My first attempt at E-POV. Hang on people, it's going to be a bumpy ride...
Beta's by Arizona Hale and Pre-read by Kitty
E
Crystal clear memories race through his mind-
"I don't know how you can stand it, being around them all the time," Nahuel says. "It's not natural. Vampires are supposed to have HUMAN blood. It can't be comfortable for you…"
"We don't mind," I say. "It's really not that big of a deal."
"Right," he scoffs.
…
"We try not to stay in highly populated areas for very long. The high kill count would raise too much suspicion. Why do you think newborn armies are so easy to locate?"Huilen explains, as she brushes her black hair.
I turn to Miri. "How do you feel about it?"
She shrugs. "We have to do what we have to do," she says, quoting Nahuel. I don't miss the hint of distaste in her tone. She doesn't have to say it, I already know: She hates this.
….
"Protect them," the wizened old man says to me. He leans towards me from his dusty old armchair, knotted hands clutching the armrests with strength surprising for his age. "It's the son's duty to protect the mother and the brother's duty to protect the sister when the father is gone." He looks to Reni, still asleep in her stroller, the cover pulled over so she can have some protection from the sun, then to mom, still busy at the counter, making the drinks. Her back is to us, long brown hair in a tight bun, wearing a light blue sundress. She makes to turn-
EDWARD, WE HAVE TO STOP HIM!
Alice's silent shriek rips my focus away from the boy and draws me back to her. Body taut with terror, she lets her most recent vision overtake her mind; a burning field, the scent of ash wafting through the air. Black cloaked figures tossing chunks of marble body parts into red-orange infernos. To my horror, I recognize the butchered body parts as those of my family's.
It's still patchy in some areas, but I think we've just found the cause. She tilts her head towards the boy, still listening to his friend's explanation of who we are. I can't see his future…, her internal voice whispers worriedly, not directly at least. But I can see ours if we stick to inaction. Her apocalyptic vision dances through her mind yet again.
"Inaction to what?" I ask firmly, ignoring Rosalie, Emmett, and Jaspers confused gazes.
She grits her teeth as a small growl escapes her throat. Her eyes dart to the imbeciles sitting a few tables away from us.
"Those idiots are planning on starting another fight with the sophomores. I can't see the boy's immediate future, but I can see glimpses of the aftermath." It's not good, Edward. He's going to inadvertently kill them, she continues in her mind, to my utter disbelief.
"What are you two talking about?" Emmett asks, he and Rosalie watching our heated exchange warily. On Alice's left, Jasper tries to calm everyone down, his gift set into overdrive in response to his mate's stressed demeanor.
"The new boy knows what we are," I hiss, and just like that, mind-freezing astonishment and alarm violently replaces their detached aloofness. They lean in closer, thoughts bombarding me with question after question before I murmur quickly, "He's sitting behind me, at the closest sophomore table to us." They look. This time my head fills with their incredulous thoughts as they get their first glimpses of him.
Impossible.
Jesus, he looks just like-
What the hell is going on?
"I don't know," I say through clenched teeth, as Rosalie glares daggers at the impossibly familiar boy. Her efforts are futile. He's too engrossed in his friend's explanation to notice.
Adopted siblings? Of course, how convenient. That explains the pairings. And yet people don't notice how even though they're not related, they all have the same golden eyes? How stupid are these humans?
"He sees past our cover story," I report, under my breath, "…. and is familiar with the bond between mates. We're not the first vampires he's met." He's looking at us again, mind still trying to figure out why we're here. I don't turn around.
No. Way. It's like a frickin' replay man…
That settles it then, we have to take him out, Jasper concludes, cold resolve cementing in his mind.
"How could he know?" Emmett asks me, flabbergasted, unaware of Jasper's internal decision. He looks to Alice then back to me, expecting an answer.
