Chapter 36: Daybreak

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for us.

I could recall feeling this way only once before in my life. A long time ago. Almost a year ago now, I supposed. It was so very long ago… When it happened I never believed it could again. And then it did. Someone else I loved dropped out of my life so quickly I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. It was so sudden, so random…hell right smack in the middle of heaven. No one could have seen it coming. Well, someone could have…but she wasn't here either.

The sheer weight of the sadness dragged us down into blackness so dark that none of us could see out of it enough to find even each other. We sat, unmoving, so close to one another and yet…those few feet seemed father than the widest ocean all of a sudden. Like no one wanted to look into another's eyes for fear of what they might see. Especially me. Memories were the last thing I wanted to see right now.

Edward didn't stray from my side as they night dragged on…slowly…but progressively. And eventually it did pass. Somehow. I don't know how. But it did. Edward was always there, touching me in one way or another. When I wasn't holding onto him, I was sitting, his hands on my shoulders, or I was lying in the pine needles on the forest floor, him stroking my hair lovingly, comfortingly. I begged God for the sweet salvation of sleep. Anything that could get me out of this. I wanted to be away from here. Far away. Somewhere where I could pretend none of this had happened. But as long as she wasn't here, there was no way to pretend. Unless I could hear her gentle, nurturing voice and see her beautiful, loving face, I simply had to believe it was true. The sheer absence threw the reality of the situation so close to my face that my vision was blocked from anything else in the world. The gravity of death was all I could see. All I could believe. And that hurt more than seeing the pain on my family's faces did.

Morning arrived. It didn't seem to care that it was sorely unwelcome. It showed up anyway. And as if that weren't enough, it had the nerve to show the sun, hanging clear and bright in a bluer sky than I had seen since we arrived in Alaska. There wasn't a cloud in sight. The brightness stung my eyes when I finally opened them. It seemed they had grown accustomed to the dark protection my eyelids provided while I tried – completely against all reason – to fall asleep. I didn't know why I did it. Perhaps to try to escape from it all. I couldn't be sure. But clearly, I had been unsuccessful. My mind didn't go anywhere except the exact location of my body. I felt as though I were imprisoned in a way. Ruthlessly trapped in an anguished existence. Unable to sleep. Unable to die.

When my eyes finally adjusted to blinding light that I hated so much, it didn't take me long to notice the missing element in the family…well, a third missing element. Five of us sat in exactly the positions I'd seen them in the night before. Only all much more subdued than they had been then and with one exception. I looked at Emmett, who sat now in the same position that Jasper had not too long ago: his massive back resting against the trunk of one of the big spruce trees that littered the soil here, one of his huge hands covering his eyes while his elbows rested on his knees.

"Emmett," I croaked, my voice so hoarse from the dry sobbing that had accumulated in my throat the night before that it was just barely recognizable, "where's Rosalie?"

He didn't look up. Didn't turn even slightly in my direction or move in any way in the least as he answered, his normally playful, booming voice dangerously low in response. "I don't know," was all he said in reply, his tone flat, not quite uncaring, but certainly far from enthusiastic as he spoke.

I stared at him for a long moment, his words not quite sinking in right away. At the moment it felt as though every little thing was happening in slow motion. Like I was stuck in one of those dreams where you were running; you needed so desperately to get away from something but you simply couldn't move your legs fast enough.

Finally though, I got to my feet. I felt I had to do something. Even if there was no point to me doing it. I needed a distraction. Any distraction. However small. Edward watched me go but didn't move from his seat on the ground as I left our little 'campsite' of sorts. I was going to find Rosalie. I wasn't sure why. I convinced myself that it was only a precaution to make sure she hadn't done anything stupid out of her grief while no one was watching.

I followed her trail down a steep hillside and to the water's edge. Her smell was easily enough followed. Almost effortlessly recognizable. I would know it anywhere. I would know any of their scents anywhere. They were my family now, after all.

When the trees thinned I spotted her on a tiny beach at the edge of a small lake…more like a pond, I supposed, judging by the size of it. The still, dark waters lapped quietly against the shoreline, just barely audible in the deafening silence of the surrounding mountains. I stopped when my shoes touched the edge of the sand as it mixed inconspicuously with the grass line. I stood there for a moment, watching her. Even from behind she was beautiful. Her blond hair twisted and fluttered bitterly in the wind as it caressed her pale shoulders, free, uncaring. She wasn't moving either. She stood like a stone statue, staring out across the lake with fixed, unblinking eyes.

