AN And we're off to New Hampshire...
Mood music Flyleaf 'I'm So Sick'
Saliva 'Holding on'
Many many many thanks to Vi0lentserenity and jmeyer for their betaing skills. This mostrously evil chapter wouldn't have happened without their help
As always I only own a car, a cat and, well, my family owns me. Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight, I'm just thankful she lets us play.
I was alone, suspended in a thick and directionless black that pressed in on me from all sides and seeped into my chest, filling it with a viscous substance. It tortured my insides, sliding over my lungs, my heart, gripping their walls and chafing their membranes. I had to fight to breathe against the pressure surrounding and filling my body. A pathetic dribble of air was all I could manage and the pressure rolling over me quickly forced it out in a puff between my lips. And the pain, the unbearable burning pain. What was happening to me? I tried to open my eyes but my lids were too heavy. I tried to scream, taking in another minute gulp of air, but a feeble wheeze was the only sound I could make. I tried again and with each attempted breath the pressure and pain increased. I could feel my chest collapsing from the inside out. My lungs were yelling at me to breathe, my mind chaotic from panic and my limbs began to thrash as they tried to fight against the invisible force that was slowly wringing my life from me.
Suddenly my arms became trapped at my sides and I realized that there were hands encircling my wrists, forcing them down. And then I understood that it wasn't something but someone that was attacking me.
Fuck you!
Enraged, I twisted and thrashed, trying to loosen them from the grip, but as I struggled the pressure around me grew, my arms quickly became weak and useless and a new pain, as if a sledgehammer had been swung at me, crashed onto my chest. My body convulsed and shook at the agony and flashes of light exploded behind my eyelids. My legs kicked up into the space above me repeatedly, as if they were trying to flee from the horrific assault, but they quickly became heavy and lifeless. My mind continued to race and seethe as exhaustion began to overtake my muscles. With the last ounce of strength I had I tried to force my lungs open. I prayed for the sweet relief a breath would bring, but none came. My thoughts began to swirl and stutter, the commands to fight turning to disjointed whispers. Terror and pain began to drain away and a peaceful nothingness rose up and over me.
***
I'm racing through our forest, Emmett egging me on, pushing me to run past my physical limits. The speed is exhilarating; washing euphoria up and over me, my laughter a feeble echo thrown out into the wind behind me. The greens and yellows and earthy browns meld into a wall of Monet-like impressionism. I rush past gnarly oaks and sprawling Rhododendrons until I slow, gasping for air, and collapse onto the leaf-strewn floor beneath me, flushed, high and giggling. I'm invincible, I'm powerful, I'm superhuman and I'm suddenly exhausted? I move to stand but I'm suddenly heavier than my muscles can lift. An unseen force is pulling on my outstretched body, welding it to the floor. Alarmed I call out to Emmett. I hear him approach and his face appears above me. He's smiling, vacantly – not the Emmett I know. He cocks his head to one side in thought – definitely not the Emmett I know. And then he says the strangest thing.
"Not this time, kiddo." And his full weight comes crashing down on me.
"Her lung has collapsed."
My grandfathers voice booms from the sky above me. I try to shout out to himbut Emmet's mass is flattening me, his arms gripping my shoulders whilst his knee digs into my breast-bone. Pain ricochets through my chest. I look up in bewilderment and suddenly I'm afraid; determination is the only emotion I see in the face I have trusted and shared so much with. I search for anything to tell me that's he's just being Emmett, wrestling with me, but I'm met with coldness where warmth and laughter usually lived.
I can feel my eyes grow wide and then bulge as the pressure from his weight drives the blood to my head. Something cold and hard presses into my right side. If I could move I would have wrenched myself away from the sensation but I'm am frozen under his hollow stare.
"Hold her down. I need to re-inflate her lung"
Pop-pop's voice again. I try to look around me, searching for my grandfather, but my vision is blurring and all I can see is green melting into brown, melting into yellow.
