Chapter 4
Death Wish
I watch the tiny spot on the horizon grow larger. It's likely the boat that belongs to the caretakers. An idea takes me, and I run back to the house. It's a simple matter to remove my things, smooth the bed and leave no trace I was ever there. I take my bag and stash it in some deep undergrowth near the center of the island. When they arrive it's as if I never made it. I listen to their conversation, wondering what to do and if they should call the owner. The man actually engages in a quick search of the island, but of course he can't find me. Eventually they get back in their boat and leave.
I sit on my perch and look out over the water. The days pass uneventfully. After a week, I experience my first thunderstorm in all its tropical splendor. The water on my cheeks reminds me of tears, and I turn my face to the sky and take it in. Lightning flashes over the churning waves, and the wind roars through the trees in destructive fury.
I raise my voice and howl with the thunder. I shout his name in competition with the crashing ocean. I run through the trees taunting the lightning to strike me down. I claw deep gashes in their trunks and scream like his mountain lion prey.
I personify my despair. I embrace my horror. I wallow in my agony and shriek at the unfairness of it all. I cry to heaven, arms held high, and beg the universe to take me too. My clothes are soaked and dirty from the week I've worn them. I shred them from my body, feeling a bond with the wild woman Victoria.
Victoria is long gone, just like my Edward. I imagine them in some vampire heaven, where she gets to be with him and I don't. I scream and tear at my hair, and in a fit of anguish, I throw myself from the overlook into the ocean.
I remember cliff diving all those years ago, and how it lead to me getting him back when I thought he was gone for good. I don't fight to tread water or swim. I sink, and science tells me that I have no gases in my body to keep me afloat. My heart tells me it's because I'm nothing more than a corpse. I close my eyes and let go. I feel the water surround me, moving me as if I'm nothing more than driftwood. I count the thunder claps and the lightning flashes on the inside of my eyelids. It gradually slows then stops. I drift.
I feel the sun warming the water above me. The water holds me like a tomb. I can't sleep and I can't turn off my mind. A week passes as I drift corpse-like in the ocean. It's the tide that brings me ashore and deposits me as it ebbs. I rub against the sand and rocks with each wave. I listen to the seabirds overhead, but none of them land on me, nor do the crabs come to snap at me. I let the sand cover my body and my face and the water recedes from my feet. I don't move. A week passes and I am still. The sand blows over me, and the tides wash against me, pushing me further ashore. The sun warms my back during the day, and at night I am cold as stone.
Still I can't forget, but something new steals my attention. Hunger. I won't hunt. I refuse to even move. I will petrify here and become driftwood. I can do this. I will force myself to die. I will wither and fall apart and be sand on the beach – sand that sparkles in the sun.
Hunger. Hunger. Hunger. My heart does not beat, but the thirst pulses within me. I can control it. I will control it.
Edward please don't go. I need you. I love you. I can't do this without you. I feel the memory of tears on my face. He left me before. I remember how hard I fought to hold on to his memory. The crazy things I did to recall the sound of his voice. I remember the fear of losing my precious memories of him. But now I want them gone. If I can't have him, his memory is a taunt that keeps me rooted in sorrow.
Days pass. I thirst. They are wrong, and I haven't lost control. I will lie here until I am a desiccated ruin. I will lie here until even the birds know I'm no threat. And when every bit of life and memory have faded from me, I will disintegrate like a forgotten sandcastle.
Time has no meaning. I feel him with me. Edward wraps me in his arms of memory and holds me. I feel him kiss my cheek and he tells me he loves me. I breathe sand as I sigh, and I let him go, too weak to hold him.
Silence. Oblivion. Darkness.
Peace.
I hear the sounds, but I can't move. I smell the blood, and I refuse to act. I hear familiar words that barely register in my mind. I'm not dead. But I'm close... so close.
Voice calling, hands touching, turning me, moving me, and pulling me back from where I want to go. I shake my head and struggle feebly. I'm lifted and carried, and I can't struggle enough to get away.
"My god Bella, what were you thinking?"
His voice is familiar, but I don't want to remember. I'm carried to the house and I find myself on the bed we never shared. The smell of blood is overwhelming, and I grind my teeth to keep still. He holds my head up and puts the cup to my lips. It flows into my sandy mouth and floods down my clogged throat. It's never tasted sweeter. I clutch the cup in my hands and empty it greedily. My parched tongue licks the cup and he takes it from me. The sand has stolen my sight, but the blurry images remind me that it is coming back.
The cup is offered once more, and I don't need help drinking. I clutch it in both hands like a hungry toddler. It's so good... so perfect. I can feel it flowing through me. I feel like a dried sponge tossed into a bucket of water. The cup is empty and I want more.
