Alright, I know, HUGE delay, for which I'm dreadfully sorry. Writer's block is the worst. I actually struggled through the next two chapters, you'll see why soon enough... This chapter turned out very, VERY differently from what I had in mind. It's an experiment of sorts- please do give me honest opinions on the new POV. Hope this was worth the wait... enjoy!


Provocation

Before I knew it, two whole days had passed since I became a vampire. I had expected time to stretch out before me in uneventful vastness, but nothing of the sort happened. I found myself being involved and happy in every single moment.

While Edward and I had rambled in the woods, Carlisle had quickly made structural changes in the cabin, adding a wall inside to create a separate room for me to offer me some privacy. I thanked him gratefully. With Edward's mind-reading(through no fault of his own though, bless him), I could use all the privacy I got.

Edward and I went into the woods again the next day, while Carlisle returned to Ashland for the day, insisting he had some "loose ends to tie". His obvious avoidance hurt and confused me. I couldn't understand how he'd leave someone as inexperienced as Edward with me- the savage newborn.

In any case, I didn't ask too many questions. It was hard to stay mad at Carlisle, and Edward was happy with my company, so that was enough. Edward and I bonded quickly, my deep, passionate mothering instincts quickly accepting him. Edward was, in many ways, a serious young man, but it didn't mean he didn't have a mischievous side. Despite his rigorous altruistic nature, I quickly found out that he did have some ego- a healthy amount. He loved showing off and doing things that would delight other people, even for his own pride.

He took me to run for the first time, and I found it to be the most exhilarating experience ever. Never before had I felt such freedom, such power, such bliss course through me. I ran with happy, wild abandon, and Edward saw my happiness and was happy too. He would suddenly run ahead with huge bursts of speed, and more often than usual, I'd be left stunned. Then he'd entertain me, flitting between the trees like some bizarre, happy spectre making ridiculous faces and actions and all his performances would end with me clapping my hands enthusiastically. Edward was always pleased when I applauded him; he'd give me a quick, proud grin, and then become the epitome of modesty. He often teased me when I thought about Carlisle, but he always stayed in his limits so as to not hurt my feelings. He really was a sweet boy.

Even Carlisle commented on Edward's behaviour. "My, my, Edward, you've never given me a reason to think you mischievous. Where on earth did this come from?"-Carlisle asked, smiling. Edward had snatched Carlisle's hat and coat from his hands, hung them on the rack and returned to his chair with an innocent expression as soon as Carlisle had returned; he had done this so quickly that even Carlisle was momentarily stunned.

"Esme, of course," Edward said, grinning.

"Thank you, Esme," Carlisle muttered mock-sarcastically, and Edward chuckled.

"My pleasure," I giggled.

We talked about many things. Carlisle told me how he'd found Edward and changed him, and Edward told me how he'd tried to adapt. Though we talked easily, with general good humour, Carlisle and I remained strangely formal to each other, though both of us tried hard to speak more freely. Edward knew of our struggles with awkwardness, but of course, he didn't say a word, just grinned in that superior amused way of his. The conversation went on through most of the third day, when it finally it turned to a topic I had dreaded would come up.

"Well, enough about us, Esme," Carlisle said, leaning back in his chair after listening to Edward's detailed account of one of his hunts, "what about you? So much must have happened since I last saw you."

My smile slipped away, and I stared at my hands in my lap. I really didn't want to talk about my human life. Thankfully, I barely remembered parts of it, and was glad to know that I'd soon forget them entirely. Those last years after Carlisle left were not worth remembering. All the pain, all the torture, my baby Edmund… it was too much.

"Not much," I mumbled, noticing that they were still waiting for me to speak.

There was a pause. "You were married, weren't you?" Carlisle asked gently, though there was a slight discordant tone in his voice.

I simply nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Married. When Carlisle Cullen said the word, the whole ordeal came back to me in hazy clouded memories, turning more harshly real in my head. The silence was broken by a sudden sharp intake of breath. I looked up to see Edward staring at me with his eyes wide open with horror.

Oh dear.

"No!"-he hissed, his eyes suddenly narrowing, his face closing up with fury, an opposite of the expression on his face a second ago.

"What?"-Carlisle asked, confused and concerned.

I beseeched Edward with my eyes desperately to remain quiet.