"It doesn't matter how he knows," Rosalie interjects angrily. She tosses another look at the boy, eyes narrowing. "The fact is, he knows way too much." She lets her cold implication hang in the hot, stuffy air, like a rotting corpse from a tree.
"We left her alive," Alice reminds her. And if she makes one more jibe about Bella I swear to god I'm going to rip her hair out right here and now.
"And look at the mess that caused."
An angry hiss escapes my throat and Alice's before we can stop ourselves. She makes to rise from her seat but Jasper sends out a wave of calm that effectively placates her for the time being.
"He's just a kid," Emmett says to her, regrettably.
"It's to protect us all," Jasper instead answers, clasping Alice's hand on top of the table. His expression softens at her conflicted face. "…This isn't the same situation," he murmurs to her, "you know that."
"No. It's worse."
"What do you mean?"
She makes eye contact with me and I nod. She turns back to them, pausing for a second, before answering, "I saw a vision of him killing-"
Boisterous laughter booms throughout the air. A whoosh of air wafts past our table, the scent of human blood thick and tantalizing, though the burn in my throat is nothing. I turn in my seat to watch the procession of immature brats saunter over to the sophomore area and begin their ill-disguised hazing of the younger population.
"Shit! It's starting,"Alice moans.
I'm vaguely aware of the creaking of the chairs as the rest of my family joins me in watching the scene unfold. I already know what he looks like, thanks to his friends mildly interested gazes, but my mind still reels at the sight of him. He looks so much like her…
His profile is the only view of him available to us; Untamed, rich, dark brown hair complements a thin, heart-shaped face. He's tall, too tall to be mistaken for a freshman. However, the sharp contours of his bone structure are clear hallmarks of one going through the physical transition from boy to man. He must be at least a sophomore. Junior, maybe, but that would be reaching.
His features are somewhat vampiric: beneath the white cotton of his long-sleeve I can make out the shape of his arms and back muscles: strong and powerful, despite his young age. Meanwhile, dark purple circles under his eyes are brought out by his milk white skin, adding to his allure, if the thoughts of the surrounding female sophomores are any indication.
But then there are the key differences: his wide, emerald green eyes, still trying to hide the interest his mind betrays as he listens to his friend, and the faint twinge of red in his cheeks. And most of all, his heart beat, slightly faster than normal, but beating, no doubt: Alive.
He has to be human. A very handsome human, but human nonetheless. How many have I seen with the same purple shadows under their eyes, exhausted from whatever trivial pursuit they've subjected themselves to?
Okay. So they've been here for about a year, and the bronze-haired one just came back this year….. Christ, why the hell would anyone want to play this charade over and over? It's infuriating enough the first time around…Should I leave or stay? Call home or wait it out? Fuck! What the hell are the odds of this happening? Why are they here? What the hell am I supposed to do? Panic, confusion, and indecision laces his mental monologue, mounting with each passing second, making his mind zip from thought to thought, memory to memory at such an abnormally rapid rate I can no longer discern clearly what he is thinking.
I look away, pulling out of his mind in the process. Sighing Rosalie rests her head in her palm, propping her arm up by her elbow.
I can't believe this she whines. Here, of all places…will we ever get any peace? she trails off. Her mind continues on with her litany of frustration and resentment, but I hear none of it as Alice's vision creeps back into my consciousness and reminds me of why we cannot just simply wait out the rest of the school day and then attack.
"They have to be related," Emmett says, comparing the two in his mind. Besides the eye color, they could be twins, he reasons. I shake my head. The logic that is stirred from the bowels of my mind is adamant.
"She wasn't lying when she said her parents were her only immediate family. And no distant relative would have that much of a resemblance to her. It has to be a coincidence." And God's way of tormenting me, I think to myself wryly.
Yet…what are the odds of meeting a child, almost the same age, virtually identical, and as dangerously observant and knowledgeable as Bella? Here? Not even a decade after that appalling day?
"Who is he going to kill?" Jasper asks, eyes locked on the boy again, still remembering my interrupted report from before.
