Author's note: Starting now we're going to move into a mystery. I will most definitely be bringing in the comedy as well - particularly in the next chapter. Remember that this is an AU piece. This particular chapter will take elements from the Twilight Saga, but it is going to put a different spin on them. Additionally, there is violence in this chapter although I've done my best to keep it from being unduly graphic. Because this is the actual beginning of Cullenary Coupling, and Edward has an awful lot of explaining to do, this will be a long story arc. I do promise we will cover the honeymoon and the betting and the seduction. If I do this right, all the first chapters will take on new meaning after you read this arc, and it will also set up the rest of the story quite nicely.
I've sprinkled clues throughout and the plot is going to get extremely complicated from this point forward. If you skim, you will get confused. If you skip a chapter, you will be lost. And many of the chapters are long. I will be putting story summaries before and after each chapter but they will not cover every single detail. If something doesn't make sense, please feel free to PM me.
In order to understand the rest of Cullenary Coupling, you have to appreciate Edward's point of view. He's been hiding many things from Bella and his family. And he just might surprise you. Our Edward is a brilliant actor, he's rock stubborn, and his motivations at times are not so nice. In upcoming chapters he will be getting schooled. He'll be a little gloomy in this chapter - next one he'll be hilarious.
Also, if you have the chance please stop by the thread for this story on the AU forum and say hello. I don't bite. much. Kidding on the much part.
Much thanks to my awesome beta vjgm for aiding me with this work oh, and validating it too. :)
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. Sister Claire, Starched Shirt Edward, and the Predator characters are mine. So there.
Cullenary Coupling - Heart of Darkness - Pride and Tribulation
EPOV
One of the things I most admired about Carlisle was his eternal optimism --his belief in the inherent goodness of all things formed by the hand of our Creator. I remembered little from my human life, but I did recollect vague glimpses of attending Holy Name Cathedral with my family on Christmas day, wearing an uncomfortable suit and tie with cotton shirt that had a starched collar. Surrounded with the rich flavor of incense, I recalled kneeling in devotion and praying with my head bowed in quiet reverence by the side of my parents following the priest's Latin. I remembered the feeling of contentment that washed over me as I gazed at the light glinting off of the golden monstrance on the altar that held the Eucharist. I knew that I had serenely believed in a merciful almighty God and the promise of eternal life after death in His embrace. My faith had told me so, and it never occurred to me to question it.
I reminisced that at the time all my efforts had been directed toward obtaining a chance to fight in the Great War with my friends and prove myself a man to my parents. My Mother had feared for my safety, but my faith in God told me that he had a destiny in mind for me that meant I would survive and live to achieve valor on behalf of our country. I had been stubborn in my conviction in His immanence.
Then the Spanish flu had swept through Chicago like a wraith, greedily snatching my helpless family into its spindly arms. I remembered lying in a cot in the sweltering overcrowded hospital ward hearing the sobs and noises of the sick and smelling the combined stench of vomit, urine, excrement, and fear. I recalled wondering why I could hear my Mother's voice, but my Father's remained silent. I remembered being violently ill, held in my sick Mother's arms, frustrated at my weakness and protesting that I felt better and that she needed her rest. As my fever had climbed higher, and I had drifted in and out of consciousness, it had started to occur to me that she was frightened. I recollected assuring her that I would recover, and worrying on her behalf as I saw her decline, trying to encourage her to drink the water she offered me.
It never had occurred to me to think my family would die, and the frantic desperation in my Mother's eyes I ignored, instead thinking that I had to help her be strong by insisting that all would be well. After all, God had great things in mind for us. I recalled being stunned as she succumbed at my side after a hushed conversation with our family doctor. The last memory I had was of weakly crying at her passing, realizing my Father had died as well by the look in Dr. Cullen's sad eyes. I recall reminding myself that I would live on in their name and accomplish great deeds to bring glory to the Masen name. I recollected not wanting to shed tears in front of Dr. Cullen and wiping my face with my sleeve as he covered my Mother's body with a stained sheet. I had the sensation of being carried away and lost consciousness, falling into the fever's embrace.
Things became confusing at that point. I remember jerking awake at the feeling of lancing pain in my neck, arms, ankles, and in patches over my heart. I remember screaming as that pain was repeated several times, wondering what could possibly be happening to me, as I writhed on a sheet of canvas on a musty wooden floor. I sensed every part of my body being engulfed in flames, and thrashing and screaming in anguish. The voracity of the sensation as it ate through my nervous system was one that makes me cringe to this day. I recall begging God to let me die and please end this torment, and weeping in misery when my plea received no answer.
I heard a voice telling me that all would soon be well and the contact of a cool hand holding mine. I felt gratified knowing that at last God had listened and my heart would stop, and I would join my Parents in Heaven. I know I begged piteously to the sympathetic voice that cared for me through my seemingly endless ordeal to please take my life. The last thing I remembered was hearing my Mother's voice telling me that she loved me, and the feeling that a train car had fallen from two stories out of the sky and landed on my chest. My heart felt like it shattered within my body before an invisible hand ripped it out while still beating. I recall screaming like a wounded animal, throwing my arms open reflexively as my body seized, and the pain stopped, like someone had flipped a switch.
I remember feeling happiness that now that the misery had ended, my eternal life in God's embrace would soon begin. I recall opening my eyes and peering around in confusion for my Mother and Father. I wondered why, if I was in heaven, was I on the floor in a wooden cabin wearing bloody clothes laying, I sniffed at myself revolted, in my waste.
"Hello Edward, do you remember me?" my family doctor said.
"Of course, Dr. Cullen. Did you die too? Why does heaven look this way? Where are my Parents? And if we're in heaven, why do I smell so horrible?" I croaked.
"Son, you are not in heaven yet." His odd-colored eyes met mine in compassion. He seemed almost hesitant to speak.
"But I died. I know I did." I stubbornly insisted.
"True. But you still live." He answered kindly.
"Why? And I think I need something for my throat, if you don't mind. I have this terrible burning feeling in it." I said, as my hands went to my neck.
I recall in that moment remembering the loss of my family and starting to sob. To my surprise, I couldn't weep tears although my shoulders shook. I remember feeling ashamed for burdening him with my grief. And having him see me in a befouled state mortified me. I had not soiled myself since I was a toddler, I thought, in abject shame.
When Carlisle patiently explained to me what I had become, I recalled feeling that God had abandoned me casting me out into the endless frigid night. My naive visions of eternal life and predetermined glory filled destinies returned to mock me. I could not feel His presence and falling back upon my religious upbringing, wondered what evil I had wrought in my seventeen years on earth to possibly deserve such a fate.