"More." It's the first word I've spoken in weeks. My voice is dry and raspy, and unfamiliar to my ears. .
"No, that's enough. Any more and you'll develop a taste for it." My eyes begin to focus, and I watch him pace. I try to speak, but the sand in my throat is scratching me. I cough, leaning over the bed as the clumps are expelled from my throat. I blow it from my nose, and spit it from my mouth. I feel the venom. My eyes focus on the sandy mess on the wood floor. I can see. I can smell. I can taste again. I'm not dead. Damn.
I sit up and look at him. He looks angry, pacing back and forth in the bedroom. He stops and our eyes meet. I've never seen him angry before. Never.
"What the hell were you thinking? I wouldn't have expected a stunt like this from you! You're not mortal anymore Bells, all you're doing is worrying your family and taking a chance on getting someone killed!" He's shouting, and all I can do is stare. "What's wrong with you? Have you totally lost your mind?" I can't respond to his questions. I blink at the grit in my eyes as the world takes an insane spin.
He comes toward the bed raging with anger. "You've got a lot of explaining to do!" It looks like him, but I don't know this person. "Say something!" He pounds on the end of the bed, and the wood splinters to pieces. He stands there, staring at me, then he runs his hand through his hair in a gesture that reminds me painfully of Edward.
He seems to calm himself, and his voice calms back to normal. "You need to clean yourself up, and put some clothes on." He reaches out and softly touches the fabric draped on the bed he's just ruined. He walks into the kitchen leaving me there. I look down and realize I'm still naked, and I don't even care. I get up and walk into the bathroom.
More memories are hiding there, like I hid there on my honeymoon. I turn on the water and climb into the spray. Hot or cold no longer matter, but it takes three washings to get the sea and sand out of my hair. The sand has crawled into every nook on my body, and I have to take care to wash it all away. I expect to be weathered or dried out, but there's no change. My skin looks perfect and white. I can't even sunburn anymore.
I wrap in a towel and brush my hair. I see myself in the mirror, and I look exactly the same as the day I left. No, I'm not quite the same. My eyes are red.
I storm from the bathroom and confront him in the kitchen. "You gave me human blood!" My voice sounds harsh. "Why would you do that to me?"
He looks up from what he's doing as if I'm bothering him. "So she speaks." He goes about cleaning up, packing away an empty bag that used to contain donated blood. He wipes down the table and washes out the cup I drank from.
"Carlisle... why?" I sit on a nearby chair, hugging the towel close. He snaps the cooler closed and turns to face me.
"You needed it. You couldn't hunt, and animals just don't sit still to donate blood. It'll be out of your system in a couple weeks."
"But now I know what it tastes like."
"You were going to know that one way or another. If you think for one minute you'd be able to resist the next human who set foot on this island, then maybe you really have lost your mind! Just be glad you didn't have to find out the hard way that your resistance isn't perfect. If you'd have killed the pilot or the caretakers, I'd have destroyed you myself."
I stand to face him. "Why wait for me to slip, do it now!" He strikes fast, and the sound reverberates in the small room. His hand across my cheek snaps my head to the side and staggers me. The pain is momentary, and I know better than to look for damage. I turn to face the man who looks like Carlisle, and I know it can't be him.
He squeezes his eyes shut and balls his fists at his side. When he opens his eyes I see twin windows of pain. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't come here to fight with you. And I damn sure didn't come here to destroy you." He sits on the edge of the table and shakes his head. "You have no idea...you can't even see beyond your own loss."
He rubs at his eyes in an entirely human gesture. "It's been two years Bella. He's not coming back – none of them are. And you can't just toss yourself into the grave and pull the dirt in on top."
"Why not? Why can't I just end this? Set me up with one of those thermite disc's and let me go."
"Shut up!" He looks like he wants to hit me again. "You're being such a self-centered pain in the ass. This pity party has gotten out of hand, and you need to just get over yourself."
"I CAN'T!" My voice is too loud for the small bungalow. "Don't you think I've tried? The only man I ever loved was murdered right in front of me. And I can't forget him, and I can't get past it, and I can't even cry for him. It hurts, Carlisle. Every thought, every memory, every dream we shared, shreds through me like a razor. I feel like somebody has torn out my heart, and packed in ice where it used to be." I step closer to him.
"When I was changed, the drugs you gave me didn't work. They actually made it worse, and I couldn't move or scream or writhe in the agony I felt." He actually looks sorry. "Carlisle, that was sweet bliss compared to how I feel now. I would go through that every moment of every day if it meant I could have him back." My words hang in the silence between us. His head droops as he stares at the floor.
