Chapter Nine
Empathy
Carlisle called her into his office in the morning. It was her first time in the large room, and she hissed sharply as she crossed the threshold. A large window behind his desk was open, and faced towards the rising sun. She and Carlisle sparkled in the harsh light. Repulsive. What she wouldn't give to have her old skin back. Though, she supposed it was a fair trade, considering what she had been given.
He rushed out an apology, and drew the curtains. A soft click sounded, and an expensive-looking lamp sat on his desk emitted a warm golden glow. Lena for the life of her couldn't work out why. They could both see perfectly.
She remained by the door, and scanned the room. It was a habit, more than anything. Her predatory mind wanted every detail. Where would a human hide? What could she use to her advantage?
There wasn't much of interest. A set of filing cabinets pushed up against a wall, and some paintings leant against the side of his desk, unsorted and unhung. Two leather armchairs sat across from the desk, angled curiously - one towards Carlisle, and the other towards the window. The houseplant in the corner looked particularly miserable, the soil dry.
Carlisle cleared his throat.
Lena looked at him.
He gestured to one of the leather armchairs across from him. "Sit."
It bothered him, she realised, that she was still standing by the door. She didn't act human enough for him.
She sat down, and stared at him.
"Well," he said.
Lena didn't say anything. Her silence seemed to anger him more than if she had spoken.
He sighed loudly, and leaned back in his desk chair. It creaked with his weight. "What are you thinking?"
Interesting. Not what were you thinking, but what are you thinking? Now. In the present moment.
Lena expected a hundred different things walking into that room. She expected him to scream, to threaten her, to strike her. She expected him to grab her by the throat and throw her out of his house.
She didn't expect this.
"That you would care more," she said.
Carlisle looked to the wall. He was quiet for a bit, then looked back at her. "You'll be glad to know that you didn't kill her."
She didn't care either way, if she were to be perfectly honest. Death was normal. She was a predator. Bears didn't mourn for the rabbits they beheaded. If the girl lived, it was an impressive feat, but it didn't affect her.
He leant forwards, and rested his hands on the surface of the table. "Are you relieved?"
She knew her answer, but somehow, she knew that it was the wrong answer.
"Lena," he said, "do you feel empathy?"
"I don't know what that word means," she said.
He smiled, but it didn't seem genuine like his previous ones. "Do you remember when you were a human?"
She nodded.
"And when you were bitten, how did you feel?"
Her gaze dropped to her lap.
Helpless.
She felt helpless. Like there was absolutely nothing she could do to save herself. She remembered the fear, the sheer terror that gripped her limbs, held her down, paralysed her. She couldn't have ran even if she was given the chance. Worse yet was the pain, the agonising fire that ravaged her body. She laid there for days, burning up, unable to do anything but wait until it killed her.
She swallowed, and looked back at Carlisle.
He was watching her, waiting for her to say something.
"Afraid," she decided.
He nodded. "How do you think Renesmee felt?"
"Afraid."
"So?"
So, what? He was acting like it was some simple conclusion she should have reached in a matter of seconds. She reached an answer in that time, but it just didn't match his. They were doing the same math, using the same variables, and getting a different result.
She understood Renesmee. She remembered terror.
But worse than terror was the insatiable hunger, the feeling of losing her mind. Agonising obsession. Her blood was constantly on her mind. It was all she thought about - the need to feed, the fire burning in her throat, how just one tiny drop of her sweet blood would be enough to make it leave her.
"I couldn't stop myself," she said.
"When you bit her?"
Lena shook her head. "Before that."
He frowned.
"It's all I think about," she said. "Eating her."
Her gaze didn't falter, and her voice didn't crack. She didn't say the words with shame, because she didn't feel any. Her thirst for human blood was the most normal thing in her life at this point.
Something in his expression shifted. He no longer looked angry. His eyes were wide, his mouth a straight line. His gaze dropped to the table, where he traced tiny little scratches on the surface - flaws that would be imperceivable to the human eye.
"I won't tell them about this. They'd want you-" He pinched the bridge of his nose, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Christ."
It was the closest thing to a swear word she ever heard him say.
He opened his eyes and looked at her with intensity. "Don't tell another soul what you just told me, yes?"
She frowned, but nodded.
"Christ," he repeated.
"Is there something wrong with me?" she asked with mild interest.
He shook his head. "No. No, nothing like that. Just- we're going to keep an eye on you for a little while, alright?"
He continued to mutter under his breath, but it was nothing of substance. Ramblings, and self-assurances, and little else.
Lena looked around the room, no longer interested in him. He was too human. Scared.
Her eyes settled on a painting on the wall next to her. The frame was gold, with a little plaque at the bottom indicating the artwork was some three hundred years old.
She stood, and looked more closely.
Lena didn't know much about art, but she knew this painting was crafted by somebody impressive. It appeared to be some sort of party or gathering, with a drunken crowd gathered in the foreground. Beyond them, standing on a balcony overlooking the scene, were four men. The man on the far right she recognised as Carlisle.
Having had the time to collect himself, Carlisle joined her. He stood beside her, nervous energy rolling off of him, but muted in comparison to the wreck he was before.
"It's from my time with the Volturi," he mumbled.
"Volturi?"
"They're the largest and oldest coven in the world. The enforcers of our law."
Lena didn't know vampires had laws. She supposed this was something her creator was supposed to explain to her.
He must have sensed her confusion. "The laws are relatively simple. Do not bear false witness, do not draw attention, do not turn children, and do not reveal our secret to humans."
She nodded, and looked back to the picture. He was standing quite far away from the other men. Had he-
Her stomach dropped. She hadn't known it was possible.
The man in the middle, it was him, wasn't it? His dark hair was pulled away from his face, leaving his mouse-like features open to inspection. That was him. She was sure of it. The man who bit her. The man who killed her.
"Who's that?" She pointed at him, at the little white face of the man in the centre of the picture. Then, when Carlisle didn't answer quickly enough, "Who is he?"
"Aro, the leader." He frowned at her. "Lena, are you alright?"
Aro. Her murderer's name was Aro. The man who destroyed her life, the man responsible for her brothers' and her mother's deaths.
Aro.
She narrowed her eyes at Carlisle. He spent time with him, he said. He liked them enough to pose for a portrait, to take that picture home with him, to hang it up on his wall to reminisce.
She wanted to charge at him. She wanted to throw him from the third floor. She wanted to rip his limbs from his body, and, and-
He set a hand on her shoulder. "Lena?"
"Don't touch me!" She darted away from his touch.
She was a hypocrite. She knew it. Selfish, too. Angered by Carlisle's affiliation with her murderer, when she couldn't even muster up an apology for the girl she tried to eat hours before.
Her emotions became an ugly mixture of anger, resentment, and self-hatred. They bubbled inside of her, festered. She was sick. Rotten. Awful. Her family was dead. Carlisle's friend killed them. Her family was dead. She slaughtered them.
The door clicked behind her. She whipped around to face the intruder. Bared her teeth and snarled at Jasper. He was unaffected by her threat of violence. Continued towards her, back straight, face emotionless.
Calm lapped at the edges of her anger, starving the fire that was building inside her.
"Lena." His accent pulled at her name in strange ways. "Let's go for a run."
i'm kinda meh about this chapter - let me know what u thought :)
stay safe x