Seven years, the first of my characters was simple enough and the pivotal story of her life was to be told over the course over the course of seven summers, in Henry's words. Training came first but the period was so brief even in my mind it is, and was, inconsequential. It all boiled down to three rules. Never break character, though there were a few exceptions. Never leave a character's story untold and never deviate from the plot line in absence of agreement. There were a couple more lessons but they were spun in the form of recollected tales that never ceased to amaze.
"As a general rule I do not indulge in the unhealthy habit of actively playing a vampire in the presence of our kin. Aro himself made such a request of me in the form of an demand which in turn took the form of a threat. To put a complex tale in its simplest form, once I played Venrir; a vampire who rose to the highest ranks of the Volturi guard. His character however I crafted as morally bankrupt and I was drafted into an attempted coup by the once occupant of the now redundant fourth throne. I broke character however at the allocated time, intending of course to fake my death in the coup, but no battle occurred in a timely fashion. Aro was amused as my power holding back and confusing his guards dissipated and I announced myself." After explaining the brutality of the Volturi and the structure of their enforceable world, I pondered why he was allowed to live.
"You should have been there, the court of the Volturi is rarely brought into stunned silence and yet this time I was able to render both sides of a coup with an affliction of tranquilly. I eloquently illustrated my powers and how I had used them in my endless endeavour to exist in the highest fashion. I apologised to the friends of Venir for my deceit and that my integral role in the coup would no longer be an asset to them, which in turn caused them to curse my name as their plan collapsed in little more than a sentence. Of course my monologue was interrupted but it was done so rudely by a man who lacks both civility and decency, a man whose blood thirst blinds him and whose pride defines what little character he has. I speak of course of Caius who suddenly demanded my death!"
"Aro, a patron of the arts and understanding, was too amused to order my death, that in the members of the coup were quickly whisked away to their execution, thanks in no small part to me. At the following banquet, to celebrate the victory and because banquets are too rare, Aro requested I not repeat my performance and to ensure I keep the promise I made, I do not play vampires. I also would not recommend you follow the example of my youth, the Volturi then were a powerful faction among many, mercy and consideration were needed for their followers to obey and not join rivals. Now they are the sole power who enforce their law with a strictness that would cause the fair Philip's daughters to accept their father's punishment with open arms." He warning came in a cryptic historical tone that went too far back for me to care. Something to do with a French King and his adulterous daughters. It was however the last lesson I ever needed and planning became our focus.
It's an oddly engaging pastime, creating new life using nothing more than instruments of paper and ink. Details matter and yet I was given the lead of the project, I was supposed to prove myself by engaging both Henry and myself using six "archetypes."
"Plots that history and art have rendered so mundane, entertaining using their framework becomes neither a thing of beauty nor an offensive display to the mind. Neutrality defines them and yet if one can take these age old concepts and bring dimensions anew, it is the mark of true skill and may align you closer with our ventures." He explained once prompted, he had seven archetypes and he not yet explained his fixation with the number seven.
By this point, after the whole torture thing and vampire conversion bitterness and cynicism had replaced torment and despair. Already I had felt enough pain over the Cullens and desired to forget them, that in itself was subconscious goal I achieved only with patience and time. Though this state of mind gave me outlook on the world that in hindsight was as disagreeable as it was fruitless. It did lead me to a Romeo and Juliet style storyline and after Henry had immortalised William Shakespeare in fond recollection, we began dismantling his story.
Unsurprisingly the character I decided to craft was an exaggerated representation of what I saw myself as, when with Edward at least. It had an view upon matters of the heart so cold it reduced them to meaningless by-products of more subtle influence. Love, the very heart of the original plot was transformed into fixated obsession on the part of myself. An obsession which became less and less about love and into a thing of warped passion, while youth became a thing of poison, which I assume was my former state of being attempting to mature into what I am now. Finally after a great magnitude of changes, suicide became murder.