I remembered the first thing he told me as the realization sunk in was that I needed to have faith. I had no way of responding to that plea. The next thing I remember was my revulsion at looking in the mirror and seeing bright red eyes staring accusingly at me where ones green once had been. Carlisle explained to me after I screamed in terror that this was normal for a newborn vampire and that it would fade within a few months. Shaking, I resumed stripping myself of my filthy clothes, trying to maintain a calm manner.
"Dr. Cullen, I think I should go lie down and sleep. My head aches." I said tentatively, while cleaning myself in his small bathroom. He had placed a fresh change of clothing on a counter. I noticed shiny white glowing scars all over my body: on my neck, my wrists, my ankles, my forearms, and my chest. They seemed to be in the shape of teeth, I thought to myself, baffled. "And I have these marks that almost seem to be glowing that might need attending. That can't be normal." I complained.
"Oh the poor child" I heard Carlisle voice whisper quietly sounding like it was coming from far away. I decided to ignore that since I knew I was probably acting like one.
"Son, please call me Carlisle. As a vampire, you cannot sleep, and the marks are from your transformation. I'm afraid since I've never made another vampire, that I had to guess with you and may have bitten you more times than was necessary."
"Will they fade?" I responded, numbly.
"I'm afraid not. Our venom which is what transforms you also leaves a permanent scar." He moved his shirt aside so I could see his shoulder where he had two similar marks. He wore a look of guilt on his face.
"I've never done anything like this before although I've witnessed other transformations his seemed exceptionally painful." I heard a voice that sounded like his in my mind. I dismissed it thinking that since his lips weren't moving I was hearing things in my state of shock.
I had never realized how much I had missed dreaming, and the oblivion that sleep offered until I had lost the ability. Now, I had no diversion from the constant state of being something other than human. I had wondered to Carlisle if we could not dream, if we could not recharge from sleep, how we stayed sane? And I instantly questioned my mental fortitude when I realized, with horror, that I could hear another voice in my brain when I talked with him: a voice that sounded very much like his. Understanding that I could hear his mind scared me, because I had no understanding of how that came to be. When I blurted out in panic my problem, Carlisle had no good answers beyond saying that in my mortal life I must have been highly perceptive in reading people.
I remember Carlisle explaining to me the benefits of being a vampire. We could think deeper, faster, and on multiple levels in comparison to humans. Every sound, sound, and smell we detected were saved perfectly in our minds to be remembered at a time of our choosing in exquisite detail. We were unimaginably strong in comparison to humans he told me, as he hefted a boulder across a river.
The first time I saw myself in the sun, he explained to me the rules we all lived by - avoid detection at all costs, tell no one, and make no mistakes with newborns or face the Volturi. While I marveled at my new abilities, I could not help feeling lost, unable to communicate with Carlisle my fears, because I did not want him to experience guilt for granting my Mother's dying wish that he do everything in his power to ensure that I lived. I also sensed a deep loneliness in Carlisle, and could not imagine how he had survived on his own without someone to share his secret for all these centuries. He did not have to inform me that we also felt emotions more strongly than did humans. Loneliness experienced by a vampire would have shattered the mind of a mere mortal. It would have been beyond the capacity of the human to bear.
Because of my newborn bloodlust, I had no one other than Carlisle to turn to for comfort and reassurance during those difficult first years. I had initially intended on leaving him and joining the Army - only to have him explain that as a newborn I would be so overcome with bloodlust that I would most likely kill everyone in sight both friend and foe. As vampires in North America at that time were rare, besides Carlisle I lacked any other company of my own new species to gain a sense of perspective. To protect me from myself Carlisle had quit his job and moved us to a remote cabin in Ashland, Wisconsin.
I felt guilty that he had made this sacrifice on my behalf considering how lonely I sensed him to be. I felt like an ingrate for complaining about my fate. So I held my tongue. And I did my best to pretend with him that I had accepted this new life, and excused any emotional outbursts as attributable to my newborn status.
In the time we lived alone away from civilization, I had learned to accept Carlisle as a Father substitute. Beyond his company one of the few joys I had I experienced occurred when I ran. Although I had enjoyed running during my human life, the speed that I now possessed was breathtaking.
Whenever upset, I would, accompanied by Carlisle, go for a run. Quietly, I despaired at the lack of interaction with others to test my theories about my newfound nature. As my human memories faded, I panicked.
I remember thinking that if I forgot my past, how would I be able to keep the faith and live up to the glory of the Masen name? Carlisle had warned me that this could happen and had suggested that I start keeping journals of everything I recalled from my human life. I spent months scribbling down everything I could remember.
The day I forgot what my own Father's face looked like, I remember tearing trees out by their roots, shredding their trunks while screaming aloud and shaking my fists at the heavens in frustration. The sunny blue sky mocked my pain, it seemed. If I could not remember who I was when I lived in truth, I thought, then I would cease truly to exist and simply become an animal.
Placing his arm on my sobbing shoulder, Carlisle had quietly embraced me sitting beside me on the ground. "Edward, often God gives us challenges in this life. It is up to us to respond to them with grace."
"I apologize for my outburst. I am frustrated at my inability to remember. I am sure this will pass."
I lied to Carlisle because I had desperately wanted to believe him.
As each day slipped into endless night, I fought furiously to retain my human memories spending countless hours writing in journals frantically trying to freeze myself in time, feeling them gradually slip away until I could only remember flashes of faces and ideas. The winter day I opened my first volume and read and did not recall any of the events on the page, wondering for a moment whose book I had found, I think the little that remained of my soul vanished into nothingness.
If I could not have my memories of whom I had been as a human, then how could I still be me? It seemed the young man in the starched shirt truly had died in every way in Chicago, although I heard him whispering to me from time to time. The journal had dropped from my hands, and I ran outside into the blizzard screaming when I realized the frigid wind had no effect on my body, and my frantic breaths did not produce the expected clouds of frost. Carlisle had chased after me, finding me sobbing in a snowdrift, and had brought me back to the cabin.
I felt awkward beyond words to have to rely on Carlisle's perfect memory to explain to me what my Father had done for a living or where I had lived for all of my almost 18 years on earth. When he suggested changing my name to Edward Cullen, I did not hesitate to adopt his surname. Edward Anthony Masen had died. Hearing that surname hurt. Cullen sounded like a strong name.