He completely ignored my pleading look.

"Her husband."-he snarled.

"Edward…"-I murmured quietly. I didn't want Carlisle to know.

"What about him?"-Carlisle asked slowly. I turned to him with despair- Carlisle's voice was now hard.

"Edward, please," I mumbled again.

Carlisle turned to me. "What about him, Esme?"-Carlisle asked, his voice ominously grave.

"Nothing. I just… didn't have a happy marriage."-I said hastily.

Edward laughed then in harsh humourless barks.

"That, Esme, is the understatement of the century."-he muttered darkly.

Carlisle sighed. "Well, if you don't want to talk about it, we won't, Esme," he said, though he still sounded worried, concerned.

Then Edward stood up so suddenly that both me and Carlisle jumped. "For God's sake, Carlisle!"-he snapped. "Stop it! He was the monster, Carlisle- stop deeming yourself unworthy! And both of you- you are being so incredibly dense!" We were both frozen. My mind was reeling with shock- Carlisle Cullen thought himself unworthy? For me? The thought was laughable!

Edward was still fuming. "That man- that bastard-"

"Edward!"-the approbation burst forth from both mine and Carlisle's lips.

Edward turned a blazing face at Carlisle. In the sixteenth of a second, he was in front of Carlisle, his hands on Carlisle's shoulder, even as I jumped to my feet.

"Stop being so goddamned high and mighty!"-Edward said loudly, shaking Carlisle's shoulders. "You don't understand at all- he raped her!"

The silence after that statement was profound. None of us was even breathing. We were three frozen statues.

Then Carlisle spoke. "Esme."

Edward regained his energy. "She's been through hell, Carlisle. She already has. This is far from hell for her."

Carlisle didn't seem to have heard him. "Is this true?"-he asked me, looking at me with a strange, earnest blank look.

I looked into his deep gold eyes. I could already see the pain in them. But I couldn't deny him anything. Not even the truth, even as painful as it was.

"Yes," I murmured softly, as though to myself, but of course they both heard it clearly. Fresh memories of Charles Evenson passed through my head- the real monster, as Edward had put it.

We were frozen in our positions for a long minute- Edward staring earnestly at Carlisle, Carlisle gazing at me with a curious blank look, and I staring into Carlisle's eyes, feeling the gold wash over me, soothing me, driving away the images of my monster from my head.

Then Carlisle spoke. "Edward, outside."

And in a flash, they were both gone, leaving me very alone and very confused in the cabin.

Edward returned alone after a mere ten minutes. I had remained in the same frozen position in the middle of the room, feeling no fatigue, only worry and concern.

"Edward!"- I gasped, unfreezing. "Where is he?"

"He has an errand to run."-he said shortly.

"What errand?"-I asked.

"He's getting more furniture."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"When is he coming back?"-I asked fearfully. The unasked question reverberated in my head- what was he doing?

"I don't know." He answered both questions.

I didn't know why, but I felt sudden fear for Carlisle. Was he going to meet Charles? Though it was laughable to think a weak human bully was more dangerous than a vampire, the feeling of terror at the mere mention of Charles' name was deeply ingrained in me. I had some vague, fearful guilty feeling.

Guilty? Of course.

Carlisle had never killed a human. Never in two and a half centuries. Was I going to make him lose that strong sense of humanity in him?

"Stop worrying, Esme," Edward said softly, softer than I had expected him to be; all his rage seemed to have ebbed away by now. I turned to him fearfully.

"Don't worry," Edward said again, reassuringly this time.

I stared at Edward mutely while my mind was working frantically. I had to talk to Carlisle. Tell him it didn't matter. Tell him how unworthy I felt of him and he'd got it the wrong way round. Hoping that he didn't think any less of me because of how I'd given myself away to Charles. Edward snorted and opened his mouth to say something as I thought that, but I quelled him with a glare.

Then he left me alone to my turbulent thoughts, or atleast pretended to. I struggled for a long time to get my thoughts straight, to focus the worry in practical avenues and not let my imagination run wild. But somehow, through it all, the undercurrent of guilt, despair and worry flowed in my head. I resorted to talking to Edward to distract myself.

"How did you find me?"-I asked. He knew I meant him and Carlisle when I said 'you'.

