Heyys!
Oh frog. I am very sorry. I know this update has been so much darn later than I claimed… Argh! My life has just been one jumbled work pile really. Honestly, I'm about this close *shows tiny gap between fingers* from personally executing my teachers. They overwork me, they really do. I can't exactly talk; I was a CRAZY person who took extra subjects, which is why I've got so much. What a fool eh? Also, I'm going to New Zealand at Christmas (anyone live there? I love New Zealand!) and consequently missing 3 weeks of school, so I've got to work hard up until them. *Sigh* I'm an unsuccessful perfectionist when it comes to school. I probably work too hard, but I can't help it.
So yup. I'm overworked; I did however have this chapter practically finished on top of all that work, and sleepless nights but… well…
Then hedgehog had to just go along and commit suicide. Yes. My laptop committed suicide.
Well, its lead did. Hedgehog's tail (I can see your expressions: Tail? Trust me, there are limited ways to link a laptop lead to a hedgehog) decided to… die on me. 'Twas highly traumatic I can tell you. I was trying to print out my Biology essay at the time (I didn't manage to get it all printed out. I had to write all nine pages of it by hand and stayed up till 3am ;(…) and then the lead just… DIED. And Hedgehog had about 8% charge remaining… and oh - it was awful. Anyway. That meant I couldn't write all weekend (which is when I normally have a tiny bit of free time) - but hey! Hedgehog officially has a new tail. It's large and bulky. I think it suits him. :P
So with school work, a dead hedgehog and failing internet, this chapter had to be postponed. But LOOK! It's here now, shining and new, so don't kill me just yet ;p
For those who are still reading this: thank you so much for all of the support, not to mention patience. I really appreciate it. It's nice to know people even read the stuff I write - let alone take up their time to review :D
Oh, and before you read on - there's a reason why the cookbook mentioned in this chapter has a title related to Harry Potter - it's because I'm incredibly sad, and very easily amused, and I was sitting there giggling as I wrote that. ;) Nelephant Points to whoever can find the connection!
And here's the chappy!
What Happened Last Chapter:
"Look at that and then tell me he 'doesn't care'…"
She pushed the book into my hands, and a tiny gasp escaped me. This was my sketchbook. The very same one I'd dropped all that time ago in the forest when I'd seen Bella and Edward. My fingers started to tremble; I turned the page, recognising my rough sketches of inanimate objects. Flicking past the one of him in a meadow, and then stopping dead when I saw images that I'd never drawn.
There were about five of them. One on each page. Meticulously drawn portraits with a detail I'd never been able to master in art woven in to them. Each one had a tiny annotation at the bottom, written in that same elegant script that I'd come to associate with only one person. I read them through blurred eyes, not surprised when a tear hit the parchment.
Edward Cullen: Illumination.
On each of those five pages, there was a drawing of me.
***
The Smattering of Scarlet
Lucie's POV:
I was left staring at the parchment, almost transfixed. A thousand questions buzzed around my head, so forcefully I wanted to scream. The page was splattered with salty droplets now, and continued to be hit, as the tears trailed down my cold cheeks.
"This…" I fought down the shakes in my voice, "This… it's not-"
"Not you?" Rosalie asked, but the harshness had left it, it was quiet and soft now, not quite concerned, but not scornful either. "It is you Lucie. Edward's drawn you pretty damn accurately; he's too talented for his own good - let's leave it at that."
"No…" I said slowly, "I know it's me… but, I don't look like that." My sentence contradicted itself, but by now I was gone past caring.
"What do you mean?" Rosalie asked, taking the scrapbook gently out of my numb hands. I was glad she did. It felt like a heavy weight, like I wasn't supposed to have seen it. I felt like I'd invaded some privacy or something, crossed an unknown line. Rosalie's voice was very soft when she spoke. "It looks exactly like you Lucie..."
"No," I shook my head, "it doesn't, see - my hair looks nicer, I'm smiling, my eyes look prettier, I just look better here. I'm not really like that. Not at all."
"You have a nice smile," She said softly. "That's probably why he drew it."
She handed it back to me, but I felt sick, that wasn't me. That could never be me. I would never be like that, pretty and happy and safe. I flung the thing across the room, and it fell clattering, too loudly for the silence, to the floor, and then I was crying harder, hot tears staining my already wet cheeks, flowing down harder and faster to the carpeted floor.
"I'm not her…" I choked, wanting the floor to swallow me whole.
"Yes you are." She assured, "That's just how he sees you."
Again, the overwhelming urge to just scream nearly overtook me. It was like some sick mind game. Just after I'd convinced myself he wanted nothing more to do with me, just after I'd told myself that I didn't want anymore to do with him…
He goes and does - draws in this case - something like that…
"Why me?" I cried in indignation, ire boiling inside me at this… thoughtlessness. "Why, why not someone who does look like that? Why did he have to do this?! Why didn't he draw someone that is perfect, like Alice, or Esme, or you?" My rage was met by her silence, but the calm had left, the now only the howling wind could express my inner turmoil.
"I'm not perfect Lucie." Rosalie said, and it was like the ice had formed again inside her, making her voice sharp and cold. "That's why Edward didn't draw me. I doubt he'd see beauty in any of my features."
"Why? You look like an angel." I blurted out, before I could stop myself. I knew of course, that beauty meant nothing on the outside to most decent people, least of all to Edward, and I wasn't someone who judged people purely on looks. Still, what I'd said was true. Rosalie skin was flawless, unblemished and the sheen of pearls, unlike my own pasty alabaster, marred by the infrequent dusting of freckles on my arms, and the pattern of bruises on my skin. That, combined with her figure and face made her look like an angel - she only needed the halo to be complete.
And in those few brief seconds, Rosalie's face was alit, by a tiny genuine, and radiant smile.
"Emmett thought so too." She said softly, but the smile had slipped from her lips; her perfectly proportioned face twisted into a pained expression, tinged with a darkness that angels could never bear.
She danced across the room to me, twirling so that her hair shined silver through the ribbon of light emitted from window, and she whispered in my ear.
"'It is by suffering that human beings become angels.' - It's ironic really, how true that is. In reflection on how much I suffered through to become this way…though it only applies here in my looks, the transformation did nothing inside." She danced back into view, and there was a strange, regretful look in her golden eyes. She walked, slower than I had ever seen her move, to Edward's door. "I am no angel Lucie, I never will be."
And with those words, I was left alone.
***
Edward's POV:
We'd made some progress; the terrain was changing the further we went. Unease however, pricked along the base if my spine. There was something biting at me inside, making me feel uncertain and edgy. Though this wasn't really the most pressing of issues, more so was how goddamn annoying the idiot dog was.
He'd been keeping up the string of grumbles, distinctly blasphemous exclamations, curses, snide-leech-related comments, and more for hours now. It was only so long before I would snap. I sped ahead again; it was about the only vindictive satisfaction I could get at the moment. Every so often I'd get a good few meters away from him - enough so that his petty thoughts became easy to ignore, but each time I'd have to go back. After all, we were a team.
The thought made me feel positively ill.
I sighed slightly; I'd spurred on ahead too fast again. I leaned casually against a tree, so the dog liked to jibe? Well, two could play at that game. Jacob sped into view, his giant wolf form not in the least bit intimidating and reeking of dog. He snorted loudly at the sight of me.
Tired leech? Huh, funny - I never thought dead things got weary. Oh, Hilarious Jacob, really, just hilarious.
"I was waiting for you actually," I gritted out, still keeping the same stance, "appears you need more exercise, you're losing your touch a bit when it comes to running." Jacob growled, baring his teeth.
Yeah well at least I don't feel the need to boost my ego by sprinting ahead every few seconds, when in fact that just wastes time. You know, if I didn't know better - I'd say you were intimidated by me leech, afraid you're not man-enough?
I laughed bitterly, "Intimidated? Not 'man-enough'? And this is coming from an oversized pup?"
