Title: Origins: A Lost Soul

Author: MarieCarro

Beta: Chandrakanta

Pre-reader: JeniK & Jennifer Talbear

Genre: Angst/Family/Supernatural

Rating: NC-17

Summary: It was during the month of March in the year of 1918 that the first signs of the influenza were revealed to the public, although no one ever imagined the damages this historic event would have on the American people.

One citizen, in particular, faces an irrevocable change that causes a chain of events to unfold through the twentieth century. The price was to give up his old life, but he would later gain more than he ever thought he would.

Edward Masen was a normal 17-year-old boy with dreams of becoming a soldier, but when tragedy struck his family, his entire life changed. Edward was introduced to the supernatural world he had no idea even existed, and he certainly didn't want to live in it. Canon

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 6

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31st – MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4th 1918

I wanted to scream.

I wanted nothing more than to scream, or, at least, to be able to scream.

My vocal cords were torn and raw after several hours of screaming without reprieve. The pain was agonizing, but it came nowhere close to the flames that were licking through my body—not on me, through me—and it was the most harrowing feeling I'd ever had.

No, harrowing was the wrong word. Excruciating, perhaps. Those words were how I used to describe the pain I experienced with the fever, but they were the wrong words now. I couldn't find the right word to describe exactly how I felt, and it must have been because no such word existed.

It was impossible to breathe properly, and I was feeling vertiginous from of the lack of oxygen.

Through all that, I remained unable to grasp what was happening.

When I saw Dr. Cullen's teeth, glistening wet and covered with my blood, I very nearly lost my sanity. First, I clung to the hope that it was all a dream the fever had conjured up in my mind, but I soon had to accept otherwise. The pain was too vivid for it to possibly be a dream. It felt as if I was being roasted over an open fire.

My entire body was quivering from the tension in my muscles. I thrashed about, and I attempted to scream, and just did everything I could think of to get the fire out of me. However, I quickly realized that all of my efforts were in vain.

I tried to plead with Dr. Cullen to kill me, but when you don't have a voice, it's difficult to communicate with someone you're afraid to look in the eyes.

A small whisper in my ear had me instinctively shifting away, but there was no one in the room except me. Dr. Cullen had left earlier when he realized that his presence made me uncomfortable.

The whisper started anew, but this time I realized it was in my head, and not in my ear. It reminded me of the sound of the blowing wind. There was no logic as to why I heard it, but it was there nonetheless. Then again, none of what was underway had any logic to it.

Thoughts of the whispers only captured my mind for a few seconds. My main focus was still on the unbearable fire. And as tears I could no longer hold inside escaped my eyes, I prayed to God to give me back my voice, but it was as lost as ever.

A hand—a hard and cold hand—settled on my forehead, and I winced away from it.

Dr. Cullen was the reason for this: the pain. I did not know what he had done, but after he tasted my blood, he must have poisoned me. He had somehow been able to pierce my skin with his teeth and injected something into the wound.

I had never been one to judge people for their lifestyles. Their lives were theirs to live. But Dr. Cullen … was just sick. A doctor, who was supposed to heal people from their diseases and cure sickness, enjoyed the taste of blood.

I had turned the notion of it over in my head what felt like an endless number of times to rationally explain it, but nothing made me wiser. Every thought was as repulsive as the previous one.

I ground my teeth together when a particularly painful flame licked at my shoulder. I was sure I would break them, but I couldn't relax my jaw.

Dr. Cullen once again placed his hand on my forehead, and I wanted to push it away from my face. I wanted to escape him and what he'd done to me.

I wanted to die.

That was all I could think of: death and how I would welcome it with open arms.

But as time wound on, I knew my wish would never be granted.

{=ALS=}

It was a strange sensation when I felt my body acquire strength even though I thought I should have been a pile of ashes by now. I felt how my senses grew sharper—a lot sharper.

I could hear everything. I could hear the rustle of the wind in the trees outside; the quick and light run of a squirrel on the ground; the sound of a rushing river far away.

The sounds confirmed my previous suspicion. Dr. Cullen had indeed brought me to the woods, probably to make certain no one would hear my screams.

