They say that cats have nine lives. But that was a lie, and she didn't need nine lives anyways. She just needed the one, and she needed to live it as if it would escape her any moment now. Any moment now.

10.

BPOV

As soon as I shifted back, I stumbled, quickly adjusting to my new body. I turned around and grabbed the pile of wrinkled clothes behind me and held them to my breast. Suddenly, I dropped them, clutching my stomach. I was nauseous, and if I thought vampires couldn't feel pain, then I was dead wrong. My eyes wandered, looking for a reprieve in the beautiful forest, finding none.

In the distance I could see a tall figure but could not make out exactly who it was. Forcing myself to ignore my nausea (my nakedness embarrassed me, and who was it wandering in the forest, and was it someone who belonged, someone in on one or both of the secrets, or was it someone I should be afraid of, someone I should be afraid for, and me the real danger?), I slipped on my panties, then my jeans. Bending down, I clutched my soiled bra and quickly secured the clasps, throwing my wrinkled T-shirt in soon afterwards.

"Hello?" I called. "Anybody there?"

I turned around and saw Edward. I didn't know quite what to say. How much had he seen? Had he seen my new cat form?

"Bella," he said. I could tell that this situation was just as awkward to him as it was to me. Before I could say anything more, though, I fell to the ground, clutching my stomach, and gagged. Edward was immediately at my side, his arms wrapped around my shoulders as I threw up the dear flesh I consumed only a few hours ago. We were both silent – maybe we didn't know what words to say, but I like to think that the silence had somewhat of a curing effect. I think we needed the silence. I think we simply needed to help each other fall into the correct pair of running shoes. And it wouldn't be that long now; no, it wouldn't be long at all.

After I had finished retching, Edward helped me up and we walked back to his big white house silently. My arms were glued to my sides; so were Edward's. I wondered what Edward thought; how much he had seen. Then I realized that it didn't matter: why should I care what he thinks? Why should I let him control my life? Yes, I was fascinated by him, but that was before. Yes, I was drawn to him, and yes, the self-degrading way he acts makes me want to run up to him and place my hand on his face and tell him that everything will be alright, that he's not a monster, that I'm perfectly fine and I love this life. Except that I can't, and not really because it would be a lie (I haven't decided yet), but because there are boundaries, and also because I know that my parents would never approve. And yes, I do care what my parents think. Even now, in this invulnerable body, I care.

We walked back into the Cullen house together but alone. "Are you alright?" I asked Edward. I had to know, and I knew that I had to help him. I didn't know what to expect, but neither did he so this had to be scary for him.

"I'm fine," Edward said. I could tell his arm could still hurt him by the way he avoided using it.

"No you're not. Your arm still hurts," I bluntly stated what I suspected was the truth.

Edward shook his head stubbornly, then sat down on the couch. I walked over to him and stared into his dark golden eyes, trying to find the secret to unlock Edward's psyche.

"Fine," Edward admitted, whispering. "But it was nothing I didn't deserve."

My still heart cried out for him. No one deserved this pain, not even Edward. Even if he had killed me and I was watching from heaven, I would have thought the same thing.

"No one deserves this, Edward," I said, and my voice was a whisper also. I sat down beside him and continued gazing into his eyes. "I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know what to tell you. I wish that I could just make it right, stop this from happening. But I think something's happening to your body…turning into some sort of vampire/werecat hybrid."

We sat in silence for God knows how long. Finally Edward spoke.

"I know. Alice told me."

And Alice knows so much; she sees so much and feels so much and I don't understand how that warm heart of hers isn't beating, but it isn't and I feel like nothing in the world makes sense anymore.

"Are you scared?" I asked, holding out my hand for him to take if he needed it for comfort.

Finally Edward shook his head. "It doesn't really matter. I don't have a soul."

Is that really what he believed? How could he believe that bullshit? The fact that he is questioning whether or not he has a soul – degradingly announcing that he knows he doesn't – is proof enough that he does. Why can't he see that?

The truth is, I have doubts of my own. I don't trust my own control, and I wouldn't be honest if I told Edward that I was perfectly fine with what happened. The truth is, I wish I wasn't a vampire. Yeah, I know that now I'll live forever, but what does that mean, and do I really want to?

But I had to fix what I had done wrong. I had to be there for Edward; I had to let him see that there is a fine line between feeling guilty and not knowing how to forgive oneself. What happened already happened, and no matter how angry I might be, I forgave Edward a long time ago. I might not be happy with where I am right now, but Edward doesn't deserve this pain. And I'm not just talking about his physical pain that I am responsible for and that he is so good at hiding. I'm talking about all of his fears and his self-hatred and I wondered how he survived for a century in this coma-like state.