Emmett's face is morphing into a liquid mess of flesh and features. I recoil at the sight and try to bury myself into the soft earth. I twist my head, looking to find some way to escape. A hideous groaning sound fills the air; baleful, guttural and sickening. It vibrates through my entire being, jarring in my head and shaking my bones. I realize it's Emmett making the sound and look back up at him in a moment of concern. The concern changes to horror as the sound intensifies and tendrils of mahogany hair slither out and onto shoulders that are shifting into that of a much smaller frame than Emmett's. The molten wax features slide back together to form an evil looking caricature of my mother's face. She shoves cruelly against my shoulders as a grin seeps across her mouth. I scream and she cackles. Her teeth glisten in the sunlight as she appraises me.
"Sweetheart, you don't look well, is everything okay?" Insincerity distorts her voice and she widens her grin.
I try to fight her off and she's laughing hysterically at my distress. I know this isn't my mother. She smells wrong, she acts wrong. What the hell is going on? Am I dreaming? I need to wake up!
"Who are you? Where is my mother? What have you done with her?"
She leans in, giggling and whispers in my ear. "Darling, I am her."
She slowly rights herself, the demonic smile and insane giggle still horribly present. Her gruesome mouth widens before it turns in on itself, swallowing her head whole before regurgitating Jacob's cadaverous body, dripping rancid flesh onto my face, neck, shoulders. I can feel the debris rolling slickly off of my skin as he leans in close.
"Renesmee," he moans, his putrid breath stagnates in my face. "I trusted you and you threw me aside. Look at what you've done to me." His large hands grip my neck and he sinks his fingers into my flesh.
I can feel my windpipe crushing and I wretch as the pressure triggers my gag reflex. My stomach is heaving, my breath wheezing. I close my eyes against his revolting sight, horrified by his words – I did this to him? And now I was going to die. A strangled sound escapes from my open mouth as I struggle against him, my fingers clawing at his hands, and then I simply give up. I can't move, I can't scream, I can't win.
Oh God, please, Renesmee, you need to hold on!
My father's voice pleads from above me but I'm too far gone to respond and I slip into darkness.
***
A strange hissing sound penetrated my sleepy mind, pulling me into semi-consciousness. I tried to close my ears to it not wanting to wake up just yet, I was too tired, but the hiss was persistent and I slowly became aware of my surroundings. I first noticed the air. It felt thick and heavy and its dryness scraped down my chest. It bubbled through my airways and languished in my chest, taunting my muscles as they heaved against the viscosity.
Why does my chest hurt? Why is it so hard to breathe?
Strange flashes of forest and faces mingled behind my closed eyes, slowly unraveling into a sequence of terrifying events. I gasped as I remembered my dream, the pain in my chest making me flinch as the air filled it.
What the fuck was that?
I brought my hand up to my head and winced as something stabbed into my side.
I attempted to open my eyes, but the pounding in my head protested at the intrusion of light. I groaned deeply. And then I groaned again as the vibrations from the sound rumbled against my raw bronchi.
Something hot pressed into my forearm. My eyes shot open and I flinched at the sunlight shining brightly into my bedroom.
"Too bright," I croaked
I threw free arm over my eyes to block out the too intense light. I caught a glimpse of Jacob as I did and horrific Dream-Jacob flashed across my mind. I froze; dread crawled along my skin causing the hairs to stand along my arms and my neck.
His hand left my arm and I heard his footsteps on the hardwood and the clattering of blinds being lowered.
He returned to my side, sat back down and pressed his hand back onto my arm. I flinched; the memory of Dream Jacob wouldn't go away.
"Renesmee?" His voice was low and gentle but the dread I felt continued to send goose bumps over my skin.
I sniffed the air tentatively, the breath scraping its way into my chest. Jacob. Jacob! Relief swept over me as his familiar, though more pungent than usual, scent greeted me.
"Renesmee?" He gently squeezed my forearm.