Edward didn't answer immediately. He just stared at me for a moment as though measuring me up.

"He found you in the hospital."-Edward said finally.

I pondered over that for a moment.

"And how did he know where to find- well, my things?"

"He sent me, of course."

"Oh."- the thoughts in my mind were resembling the disturbed, flurrying wind in the eye of a storm. I felt nearly a dozen emotions simultaneously, I could think several thoughts with perfect clarity at the same time and my mind seemed to turn itself inside out. Vampiric thought processes were rather tiring, I realised- despite the fact that I didn't really feel actual exhaustion. Instead of buckling under this enormous mental upheaval, my body froze; my physical state the exact opposite of my mental state.

"Relax, Esme."- Edward said again calmly, his smooth voice cutting through the flustered activity in my head soothingly.

I grimaced, realising that Edward could hear and follow each thought that went through my head. As if having his own thoughts was not enough.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"It's not your fault," Edward reassured me.

"Tell me," I said suddenly, welcoming any form of distraction possible. "Tell me how you found me. How you found where I used to live, I mean."

Edward acquiesced immediately. And he told me.


The sound of the engine sounds too loud in the quiet dark square where the hospital entrance is situated. The feeling of exhilaration I had felt at being able to drive quickly wears off. Worry, determination, and, I have to admit, a little scepticism take its place.

I descend from the contraption a little awkwardly, a little consciously. This is the first time I am out in the human world, all on my own, masquerading as one of their own. I have always wondered how Carlisle does it. How he manages to fraternise amongst the prey so easily. Not just fraternise, but actually heal them. How he can stand just being in the same room as a warm body spilling and oozing our nectar, our essence of life. The very thought makes my throat burn a little more painfully. Like a monster rearing its head at the mention of murder.

I like to call it that- give the incessant thirst in my throat a name, as if for a separate entity. I know that entity is not me at all, and so it is separate, it is other. It is no less than a monster.

As I approach the front doors of the modest little hospital, I feel more and more apprehensive. I find myself praying: not anything religious, just praying to whichever Higher Being exists to make sure the blasted monster within me doesn't win tonight.

I take a deep breath, push open the door and step inside. My muscles react automatically- they lock themselves into tight immobility. The smell is so intense that it hits me like a wall. It is a complex medley of several types of blood- warm as well as congealed, sweetly pure as well as sickeningly overloaded with medicinal drugs… every sort of blood-related smell is in that building.

How on earth does Carlisle work here?

I stand in the entrance for a moment, hesitating to unlock my muscles and move into the feeding ground.

Then I steady myself. Keeping Carlisle's calm, encouraging face in my mind, and barely seeing the room in front of me, I walk up to the desk in the left side of the nearly empty room.

A nurse sits behind it, her elbow on the desk, chin in her hands snoring gently. The few dozing people in the chairs in the other side of the room seem to be just waiting for someone. There are no patients. It is a dull hour. In my head, I can only see snatches of vivid dreams from the sleeping people in the room, proving that none of them are awake.

I stop in front of the desk, wondering what to do. I can hardly believe myself. I spent seventeen years as a human, and was well-versed in social savoir-faire, thanks to my father. And now, after just two years of necessary isolation, I am at a loss at such a trivial social interchange. It is as if all the humane skills I knew were wiped away with my humanity.

"Miss?"-I hazard hesitatingly, my voice still very low and unsure. I try to take another quick breath, and realise, to my surprise, that I can bear the smell while I am thinking about what to say. Her blood is appealing, but not so much so that makes me want to kill her, then and there. I can control it by distracting myself. I realise with sudden joy that I can actually do this!

The nurse, wakes up with a start. She is a thin, bony-faced girl, with scraggy-looking blonde hair, and noticeably protruding front teeth. She stares at me stupidly with bleary eyes for a second, rubbing away the little bit of drool that has gathered at the corners of her mouth. Then her mouth drops open.

"Oh my Gawd!"-I hear her shrill voice in my head.

I tense immediately, worry and fear rising in equal quantities in my head. What's wrong? Do I not look human enough?- I ask myself frantically. I even stupidly run my tongue over my sharp teeth inside my mouth, getting a sudden silly fear that I probably have fangs peeking out of my lips.

"Look at him! My, my…"- her mental voice continues even as her mouth still hangs open stupidly in the air.

