I had accepted the fact that vampires existed, I had accepted the fact that my skin made rainbows in the sun, I had accepted that I needed to drink blood in order to survive. All of these things I had accepted, but I didn't know if I could accept the fact that I could hear everyone's thoughts. That was pushing the boundaries of my sanity. I sat in his study as he explained the Volturi Coven. Aro, the presumed leader, could apparently read every thought you had ever had simply by making contact with your skin. Marcus, the silent one, could sense the relationship between two people. And Caius, the white-haired one, had no extra ability.
He had told me all this and I could make out his memories as clearly as if I had been by his side all that time ago. I could hardly doubt I could read minds after that. That was the same day he told me his past from the 1650's to now.
He had focused on his studies mostly, because that was the core of his existence. He had lived through many breakthroughs in medical science, and had even been involved in one. He still found himself unsavory, or so he had called it, but I could not figure it out.
He was amazing; his resistance to human blood was amazing. He was all but immune to it. I could only hope to gain that kind of control one day. He had faith in me, it was in his thoughts. He didn't mind my reading his mind, and even said that it would take a while for me to get a handle on and control my power. Something I wasn't looking forward to.
We were, well, mainly me, happy that neither of us, especially him, had a significant other. I would not be happy if he were to get one. Though, when one thinks about it, it would help me gain control of my power faster. But for the present time, I was happy we had no female companions.
It was strange how sharp my memory was. Over a year had passed and I could still tell you what happened on each day. My eyes had changed to the honey color of Carlisle's eyes six months after my change, and a month after that I had my second human encounter.
That time I had controlled myself, and now, a year and two months after my change, I was in a classroom with fourteen other beating hearts. I was happy I didn't need air to survive, or I'd surely be dead. But Carlisle said I could handle it, so I came here on his wishes.
I had three minutes left in this obnoxiously small class with fourteen hearts tempting me. I was happy I had gone hunting this morning. I would have to go again tonight. Perhaps I would take more than usual.
The teacher looked up from his desk and finally dismissed us. I was first out the door, as was expected. I may have moved a little too fast. I would have to be more careful with that later on. I walked quickly, but I still heard their thoughts and words.
They knew I was different. How I was silent, how sometimes I wouldn't move, throughout the day I had heard many of them ask themselves if I was breathing. They then said that that idea was ridiculous and never thought of it again. I almost wanted to laugh, but thought it would be better not to. There was nothing remotely funny in biology.
But that was behind me. Now I had tomorrow to suffer through. I wouldn't think too much about it. This was my last year of school before what would be college and Carlisle wanted me to continue out my education before I fully forgot everything. During the night for the past ear I had studied his books, and he was thrilled to have someone to converse with about his work. And after this year of pointless torture he was going to have me go to college. He said I could go into any field I wanted, but I knew he would be ecstatic if I were to go into medicine. I had to admit, I was genuinely interested in it and I didn't want to study anything else at the moment.
Carlisle's job gave him a very good amount of money, so he stayed in the modern age. We each had a vehicle, and it made travel much easier. The people at school stared, yes, but they soon turned to each other and talked about today's studies. I was thankful to be going home. Not many people knew where our house was, and for that I was thankful.
It meant less stares, and less thoughts. I had been working on trying to tune it out, but with only Carlisle, whose thoughts were very interesting, that work wasn't progressing too much.
That school led us to the end of 1919 and the beginning of 1920. The start of a new decade. This was also the year I began questioning Carlisle. I didn't question too much, just two things.
The first being myself. Why did he insist on my education? I liked it, yes, but why was it so adamant to him? I asked him this, and as usual, he thought before answering. I was kind enough to listen to him verbally and not just mentally.
He said it helped with my control, and he also said that it would broaden my view of the world, help me understand more of it. This I understood, but when he bought a piano, I was lost. But the second topic was much different.
After three hundred years (or a rough estimate of that), why hadn't he chosen a mate? Had he met no one in those years that visually pleased him? Every time I brought it up a single face popped into his thoughts, but I could never make too much out of it. I remembered her light and soft brown eyes, and her caramel curls, but beyond that I was lost. She was beautiful though; there was no doubt about that.
