Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy.
A/N: In honor of the holiday and because I teased you, here is the next chapter. Happy Thanksgiving! :)
Thank you to my beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE, Shadman, and Shelljayz. Thank you also to shirleypositive72. Congrats on your Energize Awards win for The Lists! :)
This week was awesome! My sister, brother-in-law, and niece were here to visit for Thanksgiving and Charlotte Rose is the sweetest, smartest, cutest toddler ever. Plus, I got to see BD 2 with my sis and it was frickin' awesome! The other thing that was great about this week and every one since I started posting Longing - all of you! Everyone who has read, followed, favorited, and reviewed make me so damn happy it's ridiculous! :)
Now, let's get into Bella's head, shall we?
Chapter 12
oOo
September 2080
BPOV
I was in deep shit, seriously, seriously deep shit. That was the only possible way to describe my current situation. I was reasonably certain I'd come up with a way out of said situation but it was risky and I would only have a very small window of opportunity in which I could carry out this plan of mine. Unfortunately, until this window presented itself, and it would be awhile before it did, all I could do was wait but waiting wouldn't do me any favors.
I was cold and it had nothing to do with the fact that I was currently lying in a cold storage unit in the University of Louisville Hospital morgue with a tag marked "Jane Doe" looped around my right big toe. There were two kinds of cold chambers that could be found in morgues. The positive temperature kind, in which bodies were kept between 36°F and 39°F, were generally reserved for the bodies of people who had families to identify and bury them. In other words, they were short term, meant for storage of weeks. The negative temperature kind, in which bodies were kept between 14°F and -58°F, were typically used in forensic facilities for bodies that couldn't be identified. The body was basically frozen to prevent decomposition. This was the kind I found myself in, the temperature of my temporary frosty home hovering solidly at 5°F. A normal person may have died from the cold or, at the very least, been frozen solid after spending the three hours in this thing that I had but I was neither because I was about as far from normal as a person could get. I wasn't dead but I was cold, and I shouldn't have been. This was bad.
In the year 2012, terrorists infiltrated the United States Government and Armed Forces, having managed to smuggle operatives loyal to their cause into key government offices and powerful military positions both in the Pentagon and major military bases. In a coordinated attack, they managed to take out 25% of our military, which included soldiers, weaponry, and any technology required to carry out competent military operations, plus destroy California from San Jose all the way down through Ensenada, Mexico with strategically placed nuclear bombs. Their plans had included the destruction of a hell of a lot more real estate and millions more casualties, particularly military ones. By taking out our country's phenomenal defense against threats like them, they could more easily destroy everything else - not just land and lives, but everything our nation stood for. The only reason they hadn't been completely successful was because one of their most trusted leaders hadn't been quite as much of a zealot as neither he nor they had assumed, and had had an attack of conscience at the last possible minute. Our country had managed to scrape together enough of a defense to thwart the majority of their plan and had ended up saving a lot of lives.
We were fierce, unrelenting, and merciless in our retaliation but the enemy faction responsible for the attack was vast and had deeply hidden roots. The war that ensued to wipe them out stretched over a span of fifteen years and, while we had an upsurge of enlistment, we never really managed to make up for the 25% of the Armed Forces we lost. Even with the aid of our allies, the war ended up costing the United States another 40% of our military resources; mainly the lives of dedicated soldiers, and dealt a crushing blow to our economy and morale.
That was when the idea of genetically-engineered super soldiers was hatched. It was an idea that had been toyed with before but had been shelved. At first, there was the issue of ethics and whether or not science and technology were advanced enough to make a successful go of it. Then, when science and technology had been up for the task, the economy had been in the shitter and the government had decided fixing that was more important, which had been absolutely true. Plus, mechanical technology was getting so advanced that it seemed as though, in a few short years, they could send machines in to carry out the dangerous missions that soldiers risked their lives to complete in the name of protecting our country. It seemed silly to spend the money and waste the talents and time of brilliant scientists on a project that would soon be obsolete. Then came the attack and the war, and everything changed.
