Hello, all! I hope you're doing well and staying safe. I'm sorry for the long delay in between updates. RL has been slightly difficult.
Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, and favorites this story! BIG thanks to Fran and Mr G and Me for helping me. They're awesome. (Any mistakes you see are my own.)
SM owns everything Twilight.
There's a flurry of movement around me as fiery pain pulses throughout my body with intensity. Through half-opened eyes, I see my dad standing near the window, his face pale and eyes wide as he stares at me, horror etched on his face.
The room spins as I try to look around as a low keening shriek can be heard from somewhere nearby. It gets louder and higher the more time passes, but oddly enough, it's in time with the pain flowing through me. It's the most annoying sound in the world, and I want to scream for the person to shut the hell up. But all I hear is more of that screeching.
A pale hand reaches over my face, pressing my lips together and muffling the sound, whispering soothingly in my ear.
Oh shit.
I guess it was coming from me.
It's not surprising, considering I'm currently burning alive from the inside out.
This contact offers a mixture of relief and pain because every new sensation against my flesh makes the burning worse. But at the same time, this person has a coldness to their skin that gives a little bit of comfort.
At the window, Carlisle leans slightly out, waving a hand as he directs someone down below. Within seconds, he snaps the window closed, blurring over to me and leaning down to look at me … or, more specifically, my body—which isn't weird at all.
His eyebrows are furrowed together in concentration, and after a moment, he nods, looking up. His eyes slide past to the person next to me, their body now half-covering mine, our legs entwined.
"You did well," Carlisle says.
The rest of what he says is gone as I get lost inside the burning pain.
It singes my skin, seeping down into my bones. It races through my veins, setting every square inch of my body on fire, but it hurts the most in the center of my chest.
—Where my heart is.
It thunders wildly, shooting out more flames through my system, engulfing me from the inside out.
Any second now, I'm sure I'll erupt in flames, spontaneously combusting and wind up as an unsolved mystery … because, you know.
… Keep the secret of vampires and all that.
If that isn't enough, my head feels like it's someone splitting open, prying my skull away with a screwdriver, digging deeper and deeper with each minute that passes.
The longer the seconds tick by, the worst the pain gets.
I want to scream.
I think I do, but I can't be sure.
It's hard to hear my own thoughts, let alone any sounds I may or may not be making.
Underneath the constant pain, there's a cold buzzing sensation along my body as if something hard and firm holds me immobile, keeping me unable to move my arms and legs.
A whisper of unintelligible words sounds in my ear, the tone of them pleading and anxious.
I listen closely, welcoming the distraction, hoping that maybe, whoever is talking to me will take pity on me and end my suffering.
"It's okay, it's going to be okay," the smooth voice repeats as a low whistling surrounds us.
I want to argue this point because it's not going to be okay.
This pain I'm in is the farthest thing from okay.
Everything within me and on me feels like it's stripping off my burn inch by inch and searing down into my bones. I want nothing more than for this pain to stop, but it only gets worse as each second ticks by.
"I know it hurts, baby. I know it's painful, but it's going to fix you, all right?" The same voice says, their lips brushing the shell of my ear, ghosting over my skin to the apple of my cheek.
Through narrowed eyes, I glare at the person hovering over me, offering me heaven and hell all at once.
Edward gazes down at me, his anxious and fearful eyes a startling deep scarlet.
It takes me off guard, and I jerk back, groaning lowly when the pain flares up once more.
"Shh," he whispers, his lips whispering over mine. "Just try to be quiet a little while longer, okay?"
A string of curses fly through my brain, but they're trapped behind Edward's hand and the tightness in my jaw as I realize what's going on here. As much as I try to keep quiet, tiny whimpers and low, keening wails escape my throat as I struggle uselessly against Edward's hold.
I know I wanted this, but right now, I just want him to kill me.
"How are we going to get her out?" Edward asks, not even flinching against my movements. In fact, the only time I see him flinch is when I scream. "There's no way we can move her like this—she'll draw too much attention."
Carlisle sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He looks toward the window but immediately shakes his head.
"I don't know," he mutters. "We can't move her through the hospital. I mean, we could if there was a distraction. I could say she simply didn't survive, and her body was already taken downstairs and released to the family."
Dad nods, stepping forward. "Yeah, I think that'll work. What can I do?"
Carlisle opens his mouth to respond, but the door flies open, and Rose comes rushing in, Jasper hot on her heels.
Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open as she gasps, a half cry and scream escaping her. Jasper looks just as shocked as she does and staggers back into the wall, his face a mask of pain. He folds in on himself, groaning lowly.
Edward's eyebrows furrow together as he looks between my cousin and myself, a spark of intrigue on his face.
"What happened?" Rose questions, looking between all of us, her breathing labored as she tries to hold herself together.