I took another cautious breath. Dad was here too. Relieved, I pulled my arm away from my face and lowered it cautiously.
I looked around. Jacob was sat in my desk chair, his knees bent almost to his ears with his puppy dog eyes trained on me protectively. He looked ridiculous, and cute. I rolled my eyes and huffed, which I immediately regretted, the huffing only irritated the burning in my chest and my abrasiveness caused a look of hurt to mar Jacob's face. That look pulled on a familiar knot in my stomach and irritated me further.
"Jake, will you please stop looking at me like that,' I said. I looked down pointedly at his hand. "And could I have little space too?" I snapped. I couldn't stop myself; he annoyed me with his over-protectiveness. I already had enough of that from my parents.
He nodded gently and pushed himself backwards. The chair legs grated on the floor, sending little shockwaves of pain through the solid pounding inside my skull. I scowled at him.
"Why are you in my room first thing in the morning?" And why do I feel like hell?
Dad came into view as he sat down beside me on my bed. I studied his face. He was smiling, but behind it there was something else. There was a tightness there that I could only describe as apprehension. "Three day's sickness hasn't dampened your tenacity. How do you feel?"
"Three days sickness?" I frowned, confused. Then I thought about the burning in my chest and how the air felt so thick, making it difficult to breathe. Gingerly I took a breath, inhaling as deeply as I could and the smoldering accelerated into a fire. I grimaced and immediately Jacob's hand was back on my arm, his face once again leaning over mine.
Slowly I let the breath back out, not wanting to encourage the fire. "Jacob, please, some room."
His understanding eyes held mine for a moment and I immediately felt mine prickle at the sadness in his.
I looked back at Dad as I struggled to push myself into a sitting position. My muscles ached and the pounding in my head took on the rhythm of a pneumatic drill. I hissed as I fell back down onto the pillows and then yelped as the stabbing in my side flared. I squeezed my eyes tightly and I felt a tear escape down my cheek.
Dad's voice was barely a whisper as he rubbed my arm. "Sweetheart, you have a tube in your chest. It's going to hurt for a while."
I heard the rustle of my comforter and the mattress beside me depress. The air by my face warmed.
"Jacob, just give her a minute." The tone in his voice was sharp.
Obviously my guard dog was hovering again. Despite the pain and my guilt at how I was speaking to him, I bristled in irritation at him. I took a few difficult breaths, trying to inhale and exhale as slowly as possible and flinching with every movement my chest made. Dad's hand smoothed rhythmically over my forehead and I began to relax. The throbbing retreated inch by inch and my muscles slowly relinquished their grip on my bones. The room was silent except for the gentle chirping of birds and the swishing of the wind through the leafy canopy of the forest that surrounded the house. The breeze through the open window carried honeysuckle, warm oak, birch, pine and damp leafy earth. They meingled with the scents of my grandmother's collection of heritage roses that trailed over the latticed fence surrounding the garden.
Dad's hand grew slower. I dissolved into my exhaustion. He began to hum quietly and my mind, comforted by the swirling aromas and sounds, began to drift. I recalled warm evenings, Moby Dick, Little Women and the lulling narrative as one of my parents would read to me. The soft feather pillow cradled my head as I'd snuggle deeper into my comforter and a warm hand would stroke my brow.
Wait! Realization flicked at my temples and sucked me back to reality.
I opened my eyes, bewildered. "Dad, help me up please."
He reached under my arms and slowly pulled me up to a sitting position. I sucked in a breath as a new pain pinched. Dad paused and I looked up at him questioningly.
"Catheter," he explained.
Nice.
Jacob shot behind me and fussed with my pillows. I rolled my eyes.
