Big thanks to Fran and Mr G and Me for all of their help! (The mistakes are mine.) Also, HUGE thanks to everyone who reads and reviews! You're all amazing!
There was some confusion in the last chapter, so I thought I'd try to clear it up. A few of you asked why Alice didn't see Royce attacking; in a previous chapter, Alice said she couldn't see anything when Bella was around/involved in something, so with Bella there, she couldn't see anything. (Kind of like when the wolves are around.) As for Edward, he *did* hear someone's thoughts about attacking someone, but with the multitude of people around, it was difficult to pinpoint. (Plus, with Royce's drug use, his thoughts were sporadic/jumbled.) He thought he had figured out with the woman because he didn't factor in Royce escaping.
I hope that makes sense. :/
Now ... onto the chapter. Fran really liked this one. :)
And just one more little note ... I'm not in the medical field, so everything medical-related is what I could find online. I apologize if I get anything wrong.
SM owns everything Twilight. I just borrow them.
Nothing but darkness surrounds me.
At times, there's static peacefulness encasing me like a bubble, drifting me further through a void toward complete nothingness.
I reach for that space, for that lapse of unfeeling bliss, because when I'm not there, there's nothing but pain and chaos.
Voices shout and argue around me with vicious growls and a slur of curses that vibrate throughout my aching body, making the pain intensify all the more.
These are voices I know, but it makes it completely difficult to place a face and name with the tone through the haze of pain.
It's difficult to try and think; to piece together who's saying what, because every so often, I'm jostled, and the flares of pain intensify tenfold. It gets to be so bad that I cry out, pleading with whoever's listening to stop because there's only so much I can take.
As soon as I do, the voices grow quiet, and movement around me stills. In the silence, I feel myself slipping under once more, lulled by the comforting numbness.
"No, Bella!" A voice urges, cracking as if they're in pain. "Don't close your eyes, all right? I'll make you regret it if you do."
"What are we going to do?" Another voice chimes in, softer but high-pitched in panic and fear. "We … we have to help her! She's losing too much blood! We have to get her to a doctor!"
"She won't make it," the first voice says, and at the same time, I feel another pain surge through my body as fingers dig into my flesh, pushing me tighter against a stone-like body. "Her heart is too slow as it is. Even if she did manage to survive the journey to Carlisle, there's no guarantee she'll survive the surgery. Her injuries are too severe; she's bleeding internally. She needs help now."
"Exactly! Let's get going!"
There's a chorus of murmurs agreeing with this sentiment … or maybe it's just one.
"I've called Carlisle," a soft musical voice chimes in, every syllable shaking and cracking. "He's meeting us at the hospital in PA, but we need to leave. Now."
"What about the police?" Another voice says, the same tone of fear laced in their words. "The person that hit her—"
"He'll be taken care of," the first voice cuts in, his tone hard. "If it's the last thing I do, he will die tonight."
"Edward—"
"Back off, Alice! I'll deal with Royce … and Emmett later. I have more important matters now."
There's an outcry of that bastard's name, followed by an endless array of questions.
"Royce? What?"
"How?! He's in jail!"
"Shut up!"
I wish I could open my eyes and keep them open for longer than a few seconds at a time. I want to see what's going on around me, but whenever I try, the world around me spins into a dizzying array of colors.
No, keeping them closed is better.
The numbness is better.
I just wish everyone would shut up so I could get there.
"I need to get somewhere private," the same velvety smooth voice says, his tone lone and whisper-like. "Then, we'll travel to Alaska."
"Why? Carlisle is in Port Angeles … You're not—you're not thinking of turning her, are you?" This voice is soft but not as musical as the one just spoke.
The question sparks my interest, bringing me further away from the numbness and into the realm of pain thundering throughout me.
I wish I knew who was speaking right now; I can see her face in my mind, mixed with yellows and blues. I know her; I know I'm close to her, but her name is failing me right now.
"She'll survive. She'll be here, and she's my mate. I'll do what I think is best."
"No! You can't!"
"Would you rather she die, Rosalie?" the voice nearest to me snaps, a low growl erupting from his chest.
"Of course not, but you can't make this decision for her! You can't take away her choice, you chauvinist pig!"
"How am I being a chauvinist? This is the best option. She'll die, Rosalie. Do you and Jasper want that? Do your parents want that? My way, she'll survive. She'll be fine. She won't succumb to illness or injury or aging; your way, keeping her like this, she's more prone to death than ever before. Do you want that for her? For yourselves?"
A soft cry of frustration and pain is choked out with a shuddering breath. "No. You're a bastard; you know that? You just don't want to lose her—"
"Of course I don't!" He thunders, his fury shaking out of him and into me. "She's everything to me, Rosalie. And I won't lose her; not when I know a sure way to save her. I'll turn her tonight."
"But Bella deserves to make that decision. Get your ass in gear and get her to the hospital. Emmett, go with him and make sure he doesn't do anything other than that."
