I swam. I swam for days without stopping, my strength never waning. I swam deep below where I could see all the creatures I envied. These creatures knew their place in this world. Mine had been sucked up from underneath me, and now I was falling. Falling into some pit where I knew I wouldn't die, but linger forever without her.
Sometimes, as I sped through the deep blue water, I ventured back to the dim memories of my human life. Above all else, my mother. She was the most important thing in the world to me. Until I was old enough to be a soldier. War was all people spoke about, and I was in a hurry to become the hero I believed I was. But soon after, we were all dragged down, my parents and I, into our own bitter battle for our lives. We were all deathly ill, but my father was the first to leave. I dimly remember him humming a tune I used to play on the piano. It stuck with me through all these years; through the burning, through the murders, through the twists and turns of being a monster, because it seemed to be a part of him. I'd like to believe monsters like me were at least allowed to remember the essence of the ones we loved before. This was his.
He would sit out on our porch once dusk had swallowed the sky whole, and I was sent to bed. I would open my creaky bedroom window, which was just above him, and listen to him hum that same melancholy tune and exhale in a slow puff. He only smoked his pipe alone, or so he thought. Sometimes I saw the feathery wafts of smoke from under the wooden overhanging, but I could always smell it as it drifted toward me. I would hear the screen door creak as my mother leaned out, telling him to come to bed. He would always obey, except on special nights when he took her by the wrists and dragged her out into the front yard, always laughing, and danced with her under the sky. I would sit with my chin in my hands, staring off, up into the stars, where I could see God watching down on the only two people I knew to deserve to be with Him.
I wondered where I would go. Hell, maybe. Would I burn for eternity? The thought didn't scare me. I welcomed it into my numb arms, and held it close to my broken heart. Hell would be somewhere. What if I just drifted in a mass of nothingness? That would surely be worse. I could never be with her, so anywhere else would seem like Hell anyways. I would never be delivered to Heaven. I had no soul, I had killed human beings. I had killed Bella.
I kept only the clothes on my back, and nothing else. I let a ferry take me out far enough and dove into the cerulean waters. I may have been swimming for weeks before I found land again. I knew it was Africa when my throat ached with the thirst of wild blood. It smelled different, like it had never received proper nutrition. The sunken faces of these primal beings pushed me on, as did the pleading thought that I shouldn't find one's blood that I couldn't resist.
When I made it to Madrid, I stole clothing and new shoes. All of this was routine; I barely had to think about it. All the while, as I made my way to Volterra, I planned. Sometimes making up silly things to throw Alice off. As I got closer, two clear plans lay before me. If they agreed to do the deed, I would have it done immediately. If they refused, I would find a way to risk our discovery; that way they would not have a choice but to kill me quickly. I ran these plans over and over in my head for days, the only other activity the Italian clamor that came at me from every angle.
I tried everything to keep Bella out of my head, but sometimes when I was isolated by the sun, I'd see a flicker of her face in someone else's, and fall to the ground with physical pain without being touched.
Guilt was not enough. It was more than that, this intense feeling that pierced straight through my solidified bones. It could cut marble, tear stone hearts into shreds, spill the advanced brain of a killer onto the ground without effort. It was an affliction that choked me, making me helpless like a child. I thought wildly sometimes during an episode, wondering if Jasper's brain would burst with this lethal feeling if he were to find me. I had never felt anything like it.
No, I wasn't numb. I'd prayed that I could be. I prayed that she had drifted up to be with Him, side by side. I wished she would see me down here, and forgive me for what I had done to her. But God doesn't waste precious time on monsters.
I reached the walls of Volterra, right on time. It was St. Marcus Day, and there would be an enormous crowd. Waiting to see a killer die. I smiled cynically, but my lips were dead already. I realized I was doing the world a favor. This realization quickened my step, and I was at the entrance to the Volturi's dungeons before I could think about it anymore.
I heard guards sense my presence, and soon light footsteps could be heard down the endless hallways of my departure place.
Sorry guys, I know this is short. But I really wanted to start a new chapter (which is probably going to be VERY long) with the Volturi in it, not at the end of this one. I'm having a fun time writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Please review, it makes me happy and encourages me to finish. Thanks again!