Before anyone can answer, she spins around, slamming the door shut. Seeing her twin bent over at the waist, she helps him stand, murmuring something to him. Whatever she says has him nodding reluctantly. Reaching for the door, he turns to look at me, regret flashing over his face.
I want to tell him it's okay; there's a lot of shit in this room he's picking up. It can't be easy for him.
The intense pain I'm in makes it impossible to do anything that will comfort him, so instead, I close my eyes, trying to keep my cries at a lower level.
Softly, I hear the door close, and I know he's left.
"What happened?" Rose demands again. "Emmett and Alice tore out of the waiting room—I assume because of this? Because you turned her?"
In my head, I can see her perfectly; arms folded across her chest, an eyebrow raised high on her forehead, her lips pursed, and hip cocked out to the side. Apprehension would be the dominant emotion in her eyes, though.
I know Rose; she's worried for me, and right now, she's in full protector mode.
"Actually," Edward answers, his tone coated with aggravation. "Your Aunt started the process; she almost killed her. I saved her."
"No," Rose immediately says. "Aunt Renee wouldn't."
"It's true, Rosalie," Dad interjects, his heavy footsteps moving across the room, no doubt to her. "Carlisle told us Bella wasn't getting any better; she thought turning her was the only way."
Rose releases a soft cry. "Oh, Bella. No."
Her cries get louder, and I can hear my father softly whispering reassurances to her.
After a moment, Rose sniffles. "Okay, so she's changing now, right? She'll be okay?"
"Yes," Carlisle replies, his voice close to me. I'm surprised at his sudden closeness, and I jump, immediately hissing in pain. Placing a hand on my arm, he murmurs an apology, keeping it there once he sees his cool skins somewhat settles me. "Her transformation is going well. Her heart is strong and fast."
"That is well?"
"The transformation is a painful one; our venom burns you from the inside out, essentially hardening your body and freezing you in time. This is normal."
Rose scoffs, tears evident in her broken voice. "Can't you give her something for the pain? Drugs?"
"I doubt it'll do much good; the venom will just burn it off."
"Just try! Look at her! If it helps… and besides, don't you think you should do something? Someone is bound to hear her and come asking questions. Just try it."
Carlisle sighs, and there's a shuffling of fabric, followed by a long period of silence. I feel a sharp scratch at the inside of my elbow, and behind Edward's hand, I howl at the pain.
Gently, he hums to me, his lips brushing away the tears cascading from my eyes.
I hate that I'm crying, and even worse, I hate that there are witnesses to this catastrophe of a mess. Why couldn't this have happened somewhere private, away from prying eyes?
"It's okay, baby. I won't tell anyone you cried," Edward whispers, his tone half-serious and half-joking.
I should have known he'd still give me grief even when I'm in tremendous pain.
I'd do the same to him, though, so it doesn't bother me that much. Not that I'd let him know that.
"Fuck … off," I grind out.
My retort makes him laugh, and I grunt in frustration and pain.
If I make it out of this alive, he's so getting his ass kicked.
"I gave her more than the normal dosage; we'll see what happens. Now, we just have to find a way to get her out of here and back to our house," Carlisle says. "Any ideas?"
Whatever he gave me isn't taking the pain away; in fact, it feels just as bad—if not worse—than before. Despite the need to scream and thrash and end this pain, I find myself being pulled away, almost as if I'm getting dragged underwater.
It wouldn't be a bad thing if I were free of this pain.
All it's doing now is keeping me a prisoner.
Like when I was in a coma.
Fucking terrific.
At my side, Edward sighs with relief. "I think it's helping her."
I want to scream that it's not, but I can't move, swallow or even open my eyes.
"Good. Now, let's come up with a plan," Carlisle repeats.
"Jasper and I will cause a distraction out in the hallway," Rose offers.
"What distraction?"
"To take a page from Bella's book—the less you know, the better," Rose tells him, a sly note of hesitance in her words.
"I've raised delinquents," Dad mutters. "Whether or not I'm proud of that fact has to do whether you can pull this off or not."
With the last bit of my strength, I open my eyes and see Rose rolling her eyes. "You can slip her out once everyone is distracted. But then … what will you tell the staff?"
"Simply that she didn't make it," Carlisle says. "If at least one person sees me rushing her out here, they'll assume I'm taking her to surgery; it's no secret she's not doing well, and the possibility of another surgery has been mentioned. I'll tell them she died on the way to the OR, and her body was immediately released to the family."
Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I allow them to fall closed, feeling the overwhelming need to scream and cry, but nothing happens.
When this is over, I'm definitely punching Carlisle for this. I know he was trying to help, but this is the absolute worst that could be happening while you're turning into a vampire.
