Will there ever be an end?
All that is needed is one taste of the sin that I crave. Wretched fingers reach listlessly forward, though they catch only air as they search for desire. Controlling the elements, I am fraught with havoc. I ask for forgiveness and receive none. And now, in my wild, empty abandon, I am a sinking ship falling deeper into empty oceans.
There is no escape, no breath. Surrounded by the pressures of life and death, I gasp.
There is no turning back from here.
I am in blood
Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
The water is blood now. It seeps into the pores of my skin as I thrash my way to the surface, drowning. No air is needed but I still reach out for something, someone. It pushes down on my body and on my soul until I cannot feel them any longer.
I am a body filled with what I have done, not who I am.
A fragmented being with only the outermost shell, I fall.
And even in sleepless dream I beg to be lifted from my watery grave, but to no avail. The surf, the sand; it swallows me whole. My body sinks like the stone that it is, and my regrets are fruitless, my actions are fruitless. I call out, "Save me from the hull of this ship! Save me from my everlasting grave!"
But there is no answer.
#
I struggle against the arms of my restrainers. Both Demetri and Carlisle pull me back. My desire is much stronger than Carlisle's once was, and I am very close to breaking free. My mind focuses on so many things at once. Primarily, of course, my target. She is so close, so close, so close. If I could just reach out and taste her . . .
"Edward, remember where your values lie. You are not weak," Carlisle's voice echoes in my ear, but I do not register the words. All that consumes my mind is the pure and uncontrollable want. I smell the fear and the adrenaline in the air, permeating my nostrils and mingling perfectly with her wondrous scent. I thrash against the arms of Demetri and Carlisle.
Let me go.
Let me go.
Let me consume.
Save for my growls and the human's rapid heartbeat, there is no sound in the room. I blame the absence of thought to my focus.
There is nothing I can do. I cannot restrain my need for this human. If I do not have her . . . well, that is something my throat will not allow. I breathe in the thick scent through my nose, feeling my eyes roll back in how utterly perfect it smells. Every breath is more potent than the last. I am not growing immune to the scent; the opposite is happening, I am craving it more. I keep breathing and thrashing and growling until the scent is, for some strange reason, muted.
It takes me a few moments to realize that Carlisle's hand covers both my nose and my mouth. But it isn't enough, for I can still taste the scent on the back of my tongue. I still crave it in every bone of my body, and my perfect memory does not allow me to forget what it is that is still standing in front of me, waiting.
It feels like ages before I am able to calm my reactions, though my muscles are still bent in tense attack.
"I will take her away, Edward," Demetri offers as he once offered Carlisle. I shake my head. I should be saying yes, take her away, get her out of here before I drain every last drop in her body. But I'm not.
I know I can create a façade that will last just long enough for Demetri and Carlisle to let me go. And then I will attack, and she will be dead before she realizes anyone in the entire great room has moved. I force my muscles to relax further, though I still feel them shaking as my mind fights for control over my body. Carlisle's hand still covers both my mouth and nose.
"Demetri, I will not allow another singer to be taken from the premises," Aro says suddenly, his eyes in a slight glare as he regards the situation. "I know you did it for Carlisle, but that was such a disappointment, not to mention quite a bore. Edward's deserved this. Haven't you, Edward?"
My mouth is still covered by Carlisle's hand.
Aro wants me to speak, to breathe, to inhale.
But instead, she speaks.
"Edward . . . Edward is your name? Edward, I have a dad and a mom and I'm the only child. My dad . . . he loves me. His name is Charlie and he lives in Washington all alone. Edward? Edward, he doesn't even know how to cook. I cook for him-" Her voice is shaking, though she persists until Aro cuts her off.
"God, will someone shut her up?" Aro snaps. The times Aro loses control of himself are few and far between, but this is one of them. He even lets his mind slip, and I hear his concerns. He believes that if I don't succumb to my natural instincts and kill the girl, I won't stay in the guard. He wants to break me and, if anything, it makes me more stubborn.
Felix moves behind her after Aro's request. He doesn't have to touch her, for she promptly stops talking only out of fear.
"I said, you feel you deserve this, right Edward?" Aro's voice loses more of its patience and control. Carlisle understands the order in his tone. He slowly but reluctantly moves his hand from my face.
"Yes," I cough, but don't inhale. If I were to inhale I would blow my cover right in front of everyone. I certainly can't have that. After all, I want to savor her. Every. Last. Drop.
She startles at the sound of my voice and we make eye contact.
I still want to kill her.
"This is taking up an obnoxious amount of time," Caius grumbles.