"Rosalie, I don't think—"
"I don't want to hear it," she replies, her tone cold and indifferent. "You … I don't hate you for protecting me, but you didn't have to leave her there."
Her voice cracks at the end, her words turning into a choking sob. In my head, I can see her clearly; long blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes that seemingly glow at times.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, remorse saturating every word.
After a long moment of silence and sniffling, she speaks again. "Let's not discuss this now. Bella needs help. She needs Carlisle."
There's nothing but silence once more, and suddenly, I feel the wind whipping past me. It feels as if a thousand tiny needles are being pushed into my body, ever so slowly.
I groan lowly, unable to find the energy to scream like I want to.
"It's okay, baby," he breathes in my ear, his lips gently brushing over the top of my cheek. His breathing stutters, and if I knew it wasn't possible, I'd swear he's holding back a sob. "Her heart is too slow," the same voice mutters. The same voice that hasn't left my side since I was hurt—the same voice that's angry and beautiful and terrified all at once. The same voice I know belongs to someone I love.
Copper hair in disarray and golden, honey-colored eyes, painted across a pale pallor, fill my mind.
Edward.
It's Edward who's holding me. It's Edward who wants to change me.
"She's bleeding too much. I need to—"
"You need to get her to Carlisle. I agree, it doesn't look good, but Rosalie is right; she deserves to make that choice for herself."
Viciously, Edward growls. "I don't need your opinion, Emmett. If you hadn't been focused on your mate, she wouldn't be bleeding to death right now!"
"I'm sorry! I didn't think—"
"No, you didn't," Edward snarls. "It wasn't just your mate's life on the line. It was Alice's and mine."
"I know."
"Do you? Because instead of looking at everyone else, you only looked at Rosalie!"
Emmett, the big burly guy with dimples in his cheeks, scoffs. "Like you would have been any different."
"I would have pulled them both out of the way because I know how important she is to you."
There's another beat of silence. "I thought you were behind me," Emmett admits shamefully. "I thought you would have caught her."
"I was. But I wasn't fast enough."
Pain radiates throughout me again, and I release another low groan, wishing I could just disappear into the nothingness again. It's resting on the edge of my subconscious, waiting to beckon me forward and embrace me.
"No, Bella! Stay awake, okay?" Edward urges.
"Fuck off," I mumble, hoping it came through loud and clear.
Based on his relieved laughter and Emmett's, I think it did.
"I think she'll be okay," Emmett remarks.
"I don't know. She's losing too much blood; her heart is too slow. It's getting slower by the minute."
"What happened?!" A familiar voice snarls. "Give her to me. Right. Now."
The wind and the subsequent pain halts, encasing everything in silence for the moment.
"Mrs. Swan … Renee," Edward starts cautiously. "We need to get Bella to my father. She's not in good shape."
"I can see," she lowly says, her voice gritty and angry. "What happened?"
"Royce. He ran her over; I tried to pull her out of the way, but I couldn't. I would have dislocated her shoulder … or worse."
Suddenly, something flashes in my head.
I remember the car speeding toward me; I remember the Cullens shouting and growling, realizing that the car was headed for us. I recall seeing all three of them race toward us, knowing we couldn't move out of the way in time.
Jasper had dove away from the path of the car, and Emmett and Edward had been neck in neck, their arms outstretched toward us. Alice had been on their heels, her face etched in horror.
Emmett had reached us first, grabbing Rose and holding her close to his front. The action had caused me to stumble because we were standing so close. I had fallen forward, in the direct path of the car.
I remember feeling Edward's hand pull on my arm in an effort to get me out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough. The car had hit my side, and Edward had let go because, as he said, with his strength, he would have dislocated my shoulder or taken it clean off.
I want to tell Edward it's not his fault, and it's really not Emmett's either; when the person you care about is in danger, you're only thought is to get them out of harm's way as quickly as you can.
"That's quite different from what Rosalie and Jasper told me."
I can't let this go on without speaking up; I don't blame anyone but Royce for this mess, and I intend to tell her so.
Opening my eyes, I rapidly blink against the dizzying swirl of colors and faces around me. Directly in front of me stands my mother, her face screwed up in anger, her upper lip curled in a snarl, and her eyes glaring daggers at someone from my right.
Emmett, most likely…
"Mom—"
As soon as I start, I stop.
Nausea overtakes me, and I vomit all over myself, grunting in frustration and embarrassment.
"Bella," Mom cries, reaching for me, but pauses as Edward releases a low, growl.
"Sorry," he mutters shortly after. "I … I can't help it."
"I … understand," she says, though she sounds anything but. "Give her to me, Edward."
Once more, he growls, his arms tensing underneath me. I cry out as the action causes pain to slice through me. Edward hisses a curse while my mother snarls.
"Now, Edward. Give her to me. I'm her mother."
"I … can't," he grits out.
"You will, or I'll make you."
"I need to get her to Carlisle, Renee. Otherwise, neither one of us can help her."