Initially, the government had been really gung-ho with the sending in the machines to fight the battles idea. They were firm, zealous, in their quest to eradicate any and all terrorism, and the people of the United States were behind them completely. Because so many lives had been lost our leaders were reluctant to send any more of our men and women out to their potential deaths. Sending actual soldiers into battle wasn't something that could be completely avoided, of course; but for the first couple years of the war, the machine tactic had worked brilliantly to keep the casualty rate to a minimum. We weren't the only ones with excellent technology, however. After those first couple years, our enemies started using electromagnetic pulses to disable the machines that kept the majority of our soldiers off the front lines. We started to do the same and it wasn't long before we were back to sending the brave men and women of our military back into bloody battles fought with nasty weapons and biological warfare; which was exactly what our opponents had ultimately wanted most - our lives. That's how we ended up losing another 40% of our soldiers.
Because of this, the government had had to revisit the idea of genetically-engineered super soldiers. In light of the massive casualties we'd suffered; 65% in total, the idea of being able to send in ten soldiers in place of one hundred or even a thousand and not suffer a single casualty, which was the premise behind the concept, was something they felt they needed to consider. However, even with all the money donated by the relief fund to help rebuild our military, California, and everything else that had suffered from the attack and resulting war, it still put us trillions of dollars more into debt trying to fix things. Even seven decades later we still hadn't really managed to fully restore things to the way they had been before. In light of this, they'd only been able to spare enough money to fund the research and development of one soldier prototype at a time. It was one of the most covert projects the government had ever given the green-light to. They hadn't wanted the public to know of the project their most elite team of scientists, biologists and genetic engineers most specifically, were undertaking, aptly named Project Apotheosis. Since no timeline could be given as to when these soldiers would be ready to replace their enlisted loved ones or if the elite scientists would even be successful in creating them, they hadn't wanted to give people false hope. But those elite scientists had been successful. It had taken a little over fifty years but they did produce a truly functional genetically-engineered soldier.
That truly functional genetically-engineered super soldier prototype was me, Soldier Omega – the soldier meant to be the end all, be all of "ordinary" soldiers, which was why my being cold was such a bad thing. I didn't get cold – it wasn't in my genetic recipe. Obviously, I knew what cold was and how it felt; I just didn't feel it the way a normal person did unless I purposely lowered my body temperature. I used to do this for training purposes to prep for missions that might require its use. Now I did it in the spirit of preserving the illusion of normalcy, but I wasn't doing this on purpose.
I wasn't going to panic though. I had been trained not to panic even in the most dire situations, so for now I would be the soldier I'd been specifically created to be, focus on my plan, and wait for the right time to execute it. Until then, to keep myself occupied, I had plenty of time to reflect on how I'd gotten into this shitty, shitty situation.
oOo
This whole thing was entirely Jasper fucking Cullen's fault.
Of course, it had all started with my idiotic decision to break into the Cullen home. Desperation had been my motivation at the time and people do really stupid things when they're desperate.
I'd had a close call with hunters a month before that fateful day in Forks, Washington. "Hunters" were what I called the specially trained elite soldiers whose sole mission was to hunt me down and bring me back, alive, to Fort Ares, the military base at which I was created; though I'm sure they had a much fancier name for themselves. I was a science experiment the government had spent a shitload of money on, hoping not only that my existence would eliminate the need for "ordinary" people to enlist in the United States military but that it would cut the cost of maintaining the military in the long run. The fact that I had escaped their custody almost five years ago hadn't gone over well and they wouldn't rest until they had me back. I had been on the run for those five years and knew I probably would be for the rest of my life, but that was the price I had to pay for freedom.
The hunters, whom I had known on sight, hadn't actually known how close they'd come to catching me. I had walked right up to them on a bright street in Victoria, British Columbia under the guise of selling some crap fundraiser merchandise for the fictional high school I'd told them I went to. Engaging them in casual conversation designed to get them to buy the crap I'd bought at a cheesy tourist shop to pose as the fundraiser merchandise; I'd even managed to sell some of it to them. It was a ballsy move on my part, a stupid one even, but I'd had to know if they knew what I looked like. They should have with the state of age-simulation software these days, but you just never knew. If they had known who I was, they'd waited way too long to make their move. I'd walked away from them acting as though I hadn't a care in the world but as soon as I was out of their sight, I was out of that city in five minutes flat.
