I want to collapse in the timeless wilderness and remain there until I have been accepted by nature as part of its greenery. Like a stone covered in moss, its origins forgotten. At least then I wouldn't have to face all of those whom I had let down in my weakness. But I know that Alice will see me here, if she hasn't already, and the prospect of her coming to drag me home is humiliating.
Why hadn't she seen this? What was the use of having a psychic for a sister if not to prevent a tragedy such as this from happening?
But even as I attempt to shift a fraction of the blame to someone other than myself, I know exactly why this event had slipped by her futuristic eye undetected. I know because I understand her ability better than anyone next to Alice herself. My own ability, not to see into the future, but to see into the mind, provides me with great insight. I have watched countless visions through the medium of her thoughts just as she watches them herself, and decisions are always the catalyst.
Alice had experienced no foresight into this occurrence for the fact that there were no thought out decisions precipitating it. Mark had not been mentally stable, his death had been an accident, and if I had been capable of decision making, my eyes would not be full of his blood.
Decisions are being made now, though, and I cannot surrender to my cowardly desires. I must return to my family. It is the one thing I am sure of. I turn back to Mark's pallid body, staring at it for a long moment. Another complication in this tangled mess: What to do with his remains?
The gunshot wound would explain his death well enough, but what of the wounds I had caused? What of his bloodless state? So then there are two things I am sure of. I must return to my family, but first I must dispose of what is left of Mark. Suspicions, no matter how unlikely, are to be avoided at all costs. Though I had not known him personally, what I could gather leads me to believe Mark's life had been no stroll in the park. At the very least the man deserved a proper burial.
This is not the first time I have needed to destroy the evidence of a victim. Recalling those dark days during which I had killed so many humans- vulgar, cynical, even demonic humans, but still humans in the technical sense of the word- is difficult for me. It is always difficult for me to face the monster barely contained within me, but it sickens me all the more now to be cursed with the knowledge of how close to the surface the monster really is. Being with Bella has shown me how strong I can be, and to have that strength which her delicate life depends on reduced so suddenly to nothing is terrifying.
I force myself to abandon this painful train of thought.
"Focus on cleaning up the situation before becoming consumed with its aftermath," I instruct myself sternly.
Robotically I approach the first reasonably sized tree in my line of sight. With one pull, I free it from the earth. I dig through the soil with my bare hands, then place Mark inside of the black hole.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do better than this for you," I tell him.
I meant it as an apology for the makeshift grave, but there is so much more that I am sorry for. After covering up any hint of disturbance, I turn to begin the trip home. Sluggish with dread, I notice the wallet still lying on the grass where I'd dropped it. Another decision is made. I reach down and place it in my pocket. I tell myself it's just for reasons of caution, just so my family will be able to keep an eye out for any information concerning him, but I know the truth.
It will serve as a morbid reminder of my flawed self control. As a vampire I need no reminders, but I want physical evidence of this. If I wanted any hope of doing right by Bella, physical evidence would be necessary.
*
Alice is standing out on the porch waiting for me when I arrive.
Edward, I know what happened. There's no reason for you to feel guilty. It could have been any one of us out there-
"But it wasn't," I interrupt her thought sharply; "It was me. And you can't tell me that if it were Carlisle-"
"Well, of course not. But you can't compare yourself to Carlisle, Edward! That's ridiculous!"
"You're right. I can't compare myself to him. Not then and definitely not now."
"Would you just-"
She is stopped mid-sentence by Emmett who chose this exact moment to join us.
"What are you guys-"
But Emmett is stopped too. Not by another family member, but by surprise. When he had spoken I'd made the mistake of making eye contact with him. I dropped my gaze to the floor a second too late.
I didn't tell them, Alice silently explains, I didn't think it was my place.
"Fell off the bandwagon, eh Edward?" Emmett asks sounding amused.
Leave it to Emmett…
Suppressing the urge to growl, I glare at him (an expression made more effective by the shameful color of my eyes) and go inside. No use in staying out here when everyone can hear anyway. Sure enough they are all gathered together just a few feet away from the entrance. I purposely ignore their thoughts, I don't want to know them, and walk straight to my father.
"Carlisle…," I say, feeling positively wretched, "I am so very sorry. Please-"
"It doesn't matter how sorry you are, Edward. That doesn't change the fact that we all have to start over now. Thanks a lot," Rosalie throws in acidly.
"But we don't!" Alice pipes up, happy to be the bearer of good news.
A great number of "what??"s resound in my head.
"We really don't!" Alice repeats at their skeptically confused expressions.
Their faces show no change, and then turn to me seeking confirmation.
"It's true," I reluctantly tell them, "There's no reason we have to evacuate."
"What do you mean there's no reason?! Have you both lost your minds?!" Rosalie demands.
It appears as though she wishes to say more, but Carlisle raises one hand thankfully silencing her.
"Would you explain that to us please? What happened, Edward?"
His voice, always so calm and sure, causes the guilt to twist inside me. He must know how terrible I feel because he reassures me with his thoughts.
You haven't disappointed me. You are still my son; my good, talented, wonderful son. I will never cease to have faith in you, no matter what you tell me now.
And so I tell them all of delusional, paranoid Mark. I tell them of his accident; his death. I tell them of his blood. I tell them of my thirst. I tell them of my weakness and revolting satisfaction. I tell them of the tree that is his gravestone, and, finally, I show them his wallet as I conclude my nightmare.
Then I wait.