"I agree. This is supposed to be celebratory. Edward, have at it!" Aro calls, leaning forward in his seat in anticipation. Even through Aro's request, Carlisle and Demetri tighten their hold on my body.
"Perhaps," I begin, using the last of my saved air, "I could have her in private."
"Are you sure?" Carlisle whispers in my ear for all to hear.
"Hush, Carlisle," Aro snaps, mulling my suggestion over. His thoughts are no longer guarded in the heat of the moment, and I can tell that this placating him. He assumes that if I still drink her blood, I will be more willing to stay with the guard – public ceremony or not. Aro taps his finger against his chin to prolong the moment and then speaks. "I suppose I will allow it. Felix, please bring Isabella to Edward's quarters and leave her there. I want no one inside that room, is that clear?"
Isabella.
He addresses the rest of the guard with the end of his statement. He is now trying to please me. He is holding on to this worthless little girl in hopes that it will keep me with the guard.
I unintentionally hiss as I watch Felix move my prey from my sight. It is within my instinct to push him out of the way and claim her as my own. She frantically looks over her shoulder when I make the noise, and our eyes meet one more time before she turns the corner.
I inhale a few minutes later, but the air is still tainted with her scent. I come this close to lunging out after her, but remind myself that both Carlisle and Demetri are still by my side. I want no one around when I drain Isabella. In fact, I want Carlisle halfway across the world before I even touch her blood. Perhaps Aro is right. Perhaps it is just Carlisle that is keeping me from what is natural and right for a vampire, and if he no longer feels obligation toward me I will be able to revert to my natural instincts. Either way, I almost don't care. All I want is her blood, and the only thing keeping me sane is the fact that I will drain her later in the evening and it will be the best feeling I will ever relish in.
"Well done, son," Carlisle eventually says, straightening his position. I reluctantly move from my crouch and stare passively at him. I have made up my mind. I am no longer affiliated with Carlisle and his ways.
After all, I am a vampire.
I might as well embrace it.
"We are free to go tonight. You don't have to go to your room before then. You are over the hardest hurdle." Carlisle looks so relieved, so happy. He claps me on the shoulder as if I have fulfilled his every wish. Demetri also shakes my hand, for even though he does not participate in our particular lifestyle, he still holds respect for those who do.
Or so I thought.
I know you're going to kill her. Talk to me once we see Carlisle off.
Demetri's thoughts take me by surprise. I had assumed that I had everyone fooled. I have certainly fooled Carlisle, though, and I suppose that is all that matters. I briefly make eye contact with Demetri and nod my head slightly. Carlisle notices this, though he pretends that he doesn't. He does not want to put himself in any position that could possibly take him away from his wife and family, especially in these final hours he has away from them.
I take in a quick, sharp breath.
I can still taste her.
"You're free at midnight, right Carlisle?" I ask with my small amount of air.
"No, we're free at midnight," Carlisle smiles. "Esme is going to pick us up just outside of Volterra at 12:15."
The excitement shines in his eyes, and now I have to destroy it.
Thus is my existence.
"I'm not sure I've made a decision yet," I mumble quietly. Of course, Carlisle hears in perfect articulation. Even his thoughts are momentarily halted as he attempts to process this new bit of information.
"I'm not sure I understand," he says slowly. "Is this not what we have been waiting for? A free life?"
Her scent taints my tongue on every inhale. It is a cruel reminder why I have not yet made a decision. I want to taste her. I want to kill her. I want to drain her.
"Yes, that is what you have been waiting for. But Carlisle, you must understand . . . I don't have anyone out there waiting for me. This is all I've ever known."
The barren stone walls and the vaulting ceilings, the hordes of vampires and the human receptionist, the dark, dank tunnels and the endless midnight; it is all I've ever known.
"What am I, chopped liver?" Carlisle attempts to joke, though the pain is evident in his voice. I think I have underestimated the attachment between us. After all, Carlisle first changed me in the hopes of a companion. We have lived together for one-hundred years, Carlisle sacrificing those years for me instead of spending them with his wife.
And what am I doing now?
I'm throwing it all in his face for some blood.
I disgust myself . . .
. . . But I want her so badly.
"I just need some time to think," I groan, rubbing my temples with my pointer fingers. "But, Carlisle, either way you have to go. I have kept you here far too long."
"You have kept me nowhere, Edward. This was my choice. All mine. Do not take credit for my decisions," he snarls, and it is one of the few times I have seen Carlisle anywhere close to menacing. "Do you understand?" he prompts.