I was still for a moment, uncertain. Did I dare speak? But before I could decide whether or not to do so, my lips parted without my consent. "Rosalie?"

She started, whirling around to face me with an alarmed expression tainting her beautiful features. When her honey-gold eyes fell upon me however, she released the breath that had seemingly caught in her throat and she relaxed, as though suddenly relieved as she took a step toward me, running one hand anxiously through the golden strands on her head. But she didn't smile.

"Oh," she murmured, lowering her eyes to the ground when she saw me. "It's just you."

I stared at her for a moment, my eyebrows raised. I hadn't thought it possible to surprise a vampire, but then, I was a vampire myself now. I could move much more quietly than I gave myself credit for. And she obviously wasn't in her right mind at the moment. "Who did you think it was?" I asked before I could stop myself, careless as to the implications of my question. At the moment I felt I had nothing more to lose. I was wrong of course. I still had everything to lose.

"I don't know," Rosalie bowed her blond head shamefully as she took another step toward me, looking unnaturally casual in her jeans and T-shirt against the spectacular background of the lake and mountains. "I thought maybe…" Her voice trailed off quietly and she shook her head, unwilling to shame herself with the notion. It seemed she was refusing to look at me as she stood there, one hand on her slender hip and the other in her hair as her golden eyes scanned the horizon behind me, searching for something.

I managed the tiniest smile, but it vanished in seconds, and never reached my eyes. "I'm going to miss her too," was all I could think of to say. I wondered momentarily if approaching the matter so straight-forwardly would upset my sister of sorts, and that concern wasn't helped in the least when anger flashed across Rosalie's ochre eyes at my words. It was only when she spoke again that I realized the frustration wasn't directed in the least toward me.

She turned her eyes on me suddenly, her jaw set tenaciously when she spoke again, her normally strong voice meek and tight in her throat. "How could she do this to us?" She demanded abruptly, her eyes shifting to the ground when my expression softened, devastated all over again by her words.

"Rosalie, she loved us," I reminded her gently, my voice tenderly careful as I replied. "All of us. You have to believe that."

"Then why did she have to go and get herself killed!?" She countered sharply, her voice shattering with emotion as she dropped to her knees in the sand, her head in her hands as she wept dryly. "Why did she have to be so stupid?"

"She was protecting us," I retorted before the words had even finished crossing her perfectly full lips. A hint of anger was itching at the edge of my voice as I spoke. As much as I understood Rosalie's pain – all of their pain – she couldn't possibly be so blind as to miss the good that had come out of it. "I should think you'd be grateful that she did it."

Still, Rosalie didn't look up at me from where she sat on the ground, but her breathing quieted again as she thought this over for a long moment. "I have nothing…to be grateful for," she said finally, dragging my spirits down another impossible notch with the agony that tainted her tone.

I sighed and glanced around, almost unable to bear any more of this conversation, but I felt as though it were my duty to relay the message Esme had revealed to me only the night before, not an hour before she was killed. The message that made this almost okay now. The message that everything happened for a reason. "Esme knew what she was doing," I promised Rosalie pointedly. "If she hadn't done what she did we might all be dead right now. But we're not. We're alive…and together. That has to count for something."

But Rosalie got to her feet suddenly now, revealing the dirtied knees of her jeans as she stood to face me, her expression intense and abrupt. "Tell that to Carlisle!" She cried suddenly, her voice startlingly angry still. "Did you see him last night?" She demanded, clearly desperate to make her case. "My father – the content, courageous, compassionate doctor – was dead on his feet!" She paused, turning away from me briefly to run both hands through her hair one more time before turning back to face me. "He's faced hardships that you can't even begin to imagine in his two lifetimes! He's been both emotionally and physically tortured for what he is and still, he's managed to stay positive somehow. He's been brilliant and kind to every person he's ever come across. Human or otherwise, but this time…" her voice broke again and finally, she went to pieces. "This is really going to kill him this time."

Dry, broken sobs caught in her throat and I felt I had only one choice at this. My own emotions were beginning to take a hit as well now and suddenly I couldn't talk anymore. Without thinking, I crossed the small distance to where Rosalie stood and embraced her so tightly I was afraid she just might tear me to shreds right then and there. But she didn't. Instead she sank into my touch. Resting her chin on my shoulder, I felt her body shake with the pressure of the lump in her throat that refused to rupture. She clung to me with startling force, constricting my lungs until there was nothing left to exhale. I didn't mind though. I let her do it. She was entitled to go to pieces for once. She didn't always have to be the fighter.

