A/N: Man, I hate this chapter. It's overly emo, irrelevant and the result of a plot seed that never took off. The only reason I'm even keeping it in is that I shoehorned a bit of plot into it, and I'm too lazy to rewrite chapters 3 and 5 to accommodate that.
Chapter 4: Waiting
About five o' clock in the morning, when the party had started to burn out, I could no longer expand the noise to fill my entire head, displacing all the anxiety. I already knew we weren't going to die, but still. As I'd learned the hard way, some things easily get way too close to that for comfort. Maybe I'd have to live through the burning again. Maybe it'd hurt as much as when Edward left. It could maybe even be worse than when the Volturi were coming to kill Renesmee.
I gasped and sat up in my old bed at an unnatural speed. A little squeal escaped my lips, and I stood up and began to pace around the room at a frantic pace. My chest felt oddly empty, as if someone had ripped a hole through my ribs and out through my back. I knew this feeling too well, and I'd hoped I would never have to feel it again. When I was still human, this was the feeling I'd get every time I was thinking about things that were far too hard and painful to comprehend.
I kept obsessively flashing back and forth between my bed and the door, trying to drown out the unwelcome thoughts with physical activity. Once in a while, a surreally clear and melodious shriek exploded from deep in my chest. I kept it low enough not to wake Renee, who was sleeping on a mattress by the wall, but even that demanded more self-control than it had meeting Charlie a year ago. But someone had to hear it, and I wasn't as much afraid to tell them than I feared I would react.
Luckily, I couldn't blush or cry anymore. Not even bleed. Somehow, the thought deepened my frustration and fear, and a moment later, Alice barged in the door, disturbingly silent. "What's the matter, Bella?" she whispered in a tone that held as much poorly-veiled pity as it did compassion.
I decided to get it out. If anyone would understand, it had to be Alice. Not Rose. She was too bitter, and every time I talked to her, she somehow managed to change the subject to her own story. "Sorry if I'm wasting your time, but I just can't seem to grasp what you saw. It's-"
"Really. Stop avoiding the question." Her words sounded unexpectedly crude, hiding a hint of panic and something more nebulous, something harsh and impatient.
"Okay... I'm afraid." Alice's face flattened into a frown, and she exhaled loudly and glanced down at her fingers for a split second before answering. "That's no problem. I'm scared too. Even more now, when I can see who's behind this."
"Who?", I wheezed in a voice that actually managed to sound breathless. Somehow, irony always came back to haunt me in the wrong situations.
"Aro. His mental fingerprint is all over my vision. Seems like he just won't leave us alone." I inhaled in shock, and shivered at the thought that I'd never look scared again, even though this - Aro trying to get to us again, veiling Alice's sight, maybe trying to kill us all - tore through my stomach and chest like my lifeless organs were melting into white-hot iron inside me. I actually thought I felt something in my cheeks, like a blush. Alice kept her gaze fixed on me, a mixture of frustration and unfocused anger dancing in her - unsurprisingly - already almost-black eyes. When I thought she was going to take the anger out on me, the odd feeling intensified, and I felt a tickling sensation under my eyes. Her mouth fell open in surprise, her expression showing worry, fear and a look of recognition. "Alice... what's bothering you?", I managed to squeeze out between the reflexive, panicked contractions of my chest. "Look in the mirror. After that, I'll get Carlisle to talk to you." I was just about to ask what she meant by "talking to Carlisle" when I looked in the mirror on the closet. My cheeks had actually taken on a flush, but it wasn't a healthy, rosy blush. My face was still pale, but red lines snaked up my cheeks and up to my eyes, giving me a sickly look. Where the lines ended, small drops of blood were beading on my eyelids. Alice picked me up while I stood stunned in front of the mirror, and lifted me over her shoulder without any problems. It seemed like she'd seen this before. Almost as if she'd read my anxiety, she started explaining while she began running towards the house, the window not even being an obstacle. "Happens once in a while. Specifically, Rose had it a lot in the beginning.", she told me in an urgent voice. "Not physically dangerous. But it must really be bad to provoke that reaction. That's why we need to talk to him. Can't afford to ruin your life when we need it the most."
I thought I saw her smirking a bit there, a bitter grimace with a hint of glee shining through.