He just growled again and started bounding through the trees; I caught up easily, practically jogging against his strides. I looked at him, smirking. Jacob didn't retort, but his thoughts acted as an effective enough comeback. It was at least one that made me feel the need to retch.
Oh stop your staring, will you? One would think you were attracted to me with all your surreptitious little side glances. And trust me, the last thing I need right now is for you become homosexual.
My lips thinned to a line. Not. Funny. That was just sickening. I had nothing against gay people - but the idea of him and me? Of me being attracted to a dirty, obnoxious, fleabag? I set my jaw, only just refraining from kicking the dog, sprinting ahead again, not waiting like usual for him to catch up.
Teamwork, I thought bitterly, it's not worth it.
***
Lucie's POV:
I hated this. I had never, ever, in my entire existence felt so goddamn useless. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't go to school (sad though the prospect was) for Carlisle had explained to me the complications that would arise. "Just wait until everything settles again, I promise things will return to normal." I'd held my tongue at his words, because in all honestly I was sure that even he knew that things wouldn't 'settle' nicely.
Still, just sitting was driving me insane. A combination of guilt and worry twisted in my gut, eventually, I wrenched myself free of the sofa, determined to at least talk to someone. Everyone seemed to be avoiding me like the plague at the moment, treading carefully around me like I was something precious and fragile.
It was excruciatingly annoying.
I ran down through the halls, muttering about the universal unfairness of being human in general, before skidding to a halt outside the kitchen door. My sock clad feet slipping slightly on the polished wooden floorboards. Food, I decided, really couldn't hurt right now. After all, regaining strength was one of my highest priorities at the moment, wasn't it?
I swung open the kitchen door, to find Emmett sitting at a table - staring, in evident confusion, at a large round chocolate cake…
Well. I mused silently; I never saw that one coming.
"I just… can't see the appeal." He muttered at my arrival, and, quite childishly I wanted to cheer. Finally, someone who won't treat me like porcelain. I hopped onto the chair next to him, noting a large cookbook entitled 'Fantastic Cakes and How to Bake Them' situated on his lap. My eyebrows rose.
"I mean," He continued, gesturing to the neat chocolate swirls of icing (that, I might add, looked delicious) framing the perimeter. "How are those meant to be - as the cook book describes it - 'mouth-watering'? They're the same complexion as mud."
I smiled wryly.
"You know, I never thought I'd see you making cakes Emmett, you didn't strike me as the baking type…" A full blown grin broke out on my face at the image of Emmett whipping cake mixture in a pink apron forming in my mind.
"I didn't; Esme made them." Emmett said distractedly. The happy picture popped.
"That's not nearly as comical as I imagined it." I mumbled, pouting slightly.
"Do you find it at all appealing?" He said suddenly, turning to face me with interest.
"If it tastes as good as it looks - then that's one heck of a yummy cake."
"Really?" Emmett asked, sounding genuinely perplexed, "You think it looks good? What - even with the-" He made a grimace, pointing at one of the violet and blue iced flowers, "…decorations…"
For an answer, I picked one off and placed it on my tongue, letting the iced flower melt there and licked my lips, letting out an: "Mhmm…"
Emmett shook his head disbelievingly.
"Humans…" He muttered, shaking his head, "Who'd of thought they'd get pleasure out of eating…garishly coloured flowers, I expect you're going to tell me this sticky-" he prodded the caramel icing "Stuff, is tasty too, huh?" I nodded.
I pulled my legs up onto the chair so I was sitting Indian-style, feeling great appreciation to Esme, the tiny iced flower was delicious, and I was sure the rest of the cake would be too. For the first time in what felt like days, I was fully awake. Sure, my ribs still ached, and I could barely feel my left arm, but hey - I was standing (figuratively speaking anyway) that had to account for something. I looked both at Emmett when I said my next words, determined to get an answer out of him. "Where is Edward?"
I saw Emmett, for the first time ever, look nervous. I continued, determined to drill an answer out of him.
"In fact; where exactly is he and what is he doing?"
It didn't take long for Emmett to regain composure. He sighed; it was sigh that told me I was completely and utterly useless. I waited. He let another out a gust of frustrated air, cocking his right eyebrow. I couldn't help it. A part of me just snapped.
"What?" I mumbled, slightly huffily at his exasperated expression.
"Well, my guess is that Edward is currently running to Italy."
"Oh," I exhaled loudly, abruptly feeling annoyed that his exasperation was because I'd seemingly over looked that point. (Well, that and the fact that he hadn't lowered his flipping eyebrow!) "Well there's a stroke of genius!"
"You know, I really don't appreciate the sarcasm," Emmett said, in what passed as a slightly wounded tone. He'd changed his facial expression and voice so fast, in the way that only good actors could do. "Here I go," He adopted a lofty air, gesturing wildly with his massive hands, "offering helpful suggestions to your question, and you thrust sarcasm upon me! The cheek of it." Emmett's voice had a ring of something that didn't at all suit his normal persona. It was, unmistakably, formal.
The absurdity of Emmett's tone had me momentarily silenced, I stared at him, slightly open mouthed. There was a pause before Emmett started to look slightly worried, "You know I was joking, right Luce?" I nodded slightly. "Don't ever try and impersonate Edward again Emmett, please."
He chuckled lightly, before turning back to the cake.
I tried to think on Emmett's words. He was right of course; Edward would be running to Italy. Jacob and he would meet Jasper there, and Alice too perhaps, where they would unite and try to save Bella. Raw fear twisted in me at this thought, just four of them… and Alice - smaller than others by more than a foot - being one of them. Surely that wasn't enough to confront the Volturi? Let alone reclaim Bella from them… In fact, the more I looked into the thought, the more preposterous it seemed. It was crazy for them to even attempt it. Three vampires and one werewolf trying to take on the entire Volturi guard…
But then again, would Edward - Jacob too - have had it any other way? My dad's words - spoken when I was seven and a half, on looking at him soaked wet waiting for my mum outside a station - finally made sense. The conversation rang, clear as crystal, in my mind.
I'd ran out of the little bus shelter to him, the hood of my coat falling off in the hail and wind - my hair flying out and lashing my face.
"Why are you in the rain daddy? Why don't we stay at home and wait? Mummy can c-catch a t-taxi, c-can't she? This is c-c-cr" My teeth had chattered violently against the cold, something that was odd for me, who rarely felt the cold - even in the midst of winter. "Daddy - this is crazy! And not in a good crazy way either."
He smiled down at me, water droplets like crystals in his dark hair, he bent down till we were at eye level, wiping away some raindrops that had splattered onto my cheeks with his thumb, and pulling my hood back over my head. He even took off his own coat to wrap around me so that all he was left with was a shirt and trousers, his tanned skinned prickling all over with goose-bumps. I tried to protest, he was obviously freezing - but he started talking before I could say anything.
"Because that's what love does, sweetie. It makes you do crazy things."
I was brought out my memory sharply, Emmett's booming voice sounding loudly next to me.
"It really takes the point out of everything, don't you think?"
"I'm sorry? What?" I said, feeling a bit dizzy.
"The cake. What's the point in having food if you don't even have to hunt for it? Huh? You can't seriously tell me that cooking is as enjoyable as hunting can you? I mean, alright, sometimes you get to, I don't know unleash your anger on cutting up carrots or something… but cakes don't even have carrots in them. Unless there's a demented thing like carrot cake." he snorted at the absurdity of it all. "But that's pretty unlikely."
"Oh," I sighed weakly once I realised what Emmett was on about. "No… I, I don't suppose it is as… fun…" I trailed off, my forehead furrowing in confusion. Where had that memory come from? I hadn't had memories as sharp as that since my mum…but I blocked out that thought, feeling hot, tears pricking at my eyes. Jeesh, Lucie, get a grip…
"Luce?" Emmett asked, sounding concerned. "You okay? You're looking sort of pasty, sorry - I didn't mean to make you feel ill. I forgot humans don't tend to like the mention of hunting and killing stuff-"
"No," I said, to my horror, my voice sounded thick, "No - it's not - it's nothing like that."
