Sunrise
Chapter 7: Come Clean
Come Clean: Hilary Duff (old song, i know... just read.)
Okay, I've decided to add more drama. More… zest? I dunno. But let's just say it'll make more sense (HOPEFULLY) now that I've made this more one detail more clear. –shmile-.
OOO
"You little—"
I stumbled back as my cheek began to sting. I glanced up at my foster father (number 14). Classic: The drinker, the smoker, the drunk and stoned. I hadn't even done anything!
"Get the hell away from me!" I screamed, aiming a kick out. I missed. Kung Fu was suddenly stupid.
Instead, I tore out the door, racing down the driveway and down the road. Go, go, go—
"Go!" I yelled, breaking free of my dream. I conked my head on Matt's, where he was dutifully sitting beside me. "Ow," I moaned, falling down on the pillows.
"Are you alright?" His voice was strange, something I'd never heard before. I blinked, my vision coming back. It was only the second time I'd woken up since the rabid Lucas attack.
The first time, I had woken up crying. and Matt had held me until I quieted. I had tried to go back to vampire-mode, feel less, but I couldn't. When I asked about it, he looked away and replied grimly, "maybe you're still shaken up about it, and I wouldn't blame you." He looked at me for a moment, searching for something, and then said: "But I think it's because that bastard gave you a concussion."
"Oh," I had sniffled. He stroked my hair, and I felt content.
Now, I was slightly more composed, but I kept fainting each time I got up, or even sat up. Matt was right: I had a concussion, and seeing a doctor was freaking out of the question, I couldn't get it fixed. He had, though, the sense to put my locket back on.
"I have some news you might like," he said now, after a moment, adjusting himself so he was lying next to me. I looked at his face. It was impassive.
"And that would be?" I asked.
"Lucas has been dismissed from the Voilturi." He glanced at my face for my reaction. I felt my face whiten.
"As in… dead, dismissed?" I asked—no, pleaded. I didn't want him alive.
Matt shook his head. "No, just vampire legally dismissed. He hadn't done anything that threatened to expose us, therefore he isn't worthy of death row."
"Crap." I looked away, biting my lip. I had never felt so helpless against someone—not even Matt, and he could control everything I did. I felt tears sting my cheeks, and I quickly wiped them away. But Matt noticed.
Stupid humanity.
"Don't cry. He won't be back. I can make sure myself."
"I'm not crying," I muttered stubbornly, but my voice broke… twice. He didn't say anything more on the subject, but I changed it: "How come you're so close to me? I thought you were wimpy-man when it came to blood."
He shrugged. "It's not important."
I let it go, leaning into his embrace. "My power is so sucky," I said after a moment. I felt him stiffen, and as I glanced at his face, it was terrified. "Matt?" I asked. "What's wrong?"
He blinked. "Nothing."
I bit my lip, trying to add up everything, but before I could, Matt kicked a table. I flinched as he muttered something to fast for my human ears to comprehend. "What the hell?" I yelled as he was in midstream.
"You talk in your sleep." He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"So?"
"So…" I heard his teeth snap together. "So, you don't seem to stop dreaming about him, and his… attack."
I stared at him in confusion for a moment. "I wasn't dreaming about him," I said finally. "I was dreaming about him."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I was dreaming about foster father number fourteen. Drunk, stoned. Classic soap opera." I was in his arms so fast that I didn't even know why I was cold. At first. "What the—?"
His lips were on mine before I could finish my sentence. He moved them needily, aggressively, and almost… pained.
I liked it, yeah, sure. But I pulled away. "No! Not now. My head hurts, you idiot."
"I wasn't implying... that!" he exclaimed, eyes narrowed, lips tight.
I blinked, then averted my eyes. "Um… then what was—were you thinking?"
He didn't say anything for a moment. He looked torn, as if he wanted to tell her a forbidden secret. "I was thinking…" He let out his breath in a huge gust of wind. "I was thinking… about my human life."
"You were not."
He ignored me. "I lied to you about not remembering anything," he said, looking at the farthest wall. "I was nineteen when Demetri and Jane found me dying. I had been… mobbed, you Americans would say? I was born into a rich family, one of the many reasons I was persuasive. People listened to me in fear of having their homes excavated. But some kids from the university I went to got fed up. I was walking home one night when one guy leapt at me, and you'd be surprised. I couldn't defend myself very well.