"Brent Clark and his idiotic friends," I tell him. "They bullied the information that the boy is a new student out of one of the office aides, so now they want to haze him. He's not going to take it well." As I say this, the voices at the sophomore table raise an octave, signaling the beginning of the chain of events that will end with slaughter.
"Bastards," Alice mutters, eyes shut tight as she massages her temple.
Rosalie slams her fist against the table top. "Why should that matter to us?" She turns to me, eyes on fire. "And what are you talking about? He's going to kill them here? Right now?"
"Yes."
She conveys her frustration, anger and exasperation in a rough, animalistic snarl that thankfully nobody hears.
"Well this is just fucking perfect. Thousands of miles away and her presence still follows us, one way or another." I'm not fooled by her acidic rant. Her mind truly is a shallow pool, with self-denial and selfishness floating on its clear surface; after all this time, she's still bitter about my preference for a human over her. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
"…like history repeating itself."
"You're joking right?" Emmett asks me, while his wife goes on with her rant, disbelief dominating his face. I shake my head. His eyes widen in alarm. He opens his mouth, but Jasper beats him to the punch.
" How?" he asks, eyes still trained on the boy.
"I don't know," Alice answers, before I can. "I'm still just seeing the aftermath. It looks like…he cuts them to pieces. But given the time frame and how clean the wounds are….that's impossible…"
"Whoa, whoa, what-"
It's always something. Fuck my life, the boy thinks to himself bitterly, as he stares up at a sadistically smirking face with contempt and barely concealed impatience. From his friends worried gazes, I can see that he's standing now, the hulk of testosterone-filled buffoons surrounding him. He's trying to leave, but Brent stands obnoxiously in his way, knowing full well what he's doing. Annoyance rolls off of the boy in waves.
"It's going to be accidental, I can ascertain that much," Alice mutters. "Can't you feel it? The power? It's practically radiating off of him." And I can. To the humans, it feels as though an invisible force is gently caressing their bodies, like a breeze, making the hairs on their arms stand up. My family's uneasiness mounts. Their thoughts become synonymous:
What is he?
"Their deaths will bring the Volturi here, and we'll be blamed," Alice whispers, eyes fixed on the boy. "Certain things I still can't see, but this situation, if we don't intervene now…we'll be signing our own death warrants." At her words, the rest of my sibling's faces grow, if possible, whiter.
"Alright, so we prevent the fight, then take care of him after school," Emmett reasons after a long pause. He sits upright, flexing his back muscles.
"It's not that simple," Alice grits, eyes scrunching up into little slits of pain even as her fingertips continue to rub her temple. Jasper scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her petite form. She curls into him, finding comfort, her thoughts filling with appreciation towards him… and the string of Germany's national anthem in Cantonese.
"Alice, what are you hiding?" She doesn't answer. Jasper sends out a wave of calm, melting my frustration like a block of ice, though ineffective against my resolve. She avoids my eyes, shaking her head as the song in her head switches to Arabian.
"ALICE!"
She flinches, externally and internally, and I finally get a peek of what she's shielding from me.
It's not what I expect. I almost don't believe it. I lean back in my chair, shutting my eyes tight, trying to will everything away.
"I can't see you actually killing the boy," she continues, quietly. "But I can see its aftermath. Or rather, glimpses of it." She draws up the full image in her mind: Me, in a marble hall, before the three brothers, eyes empty and black. The same cloaked figures as before are now behind me, grabbing my arms and arching my neck back. Bared teeth. Growls. The sounds of ripping metal.
I pull out of her mind. I don't know what to make of this. Confusion? Fear?
In just a matter of minutes, this boy has single-handedly turned my barely stable world upside down. No, not upside down. Torn it apart, completely. Another thing he seems to have in common with the girl he so hauntingly resembles.
God, why are you doing this to me?
As if channeling my inner angst, Alice groans and slumps against the table top.