But then suddenly she was again. Tearing herself from my arms, she turned back to the lake. It was only then that I noticed how her white skin shimmered only too clearly in the bright and very abrupt sunlight today. Without the cover of the trees, we were both far too conspicuous in the broad daylight that dominated the sky. Glancing down at my own arm, I sighed as I noted what looked like millions of tiny diamonds sparkling in the pores of my pale skin, causing the sunlight to seem only brighter still as the glints hit my crimson eyes in an almost painful manner.

Strange, I thought as I looked at them. At first glance these things were all a human could see in the sun, but as for myself, it had taken me several minutes before I even noticed them. It was a painful sting of a reminder: we weren't human, no matter how much it felt like it at the moment.

I started as Rosalie snarled furiously, reaching down into the sand and drawing up a large, jagged-edged stone. It could just barely fit into her fist as she wound up her arm to a frightening extent and hurled the rock forward across the lake, crying out as though in physical pain as she did it. For a moment I was concerned as to where that rock might end up. I recalled the baseball game I had witnessed not too long ago and visibly cringed at the recollection that none of them had even had to wind up like that to pitch a ball twice or three times as far as a human ever could. Even from where I stood now, I was able to hear the crack as the rock collided with a large pine on the opposite side of the lake.

Panting – more out of rage than physical exhaustion, I supposed – Rosalie turned back to me again, and for the first time today I caught that old spark of fire behind her eyes. But this was different somehow than it normally was. Normally that fire sparked out of her own, natural tenacity, but today it sparked out of something else…pure, white-hot hatred.

"I'm going to kill them," she stated in a solemn voice barely above a whisper. I'd heard this from her before, but this time there was something far too…genuine about the vow. She truly meant it. "I'm going to find the dogs that did this…and I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill them all!" Her voice was escalating in volume and the rage in it was easily caught. She was angry.

I felt my false breathing quicken. I had to stop this before it really went to her head. I thought of Sam, Embry, Jared and Jacob…even Paul. And then I thought of Emily. I would never forget the dark trails that distorted her once beautiful features. I would never forget the look that I had witnessed when Sam greeted her. It was nothing short of true love. So sincere that it almost bested Edward and I. I remembered the wonder that rushed through me when I saw it. It was truly incredible. And then I thought of Rosalie's words. As much as I hated them all right now as well, hated them beyond what I thought were my own capacities, I couldn't let her think like that. I couldn't let that hate blind her from what was truly important.

"Rosalie," I began again, my voice more urgent as I spoke through the sadness, "I understand how you feel. Truly, I do." I forced myself to take a deep breath. "But did you ever think that maybe more fighting isn't the answer?" I asked, my voice suddenly wavering as I received a smoldering look from her.

"What?" It was more of an angry 'I'll give you a chance to pretend you didn't say that' than a question. It was clear no one had ever said anything to her against violence. She didn't understand my reasoning. Not by a long shot.

"Don't you think there's been enough killing for one century?" I demanded, suddenly feeling more confident as I spoke to her than I would have thought possible. My voice rang out clearly and strongly across the lake, only spurring me on as I struggled to make my case. "I mean, isn't that what got us into this whole mess in the first place?" I ignored the painful prick that stung the back of my mind at this question. Actually, a merciless voice inside of me said matter-of-factly, you are what got us into this whole mess. But I couldn't let myself think that way. Not after everything Esme had told me last night. Again, the agonizing sting of guilt.

But Rosalie didn't seem to be on the same brainwave. She was staring at the ground, silent for a long moment, thinking.

"Try to think of Esme, Rosalie," I pressed, pushing past the initial throb in my chest at the ring of her name. "I know it's hard, but try. What do you imagine she would say about all of this?"

Rosalie sighed, thoughtful. We both knew the answer to that question, but she verbalized it anyway. "She wouldn't want us to kill anyone over her." She stated knowingly, a miniscule smile playing on her lips as she said it. "Mom wouldn't want any of us to get hurt either."

I smiled too, despite myself. Rosalie had her mother dead-on. "Exactly," I replied, nodding once in satisfied confirmation, but Rosalie then looked back up at me, her liquid-gold eyes alight with that frightful fire again.

"But Mom's not here, is she?" She added, her voice pained as the anger found its way back in.

