RECAP:
Last chapter had some confrontation between Bella and the Cullen's. Everyone except Edward thought she had created an immortal child and she was understandably crushed by their assumption. She almost left, but Edward would have none of that. Finally, she decided that in the end she had to tell them everything. This all happens in the school hallway where Tony attacked Edward in Ch. 7.
Meanwhile, with Tony POV, there was a flashback of when he was hanging out with Miri. In present the day he is still understandably fuming and desperate for answers.
Reni has no idea what the hell is going on. She goes along with Tony's odd behaviour, waiting for him as they sit on a sidewalk bench to pull himself out of whatever rut he's in, and is mildy surprised when he starts asking her if she knows anything about their father. It is revealed at the end of the chapter that she knows something big.
Beta'd and Pre-read by Arizona Hale and Kitty
My apologies for the long wait. If any of you frequent A Different Forest, then you might have caught a campfire yours truly started a couple of weeks ago, bringing to light some recent developments in RL.
Anyway, It's all T-POV...
I close my eyes before the shards can make it into my vision. It's too much— the anger, the confusion, but most of all, the betrayal. They all bind together, hopelessly and irrevocably linked; a triangle alliance that serves only to feed the darkest part of myself. It's the ultimate blow. A sucker punch. The kind that drains your lungs of any air and makes you so fucking sick you dry heave even though you have nothing to up-chuck.
I thought everything was fine, but things changed. A couple of days after my birthday, he told me he was leaving. He couldn't stay with me, it would have just been a lie if he did, for both of us, and he knew that…..I should have known, should have seen it coming from the beginning…
So much happened, it almost feels like an eternity ago, but it wasn't. Not an eternity. Just five years. Five whirlwind years packed with uncertainty and fear, every single little detail perfectly stamped into my memory forever, so I can never forget.
No matter how much I want to.
I open my eyes and tilt my head up to the bland, dark grey sky. The familiar shards greet me, shimmering brightly, but I ignore them, forcing myself to look down at the ground instead. My fingers twitch. I grab onto the bench seat again.
Why? And how? How could she even consider doing that? The urge to pulverize rock and stone makes my nails burn. I just want to break something, anything, fuck the consequences.
"Can we go now?" Reni whines to me. "It's getting too dark." Silently, I get up and take her hand, smoothly pulling her off the bench. I walk us back to the light post, ignoring her silent questions. We blend into the crowd of humans as we cross the street, the burn in my throat another reminder that I need to hunt, and of course, another reminder of what I can't do right now.
I can't take it anymore. I just want it all to stop, to not feel anything: the burn in my throat, the pulsing rage threatening to implode inside of me, but most of all, the doubt, the tiny drop of poison that has already tainted everything I've come to know and believe and trust.
But since when was it about what I want?
I swallow hard as I watch the humans walking by us; business men and women in their dark trench coats, Soccer moms walking their rat-sized dogs, teenagers complaining about their parents and the misery of their suburban lives. Just being near them makes the fire in my throat turn into an all-out inferno. The usual response is there, the familiar voice that talks down the urge to give in to raw, primal instinct, but today it just doesn't seem to cut it. I can smell the blood. Almost taste it on my tongue, feel it gushing down my throat.
Just let go, the beast whispers silkily. I'm not even surprised anymore by how quickly it re-affirms its presence. I don't fight it, despite what it's ultimately saying. The burn increases. I grind my teeth, and yet, only the beast's words seem to take my mind off of it—along with everything else. Not much. But enough to make me want more—silence, peace of mind, numbness.
Oblivion.
Your hunting instincts will cancel it all out…the memories, the emotions. Everything. And not only that; the burn will be gone. You remember the taste. Animal blood may sustain you, but it just doesn't have that edge, does it?
No, it doesn't. I lick my lips unconsciously. I swallow again, and can almost feel the beast running its claws down the walls of my throat.
This is crazy and you know it, the voice of reason says. These are living, breathing people with lives of their own. And what about the Volturi? You remember what HE said; they're always watching. They'll know.
So what? The beast challenges spitefully. He grips my trachea. My heart starts to race. I silently try to suck in more air through my mouth before realizing too late my mistake. Their scents settle on my tongue, teasing me, tickling the back of my throat and making my teeth ache with the urge to sink into soft, smooth flesh. My eyes lock onto the pulse–points on our companion's necks. They all throb in almost perfect synchronization. Everything's already gone to hell anyway. Might as well indulge while you still can, feel some semblance of peace before it all falls apart, if it hasn't already…
We make it to the other side of the street, Reni ignorant to the bloodbath about to happen. My knees shake from the strain of keeping them from springing.
Do you really want her to see this? the voice asks suddenly. My eyes briefly flicker down to her crown of curly bronze hair. Expose her to what we really are?
Her presence puts a damper on my newly-risen bloodlust. The shadow of guilt begins to engulf me, but the beast won't go down without a fight.
And God help me, a part of me is glad.
She has to learn some time anyway. Pretending we're human doesn't make us human. Look what happened because of Mom's secrets. Her own daughter has no fucking clue what's just happened, who she's come face to face with, the beast argues frantically.
I begin to pin-point particularly appetizing scents; peaches and fresh cream, baked bread, milk chocolate….the humans, they pass us, their buried survival instincts urging them to give us a wider berth, pumping their veins full of adrenalin, making their hearts race with sudden fear they can't explain. It's not long before we're alone again, their fear finally forcing them to take detours they wouldn't normally take.
You can simply drop her off at home and then go out for a quick bite. She won't leave the apartment. Surely you can wait for just a little bit longer, the beast continues roughly.
You would throw everything away and resign yourself to hell, just for a couple minutes of peace? the other voice asks. The beast snarls, outraged by the challenge, the logic.
Suddenly Reni's hand slips out of my grasp and I turn, slightly annoyed, another apology on my lips for holding her too hard, but it never comes out.