"Why are you bothering with taking her there? Her heart is too slow … and her blood—" she pauses, and hefty, tense silence follows.
Edward stiffens, and through drowsy eyes, I notice he's watching my mother worriedly. Peering over, I notice it's with good reason; she's watching me carefully and closely … hungrily. I recognize the expression easily, because she used to look at my father's chocolate fudge cake the same way before she was turned.
"She's lost too much blood!" My mother continues, snapping out of her trance. "That's not good."
"I know; I wanted to change her, but I was told it should be Bella's decision."
"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," I mutter, though I'm not sure anyone can hear me because no one acknowledges my words.
"I'm her mother, Edward. I can make that decision for her."
Frustrated, Edward sighs, placing a hand over my head, cradling me tighter to his chest. "Close your eyes, babe," he softly tells me. "I'm not discussing this anymore until I can hear it from her lips. I'm taking her to my father."
I do as instructed because I can't stand the kaleidoscope of colors anymore.
Within a second of doing so, I feel wind whistle in my ears. Pain returns and the enticing call of numbness is there again, beckoning me forward, stronger than ever.
"Edward Anthony!" My mother bellows from behind us.
Edward's feet falter, but he doesn't stop running. I snicker because even though she's not his mother, she has the mom tone with him down perfectly.
"If it were my choice, she would have been bitten already! She would have been turned the moment I knew she was my mate! She deserves— "he stops, and thanks to my proximity, I can hear him heavily swallow. "She deserves to do what she wants. You wanted to get drunk, remember?" He whispers this to me, his cool breath fanning over the shell of my ear. "I'm both dreading and looking forward to that moment," he confesses with a short laugh.
I want to laugh as well, but the pain is getting to be much for me. With one last, shallow shaky breath, I allow myself to give in to the numbness, hoping the next time I'm awake, the pain will be long gone.
8*8*8*8*8*
Strangely enough, the next time I open my eyes, I'm in a warm, cozy room. There are pieces of black furniture outlined in silver chrome. There's are soft, velvet-looking blankets in a deep violet color draped on the back of chairs.
The walls are a rich, midnight blue with cherry wood beams across the ceiling and floorboards; it's very dark and gothic-like, and it would remind me of a Victorian castle if it weren't for the crème-colored carpet on the floor.
A roaring fire crackles in the stone fireplace, hissing, and popping as the logs within shift. It emits a soft, warm orange glow, the flickering flames casting eerie shadows along the walls.
Despite the warmth of the room, I shiver as I look around, wondering where the hell I am and what's happening to me.
Tentatively, I step forward, looking for any clue as to where I am. A single photograph catches my eye and makes my breathing hitch.
It's of Edward and me; I'm leaning against his front, his arms wrapped around me, his head resting against mine, his chin on my shoulder. We're both sporting soft, serene smiles, though his is his usual cocky smirk I've grown accustomed to.
The expression on my face is pure happiness and contentment, as well as my usual bitch-face, coupled with a defiant gleam in my eye.
However, the most startling thing in the photo isn't the fact that I've never seen this picture before; it's the fact that my eyes are no longer a deep, dark brown, but instead a glittering red.
Swallowing thickly, I step away from the picture and immediately jump as I hear a door slam from within the structure. Seconds later, another door can be heard opening and closing just as harshly.
"Why do you have to do that to me?" Edward bellows, a hint of amused frustration in his words.
"Because you're so easy to rile up," a light, musical voice replies. "Besides, you weren't moving fast enough."
"It's vampire etiquette that you don't take another's meal. You're lucky I didn't attack you!"
With a shock, I jerk back as two figures walk in; it's me, with Edward trailing behind. Like his skin, mine is pale and translucent, complimenting my dark hair and dark pink lips. Surprised, I watch myself walk just as quickly and gracefully as he does—just as I've seen my mother and the Cullens do.
Shaking my head, I wonder what happened to me—am I visiting the future?
Dreaming?
Dead?
Completely bat-shit insane?
All are likely possibilities.
"… Like you could," I see myself snort with an eye roll. "In case you haven't noticed," this other me continues, waving a hand up and down her body. "I'm stronger than you are at the moment … and probably forever. Who knows?"
Looking closer, I see this version of me has amber eyes, with a hint of crimson around the edges. "You're always raving about them, and you didn't attack right away; I thought you were letting me try them."
"I was building myself up for the attack!"
Again, this version of me rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath.
If this is truly me, I know what I'm saying.
What a big baby.
"Just calm down, all right? I won't do it again."
Edward huffs, shaking his head with an annoyed frown. "You're such a pain in the ass."
"Yeah, I am. And you are certifiably insane! And a big baby to boot!"
"Oh, really?" Edward seethes, stalking up to this other me.
Fascinated, I watch as he backs her into a corner, his eyes blazing with irritation and barely contained lust. Unsurprisingly, this other me matches his look with one of her own, glaring up at him through dark, narrowed eyes.
"How do you figure that, Bella?"