Any hoped I'd had of getting through to her were shattered in that moment. Rosalie was angry. They all were. Even I was, as much as I hated to admit it, and it seemed nothing was going to ease the pain that was infuriating us. No matter what I said I couldn't even truly convince myself that it was right. A part of me wanted to tear Paul to shreds. And the more I spoke to Rosalie, the more potent that part become. I knew it was him that had done it. Whether he had any help, I couldn't be sure. But I knew it was him that did it.

But there was another part of me – smaller, but very real – that wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. You never should have been born, that menacing voice inside my head promised me. You're the reason all of this was happening. I knew it was right. I knew there was nothing I could say or do to make the guilt factor go away. I should be the one who was dead, not Esme. Esme didn't deserve to die. She was sweet and caring and kind-hearted. What had she ever done to anyone to deserve this? All at once I felt like marching back towards that house and throwing myself at the mercy of the wolves. It would only be too easy. I didn't think Jacob would stop them if they wanted to kill me…

But then I remembered Esme's kind words the night before. "Bella," she'd said, "you can't go blaming yourself for everything that's happened. You are a sweet, smart, wonderful young woman and there isn't anything in the world I would trade for knowing you." I had to force myself to keep breathing as the memory entered my head. What a load of crap, I couldn't help but think; I bet you would have traded your life if you knew you were going to lose it.

But her voice somehow rang in my head again before I could stop it. I could hear it so clearly, as though she were standing right next to me. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bella," she'd assured me as she touched my face. "You have to believe that. You didn't ask for any of this. You fell in love and that was all you knew at the time. This isn't your fault."

And I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe her more than anything else in the world. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to. Suddenly I felt very self-conscious. I couldn't help but wonder if Rosalie was thinking the same thing. I recalled how she'd disliked me when I'd first met their family. Maybe disliked wasn't strong enough a word. Detested. Resented. Those seemed to work better as a description. And I remembered exactly why she had felt all of those things toward me as well. She'd thought I was destroying their family. She'd thought I was all wrong for her brother and that I – an outsider, a human – wasn't worth the trouble of knowing. Not that she detested humans, of course. It was quite the opposite. Edward had told me that she wished she was one, but the jealously was ridiculously insignificant in comparison to the resent she'd felt at the thought of how I was tearing their family apart. She'd blamed me.

And then, of course, she'd shocked me by coming round and when I'd gone to Italy to rescue Edward from the perilous hands of the Volturi, and then when I was changed I'd thought for certain that her attitude was permanently in my favor. And now this. I sighed inwardly. When had everything gotten so complicated? How had it gotten so complicated?

"I don't know what to say," I continued finally, training my eyes on a particular grain of sand at my feet. "I suppose 'I'm sorry' wouldn't quite cover it…"

Rosalie looked up at me abruptly now, her perfectly-shaped eyebrows knitting together in a perplexed expression. "What are you talking about?" She asked, all traces of kindness leaving her tone abruptly as she struggled to understand where my sudden apology had come from.

I sighed audibly this time, fighting to swallow the lump that was still swelling in my throat, blocking my airway. I supposed this was an ache I was going to have to get used to since I would never be able to relieve it, no matter how hard I tried. "This is all happening because of me," I moaned through a tightened voice. It felt like it hurt a thousand times more to say it out load. "You don't have to pretend that isn't what you're thinking."

Rosalie exhaled loudly and looked at me through narrowed eyes, tilting her blond head to one side as she gauged my expression. For a moment I felt as though she were looking past me instead of at me, like she was trying to see into my head somehow. "You know," she breathed finally, shaking her head twice in bewilderment, "sometimes I can't tell if you're really smart, or really…not."

I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

"Bella, do you seriously think we would have gone through all this in the first place if we didn't think you were worth it?" She shocked me by asking. "Trust me, you are not the reason any of this happened."

I felt my eyebrows lift higher still somehow. "I'm not?"

She looked at me seriously. "Don't flatter yourself," she teased. "You're not that interesting." She paused, examining my reaction for a moment before she continued. "Believe me, one human girl could never be enough for a vampire like Carlisle to pack up and move his family to Alaska. Yes, you were the catalyst for it, but that doesn't mean we had to do it. And I certainly never would have come along myself if I didn't want to."

I looked at her incredulously, a small smile playing on my lips for a moment despite myself. "Wow," I murmured as I stared at her. "Was that…almost a compliment?"