"What is it then?" To my surprise, his voice was uncharacteristically concerned.
I clutched at straws, not quite willing to admit the truth.
"Err…Edward…" I said, somewhat uncertainly. He wasn't the reason why I was close to tears, that was my mother, the same woman who I'd shouted out for in my sleep, but I didn't want to think of her. Besides - I was worried sick about Edward anyway; it was a good enough excuse.
"What about him?"
"I'm afraid for him," I said quietly, "He'll get hurt - and, well, we didn't exactly leave on a good note…" My mind trailed back to before in Edward's bedroom, and Rosalie's words rang in my ears. I ignored them. Sure, her argument was pretty substantial, Edward had cared for me, it was the thing that drove him to draw those pictures. Still, the fact remained very clear. He had cared for me back then, back when the complications were small and unbidden. Had. Past tense. He didn't anymore, not with how I'd acted, not when I'd distracted him from protecting Bella…
"He'll get over it." Emmett said with a shrug, "I mean, I know he's stubborn - the amount of times I've tried to make him share his mountain lion with me proves as much - but he'll come around. I'm sure he adores you really." Adoration? Right! Likely, that one.
"No, he's pretty… mad at me, to say the least."
"Nah, Edward's probably just covering up some deep founded love or something - he does that."
"I doubt it." I whispered quietly, utterly serious, despite his joking tone. "You didn't see his face Emmett… I don't think he can forgive me for what happened."
"Yeah well everyone knows Edward should be more magnanimous." I turned to Emmett is shock. "What?" He questioned, "Shocked I have such an awesome vocabulary?" I laughed despite myself, though the sound was hollow to my ears. After a moments pause, I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I looked up at Emmett, realising suddenly that the gesture wasn't meant to be condescending, but kind.
"Luce, he'll come back, you know that right?"
I smiled weakly back at him.
"Sure."
***
Edward's POV:
Edward! You have to go back, you - we - have to stop him!
The thought hit me clearly and sharply. I recognised its owner instantly; our close bound having strengthened the telepathic connection. Instantly, I knew something was terribly wrong.
Jacob however, did not.
"I suppose you wouldn't understand. You are, after all, a life sucking monster. A life sucking monster incidentally, who I am talking to," Jacob made a disgusted sort of grunt, "I can't believe this," He muttered darkly before continuing. "But yeah, Life sucking monsters tend not to care much about others welfare in my experience. You're too wrapped up in yourself, that or the thing you're sucking the life out of-"
But I droned out Jacob, what had seemed like an impossible task before seemed effortless to what lay ahead. His thoughts and petty comments meant nothing in comparison to the other ones I could hear.
She's not safe. It was a ruse. A plan…
But they were too disjointed for me to understand, frantic fragments of worry and danger that she was shouting in her mind. The Volturi had an ulterior motive, Edward… Her thoughts whirring too fast for to decipher.
That was when I saw her silhouette at through the trees. My eyesight was already immaculate, and yet my senses seemed to have intensified as I analysed her movements. Simultaneously noting how Jacob's stance became rigid, finally realising why I'd stopped still, his head snapping upwards from his scuffed feet to look at who I was staring at. His nose wrinkled as he smelt her scent, his own mind deciding whether to phase or not in the presence of another vampire. Setting his jaw in what could only be contempt.
Her tiny figure wove through the trees effortlessly, but there was an edge to her usual lope, it was anxious and hurried, tarnishing its normal ballerina-like perfection.
When she was within two meters from us she stopped. Alice's normal bubbly persona had vanished. She looked at me, not bothering to speak. Her face if at all possible, looked paler than usual. Horror, shame and fear chased each other across her features, twisting into a grimace of what I knew to be trepidation and terror.
Her thoughts were coherent now. But they were shrill, matching her expression.
They're coming for her, Edward. I'm so behind everything! it's like I can only see things after its too late for me to change their outcome… but not this time, I can't let their plans come true - oh what am I doing?! Listen: Aro's sent him. He ordered him to take her while you tried to save Bella. He plans to hold both of them captive. He wants to make you choose between them. There's not much time, you've got to get to her, now-
"Who?" I asked despite myself, already knowing the answer.
Lucie. Go, please Edward, there's no time!
"No." I said slowly, Alice's eyes sparked in vexation.
"What?" She hissed, "Edward. No - we don't have time for this - stop being prejudice, Jasper's there already; I had to leave him, so that he can stop it if it gets any worse. And I left to tell you, there's no time Edward. And anyway he-" She pointed at wildly Jacob, "will get Bella - you need to get Lucie before-"
"You know it's rude to point." Jacob cut across her angrily.
"Shut up!" Alice yelled at him, losing her normal calm, the fire in her gaze stopping Jacob from interrupting further. I heard his thoughts as if from far away. Crazy. She's actually crazy. I should have realised there was something wrong, she is freakishly small… My own mind was racing, but my brain was sluggish, unable to think straight as her wide eyes obscured my thoughts yet again.
"Edward," Alice advanced to me, gripping my arm, "Please. You can't just say 'no' not now, not when-"
"I didn't mean that." My voice was quiet. My brain still too slow. "I mean-" God, why couldn't I think?! "I mean who - who did Aro send?"
"He's sent-"
But I didn't ever get to hear who Aro had sent. Because right that second I had three different thoughts that weren't mine crashing into my head. Alice's, Jacob's and my own were all on the same train of thought - having heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the distance.
But there was another set of thoughts. Darker, sharper and hungrier than ours.
And that was the precise moment in which Victoria sauntered into the clearing.
***
(A/N: Alright, I'm going to admit something: I don't care if this ruins the drama for you. I couldn't resist this little POV switch. Technically, it's important: it shows how different Lucie and Edward's situations are at the moment. Consider it as a 'meanwhile…' type thing. *that didn't make sense, did it?* Anyway, I'll shut up - I'm sure I'll be the only one who finds this funny, but meh, ah well, like I said - I'm easily amused ;p)
Lucie's POV:
"Luce. I hereby name this cake: The mud cake. What d'you think of the title?"
"I think you've lost it. Officially lost it. You're absolutely certifiable."
"Probably so, but that's not really the topic of discussion, is it? I'm sure Carlisle would happily chat to you about such matters, but I - on the other hand - have another question, also related to this here aptly named mud cake." He sat up brusquely, pointing with one large hand at the cake and indicating the caramel icing once more. "You never told me, what is that?"
"That would be icing Emmett."
***
Edward's POV:
Wisps of scarlet flicked impatiently around her ashen face as she slunk, confidently and gracefully towards us. She still had that same lope of a feline as she prowled across the rough terrain easily, sinuous as a serpent as she finally came to a halt, leaving us roughly two meters apart. A slow grin worked its way up to her ruby red lips as she met my eyes.
Her name left my mouth in a hiss.
"Victoria."
Alice gave out a tiny, almost inaudible, moan. Her mind was screaming in protest at me. Oh god Edward, no! No do not get distracted. It's what she wants, for all we know the Volturi and her could be working together! Look, I can deal with this - please - you have to go back. Don't get aggravated- but I blocked her out. This situation was different. This was Victoria, the vampire who'd tried to kill Bella, tried to kill Lucie, and who was about to get killed by me.
Victoria seemed delighted at my quick recognition.
"So glad you remember," She drawled in that girlish voice - a voice, incidentally, that seemed so ill-fitting to her harsh and sleek exterior. A tiny girl inside the body of a killer. "I've been simply dying to see you again Edward - you too Alice - isn't it just perfect we could meet up again?"
"Yes," I growled through clenched teeth, "Just peachy."