"I'm a vampire, aren't I? That's by your doing—yours and my mother's. You wanted me to stick around and live with you, away from my family and yours … that makes you insane. As for you being a big baby, it's true! You're pouting because you didn't get your favorite meal once! Grow up!"
Without warning, Edward's hand grips her upper arms, crushing him to her chest and slanting his lips over hers. Vampire me, kisses him just as fiercely, one hand threaded in his hair at the nape of his neck, while the other rips his clothes off with a flick of a wrist.
It feels odd watching this from an outside perspective.
I know this is me … whatever this is, I know it's about Edward and me. However, it feels like it's someone else. I don't know whether it's because I'm observing like a pervert, or perhaps it's because there's no doubt I'm certifiably insane.
Whatever the reason, watching this is pissing me off … and turning me on at the same time.
And that leaves no question.
I'm completely off my rocker.
Suddenly, the scene before me grows hazy, as if I'm looking at it through muddied water. My stomach clenches and lurches as a heavy flash of pain flies through me.
It starts at my head, near my temple, and shoots down my entire right side, all the way down to my feet … though it's my head and hip that hurt the worst.
Looking down, I swallow back the bile as I see the torn flesh of my hip, with layers of muscle and a little bit of bone covered in blood. My mouth fills with saliva, a clear warning sign that I'm about to vomit in whatever world I'm in.
"Bella! Don't move, sweetheart. You're going to be all right," A distant voice calls and the room around me shakes, slightly overcome by bright white lights and pale blue walls that seemingly gleam under the fluorescent lights.
Flinching against them, I attempt to raise a hand to shield my eyes from the light, but neither of my arms raises; they're heavy and hollow-feeling, as if someone had replaced the muscle and bone with lead.
I feel a slight vibration come from deep within my chest, and within a second of it happening, concerned golden eyes over pale skin and light blond hair enter my field of vision, standing over me and thankfully blocking the light.
Carlisle.
His lips are moving as he speaks, his hands cradling my head for some odd reason. I try to concentrate on what he's saying because I'm sure it's important … since he's a doctor and all, but I can make anything out.
His face swirls around in a nauseating circle as a choir of voices, metal hitting metal, and a sharp tandem of squeaking rises in intensity. Any attempts I make to look around are thwarted by Carlisle, who gently but firmly keeps my gaze on him alone.
Briefly, his eyes dart up, his lips pressing firmly together as his eyes flash with irritation just before he barks something out, raising one hand, directing to someone.
Using the opportunity, I allow my head to fall to the right, seeing a mess of bloody gauze and instruments on a table, half shrouded by a red-stained, blue cloth.
Wondering if all that had come from me, I peer down, straining to see what the hell is going on with me, but a wave of severe dizziness overtakes me. I squeeze my eyes closed, hoping to push away the sounds and sights, and thankfully, another wave of oppressive darkness washes over me, and I'm immersed in silence and numbness once more.
The next time I open my eyes, I'm in the same room, only this time, I'm watching the other me, with Edward relaxing on the couch while one of my favorite horror movies plays on the television. I'm sitting between Edward's bent legs; one of his hands is resting on my hip—the same hip that had been hurting me seconds ago—and the other plays with a lock of my hair.
My eyes are transfixed on the television lazily, looking completely relaxed as I watch. Edward's attention, however, isn't on the television but on me.
After a minute of this, Edward's eyes dart to the screen before returning to me.
"Aren't you tired of this movie?"
I'd think it was real, except for the small smirk he's sporting.
"Aren't you tired of complaining?"
"Hmm," he muses with a low hum. "Nope. Not really."
"There you go."
He chuckles, squeezing me close to him. "You're such a pain, but I do enjoy spending time like this with you … even if we have to watch a mediocre horror film that's completely overhyped."
The look on his face is pure anticipation and joy as if he knows this will push my buttons and get me riled up.
And the sad part is, I think he's done this before … and I fall into it every single time.
"It's a classic slasher movie, you snob! And I'll have you know— "the other stops as she spins around, eyes dangerously glittering as she takes in Edward's satisfied smirk.
"You are such an asshole! Why do you have to piss me off?"
Edward reaches forward, ignoring how his hand is slapped away, only to use the other one in a lightning-quick move. He tucks a lock of hair behind the other Bella's ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek.
"Because you're adorable when you're angry, and you know it turns me on," he confesses, swooping in to pull her close and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her.
It's such a good kiss that it leaves me breathless, and I'm just a strange observer in this funky dream-world.
"And besides, I have to make sure your transformation didn't completely alter your personality. It's nice to see there are still some things that never change."
Other Bella sneers, pushing him off the couch, and in a blurred movement, straddles him, placing her hands on his shoulders to keep him in place.
Edward doesn't seem to mind this new arrangement; in fact, he looks rather pleased with himself. His hands take hold of her hips, squeezing gently.
"Oh, come on. Don't give in that easily," I mutter, shaking my head as I watch the scene play out.
