Chapter thirty eight

Esme

How long could this go on? Surely any human being would have passed out after enduring only a few minutes of such pain, let alone two days. Was this normal for a transformation? Did Sapphire and Edward also have to be tied down during theirs'? Isabella was currently thrashing with all her might, fighting against the binds around her wrists and feet, although she was unconscious of her actions. The venom had truly overtaken her, stripping the young woman of all humanity, to leave a desperate soul fighting to survive the fire that consumed her. Sedatives had been abandoned long ago, as it soon became apparent that there was no easy way out of this for her. I had decided the only way to get through this without losing my sanity was to try and ignore who it was undergoing the transformation and simply focus on getting her through it.

Jasper and Carlisle closely monitored her progress and, so far, neither had given any sign of anything going wrong, but I kept a lid on my optimism, not wanting to jinx the outcome. Alice spent the majority of her time obsessively encouraging visions to see if the change would be successful, but there were far too many variables in a situation such as this, which frustrated her to no end. It was the first time I witnessed Alice trash a room in a fit of rage.

Although I had managed to keep a fairly level head throughout the ordeal, I could feel the edges of my composure fraying. It was hard to see someone I cared about suffering so badly and there were moments when I, too, wanted to use violence as a release for my emotions. There was one particularly low point-which I would never reveal to any other living soul for as long as I existed-where I began to actually curse the day Alice had met Isabella. If only she hadn't walked into that dress shop, there was a chance that none of this would have ever happened. Isabella would still be a happy, healthy human being and the rest of us would not be experiencing the splintering of our hearts. True, Carlisle Cullen would not have found his mate, but he also would not be slowly falling painfully apart in a way that made my spirit sore.

The vampire in question was less than a shadow of his former self. He hadn't rested, fed or even changed his clothes since the moment we first brought Isabella back to the mansion and the stress was written all over his face. He was as close to haggard as a vampire would ever look and my eyes had begun avoiding him hours ago, because I knew that the second I looked into those desperate orbs, I would lose it and succumb to my own grief. The worst thing of all was that there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to help her anymore. This battle was Isabella's to fight alone, leaving us with no other task than making sure she didn't damage herself further amidst the struggling of her body. At one point, all four of us had to assist the bindings and keep her pinned down to the bed. That was the moment my eyes accidentally met Carlisle's.

Fifty three hours after the moment Isabella Swan had been savagely bitten by Edward Masen, I finally caved. My hands released the woman's left ankle, as though receiving an electric shock and I bolted from the room. I couldn't take the noise anymore; I needed quiet, so I fled down the stairs, through the lounge and out the front door, heading for the trees. I didn't get any further than a few feet from the house before my legs buckled and I fell to the ground on hands and knees. For the first time in decades, I felt weak. My limbs started to quaver and my body convulsed with the dry sobs falling from my lips. My forehead connected with the ground and I did not care about the rain pouring down or the mud smearing my face and clothes.

Images of faces flew past my mind's eye, each one contorted in misery. Alice, Jasper, Isabella, Charlie...they all passed by and sent fresh waves of sadness through me, but the worst by far was the look on Carlisle's face as he had been forced to restrain the woman he loved. It was...there were just...no. No words could ever describe it and I didn't even bother trying. I just remained where I was, my arms stretching out ahead of me, my hands clasping the wet earth and crushing it in my palms, with the sole purpose of trying to vent my feelings. I had done so well up until that point. I had been the one to keep everything going, to keep an eye on the affairs outside the mansion, so that the people inside could look after Isabella. I'd even managed to keep the police at bay for the past couple of days, buying us the time needed to allow the completion of the transformation, but it seemed that all my energy was now spent. It was my turn to mourn.

I let the sadness leave my body, let the sobs play out until they eventually receded and gave myself the time needed to come to terms with everything. When composure finally returned and I was silent once again, I slowly levered myself up into a sitting position and a stab of shame ran through me. What the Hell had I just done? What was I thinking, running out on the other three like that? Alice and Carlisle had lost a best friend and mate, yet here I was crying in the rain, when I'd known Isabella less than half the time they had. I placed a palm on my temple, about to rub it across my eyes, when I felt the wet mud sticking to my skin. Foolishness added to my sense of shame and I rose to my feet, turning to re-enter the mansion, hoping they wouldn't hold my lapse in mental stability against me.

