Bella
I wake up to the grass tickling me for the seventh day in a row.
Day seven.
It is hard to comprehend being out of the mill at all, let alone being outside for a week. But when I shift position from the tight ball I fell asleep in, the loud, painful popping of my back assures me I did not imagine spending the last six nights on the ground. I wouldn't trade this limited freedom for anything. I have a new found appreciation for the squeaky mattress I used to rest on, though.
A limited freedom. That is the best way I can think of to describe what has become a normal day. Edward and I have formed an odd sort of routine; solid, but fragile and transparent, like glass.
He hasn't tried to kill me since that night when that strange something passed between us. He still tracks me down after every sun set, but he hasn't laid a hand on me. I would like to say it's a relief; really it only puts me more on edge. I'm constantly trying to figure out why I'm still alive. Did he decide he doesn't like the way I smell? Is my blood not appealing to him? And if that's it, then why is he still hanging around with his stolen supply of water bottles and fruit?
Speaking of water bottles and fruit....
I stand up, stretching while I search for the breakfast bearing vampire. I don't have to search long. Last night's sleeping selection was pretty cramped. Not at all like the clearing I dozed off in once upon a time. I was right to be afraid I wouldn't find it again after I left.
My steps are almost comfortable as I walk towards him and take a seat across from where he waits.
I take the fresh drink and pull in a mouthful. The cold swishes through my teeth, thankfully dispelling the bitter morning taste.
Only once that is taken care of do I bring myself to look at Edward. I'm starting to envy his fresh, clean clothes. What I wear is in such grotesque shape I can't even bear to think about how dirty it is. Or how dirty I am for that matter. Another sacrifice made for my limited freedom.
I glare down at the grass.
"What has you so upset this morning?" Edward asks.
He always gives me time to answer his questions, though I never do.
"Is your back bothering you?"
Silence.
"I'm sorry about that. I know sleeping on the ground can't be very comfortable."
I reach for the fruit of the day, a banana, without acknowledging his apologetic tone.
"Emmett and Rosalie are leaving to go on another vacation tomorrow. I can't say I'm surprised. Rosalie likes a change of scenery, and things are becoming unbearably tense at home," the vampire frowns.
I perk up in interest. My favorite part of our one-sided conversations is hearing about his life. Every word out of his mouth is something new to me.
"They were gone for two months the last time they went to Mexico. About thirty years ago, I think. Emmett had a lot of complaints to share when they returned, so we'll see how long Rosalie can hold him there this time."
I try to imagine Mexico, wishing he'd say more about it. What kind of complaints did Emmett have? What was Mexico like? I have questions, but I keep them contained, nibbling thoughtfully on my banana.
"Whoever destroyed James and his coven still hasn't been found. I doubt they'll ever be found. What little law system we do have is unstable at best. There is an endless debate over what should and shouldn't be legal, or if anything should be considered illegal at all. The mess of it worries Carlisle," Edward mutters speaking more to himself, appearing farther away than before.
And then his expression becomes less distant.
"I use you as a personal sounding board," he chuckles, "Doesn't it ever bore you, listening to me prattle on and on?"
The pause lasts a few seconds. I swallow the last bit of banana and wash it down.
"There are times I wonder if you're truly listening at all. But I can see when something I've said intrigues you, even though you try to hide it. You eat slightly slower, and you look up more often…"
My stomach flips uncomfortably. The idea of being watched so closely is more than a little unsettling.
"What was it about Emmett and Rosalie that sparked your interest?"
I monitor every part of my body, determined not to make any unconscious gestures.
Edward sighs, "Your silence is extremely frustrating, human. Frustrating me isn't a particularly wise thing to do, you know. I'm all you have."
He rises. Breakfast is over.
"I'll meet you for lunch in a few hours," is his usual temporary goodbye.
And he leaves me to think about what he said.
Four days ago he told me he happened upon a feeding schedule while he was at the mill, and realized what he was giving me wasn't nearly enough to last all day. So in addition to breakfast, there is now lunch and dinner.