***
Lucie's POV:
I couldn't exactly say how I'd come to be sitting across from Carlisle, but I could probably explain why. Ever since my (albeit slightly crazy) talk with Emmett my head had been buzzing. For some reason, I craved - quite irrationally - some conversation with someone. In short, I wanted a distraction; I'd had enough thinking for a lifetime. The only problem was, Emmett claimed that all his studying (if that was what staring at a cake for over half an hour was called) had made him hungry, and he stated - very bluntly - that: "I'm not sure people would be too chuffed if I ate you." which, naturally, made me feel just brilliant.
Unease was the dominant emotion at the moment really. I had the nagging suspicion that people were tiptoeing around me, scared I was going to make a break for it or something. I didn't exactly jump for joy at the idea of confiding in Rosalie; in fact I'd been doing my best to avoid her ever since she'd talked in Edward's room. So with her out of the question, Emmett off hunting, Alice and Jasper God knows where in Italy, I only really had two options left.
Carlisle or Esme.
In most circumstances, I would have picked the latter in a heartbeat, but the simple fact of the matter was that now… I couldn't. There was something, like a little bug in the back of my head, which would fill me with suspicion whenever I thought of her. Something - and I didn't have a clue as to what - wasn't right.
And so I'd ended up here. Sitting uncomfortably in a chair from Carlisle, fidgeting every few seconds and shivering despite the warmth of the room. I hadn't even sought out Carlisle, he had come to me. Questions burning in behind his golden eyes.
Questions, I mentally chanted to myself, that you are going to answer this time.
Carlisle smiled warmly at me, gently placing a tray on a coffee-table between us, laden with biscuits and the cake Esme had made earlier. Unfortunately, my previous appetite seemed to have abated. I was full up; large, unruly butterflies were squirming in my stomach. Ha! Butterflies my foot… these are snakes, either that or dementedly large bugs, whoever had the nerve to class the writhing sensation as butterflies was definitely-
"Tea?" Carlisle asked, I gladly took the warm mug from him, inwardly groaning that the mad turn my thoughts had taken. (And no - my attempt at drinking coffee hadn't lasted that long, I'd resorted back to good old tea.) He studied me for a moment, while I sipped at it, then, after a pause: "Erm… would like, if my English is quite correct, a biscuit?" He said the last word a little uncertainly.
I took one from the tray eating it purely to appease him, I wasn't hungry, as previously mentioned because of the demented-stomach-bugs. Carlisle smiled warmly again, and I smiled back, but it turned into more of a grimace the instant he turned away.
Here we go...
***
"Is there, perhaps, something you can remember about your mother… Something that didn't seem normal?" His voice held that calm, collected tone of an interrogator. And my heart had the same, frenzied pace of a criminal. Distractedly I cradled the tea in my hands, letting it warm them rather than having to drink it.
Just answer already!
"I-I'm not sure." I said quietly, inwardly cursing my stupid stuttering. "I'm sorry," I sighed, "I'll tell you whatever I can. I'm not going to turn into a nervous wreck if you talk about her." Carlisle looked though he wasn't sure about that, which, I'll admit, was probably the only normal assumption to make. What with the emotional state I'd adopted recently. That and the way I'd just stuttered. I mentally kicked myself.
Still, his involuntary patronising expression of sympathy made me set my jaw defensively. I didn't need pity, and I didn't want it either. Still, it didn't tale him long to start firing of questions. Sympathy, Carlisle was full of. Tact? Not so much.
"How, exactly, did you say your mother died?"
And there's the killer question.
"I didn't say." I mumbled. Carlisle merely waited for my answer. I exhaled deeply, gearing myself up to talk about it, noting how pathetic I was. "She hanged herself." I said quietly, staring into Carlisle's face to prevent the images of her hanging lifeless…
Carlisle seemed shocked by this.
"And you… you saw this? The police, hospital - they didn't tell you afterwards? You actually saw it?" I didn't know what to make of his fervent tone.
"Yeah." My voice had that dead, emotionless ring to it. "I saw it."
"I'm…" Carlisle's and looked as though it was ready to reach out to me, but at the last moment he ran it through his hair awkwardly, "I'm very sorry for your loss." I just nodded, now fully regretting the decision to talk to him.
"Well," Carlisle said, evidently searching for a lighter memory, "Do you have any memories where your mother seemed upset?" I wanted to roll my eyes, so much for a lighter memory… "Sorry," Carlisle apologised, correcting himself, "I mean: do you have many Childhood memories of her? Ones where you could tell how she was feeling?"
I frowned slightly at the difficult question.
"She was… happy." I said cautiously, racking my head for the memories I'd pushed away so many times. "At least, I used to always think she was when I was little…D-dad loved her, loads. He would sit by me on the bed, and he'd be hugging her, and kissing my forehead at the same time - and he'd say how lucky he was, to love two beautiful angels, and for them to love him in return. And I used to always ask mum what he meant by that, because there were no angels in our house, I kept repeating: 'Where are they? Where are the angels?' and I used to look for them, imagining their beauty and wings…" I closed my eyes, smiling slightly, "Of course, he meant that he had us. He had mum and me."
I reopened my eyes, slightly shocked to see Carlisle sitting across from me, for a few moments, I'd felt like I was seven again, young and blissfully ignorant.
"Do you have more memories, more like that?" Carlisle prompted after a moment of silence. For some reason, a bubble of panic rose in my chest, my clothes suddenly felt too tight, and some irrational anxiety soared.
"Well," I said, my voice quavering "She made me muffins once, when I saw seven, and I remember her playing with me when I was seven…and…then, after my eighth birthday I can't remember…" To my horror, hot tears were forming in my eyes and they were burning. I fought stubbornly to hold them back, but I couldn't control my hitch in breath. I waited silently to regain composure, and thankfully, Carlisle didn't interrupt. "Sometimes I don't understand any of it… I don't remember parts of my childhood, young adolescence even, and I don't know why…"
"Sometimes," Carlisle said softly, his arm raised as if he'd considered wrapping it around my trembling frame, "when the mind has experienced something particularly upsetting, or traumatic, it blocks it out…like a defence mechanism I suppose." His words were kind, he was kind, but the question still bubbled to my lips nonetheless.
"Is that why then?" I asked quietly, fighting back not only tears now. Dark and disturbing images were flitting through my thoughts, fighting against the weak barriers I'd placed against them; determined to break through. "Is it because my past was…" I couldn't think of how to phrase it, "bad?"
"Not bad, but… shadowed perhaps." Carlisle mused beside me. "But the important thing is to forget. Do not let your past control your life, let your present rule it. My past was perhaps the darkest of our entire coven. I was alone in my suffering, in my desolation," He seemed to be talking more to himself now, "but I carried on, ruthless as I was. I fought back against those dark thoughts, sought light against the perpetual night. A hard thing to do, I might add, when you are consumed by an everlasting hunger. A thirst for blood, one that has driven many mad with desire. But I fought it. I found that solitude increased depression and my dark state of mind, so I sought company. I discovered that humans didn't have to be slain by my hand. I chose to save lives instead of end them. I found Edward, then my beautiful wife…"
He smiled, slightly grimly at me, "You must remember that even those with the darkest pasts, can have the brightest future."
"But what if…" I said my voice higher than usual, uncertainty breaking through me before I could completely quell it. "What if you didn't even know your past? What if all you were left with was shattered slices? Pieces to a long forgotten and broken puzzle…" I looked up at Carlisle, now more than ever, desperate for an answer.
"Possibly," He mused gently, standing up from the beige armchair, "It is better this way. Perhaps seeing only part of your memories is better than having them all. You can cherish the good, and forget the bad."
I bit back the retort that sprang to my lips. That I wanted, more than anything, to forget it all. That it was worse having memories of happiness, far worse than memories of despair. Happy memories were the sort that made you feel bitter and alone, I couldn't forget them. They burned in my mind, refusing to let me forget how my life had once been. I could deal with sad memories, dark ones even. I could lock them up somewhere in my mind; keep them hidden underneath trivial nonsense. But the happy ones could never be buried, burning brightly in cruel mockery of what once had been.