The moment I opened the front door, I was greeted by something that had been missing for the past couple of days: silence. I had planned to clean myself off, before going back into Isabella's room, but curiosity won the battle against vanity. I could have flown up the stairs, but, for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to rush. I was too enthralled by the eerie quiet that had suddenly settled over the house. If a pin had fallen to the floor, it would have probably shaken the walls with its deafening boom.

I reached the bedroom, wiping the remnants of rainwater off my face, before pushing open the door. The three vampires stood around the bed, each one watching the soundless and still human lying in the centre. I didn't join them right away, as the noise of my wet shoes would have felt somehow disrespectful interrupting the hushed atmosphere. It was such a strong and unexpected contrast to the manic din of before and two questions came to mind:

Was this a good thing?

How long would the silence last?

Jasper was the first to acknowledge me, looking over his shoulder. He threw a last glance to each of the remaining trio in the room, before walking over to join me. He didn't stop at the doorway, where I was stood. Instead, he carried on until we were in Carlisle's study once again.

"What's happening?" I asked.

"I think Bella's reached the final stage of her transformation," he replied, his voice a very low whisper. It seemed he was as reluctant as I to shatter the quiet.

"How much longer will it take?"

"A day, maybe longer. It differs from person to person."

"How will we know that it's still working?"

"There's no real way of knowing. Unfortunately, the symptoms that appear during this stage are very similar to the signs of death. Breathing slows, body temperature lowers, skin loses colour and heart rate steadily drops, until it becomes almost impossible to distinguish the difference between an almost-changed human and a corpse."

"And I suppose there's still nothing we can do to help her."

"Nope."

I let out a sigh of frustration, throwing my hands into the air, before letting them fall to my sides in defeat. "And there is absolutely no way of knowing if she's survived?"

"Not until she wakes...if she wakes."

000

"Carlisle, you need to feed."

Isabella's silence had lasted four hours and he was the only one who had yet to leave the room. I knew hunting was the very last thing on his mind right then, but Isabella's predicament hadn't blinded me to the darkness of his eyes. They were getting dangerously close to black and, coupled with the stress, he could quite easily lose it. That scared me more than anything, I think, as I had never actually had to fear the actions of Carlisle Cullen before.

He didn't respond, but I knew he had heard me. I took a step closer.

"When was your last hunt?" I asked. Still no reply, so I placed a hand on his forearm, hoping physical contact might break him out of his stupor.

"I can't leave her," he breathed, his thumb running across the knuckles of her hand.

"This will be as good a time as any," I said, squeezing his arm in reassurance. "She is going to be like this for quite a while longer yet, so there will be no harm in you taking a moment to look after yourself."

"She needs me," he murmured, his eyes flitting to mine, before returning to Isabella.

"Yes she does," I agreed. "But, at your very best. You are no good to her as a half starved emotional mess. Hunt, shower and put on some clean clothes. I will stay here with her until you come back."

He said nothing, but I could tell he was gearing himself up to leave, by the way the longing increased in his gaze. Leaning over her, he stroked her temple, before placing a long, gentle kiss on her forehead. Then he straightened, kissing her hand, before quickly stepping away. He was at the door and opening it in less than a second and I knew the cause for his speed, as lingering would have only tempted him to change his mind.

Before closing the door, he spared Isabella one final glance over his shoulder, whilst addressing me.

"I won't be long," he said.

"I know."

With a brief nod, he finally left the bedroom. I let out a long, deep sigh and briefly considered asking Alice or Jasper to accompany him, but was confident it would be unnecessary. Carlisle wasn't quite that far gone yet. Taking the seat that had once been occupied by the doctor, I did my own assessment of Isabella and the first thing to strike me was her awful appearance. Understandably, looks were the last thing on everyone's mind, but there was a part of me that felt she should be clean at the very least. Besides, cleaning and changing her clothing provided a decent distraction, otherwise my entire time would have been spent dwelling, which was a rather unappealing prospect.

