Disclaimer: Heyyyyy, I don't own Twilight! Oh, god, it just hurts so much…. Read and review!!!! Love love love to all the people who stomach my writing!!! Xoxo Nico'sGirl!!!
Author's Note: Hey everyone! This chapter is going to contain some pretty gory material, so if you don't have a strong stomach or just don't want to read something like that, there will be a condensed summary of the chapter at the bottom of this page. Thanks for reading! I appreciate every review, and I love to read them and consider all your advice! Xoxo Nico'sGirl
I must talk to someone. My emotions push at my limits. I have to let it out. My sensible shoes click as I bounce down the stone steps and onto the pavement. I keep my head down, eyes trained upon the sidewalk. The world outside is gray. Men in hats hustle past me on their way to work, women brush by me toting umbrellas, which are folded under their arms, as the rain has stopped. A governess drags two children down the street, gripping their hands tightly, a boy and girl. The little boy trips on a loose stone, which pulls up his knickerbockers, and he skins his shin. My throat erupts in flames as his blood permeates the air. The child starts to cry. The governess crouches down beside him, the filthy bottom of her apron and black dress trailing in the mud. The child wails more, and I hesitate where I stand. I am not in control of my body as I lean down beside him, croon to him "Oh, sweetie, are you all right?". The little boy looks up at me and shakes his head rapidly. The governess glares at me.
I can hear the little boy's heartbeat. Thud thud thud thudthudthudthudthud. The heart speeds up as I get closer and closer to the tender skin of the child's throat. I can almost feel the smooth, delicious skin upon my lip. I exhale and open my mouth a little. The child's eyes stare into my own, mine a vicious red and his a wide, terrified blue. A few passerby stop and stare at me, shocked. The governess shouts, "What on Earth!" and shoves me back. She is not strong enough to move me, but her touch startles me and I leap to my feet, press myself against the brick façade of the building nearest us.
I hold my breath, trying to forget the taste of fire in my throat, trying to forget my thirst. When I reach the corner, I glance up at the street sign. Wallace. I know this place… This is where my dearest friend Mabelina Weston lives. I can confide in her. She would understand any problem! I turn, and there it is! I hurry up the steps, trailing my hand on the black railing that has been curved into designs I have long since memorized. This place is more familiar than my own home. I open the door and Bertram, the butler comes to assist me.
"Madam," He looks me up and down, confused. "May I be of service to you?"
"Bertram," I say, smiling at him and brushing a lock of damp hair from my forehead, "It's me, Isabella."
"Isabella Swan?" he says. "Oh… Well, Miss Weston is upstairs, in her bedroom."
"Thank you!" I call behind me as I bound up the pine steps in a very unladylike fashion. When I enter Mabelina's room, she is lounging on her four-poster bed, the gossamer curtains billowing around her. She looks just like she did when we met at six years old, her feet dangling in the air as she lies on her stomach. "Mabelina!" I exclaim.
She sits up like a bolt. "Oh, Isabella! I haven't seen you in days! Where have you been since the dance? And you didn't take your carriage home." Mabelina says this as she leaps out of bed and slings her arms about my neck.
"Yes, well I… was preoccupied." I swallow, trying to ignore my primal urges.
Mabelina walks over to her chest of drawers, opens the top one. She pulls out a slim silver case, and inside are a multitude of cigarettes. I raise my eyebrows at this. It isn't proper for a lady to smoke. But she takes one out anyway, striking a match on the edge of one of her party shoes. The whitish smoke curls from the smoldering tip. She inhales it, and I risk a breath. I regret it. The cigarette smells like… men. Mabelina catches me staring at the cigarette perched in her fingers. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, do you fancy one?" she asks innocently.
"Um, no that's quite alright…" I hesitate for a moment, before I decide to let it all pour out. "Mabelina, something happened…" I tell her everything about that night, ending with my exit from the house this morning. "Please…don't be afraid of me. I'm not a… monster."
"Isabella…" she trails off. She sighs, then turns to ash her cigarette into a flowerbox just under her window. Mabelina turns back to me and walks over slowly. "I knew there was something different about you…just look at your eyes. Isabella, I'm so sorry!" she cries as she gives me another hug. Surprised by her reaction, I take in a sharp intake of breath. And the flames erupt once more and I cannot control myself. I lunge for my best friend's throat.