Retrospect forces me to confront the mistakes I made in the construction of this being. Mistakes Henry argues we naturally come to see us such only after the plot has been completed, we both spent some time lamenting our choices but moving on is easy when the person you were is a thing of fiction. Or at least that is what I keep telling myself.
Helena Sphere was the name of choice, for reasons that eclipse me even today, and what I gleaned from this experience was I needed to spend more time considering names. Helena I assume was to fit in with Henry who decided to keep his first name for the purpose of the minor being in his dual role. Citing his first name was familiar enough to pass for a quaint family tradition which led into the first role he was to play ,that of an elderly grandfather and guardian. A role he played less and less as the years went on, in order to facilitate his second role as the foil to my lust. The gender switched Juliet who gained wisdom and age but in turn lost the crucial emotion which led to their tragic ending.
Henry for his part did very little to encourage or commend my choice of plot, though he would later reveal he preferred participating in the plot than considering a prologue which will never speak to the heavens or an epilogue that will feel short lived and unworthy.
"All of us will find misgivings with the those we once were, however it is important to seize the moments that shine with the intensity of a dying star. One short lived, yes, but thunders through the midnight sky to touch our fickle hearts." Was the exact phrase if I recall correctly. As for the planning however quickly it came to an end and we departed the Gothic manor with little fanfare. A brief dinner, or what constituted as it, of fine blood which came in varying quantities and quality in the various cellars he kept in operation. Edwardian -1935 I believe was the particular strand the man eccentrically saved over the years.
Our ideal destination was a smallish town, several states away. A home had been purchased, furnished and on the dining table I found three neatly laid out envelopes containing the three identities we had manufactured. How Henry had organised things so thoroughly, and how he had managed to extend his fascination with silk to almost every aspect of the home, still elopes my understanding. A week later I, or should I say Helena began her sophomore year. I'm not entirely what it reflects upon me that I was able to pass as so young, hopefully it was more to do with the vast amounts of make-up that I'm almost convinced fuelled over half of cosmetic profits during those years.
Helena was an interesting adaptation, one day I was Bella Swan living with Henry and the next I was Helena. It was almost surreal; constructing a web of deceit which became the beating heart of our story, it felt like walking into a dream. The first year held nothing eventful, a few friends were made but quickly forgotten with the brief exception of dear Rebecca who was Helena's best friend. Truth be told we would never have associated if I was still myself, she was a party prone girl with pretty tendencies and I acted the foil of inexperience to her outgoing character.
The few friends I collected over that year, and to some extent the subsequent year, were unexpected elements to the plot. They were unplanned, had no role and yet they gave Helena a sense of fluidity and organic nature, little by little I was drawn into her. The affixed accent, the certain look of disgust at the mention of sexual activity we perfected over the years, and the spur of moment requests and invites which made me think through Helena's filter to reach an answer. As for any decision that turned out wrong or caused friction, Helena was a cushion; the life that never was which would be affected by what transpired. Of course I got invested and there were times my heart plummeted when a close friend was rejected by a love interest, overwhelmed by life and all its lows which are needed only to define the highs.
The second year however, now that was the beginning of my downfall and Henry's chance to shine. Before he was the doddery old man who existed only as a token guardian to give Helena a grounding in reality. In the second he became Philip Mercriss, again the name could have done some work but if I recollect correctly I needed a last minuet surname and like my plot borrowed from the play with a few letters amiss.
I must confess even now I have absolutely no idea what Henry appeared as, even before my transformation I had been possessed an immunity of sorts, now I was burdened with a shield that washed his disguise away. Oddly enough I could manipulate my mental ability and yet, it never allowed me to see anything other than Henry in all the normality he lacked. From what I gathered and more precisely what I was told he appeared as a youngish English teacher who was able to command the crushes of his teenage students.
At first we were entirely distant with neither of us showing any particular attention to the other, even when we alone as child and guardian he refused to break character and I only approached him on the matter once. He feigned ignorance on that occasion.
