Author Note: Once again, I apologize for the long break between chapters. This is another chapter that I have been putting off. I feel like intense pain as I am supposed to describe in the changing of Rosalie should alter her personality; however, we all know that it does not. She continues to be excruciatingly narcissistic.
I would like to express my gratitude for all of those reviewers out there. I enjoy the feedback, both good and bad, as it lets me know someone is reading. I also appreciate the story and author alerts additions, it makes me excited that people are not only reading, but also, waiting for more.
Disclaimer: Much of this chapter is loosely based on Eclipse and Breaking Dawn. The characters that you know and love so much are property Stephanie Meyer. There is a slight reference to the inner works of Dante and his novel, Inferno.
Becoming Perfect
I was definitely in Hell.
Not the Hell that the babbling and slightly balding preacher at church had described or the ancient novel my tutor once made me read about a man wondering throughout the different levels of Hell. No, Hell was beautiful and brighter than anywhere I'd ever seen. The walls were basically glowing with the bright white paint and the furniture looked majestic as if it had come straight from the castles of England and Spain. To my surprise, there was an angel next to me, holding my hand and whispering terrifying legends as if telling an infant a bedtime story. I never pictured the fallen angels to be so beautiful. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I'd seen this particular angel, or rather demon, before. It was fitting that my Hell would be so beautiful that I felt self-conscious.
The pain which accompanied me in this Hell was consuming. I felt the fires that the preacher would rage and yell about; however, unlike his descriptions or the depictions of the novel, the fire burnt from within my skin. The fires spread from many places engulfing every part of me as they travelled to my heart. I thrashed about screaming. With my scream came an apology from the beautiful creature next to me. I pleaded with him to end this pain. I even begged to be killed, without much regard to the fact that I was already dead.
Even as I shrieked out, the pain continued to build. I could feel the fire eating me alive as the flames licked and bit at my veins. I screeched once more, the angel apologized, and I gave myself into the pain. The fallen creature began to speak; his voice was musical when he spoke sentences. I remembered this melodic voice, this was the doctor, Dr. Cullen. I couldn't be dead if he were with me.
Suddenly, I realized that he had brought me here to hurt me and to experiment with me. I could feel the fear mixing with the pain; I would feel pain until I died. I yelled out and cursed him, begging for him to leave me alone. He spun this tale of the pain ending and being able to live forever. His voiced deepened in warning of a blood lust that would haunt my every hour for eternity. He told me that I was just changing and it would end soon and apologized for doing this to me.
The pain was no longer excruciating. It still throbbed and burned inside of me; but, I could pay attention to the conversations being held between the Cullen's. The brother, Edward, was angry. He spoke about me as if I were merely the lowly commoner and a burden in his life. He angered me.
Carlisle defended me, suggesting that I could not just be left out to die. His wife agreed and I felt a slight wave of appreciation for the doctor and his wife.
"People die all the time." Edward's voice was dark, filled with hate. I felt my own body go rigid with an urge to fight held back only by the flames. He complained about my fame saying it was too recognizable and growled when he spoke of Royce. I felt a wave of relief flood through me when I realized that they knew Royce was guilty.
With this relief was a dulling of the pain, my fingertips seemed to be cool. The fire was dying. I began to realize the weight of the doctor's words; I would drink the blood of humans or animals. The thought of savagely killing in order to live repulsed me; yet, my throat burned with desire. As the pain ebbed like the migraines my mother used to whine about, I knew that I would stay with the Cullen's. I could not be alone.
The pain ended. The doctor had said I'd become superhuman; but, he didn't say how beautiful I would turn. My body looked cut from the finest white marble. My eyes were crimson, unnerving yet awe-inspiring. I'd been jealous of the Cullen's before and I had now the beauty that had upset me.
I was perfect.