Chapter 33

Monster

All I wanted was for him to think about it. Not that I wasn't happy with the way things were, I was overjoyed with Tristan and Tessa. They were beautiful and I too was shocked that I'd lived through the pregnancy and birth. It was the wonder in Carlisle's voice when he said I wouldn't need a hysterectomy that got me thinking. I could carry another baby.

And it was so wonderful being a mother. Just like when they were inside me I knew they loved me and needed me. Me. It's the reason I wanted to nurse them even though it hurt – even though it seemed to disgust everyone who saw. It was the one thing I could give them that Rosalie, Esme or Bella couldn't. I knew that soon enough they'd learn to hunt and I'd have to cut my apron strings even before they were fully tied.

Making love with Stefan after all we'd been through was wonderful. I was so happy to know we'd always have that connection. He seemed to be such a loving and gentle man, and to see him holding his children, with his look of wonder and joy – it made me fall in love with him all over again. I brought up the idea of more children because he was such an amazing father. He tried to take care of the babies himself every time I was sleeping. Of course inevitably one would give a little cry and I'd wake up. I didn't want to miss a minute of their infancy.

I loved the way he sang to them, soft and low like he thought no one could hear him. I loved the way Tessa wrapped her daddy around her tiny little finger, and every smile lit up his face. I started keeping Tristan closer, especially considering how Rosalie seemed to adore him. His dark curls reminded me a bit of her husband Emmett, and I worried that she wanted to keep my child as her own. If I had died, I had no doubt that she would have wanted to keep them, or at least him.

I didn't know why it hurt so much that he just said 'no' when I mentioned other babies. To me it was like he was denying another Tessa or Tristan a chance to be born. Maybe my hormones were just a little out of whack, but after making love, it felt like he was rejecting me. The man who used to listen to my ideas refused to even let me finish the thought! I wasn't talking about dozens of children, maybe just one or two more. And I certainly didn't mean immediately, I knew I would take a lot of time to heal from the surgery. I was thinking about in a few years when the twins were more mature and didn't need me as much. I was thinking that news of my successful delivery would make others try, and there would be more successes and more information to keep me even safer. When he said 'no' it made me feel like he was setting aside all the good that had happened.

I knew we'd get past it. We always managed to get around our disagreements, or at least agreed to disagree. We really were still newlyweds, and we'd never had a serious argument before – well aside from the one about me staying human until I died. I'd given him control over so much of my life, from my wardrobe to where we lived, to what we'd do from day to day. Not that I minded, I loved him and everything we did together was just one more shared memory we'd have.

I still can't believe he did it! After all my reasoning and arguing. After such a good outcome with my pregnancy and delivery. I knew he'd always been afraid of losing me, and the argument about having more babies could have been the last straw. But I can't believe he would bite me! I'd always told him if it happened I would forgive him. In Volterra I thought any day – any second it could happen. But he'd resisted almost to the point of his own death. I know he didn't have to do it! I remembered his golden eyes, and I knew he wasn't even close to hungry.

And still, I'll always remember his face, with his red eyes and the smear of blood across his chin. My blood. I remember how he looked when he pulled back from my neck, I was so drained I couldn't even close my eyes! I'd seen this look many times during our lovemaking; he was in ecstasy! Vladmir thought he'd killed me; I saw the horror in his eyes. A horror that I saw in Stefan as soon as the burning started.

My children had been born almost pain free, with anesthetic and their hypnotic singing right up til the end. I'd heard mothers who'd gone through natural childbirth describe the pain as the worst pain you'll ever experience. They claim that if you didn't forget about the pain you'd never do it again. I really did expect that, especially after talking to Bella about her own disastrous delivery. But it was fairly easy.

Even if I'd gone through two babies tearing their way out of me – even if they'd taken a wrong turn to come out through my chest or my spine – I know it wouldn't have compared to the pain he forced on me with the change. I felt as if every part of me was being torn off and dipped in acid until nothing but the raw nerve was left. Then that raw, ragged, sensitive nerve was salted. Each cell, each part of my body and my humanity was subjected to the scourging. It hurt so bad, each breath I gasped in fanned the flames until I couldn't contain the screams.

I vaguely remember he held me, only because each point of contact between us impossibly magnified the pain. I'd always been afraid of dying alone, but this death was unnatural, and being held in his arms while he tried to sooth me with his words only made it worse. I couldn't free myself or even beg him to let me go. All I could do was stare into his horrid red eyes, somehow knowing in the back of my tortured mind that I'd have the same look as soon as I was dead.