"Okay," Dad agrees. "Rosalie, tell Jasper and get it started."
She doesn't answer, but seconds later, I hear her shoes squeak against the floor as she rushes out, the door softly falling closed behind her.
"Will it work, Carlisle?"
"We'll make it work, Charlie. And she'll be okay."
Again, I want to disagree; the pain is just getting worse by the second, and without having a way to express it is just making it worse.
A panic I had never felt before rises within me, and I long for that numbing void I had felt before. That would be so much better than burning alive while you're a prisoner in your own body.
I will that feeling back, wanting it more than anything. I focus on that numbing relief and freedom, remembering the feeling and push everything else aside, thinking of that dark space where it was just me and nothingness.
The only thing I regret is not being able to talk to my family once more, but right now, beggars can't be choosers … and I can't live with this pain anymore.
As if someone was listening, I feel something burst inside my head like someone popped a water balloon. There's a coldness that slowly spreads down my body, dulling the pain of the venom racing through my veins.
I latch onto this feeling, willing it to hang on for as long as it can.
It's nice.
It's definitely better than burning alive.
"Bella?" I hear a voice call from a distance away. "Bella! Bella— "
And then, there's nothing.
8*8*8*8
In the solitude of my room, I can breathe and relax.
Somewhat.
For a fall's day, the air is humid and thick, leaving my skin tingling with an overheated feeling that grants me no relief, even with the window cracked.
It makes me feel uneasy and jittery, shifting every second in a vain effort to find relief.
When the feeling doesn't go away, I try to focus on what's going on around me.
Distantly, I hear the faint sounds of my family moving about. Dad is watching sports, complaining about some player missing the perfect opportunity to pass the ball. In between, he's sweet-talking Mom, asking her to bring him various snacks, so he doesn't have to miss a moment of the game.
Mom complains about this, remarking how she isn't his slave and making snarky comments about his favorite team just to piss him off for his behavior.
Rose jabbers away on the phone, talking about anything and nothing; Jasper's screams of fright and annoyance can be heard from the confines of his room, filtering up through the floor.
Every now and then, I'll stomp my foot and cackle when I hear him cursing me out.
Something nags at me from the back of my head, telling me that I'm forgetting something important. There's a heavy feeling of foreboding in my gut, but no matter how hard I try, I can't think of what I'm supposed to remember.
Attempting to push back the feeling, I reach for my sketching notebook, and immediately, my hand breezes across the heavy paper. The faint sound of my pencil scratching against the crisp paper is a familiar sound, and I breathe a sigh of relief, pushing all other feelings out.
I don't know what I'm drawing, but my art is taking on a life of its own, and I'm not going to interrupt my creative flow.
Outside, the sun's rays pour inside, illuminating my room, casting a glow on the dust particles floating about. For a moment, I'm transfixed as they glitter brightly along the dark wood beams standing tall among the crème-colored walls.
I shake my head and blink once more, seeing the familiar purple walls of my room. Scratching my temple with the edge my pencil, I feel that familiar nagging sensation, like I'm missing something.
Blowing out a heavy breath, I return my focus to my sketching, distractedly swaying my foot as I do so.
"Hey," Rose softly says from behind me. Gently, she brushes the hair from my face, her fingers lingering on the sensitive skin underneath my eyes. "It's me."
"Um, okay." I laugh, pushing her hand away. "Weirdo. What are you doing?"
Her face is red and blotchy, her eyes tired-looking and swollen. Her hair rests in a messy, knotted bun on top of her head, and her clothes are wrinkled and disheveled.
Instantly, my back stiffens. "What's wrong?"
She turns her head away, casting her glance toward the window. She stares out listlessly, barely blinking. "What were you humming?"
Her voice is different now, stronger and confident like it normally is—nothing like the soft tone she had when she first came in.
"I wasn't humming."
"You were," she argues, looking me in the eye. I rear back because her entire expression is different now; gone are the red-rimmed eyes and dark circles underneath them. Her skin is glowing and a healthy pink.
I shake my head. "I wasn't humming."
"Yes, you were. It's familiar to you."
"What? I don't understand," I tell her, massaging my temple in a short circle as a dull pain begins to throb there.
The light around us grows dimmer and starts to flicker like a flame as the clouds obscure the sun. The dramatic change in lighting has my vision blurring, and I mutter a curse, waiting for it to pass.
Strange shadows cross Rose's face, making her look tormented and upset in a way I've never seen.
"Rose— "
"It's okay," she interrupts with a nod. "I know it's hard, but just keep doing what you're doing. It's helping."
"What?"
"I miss you; you know; you're still here, but I miss you."
Releasing a startled laugh, I shift in my chair, turning toward her, setting my sketchbook aside. "What? What are you going on about?"