"I understand," I begrudgingly allow.
We spend the rest of the evening in Carlisle's barren study. It is the room farthest from the center commons, and it is impossible to smell her here. Even so, I have the scent etched perfectly into my memory, and every second without her is physically painful.
I am so thirsty.
Though there are no mirrors, I am completely positive that my eyes are a charcoal black.
All of Carlisle's belongings are packed away in bags and placed in the corner of his study. We stand silently, both in quiet contemplation. When the hours turn to minutes Carlisle begins to pace. His mind worries about Esme and his family's trip, though, realistically, there could not possibly be anything to hinder it. I am almost grateful at midnight. Finally, he will stop worrying and we can leave. We meet Demetri at the exit of the underground city. Of course, we are not allowed to truly leave until Aro dismisses us.
It is 12:12 when Aro finally arrives. We all stand at his approach.
Carlisle silently removes himself from the Volturi robes. While Aro stands and watches, he folds them and hands them to him. Aro does not show any emotion. He simply tucks the robes inside of his own and turns to me. Carlisle is now nothing more than an unpleasant acquaintance.
"Edward, my boy. Are you staying?" He already knows I am. I have no luggage and I am not handing him the robes.
"For the time being, yes."
"Ah. Edward, you are the king of ambiguous answers," he smiles as if it is some private joke between the two of us. I manage a sort of grimace in response. Aro turns to leave and we are finally dismissed. Carlisle, Demetri and I pick up a few suitcases and walk out into the Volterra streets.
They are almost completely deserted of people save for the stray prostitute or two. Even so, we walk quickly and stay in the shadows. It is almost impossible for any human to see us, though I still keep a monitor of the thoughts nearest to us. After all, the moon is particularly bright tonight, and it gives us an ethereal sort of glow. I float through a lot dreams. Seeing dreams is one of the strangest things about being able to read minds. It is like swimming through a vortex of thought and emotion, both of which are so pure and unedited that every mind is equally childlike.
Demetri moves close to me as if afraid I am going to run. I do have to admit that I considered it a few times. After all, she is waiting for me behind closed doors. I wonder what she is thinking. I wonder if she is anticipating her death.
Hell knows I am.
When we near the end of the city Carlisle quickens his speed. Demetri and I speed up to accommodate him as he rounds the corner.
The woman I see just outside the gates is the same woman I've seen for over a hundred years in Carlisle's thoughts. Her beauty truly is timeless in its elegance. It is the type that fits in any decade, and is immune to changes in style. But what makes her as beautiful as she is, is the amount of love that Carlisle holds for her. When his thoughts are filled with anticipation, my thoughts are filled with anticipation. When his thoughts are filled with exuberance, my thoughts are filled with exuberance. When his thoughts are filled with love for Esme, my thoughts are filled with love for Esme.
Behind her are two more couples, one of which Carlisle has seen before. The other two are mysteries to us both, and I quickly scan the minds of them. One is completely normal while the other perplexes me. I have a small inkling that I am seeing things that haven't happened yet.
"Carlisle," Esme coos. They embrace.
And this is what I have prevented.
The rest of the party shifts from foot to foot. I see the stunning blond Rosalie with her mate Emmett meet my eye. Emmett wonders why I am still wearing Volturi robes while Carlisle is not. As far as he knows, I am joining Carlisle on this trip. Alice, on the other hand, sees a family scene without me there.
I stare at her, not understanding why I am hurt by my absence in this perfect portrait.
She stares unflinchingly back at me with a somewhat benign challenge in her expression.
Edward.
It is Alice. I continue to stare at this strange, small vampire.
If you kill my future sister I swear to God I will hunt you down, rip you to pieces, and burn you.
My eyes widen and I growl, bearing my teeth at her. I have no idea what in the hell she's talking about, but I am immediately put on the defensive. Her images of this strange future do not hold me or whatever sister she is ensuring I don't kill. Her mind shows again a family of six. She looks exceedingly frustrated by this, and turns away from my gaze.
When she turns I notice that everyone else in our presence is watching our interaction. I, in fact, am crouching down in preparation for a fight. Alice's mate glares at me, his mind clearly defensive of Alice. He even moves in front of her slightly, but she is no longer paying any attention to me. Her mind is a continuous string of images that do not include me, and I don't understand why she keeps thinking the same thoughts, the same . . . visions?
Demetri places a hand on my shoulder and I turn to glare at him. My nerves feel wired and frayed. Everything is being thrown at me from every angle and I can't seem to get my bearings. Carlisle looks at me with an expression both grave and concerned. Even now, with Esme in his arms, I am tainting his happiness with my problems. I huff as I attempt to regain control of my emotions, my fingers flexing at my sides.