Once I was settled against them I took a moment to try to collect my thoughts. If I was the same temperature as dad what did that mean? There was an IV in my hand; the skin was discolored around the point of insertion. I toughed a finger to my tongue and sniffed at the liquid left behind on the tip; saliva, not venom. I swallowed, testing my throat for signes of burning instead of the mild tickle I usually felt when I needed blood. I smiled a my silliness. If I wasn't human anymore I wouldn't be finding it difficult to breathe and I wouldn't need an IV so I really didn't need to be checking out any other signs. I thought back to Jake's hand being on my arm and how much hotter than usual it had felt, and how warm Dad's hand had felt. I frowned in confusion and looked back at Jake and my Dad. They were hiding something. I narrowed my eyes.
I took a deep breath, ignoring the loud protesting in my lungs and a hacking cough vibrated through my battered chest, bringing on a new wave of pain. I held my hand out as they both moved forward to help me. Damn it, breathing was hard! It took me a minute to regain my composure. Finally I slumped back into the pillows. I was frustratingly weak.
"What's going on? Why is there an IV in my arm, why does my chest feel like I've inhaled lava, why have I lost 3 days and why am I the same temperature as you?" The sentence came out in broken pieces interspersed with shallow breaths. I looked around me and sniffed the air looking for my mother's scent. She wasn't here. "Why isn't mom here?" I demanded.
Dad's hands pressed together almost prayer like over his mouth before spreading out to rub up and over his face and then returning to his mouth again. He looked tired, if that were possible. "What do you remember?" he asked.
"I don't remember anything." All I could remember was that freakishly real dream I had, and I did not want to think about that again for the rest of my existence.
"You developed a lung infection. You were in your bedroom with Esme when you collapsed. You've been in and out of consciousness since then. The infection got out of control very quickly and your lung - collapsed." He flinched as he said the word. "The IV in your arm is delivering antibiotics and electrolytes into your blood." He held up what looked like an asthma inhaler- steroids. "Now you're awake you'll need to take this too. You have a tube in your chest to keep your lung inflated as it heals." Dad's voice was strained as he struggled over the words. I could see the muscles in his neck twitching as he tried to keep control of the calm expression he carefully wore.
That explained the burning in my chest, the pain in my side, the difficulty breathing and my tiredness – I mentally ticked off my symptoms - but it didn't explain my apparent lack of warmth, nor why mom wasn't here.
"And?"
Jacob shuffled his feet on the floor. Dad shot him a warning look. I knew that look. Jacob had something to say and Dad wasn't about to let him say it.
"And, your body has been maintaining a temperature similar to your ambient temperature."
"What does that mean?" Despite the news of my dramatic collapse I felt a shiver of excitement and it showed in my tone.
I noted another warning look towards Jacob. Jacob glared back at my father.
"We don't know what it means darling. Right now I want you to concentrate on resting and getting better."
'You didn't answer my question about mom. Where is she?"
There was a knock at my door and Grandma's face appeared. Finally someone who might give me some honest answers, I thought.
"I heard my Granddaughter talking. Are you hungry?" she asked me.
"Starving."
"Peanut butter on toast?"
I could already smell the salty aroma of melted butter mingled with the toasty warmth of the bread. My stomach gurgled. I nodded vigorously and the throbbing in my head flared in anger. I winced.
"Could I have some Advil? I'm hurting everywhere."
Grandma stepped through the doorway. "I have something stronger right here with your toast, and a glass of lemonade." She smiled warmly as she crossed the room.
Jacob and Dad moved back from my bed to allow her access. She placed the tray on my nightstand and handed me two pills and the glass.
I grabbed the pills and threw them into my mouth, chasing them down with a mouthful of lemonade. I wanted to chug the whole glass – I felt like I'd been licking the carpet – but I couldn't get enough air into my lungs so I settled for a mouthful at a time.
She smiled again, a sigh escaping her mouth. Obviously she was relieved to see me wanting food and water.
"I have three pitchers made in the refrigerator. I went especially to the store to get your favorite; Meyer lemons. You need the vitamin C."
I drained the last drops of the sweet and sour liquid.
She took the glass from me and handed me the plate of fragrant toast. I bit into the peanutty goodness.
