Chapter 6: Step Up to the Plate

I don't understand how physically I am in the garage with my blond sister beside me, who's doing her best to comfort me. But mentally, I am thousands of miles away, sitting in my silver Volo, parked out in the driveway of the small modest house, where I spent my nights. There I sit in my car, waiting on the girl with the heart shaped face as Radiohead plays on my car's CD player.

She's not my girl any more. Her heart no longer belongs to me, and it never will not ever again. So why can't I grasp that? Why can't I stop thinking about her?

My throat feels tight. My breathing picks up as venom tears welled up in my eyes, I hid my face in the soft pillow as I quietly dry sob.

'Oh, Eddie.' Rosalie's "voice" is very sad.

Sinking deep into the pillow and bringing my hands up to face, I don't say nothing. I tune out her thoughts of my family. As well as the coconference that's going on in the living room, between my parents and three siblings.

Rose rubs small circles on my back. "I never did care for your relationship with the human. You know that." She begins, in a profound tone. Of course I knew that, I don't respond. "But if she meant so much to you, why not pick up the phone? She's a teenager and so are you. Teens break up and get back together all the time. Maybe you and her can reconcile."

I turn my head so my face is laying sideways on the pillow. "No." The words come out in a growl.

She sighs. 'Just hear me out.' Her thoughts are directed at me. 'If you're hurting this much maybe she is too. You should just call her already.'

I see from her mind the intent she has of what she wants to say next. I don't want to hear it. Nothing anybody says can make me change my mind.

"I said no." I snap, speaking before she can say another word. "I want to be alone."

"Fine." Rosalie tries to hide her irritation. She doesn't like that I'm not listening to her.

She doesn't get it. No one does. There's not a soul in the world that understands what I'm going through. Why I had to part ways and will never contact her again.

Despite her irritation Rosalie pat's my back as she gets up. Without a word or a thought she walks to the garage door and enters the house.

Alone at last I breathe a sigh of relief. I close my eyes, trying with all my might to attempt to forget the world around me. I concentrate as hard as I can on the bubbling of the hot water heater and the sounds of the dryer. The noise is very soothing and so is the warmth.

Without warning there is a sudden gust of wind that is heard in the garage as the door opens once more. I hear the familiar footsteps and catch the comforting scent I have known since my first moment as a newborn vampire.

Though I do not bother picking my head up, that'll take too much energy that I don't feel I have. I know exactly who it is.

The door closes. The footsteps get closer and stop inches for me. Opening my eyes I can see the black shoes that are on his feet.

'He looks so frail.' Carlisle's "voice" is out of sorts.

Without a word I pick up my head a few centimeters off the pillow. My black eyes met my father's golden ones. Only for a second, then I dropped my head back down.

His lips curled into a sad frown. He crouches down beside me. His thoughts are full of concern, guilt and regret.

"Oh, my Little Lion Man. You really need to hunt." He leans down, his arms wrap around me in a tight embrace.

I do not reply or even move. I don't even bother to remind him not to use my nickname that I'm too old for. The one he gave me in my newborn days after he witnessed me take down a mountain lion for the first time. He claimed I was as graceful as a lion, therefore gave me the nickname Little Lion Man.

He has nicknames for all of my siblings; Kitten, Champ, Soldier Boy, Little One. My sister's are more keen on the nicknames that my brother's and I are.

My father's arms let go of me. The loss of contact makes me feel empty as he sits beside me. Though I do not express this out loud, he somehow seems to know. He wraps his arm around my shoulder.

The dryer stops and so soon the comforting heat will disappear.

Carlisle's hand pats my shoulder. "Shall we get up and go hunt?" He questions, hoping I'll take his offer. 'You mustn't give up. You can't lay down all day, Son. You must hunt and shower.'

It's obvious that he's going to put aside his gentlemanly behavior and step up to the plate to try to cox me out of my anguish/suicidal state of mind.

If only he had a way of knowing that I am not thirsty. I don't want to move. The only thing I want is to feel heat on my frozen skin while I lay in a fetal position. I do not want to stay away from the warmth, for heat reminds me of her. I miss her. The brown hair, brown eyes, the sunlight that she brought to my half-life. Will there be a time when I do not miss her? Will I always feel so empty.

"No." I sigh. I do not want to hunt.

Carlisle exhales. 'I know you're hurting, Son. But you must hunt.'

I shake my head giving him silent 'no'. I prefer to remain where I am. I wish everyone would stop trying to get me to get up and do something I do not wish to do.

I am silent and so is my father. There at the forefront of his mind he is trying to figure out how to convince me to get up and join him on a hunt. He finally comes to the conclusion that everyone else has, that I'm not going to give in. I will not go on my own free will.

With a sad sigh Carlisle stands up, his thoughts are blank. I assume he's going to walk out of the garage, back inside to the house to the rest of our family and explain I'm a loss cause. Leaving me alone to wallow in my sorrow while I lay with my head on a pillow, wishing I could sleep to escape my thoughts just for a little while.

Before I know what is happening I feel the blanket being removed from my body and hear him place it on top of the dryer. The next thing I know, my father leans down, placing his hands underneath me.

I feel myself being lifted off the ground and into my father's arms. He holds me to his chest as he begins to walk out of the garage. Well, this was unexpected. He's carrying me like I'm a small child. For all the love that is holy! Why?

I don't bother to ask what he is doing or where we are going. I do not feel like talking. Instead I use my extra hearing, trying to penetrate his mind. However, his thoughts offer me no clue to what this is about, but I think I have a hunch where we are headed. Though I don't really care. He can take me out but no one will be able to force me to do anything I do not wish to do.

'Smaller than his brothers and myself. Though nearly as tall as I am.' Carlisle thinks as he opens the door to the garage and he steps out.

I am completely silent.

I once was a man with dignity and grace, now I'm being carried out of the garage like an infant in my father's arms. I don't protest. I brought this on myself when I laid down in a fetal position. I should have known better.

Carlisle's thoughts turn into images of long ago. A time I really can't recall. The first and only time he held me like this as he removed me from the hospital bed where I would have died. Back then I was a sick and frail human that was on the brink of death. He held me protectively as we escaped out a window. Running with me on the rooftops to his house, deep into the woods where he saved me.

"You were a lot lighter back then and your hair bright red." Carlisle reflects on his memory, that he knows I have seen. His tone endearing as he walks out of the hallway. Holding me tight in his arms, he continues walking past the dining room. "You're still light to me, Little Lion Man."

Burying my face in his shirt I say absolutely nothing. There's no need to respond.

With my eyes closed, my body as limp as a wilting bundle of kale, my head against his chest, breathing in his scent, that's very comforting. I see from my mind's eye that my father and I are now flanked by my mother and Emmett.

Carlisle continues walking on the path between the kitchen and living room with my mother and brother beside him. Through the kitchen, heading to the sliding glass door. My guess is that we are going out.

I heard the sliding glass door open with a loud bang. I don't have to have my eyes open or follow anyone's mind, to know that Emmett is the one that slid the sliding glass door open a little too roughly. Three pairs of footsteps step onto the patio as someone gently slides the glass door closed.

Outside on the patio a breeze blows through my hair and fresh air fills up my nostrils.

Carlisle counties to hold me protectively as we begin to move. The sound of running feet rings through my ears.

Looks like we're going on a hunt. I don't bother protesting. I can already tell I'm going to lose if I do so.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Thanks for reading.

I hope you liked this chapter. I would be more than delighted to read your thoughts in the reviews. :))))