"Miss Swan, when we consider the protagonist what is the crucial aspect in relation to them and the narrative." Were his first words to me, they too had been planned. I gushed and clammed up as intended and from there he called on me for answers more and more. Lessons after school hours followed and it was during one such session, on a late November evening that Helena began to like Philip Mercriss more and more. By the time the winter frosts had gently receded into the flowering warmth of spring, she had a diary full of her obsession.
At first it was a secret, something she was ashamed off and yet like the character she was based upon, the opinions of others began to matter less and less. She became overly content, chirpy and droned on and on about the teacher who captivated her attentions. I found it oddly distancing, Helena seemed to push everyone away and I noticed and felt both powerless and empowered. I was expecting for someone to laugh or scoff about how I came across, how I was clearly putting on façade but it was either never noticed or no one cared enough to call me up on it. Helena became an extension of me, just as much a part of me as my useless unmoving heart.
To put a story so long it consumed seven years short, the realities of existence forced us to make a move, it was not part of the plot but passed without discussion and was done more to combat the lack of effective ageing on our part. Even Henry could only make us seem slightly older but nothing on the scale we needed. He did have a stylist who in his words "could make even the most imperceptible line become a beacon of beauty which shines unparalleled to the flaws of the natural world." In absence of such a person however, we made a move.
The move in retrospect was more than likely part of Henry's behind the scenes work, he would lament on his labour after the event in order to expose the subtly of the world in which we moved. He did have a fondness for the three act structure, and I wonder if he manipulated events to formalise our plot in three clear acts. Either way in our second location the plot developed, of course it had less action than the subject matter but for a first attempt it was serviceable. Here however Helena naturally progressed to the deeper obsession I had been waiting to introduce.
This Helena mirrored my preceding months in Forks after Edward left, and incidentally by some bizarre irony this was around the time I awoke to discover the Cullens were no longer at the forefront of of my mind. The plot this time had Helena so possessed she spoke to nearly no one and people began to notice. Teachers, students, and other parents watched, confronted and wondered about the strange girl who followed her teacher to another school. The plot obviously did not intend for us to move, or at least my notes did not indicate such, though it was fitting that the suspicion arose and in my mind Helena's move was influenced by the desire to follow Mercriss.
I wish I had actual interactions with Philip, ones that I could draw on and expose moments of natural sparks of tension. Had he been real then maybe that would have been far more possible, instead I had to paint an image of someone who was obsessed. Being heard raving about his incredible qualities, seen trying to speak to him at all hours of the day and force the general consensus that Helena was a deranged , I did so with a flourish and I had a obvious suspicion that Henry wanted exactly that.
If I recall correctly, and time has not done justice to the details, the so called second act of our plot existed only to bring us through the years and entrench the burning obsession which captivated my character. The midpoint I believe involved a restraining order and expulsion, the end point after an array of stalking and dramatic flair, Henry's grandfatherly character died. Leading us into the third act and the third move.
Helena's back story was not covered in the greatest detail, it being largely irrelevant to the plot other than what came up in simple conversation. Though we established early on her emotional recourse came from a grandfather who grew sicker and sicker which each passing year, his death was a catalyst for the final scene. Though before I recount in the detail it deserves, I should establish the characters in their final context
Helena was a crushed teenager who represented the darker side of love, she of course was the extreme version of the now distant Bella Swan who Edward abandoned. She had money yes, and used it follow her former teacher in another move which was planned since the earliest days of our plot. Rejected, beaten down and belittled over the years, left her with nothing else to lose. Only now she was alone in the world, leaving only her fixation to cling to. She hit rock bottom and yet was left with no means to advance. She was the perfect image of what unrequited love can inflict.
Henry as Philip Mercriss meanwhile was doing far better, reaching his thirtieth year he had secured the position of lecturer at a college. Helena of course followed but to his knowledge she was no longer a problem, he was designed to be naive after all. He was climbing higher and higher, yet there was one thing holding him back. The dark haired girl who he met seven years prior, who had followed him even once her high school years had ended and then came our moment.