"It's like…like watching a movie with all the scenes containing the main character deleted, until all that's left is a plot that makes no sense," she mumbles. She sits up as the verbal abuse from the sophomore area arouses laughter and jeers from the crowd, and turns to me, golden eyes hard.
"If he dies, so will you."
As the rest of my siblings sit, thunderstruck, I stare numbly back at her. She stares back, and for the first time, true, blind, uncertainty and fear, fear for me, dominates her thoughts. The confidence brought on by her visions has been extinguished, like a candle left out in the rain. Jasper inhales a breath of air to center himself, a common habit of his before unleashing a particularly concentrated dose of calm.
He stops mid-inhale, and looks back to the sophomores, bewildered. "He smells odd," Jasper mutters, his nostrils flaring as he sniffs the boys strange scent again. I've noticed it as well. Dark chocolate mixed with the rough scent of smoke; bitter, yet subtle and rustically pleasing. Nostalgic, even. The scent triggers previously forgotten memories of mine to resurface, memories of cozy afternoons indoors as rain pelts my Chicago home, the mixed scents of melting chocolate from the stove and cigarette smoke from the living room blending into a sweet, yet masculine aroma. It's a mocking contrast to the current situation. A fond tidbit of my human life is now a marker of our possible destruction.
"He smells pleasing…but not appetizing," Jasper whispers to himself. He uses his power to reach out to the boy, trying to gauge his mood.
He feels nothing.
Confusion and fear permeates his normally level-headed mind. After a few more attempts, he finally comes to an eerie conclusion: He cannot feel the boy's emotions. This realization leaves him in a rare state of panic. "It's like he's not even there," he mutters to himself. How can this happen? First Alice, now me. We lock eyes. Edward, can you read his mind?
Before I can answer, Alice jolts out of her seat, hands clutching the edges of our table.
"We don't have much time," she breathes. Her eyes are partially unfocused, her mind still searching the censored future. "We'll have to act fast." I'd say in about two minutes Edward. You and Emmett should go. Jazz can stay here with us and stop his friends from interfering. It'll look too suspicious if we all throw ourselves in, and if blood is spilled… . She watches Jasper from the corner of her eye.
"What do you think guys? Should we teach the new kid some manners?" Brent stares down at the boy, a sadistic grin on his face as his mind conjures ways he can humiliate his newest victim. His friend's rumble of agreement is like the start signal to our suddenly desperate task.
He, however, does not cower or show any indication of submission. Quite the opposite: He stands his ground, black rage born out of frustration, panic, and annoyance practically oozing out of his every pore. His fists ball so tightly that I expect the bluish veins to burst out of his chalk-white skin.
Don't take the bait. C'mon Tony, just sit and keep your head down, Cole Maxwell silently pleads as he anxiously watches the stand-off before him.
Fuck! I don't have time for this….have to get out of here… I try to sink deeper into his mind, but am met with a problem even more disconcerting than before; his memories have melted into a indiscernible mess of disjointed shapes, bleeding into each other like a ruined water color painting while his internal monologue has become a shrill, incomprehensible death metal scream. It overwhelms my mind, and a new sensation is born, something I haven't felt in over one hundred years: nausea.
"Get the fuck out of my way," he snarls to Brent.
"Ooh, temper, temper."
A minute and forty two seconds Edward!
The seniors have cocooned him in their circle now, cutting off any chance of escape. The action is eerily familiar. A certain night in Port Angeles rears to the forefront of my mind before I can stop it.
I make my decision in a heartbeat.
"Emmett, restrain the boy," I say to my brother, as I rise out of my seat. "I'll handle Brent. Jasper, calm everyone down once we arrive and Emmett has him." Understanding sparks in Alice's eyes.
I start walking, Emmett a step behind, as Alice informs Rosalie and Jasper my intentions.
Aww yeah, it's goin' down now, Emmett mentally crows in delight, needlessly cracking his knuckles.