I went underground after that, both literally and figuratively. I used sewers and subway tunnels to travel. When I got tired of those, I swam - rivers, lakes, the ocean, any body of water deep enough to give me adequate cover. My route of travel was haphazard, completely unplanned, but I always knew what direction I was going. I didn't resurface for anything from the day of my encounter with the hunters until the day before I broke into the Cullens' house; not for food, not for sleep, not for bathing. I'd known I could live without the first two for a while and the latter was a luxury I was willing to live without until I felt like it was safe to reemerge.
The sleeping thing wasn't new. I'd never needed more than a handful of hours every couple weeks. Not eating wasn't pleasant but it was doable. It had been explained by one of the scientists who'd created me as a sort of hibernation, which I could achieve by learning to lower my body temperature, slow my breathing, and lower my metabolic rate. It was something I had learned to do through hours upon hours of training and practice, but was only capable of due to the fact that the scientists that had created me had spliced the DNA of some unknown, to me, mammal that did this into my double helix. The purpose of this had been to give me the ability to hunker down in the event of missions gone awry where circumstances were particularly catastrophic; the kind of circumstances where I would have no access to supplies and could not be extracted for an unforeseeable amount of time. Making use of this particular ability had been tricky to do after my encounter with the hunters because I hadn't been willing to veg for longer than thirty-six hours every ten days. I couldn't exactly jet around like I was pumped full of rocket fuel, which was a good way to describe what I looked like at full speed, and moving at any velocity above sloth put my body into two conflictive states, but I'd done it. I had ridden that line and I'd gone from healthy to unattractively thin in the four weeks I'd gone underground. If I had been able to hunker down in the tradition of true hibernation I probably could have gone another two months before I'd gotten to that point but I had been too paranoid not to keep moving, which meant less energy conservation and the loss of more body mass at an infinitely quicker rate. Needless to say, I'd been as ravenous as a bear by the time I felt I could go back to my attempts at living as normal a life as I could considering my circumstances … I laughed quietly at this simile. How could I not?
The Cullen house really had seemed deserted when I'd come across it or maybe I'd just been so hungry and exhausted I'd convinced myself it did. In my defense, the place was neat as a pin. There wasn't one single thing out of place that I could see, which clearly suggested abandonment even though the complete and utter lack of dust was a little contradictory. I mean, who is that freakishly tidy? The place had put the home of even the most clinically severe OCD patient to shame. Plus, there hadn't been a scrap of food to be found anywhere in that kitchen. Who lets their refrigerator, pantry, and cupboards get completely empty before they go grocery shopping?
Though I had been ten times more exhausted than I would have been under normal circumstances because of my self-induced starvation, still feeling like I was under water to a certain degree, their lock had still been a breeze to pick. One would think, being as rich as they were, that they would have had better security to protect their clearly priceless possessions. No amount of security they could have had would have been a problem for me, but still. I had been caught completely off guard when their car came zooming up the driveway, screeching to a halt, the front door banging open so swiftly that some part of my fatigued mind registered it as being abnormal. I hadn't thought on that much though. I had been far too busy concentrating on a quick escape, but I had been mildly delirious at the time and that quick escape hadn't exactly gone as planned. I hadn't been as light on my feet as I would have been at optimum strength and the wet rubber of the sole of my shoe rubbed against the shiny polished wood floor of their kitchen just hard enough to produce the squeak heard 'round the world.
I had been angry with myself for getting caught, that I'd had to let them catch me once they figured out I was in their house in the first place; but more than that, I had been sorry. I didn't like stealing even though sometimes it was just something I had to do to survive. When I was younger, it was something I'd had to do a lot. No one was willing to hire a twelve year old for work that paid decent enough to keep me fed, clothed, and sheltered. No one was really willing to hire a twelve year old period, and it wasn't like I could go to homeless shelters or into the foster system. The government couldn't acknowledge my existence but those were still places they would look even though they had taught me better than to hide out in places like that. Maybe these people had money coming out the ass and wouldn't be affected by the loss of a couple bazillion thread count towels and cans of food, but I was older now. I worked hard and paid for the things I needed.
Of course, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had had every right to threaten me with calling the police. I had broken into their home so it hadn't bothered me. Maybe it would have if they had meant it but I was good at reading people, and they hadn't. Strangely enough, they'd both been amused by how blasé I'd been about the whole situation. Mrs. Cullen had been curious.
It must be nice to be so well off that the thought of having any of your many priceless belongings stolen doesn't faze you, I remembered thinking.