Carlisle had gradually exposed me to humans over the next several years testing my resistance to their scent. I had struggled at every step, mentally declaring myself evil and unworthy of being around them in the aftermath of experiencing intense blood lust. The several close calls I had along the way terrified and repulsed me, although Carlisle argued they had reflected progress on my part. Although it was far better than the alternative the instinctive rush I had felt when draining an animal dry had left me bereft afterward sitting on my knees hating what I had to do to blameless beasts in order to keep from attacking innocent humans. And the euphoria that I felt while sucking the blood from the poor animal only added to my disgust.
I had known that Carlisle would feel guilty if he understood the extent of my self-loathing, so I did my best to hide it from him. I could not begin to comprehend how God could turn me into a beast that instinctively sought to cannibalize others for their blood. Carlisle had patiently insisted we continue our exercises to build up my resistance.
I had discovered along the way that I had reserves of talents. My ability to read Carlisle's mind had comforted me to see his thoughts were every bit as kind as his compassionate words. Along the way, I had learned I possessed an unusual talent to act and mask my true emotions. He had no idea of the depth of my suffering. And I planned on keeping it that way if I could possibly help it.
When I had discovered, to my shock, that I could read the human minds around me like I could Carlisle's, it only added to my feelings of alienation. The ability to hear their every thought compounded with the very real need to keep my physical and emotional distance acted to divorce me from the little bit of humanity that I had been able to tolerate. Also, it had offended my notion of manners that I could hear their every private thought. I had felt like the worst kind of monster raping their minds without their knowledge unable to stop the flow of information. I had tried despite the lack of exposure to humans to believe in my purpose, to struggle against my nature. Then Carlisle decided to add to our family.
As I had survived my newborn year without killing anyone, he felt safe taking a night job at a local hospital. Three years after my change, Carlisle found Esme in the morgue. He told me he had recognized her battered body as the young girl he had treated for a broken leg years ago. The attendants had explained to him that she had jumped from a cliff after her newborn son had died. As they left her body on an examining table before him, Carlisle had detected a faint heartbeat.
I think in that moment, he realized that despite my company, he was still lonely. He had this strange expression on his face when he showed up at home carrying her squirming body wrapped in canvas. I remember being appalled at the devastation her fall had wracked on her pitiful frame when he had removed the cloth from her to lay her on the ground in the same place I had awoken all those years ago. Watching her transformation had been ghastly.
Esme's thoughts had screamed in my mind along with her voice, as I experienced both mentally and aurally her terror at the burning that enraged her form. I had felt pity for her because her mind believed that her estranged husband was beating her again. Carlisle had winced when I explained her thoughts, and had gently held her in his arms while she cried, telling her that she was safe.
Part of the turning process, Carlisle had explained, entailed the body ridding itself of unnecessary fluids. I had been appalled to see her dark blouse become soaked in breast milk, wincing as Carlisle explained the loss of her child. The smell of the milk had started Esme screaming about her baby, which made it that much worse. She kept crying that she needed to feed her child.
I had gone to my bureau and retrieved a shirt offering it and a towel to Carlisle so he could change her into something that would not remind her of her baby. I had turned to look away as he had used his hands to gently express the rest of the milk from her breasts and cleaned her before changing her into my shirt. The impact of the fall from the cliff had broken her spine, both legs, and one arm, as well as fracturing her skull. Her body, when the clothing was removed had been essentially one large bruise, from what Carlise said. I took his word for it, because I refused to look at her without clothing, feeling that would be violating her privacy. I had expressed disbelief that she could possibly endure the transition given her wounds.
Carlisle had looked at me sadly and said, "Edward as long as the heart is beating our venom can cure just about anything. But the state of her body will make her transformation unfortunately more painful because her bones will have to knit together literally in hours. Also, because pain killer depresses the heart rate, I could not afford to give her any. She might not have survived the transition. I wasn't sure exactly how to go about making a vampire when I bit you, and I've always regretted that you endured as much suffering as you did because I suspect I bit you in too many locations. Hers is going to be every bit if not more, painful as what you experienced."
Carlisle looked away. I did not answer because I simply did not know what to say. I would never have condemned another to this life. I loved Carlisle and prayed that Esme would take to it better than I had.
At the end of the third day, she had opened her eyes, taken one look at Carlisle smiled beautifully and said, "You saved me." I could tell by her thoughts that she rejoiced at the sight of him and noticed he felt equally as amazed. He looked like someone had smacked him across the forehead with a plank, if that were possible.
I couldn't help but feel lonely in that moment in comparing her happiness at her change with those I had experienced. I left the house for a week to give them time to become accustomed to one another after Carlisle assured me he could handle her. Since he had the time off from work no one noticed his absence.
Carlisle and Esme, once I returned, claimed to be deeply in love. Along with her grief at the loss of her child, I could hear the happy thoughts radiate from them both. At first, Esme had a hard time dealing with both emotions simultaneously. Carlisle was amazingly patient and helpful with her.
They married shortly thereafter. The awkward part involved Esme having to use forged documents and another name to accomplish the deed. Legally, she was currently married to a vile creature named Charles Evonston whose abuse she had fled after being abandoned to his clutches by her parents.
The addition of Esme had made our existence somewhat easier. And helping her through her newborn years had offered a welcome distraction. Although I was happy for Carlisle I could not understand the emotions he experienced. That initially bothered me but I ultimately dismissed it from my mind thinking that perhaps that meant that romantic love was something I was never meant to find. Esme had taken one look at me and instantly considered me her child. I had been awed at her ability to love me as her own, not quite believing it to be capable. I had not wanted to hurt her feelings, so I had not turned away from her maternal affection. Her presence made our family feel complete.
Carlisle when he felt I was emotionally ready explained to me the steps he had taken to protect our secret in Chicago. He had created a false paper trail making him my relative and leasing out my house after storing all my family's possessions. He had hired trusted workers to pack everything I now owned as he had his hands full at the time with me. He explained to me that I now was extremely wealthy and gave me a box containing my Mother's jewelry. While assuredly grateful for all that he had done on my behalf, I couldn't help appreciating the irony. Although I owned riches beyond my wildest dreams, I felt an extreme poverty of the soul. I set aside my Mother's jewelry, knowing that I would never be giving a wife of my own, thinking that one day I could look upon the baubles without feeling the pain of my Mother's loss. I recalled a vague memory from my human life of her holding the ring out to me. I placed it gingerly back into its velvet case and snapped the lid closed decisively and hid it in the back of a box.
In 1927, Chicago had become my temporary home. I had decided to go out on my own for a few years and live independently. I had assured Carlisle that this was necessary to prove my control. Privately, I had wanted to give him and Esme time alone as a couple. I had always left our home when they were intimate as my vampiric senses and ability to read minds had made the lack of privacy extremely uncomfortable for me and I knew for them as well.