She stands rigid, like a statue, several feet behind me. Frozen. I can still see hints of her pale, albeit flushed skin behind the partially closed curtain of hair, but it's not her skin I'm drawn to, it's her eyes, the whites of her eyes. The absence of her chocolate brown irises as her eyeballs roll into back of her head.
"No!" I shout, zipping in front of her, all thoughts of insane blood lust and resignation forgotten. I spot the wooden arms of the cross and the arrangement of damp roses inside the alleyway behind her and instantly I understand.
"Fuck." I kneel before her, steadying her as the convulsions begin to buckle her knees.
She takes no notice as I scoop her into my arms. Her head lolls against my shoulder as I clutch the back of her neck. I try to navigate back home, shielding her convulsing form from oncoming passerby even as the memory soaked in that damn alleyway flits through her mind and mine like a movie reel.
It's dark. No stars shine tonight, the storm clouds too thick to let any light reach the sun-deprived city.
The sound of footsteps fills the air. A boy is walking by. He's husky, with small eyes and not much chin, short brown hair. Wearing a bulky parka, he trudges onward, swinging a plastic bag with each step he takes.
"No," I whisper to her. "C'mon Reni, snap out of it!"
He stumbles and falls to the floor, the contents of his bag spilling in front of him; shampoo, milk, and a chocolate bar. The white ear buds nestled in his ears blare its confusing song, a mix of steady drums and rhythmic screams.
We make it to our building. I bolt to the elevator once we cross the threshold, my eyes locking with the bemused deskman's briefly as the doors slide shut. She's still seizing, but not as violently as before. Boring elevator music fills the air, a sick contrast to violent rock song in the memory. I'm half of the mind to rip the speakers out of its box. Reni's leg twitches against my stomach, her breathing becoming fast and shallow.
He gathers his things. In the process, he finds the root of his fall: shoelaces. Untied and tangled at the ends. He grumbles something to himself as he tries to get everything undone so he can tie the strings properly. He hears only his music.
The screeching of tires pierces the air. A red car full to the brim with people, young people, lurches dangerously close to his sidewalk. The interior of the car reeks of the bitter, fermented scent of booze while the quiet calm of the street is tainted by the crazy laughter, shouts, and music booming from its open windows…and still, the boy hears nothing.
I sink to my knees, helpless, cradling her in my arms as the memory forcing its way into her mind causes her tiny body to jerk wildly. Her teeth clatter together, eyelids half-closed, but I keep skin contact, hoping maybe, just maybe, I'm not too late and she'll channel the memory completely into me.
One second is all the time it takes for the car to jump the curb, another for him to rise and turn, only to be greeted by his impending doom.
The sound of the force of impact, the ensuing crunch as his body slams against the concrete is lost amidst the screeching halt of the tires. No one exits the vehicle. A minute passes before the driver puts the car back in reverse, egged on in his drunken and pot-induced haze by his equally inebriated companions.
An eerie silence falls upon the street. Blood pools around his shattered skull and crushed chest, the crimson puddle expanding into a shapeless blob, its edges settling into the set cracks of the sidewalk before draining into the gutter. While his right ear bud has been reduced to nothing more than cracked plastic, his left lays miraculously operational on the cement beside him, continuing to blare its macabre song, unaware that its owner is no longer able to hear it.
It's not long before someone discovers him— a man in his late thirties in a navy blue jogging suit. Alarmed at the sight before him, he quickly crouches down to check for his pulse, but his hand falters as he notices the glassy, unresponsive state of his eyes. Still, he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and calls an ambulance.
In the flurry of activity surrounding the crime scene, a paramedic unknowingly crushes the left ear bud into pieces with his boot as he covers the body. It begins to drizzle.
The elevator stops, and the doors open. I get up from the floor and sprint down the hallway at vampire speed, trusting that no one is spying through their peepholes. We make it to our apartment. Not bothering with my key, I break the locks with a sharp twist of the knob and shove against the door. We slip inside. She's not shaking anymore. She breathes in slow, deep breaths, her entire body limp with exhaustion.
Later.
I'm in the living room, sitting at the tiny kitchen table with the window cracked open, twirling the paper cylinder between my index and middle fingers, letting the grey ashes settle on top of the worn, oak surface.
Reni's asleep. Tucked in. Hopefully dreaming of ponies and rainbows and other disgustingly girly crap. Another sting of guilt hits me. My hand shakes as I take another drag, the tip of the Marlboro the only source of light in the nearly pitch black room. I'm not cold, even though my pale blue t-shirt and baggy jeans can hardly protect me from the chilly wind from outside. But I don't need protection. After all, I'm not human.
At least, not completely.
I feel the smoke lick the walls of my lungs in a vain attempt to damage the already perfect cells as I let my mind wander back to the bench.
"She wanted to know where I learned it from, so I told her it was you, but she didn't like that. She said she learned jump rope from playing with her daddy and asked why I didn't learn it from mine."
"She said it wasn't right, Reni continues. "That everyone's supposed to have a Mommy and Daddy, and that daddies are supposed to teach stuff like that to us. And she told me lots of other stuff daddies are supposed to teach too, but you taught me all those things, so I said she was wrong. Then she said that my trick didn't count since I didn't learn it from the right place and that we didn't have a proper family."
"That's horse—" I clench my teeth, biting back the words. "None of that's true," I tell her vehemently.
She shrugs, eyes still glued to the strand of hair she's wrapping methodically around her pinky finger.
"What happened next?"
"I asked Momma if it was true," she says quietly.
Something in me twists at her words, and it only gets worse as she continues on, oblivious.
"She said not to feel…" her head tilts and her eyes squint as she tries to remember, "…ashamed that our family was different than anyone else's, and that what was normal for Alyssa wasn't normal for us. Is that true?"
I can't answer. My mouth won't work. All I can do is stare at her expectant little face like a moron as I try to kick my brain back into working.