"Focus," I snap, as Brent starts shoving the boy, to the amusement of his friends.
"So what're ya gonna do about it, huh pretty boy? Cry to your sister? Jackson works in the office and got a glimpse of her Friday, apparently she's a hot piece of ass. Maybe if she pays me a visit I'll consider leaving you alone-"
The single sound of a balled fist colliding with chest muscle and bone reverberates in my perfect ears, and for a moment time seems to slow down. I watch from the astounded eyes of the crowd as the force of the boy's -Tony's- punch knocks the wind out of Brent and sends him staggering backwards into an empty table with a screeching crash. Five long seconds pass, feeling more like hours, and Tony's rage-filled face falters as the realization of what he's done sinks in. Brent's friends snap out of their shock and swarm in like vicious beasts, full of outrage and foolish bravado
We hurry. Through the gaps in the mob, I see his form: oddly secure, despite the attempts to tackle him to the ground and the flurry of fists that pummel his body. My curiosity and astonishment rises. From the thoughts of his assailants, I can see that their brutish punches, pushes, and tugs are doing negligible damage, though they don't notice, being so caught up in their adrenalin-filled rush.
All are oblivious to the growing danger. I don't have to be a mind reader to see that the boy is holding something back. With each tug and punch to his stiff body, I see in his eyes his rationality slipping away piece by piece. An all-too-familiar animalistic spark lurks behind his pupils, a spark that screams bloodlust and savagery itching to be released amongst the lambs. He is truly a predator on the verge of going rabid.
It's obvious now, I should have noticed it before, but I was too arrogant to even entertain the possibility; He's not normal, not in the least.
"Holy hell, he was holding back!"Emmett exclaims mirthfully, as we waste no more time and rush into the crowd. The humans recognize our presence and shy away from us, allowing a wide berth, in part due to Emmett's size. Quickly, we reach the mock arena and put the plan into action; Jasper's mixed wave of paralyzing shock, awe and aversion descends on the surrounding seniors. They react to his gift and back away, melting into the part of the crowd nearest to Brent, where he's still leaning against the table trying to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Emmett encases Tony in the cage of his powerful arms from behind, much to his surprise and panic.
I stride over to Brent, ignoring the hushed murmurings and frustrated grunts of Tony and Emmett as he tries to break out of Emmett's iron-clad hold. In no time, Brent and I are face to face, my form blocking his view of Tony.
"What the fuck, Cullen?"
He's still nursing his bruised chest as we stare each other down.
Since when does emo-kid play super hero? he thinks, grumpily.
"This ends now. Leave him alone." His eyes narrow at me, anger and embarrassment making his face flush crimson. As he makes up his mind on what to say, he ignores the instinctive impulse to heed my warning, and lets his childish need to prove himself in front of his peers overtake what little common sense he has.
"Or what?" he scoffs in an attempt to repair his fractured ego. "You'll beat me in a spelling contest? Tell your fake daddy? Get the fuck out of here. This is between me and…that… little…" His voice begins to go weak as I lock onto his pale blue eyes and take a step closer, letting my contempt darken and twist my features until there's nothing left but the monster my inhuman beauty hides. He finally allows his subconscious to govern his reactions and shrinks into himself, his hands grasping the table behind him, the natural fear my species presence invokes overwhelming his pathetic mind. Behind him, his friends fidget and grumble nervously, sensing their leader's fright.
Holy shit! Fucking freak….
I smell his fear. It mingles with his expensive cologne and perspiration like the finishing touches of a decadent dessert, and I welcome it. For the first time in years, I feel as though I have a purpose. I can be of some use, and that knowledge in itself is almost enough to numb the ever- present heart-ache that has become my constant companion in this wretched half life I've condemned myself to.
The whelps labored breathing draws me back to the present. In my dark reveling, I've unconsciously taken another step forward. Our noses are inches apart, his shallow, putrid breaths invading my enhanced olfactory senses with vestiges of his disgusting lunch. I speak so only he can hear.