The small bundle of clothing was still on the desk, but, for obvious reasons, she hadn't been changed into them. Firstly, Isabella needed a wash, so I set about finding a large bowl of warm water, some wash cloths and towels. Her bindings had been removed, which allowed me to immediately undress her and I decided to remove her top first. Just as I was about to slide the strap down one arm, I noticed her neck wound and was surprised by how small it appeared in comparison to a few days ago. It had been horrendous when she first arrived, but now it was no bigger than a few centimetres. I wanted to take that as a good sign, but still kept a lid on my hopes, just in case.

There were spots of dried blood around the back of her neck, but, other than that, the worst to clean up was perspiration. I tried my best to ensure the bedding didn't get too wet, not that it mattered, though. As I cleaned, I took the opportunity to study the rest of her body. Just as Jasper had described, Isabella's skin was cool to the touch and I could barely feel a pulse when I pressed a finger to her wrist. There were the faded shadows of freckles on her shoulders and her cheeks barely held any colour to them now. That was something I missed from my own days as a human. No amount of skill with makeup could replicate the subtle flush to the cheeks.

When she was finally up to a decent level of cleanliness, I set about putting the clean clothes on her. They consisted of a black skirt, navy blue vest and a long sleeved, black gossamer top. I briefly left the room to retrieve my hairbrush, before returning and sitting on the edge of the bed beside her head. Her hair was quite a mess, full of tangles and dirt, but there was no chance of washing it at the moment, so I settled for making it look as presentable as possible. I was careful and it took some time to get all the knots and tangles out, but, when I finally finished, I stood and took a long, hard look at my handiwork. It was as close to the old Isabella as she was ever going to get and, lying on her back, with one arm at her side, the other resting over her stomach, she looked as though she was sleeping.

A creak of the door alerted me to Carlisle's presence and I threw a quick smile over my shoulder at him. He, too, looked immeasurably better, in clean shirt and jeans, with his wet hair swept back. He stood beside me at the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in every inch of Isabella. Not a word left his lips for several long minutes, until his face slowly turned to me and he let the first smile in days tug at the corner of his lips. It was a very, very small smile, more wan than cheerful, but it was enough to tell me that he was pleased with my efforts.

"Thank you," he said and I replied by taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

He moved around the bed, to take his usual seat beside it and took a strand of brown hair between his fingers.

"You..." he began, although his voice faltered a little. Then he took a deep breath and continued. "You are almost as good at makeovers as Alice."

I couldn't help the rush of quiet laughter that escaped my lungs. He had actually managed to make a joke. I could have cried at that moment and wanted to run over and wrap my arms around him, although I held back, knowing we were far from the ideal moment for such a gesture. Instead, I chose to give him some more time alone with Isabella. There was little else I could really do and, if he needed me, he would know where to find me.

At the door I stopped. "Do you want me to get you anything?" I asked. "Some books, perhaps?"

Carlisle considered my offer a moment, before releasing the brown tendril and getting to his feet. "Thank you...but...I think I might take a moment to grab a couple, myself."

I was surprised by his response, as it had almost killed him to leave her alone the first time, but, perhaps that one time had shown that a constant vigil wasn't quite necessary. He could spare a minute or two here and there if need be. The surprise must have registered in my expression, because he seemed to feel the need to justify it.

"It is just...my books...the library is not currently it's most orderly."

"That's alright," I said. "I understand."

I left the bedroom, with Carlisle following a little behind and could only assume that the hunt and shower had done him some serious good, if he was willing to leave her a second time, albeit only briefly. With this improvement in his mood, I was praying harder than ever that Isabella made it through her transformation.

000

It burned. God, how it burned! I had no concept of time and the heat just kept on coming, without offering any means of extinguishment. I wanted to get away, to escape the unbearable flames that continually assaulted the few senses I possessed. I wanted to scream, to claw, to do anything just to make it STOP!