"You'll be fine, you know," she continues, reaching for my hand and holding it tightly with hers. When I meet her eyes, she's back to looking horrid; pale, chalky skin with dark eyes telling me she hasn't slept in quite a bit. With the sun slowly sinking in the horizon, it casts eerie flickering shadows across her face, making me think I'm seeing things.
I could swear in the darkness of the room that someone was standing behind her, ready and waiting to intercept.
Blinking rapidly, I rub at my eyes, shaking my head. Lowly, I groan as pain stabs through the center of my skull, sending a shockwave of pain through me.
"Rose, what's going on? Who— "
"Hey!" she exclaims, holding my hand tighter with both of hers. "Bella … I love you, you know that? I'm so lucky you're my family. That's … that's why I wasn't sure this was good, you know? I wanted … I wanted … it doesn't matter what I wanted. But you'll be okay. I know it. You won't have the same experiences, but you'll have something. You'll still be here, and I'll be with you as soon as I can."
Pulling my hand from hers, I wipe my palms against my thighs. "Stop screwing with me. What's going on?"
Strangely, she rolls her eyes, shaking her head, her features back to normal once more. I jerk back in shock at the dramatic change in her face and the brightness of the room.
"What the hell?" I mutter, rubbing at my eyes as I look around.
More particles of glistening dust fly through the air, the shine of it nearly blinding me as I look straight at it. I swat my hands in random directions, hoping like hell Jasper or Rose aren't secretly taping me for blackmail material later.
Distantly, I hear a murmur of collective voices talking over one another in hushed, frenzied tones. I try to make out what's being said, but I can't decipher anything.
I feel an electrifying buzz charge through my body, making my breathing stutter and my heart gallop wildly.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing," Rose replies, placing a hand on my shoulder. Leaning down, she presses a kiss to my cheek. Oddly, it feels weird, like a prickling needle erupting underneath my flesh. I gasp, pulling away and holding a hand to my cheek as if it'll stop the pain.
"I love you, Bella. And I'll see you soon, okay? The rest of the family is waiting for you."
"What in the actual fuck is going on?" I exclaim, whipping around to face her, only to be met with a dark, empty room. I release another curse, shaking my head and bringing a hand up to my forehead.
I must be going crazy; there's no other solution. There's been too much weird shit going on lately, and it's finally driven me up the wall.
Fantastic.
Tearing from my room, I charge down the steps and nearly run into Jasper, who steadies me as I stagger on my feet.
"Whoa, walk much?"
"What in the actual hell is going on here?"
"You're insane. I thought you knew."
"Don't try to subject change, you jerk. Rose is acting weird, this house looks weird, and I feel weird," I rant, massaging my throbbing temple with one hand while the other waves wildly through the air. The tingling sensation in my skin ripples, the shock of it taking my breath away. I gasp, closing my eyes and wait a moment. After a few minutes, it passes. "And everything is just weird."
He tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?" he pauses, pulling me into a tight hug, his voice weak and cracking. "You're gonna be fine. And I won't tell them your secret, okay? I'm … sorry you're going through this. I'm sorry this had to happen this way."
Pushing him away, I take a step back, holding out my hands. "Stop that shit! First Rose and now you? What's going on? Why do you keep telling me I'm going to be fine?"
Jasper shrugs a shoulder, jerking his chin toward the living room. I follow closely behind, casting a glance around for my parents and Rose, but none of them can be found.
"You know what's going on, Bella. Just … stay here, for now, okay? In this house. You'll be fine soon enough."
"Stop it!" I roar, my voice echoing through the house. "Just cut it out and tell me what's going on. Now."
He looks away, his serene gaze focused on something out the window. Slowly, his face transforms; gone is the flushed, pink skin and in its place is a chalky pallor. His red-rimmed eyes carry dark shadows underneath them, telling me he's not as okay as he's trying to appear.
"Jasper— "
Without warning, he leans toward me, his hand darting out toward mine, but he pulls it back with a grimace. "I know you're hurting, Bella. But it'll be fine soon. Three days, I think. Or less, if you're like Aunt Renee." He laughs, but there's no humor behind it. "Just … be okay. And come back. Our lives will fall apart without you, you know. Nothing will be the same."
Charging forward, I get as close as I can to his face. "What are you talking about? Answer me! Why the cryptic death-talk?! I'm not dying! I'm right here!"
Jasper takes a step back, and I choke as I see his face rapidly switch between normal and sickly looking in the span of a minute.
Blindly, I walk backward and run into something hard but pliable. "Whoa, there, kid. Don't knock me down; I'm liable to break a hip at my age," Dad jokes, stepping around me and into the room, where he heads for his favorite recliner.
"You're not that old," I murmur.
"Well, thanks. I'd be younger if you kids were better behaved," he says with a laugh.