Carlisle had become oddly still next to me, his movement from getting out of the chair stopped. I didn't look at him, biting my tongue, refusing to tell him what I thought. That I hated being trapped between two places; hated having disjointed memories and a fragmented past; hated being left alone in the dark.
But I plastered on a small smile, the kind that slips off your lips the instant the other turns away, and looked into Carlisle's eyes, hoping that my own didn't give away the truth.
"Yeah, I guess it is."
***
Edward's POV:
I wanted to kill her. Right now.
"Oh," Victoria looked to my left, "And you've invested in a puppy too. How lovely."
Jacob next to me began to shake, his entire body trembling, so violently it looked like he was about to just…explode.
He did.
In a shower of smattering bright light, Jacob phased, a wolf erupting out of him, leaving what was left of his clothes as tattered shreds at fabric near the floor. He bared his teeth, growling so fiercely at Victoria, I was surprised she didn't step back. He couldn't speak now, but his thoughts rang clearer and louder than ever.
Oh, I assure you girl-leech… I'm no puppy.
Despite the seriousness - not to mention danger - of the current predicament, it was very hard not to stifle a laugh at that.
Victoria's gaze lingered on Jacob with a certain amount of interest, and a considerably larger percentage of undisguised contempt. I searched her thoughts to see what she was planning, but it was becoming increasingly hard to do so when Alice was practically yelling things at me. I made out a snide: 'I never much liked dogs' from Victoria before Alice spoke.
"Leave Victoria, this is our territory. You're trespassing."
"Oooh," She cooed, quite clearly delighted at Alice's tone, "You've become so much feistier since I last saw you, little Alice. So tiny and sweet… shame that you aren't very useful, not much power in those little limbs of yours I imagine. Bored of being the Cullens' star freak yet?" Alice didn't retort, but her stance became stiffer.
"We outnumber you. Leave."
"Leave? Oh, I think not."
Jacob snarled, pawing the earth with his paws - each adorned with razor sharp talon-like claws. His thoughts were nearly as incoherent as his growling:
I'm going to kill her. She's dead, completely dead, disgusting, putrid, ginger bloodsucker-
"And what," She sneered, actually moving closer to Jacob, in response to his feral snarl, "Is that supposed to mean? You ugly great brute-" I was quite sure Jacob was about to launch at her, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alice place a tiny white hand on his russet fur.
The notion struck me as beyond odd. Close, Alice and Jacob were - quite undeniably - not. Agreed, Alice was perhaps, on slightly better terms than I when it came to Jacob - though admittedly this wasn't much of a feat. All the same, she didn't seriously think that she was permitted to pet him now, did she?
Abruptly though, understanding hit me in the form of Alice's thoughts. They were flickering in the way they only did when she was having a vision. And the truth struck me; she was touching Jacob for support. I wanted, desperately, to see what Alice was foreseeing, but Victoria's presence was reminded once more with a girlish cough. I couldn't alert her to what was happening. She can't notice what's happening with Alice, or she'll try to stop it…
I glared at her, unafraid to let her see how much I despised her, her crimson eyes danced.
"Care to translate, Edward dear?" She cooed, batting her eyelashes.
It really did take all of my willpower, not to just kill her there and then. But something about the way Alice was standing, and the fact that Jacob - who wasn't the calmest of people by a long shot - had restrained from attacking her, made me stop.
"Translation: Attack, and you die," I supplied, furiously flitting through her head and trying to get past the initial trivial thoughts running through her mind that were concentrated on the conversation.
"Well," She grinned wider still, "We can't have that, can we? Besides, who said anything about attacking? What led you to that assumption?"
"Perhaps the fact that each time we've met - enjoyable though the experiences undoubtedly were" - Victoria smirked -"you've always had a motive to kill someone I care about."
"Care about? Oh goodness, I don't think I've ever heard you so soft Edward…" She let out a tinkling, chilling, little giggle. My teeth were clenched shut very tight; it was a miracle I could speak at all.
"Quit with the subject changes. Leave. Now."
"But why would I do that? I do simply adore Forks you know… perhaps it's the scenery?"
"You. Are. Outnumbered."
Victoria beamed; her lips curling back to reveal the pearly white teeth, stained pinkish from her last victim. I felt a sensation like ice water trickling down my spine.
"Oh, but am I?"
Three things happened simultaneously then.
Alice gasped - finally, it seemed, breaking free from her vision - and spun to me, clutching my arm with enough force to splinter wood. Jacob roared, springing towards Victoria in a mad whirl of fury. And six, hungry, newborn vampires emerged from behind the trees - each of their eyes a glowing red.
"Yes," Victoria purred, as she advanced within a foot from me, now in synchronisation with several others.
Oh Christ…
"I think it must be the scenery."
***
Lucie's POV:
It had been over and hour since Carlisle had questioned me, since I'd remembered her, but my headache hadn't abated, not in the slightest.
I wasn't entirely sure what I was meant to do now, part of me was hell-bent on escaping, wanting to just… do something productive. Wondering around aimlessly in the halls of the expansive house did nothing to curb my impatience. I'd resorted to the bathroom, and had been grasping the sink ever since, as if staring into my own tarnished reflection would help.
Staring into my muddy hazel eyes, pasty face, and the tightly fitted bodice top did nothing for me. I wrenched my hands free from the marble sink, switching instead to pacing, furiously up and down the limited space. Heck, I wanted answers! I wanted to know where my father was; where Edward was; why my mum seemed to crop up in just about every conversation I had nowadays; and why I felt so… lost.
And that's when I heard them.
"Who do you think I'm talking about? Lucie of course!"
The room's tiled walls were thick - that much I was sure of. I knew the Cullens wouldn't have picked cheap walls for their house, but all same, I could still hear. And that only meant one thing: who ever was speaking, was doing so very loudly.
I stopped my pacing of the room. Standing dead still. I strained my ears, but I couldn't hear anymore. Carlisle,I thought, that's who was shouting… but why? Curiosity drove me, quietly, I stepped out of the bathroom, tiptoeing out onto the landing and freezing when I realised I could hear them again.
"There has to be another reason," I heard him insisting, "She can't be desired so badly just because of her gift, surely! Aro's views of power may be warped Esme, but he is intelligent, that much we cannot deny. I know him. He wouldn't be risking all he's worked for purely because he covets the power of the past."
"Leave it Carlisle," Esme said, her voice uncharacteristically unsteady. "He does want her…" I heard Carlisle attempt to interrupt, but Esme continued, her voice unusually strained, "He won't stop. He wants her for her gift but-" She struggled for words, "…but It's not just that." She sounded faint; a mixture of uttermost concern and suspicion was crawling over me.
"What?" I heard the sound of Carlisle's footsteps abruptly stop. He sounded more confused than ever "Esme? Do you know something? What else is there?"
"Yes." I said, finally plucking up the courage to enter the room. They both snapped their heads round to look at me, Carlisle looking, if possible, more confused than before at not hearing me. "What else?"
"Lucie…" Esme whispered, her bottom lip trembling, "I'm so sorry… I promise if I'd figured it out sooner, if I'd known…" She looked, though it was impossible, close to tears, her voice cracking in emotion.
Carlisle looked, for the first time since I'd met him, utterly lost.
***
Edward's POV:
I don't know what I should have suspected to what was going to happen next. One would assume I should have foreseen what was going to happen easily; what with being able to read everyone's mind. I didn't though. And even if I'd thought up the most elaborate of guesses, none could compare to what actually happened…
Jacob's attempt to attack Victoria was blocked by a shock of black hair, flying past as a newborn sprang forward - speed and power in her limbs, fuelled by the energy that blood gave to newborns. He was catapulted backwards, growling louder than ever and lashing out at whoever had attacked him. The newborn was thrown off him, hitting a tree opposite before springing back to Jacob.
Jacob had the advantage, but he hesitated when the faint light fell over her face. Although it was twisted in an expression wild and feral, there was no way to deny that the black-haired girl - no older than Jacob himself - was beautiful. Pain swam in his thoughts.