I curled in on myself and buried my face in the pillow I had been provided with, and groans of pain escape me. I had no answer for it, but my vocal cords had somehow healed and given me back my voice. At first, I thought God had heard my prayer and that it was a miracle, but as time stretched out, I questioned that. Why would God heal my voice while still allowing me to endure this pain? I had never encountered any miracle in the bible that was described to be this painful.

I refrained from screaming again, anyway. I didn't want to damage them all over. Screaming didn't help me cope with the pain either, so it was useless.

Those whispers in my head had grown clearer. At times I could even identify words.

What the whispers meant remained a mystery, but I figured I would find out in time. Because that was what I'd been granted: more time. The fire had somehow ridden me of the fever. I could feel it through the pain that the fever was no longer raging in my body.

I was cured.

By no means did I accept Dr. Cullen because of it. I wanted him nowhere near me, but he tried to make me more accustomed to his presence by simply sitting on the other side of the room. Although he had, as time passed, moved closer.

Now, he was kneeling beside the bed and looked at me with a pained expression. I could clearly see on his face how he hated to see me in pain, but there was no trace of regret.

He had not uttered a word since he bit me, but now he spoke softly.

"I truly am sorry for causing you this pain." He wasn't lying. His face was, although pained, open and honest.

"Hope … forgi … omeday."

The whispers were clearer, but they were similar to static on a radio now. I wasn't able to hear every word, but the tone of the whispers was familiar as if I'd heard the voice that uttered them before. More specifically, it was Dr. Cullen's voice, but his mouth had not formed the words I heard.

My breathing was harsh as I dragged in as much air as I could muster through my nose before a torturous cry tore from my mouth.

"I know what you're undergoing. Truly I do. And I promise you that it will be over soon. A few more hours and it will be over," Dr. Cullen assured me.

I wanted to feel relief, but the feeling washing over me was dread.

What would be over? My life? This pain? What was to come afterward? What was it that I was undergoing?

"Do you want an explanation now, or would you rather wait until you can speak for yourself?"

I was fairly positive I wasn't ready to hear the truth because the cause of such pain couldn't possibly lead to anything good. Still, I wanted to know, and I was much too impatient to wait.

"N-n-n-no-o—"

"Now?" he asked.

I groaned in agreement.

Dr. Cullen inhaled as if to brace himself. "What I am, and what you're becoming, isn't of the human world."

I just stared at him. Waiting. Fearing the words that would fall off his tongue.

He sighed. "Edward, do you believe in supernatural creatures?"

Another groan, but this time to deny. I believed in supernatural creatures as much as I believed in Santa Claus; a belief which was non-existent.

"He'll … elieve me … think … 'm a … natic!"

I grimaced. I was positive that voice had been Dr. Cullen's, but he hadn't said anything. I knew because I never took my eyes off of him.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to become a believer because I am supernatural. I'm not human. You could say that I'm a creature of the night." There was a beat of silence, and then Dr. Cullen locked his eyes with mine. "Edward, I'm a vampire."

Silence.

His words hung heavily in the air. They pressed against my temples and around my throat, threatening to choke me with the tension they brought into the room.

It couldn't be true. It wasn't true because vampires didn't exist. I had never believed they did despite the widespread fear of them, especially in New England.

They were creatures from horror stories and nightmares, made up to scare naughty children. Vampires had fangs and transformed into bats. They slept in coffins during the day and resented everything religious, but most of all, they didn't exist.

However, it didn't matter how much I tried to convince myself because my mind had already started to puzzle everything together.

It would explain how he'd been able to bite through my skin, but not why he hadn't drained me of blood. The unnatural strength I'd witnessed when he carried me made more sense.

But how could he move around during the day? Vampires burst into flames if exposed to sunlight.

Suddenly, I realized I had never seen him at the hospital in the daytime. Father had been brought in late at night. In my own delirium, I had been unable to determine the time of day, but maybe there had been another doctor attending to me occasionally.

Dr. Cullen didn't have fangs, though, and it didn't explain why his eye color changed. He had barely left my side since he brought me to this house, so he had obviously not slept in a coffin.

My head spun.

The pain and the flames were not forgotten. They were in my every thought, but I found myself able to think of several things at once. My mind was racing with it.

