Chapter 3: "One Infinite Moment"

Disclaimer: The proprietary elements of Breaking Dawn, including its original treatment and all of the characters, belong solely to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Bella's POV

The spot of heat in my phantom womb felt so real. I knew that Carlisle, of necessity, had performed a hysterectomy immediately following the C-section just a few short hours ago. That had been the plan. But the fire there was so real, it was hard to believe I was imagining it. Besides, I'd felt this kind of pain before. Only one thing I knew of could cause it: vampire venom.

The venom's action had been delayed because, according to Carlisle, "only a minute amount was absorbed by the neighboring tissues in my abdominal cavity." And even then, it happened gradually—over the course of several hours as I slept. But the infiltrating poison had now entered my bloodstream, and the process was escalating.

The burning grew—rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I'd ever felt. The throbbing pulse behind it was a steady measure of the venom's progress, as the flames began igniting other areas, as well. They were spreading through my chest and lungs, scalding their way up my throat. Licking at my face.

Edward saw them there. And panicked.

"Carlisle," he choked, and the agony I heard in his voice was as painful as the relentless flames. "There must be something we can do…please!"

Carlisle put a steadying hand on Edward's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son."

I heard a low sob, and Edward's arms were around me again.

"Bella," he murmured over and over, rocking me back and forth. "Bella, I love you. Bella, I'm sorry."

I was glad Esme had come for Elizabeth; it was getting more and more difficult to maintain any semblance of control. All I wanted was to die. To never have been born. The whole of my existence did not outweigh this pain.

"Stay…s-stay with me," I made him promise, before I could no longer speak.

"I'm here. I'll never leave you," he assured me.

And, for a never-ending space, that was all there was. Just the fiery torture, Edward's reassurances, and eventually, my agonized shrieks—pleading for death to come. Nothing else, not even time. So that made it infinite, with no beginning and no end. One infinite moment of pain.

"I know it hurts. I love you. I'm so sorry," Edward sobbed each time I screamed.

But there was nothing he could do. The endless burn raged on.

Edward's POV

I felt as if I'd died a thousand deaths by the end of the first hour. There was no greater torture, no crueler punishment than watching her suffer. My Bella. Dying.

All I wanted was to die, as well. The whole of my existence did not outweigh this pain. But I had to be strong. For her. So I focused on the beating of her heart. The truest, most significant sound in my world.

That rhythmic, beautiful sound was still audible, after all: thud, thud, thud. But it wasn't the only sound. Were I to let my mind consider the agony behind the piercing screams that reverberated now in my all too sensitive ears—thud, thud—I would go insane. Worse still were the times she bit down on her trembling lower lip to stifle her cries. Thud, thud, thud. This was madness.

I would have given anything to take her suffering upon myself. To spare her this interminable torment. Bella did not deserve this—she was an innocent victim. And I, as always, was the heartless monster responsible for her pain. It would have been better (for her) if she'd never known me. That we'd not fallen in love. What was I thinking to have sought her hand and made her my wife? This frail mortal. This defenseless human girl. The searing agony in my frozen heart was inadequate penance for my selfish folly—I knew better than this. Ironically, that realization brought with it a sense of sadistic satisfaction, accentuated each time Bella shrieked my hideous name—I was getting exactly what I deserved.

"Edward," Carlisle's voice was low and ridiculously composed. He was still by my side. "Are you all right, son?"

"Leave us," I hissed, whipping my head in his direction. Further evidence that I truly was a monster.

"Try and remember that her suffering won't last forever," Carlisle said quietly.

Three days at most, he added wordlessly.

"What about morphine? Is there nothing we can do to ease her pain?" I whimpered, grasping at straws.

"Not after it's begun," he responded, then allowed me to read his thoughts:

Injecting a narcotic into her system at this point would only result in paralytic inefficiency; the numbing effects of the medicine would be completely irrelevant now that the venom is searing her veins.

I winced and made a low, disgusted sound in the back of my throat. "It's so unjust. She shouldn't have to suffer. Not Bella."

"I know, son," he said. I know. And then he left us.

I'd never felt so alone—so utterly powerless.

I struggled to maintain my tenuous composure as she writhed in my arms—thud…thud, thud. I wanted to hit something. Thud, thud. To break through the window-wall of glass and let the shards cut me into a million pieces—but I knew they would not. They couldn't. I was wretchedly indestructible.

"Edward," she gasped, and my head snapped up. "I…Edward, I…"

I squeezed my eyes shut tight and pressed my forehead against hers. My name on the angel's lips was blasphemy.

"I. Love. You." she finally managed through clenched teeth.

I moaned at the torture, and her grip tightened on my shirt.

Let me die, let me die, let me die, I prayed from the depths of my own personal hell.

Bella's POV

I'd been dimly aware of the rising of the sun through the floor-to-ceiling window twice now. I only remembered it happening more than once, because I thought it odd somehow. Hadn't the world stopped revolving two days ago?

It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but eventually, time came to mean something again.

Though the fire did not decrease one tiny degree (in fact, I began to develop a new capacity for experiencing it—a new sensitivity to appreciate, separately, each blistering tongue of flame that licked through my veins), I discovered that I could think around it. It became increasingly clearer that, though it felt impossible now, there was something that might be worth the torture.

I sensed Elizabeth was being well cared for (Edward would have seen to that), but I wished it were possible for her to be cradled in her father's loving arms. As much as I needed him—as much as I'd depended on the presence of those arms around me—Elizabeth ought to have taken precedence. My guilt for depriving her of both parents during her first precious days of life was nearly as intense as the scorching pain I felt now.

Life was precious. But I didn't feel sorry that mine was slipping away. Part of me realized that the sooner my heart stopped beating, the sooner I'd be with Edward for eternity. And Elizabeth would be all right. She had to be.

I recognized the morning of the third day as the beginning of the end. But, with the dawn came the simultaneous understanding that 'the end' signified another new beginning. My destiny with Edward had always been part of one eternal round. I knew that now, beyond any shadow of a doubt. It was all so clear to me—I was born for this. For him.

My hearing got clearer and clearer, as well; I found myself counting the frantic, fluttering beats of my own barely-human heart to mark the final, fleeting moments of my temporal existence. Simultaneously—almost naturally now—I also measured the shallow breaths hissing through my teeth, instinctively comparing them to the low, even breaths that came from somewhere close beside me. I yearned to respire as peacefully. To finally be at rest.

And then I heard his angelic voice. So melodious and beautiful.

"Bella? Can you hear me?"

I wanted so much to answer him, but I wouldn't make his pain worse—if I opened my mouth, I knew I would scream. The racking fire went right on burning me, but there was so much space in my head now. Room to ponder, room to remember, room to look ahead, and still endless room left over in which to suffer.

My heartbeat, already too fast, picked up—the fire drove its rhythm to a new, frenzied pace.

"Carlisle," Edward called. His voice was low but clear.

Carlisle entered the room, Emmett at his side. Their footsteps were so distinct, I could even tell that Carlisle was on the right and foot ahead of Emmett.

"Listen," Edward told them, exhausted.

The loudest sound in the room was the sloshing echo of my dilapidated heart, still pounding furiously in futile defiance.

"Ah," Carlisle said. "It's almost over."