Everything has a price.
If I'd looked closer at the prices involved in my choices then I wouldn't be sitting here in the rain, trying not to kill the already half-dead girl in front of me. Every time I looked at the girl my stomach tightened. I had stopped breathing, but the memory of her thick life-blood sliding down my throat—a thousand times better than any animal—kept the venom flowing easily into my mouth, creating a dry burning sensation in the back of my mouth. I was a monster. Now I understood why Edward hadn't wanted this for me. Eternity was too long—lifetime after lifetime to accumulate too many mistakes to redeem. Even if this girl left, there would always be another slip-up, another mark on my soul.
I didn't doubt my soul, the volume of love I had for Edward left me without any fear of that. It's what would happen to my soul that scared me.
"Bella?" His voice made me jump, and I quickly scrambled up the nearest tree and watched him discover the girl. He looked around with concern in his eyes, and then he heard the low groan that escaped me as his movement blew the scent of the girl towards me. Immediately his face expression flickered from relief to disappointment to compassion, and then to concern again.
I shook my head in an agony of shame and squeezed my ruby eyes shut so he wouldn't see me, as I had been when I was a newborn—out of control, full of bloodlust.
He came to the tree and grabbed my ankle, hanging down just in his reach. I let him pull me down and fell into his arms, wrenched with tearless sobs.
"Bella," He said gently, "open your eyes love."
I shook my head, shutting them tighter and digging my head into the curve of his neck. If I'd been human I would have bruised myself with the way I clung to him, clenching my fingers around bunches of his shirt.
"How did you not kill me?" I moaned into his shoulder. "I can't stand it."
Edward kept a grip on me with one hand, the other hand held his cell-phone. He was talking to Carlisle, telling him to hurry over here.
The girl was still unconscious, her face pale from blood loss and shock, but still the little blood left to her made me whimper with a longing that sickened me. I tried to suppress the shrill cries that made Edward's face twist in guilt and shared pain, but they insinuated themselves between my lips and into the air.
Carlisle arrived quickly, thankfully, and when he looked at the girl he shook his head. "She's dead."
Suddenly my eyes snapped open and I wrenched myself out of Edward's arms to fall upon the girl and finish off the last of her blood. It took both Edward and Carlisle to pull me off of her.
I fought a few more seconds before I regained control, and then I hid my eyes again.
"No!" Edward said suddenly, as Carlisle tried to identify the girl. But Carlisle's surprised gasp of the name reached my ears, doubling the shame and terror and pain I felt.
Leslie Cheney, Angela and Ben's nine-year-old daughter, had been my singer.
I wanted to feel sad for Angela and Ben and dead Leslie, but all the sorrow was for myself. I was sorry I'd killed her, but not because I had any affection for her parents or her. I'd forgotten Angela and Ben until the birth announcement almost a decade ago.
The kindness of Angela was a blurred memory that barely had any meaning anymore. I wanted to feel sad for her and her husband, but I didn't care about them anymore. With a shock I realized I couldn't remember what my real father looked like, or Jacob, or my real mother, or that girl I'd been friends with…I'd been so happy with my new family; I'd forgotten their names. I only remembered Jacob's name because of the strong emotional attachment I'd had to him as a human.
My dry sobs increased as I realized this. But I was crying for a shadow of what had been, I didn't miss all these people from my life before.
I was content with my sisters and brothers, Carlisle and Esme, and Edward—my soul mate. There weren't any empty spaces in my life.
Edward picked me up and we sat in the back seat of Carlisle's Mercedes, me in his lap as he stroked my back rhythmically, trying to soothe me.
"It's all my fault." I mumbled. "I'm so sorry."
When we were back in the house I curled up on the bed in the room Edward and I shared, and didn't open my eyes until they were black with thirst, hiding the shameful red irises. It was two weeks before I moved.
When I came out I saw Emmet handing Jasper almost one million dollars with a thunderous expression. Jasper sensed my confusion, then shock and turned guiltily.
"Are you happy?" I half sobbed. "Are you happy Jasper, that I slipped?"
He was quiet and ashamed looking, as was Emmet.
"Ten thousand dollars?" I asked quietly. "That's price of my soul?"
No, the price of my soul was paid for with blood, not cash.
Both of them didn't answer, just stared dumbly at the raw pain that I was sure they could see in my obsidian eyes.
Then I ran back upstairs to where Edward was waiting, his arms ready for me, having heard the whole conversation. "I could cheerfully maim them for you." Edward growled.
"Don't." I whispered. "Jasper didn't mean to hurt me like that. It's my fault for not being strong enough."
"No, I should've stayed closer to you." Edward tried to take the guilt onto himself. I snarled deep in my chest.
"It's my fault." I said. "I'll never be able to justify what I did—" He stopped my mouth with a kiss.
"It happens to everyone." He said gently. I shook my head.
"It wasn't right. But thank you for forgiving me." I said. Then I closed my eyes and let him hum my lullaby.
But I couldn't forget what I had forgotten, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was a rock; hard, heartless—just like Jacob had said of Edward.
Was this the price of keeping my soul, all the memories lost, only attached to my mate and immediate family, sure I could keep control—just to slip.
Though I knew I'd choose Edward again, I couldn't help wondering if everything was worth it…