"Keep telling yourself that," Jasper tells him, lightly nudging Dad's knee with his foot. "You'd be old no matter what."
Dad huffs. "You're all so stressful! But I love you anyway; besides, having you around allows me to get away with a lot of crap. Something goes wrong; I just blame it on one of you."
False outrage floods Jasper's face. He jumps forward, pointing an accusing finger at Dad. "I knew you did that! Everyone was telling me— "
Faintly, I hear the distant murmur of voices, like a buzzing in my ear. I tune out the argument Jasper and Dad are having, walking slowly through the house as I try to find the source of the noise. The more I concentrate on it, the more my flesh seems to sting, and the pain in my head pounds harder.
I stagger backward, nearly knocking over the small table near the front door, my hands fumbling for the glass bowl where the mail is kept. As my vision blurs and spins, the fragile piece of glass slips from my fingers, dropping to the floor.
Surprisingly, it doesn't break. It sits upright as if it had been placed there.
Blinking rapidly, I reach forward with a shaking hand, my fingertips touching the rim of the bowl. The hollow sound of the rough bottom scratches along the floor, the delicate piece shaking slightly as it shakes before settling once more.
Jasper walks by then, raising an eyebrow at my crouched position near the door.
"I'll see you soon, okay? I love you, Bella."
"What—" he walks toward his room, gently closing the door behind him, leaving only silence.
I attempt to follow him on wobbly legs, his name coming out as a shaky, broken whisper. His door doesn't budge, even though I know it's not locked; the doorknob twists too easily.
Tears of frustration cloud my vision, but they never fall. Instead, they burn my eyes behind their lids, giving me another reason to whimper.
"What is going on?"
Laying my head against the cool wood, I hear that soft murmur of voices once more in the distance. For a moment, I think it's coming from Jasper's room. Laying my ear against the surface, I close my eyes to concentrate, hearing nothing.
When I pull back, I hear it a little louder, the sound seemingly coming from the front door. Slowly, I walk back, feeling my heart pound mercilessly in my chest while my breathing comes in short, shallow bursts through my pursed lips.
Much like with Jasper's door, I lay my head against it, pressing my ear to the wood.
Only this wood isn't cool like I'm used to.
It's hot.
Burning hot.
Jerking, I stagger back, bumping into the table once more, feeling that heat linger on my skin, seeping into my pores as it warms me uncomfortably from the inside out. I fan myself in a vain attempt to cool off, but nothing seems to help.
The murmur of voices I hear coming from the outside are louder now, and vaguely, I can hear my name being called. Taking a half step forward, I ignore the warning throbbing in my head, concentrating on the chaotic noise just beyond the door.
Once again, there's a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I've forgotten something important, but I can't think of it for the life of me.
Deciding to focus on that later, I concentrate on getting closer to the door, swallowing past the tightness in my throat in an effort to hear.
"What's … is … wrong?"
"… she okay?"
"Why is … Bella … like that?"
"Bella, please."
The last voice I hear is the closest and clearest. Pain is etched into syllables spoken, and whoever this person is, they are lost and broken.
"Who's out there? Who are you?!"
I wait for a response but only get those frustrating murmurs once more.
Pissed, I kick at the door, scowling at the chunk of wood. "What do you want? Speak louder, you idiot!"
Leaning closer, I try to make out what's being said, but hands on my shoulders pull me back. I gasp at the sensation, feeling those burning needles penetrate my skin.
He backs off, waving a hand forward.
"Bella," Dad softly says, guiding me toward the living room. "Don't."
"Don't what? What do you know?"
He sits in his recliner, nodding toward the chair closest to his chair. I huff in annoyance, taking my seat and folding my arms over my chest.
"What's going on? What do you know?"
He shrugs a shoulder. "I know what you know."
"What? Cut it out with the damn riddles."
He laughs, his smile partially hidden by his mustache, but I can see it clearly in his sparkling eyes. However, the longer I stare, I notice he looks tired and worn out as if he hadn't slept in days.
"Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine," he tells me, reaching forward for my hand. I jerk it away, not wanting to feel that damn awful prickling feeling again.
"What's going on here? Everyone is acting fucking weird."
He nods. "Yeah, well, it's not ideal circumstances we're in, you know?"
I shake my head, utterly confused. I want to refute his claim and ask him what the hell he's talking about. As far as I know, there's nothing wrong … but the heavy feeling in my gut says otherwise.
"What? Dad? What are you talking about? Where's Mo— "
"Just listen, okay? Just try … hear me."
I nod, watching as he swallows thickly, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. His shoulders slump, and he rubs a hand over his face, his features changing dramatically.