Carlisle approaches me with a steady and smooth gait.
"Please consider joining our family. I know this is all you have ever known, but please, consider it," he says softly as we part.
"Thank you for the offer, Carlisle. Thank you for everything." I notice that Alice glares at me as I speak. She is the only one that truly grasps how desolate my tone is.
They all turn away from Demetri and me, the two cloaked vampires. They look almost human when they walk. It must leak into them after being around humans for so long. They even have the mannerisms. They occasionally touch their hair, they swing their arms, they hold hands and move them around. I watch with a small amount of longing and a larger amount of confusion. Demetri is the one who ends up turning us back into Volterra.
"It's strange, isn't it?" he asks as we walk. The way they are almost like humans. I bet you sympathize, though; especially considering your special… diet.
"No, I think it's strange, too. I can't imagine ever living like that. Surrounded by humans all of the time . . . I find it hard just to be in a room with only a few of them."
Our feet echo across the deserted, stone pathway as we walk. Our voices are muted – too low for any human to hear. The closer we get to the entrance of the guard area, the more my mind focuses on what is awaiting me in my bedroom.
Still, I am so thirsty.
I refocus to realize that Demetri is talking again.
"Your power to abstain still astounds me. Both you and Carlisle are freaks of vampire nature."
"Isn't that a bit contradictory?" I smile.
Perhaps, he allows, sharing my smile.
We are well on our way through the dark tunnels when Demetri speaks again.
"Where are you going after this?" he asks calmly, though I know exactly what he is getting at through his thoughts. He is wondering if I am going to go to her, and if I am going to drain her. He wonders even though he already knows the answer. He himself drained his singer in less than thirty seconds right in front of the entire guard. Of course, Demetri wasn't exactly trying to stay away from human blood at the time.
"I'm going to my room, I think," I say in a remarkably smooth tone, though my tongue runs slowly along my teeth in preparation.
Edward, try and think about what you're doing. I know that you're better than this. I know that you're better than us, he says fervently. And then we have stopped moving and the walls of the dark tunnels have shadowed his features in a way that looks almost vile.
"I am no better than you, Demetri. Trust me on that one," I reply, chuckling humorlessly.
But if you don't kill this girl, Aro doesn't control you anymore. You're better than him, Edward. He won't have any hold on you anymore. You will be free from this.
"Free . . . and then what, Demetri? So, I'm free? Then where the fuck do I go?"
The times that I use profanity are uncommon, but when I do use it, it is surely with good cause. I figure that it is something ingrained into me by the culture I grew up in, but in particular by my mother. One of the few things I remember from my human years is the soap in my mouth after I copied the little boy at school's words. Even now, it feels despicable on my tongue. Demetri stares at me with a vacant sort of expression. He doesn't know the answer to my question. I don't know the answer to my question.
I don't know what to do except to give in because it's easier than breaking out.
If I had a heart, it would be beating rapidly. If I had blood, my cheeks would be red with anger. If I had a soul, it would be ashamed.
His silence tells me everything.
"That's what I thought," I snap. "I'm going to my room."
I sound like a petulant child but I don't care. I pass Aro and Caius, both engrossed in deep conversation. Aro looks up when I pass. He notices the determination in my face and feels victorious.
As I turn the corner down into the hall that leads to my room, I pause. I inhale deeply. Only faint traces of Isabella linger here. I feel the nostalgic remnants of adrenaline course through me. My fingers form ugly claws and my muscles clench in anticipation.
And then I panic.
My mind is racing and I cannot control it. I flee to Carlisle's study and close the door with a crash, sinking to the stone floor. The removed bookshelves leave outlines etched in the walls signifying the amount of time they were there for. My eyes run over the differences in shade; lighter where the bookshelves once were, darker where they were absent. I use these trivial facts and focus on them. I am trying to ignore all that has happened in this endless day, but, again, I fail.
I bury my face in my hands, lost and confused and so damn thirsty that my throat feels like it is on fire.
Briefly, I consider calling Carlisle. The fact that I even consider it is somewhat laughable, especially seeing as I have only just let him go. The fact that he is no longer here is somewhat isolating. I no longer have a comrade in arms in this wretched place. Of course, there is Demetri, but who the hell knows what side he's on. I can't tell from day to day.
But what is there for me outside of Volterra?