Which was the worst part of the whole process; being conscious of dying. I knew with every fiber of my being that I was dying, as if the burning wasn't enough. I knew that each cell was forgetting it's life and was being submerged in the poison that would make me into something else. Even as my muscles strained to lift my body in writhing contortions, I knew those muscles were no longer mine... were no longer human. It was as if my body was being given over to something else; something that barely acknowledged my control. No, it was something that denied my control first, then grudgingly shared, so long as I remembered who or what was really in charge.

I felt my death. Like every cord that held my place in the universe was suddenly cut. I wanted to shriek, scream, and wail, but there was nothing left but a small gasping whimper. And yet... I can still see... his red eyes trying to look compassionate. I can still hear... his words of mocking love. And I can still feel... his body... his corpse... holding my corpse. My dead, hard, reanimated corpse. I am no longer me. I am other. And he did it to me. An accident I could forgive, but his intention kills everything I feel for him. I hear my words but it isn't my voice. I move, but the movements feel so unrestrained.

I can't stay in the room and look at them. The emotions seem alien on their faces; a parody of the humanity I'll never feel again. I tear through the window, at first seeking to go through the glass at the top, but touching the wood it feels like paper to me and I easily tear through. I feel the night air calling me; scents, sounds, and even sights reflected in the light of the half moon. I can taste the life of the world as I breathe an unnecessary breath. The lushness and vibrancy of a life I'll never possess again. Out into the welcoming darkness I leap. I barely touch the roof before springing to the ground.

I hear him behind me, somehow slower and weaker than I am. Like I am a fresh, tightly wound spring and he is older and stretched out. I shoot out into the darkness, which isn't dark to me. I go west, to the only ones who can keep me from becoming a monster in deed as well as form. I hear him behind me, even though he is beyond my human limitations. I also hear Vladmir following not even a minute behind him. But I am fast, even stopping to tear the bottom of the gown off so my legs won't be encumbered. I run, picking up speed as I sprint over rocks, earth, underbrush, and fallen limbs. I see a ravine and leap across without a thought, easily clearing it.

I hear him yelling, trying to command me to return, but the compulsion is weak compared to the scent I've picked up – blood! Blood contained in human... waking up a thirst I've never felt before. Every need I've ever known as a human pales in comparison to this demanding pull. I veer to the right and pass a line of strong repellant scent, bounding over it I continue toward the scent of need and want and thirst.

The taste of the wind tells me I've misjudged. The blood isn't human! The smell is of danger and threat and... and... still blood, hidden just beneath. Closer I hear heartbeats and movement and predatory grace, both stalking me and guarding against me. And the rushing of hot blood in thick veins. The sound is overpowering, both drawing me toward it as it horrifies me. I want it with a desperation that moves my feet even as I fight to stay still.

Into a small clearing where I sense I've been lead to face the threat, the threat that holds the hot, rushing, wealth of blood I thirst for above all else. Even before they clear the trees I see them – wolves. They're giants, and I know they're not natural as they circle me. I feel the threat, but the part of me that seeks to control me wants me to fight, to kill and feast. I know I can win. The wariness of the giants telegraphs a weakness where I'm concerned; a fear of my speed and strength that makes them doubt their own ability.

Everything about the new me says 'fight, kill, and drink.' But... but... I hesitate even as I feel my fingers flex into claws. I'm not a killer! Even as the four giants approach, slowly closing the circle which will force me to fight, I know I can't... I won't kill! I want to let them come. They can finish me before I can ever take a life. But I fear the poison within me will compel me to fight. Even as they close in I can hear the call of their heartbeats and their rushing blood. The war within myself is not won.

I leap into the air, easily clearing the circle of wolves. I sprint away from them, angling toward a new smell – water. I can feel pursuit by both the wolves and the two who are like me. But I'm fast and strong and I easily outdistance them. I stop at the water's edge, staring out over the ocean under the moonlight. I've never seen a sight more beautiful. My eyesight is amazing. But it comes at too high a cost.

I hear them behind me, and soon a half circle of giants surrounds me, pressing me back toward the water where I will have no choice but to fight them. I no longer face four, but ten, and they're different. They're even more menacing. My bare feet touch the water. I've run out of places to run, and now I'll have no choice but to fight; maybe kill. NO!