Like Rose and Jasper, he looks haggard and worn down; he's pale, and the skin underneath his eyes is a deep purple. Blinking in surprise, I lurch backward, swallowing past the lump in my own throat, my fingers digging into the sides of the table.
My knuckles turn white as the skin stretches the bone, the tips of my fingers a deep cherry red.
Suddenly, my vision swirls and darkens, transforming our pale blue walls into a deep maroon color with mahogany-colored wooden beams along the ceiling.
Shadows flicker across his face as he looks down on me, his brown eyes glassy and red. My heart thunders in my ears at the change not only in my father's face but the surroundings.
Nothing behind him looks familiar or recognizable, except for the flickering shadows that dance across his skin. Wherever we are, there's a fire nearby, but where?
Where are we? What's going on?
I try to focus on the details of the room behind him, wanting to turn my head to gaze around, but I find I'm unable to do so; my body is forced to remain still by a burning vice, making me immobile and mute.
Again, something nags at the edge of my brain, wanting me to remember what brought me here. I try to focus on it, to put together the pieces of what the hell is happening to me, but my father's voice draws me back.
"Bella, I—I love you," Dad starts, his voice soft and low, like he's telling me a secret. Around us, light dims and brightens, showing the dark, unfamiliar walls before flickering back to my home.
The rapid-fire movement of what I see has my stomach clenching and my vision going blurry. At any moment, I feel like I'm going to puke; I just hope I don't choke on it.
"You'll be safe here," he continues, drawing my attention away from thoughts of me suffering even more. "Your mother and I wanted to have this discussion with you, but I never thought it'd be this soon … but you're gonna be okay. That's all that matters." He pauses, staring at me for a long moment. "Just … listen to the others, okay? Listen to your mother, and don't let her beat herself up, all right?"
Faintly, I hear her voice, but before I can turn to look for her, the room around me changes again, but I don't like the dark maroon walls—no matter how much of a pretty color I think it is.
Here, there's too much pain.
Instead, I focus on the comforting sights of my house. There's not as much pain in there.
With a surprised gasp, I find myself falling off the table as if I were pushed by an unseen hand. My body screams in protest, and I yell in response until my throat burns and feels raw.
Dad sits by nonchalantly, staring at me unblinkingly as he waits for me to be through. With shuddering breaths, I climb back onto the table, glaring at him.
"Thanks for the help. Now, what the hell is going on?! Answer me!" I demand when he makes no effort to reply.
"He'll take good care of you, Bella. I hate to admit it, but he will. He loves you."
At his admission, the skin of my arm tingles, but not in an uncomfortable, painful way. Instead, it's soothing and cold, and I want it all over me.
Seconds later, my unspoken request is answered. The soothing coldness blankets my body front and back, and I sigh in relief, feeling the tension and the uncomfortable buzzing in my muscles ease somewhat.
The pain isn't completely gone, but it's lessened, and I'm extremely grateful.
"Who are you talking about?" I question.
Dad levels me with a look like he knows I'm hiding some kind of secret. However, there's no feigning ignorance and putting my acting skills to use here; I have no genuine idea what—or rather, who—he's talking about.
"Sorry, Dad. I don't—" I cut myself off, spotting my drawing notebook lying next to me out of the corner of my eye as if it had been there all along.
I huff an astonished laugh, shaking my head. "Okay, who's fucking with me? What's going on?"
There's no response, but on some level, I don't expect one. Deep inside, I know I won't get any answers to my questions because maybe I already know them.
It makes me feel completely bat-shit crazy, but I choose to ignore it, telling myself everything is okay, and nothing is weird … even though everything within me is screaming the opposite.
With a shaking hand, I pick up my notebook and stare unblinkingly at the face staring back at me.
It's a familiar face, with a sharp jawline and eyes framed with dark, thick lashes, and even though the drawing isn't colored, I know the color is a deep, golden honey. His hair is a riot of chaos on his head, with strands sweeping left and right, looking like a certified mess, but somehow, he pulls it off.
Then, there are his lips; one corner is lifted higher in a smirk that promises nothing good in all the best ways.
I gasp a name, and for a moment, there's nothing but silence and stillness.
And then, chaos erupts.
A flurry of images pours into my head at an alarming speed. Memories of this person flood my system; what he feels like, sounds like … and even tastes like.
The memory of his lips on mine, his tongue mingling with mine, sets my body aflame in a vastly different way.
I can hear his laugh and his voice, deep and smooth, like velvet.
I can feel his touch on my skin—the cooling tingles and the strange electrical current that flies through me. I can hear his teasing words and joyful laugh, along with his annoying grunts and snarls at my barbs.
Even more, I can see how he looks at me; like I'm a rare delicacy or a shooting star … and it's something I very much enjoy.