"Am I dreaming? Is he just the bee's knees or what?"- her thoughts go on ecstatically.

Ah. Of course. My physical beauty.

Relief floods through me, and I give her a small smile. "Sorry for disturbing you, but I have an errand to run for my brother." The lie slips in smoothly as I hear her mental comment about my resemblance to "Swell Dr. Cullen".

She continues to stare at me without saying a word, while her mind is just shrieking awed commentary on my appearance.

"And look at him all spiffy in his glad rags! Mercy me, what a family!"

"Er… Miss?" Her mental admirations are quickly irking me.

Her mouth closes shut with a snap of her teeth. "Yes," she hesitates, her thick voice cracking with sleep. "You are Dr. Cullen's brother?"

I smile a just a little wider, and nod. Best keep it as friendly as possible. "Yes, we are rather alike," I say over her loud "Gawd, whatta smile!" in my head.

"I'm sorry for coming at this unrespectable hour," I add, trying to sound like any polite normal human being.

"Right." She nods. I hear her heart beating more frantically. I can nearly hear the blood gushing abnormally fast through her veins. And unbidden, the venom flows into my mouth. I swallow quickly, take another quick breath and continue to distract myself- "Well, it is actually a question of paperwork."

She nods vigorously. "Right," she says again breezily.

"Well, he wants a report of the- let me see… Burns? Yes, the Burns case. Apparently he signed the PM report earlier this evening. He thinks there may be an anomaly."- my voice flows quickly, without hesitation. I feel slightly elated. This is working! I can actually fraternise with the prey! "I am a medical intern myself- which is why I'm the one here, doing all the field work. Future training, and all that," I say lightly, adding the chatter to sound even more mundane.

"Right."- the nurse says again, staring at me eagerly, as though to soak in every word I am saying. I'm sure she hasn't heard a single word.

"Miss?"

She starts and blinks, waking up from her reverie. I try not to think about the thoughts running in her head at the moment: me in a dreadful suit with her next to me in an offensively frilly white dress.

Good God.

"Yes. The Burns file. Of course. Erm, follow me."- she spews out all the words she can manage to utter, the vision of me and her in matrimonial garb still bright and lucid in her head.

I hesitate for just a moment as she opens the door leading to the interior of the hospital. I see the long, starched white corridor inside. Sudden, dim unhappy human memories flood my head, but they last for only a fraction of a moment. I use that momentary pause to take a deep, relatively purer breath in, and follow the awkward lanky girl into the dim white corridor.

I don't say a word as we are walking; the smell in the corridors is overpowering. It is taking every ounce of my concentration to distract myself from the burn- I concentrate instead on the mental prattle I hear, curious and repulsed at the same time. Dozens of minds are wishing they were dead instead of having to bear this pain; I hear mostly wordless panic, confusion and fear from the awake infants; and the same emotions, only with words, in the minds of the tired near and dear ones of the patients. It is interesting, to say the least, and I observe with some relief, that it is working- the burn is bearable.

I finally find myself outside a room with double doors, with no conscious thoughts heard from the inside. Dead people don't think.

"Well, here it is," the nurse says breezily, heartbeat still pounding madly. "The morgue."-she says, rather unnecessarily.

"Oh." I give the expected response- a slight shiver and a small grimace- like any normal human would react outside a morgue.

"It is rather frightening," she accedes as though divulging a secret. I can hear several gruesome but highly improbably supernatural tales in her head, planted there by some idiotic friends of hers.

I just smile at her and gesture towards the door.

She whips around and opens the door with a flourish, as though opening the gates of a palace.

"The morgue," she says again, emphasising on the palace scenario by sounding like a herald.

I walk in confidently, but the smell makes me nearly gag and lose every ounce of self-control at the same time.

The room is filled with the smell of blood- congealed, diseased blood. The sick rotten odour gives me the slight gag reflex, but the rest of my olfactory senses rejoice in the scent of my life-force.

Just one drag, the monster in me speaks to me suddenly. They're dead anyway. What difference does it make?

I close my eyes tightly, fighting to push the nasty voice away.

No.

"That table over there'd be the one you're looking for,"-the girl says behind me, cutting through my internal battle. I turn to her and see that she is pointing to a particular cadaver from the threshold; she seems reluctant to enter the morgue.