Unkempt and wild hair framed a face of despair on a cold winter morning, sloppily applied make-up and over applied mascara gave me stained tears to imply desperate madness. Deep blue contacts filled my eyes with a furious lust, every gaze became predatory. Intentionally I starved myself of blood to quicken my pace and give the impression of hunger with every slow twitch of the claws I created from fleshy hands. I became a rabid thing, devoid of basic civility and clearly awash with anger. Yet underneath those baggy torn clothes, which stripped me of decent and dignity with every waking motion, I was excited. It was like being on a roller-coaster which at long last was reaching the peak and preparing to plummet.
I attracted attention, but our move had been done with the intention of limiting the vigorous police response which would have resulted in our previous location thanks to Helena's antics. It was probably assumed I was a student returning from a wild party, a few people did shout out but they were irrelevant to our grand design so I paid them no heed.
The lecture hall was where I found that Henry had dressed himself to be the effective contrast Philip Mercriss was destined to be. Pinstriped suit, silk tie, and confidant swagger to every movement, what the world say when they observed him was beyond my perception and yet I saw the character within him. Underneath that aged skin and greying hair, which to the observer might have been full of plump colour and a lions mane of flowing locks.
He perfected the look he gave me, as I thundered mid-class to the amazement of his students. Confusion, recognition and a spark of fear which would grow into an inferno, I was the centre of the room at the moment was seized. Elegantly I swept down a narrow staircase, silencing the whispers by turning to Henry, no Mercriss and for the first time Helena looked down upon him.
"Helena." He greeted in a word which summarised our entire history with its connotations of harshness, cautiousness and a touch of sympathy. To the character I was the girl he once favoured, then she stalked him, sent letters by the dozen, scratched her name into his property and threatened any woman who went within a mile of him. Yet I was once a student, a student who fell victim to an obsession he could not control.
"I will call security," His warning allowed a subtle smile to play across my face, I moved a step towards him, my raggedy clothing becoming almost a robe which trailed gracefully across the floor. I can still feel the exhilaration of that moment, it was as if my blood was flowing once more.
"Of course you will," I spoke so slowly it was almost painful. Engaging the audience who were able to witness our grand finale. The voice didn't fit, it just didn't, it was too villainous, to mocking and yet it was to be the basis of she who came next.
"Is that not our history, I appear and express my undying, unobstructed love and you have be dragged away so you can hide behind ignorance!" I demanded looking him dead in the eye with anger which I quickly melted into despair.
"You don't understand," I whined, moving a hand to my eye to impress upon them the illusion of a tear. I then stretched it forward to reach out to the man Helena loved so, he didn't move. His nature was to stand his ground, to diffuse situations and yet that was to be his fatal flaw.
"Why could you never see me as what I was? Someone who loves you more than you could ever imagine, someone you could always rely on and yet when met with this truth you opt to send me away, to throw me to the wolves of existence." I made out through long, deep feigned breaths.
"Helena you don't love me, you never did, you never will. What you have is an obsession, you love the idea of me not the reality, you have done for years. Perhaps in some way it is even my fault, had I noticed earlier maybe I could have prevented this, maybe you would still be that sweet girl who everyone adored." I glared then, a hate filled fury which struck him and our audience with a creeping shiver.
"Not you." I spat, forcing my voice to return to its anguished and yet infuriated state. Everybody watched, transfixed. I had expected laughter and still cannot understand why they did not scoff as this desperate display, whatever their reasons our act continued.
"You never could bring yourself to love me, not the way you should. Not the way that could bind us together." Those words signalled to him it was time to speed up the performance, there was little need however as security had already been summoned and their scent filled my nostrils.
"Who out there, could love you more than I?" I shouted with the rage that burned through Helena at this latest rejection and yet, it was to be her final one.