"Leave him alone," I hiss, and watch in satisfaction as the black dots of his pupils dilate and the pace of his heart speeds in his bruised chest. "Or you will wish I let him take you on. Your choice."
DAMMIT EDWARD…shit…CUT THE DRAMATICS AND HURRY UP! Kid…fucking…strong….what the…..hell…..is…his mother…FEEDING HIM? Emmett grunts as Tony continues to thrash against him. I'm about to turn around and assist him when the mental voices of the adults register in my consciousness. I take a step back from Brent, who's still paralyzed with fear. To my right, the crowd parts for a second time as Principal Dwight enters the circle, along with Mr. Allen and a several members of the campus security.
"What's going on in here?" he asks authoritatively. He looks to me and Brent, then to Tony and Emmett behind us, his eyes widening a fraction when he realizes what has just happened.
I wouldn't expect this from the Cullens. "You four." He gestures to all of us in the circle. "-Fifth floor, right now." He signals for the incompetent security behind him and they immediately rush past him and surround us, separating and forcing us into single file.
Dude, this has to be the weirdest day we've had since Bella and Forks…. Emmett comments wryly. As one of the guards urges Emmett forward with a push of his hand, he continues. I think that kid has a fever. This narc's temperature is nothing compared to his. His skin felt like fire…He does look a bit sick, doesn't he?
I knew that punk was a bad seed, Mr. Allen scoffs.
Those idiots are lucky they're in the playoffs…
And of course, this has to happen the day I bring my favorite meatloaf for lunch…
It's always Clark. Christ, when is Harold going grow some balls and expel that smug brat?
"I've already called Carlisle and Esme," Alice silently tells me, as the campus officers usher Emmett, Brent, Tony and I out of the cafeteria. They escort us in silence through the hallway and up the stairwell while Principal Dwight leads the way and Mr. Allen takes the rear.
So what's the next move? Emmett asks behind me as we trudge up the stairs.
"Alice has already informed Carlisle and Esme," I whisper to him, too low for the humans to hear. "Do nothing for now."
At the bottom, Tony is frantic with panic and anger, his mind still racing at an impossibly alarming rate. I'm about to search for Alice when a small slice of coherent thought slips out of the jumbled mess that is his mind. What I hear makes my jaw drop in shock.
The big one told me he wasn't going to hurt me….goddamn liar. What the hell does he call 'taking care of me' after school? The other one mentioned two other people…. Shit, that means there are seven of them…..
He heard me. He heard me. And not just me, I realize as I strain to listen further; his frantic inner-monologue reveals that he has heard at least forty percent of our conversation in the cafeteria, specifically our plans on how to deal with him.
What is he? A gifted human? Something else?
At our arrival, they place each of us into separate classrooms, and just when I think I can't be taken off guard anymore today, Alice's mental voice reaches me from the cafeteria:
We were wrong. I don't know how, but we were. Either Bella lied to us about her family or she simply doesn't know about him….Edward, his name is Tony Swan.
B
"Attention customers. All Sci-fi purchases are currently fifty percent off from now until the twenty fifth-" the aged intercom system cheerfully dictates from the ceiling. I roll my eyes, smiling to myself. I look back down to my daughter, her eyes expectant and slightly impatient.
"I want to read it," she says, arching her head back to stare up at me.
"Be my guest." I smile down to her. She turns to the first page and begins to read aloud:
"Once upon a time there were four little rabbits, and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. They lived with their Mother in a sand-bank, underneath the root of a very big-"
The ringing of my cell phone interrupts Reni's narration. I pull it out of my pocket, Reni eying it with disdain, and examine the caller I.D. P.R.U.S.D-Oakdale High School.
Tony. No, not again. With a sigh, I press talk and hold the phone to my ear, shutting my eyes tight, hoping that this isn't what I think it is.