Hell, how can I kill her? She doesn't even look like she knows were she is...She couldn't have wanted this sucky, morbid, bloodsucking life… And yet his split hesitation caused her to ram into his side, knocking the great wolf to the ground - and abruptly the shock that I was just standing there, paralysed and observing their fight hit me.
But before I could act, and fight off someone myself, Alice had dug her nails into my wrist. And it dawned on me that she was talking to me (urgently at that) her voice higher still.
"Oh Edward, listen will you?! You have to move-" her sentence was cut off when she darted out of the way, pulling me along with her. A split second later, the black-haired girl Jacob had been fighting collided against a trunk that had previously been directly behind us. "Listen - get to Carlisle, tell him that Aro's plan is to-" She was cut off again, looking so mad when a particularly feral newborn swiped at her dress I thought she'd burst. "Oh you just need to go - we can deal with this-" I turned to her, my own voice filled with incredulity. (The vampire that had oh-so-unwieldy attempted to ruin Alice's designer dress was currently being slammed into the same tree that the black-haired girl had crumpled against. Courtesy of Jacob, who, as much as I hated to admit, was damn good at fighting the things.)
"Alice, there are six of them-"
"Seven if you count my glorious self, actually." laughed Victoria, making me spin round, all thoughts of Alice's pleas flying for my head as I walked forward to attack. How the hell had I forgotten about her?
But Alice was there before me, shooting out faster than I'd seen her move before, and jumping so high it looked like she was in flight to attack. Her movements were light and sylphlike, vanishing each time Victoria tried to hit her.
But before I could watch any more, the disjointed thoughts of the newborns swam into my head.
Perfect, I'll hit him now, if can get Cassie on my right we could take him down, mistress said how we'd be rewarded if we held him still, not to kill though, mistress wanted the pleasure…
I turned sharply to my right, just in time to jump and avoid the launching newborn, a male this time, small and weedy looking - pale ginger hair clashing horribly against his crimson eyes. I kicked out, hitting the one I assumed to be Cassie (she was taller than Victoria, pink foam frothing at the corners of her lips) and all the while trying to pick out Alice and Victoria's thoughts from amongst the fray. Victoria's thoughts were concentrated on the deathly spiral she seemed to be locked in with Alice, and she was singing.
"Small and frail, too delicate and sweet, so long you've fought, what a feat! Oh, tiny pixie Allie-kins, you can't dance forever… You'd be running so much further, if you were somewhat clever…"
***
(A/N: I do hope this isn't too confusing with the choppiness? Ach. If so, I'm sorry. And heck - these in-between babbles probably don't help either, do they? ARFF! *shuts up*)
Lucie's POV:
There are some moments in life, when several things happen at once.
When I was little, only just six, it was the day I'd hit my head against the asphalt at the park that was a prime example of this.
I'd been swinging, enjoying the plummeting feeling in my stomach each time I flew higher in the air. At the top of the swing's arc, I'd seen further than I ever had before, and noticed a man, sitting hunched on the green park bench. He'd been clutching something in his hands, and looked up, his glacial blue eyes meeting my own.
But before I could see any more of him, I'd felt myself dragged back by the momentum of the swing again. There had been a foreign excitement inside of me, the curiosity to see more of the mysterious man and whatever he'd been holding burning. I'd swung higher still, but before I could look at him the wind had whipped my hair across my eyes, and the image of the thick green trees had vanished suddenly, replaced by a fine tangled cobweb of my hair.
And then there had been that moment. Three crucial seconds.
In which I had known something wasn't right.
That was when things started happening all at once. The wind has stopped being pleasant. Instead of refreshing, it was harsh and cold against my skin; the birds' song had ceased, replaced by a panic yell; my fingers had become sweaty, my grip loosening on the chains of the swing; I'd fallen - dizzyingly to the ground, all the while my mother's screaming ringing in my ears.
Now was a time like that.
I saw and felt things happen almost simultaneously. My position in the doorway had become stiff; Esme's light golden eyes sought Carlisle's. I felt two strong hands grip me around the arms, saw Esme shake her head, watched as Carlisle went to his wife's side. Uncertainty plain on his features.
Esme had closed her eyes, as I fought desperately to keep mine open. Her words fell out of her lips.
"She's going to see her…"
Her eyes opened again, looking at me desperately. Emmett (whoa - where the hell did he come from?!) was lifting me into his arms and Carlisle was suspending Esme, both - looked at a loss of what to do next.
I knew what was happening. It had happened after I'd been on that swing too. It had all started when the man on the bench at the end of the park had stared at me. I'd looked into his eyes, not realising I was going to see his entire life stretched out in front of me.
That morning when my mum and I had left the house, I'd never guessed that trip to the park was something
That would scar me for the rest of my childhood. Never imagined that I would lie to my parents for weeks afterwards because of it. Claiming my nightmares were from the accident. Saying that the fall from the swing had been scary.
All lies.
My nightmares after that day had not been from my fall. Not been from the act of hitting my head, not from the pain. My nightmares were of the man, clutching something on the bench. His piercingly sharp blue eyes. His hunched posture. My nightmares were of him.
Because I was six years old when I met a murderer.
I'd seen his past in those few moments, woken up on the asphalt, my lip bleeding, screaming. Too young, I'd been far too young to fully understand what I'd seen back then. Too young to witness the terrible things he'd done. I'd sat up, ignoring my mother's protests, my eyes searching wildly for the man, and the knife he'd been holding.
But he had gone.
Now Esme's eyes were panic stricken, wider than I'd seen before, raw alarm shining in them. She managed to say one more thing before my vision was impaired, stained by a smattering of scarlet.
"…I didn't know it was her."
***
(A/N: yup, we're switching back again. Thoroughly confused yet? Sorry… I can't help it, I was going to leave this bit till next chapter, but ah well. I'll give it out early. I love writing Victoria! Must be my sadist side, it's kicking in again. :p)
Edward's POV:
"Enough."
Victoria's voice rang clear and loud, no longer sickly sweet but sharp, cutting through the snarls like a blade, silencing everyone almost against there will.
Everyone seemed to stop, though Jacob only so because he had just ripped a limb off the one called Cassie, and seemed about ready to kill someone else. Alice was motionless, staring at Victoria in a slightly disconcerting way, and I knew she was skimming the future for what would happen next.
"I'm bored of fighting you Alice." Victoria said, her voice still sharp, "you're getting tiresomely predictable with all your little twirls," She sneered, "and it's awfully tedious." She ran white finger through her hair, "besides, I want to fight… Edward." She turned to me, running her tongue against her ruby lips.
Suddenly everyone was moving again. Alice and Jacob both ran to Victoria, but at the last moment Victoria sidestepped them both, as carelessly as If she'd just dodged a puddle of water in her path. The notion had all of us worried. Jacob's mind was working overdrive. How she manage to dodge us so well?!… Whilst Alice was practically shouting: DANGER to me, Edward, please, just leave it - she wants to stop you…
But I droned her out. I didn't care. I wanted this. Wanted to fight her.
Victoria was now circling me without any haste, almost idly, theatrically unconcerned. Either side of us a small battle seemed to have formed: Alice and Jacob fighting against the remaining four newborns, I didn't take my eyes off Victoria to spare them a glance though; their snarls and hisses were droned out by Victoria's voice - now returning to its childlike coo again.
"So Edward," She drew out my name in a drawl, "who do you like best?" She kept her face impassive as I filtered through her thoughts, determined to stop her plans.
"I don't know what you mean." I replied acidly.
She smiled, illuminated when she walked into a spot where the dim light hit the earth, glowing white in the moon-dazzled darkness.
"Why, which is your favourite human?" She purred softly, still not quickening the pace of our strides, slowly keeping the circular pattern. And though she looked graceful and unconcerned, I could see her poised muscles, and knew how her mind was taut, as my own was - both of us waiting for the other to make the first move.
