Woo. 4th chapter! SO sorry it took me ages to write, writers block :( but I got a stroke of inspiration from somewhere. I can't even remember now…oh well.
Hope ya love!!
Pain is Beauty
It was black when I opened my eyes.
A numbness was surrounding me, and my hands instantly travelled down my body to my bump; as if just to check my baby was still there.
I stroked soundless circles around the place where the heartbeat was strong, and breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing.
'Mrs King?' A warm voice interrupted my thoughts, and i withdrew my hand sharply from my stomach when the baby kicked; it was as if it did not want to socialise with the owner of the voice.
My heart started to pound, my palms began to sweat; and the baby stirred deep inside me, making me shudder when it struck a delicate chord. My eyes trembled, and I struggled to open them. But I have to see whom the voice belonged to. It was a…need.
I flickered my eyes open and blinked, as the darkness of the room was so different from the darkness in my head. I regained my sight slowly, taking deep breaths to calm myself, as the image of where I was may shock me. I closed my eyes and gently, opened them again, properly, and gazed into the semi-black room.
A figure loomed above my head, a tall, luminous, statue of solace. They held an oil lamp in one hand, and it was the only light in the small room. It shone of the stranger's light skin, making it appear eerie and un-humane. A smile spread over their face, brightening up the enclosed space and warming the cockles of my heart so it stopped pounding and relaxed into a steady beat.
I didn't know what to say, so I lay, blinking as the stranger set down the lamp on an iron wrought table, and disappeared from view for a few seconds to resurface shorter, appearing to be sat on a tiny chair.
The man – for he must be male, no female could possibly be that tall or be so confident – beamed again, and nodded in a greeting. 'How are you Mrs. King?' he spoke in a calm, cocky voice, and his smile clearly showing in his voice.
When I failed to answer, he moved to hover his hand just above my forehead, feeling for a temperature. His torso came closer to me, and I swear I could see the outline of his muscular stomach across the strain of his scrubs shirt.
Which made a heat rise across my entire body, spreading from my toes along my spine and up to my face, flushing me a dark red. Which probably increased my temperature.
But he seemed satisfied, so he sat back down and tried to coax me into talking. For the second time, he said: 'how are you?' and I gasped in a lungful of air to answer him.
'Fine.' I breathed out, and a banging echo began to sound in my head. Fine, fine, fine, fine…
I closed my eyes tight and squeezed until no light could get through, lifting my hands to the throbbing pain that started at the back of my head. But as soon as I lifted my arms, they started to ache as well, all over, like they had been exercised too much and were bruised completely.
Except the last time I had done exercise was when I was ten.
I slowly relaxed my arms to their sides, wincing at each painful movement. When they were settled, I took a deep breath…and screamed as my whole body expanded and my chest constricted, tightening around something designed to heal. My leg felt like it was swelling, and my face felt puffed up and ugly.
The numb feeling had obviously worn off.
I stuck my arms to my sides, breathing shallow breaths and trying not to make anything hurt any more than it did now. For I was sure nothing could be any worse than this pain.
The man by my bedside jumped into the air, calling out random names that I couldn't hear; because inside my head I was screaming; desperate to thrash around in the bed, as if that could possibly rid me of this agony.
Two men in white coats ran in, closing the door firmly behind them. They gathered next to the first man, and began talking in low voices.
I was silently crying, just willing the pain to go away.
The three men dispersed and the tallest left the room, leaving the original stranger, and a new, unfamiliar one. They both sat by my bed and I looked from one blurred face to the other, trying to find recognition in them. But I couldn't see. My tears we restricting my vision, which only made me more hysterical.
I started whimpering and the two men glanced to each other. I saw one's lip move, and the other nodded in response. There was a few seconds of silence as I attempted not to wretch and let my head move too much, but I wanted to see what the men where doing. They were so strange; I had never seen anyone like them. They seemed so perfect, even in my distorted vision. They looked nothing like each other, but they seemed the same, someh-
The shorter man suddenly stood up, and reached into the pocket of his white coat. After a few seconds of rustling around, he produced a long needle and streched over to me, glancing once into my tear-streaked eyes.
That's when I saw them – his eyes. His mesmerising, beautiful, gold eyes.
I stared into them, transfixed. In fact, I was so captivated with his eyes that I didn't notice him tugging the bedclothes down slightly to stab the needle into my arm. He looked away quickly, and I realised that the minutes I'd thought I'd spent gazing at his eyes, were actually a few seconds.
The taller stranger still sat in the chair chuckled, and the shorter man withdrew the needle from my skin and leaned away, glaring ever so slightly at the other man. I watched as he took a deep breath in through his mouth, and held it in, seemingly to never let it out. I glanced to the other man, who was still chortling at the white-coat stranger.
The tallest stranger in scrubs looked at me and sighed. He held out his muscular arm and extended his hand, sniggering again when I stared at it in confusion and horror. To even to think about moving my arm was enough to make me squeal.
'I'm not going to bite.' He laughed, making me notice that his ash black hair bounced in sync with him when he talked.
The white-coat doctor mumbled something I couldn't hear, and the laughing man nodded, to go on to say: 'the medicine we just injected into your arm will numb your body. You wont feel pain when you lift your arm anymore.'
This was a little confusing, but I was just glad that I wouldn't feel the pain in my body anymore. I moved my arm awkwardly, slowly, not believing the man so easily. But I wanted to believe him – he seemed trustworthy.
As soon as I moved my arm slightly, the dark haired man clapped my hand and shook it enthusiastically, pumping my arm up and down. 'My name is Emmett Cullen, and I have reason to believe that yours is Rosalie King.'
So what did y'all think?
I will post another chapter if I get 5+ reviews, so please leave your responses, as they keep me motivated! :D
Tbh, I don't know if medicine was available in the 1930s (twilightfanficgirl, you were right ;] so me changed it for you!) I tried researching it online, but came up squids. :(
So any corrections are appriciated, thank you!
Again, this is dedicated to twilightfanficgirl, because, well, she's frigging awesome. OK?
Love you all! 3
Lily x (Meh, I'm change to my real name now, instead of my alter-ego name.)
Love, Coral.x