The memories of Edward fade away, transitioning into Alice's cheery face and her energetic spirit, bouncing from one area of her house to another. Memories of us exchanging thoughts on our favorite horror movies while we make fun of the really bad ones … and even the low-budget ones we enjoy.
Next comes Emmett, with his childish enthusiasm but fierce need to protect those he considers family. He's big and burly, but despite this, he's not frightening at all. In his eyes, you can see kindness there … something you don't see too often in this world.
Carlisle and Esme's faces filter in my head; their compassion and love for their children, as well as me and my cousins, are abundantly clear. They love and care for those they deem worthy with a fierce passion that can't be matched, except by my own parents.
Vague, distorted memories of Carlisle, standing over me blue scrubs splotched with blood slide in, his eyes dark and filled with worry, looking exhausted and worn. I remember flashes of him now, pleading with me to hang on, to stay alive for my family and friends … and for Edward.
Edward, who was constantly at my side, his hand in mine.
Granted, I didn't see him much, more often than not, lost in the sea of drugs and unconsciousness, but that didn't matter.
I didn't need to see him. He always somewhere nearby, watching over me like the creepy vampire he is … and I knew this because I could feel him. I could feel that humming spark between us buzz through my system whenever he was near … and that was very often.
If I had been able, I would have made a joke about his co-dependency, but that will have to wait for another day.
I remember the pain in his voice as his father told my family I wasn't getting any worse, and I wasn't getting better … that I was just there, but whatever would happen in the future, it didn't appear to be good.
Words that had sealed my fate and sent me here.
… To this fake reality.
And all thanks to Royce fucking King.
Emmett tried to get Rose and me to safety, but the way he grabbed Rose was awkward and caused me to accidentally stumble in front of the car rather than out of its way.
I do not doubt that Rose was his number one target, anyway. If he had managed to get us both at once, it would have been an extreme win in his eyes.
I'm happy to have ruined that for him … and if I ever find a way out of here, I'm going after him first.
"Oh," I mumble, dropping the notebook to the ground as more memories flood my system.
… Memories of my mother, who had bitten me but couldn't control her bloodlust and tried to kill me.
Carlisle, who had tackled my mother, holding her at bay so she wouldn't be able to finish the job she started.
Edward, who had bitten me again, sealing my wounds with his venom.
… Edward, who had turned me.
When I look up, my father is no longer there.
The house is silent and calm, the complete opposite of what I'm feeling on the inside. Swallowing thickly, I rise on shaking legs, slowly moving through the lower level of my house. I'm honestly amazed, and a little bit freaked out over everything I've learned.
Okay, a lot freaked out.
I pause, shaking my head, wondering why I'm lying to myself.
I'm majorly fucking freaked out.
A short burst of laughter leaves me as I sink onto the floor in front of the stairs, scrubbing my face with my hands.
What does all this mean?
Am I dead—still burning alive from the transformation?
Completely insane?
"Everything will be okay, baby girl. Come back to us," Mom says, kneeling next to me.
Jerking back, I mutter a curse. "What the hell, Mom?"
She smiles, though it's not one of happiness or amusement. It's filled with guilt and pain, and grief. The same smile she had plastered on her face when Aunt Lillian and Uncle Jack died.
"This is all my fault," she whispers. "If I hadn't bitten you, if I hadn't have taken so much blood— "
"Mom, it's okay. It's not your fault."
Shaking her head in denial, I know she's going to argue this fact, but I won't let her ignore me. She was trying to help; it's not her fault she pushed herself too far. I won't let her think I'm upset with her.
It's true; there are still some things I wanted to experience, but what's done is done.
Besides, now I can experience new and exciting things as a kickass vampire.
Reaching out, I take her hand and squeeze, but as soon as I do, everything around me goes dark.
I can sense someone—or maybe multiple—someone's around me, but no matter how much I will it, I can't open my eyes or even move.
Terrific.
"Is she dea—okay?" I hear Mom ask; her tone filled with dread and sadness. It sounds strange, almost lighter and more musical than it did before.
"I don't know," Edward replies, a touch of frustrated agony in his tone. If I thought Mom's sounded different, then his definitely does; it's deep and rich, with a touch of a softness that gives away he's not really from this era.
It's an air of polite stiffness I've heard from movies.
I never detected it before now.
Behind me, I can feel his body shift as he places a hand over my chest, where my heart used to beat. "It's all dark and silent like normal. I don't know … her heart isn't beating, but she hasn't opened her eyes. She hasn't moved."
There's a long silence as his words hang heavily in the air, the implications jarring and a little bit frustrating.
I want to shout that I'm here and okay, but no sound comes out; I can't even move.
Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could; my body feels heavy and weighted as if something is holding me down.
My throat flares wildly, dry and parched and severely uncomfortable.
My first reaction is that perhaps I'm getting sick, but then I remember everything that happened.