Dr. Cullen looked concerned but patient.
What kind of freak shows concern for the person who burgled his house? was what I had thought of that.
They had both looked kind but looking something and being something were two entirely different things. I, of all people, knew that. I hadn't trusted them; trust had never been a luxury I was able to afford and there was something about the two of them that was off. I couldn't put my finger on what it was that was off about them, but that didn't really matter. I may not have been at 100% but I had still been more than capable of watching my own ass. Whether they really were kind or serial killers masquerading as docile millionaires, I could have taken them out.
I had told them I was sorry after that and had meant it, honestly thinking that would be the end of it, that after having done it I would be able to make my escape and move on. I hadn't expected seemingly sweet-natured Mrs. Cullen to tell me, in a very mother-like and inflexible fashion, that I most certainly would not be leaving nor had I expected the unadulterated wave of fury that had overtaken me as a result. I had never had a mother. I didn't need one, I didn't want one, and I sure as hell hadn't asked for one.
When they'd threatened me with the police again, I'd known they meant it that time and I'd had to think hard about what to do. What it had boiled down to was whether or not I had wanted to risk drawing attention to myself. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen were willing to do whatever it took to keep me out of the weather, which I found odd as hell, including calling the police and having me thrown in whatever passed for jail in Forks. After what had happened with the hunters, I hadn't been willing to take that risk. Maybe it had happened a month before but I had still been shaken by it, and these rich ass people were giving me an option besides the police. Of course, if they'd been bullshitting me I wouldn't have hesitated to take off, but I hadn't thought they were and taking their word for it; which was not the same thing as trusting them, was a risk I had been more willing to take than the other option I'd been presented with.
I couldn't even say that staying with the Cullens had been bad those first few hours. I had gotten to take a wonderful bath, eat delicious, if frozen, pizza, quell my exhaustion by sleeping on a bed that could only be described as a freaking cloud, listen to kickass music, brush my teeth after way too many weeks of neglecting dental hygiene though that wasn't something I really had to worry about much either, and pretend that they really were nice. It wasn't until the cold light of day broke the next morning that I realized I should have taken my chances and bolted.
The first blow had come when I'd had to accept clothes from Mrs. Cullen. I'd been wearing a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of Chucks when I'd had my scrape with the hunters. I hadn't risked taking the time to change before I'd booked it from British Columbia, and none of that was suitable attire for extended urban spelunking and water habitation. I'd been so focused on keeping a low profile that I hadn't bothered paying attention to the state of what I was wearing until I was told it hadn't survived my crusade to remain in charge of my own destiny. I hadn't wanted to take the clothes or the embarrassingly skimpy, extravagant, and expensive underwear that would have belonged to her teenage daughter if Mrs. Cullen hadn't offered it to me before she'd gotten a chance to wear it. I provided for myself. Only at that moment I couldn't because, just like I hadn't taken the time to change, on the off chance the hunters had known who I was, I hadn't risked going back to my place in Victoria to grab my things, including the stash of money I'd saved from my pizza delivery job and other various pursuits; and all the money I'd had on me at the time I'd left had been lost during my deep sea excursions. Idiot move on my part, I realized. I may have been a genetically-engineered super soldier but I'm not fucking perfect. Seeing as I'd already accepted their hospitality in offering me a place to stay and the food the night before, the clothes just made me feel like a first-class charity case, especially since they'd done all that in spite of the fact that I'd broken into their home, but I wasn't charity - I hadn't escaped Project Apotheosis so that other people could take care of me. Unfortunately, with no money of my own I was shit out of luck, so I really hadn't had any choice but to accept the clothes since my only other option was to walk around in a towel.
To make things worse, I'd actually gotten embarrassed about the state my clothes had been in, especially my underwear, and I didn't do embarrassed. I never had but there I was, completely embarrassed in front of a woman I didn't know. I had been immensely glad I had such an awesome poker face even though I hadn't been able to prevent a slight blush from coloring my cheeks.
