Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters no matter how much I wish I did. Nor do I own the title of the chapter. Derek Walcott does.
Lions in the Cages of their Choice
She knew. No matter what my extra sense might suggest, Bella Swans mind was far from a blank slate. She had tricked, interrogated, and researched her way to the truth. All without my knowledge.
If Bella had done all that with me none the wiser, what else could she accomplish? The words almost anything appeared much too stark in my mind and I couldn't help but recall my family's warnings.
"She's dangerous", Emmett's strong build making a sharp contradiction.
"You've let this go too far", Jasper's face as calm and cold as his voice.
"Put an end to it. Now", Rosalie's eyes gleaming with fanaticism.
Easy for them to say. They didn't have to feel all the things that I did. The damnable thirst that would rise up in me whilst I stood in her presence. The desire for her blood, her life force, became more prominent the longer I lingered near her. Each beat of her heart brought me closer to the unsurpassable reward. The unforgivable sin.
For these violent urges had evolved into something more. Something elusive, yet brimming with power. Something I was uncharacteristically frightened to label.
It was this new feeling that drove me to offer myself up as a chaperone (though if I had used that word out loud, Bella would most certainly not have agreed). It drove me to follow her to Port Angeles and it launched me straight into a confrontation that my heart of hearts knew was unavoidable. And now she knew the truth.
While part of me, the dreamer (the traitor), was dazzled with all the possibilities that had opened up, the other part, the rationalist, knew better. I had become all the more dangerous to her. Spending time with Bella could quite easily lead to a messy and unthinkable result
Despite this knowledge, I knew I was in too deep to simply walk away. She was a beacon of light and I, the moth being drawn in. Still worse, I knew the reverse was equally true. The line I now walked was more precarious than the edge of a cliff.
I lifted my head off the wall it had been resting against and let it fall back again with a resounding smack. Bits of plaster and chalk-like dust flew outwards from the impact. I, however, felt no pain. I had known that I wouldn't and now I had a wall to repair before Esme found out.