I thought of Dr. Cullen's confession; my parents; Lewis and Evelyn, and my life: of what it had been, and what it would now become.

The pieces were already coming together.

If Dr. Cullen was indeed a vampire, that could only mean one thing. He'd bitten me. He was turning me into one of his kind: a soulless monster.

Was that why I was burning? Was it a test from the devil? To see if I was worthy and if I could pass through the flames of hell and still survive.

It was all so absurd, and I pushed the unwelcome theories out. I refused to believe it. He was certifiably insane. He shouldn't be a doctor. He should be a patient; at an asylum.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

I didn't answer. Of course, I didn't believe him.

Dr. Cullen let out another sigh. "When the change is complete, you'll see for yourself that I'm telling the truth." He rose from his kneeling position and left the room.

"It will take time for him. Hopefully, he'll accept it when he can feel the changes in his body. I really hope I didn't make a mistake by changing him. He's so young."

I don't think he intended for me to hear his low musings, but he must have forgotten about my enhanced hearing.

{=ALS=}

I tried to will the fire out of me.

I clamped my eyes shut, held my breath and put all of my concentration on forcing the fire out, but of course it didn't do anything.

How much longer would I burn?

Dr. Cullen had said that it would be over soon, but that was hours ago. At least, I think it was hours ago. Time meant very little to me now.

My heart was beating furiously in my chest. It was fighting against the flames, but I feared it was a losing battle. If the flames didn't consume me, I was sure I would die out of a heart attack.

I gasped when I suddenly felt the first change in my condition since the beginning.

The fire retreated from my fingers and toes and left them with a sensation of coolness. The absence was such a great relief, but I didn't get a chance to relax because, while my hands and feet were now free from the flames, the heat around my heart rose even further in temperature.

I grabbed handfuls of the sheets under me in an attempt to control myself, and I heard rather than felt it when the fabric was torn apart; how each thread snapped. It had been no effort. The fabric felt as delicate as silk paper underneath my fingers.

"Not much longer now."

Dr. Cullen came back into the room. He watched me with an expectant glimmer in his strange golden eyes. I wondered if the eyes meant anything special.

When my arms were freed from the heat, my breathing became erratic. It was such a relief to feel some coolness. Like going for a swim on a hot summer day.

I couldn't enjoy the relief for long. One discomfort was quickly exchanged for another.

My torso heaved with my breathing as I tried to get as much oxygen into my body as possible. I was hoping it would take my mind off my burning heart. The attempt was futile.

The fire receded from my head, but it lingered in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, but my throat was so dry, and I felt absolutely parched.

My heart was in a frenzy and I tossed all over the bed and screamed out my pain. It was impossible to stay quiet any longer.

Dr. Cullen came forward, and I grabbed his shirt. "Make it stop! Please, just make it stop!"

He didn't even seem shocked when I grabbed him. He calmly pried my hand away from his shirt and held onto it. "It will be over soon. I promise. You'll only have to endure it for a couple more minutes."

His hand wasn't cold anymore. It was like holding anybody's hand. It felt normal.

The heat subsided, and I closed my eyes. My heartbeat decreased, and it was shortly after so slow and faint that I could barely make out the sound.

It made me nervous.

Wasn't I supposed to lose consciousness when my heart stopped beating? Wasn't that what was supposed to happen when you died?

Two more weak beats and it went silent.

There was not a sound in the room, not even the sound of breathing. I was holding my breath. The only sounds came from outside the house.

But I could feel the presence of someone else in the room. I could smell it.

I inhaled deeply, hoping that it would calm me down, but it only distressed me further when I felt no relief. It was only the lifeless rise and fall of my chest as my lungs expanded with the air.

Even though I knew it was over, I refused to open my eyes. I was too afraid of what I might see.

"He should open his eyes now. The change is complete. His heart has stopped. So what's wrong? Did I do something wrong when I bit him? I tried to recreate my own wounds, but what if that wasn't enough." "Edward? Can you open your eyes?"

When he addressed me directly, I had to obey. When he said my name, it was like a father saying the name of his son. It felt homelike, and I wanted to listen to him.

I very slowly opened my eyes and took in my surroundings.