Then, without even realizing what I'd been doing, I was joking with Mrs. Cullen. That hadn't been good. It meant she was growing on me and attachments were another luxury I couldn't afford, but I wasn't sure I had been able help it. Even though she'd been a serious bitch the night before, acting like she was my mother, her face was so open, so sweet, her voice so kind and genuine. It had been hard not to like her just a little and it had been fun to mess with her. It had been even more fun when she'd messed with me right back, though I hadn't shown her just how much I'd enjoyed it. The realization that I liked her had had the urge to leave overwhelming me again and I'd been shocked to become aware of the fact that the urge had dulled in the first place. Then she'd gone and offered me more food and told me that she and Dr. Cullen hadn't told their children that I'd broken into their house so that I wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Who did that?
I hadn't been looking forward to meeting Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's children. I knew they had more than one daughter and at least one son, and I hadn't been quite sure how to deal with that. I didn't have much experience with kids my own age. The only people I'd been exposed to the first twelve years of my life on Fort Ares had been adults so in the civilian world I had pretty much always been on the outside looking in when it came to people my age. I only had vague ideas about what they liked, whether it was what they did in their spare time or what music they listened to or if what they liked to eat was different than the food adults did, and it wasn't something I had ever taken the time to remedy. I didn't see the point in bothering because of my "no attachments" rule, so I hadn't been sure I'd know how to talk to them and I hadn't really been in the mood to talk to anyone at all. I had still been exhausted, hungry, and feeling kind of like I hadn't left the ocean behind - socializing hadn't been a top priority at the time. As much as I would have liked to put off meeting the Cullen brood, one frozen pizza was nowhere near enough to make up for the four weeks I had gone without food and my keen nose couldn't ignore the heavenly smell of the breakfast coming from downstairs. Plus, I didn't run away from things; well, aside from military operatives trying to drag me back to Fort Ares and Project Apotheosis, but that was different. Besides, the sooner I ate, the sooner I could leave.
The sheer amount of food they'd prepared had momentarily distracted me from the prospect of being introduced to the rest of the Cullen family. They had gone from no food whatsoever to enough to feed the entire base I'd been raised on for a week. I hardly ever got distracted though and if I ever did, it was only for very brief periods of time. That time was no different and was easily explained by my exhaustion. I hadn't been happy about it but I put that aside and focused on the five unfamiliar people in the kitchen in addition to Dr. and Mrs. Cullen.
Three boys and two girls, who had all looked like they'd just stepped off a fucking runway, were standing in that kitchen. While my peripheral vision took the others in, my eyes had first been drawn to the giant standing by the counter filled with all that delicious-smelling food, but not because Dr. Cullen had pointed him out first. The dude must have been 6'5" with short, slightly curly, dark brown hair and was built like a damn tank. From the way his sweater hugged his body, he, whom Dr. introduced as Emmett, was all muscle and power. If I had been some meek little girl, I might have been afraid of him but his face was open and friendly, and his boyish smile caused two deep-set dimples to pop out on either side of his mouth. He had been beautiful in a way that boys shouldn't be and he looked just as kind as his mother and father; if mischievous in a way that they weren't. I hadn't perceived him as a threat but that hadn't meant I wasn't going to keep my eye on him. I was tired but I wasn't stupid. I was in an unfamiliar place with people I didn't know and my escape and evade training as well as the last five years I'd spent running were deeply ingrained in me; that was something that could not and would not be ignored even if I had wanted to, which I hadn't. I had been a little weirded out when he'd dubbed me Storm but his reasoning was apt, humorous, and endearing in equal measure so I'd gotten over it. It had been better than them knowing what my actual name was and I never used my real name wherever I went anyway. I'd also noted during his naming of me that he'd, in no uncertain terms, declared Rosalie his significant other. Seeing as they were brother and sister; albeit adopted brother and sister with no actual blood relation, that had struck me as more than a little odd.
The first girl had been introduced to me as Rosalie, even though Emmett had said that was her name before she'd officially been presented as such by Dr. Cullen. She had been a statuesque 5'9" with long, shining, pale blond hair and possessing a body that would have driven women of any age to maddening jealousy. She would have been the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, even more gorgeous than Esme who'd previously claimed that title, if not for the hideous scowl on her face. Clearly, she hadn't been a fan of mine but that hadn't bothered me. If anything, it had made me glad. If all of the Cullens had been nice to me, I might have started to like them all and it had already been bad enough that I liked Dr. and Mrs. Cullen.