I had only recently been working on my ability to block the roar of other minds and practicing on Esme and Carlisle during their lovemaking seemed repugnant - not to mention ungentlemanly. It was that very situation that drove me to need to find more minds around me to gain control of my gift. At that time, I had felt mortified to be able to hear my Parents at their most intimate moments and lack the ability to block their thoughts while still hearing every rustle of movement from their small bedroom. So with the best of intentions I had decided to live on my own for a few years to practice my gifts so that living with them would become easier.
Using my money that Carlisle had set aside, I had found a quiet abode where I could live but not be disturbed by others on the outskirts of the city. The first time I walked into the city proper the amount of thoughts around me had created this literally wall of sound that made simple cognition difficult. I had run home immediately. Gradually over the next six months, I had learned how to block the thoughts until I could still hear them but they were not as intrusive. I had taken it as a sign of progress when the predator side of me could scan the minds around me to identify those that could possibly pose a threat to my safety while pushing the mundane ones to the background. Realizing that my mind could operate on multiple levels following multiple minds at once had been one of the few times I felt impressed at being a vampire. I spent weeks testing my range. Carlisle had explained to me that talents might start out weak but progressively grow in strength the longer we existed (I couldn't say the world "alive" and think of myself). I found that statement to be true regarding my gift. I could follow the minds of people for a few blocks at first, and gradually increased it to several miles before I reached a limit.
I continued to fight to believe in Carlisle's words about the state of our soul until the first time while wandering the streets of Chicago late one night and practicing my gift I lost control and murdered a human. I knew from his thoughts he had planned on killing and violating a tiny child of his neighbor. I had stopped him as he had reached for the sleeping little girl in her bed. After having followed him for miles listening to his perverse thoughts, I had dragged him away from the room. From his frantic thoughts, I had also gleaned that he had slain 15 children under the age of 8 years in 15 different cities and had considered it a game. Although I had initially simply planned on killing the man once I snapped his neck, I immediately lost control. My mind went blank and I experienced the most amazing rush of power as I gave in to the creature within me in a blind rage. I hadn't hunted in weeks, and fell victim to my natural appetite in a moment of justifiable anger.
As a counterpoint to the young man sitting in church in the starched shirt, the creature standing before the pleading murderer methodically draining him of his blood seemed like an entirely different being. I had embraced the satisfaction I felt not only from the act of feeding, but more importantly, in protecting the children in the area from a predator. Knowing I could kill two birds with one stone seemed liberating. The sensation of euphoria that had rushed through me convinced me at the time I had found my calling.
For the next three years, I had lived away from my family feasting like a glutton on the blood of criminals as often as I could find them. And there seemed to be no dearth of criminals in Chicago. I had piously convinced myself that although taking lives was regrettable, I acted to protect the innocent.
When I had found Esme's estranged husband trying to murder another man, I had felt vindicated in killing them both. After all, both men's thoughts had revealed multiple killings between them. I had left Esme's husband's body with his blood intact because I had wanted it to be found by the police. The other, however, I had cheerfully feasted upon without a second thought. And now, Esme's marriage to Carlisle could be real legally with him gone. They had been forced to use fake names to escape the crime of bigamy when they had wed. I had arranged for news of his death to reach them, but never told them that I was responsible.
For the first time since waking up on the floor in the cabin, I knew emotions like joy and happiness and satisfaction. I took pride in a sense of accomplishment as I nightly patrolled the streets of my city. I actually found myself smiling from time to time. The sense of ecstasy from feeding was second to the sense of justice in ridding the world of it scum that preyed on the weak. Chicago, during that time, experienced one of the lowest crime rates in its history. I knew why.
During my time in the city I had also rid it of five vampires who had not been discriminating in their prey. Initially, upon hearing their thoughts, I had been overjoyed to discover another of my kind, hoping to be able to gain perspective and perhaps a friend. I had been disappointed each time in searching their thoughts to discover every one of them simply functioned to hunt every human they could find and feed as often as they could without care to gender, age, or discovery. Each vampire I had encountered had been baffled initially upon finding me, thinking that I merely wanted their meal.
I had not bothered to explain myself while dismembering and setting alight their corpses. I knew they would not have understood. It gave me a boost of confidence because two of them had been older than Carlisle, and I had still dispatched them with ease. My mental abilities meant I could find any vampire that entered my territory and word must have spread because I did not encounter any others during my time there. I discovered a newfound love of battle and thrill that, once again, I could use my strength to protect humans.
I told myself that Carlisle, in relying on animals, had been misled. We were not designed for privation. We could find a way to make our unique gifts useful in protecting humanity and still be true to our nature. I never attempted to try to explain this to him, because deep down inside I had not wanted to face his rejection if he disagreed, as I had suspected he would. I had not wanted him to know I had turned from the path he had recommended as being the most humane. I had not wanted him to be disappointed in me. So I cradled my newfound sense of accomplishment to my silent breast and kept my distance. I did not encounter any other vampires during that time to compare notes, and insisted to myself that I still had a purpose and could live this way for eternity. My rebellious years and the happiness I experienced during them halted the winter night I killed a wealthy young man who for thrills enjoyed murdering the innocent for sport.
I had been wandering through a bad section of Chicago during a snow storm when I had heard his disgusting mind while he was attacking his prey. I had raced through the pitch black alley and had torn his body from his crumpled victim. Gleefully, I had snapped his neck and had savored feasting upon his blood, taking my time dispatching him in the dark. Uncharacteristically, I had drowned out all other noise in my wrath. Once I finished with my meal, I had only then noticed in the inky darkness a young woman sobbing curled on her side in the filthy alley the snow couldn't hide. I had never actually stopped an assault in progress - I had always sought out criminals either before or after the fact. People who met me never lived.
In that moment, smelling her fear and her blood, I had been sorely tempted to drain her as well. That had caught me off guard, as I had never taken an innocent life. I had looked into her eyes in her battered tear streaked face, and had seen reflected in them a fiend. Reading her mind, and seeing her terrified reaction, initially had tempted me to follow my instinct. I could not have word of my nature spreading through town and bringing on the wrath of the Volturi on my head.
In my brief hesitation, I had failed to notice the delicately engraved silver knife embedded to the hilt in her chest. It gleamed in the night, surrounded by several stab wounds that bled furiously. My main memory at the time had been relief that I would leave no witness behind. I had stalked to her side as she had quailed from me, lured by her blood as it poured from her chest. At such a late hour and in such extreme cold, I had little fear of other witnesses stumbling across us. As I approached in the dark, I had noticed moonlight glinting from a silver cross on her breast, and an outfit I belatedly recognized as a habit with its white starched collar partially covered by a black woolen cloak. There were two limp forms beside her on the ground, rapidly cooling in the night air. I couldn't believe I had not noticed it earlier, and attributed my inattention to my rage and bloodlust.