"…Yeah. That's true," I finally say. Disappointment weighs heavy on my shoulders. I rub my eyes, reclining back into the seat. It's nothing. I should've known it would be something like this. Something…simple. Logical. Trivial.
But if it is, then why do I still feel anything?
"That's good. I knew Momma wasn't lying. I guess the other stuff is true too…"
"What other stuff?" I ask mildly, nose wrinkling at the exhaust fumes billowing out of a rust-colored Honda Accord that zooms past us.
"That we'd go find Daddy once the bad people weren't looking for us anymore."
As if on cue, the front door swings open.
She walks in, quiet as a mouse, not even bothering to point out the broken lock. After hanging her jacket on the coat rack nearby, she looks at me. I can see her fine, despite the darkness, but there's no emotion on her face. No anger to twist her features into a furious scowl. No sadness to drag down her lips into a frown.
Expressionless.
It's unnerving. Not even when she was having her episodes did she look this…detached.
She shuts the door and leans against it, watching me smoke my cigarette. This scene has played out between us over a dozen times, but never because of something as bad as what happened today. A breeze enters the room from the open window, pricking the hairs on the back of my neck. I look away. Minutes pass, long enough for her scent to settle in the moderately-sized room. It takes a few seconds for me to realize that it's not just her scent I smell:
She smells like him.
My nose wrinkles in disdain. I grind my teeth, feeling her gaze.
"…Long talk?" I finally ask, taking another drag from the cigarette.
"It was," she says evenly. She walks around the sofa and comes to a stop at the kitchen table, but doesn't sit down.
A sleepy, incoherent mumble drifts from Reni's room, and the guilt is all that is needed to crumble my façade and remind me of my failure. The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
"She had a vision when we were walking home."
Instantly, her calm disposition leaves her, alarm and consternation replacing it.
"What?"
I wince at the sharpness of her tone, but before I can answer she's gone and in Reni's room. I follow, placing the cigarette in my mouth.
I hover just outside her doorway, watching as Mom sits on the edge of Reni's bed and smoothes away the hair from Reni's face. Reni's eyes blink open at her caress, the haze of sleep keeping her from throwing herself into Mom's arms.
"Momma?" Reni asks sleepily.
"I'm right here," Mom murmurs.
She sighs. "…'Kay. Where's Otto?"
"Who's Otto?"
"The boy with the grocery bag."
My heart turns to ice and drops into the pit of my stomach. I step to the side and slump against the wall next to her door.
"What do you remember?" Mom asks, a hint of panic in her tone.
"We were walking, then we sat down, then we walked again. And then Otto walked by with his bag and then I fell asleep again," she mumbles.
"Is that all?"
"Uh huh."
"Okay. Don't worry about it, sweetie."
"'Kay," she yawns.
I hear her kiss Reni on the forehead. When she exits the room, she closes the door, careful to make sure she doesn't make a sound. She backs into the wall behind her. I can practically hear her mind whirring.
I turn my attention to the open space between us, concentrating until I can see the shards again. I start to assemble the individual pieces together, like before, in the school hallway, except this time I smooth out the edges and re-shape the pieces so the resulting shield is smaller, but taller. Rectangular. The exact shape and size of Reni's door. I slot the newly constructed barrier into her door frame, over the wood. Almost immediately, the sounds of her heart beat and slow, even breathing ceases.
The absence of sound from Reni's room shakes Mom out of whatever mind trip she's in, and I draw her attention. She looks at me, then back to the door, her confusion melting as she realizes what I've done. She steps up to me, grasping my free hand.
"Are you okay?" she asks quietly.
Blood pools around his shattered skull and crushed chest, the crimson puddle expanding into a shapeless blob, its edges settling into the set indents of the sidewalk before draining into the gutter.
"I'm fine," I say, brushing her off. I walk back into the living room, to my seat. She doesn't immediately follow me. As I sit down, I take another drag. When she finally re-appears and walks over to the table, she has that familiar calculating look. This conversation isn't going to end well. I can feel it in my bones.
"What happened?"
My eyes flicker down to my lap. "I wasn't paying attention. There was a hit and run a little over a week ago…about a block from here. They put roses in the alleyway where the kid died."
"…How much did you both see?"
I try to cast out the images again, as I answer.
"…I think she was able to give me most of it. I asked her earlier. She only remembers the beginning, before the car hit him. And his name."
I hear the slight rustle of her hair as she nods, and the sound of her shoes clacking against the floor as she walks around the table. She pulls out the chair beside me and sits down. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her rotate in her seat so she's completely facing me. She rests her left arm on the table, fingers itching for contact. I move my left hand to my lap in response.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shake my head. She takes in a deep breath, and I feel her gaze on me again, unwavering and growing increasingly unbearable as the seconds tick by. Suddenly she reaches over and tilts my chin up so I can look at her. Desperation greets me, backed up by determination and authority.
"What happened at lunch today?"
My eyes widen a fraction. She lets go of my chin and sits back, waiting for my answer. I stare at her coolly, expecting more, but it never comes. I examine the cigarette between my middle and index finger with faux disinterest.
"…Fallows already told you, didn't he?"
"I want to hear it from you."
I snort, pushing my chair back roughly as I place the cigarette between my lips. I get up and walk to the window, tucking my hands in my pockets. It's pitch black outside, and going to rain soon. I can already smell the dampness in the air.
I take the cigarette out and exhale a cloud of smoke with a sigh, nose inches away from the glass pane. The writhing cloud of smoke flattens as it collides with the glass barrier, then re-morphs.
"I panicked."
As I say it, Brent's sneering face returns to the forefront of my mind and my lips curl in unrestrained loathing.
"Cole and his friends were bitching about whatever crap was happening with them when I got a whiff of their scents."