"So, I was dying." I realized he hadn't gone into the gory details. "And Jane showed up. At first, I could have sworn to God she was an angel, but then Demetri seemed like her opposite: the Devil himself. He had nearly an evil glint in his eyes as he sized me up, and for a moment, I could have sworn he was going to eat me. Completely absurd idea, of course. I hadn't heard of such things as canniblas for so many years." Matt seemed to forget I was there. His body was rigid, his voice oddly calm.
"The man started towards me, but the woman—Jane—held her arm out as if to stop him. 'No,' she said swiftly, giving him a half-glare. 'He's perfect.'"
"Perfect for what? I remember thinking. But as my consciousness began to slip into dark, I felt the pain, the fire. And then it was three days of hell." He glanced up, blinked, and looked at me. "I was immediately set to work as part of the guard, and I never knew of the Cullen's until the one named Edward tried to kill himself."
My eyes flew open. "What did you say?" I demanded. That could not have possibly happened. My father was suicidal? Practical Edward was suicidal?
"Until the one named Edward tried to kill himself," Matt repeated, slightly annoyed. "Something about Isabella Swan—the one everyone's so obsessed about around here—jumping off a cliff."
I blinked rapidly. "Excuse me?" My voice cracked.
"Supposedly, it was a misunderstanding. She had just wanted to go cliff diving, or something? And he thought she died because of the psychic—" He broke off, looking at my confused face with sudden understanding. "Oh," he said after a moment, giving a sheepish smile. "I forgot that you were a Cullen. Sorry. You probably know all of this."
I stayed quiet for a little bit, letting it sink in. "Oh, boy."
"You don't?" he asked, astonished.
"Not exactly," I mumbled. I furrowed my brows. It made sense why my parents wouldn't let their own horror story of Romeo and Juliet leak into my consciousness. I mean… it was really rather disturbing. No! She died! I must go kill myself! Of course, that's probably not the exact context of how it went down, but the intent was clear enough.
"Odd," allowed Matt after a moment. He brushed his finger across my cheek.
"You couldn't touch me when I was first human." I glanced at him suspiciously.
He shook his head. "I've gotten used to it over the year." He gave a half-smile, and I knew he was lying. There was something else to it. "You got emotional a lot."
I flushed, my jaw set. "Shut up."
He chuckled. "I'm just stating the obvious. But… I'd like to know more, Cara. I want, need to know more about you."
I looked away. "You did your research," I muttered bitterly.
"Not enough. Not the right kind. I don't know your perspective." His eyes were bright and he seemed eager. "Please."
I realized he hadn't given me a command in months. I contemplated that, wondered why. But he was waiting for my consent, so I began to tell him about everything—all my families that I'd dealt with, what had happened with the Blacks in particular, and what had happened with my real family. I left out certain details, ones that Aro culod use against me or those families. Just in case. By the end of my speech, Matt's eyes held a tint of sadness. But for what, I could not place.
"Why do you care?" I asked at last, and his face contorted into something.
"You're not very trusting, are you?" he muttered, his hand still stroking my cheek. "Even after a year, you don't trust me."
"How can I," I found myself saying as his eyes took on a haunted look, "when you could ask me to rip my self to shreds?"
"I would never—"
"Or maybe Aro, Marcus, Caius? Maybe they could command you to do so? Do you really think you could defy them?" He looked away. It was answer enough. I crossed my arms tightly, looking down at him disdainfully. "And what if they made you order me to kill someone? Whether I love them or not? What if they made you demand me to kill Jaime, my own brother?"
His shoulders tensed. I stared at him, then, shock on my face. "Is that what they're planning?" He would not answer me. I felt myself, angrily shove him off me. I had only been able to do it because he'd been surprised. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and they touched the floor.
I stood up shakily, every fiber of my being willing me to lie back down. I fought it off and faced Matt, who was looking at me with what seemed like concern. "Is that what you wanted? The Quiliettes(sp?) murdered?"
His eyes blazed. "I never said anything about me wanting them dead. Caius believes they are a threat to not only us, but—"
"You think they're going to come all the way to Italy?" I exclaimed, my eyes wide. "Are you completely… insane?" I forced the words out. I was getting dizzy.