Strangely enough, Edward tilts his head toward me, his eyebrows furrowing together.
"Bella?"
"You're just so pleased with yourself, aren't you?" Other Bella questions, ignoring his obvious confusion.
Like a flip had been switched, his expression morphs into one of playfulness. If I weren't watching so closely, I'd swear he never seemed confused. "From where I am right now, yeah, pretty much. Although, it would be better if there were fewer clothes in the way," he says, one of his hands gliding up Other Bella's back to the collar of the shirt she's wearing, tugging slightly.
It must be hard to rip a seam because the distinct sound of fabric tearing can be heard.
Slapping away his hand, Other Bella glares down at him. "Jerk. Don't rip anymore of my clothes, okay? I'm running out."
"I'm not complaining."
"Of course not. But you will complain if I accidentally dent your precious car in the garage. Or touch your sound system again."
His eyes narrow, and he flips them both over. Now, it's the other Bella's turn to smirk with satisfaction.
"You wouldn't dare."
Other Bella shrugs a shoulder, wrapping her leg around his hip to bring him closer. "Maybe, maybe not. But I know the right buttons to push on you, too."
Lightly, Edward laughs, brushing a strand of hair behind Other Bella's ear. "You drive me crazy; you know that? And I love you for it."
"Don't you blame your insanity on me, Edward. You were that way before I met you … and I love you too, jerk."
Other Bella lifts her head, planting a searing kiss on Edward's lip. In response, he groans, grinding his pelvis into hers. In the next few seconds and a blur of hands later, clothes are shredded, floating down to the floor like snowflakes. Limbs intertwine, and sensual moans echo throughout the room.
It's honestly weird to watch this, even though I know it's me … or some version of me.
Still, it's strange.
I start to turn away, only to gasp in pain as an agonizing shooting sensation shoots from my head, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. The air leaves my lungs in a harsh gust, making the room around me spin.
In an effort to stop the mad swirl of colors, I blink rapidly, squeezing my eyes closed.
It doesn't work.
Instead, it gets worse.
Every other time I open my eyes, I see the midnight blue walls of the house where Alternate-Reality-Edward and Other Bella live, mixed with baby blue walls and harsh fluorescent lights. They swirl together in a nauseating combination of colors, coupled with light and darkness.
"Make it stop," I moan out, holding a hand to my head. "Make it stop. Help me! Make it stop."
"Bella?"
"What's … going … happening … her?" The voice is distant as if I'm trying to listen through a wall.
And I've done my fair share of eavesdropping to know how frustratingly muffled that shit can be.
I concentrate harder, ignoring the pounding in my head and the feeling of overwhelming dizziness and nausea. The longer I focus on hearing the low buzz of voices, the louder it becomes.
Briefly, it's overcome by a rhythmic beeping that makes my head pound harder, unable to handle the sharp constant noise.
The call of the numb void is getting too hard to ignore as pain pulses throughout my body. Even though watching my dreams from a third party's perspective is weird, it's better than feeling this excruciating hurt.
When my name is uttered once more, this time, I focus on what's being said because I'm entirely too nosey for my own good.
"Carlisle, please," the voice continues, the familiar tone high-pitched and filled panic.
Mom.
"Just tell us, Carlisle," another familiar voice says, the tone a deeper baritone, but it's cracking in multiple places as if they're barely trying to hold themselves together. "Don't—don't do that. You've … you've been our friend for years … our confidant, Carlisle. Hell, you've been just as much a brother to me as Billy has. You've helped me with so much—you gave me my wife back. Don't—don't you dare put on that doctor face and prepare to soften the blow. Just tell us; straight. Right. Now."
There's a soft, reluctant sigh and the shifting of fabric. Something cold and hard grips my hand tightly, sending an electrical spark up and down my arm. The feeling of something feather-light and soft presses against the back of my hand before flipping it over to press into my palm.
It's Edward.
As much as I wish I could open my eyes and look around at what's happening, I know it's him.
There's no one else who can cause such a reaction within me.
Seconds later, Edward groans into my skin, and my arm jerks wildly as he shakes, his other arm resting across my thighs as he pulls himself closer to me.
"It's not good, Charlie," Carlisle starts, reluctance and sadness coloring every syllable. "The injury to her head was too severe; there's too much swelling in her brain, and she's not responding to treatment."
"But she could—"
"It's been three days, Renee," Carlisle interrupts. There's a firm certainty as well as sorrow as he speaks. "There should have been some sign that she was healing with everything I've done medically, but there's nothing. She's not getting better; she's not getting worse … she's just … here. In limbo."
Simultaneously, there are cries from everyone in the room, and my heart clenches at the thought of causing my family pain.
Idly, I wonder where Rose and Jasper are, but nix the idea the second it comes.
I'm glad they're not here.
They don't need to be a part of this conversation.
But where does that leave me now?
"So, what now?" Dad asks. "Can she—will you—change her? Will she survive?"
Anxiously, I await his answer, but there's nothing but silence following the sound of squeaking shoes against the linoleum.