I bring the cigarette back up, but see that there's not much left, just a tiny smoking bud. I crush the still-burning tip between my index and thumb fingers and flick it out the open window, watching it disappear into the alley below.
"They were going to kill me. Or at least, they were planning it. I heard what the scarred one said. Apparently it was to protect them all." I can't help but sneer. The scarred one. Jasper, they called him. A new burst of hatred blisters inside of me as I continue to think about his words, their words, before the fight.
"I had to get the hell out of there after hearing that, and I would have too if that asshole hadn't started talking shit."
"You mean Clark."
"Yeah…that prick."
She lets out a sigh. "Do I want to hear what he said?"
I feel my face twist even more in anger and revulsion.
"No." There is no way in hell she's going to hear that from me.
"What happened next?"
I smirk, in spite of the result of my…impulsiveness.
"…I punched him in the chest, and then his cronies swarmed in…And before you ask, no, I didn't lay a hand on the others. Besides, what's his face—Emmett— got a hold of me from behind. I was too busy trying to fight him off to notice anything else. Next thing I knew, the Narcs were walking us all to the fifth floor."
"I already knew that. What did the three of you talk about while you were in your rooms?"
I undo the latches and shut the window with more force than necessary, before turning around. She's sitting as still as a statue, her eyes drawn to a crack in the table. For some reason, her lack of eye-contact annoys me. I lean back against the adjacent wall as I answer, watching her.
"He told me about the Volturi. He was trying to talk me into staying put. I'm sorry to say that it worked."
"So it's true then, you did try to jump out a window."
"I was going for the roof."
Her eyes close and she lets out an exasperated sigh. She straightens her back, a pained look now on her face, hand rubbing her forehead.
Eyes shut.
"Well? Say something!" I growl.
"Sit down," she says quietly.
I look at her in disbelief. She looks back, face unnaturally tired-looking, but it does nothing for me this time, arises no guilty sympathy or remorse. If anything, it only infuriates me more.
"No."
She gets up and makes to move towards me, but the minute she does, more of my shards re-appear to my aid and assemble, erecting a wall between us that keeps her from coming to my side of the room. I ignore the heartbroken, beseeching expression on her face.
"What does it matter if I tell you my version of what happened?" I hiss angrily. "He's a mind reader, isn't he? He read what was going through my head when it all went down, he must have told you everything—"
"He couldn't," she interrupts. Before I can argue, she continues, "He can't always read you. It's not like how it was with me, but it was still enough to throw him for a loop. When Brent was preventing you from leaving, he said your mind was…too confusing to be in. Muddled. That's why I wanted to know your version of what happened."
My shield pulses dangerously, cracks forming and spreading in its previously smooth, perfect surface. The strain from making Reni's room soundproof and the stress of the present is sapping this shield's stability. I curse under my breath.
"What do you mean 'how it was with you?'" I grit.
"…He can't read my mind. Not when I was human, and not now."
"Why?"
Every inch of the shield is covered in cracks now, no longer a clear, immaculate slab. Bit by bit, the wall crumbles into pieces, to my dismay, settling in the air around me. Meanwhile, oblivious, Mom backs up until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the table, never taking her eyes off the floor. Her hands grasp the wooden edge for support.
"I don't know. Neither did he or the others."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" I burst, ignoring the remaining shards. "You didn't have to mention him, you could have just—"
"It was all connected," she states, without looking up. "You would have wanted to know more…and there was just so much. I wouldn't have known where to start."
Are you frickin' kidding me?
"Wouldn't have known where to start?" I repeat, glaring at her in disbelief. "How about the fact that Reni looks just like him? Or that he and his family make it a habit of playing Brady Bunch? How's that for a place to start? Or better yet, how about the fact that you told Reni that we'd go find him once the 'bad people weren't looking for us anymore'?"
Her eyes flash at the last sentence, but she still does nothing; no shouting, no screaming at me to keep it down, just that same goddamn air about her, like she's some sort of wounded animal waiting for death to claim her. A roar of frustration and outrage escapes my throat, and suddenly the window pane beside me explodes in a shower of broken glass. Translucent real shards mingle with pulsing emerald green as they fall and clatter to the floor.
"Why won't you do anything?" I explode at her. "Why aren't you reacting? For once can't you show something other than fucking misery or defeat when we're talking about him?"
"We've had this conversation before—"
"And it still doesn't mean anything! He lied to you! He strung you on for months, left you to the mercy of a psychotic bitch hell-bent on conquering the Olympic Peninsula, who by the way, you only ran into because you wanted to get a pregnancy test someplace where the kind, humble, open-minded citizens of Fork's wouldn't catch wind of it! And instead of slapping the shit out of him, you were planning on crawling back like some—"
"No!"
The sound of splintering oak mingles with her sudden shriek. She lunges out of her seat and appears in front of me, eyes alight with wild fury, but I meet her toe-to-toe. She restrains herself, her fists balled at her sides as the harsh sound of air entering and leaving her nostrils dominate the space between us.
"I understand that you're upset," she says through clenched teeth. "And I know you want answers, and I promise I'm going to give them to you. But you have to give me the benefit of a doubt here and let me explain. It's not what it looks like!"
"What is it then?" I growl, walking back to the window, my feet crunching over the pieces of broken glass. It's just started to rain.
"…Me comforting your sister, for one. She was very alarmed by what her classmate said. She showed you the entire conversation, didn't she?"
"No. She told me. With her words."
"…I see."
"Do you?" I turn to her. "Why bother? It's not like it would have changed anything." She doesn't buckle under my livid gaze.
"… No, it wouldn't have…It was mostly a precaution."
"Precaution?"
"The world is small enough for our kind to inadvertently run into each other. I would rather have had you meet him on my terms, in a situation where I would have everything under control, than have you stumble across each other by accident, like what happened today."
"…You said mostly. What's the other reason?"