"What is in their hearts, that mine cannot supply?" I continued with such force Henry took a step back and the students were given the impression this was not going to end well.
"Choose me." The words were unplanned and yet while the character of Philip Mercriss had no grand choice between lovers, I think it was Helena's voice exposing her intentions. Henry often said characters came alive in our minds, just perhaps not so literally.
"Choose me, accept me for who am and accept us for what we should be." I demanded as the doors to the lecture theatre opened and whatever passed for security stormed in.
"I'll make it clear." I spat, I'm still annoyed I didn't have enough time to address Mercriss or illustrate my intentions further. Though before the word "clear" had even entered the air, the cold metal of a gun was in my hand. Philip Mercriss, was in the sights and Henry mastered the blazing fires of fear as his eyes stared into the barrel.
"Helena." He breathed as the room adjusted to this sudden change, though those words were chosen because they were the beginning of an attempt to reason with her. To reach the girl she was and make her see sense, but they were also not an answer. They did not give Helena her completion, the answer she needed.
Philip Mercriss fell, the metal roared and he took a step back. Looked down towards his chest and gasped, a fleeting defiant action that was based partly on disbelief and partly on his new-found reality. Then he tumbled to the floor, blood seeping out and calling to me and my resistance was a proud moment. Ignoring the benefits of a tasty meal I placed the barrel to my own skull, locked eyes with the students who cowered away or watched with twisted fascination, and fired. Helena Sphere went to her grave, dragging with her the man she loved.
"My dearest Bella, your mastery of that scene speaks volumes beyond your character, it shows the very foundations of you as an actress so dear to my heart you may have become an extension of it. The plot was perfectly manipulated to service our beings, the characters were so flawed they weaved their way into the folds of the mortal society and set themselves high above them. The news of our endeavour should spread through this world like wildfire and it is your ingenuity which kept these last seven years intact. From our comedic beginnings in that tiny town, where light-headedness opened a scene that could have led to humbling and inspirational tale like no other. Yet you introduced an element of lust which became a cancerous toxin, consuming our world and façades. Eating way at our star being and leaving nothing but despair, a story of beauty my dear." Henry announced grandly that same afternoon, escaping with little more trouble than finding the replica bodies and a bribe for the morgue staff.
Now with a change of clothes and a lack of disguise we sat in a small dinner not too far away from the little town, neither of us eating or drinking but lamenting. It was an odd feeling, being called Bella again and going without notice by the mortals around, as if I was leaving a crucial part of my anatomy behind. For hours however we ignored these feelings, only later would he tell me that the characters become part of you and leaving them behind can be as painful as losing a loved one or limb. Throughout we discussed what had been, referencing obscure events which told a tiny story as part of a greater plot, everything just came together.
"The look of despair which was devoid of all fault, the voice gave you an air of villainy and built up tension which captivated the room. The slow subtle movements made you a dangerous predator ready to strike at the first sign of the rejection we both knew awaited miss Sphere. You did a tremendous job with your own design which may have exceeded even my capabilities, though not only did you wear Helena Sphere, you lived her. Every moment, it was divine."
"Helena will remain with us both for some time, an example we either defy or correct. Mercriss, well he was the facilitator and yet his flaw was patience, had he reacted sooner well, he may have lived." Henry from this point referred to both Helena and Philip as actual human beings who were not described as characters as such, it was as if we and them were old friends whose attributed and characteristics merged seamlessly.
"Now though it is time to forgo ourselves, what has been and what will be. We have contained ourselves in areas devoid of all interest but what we created. From here we go on Bella, from here we journey around this globe and see its wonders. Then we return to begin the cycle anew."
Indeed that what happened, and what consumed us for three years subsequent, or more accurately two years and three months. Twenty seven months, Henry did not break his rules under any circumstances it seems. Though with Helena out of the way another period of existence did follow and yet it would bring me back into the path of those I fought a battle with my own mind, to get away from.