Lunch is more of a drop off than anything else. He finds me, sets the food nearby, and takes off. It's a relief to eat without his eyes watching my every move. The meal itself is more filling, too. The vampire is beginning to deviate somewhat from the fruit when it comes to lunch and dinner. It's been a welcome change.
The setting of dinner is much more like breakfast, but in the dark. He brings the food along with him when he seeks me out at night. Sometimes he speaks, sometimes he doesn't. I guess it depends on if he has anything to say.
And after I eat, I curl up and try to sleep with his ruby gaze burning relentless holes in my back.
But right now, as I walk aimlessly away from my most recent bed, all I can focus on are the words.
"I'm all you have," he'd said.
And I hate knowing that it's the truth. I hate the power he has over me. It's the same power the vampires had over all of us at the O. P. B. M, but concentrated on one specific vampire instead of a group of disgusting zombies.
What an improvement, I think sarcastically.
But I know it is an improvement. It is far and away from the Draining Room; far and away from 'Reproduction'.
I shudder from the horrible memories.
At least for right now it is, anyway. Who knows what Edward wants from me. He could be using every spare moment to plan some sick, torturous death trap. The vampire had wanted 'entertainment'….
I continue down the line of disturbing thoughts in my head for a couple of hours, only vaguely taking in my surroundings. It's strange for me to be more absorbed in myself than I am in the woods. They are still so much of a mystery.
Then a change in lighting catches my attention, and I'm brought back to the here and now to see what I thought I'd never see again. A break from the trees where I can see the sky. A murky, brown pool I'd walked right into.
Somehow, I found my way back to the clearing.
A huge grin stretches out over my face. I run through the grass, softer here than anywhere else, unable to stifle my excitement. Breathing turns to panting and I lie back eagerly. I know where I'm staying tonight.
After awhile of rest, it occurs to me I actually have the opportunity to bathe. The pond water has to be better than nothing.
I walk hesitantly over to the edge, forcing myself to look at my clothes. All the sweat and dirt and grime have combined to turn the clean white into a gnarly brown. Grimacing at the sight, I bend to grab the end of the garment and lift it over my head. The underwear the vampires provided us isn't much better made, but was at least protected from the worst of the forest.
I try not to think of the past, staring down at my filthy body. But the flashes are too strong. The horror is too ingrained.
And I'm in The Shower all over again.
The Shower isn't like the Draining Room or the unnamed room. Its main purpose is actually pretty innocent: to keep us clean.
It is a place we've all been countless times. One big room, just like all of the places made for us, with showerheads covering the ceiling. We knew what days we were supposed to go, and the vampires would come for us when it was our turn. We'd be given a ten minute warning, during which we were supposed to strip. Most days we'd leave our clothes folded at the ends of our bunks to put back on afterwards, the exception being once every two weeks when we'd be given fresh gowns.
The vampires oversaw us, of course, and every now and again there were the truly sick monsters that would harass us or stare quietly in the most sickening of ways. But for the most part, showering was just a regular part of life at the mill. It wasn't something I dreaded, or something we discussed from underneath the cover of our sheets. It just was.
Until one slip changed everything.
It was one of the days we were supposed to get fresh clothes to wear. I remember the enthusiasm in the air; the anticipation over what was the highlight of our last two weeks. If it hadn't been for her excitement, she probably wouldn't have fallen. The girl who died that day in The Shower.
There were six girls between her and I. Six girls were the difference between life and death. It could have so easily been someone else. It could have so easily been me.
But for some reason it was her. The tall girl with the ginger colored hair whose number was too far away from mine for us to have ever met.
She was the girl who dropped her soap, and chased hurriedly after it while it slipped continuously out of her grasp. Who slipped herself on the slick, wet shower floor and landed knee-first on one of the drains.
I remember the huffing sound she made when she hit. And then I remember the growls.
One overseer after another plowing in after her. All fighting each other for the blood they could not smell, but they could see and most definitely taste.
The girl who was literally torn to shredded, red pieces by the monsters right before our eyes.
And the monsters who laughed when the game was all over.