She returns to her side of the room, her back to me, ignoring the chair in favor of standing. "I needed him to know about you two, about me, about everything." My lips curl in distaste. He could have been reduced to ash for all I care.
"You didn't owe him shit."
"It was never about owing him anything." She turns around, face softening as she looks at me. "…It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not until I was ready and you two could handle it." Her eyes harden. "He's not Joham."
No, he's a mind reader, I remind myself. He'd know exactly the right thing to say, every time. He could have easily lied to her about not being able to read her mind… make her feel special…unique. I grasp at the theories, the errant suspicions that I had brushed off as empty and meaningless, like straws. I hold on to each one, all of them fueling my indignation and addicting, all-consuming hatred.
"How do you know?" I ask. "How do you know that he hasn't done what he's done to you on some other girl?"
Dry amusement, with just a hint of sadness, answers my angry mug, thoroughly confounding me even more.
"…Other than the fact that if he did this sort of thing regularly he'd have a mess of children by now, I know I'm the only one because attracting that sort of attention from the humans is exactly the kind of thing his family wants to avoid."
"What do you mean?" I think back to his family members, remembering their golden eyes. Vegetarian eyes.
"Their lifestyle is considered…unorthodox by the rest of the vampire world. They adhere strictly to vegetarianism, and I've told you, most vampires travel alone and are constantly on the move. They, on the other hand, try to stay in a particular area for as long as they can and operate as a family." I scoff at the last word.
"Their school attendance is just a formality, part of their ploy."
Realization makes my stomach churn. "So when you moved to Forks—"
"He was my biology partner," she affirms quietly. I look away in disgust.
"How young they can pass themselves off determines how long they can stay in a particular area. Since Edward and Alice look the youngest, they usually pose as Freshmen or Sophomores when they first arrive, which guarantees them at the most, four to six years. Their lifestyle, their routine's success, depends on staying, as much as possible, out of the public eye."
"So if screwing around with school girls is supposedly out of the question for him, how do you play into all of this?" I ask. She becomes somber again. Her fingers can't stay still, so she begins to twist the ends of her hair.
"He wanted to kill me on my first day." My heart stops.
"My scent called to him," she continues, unfazed by the disturbed expression I throw her way. "More so than any other scent he had ever come across in his one hundred and four years. He could barely stand to sit beside me during Biology. It took everything in his control not to slaughter me and the 20-something other people in the classroom."
"He was gone for the rest of the week. When he finally returned, he was….different. Determined. He spoke to me during Biology, wanted to know about my life before Forks. I really couldn't make heads or tails of him that first conversation. His quirks, how he looked, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He had this…omniscient quality about him that I couldn't explain. But it was just an impression. My first impression of him. And it probably would have stayed just an impression if Tyler Crowley's van hadn't almost crushed me."
"W-What?"
She grimaces.
"It was the morning after our first talk and the roads where still slippery from the ice. I parked my car in the student parking lot, but I stopped to look at the tires on my truck. Your grandfather put ice chains on them while I was asleep. We would barely say a word to each other at home and he was never very…open about his feelings, so the gesture really floored me. This horrible screeching sound caused me to look up, and the next thing I knew, this van was coming right at me. There wasn't any time for me to move out of the way, and even if there was I'd probably end up tripping and falling in its path. I thought I was a goner for sure…but he saved me."
She looks almost mystified now, eyes unfocused, like she's seeing something that's not there.
"I knew then that he—they—were something more. Before the van came at me, he was on the other side of the parking lot, and there was no way I could simply be pushed out of the way and come out unscathed. Anyway, before we went to the hospital he promised that he would explain, but of course, once I was done with my checkup he tried to downplay things. He was convinced that I would start telling everyone what I knew. I surprised him, though. I promised to keep his secret."
"He ignored me for the next couple of weeks. And I ignored him. It was like a contest for us to see who could go the longest without making eye contact or talking to each other…It didn't last. I blew up at him about a month after the van incident, and told him my suspicion that he regretted ever saving me. My assumption upset him greatly, more than it should have, but…"
She's pausing again, and I have to remind myself not to lose it. She opens her mouth, then closes it, then closes it again, but no sound escapes her throat. She closes her eyes, than swallows hard.
"Something changed for him between then and the next morning. I found him waiting for me in the parking lot before school….He said he was tired of staying away from me."
She stops playing with her hair. Her brows shoot up, even as her eyelids remain shut.
"The surprises didn't end there. He invited me to sit with him during lunch. He took being a self-loathing enigma to a whole new level, and later, when a classmate of mine was escorting me to the office because of another fainting spell I was having, he took me the rest of the way."Her eyes pop open, and the familiar pain splits across her face. "He always seemed to be at the right place at the right time."
"Like a knight in shining armor," I mutter to myself.
He would have been less likely to kill someone if he had already known their history, known that they weren't just a faceless slab. Knowing would have made it easier to resist, and if he really couldn't read her mind, then he would have had to talk to her to find it out.
Why then, did he bring her into his world? It was one thing to know her well enough so he could stop himself from mindlessly killing her, completely another to let her in on his secret…
Or did he?
"How did you figure out he was a vampire? He tell you?" I ask her.
"No…I did research on the internet, but everything that had come up just seemed ridiculous and inconclusive. It wasn't until I talked with the son of your grandfather's best friend that I finally knew what he was. He and his father were Quileute, and a part of their tribe's legend was that of the blood drinkers. Cold ones, Jacob called them. Apparently this wasn't the first time the Cullens had been in Washington. According to Jacob, they had created a treaty with his great grandfather, Ephraim Black, several decades ago; that they would not set foot in La Push, not bite any humans in or around the area, and in exchange the tribe wouldn't reveal their secret to the human population."
She brushes back her hair with her fingers.
"There's more to the treaty, and how it's being implemented today, but we can get to that later... A lot happened those next couple of months. He saved me a couple more times, from monstrous humans to sadistic vampires alike, and every time he succeeded my faith in him grew. But it was more than that. The things we would talk about…the things he would say…everything about him enthralled me. I felt whole when I was with him. I just…He was the one person I could truly identify with."
