Namelessly I wandered, a walking zombie, through the streets of Denali. There were people I talked to, and the name I gave them was "Anthony Masen". The name I had owned tied me to my old life, to Forks, the place that would always be my home, to her.

Their faces were blurs, unrecognizable. Once in a while a girl had those soft, warm, brown eyes that reminded me of hers, and that stood out. They tore me back to the past, and I wondered if I had gone mad.

I never hunted.

Yes, the thirst hurt, but life was such a dismal ache of existence that it seemed insignificant. Why bother to be comfortable, if I was never going to be happy anymore, and I didn't want to?

Sometimes, as the thirst burned and humans wandered the streets, letting their scent waft over where to I stood, at the corner, pressed against the building like a tramp, I wondered if it was such if I became the monster I was punishing myself for being.

But whenever I envisioned myself flying across the street, leaping at the innocent victim's chest, and leaning down to slit his throat with my sharp teeth, the imagined victim's face turned into Bella's, and she looked up at me with terror, horrified fear.

Yes, I was going mad.

Once, I passed a church, and entered. It was fairly ironic that it eased the ache a little, being in the silent, cool chapel. A sermon was being uttered, and I realized it was a wedding.

As the priest said the words, I gazed around the room. Everything was beautiful: white pillars, deep cedar pews, and gold adornments. I had forgotten about this; my family had been religious before the influenza. I remembered how being in a church had uplifted me, had made me feel romantic and full of... some sort of strong emotion. Hope? Faith?

There was nothing left of that for me. I was now a monster, the enemy of the religion.

But I could still pray, couldn't I?

I wandered over to an arrangement of votive candles, in translucent, deep red cups. Several were lit, flames flickering energetically. A lighter was available for the parish to use.

I looked at the flames, slowly melting the wax as they burned. Each one of these represented a wish, a prayer, a word of hope for a loved one. I looked at them, and almost heard the whispered blessings:

For Emma. Please let her come home, please let her change her mind. Dear God, take care of her, even if she never sees her father again. Don't let her get hurt, or raped, let her find someone good in the company she now keeps. Amen.

Brad, I love you, this candle is for you. What twist of fate was this, that you had to die? So sad. God, please let him be in heaven, please let me meet him when I die as well. Brad, the children are safe, I will keep them well. Amen.

Dear Jesus, I trust my Claire is safe with you. I named her Claire afterwards, even though I never saw her. Claire, I'm so sorry, so sorry, I made a horrible mistake. I was so stupid, killing you before you were born, just so I could live a normal teenager life. I wish I could have seen you, just once. I love you. Amen.

I picked up the lighter and squeezed the button. The flame sparked for a second before I brought it down and let the fire catch onto the wick of a medium filled votive candle. Setting down the lighter, I whispered, "Bella." Strangely, it didn't hurt for me to remember her just then. God, if you can hear the prayer of a vampire, please keep her safe. Keep her safe.

The priest finished the sermon, and the bride and groom kissed fervently. I stood and watched, almost feeling like Jasper as I sensed the love and joy emanating from the couple.

As I left, I reflected... This was what I had fooled myself into thinking I could have: love, pleasure, happiness- but it was impossible. I was alone. I could never look with love upon my new wife, kiss her like the groom had just now, think triumphantly that she was mine, forever, never expect children with hope.

And this was the life Bella- I cringed away from the name- this was what I had given her by leaving. She would get older, be happy, go to college. Eventually, she would meet someone, or fall in love with someone she already knew- Tyler, or Mike.

I bit back the snarl of jealous fury as I thought of Mike holding her.

And she would have children, watch them grow up, as well, get old... the dream that was constantly in Rosalie's thoughts. I heard her, sometimes, and understood. What wouldn't I give to be human right now?

I had to make sure this would happen. She had to live long, be happy. I quiet Forks, there was nothing to hurt her once we were gone. Unless...

My thoughts flashed to James in a moment of fear. He was dead, but was there anyone else? Victoria. Victoria had been his mate. The chance was unlikely, yet possible. I had to eliminate it.

I couldn't go back to Forks. I knew if I did, my selfish desire would overpower me and I'd give up. I'd go to Phoenix, and pick up her trail there.

I had a purpose, if a meager one. A worthless one, perhaps, but it was for her- and that was all that mattered.

Victoria scent was simple enough to trace. I found her hotel room in Phoenix, then hacked the airport records to find several plane trips- leading to Southern United States, through Central America, and down into South America.

I began my hunt.

--

Stephenie Meyer owns everything.