"Oh, Doctor Cullen. I didn't realize you were in here. I can come back," an unfamiliar voice states, trailing off in a short nervous giggle.
"That's quite all right, Anna. Charlie, Renee, why don't we continue this in my office?"
There's a murmur of agreement, followed by whispers close to me. Whatever is being said, Edward hisses a response and is subsequently reprimanded by his father.
I really wish I could see what's going on around me, but my eyelids won't obey my command to open, no matter how hard I tell them to.
Stupid bodily functions.
A tense silence weighs down on the room as I track a flurry of movement from my left. I imagine Edward is glaring at the poor nurse making sure everything is all right with the machines and IVs I'm hooked up to. Once more, I wish I could do something besides lay here like a dead fish.
I'd tell her to push more painkillers through my veins.
After the longest minute of my life, Edward exhales heavily, and I feel his lips press against the inside of my wrist before I feel the familiar silky sensation of hair against my fingertips.
"Bella, I wish you'd wake up. Do something; scream. Call me a jerk … or a jackass. Complain about being in a hospital. Give me a hard time. Kiss me. Something." He pauses, taking in a heavy breath. "I hate these contacts," he mutters a moment later, seemingly to himself.
It sparks my curiosity. Why is he wearing contacts? For what purpose?
His golden eyes can pass off easily as normal.
Not completely normal, mind you, but still.
Why would he need contacts?
Immediately, I know the answer.
He'd need contacts if his eyes were any other color besides gold or onyx.
He'd need them if they were red.
Red from human blood.
Inside, I feel myself shaking, as if I had just run a long marathon, but there are no outward effects. If there were, Edward would notice and say something, but he remains silent, his head in my hand.
I will myself to move my fingers, to let him know I'm here; that I'm aware, but I'm trapped inside of my own body, unable to do anything.
I picture myself screaming inside that swanky-ass apartment, various pieces of glass breaking around me. If only I could drag Edward there too, then maybe I could talk to him.
I could ask him why he needs contacts.
… Why I'm not getting better.
And I would definitely ask what's going to happen to me now because this being aware while also being a vegetable is a seriously shitty situation to be in.
The feeling of being dragged back into the void of numbness comes along strong, encasing my entire body in a fog. Instead of fighting it, however, I allow it to take me.
After all, there isn't much else I can do.
Stumbling backward, I catch myself on the edge of the sofa, whipping my head around like a crazy person. On the couch, there's a pillow and a blanket, rumpled and messy from someone sleeping there. On the coffee table, a mug of tea rests, the contents now cold with a filmy layer on the surface.
Had I been dreaming? Did I imagine the entire hospital?
Looking around, I try to gauge where I am, seeing the familiar apartment from before—but two things, or people, rather—are noticeably absent.
There's no 'other me' or Edward there.
It's just me, alone in a quiet room, with a roaring fire for company. It crackles and hisses, and the heat is deliciously warm. Taking a step toward it with my hands outstretched, I pause, wondering if perhaps the entire hospital and severe injuries I heard were just a dream.
I don't recognize this place, but some things do look familiar.
Like the couch. And the chairs. The books.
I easily recognize them all from Edward's apartment … the apartment I have been to.
So, what is this place? Where is this place?
Is this another apartment of his? Or am I again dreaming?
But what's a dream?
This place? Or the hospital?
Gazing down at myself, I see no signs of damage or trauma. I'm perfectly normal … as I can be, that is.
So, what is real?
"Hello?" I call out, my voice wavering. Grimacing, I clear my throat and try again. "Hello? Anyone here? Edward? Mom? Dad?"
There's no reply, just the soft crackling of the fire and my rapid breathing.
Taking a step closer toward the fireplace, I fold my legs underneath me and sit down, shivering as a wave of warmth washes over me.
I need to think about this.
The hospital had seemed very real, and the pain was definitely real. It was slightly numbed as if someone had doused me in pain medication, but there was still a dull throbbing that was present. I couldn't open my eyes, and I couldn't talk.
That tells me it was real. Or at least, my brain had thought it was real.
After all, I had dreams before where I thought I had died, and seconds later, I woke up completely fine.
But this? This entire situation I'm unsure of. I just wish I had some answers … someone to talk to … but as I look around, I see no phone or computer. I'm completely isolated; something that doesn't bode well for my temper.
Tapping my fingers furiously against the floor, I attempt to rationalize what the hell is going on here; am I crazy? Hurt? Dreaming?
What I had seen earlier was definitely a dream. Me, as a vampire, having crazy wild sex with Edward would have been more believable if I hadn't been a third party, watching it occur.
So, that makes the hospital real, then.
The pain was unquestionably real.
But what about now? I don't feel anything now, except for a dull throbbing sensation coming from the center of my head.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I grit my teeth, pushing past the pain.
I want answers, damn it.
I want to know what's real and what's not.