Leaving me alone, is she? Well, more the merrier.

"Thank you," I nod to her. "My pleasure," she says breathlessly, still ogling me as though I were juggling ten knives.

"You may leave, I can manage all right," I say off-handedly, smiling again, hiding the supreme irritation within me.

Her mouth pops open, and I can nearly hear the cogs in her head working overtime. "Right," she says stupidly, pauses for a moment to fully comprehend what is happening, then withdraws awkwardly. The doors swing shut behind her.

In a flash, I survey the room, and just as Carlisle had told me, I find the empty table in the far corner, with a white sheet draped over it unnaturally. I know there is no body on it.

In a second I have the chart at the foot of the bed in my hand, and I am poring through the few details on it.

The chart tells me the woman's name is unknown. No address is mentioned. I sigh softly. A dead end. But I note the fact that her body was found at the bottom of the cliffs outside town. Not much to go upon, but still, I have something. My job here is already done. I wait for a few moments, knowing that it is too soon for any human to be actually finished in three seconds.

After a minute, I can wait no longer, and I step outside the morgue, finding the nurse waiting for me. I smile at her again reassuringly, and say: "All done."

She nods jerkily. "Right," she says yet again and begins to lead me back to the entrance. Honestly, that must be the only word she knows. Her mind is still filled with many imaginary romantic scenarios involving me and her. I repress a shudder, and quicken my steps, not slowing down even at the main doors, trying to put an inaudible distance between me and her as soon as possible.

Almost an hour of tracking later, I finally procure an address. After I establish for sure that Esme went to those cliffs in a taxi, I get it from the taxi driver who had picked Esme up from outside her dwelling and dropped her off mere yards from the cliffs. The driver had not been too pleased to be woken up in the middle of the night, but some monetary lubrication helped loosen his tongue.

"Looked regular downcast to me. Sh'was holding this sleeping baby in her hands, didn't look at nothin' else all through. Paid over the rate, she did. Told me she didn't need no more money. If it weren't for the baby, I'd 'ave thought she was one o' them suicidic cases, 'ya know what I mean?"

As I drive towards the recently established neighbourhood where Esme stayed in her mortal lifetime, I find myself thinking about her, this mystery woman, the woman that caught Carlisle Cullen's eye after more than twenty decades of forced abstinence. I wonder again what kind of woman she is. For Carlisle Cullen is no ordinary man. Being a vampire is extraordinary enough, but being a vampire who has not killed a single human for nigh on three centuries is something of a legend. Even now, after two years of living with him, he awes me with his humility, his force of character, his compassion. Carlisle Cullen is as close to perfect there is. And he is in love with Esme Platt, a woman technically old enough to be his great-great-great-great-grandchild. What is it about her?

I have seen her face many times indeed- Carlisle has often thought about her without realising it is her. She is not an extraordinary beauty, though her features are certainly attractive, and her whole countenance immediately suggests something incredibly sweet and tender. In the one memory I glimpsed from Carlisle's mind, I have seen her at some party, looking irresistible in green, but acting seemingly no different from other women her age.

What is it about her?

And close on the heels of that thought comes the unavoidable question- will I ever feel like that for someone else? Though I have to admit I am jealous- it is not the jealousy that Carlisle fears. It is jealousy at beholding Carlisle finally finding his soulmate, for I am certain that is what she is. His soulmate. And some small nagging voice in my head tells me that I will never find mine, for the simple reason that I don't deserve it. I can never do as much good as Carlisle Cullen has done, I can never be as worthy as him. Needless to say, the thought bothers me more than I let on to Carlisle.

Before I realise it, I have passed the house in the address. Swearing lightly, I stop the car at the end of the street, then walk back briskly, but in human speed, in case anyone has heard the sound of the engine and is looking out their window.

I ring the bell at the required doorstep, feeling nervous all over again. Everything has occurred smoothly up until now; I find myself hoping that my luck stays through the night.

After a minute of silence, I hear angry shuffling footsteps from inside. I hear a deep female voice mumbling unintelligibly- I can tell that she is cursing me, the nocturnal disturbance.

The door creaks open in a fast sweep, and I find myself under the angry scrutiny of a stout old dark-skinned woman.

"Yes?"-she asks me insolently. I take a quick deep breath and find that I can still bear the smell of her blood.

