No one moved for a split second, then Carlisle rushed over and pulled him to his feet. Edward seemed to have lost all control of his body, and his head flopped to the side. I saw his eyes, and it made my stomach clench sickeningly. Not because they were tormented, but because they were empty. They were bottomless, a black hole that had and lost. They screamed I am nothing, I was nothing, I will always be nothing.
I had seen Edward's pain before, twice, but never like this, never in this magnitude, not even close. I felt suicidal just watching him. A world that could do that to someone was not one I wanted to be in.
I looked away, glancing about the room, at Alice and Rosalie's horrorstruck expressions, Jasper's still contorted, and Esme's, whose attention had finally been diverted from the cause of this, Renesmee.
I wanted to be sick. I wanted to be gone. I wanted the last nightmarish week to never have happened, for Bella to have had a happy eternity with her new husband. Anything would have been better than this. Every single person in the pack could have imprinted, every single freaking person in the world could have fallen in love, except for me, and I would have been okay. Just not this.
Just let me get away from here.
"Carlisle," Edward said, his head steadying again, his eyes focusing. "Carlisle." His voice was still deadly, eerily soft, raw, every syllable screaming for help.
"What is it, Edward?" Carlisle asked him, though he must have known. I did.
"Kill me," he said, closing his eyes. "Please, kill me. This…I cannot survive this. This is worse than last time. Last time…I could not survive it then, because it was my fault. I had left her, I had forced her to jump off a cliff. This time…this was what she wanted, Carlisle. I gave her what she wanted, and still, she died. And I couldn't save her. I tried, Carlisle! Please, believe me, I tried."
How could anyone doubt he had tried?
"But I couldn't. I killed her again, Carlisle. I - I killed her! My hands, they have her blood on them. I was doing CPR…and - and, I-" Here he choked off. He took a deep breath, and continued his story. "Carlisle, I crushed her heart with my hands."
Silence for a moment. Then Edward spoke again, murmuring, eyes still closed. "'Tis better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all," he quoted. "But is it better, if you're the one who killed her?" he questioned. Nobody answered. "I don't think so," he continued. "I would rather have never have been born, never have met her, then live for even a second knowing that it was me who caused that celestial angel to leave this earth."
Again, there was silence for a moment. Edward's breathing was labored and heavy, uneven and irregular. But he wasn't done telling us his horrible story, his guilt.
"Carlisle," he said again. And suddenly his eyes were blazing, no longer empty. "Carlisle! She was alive! Her heart - it was beating on its own! And I thought - I thought-"he choked off again, then continued with steadfast determination, as if telling us would ease his mind-crushing guilt. "I thought that - one more time - couldn't hurt. And I pressed too hard. And I felt - her heart - crush underneath my hands, Carlisle. I felt her ribs splinter into dust, I heard her heart stutter and go silent. And all the while, knowing it was me. Me, directly. There's no getting around it. Everything, everything that led up to this, was because of me. I married her - she didn't even want to! I forced her to marry me, a monster! Then I gave her what she wanted, I made love with her, bruising her so horribly I could barely stand to look at her! Yes, that's right, Carlisle, I could barely stand to look at my wife, because I had hurt her. And then I got her pregnant, and I couldn't even get rid of it. I had to watch her suffer, watch that thing kick its way through her. And then she dies. Because of me."
He stared around at us all, daring us to object to his blame. All of us did, of course, but I knew I didn't have the courage to contradict him.
Even though I hated him, any fool could see it wasn't his fault. He had done everything he could.
But Edward wasn't quite done. He continued, looking at each of us in turn, before his eyes finally stopped, those horrible, crazed, agonized, empty eyes.
"So. Now you've heard my story. And can any of you deny me what I want? Relief from this pain? Though I don't deserve it. I should live forever, roaming the earth, feeling this guilt and grief pressing down on me, smothering every word, every motion, every thought. It would be no less than I deserved. But again, I'm selfish.
"That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? I'm selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish! But still - please, please, kill me! Just let me escape!"
The fire went out of his eyes, and he was empty again, his story told and his final plea made.
Nobody seemed to know quite what to do.