I remember being appalled upon reading her thoughts of the attack to realize that her murderer had first slain her escorts - a flaxen blonde cherubic looking boy named Simon of 6 years and his dark curly haired brother Bartholomew of 12 years. I looked at their slit throats, terrified faces frozen in death, and staring eyes. Both had broken arms in their struggle to live. Simon's left hand had been shattered. Bartholomew's jaw and all his ribs had been broken. Both of his hands had been bloodied from his fight to protect Sister Claire and his brother. They had never stood a chance.
In my time on earth, I had seen, even committed acts of savagery, but I had never personally witnessed the murder of children. To my disgust, I felt the pull of their sweet rapidly cooling blood and if I could, I would have vomited in that second. My instincts warned me that the faster their blood cooled, the less appealing it would taste and goaded me to pounce upon them all. I swallowed a mouthful of venom, and briefly closed my eyes, gathering my will power.
It had appalled me to realize I had almost gaily feasted upon dead children and a victimized young nun, and worse, that my blood lust meant I had dallied with her attacker for sport. Now it was too late to save a truly innocent being. I may have been an animal, but I remembered enough of my human life to realize that women and children deserved better treatment. I had realized that as she had devoted her life to God, killing her would have been the ultimate sin. My eyes skipped over the cross and focused instead on the white cotton of the collar of her habit. It reminded me of the idealistic boy before the flu had crept in the room to spirit his soul away.
Although the emotionally detached part of me had longed to end her considerable suffering, I had not been able to bring myself to snap her neck. And I had wondered why I never had hesitated to kill a criminal, and yet had paused to watch her suffer and die, withholding mercy. As she had wept, I had remained silent standing motionless and observing, my thoughts wavering. Finally, I had decided the least I could do was wait for her to pass so she would not die alone in the dark. For reasons that had bewildered me, my feet would not permit me to leave her abandoned in the alley. I had resolved that even a fiend's company would be better than no one at all save the corpses of children and the storm.
I took a small step closer keeping my features calm and really looked at her face for the first time. Her vibrant dark red hair peeked from under her veil, and she possessed lovely green eyes - eyes like mine as mortal, eyes that were the same color as my Mother's. I could tell from her mind that she was 30, the age I would have been had I lived. Her thoughts indicated she had been on her way to tend to a woman in labor a block away. She had walked these streets for years without incident and could not believe that she had been attacked. I could feel her pain. It surprised me that I could understand how she felt. I had long believed I had lost the capacity to empathize. I had stopped trying years ago. As the seconds passed and I did nothing to harm her, she had mentally decided that she would try to talk to me to see if I could help her and the children and keep her attacker from harming her further. She had thought him wounded, not dead.
"What did you do?" she whispered blood flecking her lips. I could hear it spreading in her abdomen as she wheezed, and knew it wouldn't be long. I fought against the desire to drain her on the spot.
"I killed him. He murdered the children. I'm sorry that your wounds also appear mortal. Is there someone I can contact? You don't have much time." I said impassively from four feet away. I saw the image of St. Mary's church come into her mind. Although this was a poorer part of town, the church crouched four blocks away like a sanctimonious gargoyle. I could read her thoughts to see that my face seemed abnormally calm given the news I had imparted.
"Thank you....St. Mary's. And please don't let them ...." She gasped in pain and wept looking at the children. Her thoughts told me the children were orphans who had been under her care.
I heard her thoughts as she recited in Latin aloud a prayer Roman Catholics were instructed to say before death, "Deus meus, ex tot corde poenitet me omnim meorum pecccatroum.... Her faith shone through her thoughts, I observed, curiously.
Regardless of her pain at losing the children, her physical pain at being assaulted, her desire to forgive her murderer despite her agony humbled me. Her prayer faltered as she weakened, mentally ending it before saying the last line. It had been one I had known well from my mortal life. Surprisingly, I could remember it verbatim although many of my other human memories had dimmed. I translated the portion she had uttered into English in the silence of my mind. I could not utter the words in Latin. I was not fit to: "Oh my God I am sorry for my sins. In choosing to do wrong, and in failing to do good. . ."
"I'm sorry." I whispered and for reasons that I questioned to this day hesitatingly crouched down beside her, reached out, and touched her hand as she cried. Her cry startled me and I jumped in shock almost like a human as our hands connected. Compared to my own, her hand felt so warm. My action represented the first time I had willingly touched another human in kindness. It had been so long I had forgotten what simple touch felt like. Fearing her revulsion, I moved to withdraw it only to have her clutch onto my hand with impressive strength. I could see in her mind that my face again looked stone-like and adjusted it into something approaching a sympathetic expression. I tried to think of Carlisle. She relaxed a bit and I realized from the thoughts in her mind that it had worked. I looked almost human, albeit distant. It was so cold outside her tears froze on her cheeks as they fell. With my free hand, I took a handkerchief and carefully dabbed her face.
"What is your name?" She gasped back a sob.
"Edward."
"Claire. Ed..... you did good."
"Believe me when I say Sister Claire that I did not." I could tell my eyes were changing with the absorption of the blood I had consumed. I tried not to stare at the gushing blood on her chest. I stopped my intake of air.
"There's no steam coming from his lips in this cold. He's not breathing. He's not human. Has God sent me an angel?" She thought in her mind. That surprised me and I looked at her startled.
"I know .....your hands and eyes. You're not breathing Are you an angel?" She grimaced. She mentally thought to herself that she was not making sense. But I understood her every word. As no one else was around and I knew she would soon depart this realm I decided to indulge her, disappointed in what I thought she was requesting.
"No." I said in a clipped tone.
"Will you please-" I cut her off
"Ah then you do not mind spending your last minutes on earth with a soulless creature. Or are you asking me to make you one of my kind? I would never curse another to this existence." My tone was frigid as were my eyes.
"Edward. I .... accept death." She stopped and coughed. Blood sprayed from her mouth landing on her cheek and the handkerchief I held against it. She was becoming weaker and it became difficult for her to speak. But I could read her thoughts. "A soulless creature would not hold my hand. Or talk to me. Or care. God loves us all." I could see shock setting in as her features became paler.
"That's a lie. God does not love all of us." My harsh words belied the fact that I gingerly held her hand. She shivered from more than the cold.