The next boy had been introduced as Edward. He had been 6'2" with unruly bronze hair. Emmett had been beautiful in a way boys weren't supposed to be but with his bulky muscles he was on the rugged side. Edward, on the other hand, was more than just beautiful; he was pretty, so pretty it almost hurt to look at him with his high cheekbones, strong jaw line, straight nose and full lips. He was lean, not skinny per se, but lanky. I couldn't tell if he was buff like Emmett was but just because his muscles hadn't been dying to rip the seams of his sweater didn't mean he wasn't cut. He'd looked like he could get a decent brood going if he had a mind to and he had seemed curious when he regarded me, his golden gaze intent as he looked at my face. If I hadn't known any better I would have said that the weird pressure I felt in my head was a direct result of those piercing gazes of his, but I did know better and that wasn't possible.
The second girl was introduced as Alice. She had been a sprightly 4'10" with short, expertly flared black hair. For someone of such small stature, her body hadn't been remotely boyish. It had been like a miniature of Rosalie's but proportionate to her size. Her face, just like Mrs. Cullen's, Rosalie's and all the others', had been exquisite with large, doe eyes and long, delicate eyebrows. The beauty of these people had made me throw up in my mouth a little. Alice, like Emmett, Mrs. Cullen, and Dr. Cullen, had seemed very kind and very excited to meet me. She'd been bouncing on her tiptoes with the grace of a dancer and waving at me like I was her long lost sister. I had been sure to caution myself not to talk to her much, as I'd done with Emmett, because I knew that if I had I might have ended up liking her more than I should.
The last boy was introduced as Jasper. He'd been 6'3" with wavy, honey blond hair that fell just above his collar, his body lean but muscular. One look at him had nearly taken my breath away and caused my heart to pound in my chest. Thankfully, years of training to keep my heart rate under my control had kept that from happening. I suppose I shouldn't have been worried about it since it wasn't as though he would have been able to hear my racing heart, but it was comforting nonetheless. The hitch in my breath may have been audible enough to give me away if I had allowed it, but I had stayed in control of that also. I had always liked being in control of things, always been told I had to be. It hadn't been something I had wanted to give up whether he'd been aware of his effect on me or not. He had been beautiful and rugged in the same way that Emmett had been but that had only been part of what had captured my attention. All of the Cullens had perfect, pale, porcelain skin that almost shone. Jasper's skin would have been the same if not for the crescent-shaped scars that littered his face, neck, jaw, and hands, making it glow rather than shine. The scars had been faint; I doubted I would have seen them at all if not for my enhanced vision – I could see up to two miles away with an unobstructed view. Maybe I should have been disgusted by them but I hadn't been; they had only made him more appealing to me. In truth, he'd been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and those scars had made me feel a desperate sort of kinship with him. If not for the awesome power of the abundance of stem cells running through my veins as well as the other regenerative science that existed within my DNA, I'd have been covered from head to toe in scars myself from all the training, poking and prodding I'd endured from my years as a human science project. I hadn't been able to help but wonder if the rest of him was scarred too and had felt a flash of embarrassment and confusion when I'd imagined myself stripping him of his shirt and pants to find out, but at least I hadn't blushed that time.
The other thing that had drawn me to him was his presence. He'd had a charisma about him that had been evident without him even having needed to speak a word, and there had been a leonine power and grace to him that couldn't be ignored and only added to his beauty. Those things had screamed "danger" and "run" but that seemed only to add to his appeal. Of all the Cullens, he had been the one to be afraid of but I wasn't. I knew I should have been but mostly he'd piqued my curiosity. I had wanted to know what had happened to him and I had felt a curious need to tell him everything that had happened to me. That, of course, had confused the hell out of me. I had never had the urge to tell anyone anything about my origins. I had absolutely no desire to be looked at like a freak. I was a freak, but knowing I was one and other people knowing I was one were two completely different things. Besides, anyone knowing where I came from was just asking to be sent back and I'd worked way too fucking hard to avoid going back there to risk that just because I was intrigued by a scarred, beautiful boy.
oOo
A/N: Alright, just in case anyone decides to ask, you won't find out why Bella is in the morgue for several chapters. This chapter and the ones following it are the story of how she ended up there, which is incredibly important to the plot, so try to be patient.
Apotheosis means "the making of a mortal into a god." In Greek myth, it generally happens after a mortal has died. Obviously, this is not the case for Bella.
So what did you think? Did you love it? Hate it? Are you surprised? I would love to know! :)
