot about you, Miss Hale." He managed to stifle a dazzling smile and continued. "I'm very much like you...but I have a sort of gift, per se." Even he could hear the irony in his voice. He hardly considered his telepathy a gift. At least a gift would be returnable if he did not want it, and he most certainly did not want this. He didn't like invading the privacy of people's minds, as useful as it may be, given the right circumstances. But there were no secrets, no private sanctuaries from the outside world. In this case, things were neither better nor worse left unsaid.
"I'm sure you've gathered by now that you are not yourself anymore, not quite, and in coming into this new world, some of us are given certain advantages." He tested that word and decided it was most fitting, then continued. "You see, my advantage is that I can read people's minds. I know this is a lot to take in in such a short amount of time, but-" Rosalie crossed the room to stand directly in front of him-rather quickly, she noted-and placed a slim finger against his lips, silencing him. "Yes, it is. I'm still trying to understand how Dr. Cullen..." She trailed off, a slight burning sensation rose in her throat. Edward knew that she would need to feed as soon as possible. Not many newborns would be so up for chatting this early on in their new life. Rosalie cleared her throat, smiled gently, and said "I guess I'll just have to adjust."
Something about the way she said "adjust" made Edward shudder. He didn't know what she meant by that exactly, because at the time neither did she, but he had a feeling that no good would come of it.