Chapter 11

Mercutio

"I've spoken with Kate," Tanya's voice said clearly. "If you change Bella, you are free to remain here while she is a newborn."

"Thank you." Rosalie exhaled heavily beside me.

Triumph swelled within me, as I stared into the darkness and waited, knowing that the end would be coming quite shortly. Rather than suffer at the hands of the Grim Reaper, I would join the rank of the immortal angels. My skin would glitter in the sunlight and become the hardest substance on Earth. My blood, my own crimson reservoir, would dry up and be replaced by poison.

All I ever wanted.

After about an hour of deliberations, Rosalie had finally won over the Denalis and gained permission to keep me in the grand home of the five vampires. The discussion finally switched to where and when, which was concluded when Rosalie suggested as soon as possible.

"You're all mad!" Eleazar had exclaimed when Esme finally sided with Rosalie and Tanya's decision. "This girl is not beyond help. Why do you refuse to contact Carlisle?"

"There's a lot going on right now, Eleazar." Rosalie's voice spoke beside me, answering his question angrily. "We've been forced to reevaluate friendships and bonds—including family."

"I don't understand," Eleazar grumbled but did not seem reluctant to listen, so Rosalie continued. Before she could speak, a long series of painful howls echoed through the room, and before I could understand what was going on, I recognized the voice as my own.

The pain in my stomach was getting worse. Every time my heart beat, it seemed to expel waves of fresh torture, and my skin felt like any second it would melt away. The beads of sweat were rolling off me now, temporarily cooling my sweltering epidermis before it heated right back up again. My eyes rolled back into my head and I opened my mouth, letting an uncontrollable scream fill the room.

I crumbled in the bed, feeling the sickness overpowering me as I battled it for possession of my own body. With pleading eyes, I stared at Rosalie, who was trying to cool me with her own hands, and then I looked at Esme.

"H-Help m-me," I stuttered before I lurched upright and a waterfall of vomit spewed from my mouth. The ache of my infection, plus the agony of throwing up, broke my will and I felt myself beginning to lose consciousness. I stared off to the wooded walls of the guest bedroom and gasped as my vision began to darken and blur. I took a deep breath, wincing at the putrid smell of my vomit, and with a silent goodbye, I submitted to the sickness.

When I regained consciousness, I was vaguely aware of the cold hands that surrounded me, feeling as though they were lifting me high into the air. I had to concentrate very hard to listen to the quiet murmurs around me, but after awhile, the struggle to listen and feel became too strenuous. So, I gave up, retreating slowly to the sanctuary of my own thoughts.

I monotonously began to count the feelings of my own breath entering and exiting my lungs. The tedious rhythm calmed me but also made me anxiously curious. I wondered how long they would wait before injecting me with venom; would they follow Rosalie's suggestion of "as soon as possible," or would they put it off?

"Bella." The voice tugged at my wayward attention and, once again, I had to force my strength to allow me to listen. "Can you hear me?"

I can! I wanted to scream for the vampires to get it over with already, but my body was too weak to respond to simple commands. So, after gathering as much energy as I could possibly muster, I lifted my hand upwards.

This was apparently enough, because as soon as I had made that movement, the murmurs came rapidly, one after the other. My hand fell limp at my side, while Eleazar and Rosalie started debating with one another. Though I was partially deaf to their conversation, I did catch a few phrases that made me wish I could hear more.

After a few more minutes of muffled debates, the voices retreated and I was housed in silence—tense, anxiety-filled quiet. At least with all the others in the room, I had a small chance of finding out what was going on; now, I was literally and metaphorically in the dark. With a deep sigh, I did my very best to relax into the thick black haze, but just as I was about to zone out, a voice spoke from the darkness.

"Can you hear me, Bella?" It was Esme's sweet voice – I'd know it anywhere. Despite the surprise flowing through me, I was soothed by her presence. Of all the Cullens who had helped me escape, she could relate to me the most. As I reveled in my mother's company, she began to speak clearly so I could hear her.

"I know what you're going through," she said softly, with a hint of sadness on her voice. "Both our children were ripped away from us. I feel a little spoiled; I was able to hold my child, where you were not granted that ability. I'm so sorry."

Inside my entire body convulsed of the dual agonies within me—the physical pain of my dying form, and the emotional trauma of my lost baby. All my thoughts turned red with rage, directed at the one who had orchestrated everything—Edward. My jaw clenched angrily and I fought to suppress the painful scream billowing inside me. I was on the verge of losing it when Esme's sigh shed light on my warring mind and drew my attention back to her.

"There's something you don't know about me, Bella," Esme said hesitantly. "I'm not as perfect as the others. I have killed."

My breath sped up in anticipation as Esme continued her story. I knew that many newborn vampires were prone to outburst, because that's all they craved—blood and violence. However, it never occurred to me that Esme could have done something like that.

"After Carlisle changed me," she began, spitting out his name angrily, making me feel closer towards her. We were starting to share the same loathing for Edward and Carlisle. "I was still so lost without my son." Her soft tone contorted suddenly, forming an angry growl. "I wanted justice."

I swallowed deeply as I heard her, understanding what she meant.

"I felt robbed, Bella," she hissed bitterly. I felt a weight on the side of the bed; even though I couldn't quite see, I assumed it was Esme sitting next to me. "I wanted to find someone to blame, I wasn't satisfied with Carlisle's explanations of a weakened reproductive system. So, I sought out my own vengeance."

I felt her lift off the bed and heard her walk around the room. I couldn't help but wonder, who did she have to blame for her baby's death? Who could she go to for revenge?