Her shriek of pain cuts off in a gurgle as I slice her vocal cords with my teeth. My jaws work like knitting needles, deeper and deeper into her skin. Blood spurts out and I let it fill my mouth, fuller, fuller, until it overflows from my lips in thin rivulets of ruby. I swallow, but my lips remain stained red. The thick liquid brings the sweetest of soothings to this gargantuan pain. I drink more and more, biting deeper into Mabelina's throat until I reach the trachea. I rip it out and chew experimentally. It is rubbery and of not edible. I spit it back out.
Mabelina is still feebly trying to fight me off. We are on the floor, her back propped up against the wall. Our knees are lined up, my hands on her shoulders, holding her back. Curiosly, I press down harder with my knees and hear her kneecaps crack. Mabelina's eyebrows furrow and her mouth opens in a silent scream, but she is incapable of making noise, only a thin hissing noise as her lungs expel air. Her lower arms beat faintly at my sides. A little angrily, I let go of her shoulders and pin her lower arms o the floor. I press harder and harder, sinking my fingers into her arms. Then, I break through. My fingers brush the floor through the holes I have created in her arms. Blood coats my fingers, and with the last of her energy, Mabelina's face contorts. I pick up her arm and raise it to my mouth, clearing out the hole with my tongue, drinking and drinking.
Mabelina lets out one last breath. I continue suck the blood from my best friend until she has run dry. I stand up and survey my work. Her throat is covered in blood, and it has run down onto her chest, where it has already started to coagulate into sticky strips on lumps of blackish red. There are enormous holes in her arms, and a shard of one of her kneecaps pokes out from her skin. Her discarded trachea is lying by her feet. I glimpse myself, as well, in Mabelina's vanity mirror. My face and neck have been splashed with blood from my feeding. Like I am living in a dream, I pour water from a pitcher by her basin onto a cream-colored washcloth and begin to methodically wipe off my face.
I am not in my head. I cannot face what I have just done, that craze of violence that has just overcome me. In my mind, I have not killed Mabelina, no, that was someone else, something else inhabiting my body. When I have finished, her basin is filled with bloody water, and the washcloth is stained ruby. With one last look at Mabelina, fond almost, I take her key and lock her door, then I exit, hearing the lock click behind me. I travel back down the stairs as quietly as possible, then leave.
Once I am outside on the street, I realize I have nowhere to go. I take a deep breath… Nowhere to go except for… I sigh, and then turn back to where I came from. I trot down the street, happy in spite of the horrible thing I have done. That was the most intense pleasure I have ever experienced, and now a warm glowing feeling encompasses me. However, I cannot enjoy it. My best friend in the world is gone, because I have killed her. My head hangs low once more as I hurry past all the people in the street. They throw me the oddest of looks. The know, they must know by my face what I have done. I cannot bear this. I see Mr. Edward's home up ahead.
I tap my way up the steps again and swing open the door, only to find Mr. Edward still sitting where I have left him. He is staring without blinking at the fireplace. He looks up at me.
"Isabella, where on Earth have you been, I was…" He stops, then takes a deep whiff of the air. "There is blood upon you. Were you… feeding? Without first having been instructed in what to do by me?" Edward looks angry as he saunters up to me, and we are once again almost nose to nose.
"I… I had to talk to someone, let my emotions out." I wish I could cry right now more than anything. But I can do nothing, only dry heaves of emotion flow from me. Edward wraps his arms around me, and I surprise myself by folding into his embrace. He rubs my back with circles.
"You could talk to me…" He says in my ear. I shake my head.
"I just needed to see Mabelina. But… something came over me and I…" My breath hitches as another dry sob shakes my frame, "I killed her." I whispered.
Edward doesn't even flinch. "Its perfectly normal. This is how you will survive. You will become accustomed to it." I cringe a bit as he kisses my hair.
"Edward," I snap as I push myself away from him, "I know I will kill, but Mabelina was my best friend." I turn from him and run up the staircase to the room where he first brought me.
SUMMARY: Isabella flees onto the street, where she is tempted to kill a little boy, but doesn't. She runs to vent about everything to Mabelina Weston, her best friend. However, the thirst is too strong and she feeds on Mabelina and brutally kills her. She then returns to Edward, who comforts her, but she feels is unsympathetic to her plight. She runs back upstairs.