At my questioning look, she explains, "I never fit in. Not in Phoenix, and definitely not in Forks. My best friend was my own mother, and even then our relationship was dissolving because of my decision to move. But with him…it was like I was finally in-step. With him and his family…I felt like I belonged, for the first time in my life."
"And the fact that they were vampires didn't bother you?"
She shakes her head. "No. That was another thing that drew me to him; he wanted to be good, despite what he was, despite what they all were. Most vampires learn to embrace their killer instincts in the wake of the thirst. He and his family rejected them. They were living contradictions, living examples that there was a choice, no matter what kind of hand you were dealt, and that humanity wasn't skin deep. I was in awe of them. I wanted to be a part of that."
"Even if it meant leaving everything behind?"
She doesn't respond. She begins to walk along the island counter, her back to me, absentmindedly trailing her fingers over the polished surface. Seconds pass, and she starts to murmur things under her breath, so low that I have to strain to hear her.
"I told myself they would be able to get on without me. Renee had her husband, and Charlie had everyone in Fork's and La Push to take care of him. I was going to leave them eventually anyway, only now it would be more permanent. And as for the few human friends that were actually my friends? Well, they'd mourn for a bit, and then go off to college and get on with their lives. I would fade into memory…just like I always did." She stops at the end of the island, her finger tracing an invisible pattern into the stone.
"I won't deny it. My reasons for wanting to be turned were born out of fear and insecurity; I was young…and I'd never been particularly good at anything. I was clumsy and ordinary. I could never understand what he saw in me, why he apparently loved me, and I was terrified that he would lose interest and leave. I wanted to feel smart and pretty enough to deserve him and I didn't want to be the damsel in distress anymore. Vampirism seemed like such an obvious answer. I could have it all; him, the family I never had, the strength, the beauty, and the knowledge that not only would they never need to protect me from the world, but that I would be able to protect them… He didn't sugar coat it. He constantly told me about the never-ending burn, the all-consuming thirst, how unnatural it was for any of them to still be walking this Earth…But he and his family proved it could be overcome. The struggle just seemed to pale in comparison to what I would be getting in return. It was all a fantasy. My fairytale come to life…"
Slowly, she turns around and leans back against the counter, crossing her arms tightly.
"And then, everything fell apart on my birthday. We were all there at his house. I was opening my presents…when I cut my finger on the wrapping paper. Jasper was still honing his resistance, so he didn't have as much control as the others. He lunged at me, and it took everything for the others to hold him back. In the struggle, I was hurt. I had to get stitches, but I wasn't bothered. Carlisle was a doctor, so he was able to sew my arm back up as if nothing had happened, and Edward had always warned me of their natures, so I didn't hold it against Jasper. But it was the beginning of the end." She snorts humorlessly, squeezing her eyes shut. "I've already told you what happened next."
"And here we are, one big fucking reunion, five years later," I finish bitterly.
"...I know I haven't been straight with you in the past. But what I'm telling you right now is the truth; I didn't plan anything that happened today. Their appearance...was as much a surprise to me as it was to you."
I sigh, disheartened, thinking back to the hallway and the chaos that ensued.
"I know."
"...Why didn't you stay in the room? I told you to stay put," she admonishes.
"I didn't like the numbers." At her blank expression, I clarify, "Seven against one. I didn't like it."
"They wouldn't have done anything..."
"Like I was supposed to know," I growl, annoyed. "...It was either we stay in the room and I try to shield you, blind, or I join you and leave Reni in the room, alone..."
"Neither of which you chose in the end."
"They were shit choices." I look down at the pieces of glass at my feet. I kick a particularly jagged shard underneath the table. "At least if we were all together I could cover all of us without worry." Without any hesitation, I let my mind reach out to the assembled wall I erected in front of Reni's door. Still perfectly intact and effective. I hold back a snort.
Capable of slicing through the strongest metals and stones on Earth, blocking the strongest of attacks, and yet when it comes to multi-tasking it's as ineffective as—
"They thought your sister was an immortal child." Her words shake me out of my reverie. I raise my head, meeting her wary gaze, eyes narrowing.
"She has a heartbeat. Not to mention her eyes are brown. Are they fucking retarded?"
"No. Just scared. I told you before about the Quileute's…Another legend of theirs says they can turn into wolves."
My brow rises. "And?"
"…They're true."
I stare at her like she's just gone insane.
"Like…real wolves?"
"Somewhat. Just bigger. And apparently more menacing."
"You know you're not making any sense."
She shakes her head. "Is it really that unbelievable? You, your sister, and the others are supposed to be myth, yet here you all are. What makes the plausibility of their existence any different?"
I roll my eyes, annoyed. "Fine. They exist. What do they have to do with the Brady Bunch?"
"There are over a dozen transformed Quileute's right now. They believe it's their purpose to protect their reservation and the surrounding area from vampires. A couple of months after we left Washington they had a run-in with an immortal child—"
"—So the blond bitch immediately assumed that Reni was said immortal child," I conclude. She nods.
"And you wanted to join them," I grumble angrily to myself, as I rub my eyes.
"They were my family."
"I felt the love," I dead-pan. "Especially from Miss America and Alex Delarge."
"They were never this…quick to jump to conclusions. At least, not back then." She closes her eyes, stress and pain crinkling the corners, almost aging her before me, and another drop of guilt sizzles its way through my brain.
"…Alice was my best friend. Emmett was like the brother I never had. Esme and Carlisle…were there for me in ways Charlie and Renee never were. And Edward…Edward was my other half."
"And the other two?" I ask, not missing their exclusion.
