THREE:

SO . . . I'M NOT DEAD

"Do you think she's alright?" My angel's velvet voice was first to reach me . . . "Probably just in shock", came another response. One thing was certain . . . mercy had been granted to me. The fire was gone, and – the fight was over . . . Clarity. My vision was cleared again, and even more . . . more enhanced. Colors were different. The sun's glare that shined through the floor to ceiling windows seemed to sparkle, somehow exposing a new kind of color I had never known before. I wanted to stand. All it took was the desire and in a precise, oddly ideal movement, I was on my feet staring straight ahead at one of the angels – Edward – who stood cautiously several feet away by the door way. Through peripheral vision I could make out Carlisle, also watchful, positioned just centimeters behind me on my right.

I didn't get this anymore . . . any of it. The angels told me I could not possibly be living - but the somewhat familiar surroundings from outside spoke other wise. A crooked smile broke across Edward's expression then, he seemed amused. "Please stop calling us that. We're . . . nothing like", he paused, "That." Burning . . . my throat was burning still, parched. I shook my head, as if consequently the feeling would miraculously disappear, and I would wake up from this dream in which Angels existed and everything – including myself judging by a flash glance at a reflection – was faultless. Edward shook his head laughing lowly. "You are very much living . . . in one way or another", he began again. "And – incase you're wondering – Yes . . . I can hear your thoughts." I blinked once, still searching for lucidity, though the action felt unnatural now – or more – unnecessary.

Then, abruptly, a scent invaded my nostrils. It was rust like but . . . appealing. Pulsing . . . flowing. It was pure corruption . . . "Grab her!" Edward exclaimed startling my trail of thought, but in the same order I coiled sprinting out of both the angels grasps, then leaped, head first, through the glass wall. Bits of shattered glass fell like crystal hail stones around me, but I landed easily, without so much as a stagger, and was off and running just before catching the sound of a second set of legs making contact with the damp, snow covered earth. "You stay behind!" I could hear Carlisle instruct. He was near, but not near enough. This was amazing; I was four feet, nine inches at barely one hundred pounds moving faster than any Olympic athlete. "Erin No!" Carlisle called after me. He was wasting his breath is what he was doing.

My nostrils felt flared now - were burning. The alluring scent was near enough that I could feel an odd tasting substance oozing inside of my mouth. A few more leaps . . . My angel was nowhere in sight now. I lurched up into the opening of a spruce making my way across an extending coffee brown limb where I was finally able to match the scent to its owner. A young man – teenager- maybe somewhere in my age range . . . No! I argued with myself, NO!

Only to lose against my own will in the end . . . Everything was a blur from the instant I coiled and then lurched. I could just barely recall my victim's struggle . . . his legs finally giving in as he collapsed with me to the ground . . . his welled up eyes that plead for life . . . and then me . . . kneeled over him on the ground, cringing away from the pale corpse. He was younger than I'd guessed during my burning rampage, a preteen at the most . . . I was about to fall back into the ground when a set of arms caught me.

I looked up to meet Carlisle's weary gaze. "It's okay", he whispered. "You made a mistake . . . it happens all the time." I could feel my jaw tighten. My clothes were tainted with blood stains. "I – killed a kid", I managed, shaking my head in a slow back and forth jerk, "That doesn't . . . happen . . . all the time", I breathed. In the same I buried my face into his shoulder and in another sway he carried me up. "It's just an accident my love", he soothed. "I'll dispose of it", I heard Edward unexpectedly. Through peripheral vision I could see him coolly walking by our side. One of his hands timidly brushed along my arm. "I'm going to take her home . . . see what we can do about a change", Carlisle responded . . .

I was in a large circular bathtub, constructed of some sort of granite, located in the master bedroom. Moist steam was rising from the water that surrounded me, but I could only feel a slightly distinguishable warm contrast against my own skin. Carlisle stood just alongside me facing away, an oversized white towel clutched in his right hand. Motionless, he seemed to be lost in thought, and in that moment more guilt on top of guilt flooded me. "I didn't mean to be bad. Please, don't be mad at me", I said in a low mumble. He chuckled. Even his laughter sounded like it should belong in a symphony. "I am not mad at you little one", he answered. His tone was friendly enough; the precautious edge absent for the first time. "I'm simply contemplating how we will go about getting you a new wardrobe." Wardrobe – clothes – right. It was hard to worry about such a thing when there were so many other questions blending around in my mind.

It took me a few hesitant seconds to respond, and when I did, the answer was solely senseless. Just like me I guess. "I'm not little", I spoke. In my voice I could hear a noticeable change. It was easier sounding, more . . . attractive now, with a certain chimed pitch to it. Carlisle pursed his lips then, obviously holding back more laughter. He turned back to face in my direction. "Then I suppose you won't mind telling me your actual age, since Edward has been too preoccupied to do so himself." I let myself roll onto my stomach and sink deeper into the water; the tub itself was filled two feet. Then I dipped my head down under. When I resurfaced my short cropped black hair was drenched and I could feel a few micro sized chips of glass fall away. Carlisle's expression almost looked entertained. "I'm fifteen", I answered in an awkward fashion. And then at the unlucky number's exact end, his expression reverted back to concerned. Consequently - now I was concerned.

He sighed, shaking his head once. "Figures why Edward was holding back . . . you're so young." "But I don't want to leave I want to stay with you", I responded, more senselessness. He seated himself at the tub's edge. "But of course you will angel. We would never send you away." In a light swish forward I reached for the towel in his hand and in another I was standing out of the tub on the marble floor, the towel draping over me, nearly twice my size. "I don't want to go, I want to stay with you", I repeated. "You will angel", he brought his hypnotizing gaze back up to entrap me once more. "You will always stay with us." The words were soft and sympathetic. I hated that – the sympathy – but I loved it just as much. I loved being able to believe – to know – that my angel would never leave me.