"I know." His voice is so soft I almost don't hear him. His eyes lock onto mine, and we stare at each other. "You don't have a monopoly on pain, Bella. There is plenty of suffering to go around, and you can't convince me that your loss is greater, just because you've chosen to wallow in it." He puts his hands on either side of my head and stares into my eyes. "I loved Esme for over a hundred years. Your grandparents weren't even born when I chose Edward and started my family. I loved him too, Bella. He was sometimes like a child, sometimes like a brother, and sometimes like a best friend. He mattered to me just like he mattered to you, only more."
I try to shake him free. I try to deny that he could possibly feel the same. He pokes his finger into my chest, and his voice sounds like pain crawling up from a pit within him. "You only lost one. I lost three. You have ten years of memories, and I have a hundred. You think you've got nothing left to live for? How can you be so stupid? Your daughter delivered last week, and you weren't there. You want to keep wallowing in self-pity, I can't stop you. But you should at least tell your family so they don't worry about you." He lets me go and walks into the other room.
I don't want to, but I follow him. "Nessie had her baby? She wasn't due for three months, did it come early? Is she okay?" I feel fear take hold at the thought of something happening to her or the baby.
"Do you really care?" He looks at me with cold convicting eyes.
"Of course I care, she's my daughter."
"She's been worried sick about you. Jacob wouldn't let her travel, or she would have come looking for you herself. The caretakers said that you hadn't arrived, but the pilot swore he dropped you off. I knew you wanted time alone, so I told her you were fine. You've been gone for three months."
"My god, I didn't know." I look at him, feeling like I need to explain. "I just couldn't face it anymore. I feel like I died – I wanted to die. I didn't hunt or feed, and after a while everything just stopped. I couldn't feel the days passing, and I even stopped thinking." I smile at the memory. "It was so peaceful."
"It's an illusion." His harsh voice snaps my head up. "You're not the first to try to starve yourself to death. I tried it myself, and made it six months before some poor lost sheep wandered over the grave I'd buried myself in." I gaze at him in shock. "You've been a vampire for twelve years, and I've been one for over three hundred and fifty. I've done it all at least once. You need to get dressed so you can hunt."
"I don't have anything to wear. I left my suitcase near the middle of the island in some underbrush." He rolls his eyes in frustration. He walks past me to the bedroom and I follow meekly behind. He opens the closet and pulls out several outfits and lays them on the bed.
"Pick something that fits you and get dressed."
"I can't wear those. They're... hers." The clothes obviously belonged to Esme.
He looks exasperated, and angry. "They're clothes, and you need to get dressed." I back away from his anger. He paces and then calms himself, as if it takes a great effort. "Esme is never going to wear those again. I'm not going to turn her clothes into some kind of shrine to her – she was better than that." He looks at me with the kind eyes I remember, and his voice softens. "Take whatever you need. She would want you to wear them."
He turns and leaves me alone in the bedroom. I stare at the clothes, and then slowly look through them. They don't look like what she would wear. I choose something, and when I come out, he stares at me. He comes close and I feel self-conscious at the way his eyes take me in. So close, he leans toward me and inhales the scent of the white peasant blouse I'm wearing. His eyes drift closed, then he straightens and looks at me.
"I'm sorry. They've been washed, but I remember her in that one." He smiles wistfully with a far-away look. "Back home she always dressed for appearances. She did her best to look like an older, responsible, soccer-mom. She was only twenty-six when she was changed Bella. When she was here she was young and free and relaxed. She wore such soft feminine clothes. She looked like an angel in white." He strokes my arm as he touches the soft fabric of the blouse.
It hurts to see his memories of her. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. They're just clothes."
"No... I mean I'm sorry she died. You must hate me for it." He stares at me, and his brows draw together.
"Hate you? Why would I hate you? You didn't..."
"It's my fault! I left Nessie. I knew she was a target, and I left her unprotected. I thought I could save Edward, and I left our daughter unprotected – it's all my fault!" I have no tears, just the ragged sound of my voice scraping against my vocal chords. "If I had stayed with Nessie, Esme wouldn't have died trying to protect her. You must hate me for what I did."
He comes at me quick, and I flinch thinking he might hit me again. Instead he wraps me in his arms and holds me tight. "I don't hate you. It's not your fault Bella." His hands soothe over my back as he holds me. "You've carried this guilt all this time? I could never blame you for what happened." He holds me an arm's length away, looking into my eyes. "If anything, I thought you would hate me." He looks away and his face is troubled. "Marcus used to be my friend, and I thought he wouldn't attack me, but he did. I couldn't take both Marcus and Caius, and Edward paid for my weakness – Emmett too."