And it did. After an eternity, the fire gradually receded, to become an uncomfortable smoulder. It still hurt, but it was bliss compared to its predecessor. I was terrified, though; terrified of its return, because I wasn't sure I would make it through the pain a second time. In fact, I knew I wouldn't. How wrong I was. I lost count of how many times the fire returned, losing track after the fifth or sixth. It wouldn't stop; just going round and round in a torturous circle, until I was begging for unconsciousness. My pleas went unanswered.

The last time was the very worst, something I thought impossible. How could you get worse than excruciating agony? It lasted far longer than any other occurrence, too and I couldn't even think, let alone describe the anguish. Eventually, the very last wave of fire died down and I was left a trembling bundle of...whatever-I-was.

Peace returned and I could have bawled my eyes out in relief. Then a bizarre numbness spread over me and everything began to feel cold. It was like fingers of ice running up and down, freezing every part of me they touched. I had spent so long in this fluid state, that I wasn't sure what was happening to me, until I began to slowly feel more...solid. I was ceasing to be a floating pool of mass and becoming something harder, stronger. I didn't know if it was a good thing, or whether I even liked the sensation, but at least it wasn't fire. The cold didn't hurt, so I would happily embrace it to banish the heat forever.

The strength grew and the numbness left, to be replaced with an abundance of feeling. I could feel the solidifying of my consciousness spreading to form a solid body around it. Arms grew where there previously had been none, legs stretched out to fill the emptiness and fingers curled and uncurled, before a tremendous force pulled at my chest and all five senses came alive to the calling of blinding light...

000

Daylight spilled upon the world. The rain tapered to a gentle drizzle, before disappearing completely. The clouds parted, to occasionally allow a colour other than grey to rule the skies. And somewhere, in a house obscured by green, laid a woman on a bed. Beside her was a man, his eyes gracing the pages of an open book, as his smooth voice released the words contained within. The morning light slowly made its way towards the building, crawling along the earth, until it collided with a wall and began to climb. When it reached a window, some of the particles parted ways, to filter into the rooms inside, whilst the rest continued their ascent. This happened on the second floor of the house, too, as curiosity continued to get the better of so much of the daylight. The particles that stayed true to their course, however, were soon to be rewarded.

Near the top, was a smaller window, which provided access to the aforementioned couple. The man was still reading, as the woman laid still and the daylight was intrigued. Perhaps it was drawn to the beauty of the voice, or, just perhaps, what caught its interest were the subtle changes happening to the woman.

The man seemed oblivious to the changes, lost in the words he spoke. Had he paid attention to his audience, he would have noticed the way her skin, once pallid and sickly, started to take on an ethereal luminosity. He would have seen the way all traces of imperfection left her body. He would have been able to witness the way the grime and grease in her lank hair evaporated, to leave dark, beautiful soft waves in its wake.

The light travelled further into the room, until it reached the bed. There seemed to be no stopping its progress, as it moved steadily towards the morphing woman, before finally reaching the tips of chocolate tendrils that fanned out on the pillow beneath her head. As the particles reached her glistening skin, the reflection hit the face of the reader and his attention was drawn towards the source.

That was when he, too, noticed the changes. The book fell from his hands and his mouth hung open in wonder, as desperate hope shone in his eyes. He inched closer, not yet willing to truly believe what he was seeing. The light continued moving, covering more and more of her dazzling form, stripping away the morbid darkness that had once reigned supreme.

The dark lashes gathered at the bottom of her closed lids were long and spidery and the onlooker almost missed their first imperceptible flutter. Stillness stretched on a while longer, before the lashes fluttered once again. The man mirrored the immobility of the woman, as he waited for another sign of movement. It took a long time for it to come. When the lashes fluttered a third time, the eyelids followed suit, before finally lifting.

Her scarlet eyes opened.

A/N: What did you all think? I was getting a bit stuck on how to finally write the end of her transformation and I hope this came out okay for you all. Let me know what you all think and I'll see you all ASAP for the next chapter :)