I could sense from her thoughts that she knew I could read her mind in that moment. She looked relieved rather than frightened. Her next thought haunted me, "Sometimes the most devastating lies are the ones we tell ourselves, Edward. God loves you. Else you would not be here with me. You have a purpose in this life."
Claire's breathing suddenly became more labored. Staring at the knife in her chest she begged with her eyes. I knew that if I removed it she would die within seconds.
"You have the choice, you can wait for death, which will take about fifteen minutes, or I can pull the knife from your chest which will kill you in under two minutes." I kept my voice calm as my free hand reached for the blade. I recalled one of Carlisle patients dying under similar circumstances. I was not a doctor, so was only guessing.
In a gesture I will never forget, she stopped my hand, and nudged it weakly away from the knife. Mentally I heard her say, "My life is in God's hands." She looked at me took a breath, whispered, "Oh, God." She gave one last anguished look at the children, regretting her inability to protect them, and pleaded with me in her mind to care for their bodies.
The words sprang from my lips, astonishing me, "I will," I said to her. I'd like to think she heard me, but she was unconscious by the end of my utterance.
Ten minutes later Claire quietly died. It humbled me that as she lay dying she thought of everyone else but herself. She did not go gently into that bitter night.
I pulled the knife from her chest ignoring the sucking noise it made on exit. The moonlight glinting from the blade gave me pause. The fact that I had wanted to drink her dry as I had awkwardly held her hand and watched her soul depart her carcass was like peeling away a film over my eyes. I had seen my hunting of humans - even though I had targeted those that belonged in the gutter for what it truly was: sport in the name of food. Her assurance that God loved me while I hunkered over the pitiful broken bodies of two children I had failed to save only served to remind me how far I had fallen. Her kindness reminded me of Carlisle and in that moment I knew he would be disappointed in what I had become.
Kneeling before her corpse on the icy ground like a penitent on marble, I finished the words of her prayer aloud for her in English, "And I firmly intend with the help of your son Jesus Christ, to go and sin no more. Amen." I said the prayer for her so that her soul and those of the children would be welcomed in heaven. I knew better than to pray for myself.
After disposing of her murderer's body, I had cleaned her face and those of the children as best I could. I might have killed more than my fair share of men, but I had never before seen bodies of women and children in anything but the minds of criminals. My hands had trembled almost like when I was human as I used snow to wash away the dirt and blood and make their bodies as presentable as possible. Since having awakened as a vampire, I had never laid a hand on a human before without the intent of harming him. So I used feather light touches to quickly complete my work.
In the dark of night, I spirited their corpses to St. Mary's as she had requested. I had not entered a church since my change and walking in with their bodies - having to break into the building to do so had seemed to be oddly appropriate. Those doors were forever barred to me, regardless of what she said about God's love because she had not known how many lives I had taken. I had left them on the floor before the altar, hands clasped in prayer, covered in the pilfered altar cloths from the sacristy, taking the knife with me. Knowing I was unworthy, something had compelled me to take holy water and make the sign of the cross on each of their foreheads asking God to watch over them.
Although I knew the myth about holy water burning vampires was a fairy tale I had been surprised that my hand had not stung or the water boiled over when touching the font for the first time since I had been turned. I had left a note on Sister Claire saying that they had been avenged, accompanied by enough money to pay for their funerals and masses to be said in their names for a decade. After clearing my quarters of my few possessions, I had fled Chicago that bitterly cold night clutching the knife and my bloody handkerchief in hand.
I ran like the devil himself pursued me with grasping hands, and swore that I never wanted to see that city again.
The happiness that I had felt evaporated to be replaced by a sense of numbness as I thought on all the mortal sins I had willfully committed in the name of righteousness. Once I hit a forest with tall trees I frantically climbed to the top of the largest one I could and sat there for days looking towards the north where I knew Carlisle and Esme lived. I don't recall much of what I thought during those days in the tree. I only know that at last I decided to climb down and run as fast as I could. My sense of moral superiority faded with each mile I put between myself and the city. Eventually, I found myself standing on a frozen lake and fell to my knees. Dante, in his tract on the Inferno, had described the lowest form of hell as a world of ice. The worst sin was treason against one's lords and benefactors. Dante described these figures as punished by God to be trapped under ice. I belonged under that ice, for I had most assuredly in my hubris betrayed everything my vampire Father had taught me. I wanted to cry, but instead lay face down on the ice. A bird cried out causing me to flip over in surprise, and I realized it had started to snow. I heard a party of humans coming nearby, hunting. And I ran as fast away from them as I could straight north to find Carlisle.
Like the prodigal son, I had returned to the welcoming arms of Carlisle and Esme. It had taken me three months from that night to work up the courage to approach them. I had hunted and gorged myself on every animal I could snatch within my desperate grasp. Since I had lived in the wilderness I did not have access to a mirror to determine whether or not my eyes had changed color from maroon to topaz to hide my shameful deeds. And I had no idea of how long the process would take.
Finally, I decided that it didn't matter that my family would judge me regardless of how long I drank animals and that I needed to get this over with, to see if they would welcome me home. They had asked no questions, expressed concern at my ragged clothes and guilty eyes, and allowed me to tell my story at will. Changing in the bathroom after cleaning the grime from my body, it elated me to see that I only had red flecks left in my irises. They would never have to know. I had felt so ashamed that I had never told any of my family the true extent of the lives I had slain. Instead, I vowed to perfect my self-control and to never hunt a human again for food.
Carlisle sensed my loneliness. He decided to move the family to Rochester, New York to give us a fresh start and thankfully a larger house offering more privacy. In the dark of the night on his way home from work, he stumbled upon Rosalie Hale's battered body, and had brought her home and changed her hoping she could be my mate. I had taken one look at Rosalie's ethereal beauty and remembered her haughty manner while alive, knew that I could never feel any romantic pull toward her. I hadn't realized until the words escaped my lips that Rosalie had heard me dismiss her to Carlisle. I had winced at causing her further pain in addition to the agony she now suffered, mentally calling myself a jackass. I decided it was best she not start this life with any misunderstanding. Despite her histrionics during her newborn year and her campaign of vengeance on her attackers, Rosalie blended well into the family. She clutched to my parents while I held myself aloof. She became the child they so desperately needed, and I did not resent her for it. After all, I was damaged.
Rosalie and I did have in common our despair at being a vampire although I couldn't let her know I shared that sentiment. Perhaps that was why I never argued with her. Carlisle told me that I had been an only child as a mortal so having a sibling was new to me. Rosalie turned her pain into a different direction than mine. She constantly thought of how she missed being a human. She found Emmett wounded in the forest in 1935 and returned with him in her arms begging our Father Carlisle to change him, walking away with her bewildered but enthralled mate three days later. Emmett had never questioned his feelings for her I could tell by his thoughts, merely reinforcing to me the idea that love was not for me to feel. I quickly bonded with Emmett once he calmed down from his impressive newborn rage that had kept all of us occupied for the better part of a year.