Billions of humans I won't be able to drink, Carlisle, his mate and his family. That is all there is. How is that any better than staying here and succumbing to my true nature? There is no difference. Either way I am damned and that is all there is to it.
Slowly, I stand.
I push myself from the room, walking much faster than the leisurely pace that is common between activities here. I notice them turn and stare but I block their thoughts. I don't care; I don't want to be judged. Demetri attempts to get my attention. I'm not sure I care. My mind is already set and there's no changing it.
"Edward, I –" he begins, but I push past him.
"Don't touch me," I snap. Demetri backs off, appraising me as if I were a completely different person. Aro grins to himself, perched in the corner of the great room. I don't pay any attention, but his thoughts are unguarded enough to let me know that he is proud of me.
I don't know if it is a blessing or a curse.
I hear her and smell her simultaneously. Her heartbeat is wild and frantic though I'm sure she cannot hear my approach. Our movements are too quiet for humans to hear our arrival. It is just another one of the ridiculous advantages we have over them.
I wonder if she's thinking about her imminent death. It is obvious, considering her performance at the ceremony, that she knows she is going to die. I wonder if she imagined it would take this long for me to make up my mind. I wonder if she knows I will draw it out; I wonder if she knows I will make it hurt. I wonder if she thinks I'm the monster that I am.
It occurs to me, briefly, that she must not be thinking anything at all, because even in this short range I cannot hear her thoughts. I make a noise against the stone outside of my room in order to alert her to my presence. Her heartbeat quickens, but she still doesn't think anything.
Is she stupid? Is she truly thinking nothing of her demise?
Unexplainably angered by this, I end up opening the door to my room with much more force than should have been exerted. The door creaks on its hinges, barely hanging on as I storm through.
Is it unfair that she looks exactly the opposite of what a monster should?
Yes, it is, because everything in me regards her as the cruelest kind of monster. Already, she has prevented my leave of this wretched place, separated me from my only companion, and nullified any attempt at normalcy I have strived to establish. Yet, she sits there like she is the victim. She sits there like she hasn't done anything wrong, like she hasn't ruined anyone's entire existence.
The audacity! She thinks she is the victim. That is what she thinks.
"Please don't do it," she begs me, staring with these wide eyes that scream victim, victim.
I wonder what my face looks like now. It must be murderous, because that is how I truly feel. My eyes follow a droplet of perspiration as it slides from her temple, down her cheek, down her neck. My mouth parts because I am imagining that it is actually a blood droplet, and my throat is officially up in flames. I inhale deeply through my nose and a flood of venom enters my mouth. I am swimming in it.
If it is possible to hate someone without ever speaking to them, I have succeeded.
When I open my eyes again she doesn't beg. I assume that she sees the finality in them. Begging will not help her at all.
I take measured steps closer to her. She stares back at me. She is trying to be unafraid, though her body gives her away entirely. Even though I can't hear her thoughts, her body reads like an open book. Her teeth slide down on her lower lip and bite, but not hard enough to draw blood. No, that is my job after all. She breathes too loudly and her heart pounds too hard. All of it is clouding my senses and drawing me in. There is no judgment left.
I bite.
I can't imagine anything more luxurious or more ghastly. She doesn't even scream as I pull so slowly it must be painful, but it tastes so wonderful that I simply ignore these facts. At least, I try to. They linger in the back of my mind as I try to enjoy this perfection. I become angry with them and pull harder. Her heart beat is slow now. I am running out.
Now what? Then what?
I pull back with a quick inhalation. My teeth leave a bloody semicircle in her neck.
And then she starts to scream.
It's the venom.
I stare at her; blood on my shirt, blood on my face, blood everywhere. I am drowning.
With a haste that I cannot comprehend, my mouth is back to her neck and I am pulling and tasting. There's so much venom; she will not be able to live through this. She's as good as dead and she's still screaming. My brow furrows and the blood is finally clean.
I break away in a strange haze between satiation and lust. Still, she is as good as dead. Her heart is beating, though not for long, I'm sure. When I pick her up she is both limp and weightless. The dress she wears – something I did not have the control to notice before – is splattered with her own blood. She looks like a victim in a bloody car accident.
She looks like a victim.
I lay her down on the couch in my room, drop to my knees, and beg for help.
Italicized quotes belong to Shakespeare's Macbeth.
Macbeth has just seen the ghost of Banquo, the man he ordered to be murdered under the prophecy of the Three Witches. He is wondering whether continuing to kill would be easier than no longer killing.
Thanks to revrag for the read.
You can also read this at www(dot)adifferentforest(dot)com.