"..Rosalie never really did take a liking to me. Jasper, on the other hand, had good reason to stay away, but we were on good terms…"
I turn my attention back to the now soaked window sill. I can't take any of this. It's like whatever's twisting my intestines has a direct line to the vein in my right temple.
But I can take the rage, the hate, boiling beneath my skin.
"But they still left," I say bitingly. "Despite how close they supposedly were to you, they left, and didn't even bother checking in to make sure you were ok."
"Do you think I don't know this?" she asks in a low voice. I hear her stride toward me, stopping once she's only a few feet away. "Do you honestly think that fact has never crossed my mind? That it never bothered me?"
"Well if it did, you had a funny way of showing it," I spit contemptuously, whirling around to face her. "Between painting himout to be like some out-of-this-world, nameless god whose presence you weren't even worthy of, and falling to pieces at anything that was even remotely related to him, I'm surprised you never arranged to have a golden statue of him erected in his honor…"
I've just crossed a line. I know it, she knows it, and I wait for it: the reprimand, the outburst, the denial of my accusation. And instead of feeling triumphant, I feel shitty as hell. The silence drones on, the bleak, despairing knowledge that I'm right my only company. And all the while, her face slowly remolds from bewilderment, to shock, to pain, and then to calm. Eerie calm. The kind you find in a psychotic before he gouges your eyes out with a pencil.
"You're not in my head," she says in a dangerously soft voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She takes another step towards me, eyes glassy and unblinking. "You have no comprehension of the sense of betrayal I felt when we were with her and they never came, no matter how many times I wrote for help on those slips of papers, hoping for Alice to see. Not even an inkling of how many times I've tried to pull myself back to who I was before Forks, to figure out what I did wrong, why I wasn't enough, why I couldn't move on, and what that meant for me. And for both of you."
She turns her back on me and returns to her side of the room, shoulders hunched, hands hugging her arms in that protective way she does when she's horribly vulnerable and upset. Half of me wants to bang my head repeatedly against the wall, but I don't move.
"…He said he loved me," she whispers to herself. I force myself to unglue my feet and move towards her but she flinches at my approach, so instead I settle myself against the back rest of the couch.
"…Then why didn't he turn you?"
"…He always talked about vampirism…as though it were a condemnation. I told you earlier…he found it unnatural."
"But apparently, not unnatural enough to keep him from sleeping with you."
"...No, I suppose not," she mumbles. "We talked a lot after you two left. About us, about the two of you, and everything that's happened so far." I pick at a loose thread in the leather.
"So?"
"…He said he was lying." Her voice has become toneless. Like she's in some sort of trance. "That what he told me in the forest wasn't true at all, that he lied so it would be a clean break, and I could move on and forget about him. So I could have a happy, danger-free, normal, human life. "
"Of course he did," I mutter, pulling the cream-colored string from out of the confines of the leather. My eyes flicker up to her. She's facing me again, a solemn expression on her face.
"So…everything?"
"...He was distraught when I told him about what happened after he left. Horrified when I told him about…you and your sister's births. And unimaginably guilt-ridden when I told him the rest...So yes, everything." I scowl at her.
"Good."
Her tone ticks me off. She sounds almost…sympathetic. As if she feels sorry for him. The moment I think this, an ominous sense of foreboding settles in the air, like a thick fog. My heart beat picks up. I push myself off the back rest to stand upright but I don't venture further. Something tugs at me from deep inside my mind, but I brush it away.
I stare at her, and she stares back, trepidation and anxiety rolling off of her in waves, her fingers fidgeting with the ends of her hair, her eyes…full of…pity. And urging. She takes a tentative step towards me, and the faint hint of his scent still lingering on her hits me full force: Sunlight, honey and lilac.
"Why are you telling me this?" I finally ask her. She takes another step, then another, until we're inches apart and I'm staring down at her. Her face doesn't change.
His scent is intoxicating, like it's everywhere, like he's everywhere. The logical part of my mind tells me that's impossible, but I can't smell anything else. Not Mom's scent, not my own, not even the goddamn food slowly rotting inside the fridge.
Why are you telling me this?
And as I ask myself this, a sliver of the tugging thought reveals itself, and that's all it takes for me to see. And what I see turns my insides to ice. I'm shaking my head, my entire being re-filling with everything that I've felt in the past few hours and then some. I back away from her until my heels hit the couch.
"No. Fucking. Way."
I keep staring at her incredulously, but she doesn't yield, doesn't disprove me. An outraged growl rumbles in my chest.
shesonehisisde.
This is a joke.
It has to be. A sick, twisted joke, or better yet, a fucked up dream my subconscious has cooked up because of my unresolved crap or whatever the hell Flan was going on about.
She'sonhisside
"He has no intention of leaving,"she says in a small voice. I feel the familiar sensation of my intestines being twisted, along with everything else. It's too much. I walk past her and stalk to my room, numb. Or at least, trying to be. She follows me, continuing on as I grab my black hoodie from my closet.
"None of them do. They want to help."
She's on his side.
"Screw them."
I shove my arm through one of the sleeves, then the next. I kneel down to pull my pair of black Air Force Ones and a pair of socks out from under my bed, settling on the ground before stuffing my right foot into the first sock and shoe.
"And screw him."
She's on his side.
My fingers pull the strings tightly, wearing out the threads that make up the long, thin rope.
"We don't need their help," I say angrily, through clenched teeth, the shock of her revelation finally dissipating. "If anything, hanging around them will put us in even more danger, or did he not tell you?" I look up at her darkly as I put on my other sock and shoe. "The Volturi are already keeping tabs on them. What the hell will happen if they come back and we're here?"
"Alice will see."
I hiss, breaking eye contact.
"And we'll explain. Everything. It's about time they knew the extent of the situation." I grind my teeth.
"Her visions have holes in them," I retort my eyes glued to my shoes. "She can't even see me clearly. What makes you think she'll be able to warn us about the Volturi?"
"It's better than nothing."