"You're probably wondering who I found to accuse." She answered my thoughts perfectly and laughed maliciously; this newfound side of Esme deeply disturbed and fascinated me. "My human husband, Charles, was a violent man. He used to beat me savagely, and take what he wanted from me. I made several trips to the Doctor after I had proved my duties as a wife."

Shock ran through me like morphine, cutting off my senses, leaving me numb and without feeling. How could anyone, drunk or sober, have done something like that to anyone? That man took a vow to love and cherish Esme, and what had he done instead? My vision grew red hot again, feeling the anger surge through me at the mistreatment of someone I cared about.

"That's when I figured it out, Bella." Esme's voice was eerily calm now, obviously relishing in her epiphany. "Charles was to blame; he killed my baby. With all his abuse and violent behavior, he must have damaged my internal organs, making my children too weak and feeble to survive."

She growled softly. "So, one night, when Carlisle was at work and Edward was predisposed, I stole out the back door and made my way across the terrain. It was almost two hundred miles to Ashford, but I made it in no time at all. Charles had returned from the war and was still living in that shack he called a house." My body went rigid as she continued, sparing no detail. "I opened the door and found him drinking, like always. He was…very surprised to see me."

"He didn't recognize me at first, but when he did he flew into a rage." Esme chuckled and I could almost see a human trying to hurt a vampire. After attempting to punch a werewolf, I knew that humans stood no chance against supernatural creatures. "He demanded to know where I had been, and, when I didn't answer him, he resorted to his usual tactic of getting information."

"He came at me and swung, instantly breaking his hand on my right cheek," she said with a wistful tone that sent shivers down my spine. "The alcohol detracted some of the pain, so he came at me with his left hook, which shattered on impact. He continued like that, too drunk to understand what was happening, until he stumbled backwards with two shattered arms flopping at his side."

"After a few minutes," she said and I felt her rest on the edge of the bed again, "he looked up at me, a dazed expression on his face, and that was when I finally chose to strike. I started with his legs, slowly breaking every bone beyond repair, and then I moved to his torso. I was careful not to spill blood, Bella, I knew as a newborn I wouldn't be able to handle it—and I didn't want that vile man inside my body."

"After a very long hour," she continued, "Charles looked up and me and said 'just kill me,' so I carried him all the way to the cliffs—the same ones I had thrown myself from—and threw him off."

I blanched internally, feeling happy that Esme had got her revenge, but also a little perturbed by her blatant acts of violence. Deep inside the recesses of my mind, I wondered if I had the strength to do the same.

"Bella," she finally spoke after a few minutes of silence. "I know what it is you're seeking, I've been there, and so has Rosalie. It's for that reason that I will help you as best I can."

The brief history I learned from Rosalie popped into my memory. Royce King II was engaged to Rosalie, yet he took no shame in murdering her with his friends. However, she exacted her own revenge on all of them. I had become inducted into a long line of mistreated and misused Cullen women.

Esme had been beaten and abused as a human, and Rosalie had been demeaned by not just one man, but four. Even Alice had been shunned by her own father and hunted by James. Now I, Isabella Swan, deceived by her husband, father-in-law, and best friend, had fallen in line as the latest victim. And like Rosalie and Esme, I would have my vengeance.

I stilled my thoughts, wanting to hear what else Esme had to say, but was met with nothing. Waiting anxiously, the silence stretched on continuously, telling me that Esme must have left the room. Sighing heavily, I let my mind wander and replay the events that lead up to this fateful turn of events.

Everything was so perfect, Edward and I united for the rest of our lives, a blissful existence. Much to my added surprise, fate brought me an unexpected joy—my child—and despite Edward's aversion, I wanted the baby so much.

However, Edward would not be defied; he rallied with Jacob and Carlisle, and, in the dead of night, they took what was mine. I grimaced internally as I remembered waking up, all alone, in the operating room—my womb desecrated and empty.

How did this go so wrong?

By now, I expected that Edward and I would be starting our future together as proud parents. He had told me to my face that he was okay with the baby.

"He lied to you!"

Rosalie's voice ricocheted through my mind, echoing all the pain and heartbreak she, Esme, and Emmett had suffered for my safety. Esme's beautiful stomach had been trapped in Leah's massive jaws, Rosalie's arm had been torn off by my once-thought best friend, and Emmett had fallen victim as well. And me? I endured the greatest betrayal of them all; the people I trusted the most had conspired against me.

They'll pay for this.

Briefly, I recalled all the warnings that Jacob and Billy had heeded about the Cullens, but I'd refused to listen. I was Juliet, in love with Romeo—no matter how destructive the relationship was. Just like the star-crossed lovers, Edward and I both came close to killing ourselves in the name of love.

If only I knew then what I know now; love is blind.

Maybe if I hadn't been so captivated with Edward, I would have seen his leaving me in the forest as a blessing—a release. I wouldn't have had the dreams or made every attempt to hold onto him and the others….if I only knew.

I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, but begot of nothing but thin fantasy.

My breath hitched as I thought of Mercutio, kinsman to the Prince of Verona, and close to Romeo. The Capulets' and Montagues' ultimately caused his end, forcing his famous prophetic phrase: A plague on both your houses!

Until recently, I was cast as Juliet—fragile, pure, and completely in love—but sometime in the last few months, I changed characters. I was no longer the lover of the morose Romeo; I was the victim of the anger and rage. I was Mercutio. And now, in canon with Romeo and Juliet, in order for the next series of events to unfold—I had to die.

Author's Note: Repost