"I want to make it better for you," I whispered, taking Edward's hand and squeezing it. I knew that all we could do was sit it out, watch Edward's condition get worse and worse, and finally it would all be over and not much would really be that different, neither for Edward nor for me.

Except that then we would both be lying to ourselves, and I know that there is no way my family would ever forgive me, and I know that I would be shunned if they ever found out what happened to me and what I am now, a vampire – a parasite. Is it my soul that thinks, or is it simply the neutrons in my brain that thinks, and if that is the case could Edward be right, we do not have souls?

"I'm fine," Edward insisted. But he wasn't that good at hiding his pain, and I think that if it was me I might be relieved to finally be feeling physical pain after a century of none, and perhaps it alleviates some of the emotional pain.

But Edward was even paler than he usually was and his usually freezing forehead was a tad bit warmer than usual, and Carlisle was right, it seemed like Edward had a fever and that was nothing if it wasn't my fault, but it was and is my fault, and I wished that this could end as soon as possible so Edward could be fine again and maybe even more different than before but still fine.

"This is all my fault," I whispered. Edward turned to look at me.

"Don't say that, Bella. If anything, we're even. I bit you and you scratched me. I deserved it, Bella," Edward said.

I wasn't sure if I should tell him. It was dangerous to be thinking the truth, that I wouldn't have defended myself if I had looked in his eyes, if I had known it was Edward. My heart would have melted and I would have given him all of my blood, never shifting back to my human form, giving him the best gift anyone could have ever asked for: not knowing that it was a human that he would have killed. The guilt he was feeling now….I wasn't even Jasper and I could feel it radiating off his body; I can see it tumbling back and forth in his eyes. If he could never know, if only he never found out…if only I hadn't shifted back. If only I had known that I would care so much, this much, that I would want to take away all of his pain.

But something told me it would be worse, if I admitted the truth, but my unbeating heart told me that the truth hurts but the truth unleashes many a million of chains.

"I wish I had turned around before defending myself. I think if I had known it was you…maybe I would have reacted differently. Maybe I wouldn't have defended myself."

It wasn't even that I loved him – it was too soon to say, of course, but whenever I was around him there was this feeling inside of me that said everything was right only when I was around Edward. But even if it wasn't Edward – I'm lying to myself – I wouldn't have defended myself it was someone I knew about, not a stranger. But I can't take it back now – the past (mine and his) is etched in stone and now I can only do my best effort of moving forwards. Fat chance of that.

"Don't say that," Edward said, turning to look at me.

I felt vulnerable, as if I were bearing my soul (that I may or may not have) on a platter for him. "I don't want you to be in pain," I whispered.

"I deserve it," Edward said, and I knew that any ordinary person would probably agree, but I was never ordinary, was I? "Besides, it will pass," he said.

My eyes seemed to melt when I looked in his eyes. I wanted to stroke his face, make all of his pain dissolve with my touch. Anything. I didn't care about myself; in this moment all I cared about was this fallen angel and the pain that was buried in his forlorn, guilt-stricken eyes.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We ended up watching television together. I had hoped that perhaps the television would distract Edward from the pain. He wouldn't admit to the pain I knew he was in, except for saying that he deserved it, but from his body language I had gathered that he was in a lot of pain and, not having experienced pain for a century, he was not used to it which thus made it even harder. As much as I hated that he felt he had to keep it bottled up inside, I admired the strength he had – to herald the pain as a self-imposed burden; to keep it inside; to deny its existence.

I tried not to remember my transformation, wondering if I was the same way: had I held in my screams to alleviate Edward's mental torment towards his own transgressions?

I've said this before, but I want Edward to know that I don't blame him.

Soon, the rest of the family ended up in the living room. "We're not interrupting something, are we?" Emmett teased. I shook my head.

And the day went on.

I remember Jasper silently sitting behind Edward and I, willingly taking a portion of Edward's pain on for himself, sending calming signals to alleviate Edward's pain as much as possible.

I couldn't help but have this ominous feeling that we were in the calm before the storm, or maybe even the eye of the hurricane – everything was so calm and still and nobody moved a muscle, and I couldn't help but fear what to come. This wasn't natural, and yes, the Cullens were already like a family to me. They couldn't replace my real family, but I found that inside myself I genuinely cared about them.

I wish that the storm would just come, knock us all down already so we could just get up and start the mending process.

Some wounds are too deep, too bloody to mend. If only I had known. If only there was a way out.

But everyone says that, right?