"Bullshit—"
"Use your head!" she exclaims, frustrated. "Can't you see? It doesn't matter whether we leave or not; if Aro touches any of them he'll know about us, our cover is blown!"
"I don't care," I snarl. "We can run, we can join the others. Anywhere's better than here."
"He wants to help us, he wants to know both of you—"
"Don't," I say acridly, dropping the laces and resting my forearms on my knees. Past conversations bombard my mind, making me sick and enraged and itching to rip into marble and steel. I steal another glance at her and my ire increases.
She's on his side.
"I don't want to hear it. It's always the same, anyway."
"What do you mean?" She crouches down to me until were at eye level, as though I really am my own age and I've just done something childish and wrong. She's doing it again: painting him out like some angel.
I chuckle bitterly.
"The excuses. For him…Nothing's changed."
She's on his side.
I begin to tie the laces, my tone dripping with sarcasm, "He's a good person… he didn't know what he was leaving… he wouldn't have left if he had known… he's so fucking sorry—"
"Stop."
I get up off the floor and walk past her, zipping up my hoodie as I leave my room. I pass Reni's door as I stride down the hallway. The shield I made for her is still up, it should last until I leave the building. Once I'm back in the living room, I head for the front door but suddenly Mom's in front of me, blocking my way.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
"You can't—"
"It's always can't." Just as I say it the burn in my throat flares back to life. I try to clamp down on the familiar onslaught, but like before it's not working. And to top it all off, she won't move. She blocks my way, and I have to hold back a snarl as I glare down at her.
"It's too dangerous."
"I'll take my chances."
"What are you trying to prove?" she asks, angrily now, her eyes gleaming with impatient fury. "That you're invincible? You know as well as I do how wrong that assumption is—"
"What, I'm saying, is that I need to blow off steam! Because if I don't, this entire place is going to go down!" I yell. I step past her, continuing on until I'm at the door.
"Why won't you trust me?"
My hand freezes on the knob. I resist the urge to punch a hole through the wood.
Not now. Why the fuck did you have to ask me this now?
"It's not that I don't…I just…"
"You just don't trust my judgment."
I don't respond.
"…He's not who you think he is, no matter what Nahuel has tried to put into your head—"
"This isn't about Nahuel," I cut in, my grip mashing the metal knob like putty, my frame shaking with the effort from not letting myself turn around. "This is about the mess he dumped all of us in because he didn't have the balls to cut the strings from the beginning. This is about Reni not knowing the difference between a dad and a brother, and seeing things that she shouldn't see, things that she would never have seen if he hadn't passed down half his DNA to her. This is about what we are, about me having to k—" I bite back the words, looking to the ground in shame. The tension between us reaches an all-time high. After a stiff silence, I hear her slowly walk up behind me and place a hand on my shoulder.
"…You didn't throw her pieces into the fire," she reminds me quietly.
"I'mthe reason all that was left were pieces."
"…You were frightened. How can you judge yourself so harshly on something that was out of your control?"
I close my eyes, letting my fore head rest against the wooden surface of the door. Seconds pass.
"It should have been him." I re-open my eyes. It's a bitter lament that when voiced almost douses the grotesque horror I feel. "He should have gotten rid of her." The fingers on my shoulder curl involuntarily, not to comfort, but as though in reflux. The action piques my memory. Something she said. I rack my brain, going over everything that she has just told me…
And then I find it, and it clicks into place. It's so obvious, so clear now that I can't believe I didn't put it together before.
"You said he saved you from sadistic vampires."
Her hand falls lifelessly from my shoulder.
"He did."
"…It was her, wasn't it?" She says nothing, but her silence is all the confirmation I need. I let go of what's left of the knob. It breaks off from the door and clangs to the floor, rolling into the corner.
"They didn't think she was a threat," she says softly. "Her mate was a tracker, who thought it would be great sport to hunt a human guarded my seven vampires. When he was killed, she didn't bother avenging him, she just vanished. We all thought that was the end of her."
"And we all know the tragic end to that story," I say sarcastically.
"…He was trying to protect me." I turn around slowly, in disbelief. She looks up at me with saddened eyes. Tired eyes.
"He thought his presence was attracting danger to me. Putting me in danger."
She's on his side.
"You believe that." I state, my tone unnaturally calm, while my mind reels with feelings of the blackest batch. "You believe what he told you, not even five hours ago."
"…I do."
I let out a calm exhale, nodding my head, before spinning around and putting my fist through the wood.
A cry of surprise, but I ignore her, sending the door off its hinges with another well-placed punch. It crashes into the opposite wall in the hallway, finally falling flat at my feet, battered and broken. I side step it as I head for the elevator. My eyes squint from the brightness but I trudge on, my footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor, Mom practically hovering behind me.
"I know how you feel about him," she begins, as we walk past our neighbor's doors at human speed. I ignore her, my eyes locked on the sleek, silver panels of the elevator.
"This isn't easy for me either, but it's the best shot we have at surviving this insanity…" I stuff my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, my fingers finding the paper carton of Marlboro's and my lighter.
"I can't re-write the past…no matter how many things right now feel as though they shouldn't be, but this is about the future. All of our futures: mine, yours, Reni's, your father's—"
"Don't call him that," I interrupt, turning around to glare at her. "Don't ever use that word to describe him again."
"… Like it or not, he is—"
"He is not my father." My nostrils flare in blatant scorn. "As far as I'm concerned, I have no father."
"What you're thinking isn't true," she tries again desperately, as we arrive in front of the elevator.
"Really? What am I thinking?" I ask sardonically as I keep pressing the button on the wall.
"That this choice is simple and uncomplicated. Effortless…for me." The panels slide open and I slip inside.
"Hard to think different when you've already taken him back." Her eyes flash in hurt and anger at my words, at my disrespectful jibe, but I don't care. The panels begin to close.
"I didn't."
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*Remember chapter five.
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