She reached out and brushed my hair away from my cheek. "I have missed those beautiful eyes." She was studying my carefully. "You have some color back in your cheeks too."
I looked up at her; suspicion tapped around the edges of my mind. She had that same guarded look that Dad had. Her smile was off and I'd noticed something flash across her face as her hand had made contact with my skin. When she realized that I was trying to decipher her expression she quickly looked away, redirecting her attention towards dad.
"Where's Mom?" I was getting scared. Had something happened to her?
Grandma turned her head back to me. "She's with your Grandfather, dear." I noted the minute waver in her voice.
"And where is he?" I asked slowly, raising my eyebrows pleadingly.
And there it was; the thing they were hiding from me. She looked back at Dad. Dad swallowed, again, his face remained passive. Jacob glanced sideward at Dad. Dad growled softly. I knew he'd think I wouldn't be able to hear him, but strangely I could. What was going on here? What were they hiding from me?
Something began to rise inside me. It started off as discomfort creeping in the pit of my stomach, like that feeling you get when you just know something is very wrong. Slowly it spread outwards, reaching into every space it could find before crawling into my veins, where it was swept into the thunder of my pulse. It surged into every corner, gushed into every nerve until it roared into the space between my ears. It pushed out the irritation and annoyance, whipped the exhaustion from my limbs, and dampened the aching and throbbing and burning.
I looked from Grandma, to Jacob and then to Dad. "What is it?" I whispered.
Grandma took hold of my hand, rubbing her thumbs over my palm.
Dad sat at the end of my bed and rested his hands on my feet, forcing a smile.
Jacob remained where he was, his hands stiff at his sides.
I looked back at Dad. "Please tell me what's going on. Is mom okay?"
He squeezed my ankles. "Sweetheart your mom is fine. Really. She's helping Carlisle with some research, trying to make sure you recover quickly. She wanted to be here but Carlisle needed, help." I noted the hesitation at the word 'help'. "We decided it was best for me to stay here with you and for her to go with him since I have the medical degrees. She'll be calling soon to check up on you."
"So, Mom and Pop-Pop are researching, at the hospital?" I ventured. "And where are Alice and Jasper?" I already knew Rosalie and Emmett were in the house. I could hear Rosalie was at the computer, her well manicured fingers tapping intermittently on the keys. Emmett was with her, I could pick out his scent.
"Alice is out in the barn with Jasper. She's staying there for a while. She's trying to see if you're going to give us any more trouble." He used the word 'trouble' affectionately. "Jacob here is making it almost impossible for her to see anything."
I stared at the three of them completely frustrated. Their fake smiles were not fooling me. I felt a flash of anger that they were treating me like a child, again. I was through with all this over protective bullshit. I wanted to stamp my feet and shout, since I could do neither I folded my arms over my chest, immediately wincing as the chest tube smarted-this was going to get old fast- which was pretty much the final straw. My temper flared;I glowered at them.
"Alice can't see me even when Jake isn't around and if someone doesn't tell me right now why you all look like someone is about to die I'm-well I don't know what I'm going to do." My eyes prickled and angry tears began to fall as I realized I had nothing to barter with. I was stuck here, with damned tubes hanging out of me, feeling like hell and people were hiding shit from me!
I watched them closely, looking for a chink in their collective armor. I saw Jacob glance towards my father and my father's jaw clench almost imperceptibly. Having a mind reader for a father sometimes had its uses. He didn't realize it, but I'd learned to read his minute reactions to other people's thoughts long ago. Jacob was thinking something that dad disapproved of.
I'd found my chink. Jacob would tell me.
Well, that's it. Sorry for such a delay in updating. I struggled with this chapter - it was mean to me and I'm still getting over my battle scars. Want to help me recover? Reviews work wonders on wounds, oh and they also spur me on...plans are to update every 2 weeks form now on and reviewers will get the new chapter a couple of days before it's published here.