"No Carlisle. I know you did all you could." He looks so vulnerable, and I timidly hold him. The contact feels strange, and I realize I've not touched anyone the whole time I've been gone. It's been three months.
I pull away abruptly. "What about Nessie and the baby? Is everything okay?" I feel suddenly anxious for my daughter and her family. He looks at me for a long moment, then steps away and sits in a wicker chair.
"Don't worry, she's fine. The baby's fine too. She had a little boy, Bella." He smiles for just a second. "He's the cutest thing I've ever seen. He's got your hair – or maybe it's Jacob's. He's got enormous brown eyes, and I'm sure those are yours. He's got Jacob's mouth, and Edward's nose." He stares at me and I feel like someone's squeezing my chest.
"What's his name?" I can barely whisper.
"They haven't named him yet. They were talking about Edward, but there have been so many losses, and they want their children to have their own names and identities. She's also worried about how you'll take it."
"Oh." I don't know how I feel about a baby Edward.
"They're waiting for you to come home and help with the naming. They miss you."
"Why? I just bring everyone down. They're better off without me."
"You know, I'm not even going to listen to you talk like that. I've had to face the fact that Esme's gone. But if she were still here, there wouldn't be a thing that could keep her away from seeing that baby. Those children are your family. And they're part of Edward too. You're dishonoring his memory when you behave like this." He stands.
"Bella, you need to decide for yourself what to do. I can tell you I've been where you are, but that really doesn't matter to you." I look at him feeling confused. He makes it sound like it's all behind him. How is that possible?
His eyes stare into mine. "Two hundred years is a long time to be lonely. You watch every one and every thing you've ever known and cared about pass away. The question has been asked, is it better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all? I've lived on both sides of that question." His hand softly strokes my cheek where he hit me. "Always choose love, Bella. Always. Without love, we're no better than animals. It's worth every bit of pain, sorrow, and risk."
"I don't think so. I just wish I could forget." He shakes his head, laughing softly.
"There are two ways you can look at it. You're stuck feeling the pain of his loss. You feel betrayed that you can't have more. I understand that, believe me I do. But you had ten years. You had ten good years of love and memories. But to stay caught up in what you can't have, is like ignoring what you did have. Your life isn't over Bella. There is more to it than you could possibly know. If I'd managed to end my life when I tried, I never would have known my family. I never would have known Esme or Edward, or Emmett. I would have put an end to that possibility.
"How selfish do you think that would have been? Edward would have died in the hospital from the flu. Esme would have... god, she probably would have been buried alive. Rosalie would have bled to death in a ditch, and Emmett would have been bear food. You would probably have died in your school parking lot, and there would be no Renessmee. Sarah wouldn't exist, nor would their new baby boy. You can't possibly know what you'll be missing if you give up now."
"I don't know how to keep going. I feel so cold and dead inside. Carlisle, it's like the best part of me is gone. I feel like everything that made me special died in that battle. I'm so empty."
He gathers me into his arms. "I know. But it won't last forever. I promise."
"You can't promise that. It's been two years, and it still feels like yesterday. I just want it to end." I try to free myself, but he holds me tighter.
"There's no magic to make it better Bella. You will remember, and that won't change. But if you open yourself up to new possibilities, you'll have new memories. Little by little the good things will start to add up and you won't have as much time to dwell on the bad." He pulls back without releasing me. "You've kept yourself locked up for the past two years and you haven't allowed yourself to feel good. If you stay like this, you'll be missing out on some of the best things in your life."
He lets me go then, and takes out his wallet. He hands me a picture. "That's Sarah holding her new baby brother. She wants a visit from her grandma. She's two, and she's growing like normal. But her intelligence is so much more advanced. She talks like a four year-old, and if someone doesn't give the baby a name, she's going to name him Scooby-doo." I laugh in spite of myself.
Carlisle snatches the picture from my hands. "This one's mine. If you want one, you've got to go back home and get it yourself." I stare at him as he tucks the picture back into his wallet. "Don't look at me like that. One way or another, you're leaving the island. I think you should go back home. But if you want to return to Denali and stare at the spot where he died, that's still an option. Rosalie and Garrett aren't there any more. They're traveling the country together. He wants to show her the country in a way she's never seen it." He smiles briefly. "You knew they were a couple, right?"
"I knew it would happen. What about Eleazar?"
He exhales loudly and shakes his head. "He's not doing so well. He's alone in that big house. He's broken."
"Like me."
"No, not like you Bella. He has no one."