1The Twilight Saga and its characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer
10.
A priest of all people should have agreed with me. A priest would have agreed with me if I had told him the truth. If I had confessed to him that I was a monster. If I had told him that she wanted me to end her life so she could join me. He had known that something about me was wrong, hadn't he? What was his thought ... pale skin?
Victoria and her clan must have past through that same way. Why had they left him alive? A group of vampires that large would not have been satiated by the small family of four. If the priest had been close enough to see them there's no way he could have escaped.
The answers to these questions were trivial. It was not enough to occupy my mind for more than mere moments. Once again I was alone in the darkness, with only a scent to guide me. Tracking Victoria was my path, and it all started to seem pointless. Meaningless. Just like everything else in my world had become meaningless. But Alice was right, I needed something. This would just have to do.
In my human life I had yearned to be a soldier. That was my path. When I fell ill I had been anxiously awaiting my eighteenth birthday. The honor of serving my country ahead of me, the status of a hero.
The memory of my mother, Elizabeth, was always my strongest. She hated the idea of her son at war. She talked with me endlessly about how she hoped I would meet the right girl instead. The idea seemed unlikely to me. I attended an all boys school, and all of my female acquaintances had never been more than family friends. Yet my mother would tell me her dreams of meeting my future bride. When I was sure I found the right girl she planned to give me her ring.
The ring my father had given my mother was truly spectacular. A sparkling jewel encased in a delicate weaving of gold. My father had found it in an antique store and had been so inspired by its unique beauty he proposed to my mother the same day.
The ring, along with several other jewels that belonged to my mother, were in a wooden box in my closet. When Bella had specifically expressed I was not to spend any money on her for her birthday I had pulled the case down to examine its contents. The ring caught my eye immediately. Would it have been too soon to propose? She had often spoke of forever. Would marriage not have been the natural next step?
I carried the ring in my pocket the entire day. When we were at school I was lost in never-ending thoughts of how I would propose. Definitely not at the birthday party. It needed to be something private, just the two of us. Perhaps I could take her to our meadow. That was where our love had truly began, both of us committing ourselves to this journey. I could go there ahead of time, or better yet have Alice go. She could set up roses and candles, a timeless and romantic scene. But somehow it didn't feel right.
Then later that day, as we watched Romeo and Juliet, I fiddled with it constantly in my pocket. Maybe it would have been better to be spontaneous? Romeo had merely asked Juliet for her hand ... the exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. Bella would probably not like anything intricately planned or over the top. Maybe that moment was the right time. How easy it would have been to simply tell her I wanted her to be me my wife. To slide the ring on to her finger. But I did not.
Then later that evening everything disintegrated before my eyes, and the ring felt like a brick in my pocket. A reminder of what would never be. My mothers' dream never realized. The next morning I left Bella's house and went home to change. Esme was waiting for me on the steps. Her expression was that of piercing sadness.
Esme had taken Elizabeth Masen's place as my mother in this life. Their dreams were one in the same. My happiness. Selfishly, I did not stop to speak with her. I could not bear her pain. I headed directly up the stairs, to my room. I removed the ring from my pocket and placed it back in the wooden box. Accepting that I would never have any need for it.