As the fire crackles once more, I'm struck with an idea. If this were real, then sticking my hand in the fire would hurt. If I weren't dreaming, my skin would blister, and I'll scream. If I'm dreaming, then nothing will happen, and I'll wake up … hopefully.
Taking a deep breath, I move the gate that stands in front of the fireplace and lean forward on my knees, reaching for the orange flames.
This is the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I almost wish someone would stop me.
I need someone to be a voice of reason; since I'm alone, I doubt there's going to be one.
Without another thought, I squeeze my eyes closed and thrust my hands into the flames, and immediately gasp.
Instead of my hand hurting, like I expect it would, my head and hip throbs furiously, my flesh pounding in a furious rhythm that matches my thundering heart.
I gasp, falling backward, landing on the hard floor with a thud. The air is knocked from my lungs, and I have difficulty drawing in a breath. With each inhale I take, I feel like a vice is tightening around my lungs, squeezing out every last bit of air.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I focus on taking in short, measured breaths while I imagine my chest rising upwards, filling with air.
It's something my mother had told Rose to do once when she had a panic attack … and no offense against my mother, but she's full of it.
My chest starts to burn, causing my heart to race faster, and that only makes me more aware of the pain radiating throughout my body.
Distantly, I can hear a high-pitched beeping and the sound of my name being called in anguish.
Tears leak from behind my eyelids, cascading down the tops of my cheeks and rolling into my hair. Shakily, I bring a hand up to wipe them away and freeze when I feel cold fingers entwine with mine.
Blindly, I grasp the hand as hard as I dare, wishing for help.
Wishing for them to hear me.
Wishing for the pain to stop.
"Be-Bella?"
My eyes snap open, and I see Edward hovering over me, falling next to me with a less than graceful thump. I want to laugh, but the pain is too intense, and all I can manage is a broken chuckle that comes out more like a wail.
Confusion erased, for the time being, Edward surges for me, holding me in his arms, his lips pressed against my temple. He jerks back in surprise, a look of amazed astonishment heavy on his features.
"Bella? Is it—" he pauses again, slowly running a finger down the side of my face and shivering as an electric current passes between us.
I release another cry at the sensation but hold onto him as tight as I'm able.
"What's going on? What—what the hell is happening? Where am I?"
"Don't know …," I grit out, trying to keep my tears at bay, but I'm not as successful as I'd like to be.
"Hurts."
Holding me tighter, Edward presses another kiss to my temple, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his head cocks to the side.
"Just focus on me, baby," he whispers. "Focus on me and this room we're in, right now, okay? Push the pain away."
I want to scoff and scream and curse at him.
How the hell can I push the pain away when it feels this terrible? When it feels as if I'm being torn apart from the inside out? When my entire body throbs and pulses with each breath I take?
He must see this on my face because he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.
"Just try. For me. For your family."
Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and attempt to push it away. But all it does is get worse. My back arches as I release a deep groan, my head pounding in rhythm with the quick beeping I faintly hear. Soon enough, it gets washed away by a roaring in my ears, drawing out all other sounds as the pain in my body intensifies. One of my hands claws desperately at the floor while the other scratches at Edward's impenetrable flesh.
"Edward!" I hear a faint voice call.
My mind wanders to that voice, wondering who it could be. Briefly, the world around me gets dark, and I panic, not wanting to lose Edward. I focus on the feel of him and the dim, flickering orange light of the fire, wishing I had never stuck my hand in that damn fireplace in the first place.
He releases one short sob, holding me tighter and lifting me higher on his lap until I'm sitting up. His lips kiss away the wetness on my cheeks, and he stares into my eyes. His hands come up to frame my cheeks, making it impossible to look anywhere but him.
"Bella, listen to me. You're not getting better; you're getting worse. And—" he pauses, taking a shuddering breath. "And I think you letting me inside your head is making it worse. I can make it better, okay? I can change you."
"Do it," I force out through clenched teeth.
Relief washes over him. "Are you sure?"
"Can't … get … worse," I grind out. "Already … dying."
He shoots me a dark look, clearly telling me he's not amused. "Even unconscious, you're a pain in the ass," he mutters. "All right, but I—"
Another sharp pain in my head bursts through my skull, shrouding everything around me in darkness. Blindly, I feel around for Edward—for anything—and come up empty. Panic starts to set in, and my breathing accelerates as my heart pounds away in my chest.
Closing my eyes, I try to focus on settling my breathing, knowing that panicking won't get me anywhere.
And apart from being alone in the dark, there is one advantage.
At least the pain is gone.
Taking a moment, I allow myself time to collect myself and try to think of an explanation as to what is happening.
Was Edward really with me?
My Edward?
I felt the same electrical spark I always do when he touches me but did my brain create it?
No.
He was here.
I just have to get back to him.
In the distance, I hear raised voices talking over one another as they argue. I focus on them because they're familiar, hoping that if I do so, then I'll be able to make out what's going on.
The more I focus, the clearer the voices become.
It's my mom and Edward … and they don't sound happy.