I turn and leap into a dive. I clear yards of distance before cutting the water and swimming deep under the rushing waves. I don't come up for air, but angle down and out, swimming faster and stronger than a dolphin – or the following wolves. The sea stacks rise up before me and I swim around to the far side before surfacing. I climb out over wave roughened rock that would have shredded my skin only yesterday, but now it poses no threat. I climb effortlessly, with strength and speed that takes me up to the green growth on the top of the monolith.

From my high perch I can see I've not been pursued but I am being watched. They are arrayed equidistant along the beach, ready to guard against my return – ready to guard against the monster I've become. I want to cry, to release the tears that I've always been able to shed whenever my soul became too burdened with sadness, grief, loneliness, or fear. But I'll never shed another tear. Instead I wail, barely conscious of the way my unfamiliar voice carries across the water. I shriek and scream and howl at the moon even louder than the wolves on the shore. I want death, and I climb to the top where I can see the rocks and the waves below me and leap. I know I'm not human because I wouldn't have survived the fall onto the rocks below. There is pain and there is even some blood, but as the waves try to take me out, my wounds close and I am once again whole. I can't drown, I can't injure myself, and I can't trust that I won't attack those who could kill me.

I watch the water as it crashes over the rocks and the corpse that holds me prisoner. I can hear a different echo, and I climb over the sharp edges to find a small cavern. It faces the incoming tide, and I climb and swim to reach the back of it, where I wedge myself behind jagged rocks. The wolves should lose my scent, as well as anyone who comes to look for me. If I can wait long enough; if I can resist my craving to kill, I'll waste away. In two weeks Stefan was little more than a skeleton. I can last two weeks. I can allow myself to starve.

The hours go by so slowly. The waves are relentless, but I don't feel cold or even care about the wetness. I wish for sleep, but there is no sleep. There is only constant awareness and an intensity of sound and feeling and even taste. And there is thirst. A whole ocean could not quench this thirst. It is agonizing!

As the hours pass into daytime my vision is overwhelmed by the many colors and sights, even from inside the dark cavern. My vision is obviously better than it ever could have been before the change. I can see the lichen in the water, tiny schools of fish riding the waves, and even the distant sea birds gliding on air currents in the small sliver of sky I can see from my hiding place. I know better than to emerge, the thirst is too great. One of us will die in here, the need to feed, or me.

I'm existing in a nightmare. I'm alone and waiting to die, and if I could die from misery alone I would be a hollow shell. The sun sets and I realize I've been a monster for one full day. I consider swimming out into the ocean, but I fear I could indeed feed on ocean mammals, or worse I could find a boat with people who would be helpless to fight against me. I'll stay here.

The low tide at sunrise brings a surprise I never would have expected. It horrifies me to see it even as it wakes up the monster inside me. Animals have found their way to me – small rodents mostly, but they've come in answer to my silent, unconscious call. My screams don't chase them away, and when I splash water they're swept off the rocks and I'm afraid I'll drown them in my attempt to save them. They come close, maybe a dozen tiny little hearts beating in fear. I gather them to me, fighting with all I am not to drink from them. Mice, rats, and rabbits, all carried in the apron of my nightgown, as I leave the cave to carry them up to where they belong. The larger animals await and I flee from them, climbing down rocks to get away from them. My pull is magnified, bringing me the one thing I desire but don't want, blood.

I spend the day moving from place to place, trying to hide from the animals that want to die through no fault of their own. I finally climb to the top of a tall pine where I feel safe, at least so long as the birds haven't discovered me. Below me all manner of creatures gather, and I'm thankful that most of them don't climb. As day turns to night I wait, and I thirst. I start to rationalize that I could feed on the tiniest of animals, just to get me past the unreasoning thirst. A mouse or two so that I can think clearly. But there's still enough of my own mind left that I know I can never do such a thing.

It's hard at night because I can remember so many happy times with him. I miss him even as I hate him for what he's done. How could he tell me so much about his life and all it's heartbreak, and then doom me to the same? I wish there was a quicker way to end this. If I thought I could get to Volterra without killing someone, I'd go now.

As the sun comes up again, there are even more animals surrounding the base of the tree. And the thirst is pulling on me with physical claws. I remember my smug assurances to Stefan, that if it meant the death of someone I would resist. I don't look at them as animals, I think of them as challenges to my will, just as he'd done when he was faced with killing me. I play a waiting game, hoping that I can outlast the need to kill.