Jasper and Alice showed up on our doorstep in 1950 completing our family. I could tell by their thoughts alone that they were mates when my eyes first fell upon them, although they were not physically demonstrative. Jasper's Civil War era mannerisms forbid treating a lady in such a fashion in front of an audience. Their connection however, was the strongest of all the couples. It seemed odd that everyone had somehow stumbled upon their mate by chance while I remained alone by choice. Odd to everyone but me. We changed names every time we moved. The next place we lived she had taken the name Mary and ever since then in my mind I privately thought of her as Mary Alice. I did not treat her differently than the others, though. I stayed in the background so they would not be bothered by me.
In the years since that time, although I had been tempted, I had never slipped a single time. All it took whenever the smell of someone's blood tempted me was to recall the image of those bodies in that alley on that winter's night. I used those feelings of impotence at not being able to medically assist Sister Claire to seek two different medical degrees at Ivy League institutions. The pull of the blood had been so much that completing my residencies had not at the time been an option I wanted to risk. I had continued with other degrees at other colleges. I earned three masters in biochemistry, four masters in biology, and ten bachelor degrees in various areas of the liberal arts usually earning double majors with each one. I had applied myself and had learned 47 languages fluently. Most importantly, I had rediscovered the joy of the piano which I had not touched since I had been a human, spending hours composing. Music became the key to maintaining my sanity and I lost myself in it as often as I could. Mother worried that I played without emotion. So I turned to the outdoors for solace.
I mentally blocked out the years I had spent in high schools around the world as a waste of my education. But I had endured that time in part to atone for my sins to show that I could exercise the necessary self control to refrain from behaving like a monster and to keep learning how to act like the human I no longer was. I perfected the art of blending in, but keeping people at arm's length. I spoke only if directly addressed by another and answered in clipped but polite tones as briefly as possible. When they thought me aloof I did nothing to change their minds. It never occurred to me to make friends with any of them because I knew being around humans in private was not a good idea for my self control. My siblings followed my example. Soon no matter what school I attended, humans left me alone.
Like Dante in the woods, I had somehow wandered from the path over the past 90 years, only to awaken at Father's words to me today about my relationship with Bella wondering how that had happened. Day after day of longing to be something other than a vampire had changed me. Night after night of wishing to be something that did not constantly crave the life's blood of the frail humans around me had eventually transformed me into this wounded and scarred leviathan encased in a perfect shell. And the wounds in my soul had spread to the relationships around me. I seemed to poison everything I touched. I thought back to how I had treated my family all those years ago.
Although I had tolerated the love of my family, I had kept them slightly at arm's length in my heart. I had not been able to admit to anyone, including myself, the pain I had felt. Being able to hear everyone's innermost private thoughts without having a mate of my own with whom I could share mine wore at me. I had tried to shield myself from hearing the passionate expression of emotions of my family members night after night, often going into the woods and running for hours. My music collection and ability to close off my mind had also grown exponentially. I had refused to let my family know how achingly lonely the past 70 years had been being the odd one out in a family of happy couples. My pride would not permit me. I could not burden them with what would never change.
I was content to be single; it was better that way, really. Who would ever be capable of loving someone as loathsome as me? Besides, I had met thousands of incomparable women in my lifetime, both mortal and immortal, and not a single one had ever made a strong impression. Some had left me briefly flustered; others I would have liked to imagine myself with in improper ways for brief ungentlemanly moments. My brain stuck to its pattern of dismissing them all. In the end, none had aroused in me anything more than a mentally impolite appreciation for her charms. I had long ago abandoned the hope that anyone could come into my life and complete my heart. Then that human girl came stumbling into my classroom and ripped apart my life.
I had never in all my existence smelled, much less imagined, inhaling any fragrance on earth quite that exquisite. And I had concurrently never had such a strong desire to resist that instinctive drive. The bewildering impulses to feast upon and protect this dainty girl sent me literally scurrying for the hills of Alaska within a few hours of setting eyes upon her. I could not comprehend how roughly seventy-five years of endless vigilance could be swept away in seconds.
Tanya had been frightened by the wild look in my eyes when I had shown up on her doorstep begging shelter. From the initial expression on my face, she had initially thought I had massacred the entire school. The topaz of my irises told her otherwise. With a slightly irritated tone she said, "Edward, could you please explain to me why I am sensing lust coming from your form, and it is not aimed at either me or any of my sisters?"
"I met a human." I said that like I'd killed legions of humans - which actually I kind of had - but hadn't done just then. I couldn't keep the revulsion from my voice.
"You meet humans every day, dear boy. What of her?"
Sheer desperation took control of my tongue and forced my lips to splutter, "I wanted to ........I ....."
"Oh. My." Tanya stared at my mortified face. "Are you telling me that you are physically attracted to a human girl?" She tried to keep her tone even, and wondered how physically attractive this female was in comparison to her and her sisters. Tanya couldn't imagine anyone not desiring her, yet still wanting another. Then the professional Tanya took over as she offered me her compassion.
"I don't even know her. I don't understand how I just want to tear her throat out the second I see her. It's horrible."
"Wait, are you telling me her scent affects you?"
"Yes. I've never smelled anything that glorious before in my life, Tanya. It's like this invisible hand has reached out from hell and forced me to focus on her whether I want to or not. I hate it. I had to leave."
"Oh, Edward, you're not really attracted to this girl at all, silly boy." Tanya looked so relieved; I had to hear her answer.
"I'm definitely sure I felt something ungentlemanly toward her, Tanya. Why else would I want to leap upon her that way?"
"Do you remember when your brothers met the women they killed without hesitation?" She referred to unfortunate incidents when my brothers had both encountered humans that they instantly killed. The fallout had been horrific.
"Yes, my word, Emmett and Jasper both could not explain what compelled them. I felt so terrible for them."
"They met their singers."
"Pardon me?"
"A singer is a unique person, a fluke that Nature put on the planet. Her blood is irresistible to that particular vampire. We call them singers because it literally waves across you like the delicate notes of an aria. No immortal can resist a singer. No one; except, of course, you, Edward Cullen. Do you have any idea how rare you are?"
Tanya's thoughts indicated shock at my impressive control. Wait. Control? That was control? I always suspected Tanya was insane. This, beyond all doubt, proved it.