"You're not touching her," Mom hisses.
I can't see her, but I can feel her presence in front of me. In my mind, I see her standing over me, crouched and ready to spring at Edward.
"Renee, you heard my father. She's not getting better, and she's in pain. Changing her will heal her; it'll keep her with us."
"With you, you mean," she says with a sneer.
"Yes. She's my mate. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep her with me … even if it means going through her own mother to do so."
A sound so vicious erupts from my mother that if I had been awake and able to move, I would have shrunk back in fear.
"Never."
"Renee, I was there with her, in her mind. She's suffering. She's in pain. Let me help her."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I'm a vampire. You're a vampire. I can read minds; you have super self-control," Edward slowly drawls as if he's speaking to a toddler. "What's so difficult to believe about this? I truly believe with every undead cell in my walking corpse that Bella is gifted."
I want to laugh at his phrasing because that sounds like something I would say … and I have to admit, I'm proud of him.
Mom huffs a laugh, but stops short as if she didn't want to express that emotion. "You sound like her."
The sensation of fingers brushing through my hair follows shortly after, and I know she's out of her defensive posture now, staring down at me.
"She's a bad influence."
I roll my eyes, hoping I remember this conversation when I wake up because he's definitely on my list now.
"I know she won't get better," Mom says after a moment. "I'm her mother; I know these things sometimes. I feel it deep in my gut. And Alice pretty much confirmed it," she admits quietly. "She told me she saw … she saw … she saw Bella's funeral." Mom chokes out the last sentence, dry sobs filling my ears, along with the deeper, agonized cry I realize belongs to Edward.
A hard, icy coldness presses down on my midsection while that same coldness penetrates my entire left side. It isn't until I feel familiar lips pressing against my cheek, temple, and lips that I realize it's Edward and he's most likely lying beside me.
"You'll be okay," he whispers over and over like a mantra.
If I were able, I'd call him co-dependent and needy, but I actually like the closeness. It makes me safe.
"She will," my mother says, her voice more collected but still cracking. "I'll fix it. I'll fix her."
"Renee, wait. We need to get her somewhere—"
He's cut off as my right arm is raised, and seconds later, I feel a sharp scratch at the tender skin of my wrist. There's a faint pressure there, gaining intensity as the grip tightens and I'm jerked upward.
The pain is so intense, sending my body into spasms and jolting me away from the darkness I was trapped in.
Now, I'm free.
My eyes are open, and I scream at the sight of my mother, crouched over me, a low grunting growl roaring through her chest as she meets my eyes.
She looks feral and dangerous.
Like a vampire.
Edward leaps toward her, arms outstretched, talons out, a snarl erupting from him. At the same time, the door comes flying open, and Carlisle blurs over to Edward and my mother, trapping her arms behind her back as she growls and thrashes, her onyx eyes focused on the torn, bleeding flesh of my mangled hand.
I scream out again at the sight of it, feeling the hot liquid that is my blood gushing from my wound.
Dizziness overtakes me, and for a moment, things go quiet and still.
Moments later, sounds come roaring back, louder than ever.
"Bella," Edward breathes, leaning over me now, his hands framing my cheeks. "Shh. It's going to be okay, all right? I'll fix it. I promise."
Over his shoulder, I see Carlisle glaring at my mother as he slams her into the wooden cabinet in the corner. He presses her head against the surface, whispering furiously in her ear in between growls and snarls of his own. The wood cracks against the pressure, but he doesn't release his hold.
"Quickly, Edward; she's losing too much blood. She'll die if you wait any longer," Carlisle tells his son, grunting as he tries to keep my mother still. "Renee, enough! This is your daughter."
"Carlisle, we can't do this here, and I don't think I'm— "
"There is no time," Carlisle hisses, his voice rising and lowering as if someone is messing with the volume on a television. "It has to be here. It has to be now. I'll handle security as soon as I can get Renee out of here."
"The window," Edward says, turning sharply as my dad comes flying into the room, his face red and breathing labored.
"What—Renee?"
"Charlie," Carlisle barks, grunting as my mother thrashes once more. "Open the window. Now!"
Briefly, I close my eyes, allowing the dark and numbness to take me again.
But it doesn't last.
Edward's lips press against my own softly, staying there for a moment before pulling away, leaving a trail of broken kisses to my ear.
"Bella," he breathes, his voice broken and full anguish. "It'll be all right. I'll fix it."
Without another word, I feel the skin of my neck sliced open and the hot gush of liquid spill out until it's surrounded by a numbing cold.
This action repeats itself three more times; once on the wrist my mother had bitten, once on the opposite wrist, and finally ending on the skin above my breast, where my heart thunders wildly.
Pain like anything I had felt soars through me, as if someone had stuck a million hot needles in my body, setting me aflame from the inside out.
I want to scream, but like before, I find myself trapped inside my own body, unable to do anything except burn alive.
So ... that happened. *whistles innocently.* I'll try to not keep you waiting too long for the next update.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Stay safe!