"Cara?" Matt's voice was alarmed as I shut my eyes tight.
"I'm okay…" My voice sounded far off. I opened my eyes and the room was spinning, my vision blotting. "Just a little lightheaded."
I felt him swoop me up, but then I succumbed to the dark.
My dreams were filled with bleary images of Jaime, Alex, the rest of the pack, and even Freesia. I imagined all of them tortured by Jane. Little Alex, who had barely escaped last time. He would be approaching ten in a few months—he had been nearly nine when I left. I pictured him fazing into a younger wolf, forced into it.
I was sure I tossed and turned.
I gasped as I woke, and as I ran a hand through my hair, I noticed my cheeks were wet. I looked at the chair where I knew Matt was.
His eyes burned a slightly different color than I knew them. They were a rusty color, just under the red. They were the color mine had been at the time of being attacked by Lucas. Which was wierd.
I blinked at him, waiting for him to console me, but he made no move from the chair. He did not even put down his book.
It was easy to imagine his human self sitting there—well, besides the inhuman beauty. I pictured him with horn-rimmed glasses, blue eyes twinkling under the spectacles. I imagined him youthful and full of life. But then he broke the spell.
"You seem to have nightmares a lot," he said softly. I didn't answer, but stayed quiet.
I contemplated the reason for which he stayed seated. It didn't really make a lot of sense to me, but there was something in his eyes. He looked… afraid. He looked like he was scared of frightening me.
What a silly thought, I found myself thinking. I wasn't afraid of him.
My eyes flew open. When the hell did that happen? I was always afraid of him. Even when we'd bedded each other, I'd been somewhat frightened of his rashness, his authority over me.
And just before I'd passed out, I'd ranted on to him about how I didn't trust him. What was my mind doing? Twisting itself into hysteria? I stared blankly at his own, horribly blank face, trying to comprehend what my conscious was doing to me.
I seriously hoped I was just confused from the concussion.
He closed his eyes, making sure they were away from me. "You know," he said, "I really haven't been completely honest with why--"
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," I interjected. "I know it's not your fault, but Jaime is the only person I've really been able to lean on—" His eyes flashed, so I added: "in the past. And I can't bare the thought of him dying, or worse."
"Do you love him?"
The words confused me. "Love him?" I asked. "Like as in marriage love?" He nodded. "Hardly," I continued, trying to keep from laughing. "That would be like my mother loving Emmett. Ew, gross, don't want to go there type of thing."
Something faded from his eyes. Was it jealousy?
Something clicked, then, and it horrified me. Why he had gotten upset at me for not telling him his eyes were blue, why he had raced to my rescue and made sure I'd stayed down the past week, why he'd suddenly been able to touch me as a human, why he told me of his humanity and wanted to know of mine, and even why he had told me not to show Jane and Aro how much their torture had hurt me… It all made sense. He cared about me, but it wasn't just that.
He loved me.
I knew I was right, too. It was more than a hunch—it was my mind screaming the fact in my face. It was blaring in my ears. The earth split and blotches of color crashed in my eyes.
I couldn't let him know I knew, though. For two reasons. A) He obviously wasn't ready to tell me, and B) I didn't want to explain how I knew such a thing. I didn't want to explain my powers to anyone, and if Matt knew, then Aro could find out.
Aro already knew I could be human. I'd seen him over the past few months, and he was always questioning me of my existence, and of my former family. And every time I got up to leave from these chats, he would always offer me a spot on his guard. I still don't know why I kept refusing. Maybe I was scared, but the point was Aro didn't need to know about my hunches as well.
And it could be possible Matt didn't know what he felt yet. But I did, and I was severely afraid.
He walked over and crouched at the bed. "Go back to sleep, Cara," he said tenderly, and I felt my eyes droop shut as his lips pressed against my forehead.
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I love being evil! Well, it depends on how you guys see it. But hey, I didn't leave a cliffie.
Guys, check out Morning Star by Consultant by Day. It's practically the real deal. There is one thing: It's rated M, but there's only one "lemon" in it, and I skipped over that part. But everyone is in character! It's Awesome!!!
Jamie.
