He'd stared into my eyes for a moment when I said that. Then he had kissed me. Strongly, passionately. I was left gasping, when he pulled back suddenly. I hadn't even realized that his lips weren't there when he moved down to my neck and bit into it.
It was so much worse than you could guess from watching people scream. People scream for a lot of different reasons. Fear. They scream because they are worried that they will feel some pain. That the future will be worse. Hope. Some screams are pleas, trying to get some change to be made in their wretched state. Attempts to get help or pity. They scream to God or their loved ones. Desperate hope, but hope none the less.
These screams weren't like that. The screams you have while that poison moves through you are different. You forget that you are anything. You can't remember that you are a person with hopes and dreams and fears, or that there is a past or present, while vampire venom burns through you. Nothing will help. Nothing will stop this pain. You forget that death or anything else is even possible while every nerve, every inch of skin and muscle and bone is ripped and torn and scorched off of you and remade into something else. I screamed. There was nothing but that pain for three days. I don't know it was three days, obviously. It felt like eternity. Like every moment I had ever lived was like that. Nothing before and certainly there would be nothing after.
But it did lessen. Eventually, the fire died down a little bit, enough that I could feel other things, that I could think about myself again. Think that there was a me, and a world around me. There was something making it hard for me to move. Some cold stone prison that kept me from writhing around the floor of where ever I was in my agony. Slowly, I was able to start to feel the smooth texture of it. Like polished stone. Except it was different this time. I felt like I could feel individual piece, ever rise and dip that would have been completely imperceptible to my old self. The stone rose and fell slightly at different points. To the human me it would have felt like nothing but a flat surface. But I could feel everything now. I realized that I could feel every puff of air against me. I could feel tiny bits of dirt and dust and pollen that must have been drifting through the air constantly, but that seemed like nothing to me when I was human. Now I felt them drifting into every unclothed part of me. Crashing into my face and my arms and hands.
Smell returned next. The feeling of the impacts against my nose brought with it scents like nothing I had ever experienced. There was textures to smells. When I was human, the smell was only smell, but now they were so strong. And some prickled and poked. Some were fluffy when I breathed in, almost like what cotton balls feel like. One smell was stronger than all the others. A musky, powerful smell. Cinnamon, and mint twisted through the smell. But there was so much more. Every good smell I could think of. Chocolate, citrus, morning dew, pine. Every wonderful scent woven into one smell, one complete and wonderful aroma that soothed me more, that helped drive a little more of the fire from me on what must have been my third day.
Hearing came back to me after that. For three days, for eternity, all I had heard was agony. It would be wrong to say I heard myself screaming, because that would make it seem like I had gotten anything from my ears that I had made myself. The nerves that heard were in as much agony as the rest. It sounded like a loud, high pitched buzzing I think. Sound that was nothing but pain made auditory. Then it was gone, and I heard my own voice crying. Screaming and sobbing. I heard everything else to. Every twitch of me against my prison was like slamming a text book onto a desk. The wind rushed by, blasting in my ears like a hurricane, and I realized it was just my own gasping breath. And I could hear everything else that must have been going on outside my prison. Birds chirped. Squirrels moved among trees. Deer ran farther away, and I heard water moving through a creek that sounded like it was right by me, if it had been that volume to my ears before my change.
My eyes blinked open as the pain rescinded farther, pulling back to a dull ache in most areas, with just the burning remaining in my throat. I found stars above me, which didn't make any sense, because it was so bright. I could see as if it was day time even though the moon was the brightest thing around. I wondered, in that first moment, if perhaps I would be able to see the stars all the time, even when the sun was out.
I could see so much finer too. Dirt took on a new beauty, becoming like thousands of polished crystals. Millions of different hues made up the world around me. The green of grass and trees wasn't uniform. They were all like some green dyed zebras, stripes of different shades running through everything.
My prison loosened slightly, as I glanced around. I felt enough slack to move, and I turned. The world whipped around me as I did, and I found myself face to face with James. He had held me the whole time, never letting me be alone while that pain was happening. He knew that it did absolutely nothing, that I couldn't tell one way or the other, that I might not even remember him when my eyes opened next, or might loath him for what he had done to me. He stayed though, holding me, never letting me be alone the whole time. I pressed my lips to his, breathing in that wonderful, overpowering, smell that was him.
Taste was last. And it was by far the best.
Author's note: Anyone who reads this reading any of my other stuff? Like the Eye of the Storm? Because I'm starting to twitch from my inability to put up more chapters on that. I need you all to hound the other authors I'm working with to the ends of the earth for not getting chapters written quicker. Eevy Angel writes quickly enough, and Shaps, and I suppose that CarribbeanLady has to wait for other people, but the other two have only the real world as an excuse. Descend upon them like some swarm of reverse locust, creating rather than consuming, sending them reviews and PM's pleading with them, demand, cajoling, promising wonderful things or terrible vengence. Just get them to get back to me. I need to know what happens next! I mean, come on! I'm a freaking writer and I don't get to know what happens? Go look at CarribbeanLady's version of it. That's as far as I have written. Jasper just pulled a knife on Emmett and Bella for christ sakes! How can they leave me like this? How?
It's 6:30 on Saturday morning, and I haven't gone to bed yet. As you can tell, I'm a little weirder at this hour than most others. That's why I usually sleep through it. So that I don't say such weird things. But you know what? This is going up anyhow. Let me know if there are any weird mistakes, or things that I just am not really allowed to say. Go look at my profile to find the authors I want you to hunt down. It's at the bottom, right above where the stories will be.