Rosalie smiled now too, but it never reached her eyes and disappeared quickly. Still, I could see the intent was there. Amusement danced in her sad eyes for the briefest of seconds. Finally, she placed one delicate hand on my shoulder, reminding me far too much of her mother all of a sudden. "Bella," she sighed, "trust me when I say that none of us blame you for any of this." She lowered her eyes suddenly, as though embarrassed as to what was about to come out of her mouth. "If you must know the truth," she began again, her voice quieter this time, "you've been…very good both to and for my brother. I've never seen him happier in my life…and I owe you for that." She paused, thoughtful. "Without you he never would have made it back from Italy, after all," she pressed on, saddened by the recollection. "We would have lost him forever."

"If it weren't for me, he never would have gone to Italy in the first place," I reminded her pointedly, recalling that awful day that didn't seem so long ago now.

"Well," she continued, relentlessly it seemed, "that was his own stupid fault, not yours. He never had to drag you in to our sick, twisted world. That was something he chose to do all on his own."

I sighed. "I suppose…" I could only let myself half-agree. I wasn't going to let the responsibility that was rightfully mine be pulled from my shoulders just like that. "Well, either way," I continued whole-heartedly, "I'm sorry."

Rosalie nodded, seemingly unable to say anything more for the moment. She turned her ochre eyes back to the lake, staring out over it blankly again for a long moment, as though still searching for something she knew she was never going to find. We both felt the wind as it caressed our skin softly, gently, as though with a loving, almost nurturing touch, whispering in our ear. For a second I could have sworn I heard her voice carried on it. Whether that had come from my own imagination or reality somehow, I would never know.

I heard Rosalie take a deep breath. "I just don't know what we're going to do without her," she stated finally, her voice breaking with the emotion in her words. She turned her eyes on me and I knew they would have been brimming with tears if they could. "I miss her so much."

I wasn't totally taken aback this time when she threw her arms around my neck, embracing me tightly to her as she fell apart for the second time today. "I know," I whispered in her ear over the broken sobs that followed. "I know. I miss her too…I don't think we'll ever stop missing her…" I felt my chest tighten and my own voice broke now as well. I clung to Rosalie suddenly, equaling the strength in which she was clutching me. It was strange, seeing Rosalie like this. So sad, frightened, vulnerable…nothing like her normal self. But then again, none of them were really their normal selves at a time like this. And I was happy just to hold her as long as she needed someone be vulnerable to. Maybe I needed someone to be vulnerable to as well. Maybe we all did…we stayed like that for a long time…the caring, motherly touch of the wind carrying a gentle whisper around us both.

When we arrived back at the campsite, Emmett was first to reach us. I handed his wife off to him, returning his tiny, but very grateful smile when he wrapped his huge arms around her shoulders, holding her to his chest meaningfully for a long moment. As I watched, he kissed her hair affectionately. "Bella, I'm sorry about earlier," he offered good-naturedly over the top of her head, although his voice was still very sad, heavy with grief. "I didn't mean to be so cold, it's just…"

I touched one of his immense arms and smiled slightly before he could finish. "I know." I returned, my own voice sympathetic.

But as I watched this loving exchange of comfort between my siblings-to-be, a warm, gentle arm encircled my waist and I looked down, only to follow it up to Edward's sweet, sad eyes as he stood next to me. I stared into them for a long moment, relishing the impossible amount of comfort that came with his hold before I embraced him as well, hugging him to me as I laid my ear over his chest, closing my eyes. "Oh, Edward," I breathed sorrowfully as I held onto him, knowing that I probably couldn't even come close to imagining what he must have been going through at the moment.

But the high, sturdy wall of shock had come down now, it seemed. As we were all able to speak to each other at least. Not quite feely yet, but we could communicate. Pulling back enough just to look up into Edward's face, I sighed deeply. "Are you okay?" I asked carefully, uncertain as to the appropriateness of this question. How could he possibly be okay? Still, it was the only thing that felt right enough to say at the moment.

Just as I suspected though, he shook his head, his beautiful features soft and tender with sadness as he looked down at me. "Not yet," he replied softly, his voice low.

I nodded in understanding and then looked down for a moment before raising my eyes back to his and shaking my head in agreement, one negating motion right after the other. "Me neither," I croaked, sniffing as my voice broke and Edward pulled me close to him again.

"I know." He pressed his lips gently to my forehead before pulling me completely against him, tucking the top of my head under his chin as he spoke. "I know."

