Chapter 28
Carlisle sat tensely at the edge of his bed, glancing up the clock on the wall every couple of minutes. Esme sat next to him rubbing his back and Edward stood leaning against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.
"Were you guys like this when I left?" Edward asked them, finding just a small amount of humor in Carlisle's overly edgy posture.
"Worse," Esme told him, looking at Carlisle for a moment, "And for weeks."
"You know as well as any of us how it is when you have no control of your thirst," Carlisle told him.
"Why did you let her go?" he asked.
"I can't hold her here against her will."
"Why not?"
Carlisle sighed, "I can only give my advice. I can't force her to stay."
"She'll be back," Esme said.
"After how many people die…" His voice drifted off and he looked at the clock again as it closed in on one o'clock in the morning.
Edward shifted and looked at Esme for an extra-long couple of seconds.
"What?" Carlisle asked him.
Edward sighed and shook his head, "Nothing."
"Do you know something?" he asked.
There was a deafening silence that fell over them. Carlisle and Esme looked at Edward as he struggled to come up with the words for what he was hoping to tell them.
"It's been weighing on my conscience since I've returned," he said, looking down, "I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."
"What is it?" Esme asked him.
Edward shook his head again, "I know the feeling that Rosalie has, to an extent. And I think she has every right to do what she's doing to those men."
Carlisle and Esme said nothing, as they equally agreed and disagreed. Edward could sense this from their thoughts, though could see that Esme favored Rosalie's decisions just slightly more than Carlisle did.
"Esme," he went on, "When I was away…"
She stared intently at him as he paused, still struggling to get his message out. Carlisle, too, waited with great anticipation for what Edward would say.
"I love you like a mother, Esme," he went on, "I truly do. I thought time and time again about Charles and I saw how deeply he hurt you from your thoughts."
Esme's expression changed, and she suddenly felt moved by Edward's words. She also knew what he was getting at. There was a part of her that couldn't wait for him to say the sentence to follow. She wanted to hear that he had killed her abusive ex-husband, and the fact that she got satisfaction from the thought kind of scared her.
Carlisle glanced over at Esme as Edward stated what had been a weight on his shoulders for quite some time.
"When I left you both back in 1927," Edward said with a sigh, "My first stop was at his house." He turned his eyes to meet Esme's, "I'm sorry, Esme. I was so angry and I could practically feel what he did to you from how intense some of your thoughts were."
Carlisle shifted his eyes from Edward to Esme and back again. His words drew an emotional response from her, though there was not an ounce of sadness on her face.
"I'm sorry," he concluded, "I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to hate me for it."
Esme shook her head, "I don't hate you. I could never hate you, Edward." She took a deep breath.
"Are you mad?" he asked.
"No." She shook her head again, and then looked at Carlisle, who stared at her almost blankly. She put a hand on the side of his face and kissed him on the cheek.
He looked at her for another second before returning is attention to Edward.
"I'm sorry Carlisle," he told him, "It was an impulsive decision."
"It's okay," Esme told him again, then stood and walked across the room. She gave him a hug and did the same as she had to Carlisle, kissing him gently on the cheek. She turned to face Carlisle who had yet to say anything. "I'm not the least bit sad about his decision."
He folded his hands beneath his chin and rested his elbows on his knees where he sat. "Neither am I."
Edward could see that his father was conflicted regarding the situation. He hated violence and was completely against killing, though he felt that Charles deserved the fate Edward had given him, if not worse. There was also a small part of him that regretted not taking action himself, despite his beliefs. He felt that he should have done it for Esme for all the pain Charles had put her through.
Edward didn't comment at all, knowing Carlisle was being mentally pulled in all directions. It was something he was sure would play in his mind for some time, and for that he regretted speaking up about it.
"Thank for you telling me, Edward," Esme said, breaking the short bout of silence.
He nodded somewhat solemnly before she decided to change the subject back to Rosalie Hale.
"Should we have followed her?" she asked them.
"I would have tried to stop her from carrying on with her plan," Carlisle said, "And I know she truly wouldn't want me to."
"It seems like something that has to be done," Edward added. "If not, she'd be thinking about it all the time and would probably go ahead with it anyway eventually."
Carlisle continued to study Esme's expression regarding Edward's confession.
"I'm fine," she said again, seeing the lingering look of almost remorse in his eyes.
He gave her a half smile and looked down at the floor.
"Carlisle," Edward said, "I'm sorry." He shook his head slightly.
Carlisle looked back up at the clock, "I hope Rosalie's alright."
"I'm sure she is," Edward said, "I'm not so sure about Royce King."
…
Rosalie felt almost high from the blood that continued to pour down her throat. She'd done away with two of them, both drunk though just sober enough to be completely conscious to their painfully long and slow deaths.