"Why would you think I had control? I'm telling you, specifically, Tanya, that I could not control myself around her. I left due to the effects of her blood as you call it."
"Did you kill her?"
"Heavens, no."
"That's my point, Edward. She still lives. That has never happened in my lifetime." Tanya had been around for quite some time as an immortal. Although I suspect it would have been rude to point out her age.
She continued, "You're simply feeling an instinctual drive towards her. And you've shown that you can control yourself enough to sit by her for an hour and not kill her? Edward, that's astounding. I think that you can go back to Forks. The beast has most definitely not taken you over."
Once away from the scent in Denali, my pride drove me to return - furious at being discombobulated by a dull short human girl. After a firm chat with a bemused Tanya, I felt more assured of my immortal self control. There was no way in Hades that I would permit a solitary mortal female to dictate my life and break my clean record. With a curled lip and sneer firmly in place, I returned to Forks within days.
My family members were relieved to see me. Father said, "Edward, I'm delighted to see you back so soon."
I wanted him to know I had not dined on any humans while away from the family homestead and worked up the willpower to look him in the eye.
"Perhaps we should move?" I couldn't help but ask, fearing the effects of her blood on my will.
Rosalie said, irritated, "Is this about that human girl?"
"Yes, I'd rather like to avoid killing her. I'm afraid her blood smells so good to me that I .....fear I'd risk exposing us." I had spoken more in the past few days than I had in the past six months. I hated talking. My hands shook, so I put them on the side of my legs, with flattened palms.
Emmett said, "Edward, I've never seen you even close to slipping. If you didn't kill her right then after sitting in a room with her for an hour, you're not going to kill her if you see her a second time. Just make sure you hunt. I think you can do this, kid." He clapped me on the back cheerfully optimistic.
I had only made one suggestion. I hadn't asked. And they had refused to even consider that it was a request and dismissed it from their minds. With a pit in my stomach, I realized that my family wouldn't move for me.
Now I had two choices. Move to Alaska and continue to fend off Tanya's increasingly irritating seduction attempts and her sisters refusal to become involved in the fracas. Or remain in Forks and deal with the short version of all three of them packed into one form that I actually really desired. Sort of. At least the blood part. I couldn't leave my family. I had to protect them. I owed it to them. And if I wanted to remain a Cullen, then I had to reside here in my new hell.
Jasper sensed feelings I didn't bother to hide and said, "Edward kill her. It will be easier on us all."
Rosalie agreed, "We'd understand, then you could go back to normal."
Before our stunned Parents could correct anyone I snarled, "Anyone who harms her will deal with me." Seeing their ogling eyes, I wanted to flee the room and the house and froze in place like the proverbial deer in front of the headlights. I could not believe those words had come out of my mouth. And I didn't say I was sorry, because I wasn't.
Mary Alice smirked, instantly having a vision that she blocked from my mind. She chortled, "Oh, this is going to be so fun to watch" and sailed merrily out of the room. She called after me, "Oh Edward, you can't kill her because I see she and I will be best friends."
The rest of the family members simply stood slack-jawed gawping at Alice's prediction. We have never interacted with humans individually - well, at least the children in this family did not. It was too dangerous. Mary Alice must have lost her mind, I swore, and joined Tanya in the lunatic asylum. Wait. Never mind.
I looked at Jasper and said, "You might have added a little too much sprightliness when you influenced your wife just now."
Jasper answered, "Your thoughts know darn well, I haven't done anything to her or you for that matter."
He raised an eyebrow thinking to me that I currently emanated this fascinating combination of lust and loathing and left the room seeking his wife's embrace. My brother attributed my behavior to the influence of that human girl. He thought that once I decided what to do; I'd go back to the normal quiet kid that sat in a back corner not making a noise.
I returned to my bedroom to skulk and come up with an answer to the mystery of the lovely dull human girl I could not keep my nose from chasing. I had to have a plan by the time school started again. I decided the first thing I had to do was hunt to the point of gorging, in order to ensure I maintained my control. Something told me I would be requiring vast reserves of it in the immediate future.
Author's Note:
I wanted to establish just why Edward hated himself. I never felt the books answered that issue.
Have you ever wondered why he put up such a big fight about changing Bella?
Why he insisted on marrying her?
Why he couldn't stay away from her?
Have you ever wondered why he would take it upon himself to make major decisions about Bella or their relationship without consulting her?
Have you ever wondered why he even made the agreement with her about marriage?
I have. And I have a different explanation with a different plot that kicks in over the next few chapters.
I've deviated from canon here in what his siblings in the book and his parents knew. Here, only Carlisle and Esme know he killed someone – Edward never told them the extent of what he did. In the books, he felt he belonged to the family. Here, he does not. His change was made all that more traumatic because he didn't feel that he could tell Carlisle how much he hated, absolutely hated being a vampire. So his outbursts as a newborn were attributed to newborn hysterics. And remember, Carlisle didn't have any experience with raising a newborn. Most importantly, Edward has gradually forgotten emotions like love.
Have you ever wondered why Bella took one look at him and just knew in her heart of hearts that he was the one for her while still feeling deep down inside that he would leave her? Have you ever wondered why Edward came across like a stalker watching her while she slept following her around and couldn't leave her alone? And why once she KNEW about it and she didn't take out a restraining order? I have. Again, I have a different explanation.
The following chapter will be lighter in tone, with more humor. Because Bella is going to rattle his world. You'll be reading my AU version of how their relationship developed and what is keeping them both awake at night. To me what is important in this section is to show how Edward as a whole evolved - and that means how he views himself, how he relates to his family, and of course how all that changes once he runs into that dull human girl he can't keep his eyes (or nose) off of. Also, you'll see how Bella changed and grew and you'll understand a different view of that whole wolf/vampire dynamic. And there's a mystery thrown in about just what is so special about Bella Swan.
Here's a teaser for the next chapter:
The idea of all this drama over one stick-thin human baffled me. Besides, at 110 pounds, by my calculations I predicted she had only 7 pints of blood. Had she been a 300 pound linebacker with 20 pints it would have been a different story, not to mention awkward with me following him around with passion filled eyes sniffing his neck in ecstasy. Considering that we normally hunted animals that weighed well over 200 pounds - a brimming pint of beer to humans - I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the image of this tiny girl. In comparison to my normal blood intake it was like being an alcoholic who was constantly stalked by a shot glass brimming with the most exquisite scotch, trying to avoid drinking it. Regardless, I had to maintain my perfect record.
Thanks for reading. And please leave a review if you have time.
I absolutely adore hearing from you, and I answer every one. Then there's the fact that they sincerely do inspire the muses and make me want to write faster. :)