As his right hand traced the ridges in my spine, I sniffed several more times, pressing my nose to the skin of his throat and inhaling as much of his staggering aroma as I could in the short time before we were interrupted.

"We have to go." Carlisle's serious voice.

Edward pulled away from me just enough to glance over at his father. "Go?" He repeated, clearly perplexed and even sounding a little angry at this suggestion. "Go where?"

"Back to the house." Carlisle's answering voice sounded flat, but his eyes housed a spark of determination.

Jasper sounded alarmed when he spoke next. "What?"

"My guess is, they're all still there," Carlisle continued sharply before the word had even left his son's mouth. His voice startled me now. He sounded…angry. "We'll have the advantage if we can trap in the house the same way they did us." Then his eyes hardened. "We're not running anymore."

Emmett raised his eyebrows, his expression both a little frightful and hopeful all at once. "Are we talking about fighting, here?" He demanded suddenly, some of his old self shining through again for the first time in his booming voice.

Carlisle looked at his son seriously and nodded, almost too eager to answer the question. "Yes," he replied firmly. "We are." The look that flickered across his normally kind, composed eyes frightened me then. It was wild and suddenly unpredictable, like the way Edward had looked when he'd rescued me that night in Port Angeles. Like he was beyond reason. Like he needed to kill something. Preferably the men who'd attacked me.

But this time it was Edward who stepped up to be the reasonable one. He took one tentative step toward his father and looked him squarely in the eye. "Carlisle," he began, his voice low and understanding, but at the same time practical, "let's be sensible about this. Please. Let's at least discuss it first before we…"

"There's nothing to discuss!" Carlisle countered abruptly, startling us all with the sudden escalation in his temper. All at once I missed the old Carlisle. The one I'd shaken hands with that day back in Forks. The one who'd calmly and kindly saved my life in Phoenix that spring. The one I'd spoken with at the kitchen table the night of my birthday while he gently stitched up my arm, never showing a single trace of a sign of losing control and even going as far as to grant me a kind smile while he did it. I remembered focusing on the goodness in his face instead of the steaming stench of blood and the soft plink of the glass shards as he carefully plucked them from my arm and dropped them on the kitchen table in front of him.

I missed the Carlisle that had grinned and openly welcomed me into his family with a happy smile when Edward and I had announced our engagement. The sincere generosity in his face. The genuine compassion and kindness that always radiated from him. But that Carlisle was gone now. Something told me he died with Esme.

"We're going back to the house right now," he continued in an enraged voice, "and we're going to end this! They are going to die like the dogs they are!"

"Carlisle!" My own scolding voice shocked me. All eyes turned in my direction. I hadn't meant to speak. The disappointment was meant to be expressed silently in my head. But for some reason it had crossed my lips. So I continued before anyone could stop me. "Carlisle, I know you're hurting," I sympathized quickly before changing tactics, "but declaring war on the Quileutes is only exactly what they want! Killing them isn't going to bring Esme back!"

His eyes were thunderous as they turned on me then. Saying her name had been a mistake.

"Are you with us, Bella, or not?" He demanded suddenly, completely ignoring my previous statement.

I glanced quickly over one shoulder at Edward for help, but he only shot me a bleak and apologetic expression. "Not you too!" I couldn't help but whine as I saw his face. But as I glanced around at the rest of my broken family, I was devastated to discover that they all looked to be thinking the same thing: the werewolves deserved to die and nothing was going to stop them from murdering every one of them.

Carlisle's voice startled me back to the matter at hand. "If you're not with us, you're against us." He pointed out darkly, his eyes flashing with black betrayal at the second part of that statement.

I had to think about this longer than I probably should have. I didn't like the idea of killing any one of them. I had been friends with them. Been invited into their home. Shared their food and warmth and hospitality. Could I kill one of them if it came to that? And what if another one of us got hurt? What about Jacob? He would be there. I had to be ready to tear him to shreds if I got the chance…

Finally though, I decided I was over thinking this. Jacob didn't care about me, so why should I care about him? If anything I should hate him for everything he'd done to me. It was as though he didn't remember any of the good times at all. None of it. And neither could I if I was going to go through with this.

Sighing, I nodded finally, defeated. "I'm with you," I murmured in a voice so low that it was a miracle any one of them heard it. This was my family now…for better or for worse. They had never abandoned me. So there was no reason I should abandon them. We were what we were. And there was nothing I could do about that.

"Good," Carlisle concluded finally, his face hardening again. "Let's go."