The piano though. Why he had bought something like that was beyond me, and not much went beyond me. He thought I would enjoy it, but I thought differently. I had never held an interest for music before. Many nights I sat on that bench, staring that the keys before me as if they were the devil incarnate. Once or twice I would set my fingers on them lightly, but quickly drew away, not knowing how to draw music from the dreaded thing.
Many months I sat on that bench, and it started to grow on me. it was beautiful, I learned. The finished wood, the polished white and black of the keys. I remember the day well. It was June 20th, what would have been my 19th birthday, when I played my first notes. I played nothing at first, just random notes, but I let my mind take over and soon the random notes turned into a song. I heard Carlisle's surprise, and I realized what I was playing reminded me fully of him. The soft notes could remind me of no one else.
He came down the stairs, a small smile on his face. Though the notes reminded me of him, this was no where near being a beautiful song. It had no melody, yet. That was the day when I decided to learn to play the piano.
After then I didn't keep track of the days. I didn't even give much thought to the months. I only concentrated on my studies and my self-taught piano skills. Carlisle commented on how well I was doing, and he usually kept to himself, for which I was thankful.
Usually while he was at work, I was at school. I was now attending college, taking medical courses. We both held night shifts. It just made life easier, and we had the days to ourselves. Sometimes I would go for a small walk in the surrounding forest, but usually I stayed and played the piano. Since those first keys I had advanced a great deal.
Now Carlisle's song had melody and sounded much better than what I had originally played. Even Carlisle said it was wonderful. He had no idea that the song was my musical interpretation of him, and I liked it that way. He never asked me the inspiration for the music I worked on, and if he ever did, I didn't know if I would be able to tell him he was that inspiration.
But other than that, I had given up, for the time being, on controlling my power. I could live with the thoughts, I had learned, if I only concentrated on one at a time, and ignored the rest. That's what I had been doing, and it had become easier to block the thoughts that way.
There were a number of thoughts I knew very well. I knew which ones to avoid at which times during the day, and I knew which ones were peaceful. There was one in particular that I enjoyed listening to. Yes, it was an invasion of privacy, but it was like an internal radio. I was too weak to not listen. Carlisle wouldn't approve, but what he didn't know, didn't hurt him.
But the one day, her thoughts were filled with pain, but joy at the same time. I actually listened to what she was thinking about, and she was giving birth. At this I couldn't help but smile. Birth, I thought, was an amazing thing. While extremely painful, it brings someone new into this world, someone who has the chance to make a difference. It was a beautiful act in and of itself.
For the next few days I stayed with that woman, whose name I learned was Esme. She only ever had eyes for her son, and I could tell she loved him with all her being. She never once thought of the father, only how she had finally become a mother and her son was there. He wasn't healthy, but the doctors said she had nothing to worry about.
That was why, on the third morning, I was surprised to hear distress in her thoughts. They were, as usual, centered on the child, but this time it wasn't good. They only said, "The doctors were lying." I was concerned as her thoughts flashed about her jumping off a cliff or hanging herself on the tree in back of her house. She seemed intent on jumping.
This gentle woman killing herself… I could see the reason, but I didn't want her to die. She seemed to be the only one in the world besides Carlisle and myself, that I had come across, who understood the evil in the world. Honestly, I didn't want her to die. I would be distraught, even if only for a little while.
I did the only thing I could think of. I told Carlisle. I told him everything. I told him I had been listening in the past few days, I told him about her little boy, and how euphoric she was about him, and how her whole life was centered on his life. He seemed non-interested in the whole thing until I mentioned her name. I had said her name on accident, but that sent him into his caring persona. He wanted to know when she planned on taking her life.
I tried to find her thoughts, but it was difficult. They were very quiet, and they were concentrating on her little boy, and how she would soon be with him. I looked at him sadly.
"She already jumped," I said. I heard her thoughts become surrounded by the thoughts of others', and they were all assuming she was already dead. They were all beginning to concentrate on getting her to the morgue in the hospital. I told all of this to Carlisle and he left immediately.
I walked around the house, thinking. This woman, whom I had never actually met, had my attention fully. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, and I was worried about her. It… wasn't like me. I didn't know why I didn't want anything ill to fall upon her, but I couldn't bear the thought of it.
I didn't know when Carlisle would be home, but I knew it would be a while. I paced, I played the piano. Anything to get my mind off the lady and Carlisle.
They arrived shortly after dark. She was still alive, but barely. He laid her on the couch and did what I would never be able to do.
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