She took in everything from the experience, especially delighted by the looks on their faces when she first met them in the alley. They'd looked at her in several ways, leading off with initial shock of her flawless nature and well-being. The looks were quickly followed by arrogance and cheap smiles as they looked at each other and approached her, thinking for just a moment that they could have a repeat of the experience that left her at the brink of death just a few nights before.
Rosalie had waited, drawn in by their overconfidence that quickly changed to fear when they got close enough to see her eyes. It was the blood, red eyes she now possessed that brought out the true horror on the men's faces. Rosalie continued to relive the experience.
That's it, she thought, come on.
A smile crossed her face and she almost laughed when the bolder of the two had smashed his half empty bottle of whiskey and charged in her direction with an arm raised. Before he had time to comprehend any of it, she'd snapped the limb in half, putting the man on his back.
Wails of pain and deep agony echoed off the empty building walls around them. He shrieked and wiggled on the ground helplessly like a fish out of the water.
The other man, at that time, had taken a cue and began to run, though with little success. He looked over his shoulder toward where she'd once stood, though turned around to see her blocking his exit route.
Panic decorated his facial expression and his mouth hung open as his eyes widened.
Rosalie grinned again, with an elegantly haunting smile. The man took a swing, closing his eyes with a scream as she grabbed his fist in midair, then clutched his neck with her free hand, bringing him off his feet and into the air.
"P-please," he gasped and choked, "Please don't. I'm sorry."
Rosalie's face hardened and she slammed him as hard as she could into the ground, ripping in throat out in the process until he lay motionless.
The thirst had completely taken over at that time. She wanted to make the other man suffer more, though she knew what lingered just below the surface of his body. Her hunger had completely trumped her need for revenge and she charged.
"No!" The man screamed from the ground, still holding onto his arm, which was twisted at an impossible angle.
Rosalie couldn't comprehend anything. It had all been a blur in her destruction of his body. Her mission disappeared as her eyes closed in ecstasy as the sweet sensation of human blood coated the linings of her throat and danced across her fangs and tongue.
Edward was right, she thought, thinking of his words about how difficult it would be to keep away from human blood after tasting it.
The high had died down and Rosalie looked at the carnage that lingered on the same street as where the two men and their counterparts, led be Royce, had attacked her earlier in the week.
I bet they never expected something like this, she thought, feeling somewhat accomplished. The thirst for blood had died down, though Rosalie knew that if some poor soul had walked by at that moment, they would certainly be the collateral damage that Esme had been concerned about.
I'll just have to get Royce another day, she thought, smiling as she did.
Rosalie looked down at the ring on her finger, and the necklace she still wore that he'd given to her. She slid each piece of jewelry off, ripping the chain from her neck and placed them in the hands of the two dead men on the streets. She knew Royce was no fool, and he would know deep down that she was responsible for the heinous acts that were done to his repulsive friends.
You have one more night, she thought to herself. Rosalie took joy in the fact that he would surely know that she, or someone, or something would be coming for him next. Like the men that night, she couldn't wait to see the fear in his eyes as she destroyed him in a far bloodier fashion than the rest of them.
The run home was therapeutic for Rosalie, though she began to feel what Edward had described. Despite how horrible the men were, there was a part of her that she knew was gone forever; her innocence. She had taken two human lives and felt no true remorse for the act itself. She also knew that it wouldn't be the end of her killing spree until Royce was dead.
I was Rochester's sweetheart two days ago. Now, I'm a red-eyed killing machine. Her thoughts were mixed with different emotions.
As she arrived home, she entered through the front door quietly and quickly made her way to the wash room to clean up and dispose of the fresh human blood that had already began to taunt her again. She suspected that it must have bothered the rest of them, at least to an extent, and so she shut the door and went about her business of cleaning up.
Carlisle, Esme and Edward stood silently, making their way into the living room to wait for her to join them. A half hour went by before Rosalie resurfaced and joined them.
There was a brief silence before Carlisle spoke.
"Are you okay?" he asked simply.
"Fine," she said back, just as easy-going. She felt all of their eyes on her. "I got two of them, but not Royce."
"I'm sorry for everything that you've had to go through," Carlisle told her sincerely, "And I don't blame you for feeling the way you do."
She nodded, and looked him in the eye for a moment before looking toward and Esme and Edward. "I'm going back tomorrow for him. I know I shouldn't but," she took a deep breath, "I have to before I can move on."
Carlisle nodded subtly. "Did anyone else-"
"No," Rosalie said immediately. She shook her head, "I didn't even see anyone else. I got out of there as soon as I was done."
Relief filled his face, and Esme, he could tell, felt the same way.
"Look," Rosalie went on, "I know you don't approve of my actions, and that's okay. But please don't try to talk me out of it, or try to stop me." There was sternness in her voice, though she shook a little as she spoke.
Carlisle raised his eyes to meet hers, "We won't."
"I'm sorry for all of this, Rosalie," Esme said, giving her a half smile.
She nodded and turned away, then headed down the dark hallway.