"Pardon me," I say, adopting my most polite tone, "but is this where er, Esme stays?"

All the hostility on the woman's face seeps away, and she bursts out with genuine concern, "Why, yes, sir! Mrs. Reed does stay here- oh, you have news? Where is she, poor child?"

Any surprise or awe on her part at my appearance is concealed, and I read several truthful worrying thoughts from her head. This cranky old woman is, I realise, a good soul.

Before I can answer her, I hear two sets of sharp hurried footsteps from inside the house. Two women burst into the small foyer behind the old woman. "Get inside, Patty!"-the older of the newcomers orders sharply, and the old woman immediately shuffles away, casting curious concerned glances at me over her shoulder.

"May I help you?"-the same formidable older woman asks. In her mind I read quickly that she is no relative of Esme's. This is, in fact, a boarding house. So I take the plunge and tell her the most convincing lie I can manage.

"Yes, my name is Edward Platt. Esme Reed is… was my sister."

The woman behind her- a pale, washed out woman with fair hair gasps. "Where is she?"-she asks fearfully.

I bend my head. The lump in my throat is genuine. Being the bearer of bad news has to be the most unpleasant thing.. "I'm afraid… my sister is dead."

The pale haired woman lets out a cry. Even the disciplinarian in front of me emits a sharp ejaculation.

"Good God!"-she says. "Do come in, Mr. Platt." I enter the house sombrely, even as the thin pale woman bursts into tears. From somewhere within the house, I can hear the kind old woman, Patty, bawling unrestrainedly.

The strict woman leads me to the sitting room, where I sit on an overly soft sofa. The other woman remains in the foyer from where I can still hear her crying silently.

"My name is Mrs. Hall," the strict woman tells me, "and I am the proprietress of this house. Mrs. Reed was staying here since the past three months. This evening she walked out of the house suddenly and- well, never came back. What happened to her?"

"She- er, fell off the cliffs."

Mrs. Hall closes her eyes and shakes her head silently.

"I- I come directly from the hospital. Identified the body."-the nervousness in my voice comes out like hesitation and pain. Inwardly, I am astonished that I can be such a good actor. Carlisle had been right. It is easy to play a part in front of humans. They are so gullible, so trusting.

"Of course. So horrible," Mrs. Hall says solemnly, while in her head, I hear, "Hadn't even paid this month's lodging yet!" The uncharitable thought astounds and infuriates me- are people really so mercenary?

The pale woman strides into the room, cheeks still wet, and demands suddenly, "The baby? Where's the baby? Where's Edmund?"

I dip my head again, choosing not to answer. My silence affects them exactly the way I want it to.

"Oh, no," the woman, whose name I learn from Mrs. Hall's unthankful head is Laura Bosner, sinks into a chair and cries afresh.

I remain silent for a few minutes, quietly listening to every thought blossoming in the household. I ascertain that two other women are upstairs sleeping, that Patty liked Esme very much, that Mrs. Hall is already feeling the effects of my vampiric honey-trap looks, and that Laura Bosner, despite being very, very sorry for Esme's death, is in part gloating with the fact that someone else had had to suffer through much worse than her. Sadists, the whole lot of them, I think angrily.

I suddenly find myself tired of playing this pretend game. Any moment I feel I will burst, and then I will tell off Laura Bosner for each of her self-preening thoughts, and show Mrs. Hall exactly what my hands are capable of.

"If you don't mind, Mrs. Hall, I'd like to collect Esme's belongings now," I say slowly, keeping the melancholy tone in my voice with an effort, and gazing at her with a controlled look.

Mrs. Hall's heartbeat hitches, and quickens. I feel another stab of anger at her thoughts and her reaction. "I am young enough to be your grandson!"-I feel like yelling at her.

"Of course… this way."-Mrs. Hall purrs and leads me upstairs in a deliberately graceful manner. My face remains a frozen expressionless mask. Instead of seeing it as a sign of anger, which it actually is, Mrs. Hall takes in my expression thoughtfully and thinks, "Devastated by her death, the poor boy!"

I feel like running my fist through the wall.

"Here we are,"-Mrs. Hall announces, and I am suddenly reminded of the irritating nurse at the hospital. That two women of such disparate personalities should be so alike amazes me. Mrs. Hall unlocks the door and pushes it open for me. I step inside without looking at her and try to ignore her excitement at our proximity.