I'm a vampire now.
I won't get sick or hurt, not like I used to.
"I took too much blood," Mom says, tears in her voice. "Something went wrong; I know it."
Edward sighs, his cool breath wafting across my face and causing my hair to drift softly across my collarbone.
A low squeak emits from somewhere in the room, followed by heavy footfalls that creep closer to me.
"Renee, why don't you go hunt?" the newcomer requests.
Carlisle.
It's soft and gentle but with an air strength.
"I don't think— "
"When Bella wakes, you'll need to be at full strength in case she doesn't handle things well."
There's a moment of hesitation before she acquiesces, and I feel her hand sweeping my hair back before she kisses my forehead.
A flurry of movement follows her gesture, and then the silence returns.
But not for long.
"I'd say the same to you, but I know you won't move," Carlisle says.
"You'd be right."
Carlisle sighs, and the sound of skin brushing against skin fills the air. "Edward, you can't starve yourself."
"Something went wrong, Carlisle," Edward says, ignoring his father's remark. "She's been silent and still for too long."
"Some people take longer to— "
"Six days?" he interrupts angrily. "It's been six days; three since her heart last beat. There's been three days of her silent and still … not moving or breathing. She's just … here."
"Edward— "
"She looks like us," he continues. A second later, I feel the tip of his finger softly tracing the features of my face. "Her skin is as hard as ours and her eyes— "he pauses, and there's a sudden onslaught of light as he lifts one of my eyelids. "Her eyes are red. By all the usual standards, she's a vampire; I can smell the venom in her system; my venom." He pauses again, and I feel his lips dance over mine for a moment before he pulls away. "But she's not here. She's not awake."
"Son, by your own words, Bella isn't normal. She might require more time, that's all. Everything she's been through … it's been a lot to process. Even you have to admit that."
I feel Edward move, and then his breath as he softly exhales when he releases a light laugh. "Yeah, she doesn't make anything easy. This definitely isn't any different."
"You should hunt, Edward," Carlisle tells him again after a moment. "You need to feed."
My throat flares at the words, my body itching at the thought of sustenance. I feel something stirring within me, an unnatural urge to move and devour.
Even though I feel the muscles in my arms and legs vibrating, I can't find the energy in me to move. It's almost as if they were made of lead. It's annoying as all hell, especially with my throat burning just as wildly as my body had when I was first bitten.
There's a long, lengthy pause as Edward stiffens, his hold on me tightening briefly as he shifts.
I wish I could open my eyes to see what he's doing, but I'm out of luck on that one too.
"I'm not leaving her side," Edward replies, his tone distracted.
When his father responds, it's full of reprimand and exhaustion. "Edward, you're being stubborn. You'll need your strength when she awakens."
Edward doesn't respond verbally; he growls, low and dangerous.
A warning.
Carlisle says nothing more for a long moment, and if I didn't know any better, I'd swear he'd left.
However, my hearing seems sharper and louder, so I know that's not the case.
"Save your breath," Edward snaps. "I'm not going without her."
"You'll go now, or I'll make you. It's been almost a week since you've fed. Go. Now."
Someone pounds into the room, the force of this person's steps shaking the floor.
"Bro, come on. You need to hunt. A nice juicy mountain lion will help," Emmett says, his normally jovial tone serious.
Edward's response is short but to the point, signaling finality. "No."
"Fine. I'll just bring you something back; let's see how long you last with fresh blood in the room."
His footsteps pound against the floor again, sending booming shocks throughout my body as the structure I'm lying on shakes violently.
"Actually, that … might be a good idea," Edward murmurs.
"What? Edward, you can't feed in here. There's too many of us around; you know it won't be a good idea, especially with you."
I'm immensely curious about Carlisle's statement, wondering firstly what feeding and having his family around have in common. It sounds as if the two won't be a good mix, but why?
Second, I want to know what the "especially with you" comment means.
But since I'm frozen and mute, they're questions that will go unanswered.
… For now.
"What if she needs blood? What if there was too much blood loss and she can't … come out of her mind? Remember when I told you she pulled me into her head when she was in the hospital? What if that's what happened when she was turning? We all know the pain is excruciating; what if she found relief in her head? That could have been why she was so silent and still."
Carlisle hums in response, and the sound of pacing again follows shortly. "It's possible. I've never known anyone to be so still and quiet during their change. It's very possible she did escape … It must have been draining for her to use such power when she was human. It could have weakened her, keeping her locked inside her own head."
"Tell Emmett to hurry," Edward demands.
Carlisle murmurs in agreement, and Edward shifts again, his lips pressing onto my cheek. "Don't worry, Bella. I'll help you … this has to work. It has to."
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And I hope it made sense!
Stay safe!