"Keep them out of this," I said, just as softly as she, though there was an underlying threat in my tone. One that Victoria picked up on, as her smile widened.
"Oooh but why would I do that? It's so much more fun. I want to know Edward, why don't you…confide in me. I could say which I think is the better choice…" She let the sentence hang on the air, showing her teeth in her now not so innocent smile. Her thoughts as taunting as her mocking grin.
Or would you prefer me to kill the spare?
"I said: leave. Them. Out." I gritted, wanting to spring at her but retraining. Not yet, wait until she lets her guard down… Victoria was obvious to my plans, gleefully shaking her hair so it splayed scarlet around her shoulders.
"I seemed to have, what is the saying? Touched a nerve…" She quickened the pace slightly, matching my swifter movements. "Does this mean you can't decide, Edward? Even when you proclaimed your love for the first so valiantly when we last met?" I didn't reply, and she seemed to take that for answer, "Well, this does make everything so much more… interesting." She let out the chilling tinkle of a laugh again, "And there I thought the blonde one was just a pretty little pet-"
The final cords of my resistance snapped, I launched myself at her, cutting across the circle we'd traced with our feet in the earth, wanting more than ever to hurt her. How dare she speak of her like that?! How twisted was her mind-
And then we were dancing, in fast, furious spirals. Hitting and dodging deathly blows. The forest merged into a blur around me, as I focused on Victoria, rage pounding in my ears so strong and violent, that Alice's shrieks and yells became as little and insignificant as whispers in the wind.
"No! Edward stop! You have to go back - Carlisle and Esme need to prepare. They won't listen to me - he could be there within hours! Oh for god's sake look at me!" But I ignored her, focusing purely on Victoria, channelling all my anger so it could be unleashed on her. Her movements had changed since we'd last met. She'd lost that grace, the subtle, feline strikes. Now her blows were less accurate, less planned. Her style was better. It was wilder, more haphazard now. Spontaneous.
And much more effective.
***
Lucie's POV:
It was like something dark and heavy was pressing against my eyelids, and they were too weak to open. I felt oppressed - but it was different from before. Before it had been tiredness that had kept my eyes shut - now it was different. It felt like I was falling slowly, my heart hammering, every pore of my body rebelling against it, trying to stay conscious. The buzz of conversation had ceased completely, now replaced by that terrible silence that seems to press against your eardrums.
Something broke, the seal that had been keeping everything at bay cracked, and simultaneously a thousand colours, sounds and images flew into my mind.
A young girl of about six was running in a field, twirling and twisting through the long grass, so fluidly it looked like dancing. She stopped abruptly, her forehead furrowing in concentration before leaping into the air and clasping something in her tiny hands. A second later, a butterfly rose up out of them, its wings shimmering in the sunlight…
Everything changed; the colours became brighter, so intense they hurt my eyes. And now I could feel too, feelings, thoughts and emotions hit me powerfully, the strength of them staggering. Melancholy was washing through me, as I stared through the eyes of the child when she was a bit older, carefully cradling the broken wing of blackbird. Elation as the same girl leapt into her mother's arms. Worry as she heard the voice of her mother sobbing in the next room. And determination to make her parents happy again.
The scene changed, and I watched the images pass as if through a veil, part of me wanting to resurface, the other part determined to see more. Curiosity was the dominant desire.
I saw the girl again. Her hair loose and flowing around her in the breeze. She looked older now, past the awkward years in which she'd been too short and slight. Now she was slender, more elegant, despite her slightly unruly caramel curls.
She was climbing a tree, utterly content. Adrenaline singing through her veins. Her hands steady as she gripped the rough bark, climbing higher still, determined to see the view from the top. My breathing caught as she lost her footing, the bark breaking off, her arms flailing wildly - hitting branches on the way down - hearing a sickening crunch as her leg hit the earth.
Images of a girl crying, waking up in a hospital, feeling stunned as she gazed into the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes upon. Losing herself in his golden eyes, his honey coloured hair. He averted her gaze, casting his eyes down to his records and notes.
"Tell me, fine lady, what is your name?"
"Esme," She whispered breathlessly.
"Esme Anne Platt? Just turned 16 this fall?" She nodded. He looked up from his clipboard, and stared at her with surprising intensity.
"Well then Esme," He smiled warmly, "You took quite a fall there…"
"I wasn't aware the tree was quite that old, Doctor," Her words were still slightly out of breath. Who was he? Her mind was racing, fantasies she'd never experienced before blooming. He frowned fractionally before ticking something swiftly.
"Well," Said the man, smiling gently after looking up from his clipboard again and reaching over to brush some hair out of her heart-shaped face. His hands were surprisingly cool. "Just try to be more careful in future. I don't want you getting hurt." She beamed at him, noting the lack of plural in his words.
There were more images then, and the girl could no longer be described as a girl. A women now, in a beige summer dress. Staring forlornly at the front of the hospital, wishing the man who'd once mended her leg to return there.
The scenes were moving faster now. Like someone had pressed fast-forward on a remote, images flitted past - some so quickly they merely became a blur of vibrant light, and the humming of voices. They began to get slower, but still passed across my vision too fast for me to make sense of them.
Older still, and wanting to have a better education, desire to be a teacher - hating the looks of disappointment in her parents eyes. Deciding instead to stay with them, to marry someone. Feeling trepidation as she passed a shadowy figure on a dark alley…
This memory seemed more compelling than the rest, the images sharper.
The girl looked little under 22, her caramel hair escaping in tendrils out of her unkempt bun. Her clothes looked neat and prim, but unpractical for the street, her dress catching every so often under her feet. The fabric too thin to keep her warm.
My heartbeat increased in tempo as her anxiety spiked. Her footsteps were faster as she hurried through the cobbled street, pointedly ignoring the man walking opposite her, unnervingly managing to keep the same pace. The corner drew closer, and a sense of relief filled me.
If she could just reach that corner…
But then the man changed course. Striding directly towards her, He looked up, and now his face was no longer shrouded in shadow, illuminated by a light on the sidewalk. His face looked like it had once been tanned, but it was paler, like he hadn't been receiving enough sunlight. He had a long, gaunt face, sallow cheeks and receding hair. His eyes were a flat grey, unnervingly emotionless, tinged red around the edges, bloodshot. The girl had stopped walking, paralyzed momentarily. She caught herself, realising her mistake and walking faster still, her heels clapping loudly in the silence. But it was too late.
The man was next to her now, his strides faster than hers, he grabbed her hand and a horrible sense of dread seemed to emanate from the girl, she had no choice but to stop, fervently trying to quell the shakes.
"You're a very pretty girl," He said softly, his voice raspy. The girl stiffened, unable to pull free from his grasp. He lifted up her hand gently, pressing his lips to the back of her palm. "And so cold, why alone on a night like this?"
A myriad of colours shimmered then, and I was falling faster - The girl adorned in a flowing white dress, standing curtly next to same man she'd met in the street, his hand in hers, a smile she hadn't seen before now twisting his lips. Dread slowly filling her, fighting back the urge to pull her hand out of his
"Do you, Charles Evenson take thee, Esme Anne Plat to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." But the girl had averted her eyes from her fiancé, noting a woman, in the crowd she didn't recognise. Standing apart from the rest. Much younger than the middle-aged housewives, who stared on adoringly. This woman - girl even - looked troubled; her eyes kept darting around the crowd, and her stance was unnatural; poised as if to run. Her clothes were dirtier than anyone else's, and oddly unsuitable for a wedding. A dark crimson dress, cut low and ripped at the side. She turned to stare at Esme then, ash hair lifting in the breeze, her emerald eyes startlingly bright…
I felt my heart thump loudly. Distantly I knew I was shaking violently. I could hear anxious voices as if from far away.