The room is small, dark, and musty, with the window letting in some light from a streetlamp. Most of the area is occupied by a bed. The rest of the floor space is occupied by a sparse rug, a very plain dresser, a recessed closet next to the door, and a cradle squeezed in next to the bed. It is a sad, lonely room. I stand by the window and look around for Mrs. Hall's benefit, waiting for her to leave. She doesn't budge.

Letting out a quick angry breath of air, I say quietly, "I'd like to stay alone, if I may, Mrs. Hall." And without waiting for her reply, I shut the door in her face. I wait for a second, then sigh. She is still outside, waiting.

I turn to the bed, and find the trunk underneath. I open it to find that Esme had barely unpacked during her stay here. Good. I quickly collect the few things that were outside- some framed photographs, some clothes from the closet, a pair of shoes…

Ten minutes later, I wrench open the door and tell an eagerly waiting Mrs. Hall, "I shall take this with me immediately- there is an early morning express I can catch. If you don't mind, Mrs. Hall, could you please send a telegram to my parents in Columbus? They don't know yet, and… I don't want to be the one to tell them." I nearly spit out all the words in my hurry to leave. The oppressiveness of the situation is increasing, and I can't wait for the quiet solitude of the forests, where the only mind to worry me will be Carlisle's and that is infinitely more bearable than all this pettiness.

"Of course," Mrs. Hall says, startled with my abruptness. Despite my hurry to leave, I scan her mind anxiously to make sure she believes me. I find myself satisfied- she believes every word I say. Gullible fools.

I lift the trunk effortlessly and stalk away to the stairs, trying my best to ignore the "What strong arms!" screaming from her head.

I scowl as I reach the ground floor, when Laura Bosner comes in to the foyer and sees me.

And then it happens all over again. She gasps audibly, her heartbeat stutters, and then speeds up.

Blast it.

I have to leave, now. I place the trunk on the floor, extract a piece of paper from my pocket, and scribble the address in Columbus that Carlisle had given me.

"This is where my parents live," I tell a flustered Mrs. Hall, who has rushed down the stairs behind me. "Please don't forget- send them the telegram." I give her the note, along with some money.

"These are for the expenses," I say hurriedly, when Mrs. Hall begins to protest. "Please. For the telegram, for the boarding fees… for everything. Thank you."

Mrs. Hall looks like she has discovered Eldorado. I hear her think that "this may be true love".

Not trusting myself to say another word, I nod jerkily, wrench open the front door, and rush outside as fast as is believable.

After an appropriate distance, I abandon all pretence and run to the car. Even in that short span of time, I feel exhilarated. Resisting the urge to leave the car there and run all the way home, I slide into the driver's seat, and start the engine.

Humans, I growl to myself.


I found myself smiling as Edward finished, despite the fact that I found out that no one in Ashland had really cared for me, except perhaps dear old Patty. Edward fell silent as soon as he finished talking; he only sat and scrutinized me, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you," I told him. He smiled in acknowledgement. I had needed the distraction.

But soon the worry began to gnaw at my insides again, and I turned back to the window, watching for Carlisle. This time, Edward didn't say anything- he could obviously see that my mind was not in turmoil anymore and that I could take care of myself.

We didn't say a word for the rest of the evening. I remained frozen at the window, gazing outside into the forest, my enhanced vision making everything perfectly visible, waiting for him. Edward sat by the fire, pretending to read, but I knew he wasn't- I hadn't heard him turn a page since more than an hour.

Then I heard him turn the page.

I sighed theatrically. Edward laughed. I turned around to him, smiled at him, then turned back to the window, my heart lighter, but still impatiently awaiting my golden angel's return.

I waited for 14,523 seconds. Then I saw it.

A flash of gold, far, far away between the trees. I didn't wait any longer. I flitted outside in a flash, stopping just outside the door. There, on the very edge of the little clearing in which the cabin was situated, stood Carlisle Cullen. Both of us stood frozen for a long moment, gazing solemnly into each other's eyes. Then, with a slow, precise, sweeping movement he held out his hand, still staring solemnly.

I didn't hesitate. I flew to his side and took his hand. And never let go.