"Hello?"
"Hello, am I speaking to the…." She pauses, and in the background I hear the hurried ruffling of papers, "…..sister of Anthony Swan?"
"Yes, this is she."
"You're his legal guardian?" I hear a hint of disbelief in her tone.
"Yes, I am. What is this regarding?" I already know what she's about to say, but it's still a heavy blow, nonetheless.
"Your brother was involved in an altercation with several other students today at lunch. We'll need you to come down to the school and speak with his Vice Principal, Mr. Fallows. He'll be on the fifth floor, room 24E."
"I'm eight blocks away and not in possession of a car. It may take a while…" I tell her.
"I'll be sure to tell them that," she sighs in exasperation. I hang up the phone, disappointment and helplessness filling my gut, until I feel almost…faint.
"What's wrong Momma?"my daughter asks, turning around. Her wide, innocent brown eyes search my face. I hug her close to my chest.
"Your brother got into a fight at school," I tell her. Her eyes widen in surprise.
"But… it's his first day!" she exclaims.
"Yes, it is, which is why when we see him he's going to be in very big trouble. I'm sorry sweetie, the school wants to talk to me about it right now. We'll have to finish the book another time."
Disappointment darkens her face, her shoulders slumping. "Will it still be here?" she asks me, as we get up off the floor.
"Of course," I assure her.
"Mmhhh," she pouts hesitantly. "Okay."
If I were not so used to her mannerisms I would be caving in at the sight of her. She's too adorable for her own good.
She clasps my hand as we walk past the book shelves and make our exit. I push through the glass doors and lead the way down the sidewalk, the cold, moist air hitting our faces. The streets are filled with cars, the sidewalks with people. I let my mind wander as we snake our way through the crowds.
"This has to stop," I say, voice hard, even as my throat burns from the sweet, delicious aroma of human blood splattered across the t-shirt he wears. He leans against the blank expanse of wall beside his bed, expression sullen, thumbs in his pockets, avoiding my gaze.
"This recklessness you've been practicing isn't a luxury we can afford. When you're of age, you can go wherever you want, do whatever it is you want to do with your life, but until then, you're under my roof and care. I want you to promise me, right now, that you'll stop playing this game."
He lets out a frustrated growl and pushes himself off of the wall, running his red-stained hand through his hair as he paces the small, enclosed space of his room. The action is so reminiscent of his father my breath almost hitches.
No, c'mon, focus. I cast the paralyzing thoughts away, re- planting my mind firmly in the now.
He comes to a stop in front of his detritus-laden bed.
"…Fine….I promise," he says finally, turning to glare at me.
I don't miss the hint of sarcasm in his tone. He's confident that I won't call him out on it.
He's wrong.
I walk up to him, my head reaching his nose.
"I won't tolerate this behavior anymore Anthony." He hiss's at my usage of his full name. "I shouldn't have tolerated it from the beginning, and that's my mistake, but I will not be making it again."His eyes burn with challenge and resentment, mine with authority. I fold my arms, drawing him under my penetrating gaze.
"You talk about wanting to leave, about being on your own, and that you're ready for it. And yet what have you done to show me that this is true, that you're mature enough for that kind of life? Sneaking out, getting into fights, looking for trouble, mayhem… stealing, and for what? Because I chose to move us here? Because you didn't get your way? What you've been doing amounts to the equivalent of a temper tantrum, something a toddler does…How is that mature? Adult?" Minutes pass. A stoic, calm mask replaces his twisted, enraged one. He breaks eye contact, shame burning in his cheeks, and walks over to the expanse of wall near his bed. Leaning back against it, he folds his arms and hangs his head. He takes a deep breath.
"I just don't understand why we had to come here." He looks back up at me, disgust in his eyes. "We're not human, mom, no matter how much you want us to act like we are. I hate this, hate having to play this fucking joke of a life while a war concerning people WE KNOW is happening right under the entire world's nose. He kicks himself off of the wall and sits down on the bed. He plucks a shiny hoop earring out from between the sheets and twirls it around his fingers absentmindedly.