"Emmett, pass me that cloth, it's okay Esme. You know the circumstances; we all knew this would happen soon enough. She's just experiencing your past; it will probably happen to all of us at some point in the near future. Shhh, shh, you're not in any danger. Jasper informed me that he had slight flashes of his past, nothing more."
"No - no, it's not that! I didn't know. I didn't make the connection… ever since I saw her that first time you brought her here, cut up and bruised, part of me stirred. I recognised her. The similarity between them - it's so obvious now. But I had no idea…"
"What? What similarity? Esme - what's wrong?"
"She'll see her Carlisle. She'll think I tried to stop her from realising...I-I didn't realise till earlier. When she said the name in her sleep… when I worked it all out… that first time at my wedding Carlisle, that was when I saw her first. It explains why the Volturi want her. It explains everything. If only I'd noticed sooner… I've seen her so many times…"
"Seen who Esme?"
But I was sucked back under again, the images relentlessly pouring into my head, my heart racing, head burning.
I saw the girl with the man again, older now, fear pulsing every time she turned to him, knowing what he liked to do to her when they were alone. Behind closed doors, where watchful eyes could not see. Losing her voice as he drew closer still, as he raised his arm to strike…
Keeping silent about it all. Wanting to succeed in being a wife, asking her mother for help, getting told only to stay faithful to him - to remain strong inside. Feeling immense joy and relief by the arrival of the war, selfishly glad that Charles had been drafted to join. Feeling freedom once more. More time flew passed, and now the girl was looking down at a newspaper, 12th March 1920, not reading the headline as Charles strode through the door. Not looking into his cold eyes as he hit her again and again…
The girl was looking in the mirror, tracing the bruises along her creamy skin, now tinged with blue and purple. Sudden resolve building in her, half falling out of the window in her haste before he'd return. Finally escaping from Charles.
Finding herself alone now, lost on an unknown road. Glimpsing a girl younger than she was shrouded in black in the distance, running down an alley, followed sharply by cloaked figures. Moving faster than she'd thought possible. One of them was shouting something:
"Come back Arielle, enough games…"
A feeling of reminiscence twisting at her insides. Moving onward, deciding to ignore the event…
But I couldn't. I wanted to scream. Wanted to break free from the terrible memories, no longer compelled to see more. It was the same girl. The same figure, the same name. It couldn't be coincidental. It just couldn't. And those men too… the ones in the cloaks…
I could hear the voices again. What sounded like Rosalie's normally melodic voice was shrill with fear.
"She's shaking again! Carlisle…"
"Rosalie, please, try to hold her still - Esme, Esme? It's okay - Rosalie, please keep her calm. She could injure herself. Emmett, keep her arm steady-" But their voices, as much as I craved to hear them, were fading again, the images, thoughts, emotions and sounds that were not from my past, were winning once more...
Esme was standing alone in a room. A single tear fell to the floor as she lifted up the bottom of her shirt, her trembling fingers caressing the swollen bump. She bore Charles' child…
Unable to become a teacher, rejected because of her pregnancy. Pain shooting through her as she gave birth, feeling utter happiness soar in her chest as she saw her son. Wondering if her life was starting to get back on track again. Giving the baby all she could to keep him strong. Tears of joy flowing down her cheeks as she cradled the tiny thing in her arms. Kissing the top of his head, where the finest hairs of caramel-brown were growing.
But the mood was changing now. The images and feelings had suddenly become dark. I could hear screams of horror. See her shaking and sobbing, wishing with all her heart he would survive. The lung infection spreading through the boy - Esme refusing to leave her son. Still desperately cradling the boy in her arms, despite the fact that no life resided inside him.
Desolation, despair, self loathing. I couldn't take it anymore. Esme was standing on top of a cliff, throwing herself off it, having nothing else to live for… I yelled out, thrashing, not wanting to experience the memories, ignoring the scenes of her plunging into the depths of the dark water. Gasping now, trying to breathe. Desperate for air, needing to resurface…
With a tremendous effort, I broke free. My eyes snapping open, searching the room for Esme, meeting her gaze, and lurching forward. My attempt was stopped by Emmett's grip. Rosalie looked terrified. Carlisle was kneeling beside Esme, torn between comforting her, and tending to myself.
I managed to choke out a sentence, though my mouth was bone dry.
"You knew my mum… You - you saw her, I saw her, all those years ago… it doesn't - nothing - none of it makes any sense! How is that possible? She can't - sh-she's gone now… she couldn't possibly be alive then…not in 1920, she was only 38 when she..."
Before I could hear her response, before I could even see her expression, Carlisle had moved swiftly to my side, and had injected something into my arm.
"No!" I yelled, whipping around to glare at him, furious. His light golden eyes looked apologetic; he was talking to me…so why can't I hear him? I reached out, irrationally wanting to hit him. But my arms were still trapped in Emmett's iron strong with Emmett's support though, the entire room was just… rotating - in horror I turned my head back to Carlisle, who looked about ready to seize me. His lips were moving, I could only lip read two of his words though 'I'm sorry', I looked down with horror, as he pulled out the syringe from my arm, my eyes opening wide, my entire body numb, head spinning…
"You didn't…"I whispered furiously, but I couldn't say anything else.
Because for what felt like the hundredth time, my world was reduced darkness.
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
***
…
Worth the wait?
For some reason, I'm really anxious about the reaction to this one. I'm not sure why… please do say what you thought of it in a review. Any speculations are really welcomed! To those who give the best reviews, I'll mention in the A/N next chapter. And I REALLY urge anon reviewers to get an account! I was nearly going crazy each time I got a desperate review saying: "What's taking so long? UPDATE!" And I couldn't even say sorry and send the anon reviews forgive-me-Sneaky-Peakys… So yeah… do review. Make me smile :D
And I'm afraid I'm going to split this once again. Else the chapter would be so long you'd all deem it tedious and give up on me. (You would. You'd all flop and think: "Ugh, why is it so darn long…") That means the long awaited romance… yup. It's postponed till next chapter, but there is some! (I've got some written already) And it will be in next chapter, I promise.
Now c'mon, that was a plot twist huh? None of you thought she'd see Esme's past. Less so that Lucie's mother would appear in it. HA! ;) *Satisfied grin* I've got to give some credit to Blue Tulips for her many guesses though, and Jade Lyssy Swan, for noticing that something was iffy with Esme.
'I don't know, unleash your anger on cutting up carrots or something' - If you're wondering where that came from, I did so the other day. The carrots never stood a chance. I wasn't making carrot cake sadly (I had waaaaay too much sugar this weekend. Darn Halloween.) But still, I went a little manic when cutting them up *crazy…* and the idea of Emmett talking about them popped into my head. I'll admit, their entire conversation was a bit random :S
To those who wished me Happy Birthday, thank you! I had a lovely day, and a slight headache, but otherwise it was great. Sadly though, I don't feel remotely wiser. 15 is much the same as 14. There I was… awaiting some grand epiphany and… nothing. What a disappointment, huh?
Right, I feel guilty for splitting this in two (but it was really long - and this means I can update relatively quick) so here, I'll give another sneak peek of what's still to happen:
Coming Soon Next Chapter:
Edward's POV:
She was shaking, tangling herself up in the sheets, yelling:
"Get off me! Get off!"
But no one was touching her, I wanted to help: to lift her up into my arms, stop her tremors, do anything, but I was paralyzed still.
Her thoughts flew into my head in torrent of colours, mixing and raging out from her dream and into my head. I knew why she was afraid to sleep. But I had never before guessed that her dreams could get worse. Never had I even considered the fact that they could get more intense than what I'd witnessed before. I'd assumed they'd dissipate over time, that she would become immune to them.
I had been severely mistaken.
***
Heh - lots of cliffhangers! I do like being evil; really, it's so much more amusing. ;)
Have a great week! ;) and please REVIEW :)
Lily - who is doing far too many David Attenborough impressions, it can't be healthy… (There were NELEPHANTS on the program 'Life' last week *anyone watch that?* NELEPHANTS! She was quite overjoyed.)