Chapter Two: Distractions

Rosalie's POV

It was futile.

I couldn't live with what was going on downstairs, it was too painful. So I tried distracting myself. Not with my usual method of clinging to my human life, this time I tried to only focus on the present, because if I looked back into the past I could only see one thing – him. His pain was cutting me, like a thousand flaming knives. I couldn't cope.

I gazed into the looking glass at my stunning face, brushing my golden tresses. My eyes saw the breath-taking woman in the mirror, but all I could really see was the image of his face, not mine, grimacing in pain. Obviously, musing on my own perfection was not good enough now.

I tried singing, weaving a beautiful new melody, stroking piano keys in accompaniment. But, as my angel's voice floated through the room, my ears were full of the sound of his cries of anguish, piercing my heart. The once-peaceful piece I was composing turned sad and mournful, and quickly developed a panicky edge. My breath came in quick gaps, and the notes burst from my lips so quickly that the notes hung poignantly in the air, making it sound as if I were singing chords.

Even running so far I couldn't sense the house did nothing to relieve my agony. I pumped my strong legs faster, but the only thing I could feel was pain for him, seeing his body twist and convulse on Carlisle's makeshift operating table.

I ran until I stood on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a small village, lit by glowing windows. I imagined I must look very Pocahontas-y, with my hair blowing back from my face, my eyes shut, and my position set as if I were ready to throw myself off the cliff, to dive into open air. I might have too, but I didn't want to cause a rock slide. Plus it might muss my hair.

My thoughts shifted. This was unbearable. The more I tried to forget about them, the more the pictures plagued me, as if they were branded on my mind. Of course you can't forget, I scolded myself. You're immortal, with an unfailing memory. Silly Rose.

Obviously, my lame attempt to cheer myself with light, one-way banter, did nothing for me. I thought it out on a large boulder (the boulder was unfortunate to have met me today; it was in several pieces by the time I had sorted out my thoughts), and eventually realized that hiding was doing nothing for me or anyone else. My bloodlust was under control - partially due to the fact that the human's blood had cooled and hardened – he smelled very appealing; in a non-food way – and I knew I could at least help hold him down so he was not in anymore pain than necessary.

I smiled to myself grimly, proud of my decision; steeled myself for what was to come; and tore back towards Pennsylvania.