"I can't stand it, pleasing those shithead teachers. What the hell do they know anyway? Dates and grammar rules and how to do equations…and they expect me to give them my respect?"he scoffs to himself angrily.
I sit beside him.
"…I know everything seems unbearable right now, I do. But you have to trust that I know what's best for you-"
A humorless chuckle escapes his lips.
"Of course. That's your answer, isn't it?" he quips sardonically. "Just blindly go along with your lead? Be a good little boy and keep my head down like some frickin lap dog? I'm sure that'll please the faculty…"
"I'm not saying you have to be a teacher's pet, or change who you are. Just, be more careful around them and stop taking stupid, pointless risks."
"Hmmm."
"….It won't always be like this, you know that, right?" He's silent again, examining the fragile gold of the earring between his fingertips with false interest. I place a hand on his shoulder. When he doesn't brush it off, I scoot closer and give him a one-armed hug.
"It'll get better. I promise."
Should I have seen this coming? Doubt takes root and flourishes from my uncertainty, snaking its poisonous tendrils around every reason for moving back to Northern America and devouring them, one by one.
It feels as though I'm at a dead end. My decision to re-immerse ourselves in the modern world has only proven to serve as a catalyst for his volatile behavior, and as Reni and I cross the soaked roads and pass the multitudes of humans, I can't help but think that maybe we should have stayed in South America. Or at least have stayed in hiding somewhere else.
Tony flourishes well under my lessons. In actuality, he probably knows more than his human teachers by this age. Maybe this is a sign that-
Reni's abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk almost causes me to slip and fall backwards onto the wet pavement. Her tiny, mitten-covered hand is clenching mine in a claw-like grip shocking for even a half-vampire her age.
"Reni?" I look down at her. She's staring straight ahead, stiff as a board, her eyes wide with fear and fixed on the intersection in front of us. I recognize the look immediately.
I crouch down until I'm at eye level with her, her mitten-hand still clutching mine. She blinks at me rapidly, on the verge of tears. I cradle her face with my free hand, caressing her cheek with my thumb. Her skin is like fire to me, mine like ice to her, but the action seems to provide some form of comfort, nonetheless.
"It's okay, sweetie. Is it a feeling or a picture? I ask her, ignoring the confused passerby and chilly wind.
She chews her bottom lip and stares at the ground.
"Feeling," she mumbles. She dregs up the memory, and my mind fills with what she felt as we neared the intersection: a foreboding, heart-stopping rush of terror. Alien. I look back at the innocent–looking intersection, cursing myself for not doing a more thorough investigation of the city's mortality history. It does seem to be a busy street. A car accident perhaps? That seemed to be the most likely explanation…
I look back to my daughter and my heart clenches in remorse; her chocolate brown eyes are wide and glassy as she tries to contain the overwhelming, alien emotions she does not understand.
"Oh, it's alright. Come here," I croon softly to her, and I hug her to my chest. Her tiny arms wrap around my neck. Murmuring words of comfort, I lift her up and carry her away from the intersection, away from the shadow of death that has seeped into the drenched pavement like an evil spirit, excreting its poisonous presence out into a world that can no longer acknowledge it.
I walk back towards the bookstore and switch to the opposite side of the street from a previous stop light. Remembering the layout of the city, I easily identify the safest route to take and continue on to the school, Reni still in my arms.
They say time heals all wounds, but I know that's a crock. The biggest in existence. If time healed all wounds, I wouldn't have a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be. Tony wouldn't be tormented by his subconscious whenever he slept. And Reni…I watch her from the corner of my eye. She's hauntingly still, face impassive, her usual, infectious smile wiped from her face.
I hug her closer to me as I trudge on, her rapid heartbeat a constant drum against my silent chest.