Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.
Edward arrived at the mental institution and was reunited with Bella. Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper searched Forks for survivors and told the wolves Bella was dead. The Cullen's camp was attacked, but Carlisle made a truce with the other coven's leader and they were informed of the Volturi's mandate. Next the Cullens met with the Denali coven. Meanwhile, Laurent betrayed their whereabouts to the Volturi. The Volturi returned to Denali and took Bella, agreeing to let the Cullens accompany them to Volterra after some quick thinking on Bella's part. They arrived in Volterra, where Aro agreed to consider their argument about Bella, who was led to the human quarters.
Chapter 11 (BPOV)
If I were a more social person, I might say something right now. I probably should. Announce myself, say, "Hi, my name is Bella; it's a pleasure to meet all of you." Give my fellow inmates a new first impression, you know? After all, these are the people I am bound to spend the duration of my life with. But, of course, I've never had that much social tact.
Instead, I freeze against the door for several seconds, my eyes wide, mouth agape, and face cherry. After several agonizing seconds of resembling very closely a performer who was in the middle of the stage and realized he had forgotten his pants, I tentatively begin to shuffle toward the food. Their eyes follow me as I take a pastry and being to nibble. I wish feverishly that I could blend in with the wall or become a shadow.
I scurry over to the nearest couch and sit self consciously, crossing my ankles like some teacher from an etiquette class Renee once insisted we attend together told me to. I keep my eyes fixated on my lap until a boy's voice makes me jump.
"Oh, well isn't that wonderful? Another survivor has joined our ranks," a boy reclining on the couch just across from mine proclaims with a slight English accent. When my head snaps up to look at him, I wonder if the term boy really applies. The brown-haired male must be as old as me, if not older. He has a square jaw and thin lips curled up in a smirk, and his eyes, a simmering blue, make me instantly wary of him.
"So, how'd you avoid kicking the bucket, babe?" he asks lowly, leaning toward me as I lean back.
"Oh, shut up Conner!" the girl next to him reprimands him, striking him upside the head. Then she turns to me and smiles. "Sorry about my brother. He can be a bit of a . . . jerk, sometimes. And to think, he was so sweet when he was two."
I still can't bring myself to speak, so I wave dismissively at her in an attempt to convey that all is forgiven.
"My name is Rowling, by the way," she introduces herself, offering me her hand, "Jennifer Rowling. No relation to the author."
"I wish," her brother snorts from beside her, "Can you imagine the cars we could buy with that kind of money?"
"If you could avoid harassing the bank tellers long enough to not make us get kicked out of the bank."
"Sister," he gasps in mock horror, his hand flying to his heart, "I have never harassed a soul in my life! Have I talked to girls? Yes. But your accusation hits home, Sis, really."
Jennifer only rolls her eyes at him before turning back to me. "So, how did you survive?" she inquires gravely, her jade green eyes mystified pools of curiosity.
All of the attention in the room is suddenly turned to us. Jennifer's question has struck some cord with our fellows, a cord that brings the unwelcome eyes back to my burning face. I glance around the room warily, as if I expected them to all unite and attack us any moment.
My mouth opens to respond, but the weight of her question knocks the words right out of my throat. What could I possibly say to these people whose loved ones have died? I can't imagine telling them about being locked in an asylum for suicidal tendencies would help them like me. No, I really can't see that going over well . . .
"I know how I survived," some guy in his mid-twenties sighs, rescuing me, "My girlfriend and I were trekking around Europe in between cities to meet up with my best bud Cheese where he was studying abroad. Spring break for us, y'know? We spent a few days in the woods, and, when we got to Paris, poof! Nothin' there but bodies. After a few days of lookin' for Cheese with zero luck, those freaky dudes grabbed us."
"My brother and I," a man with a heavy Russian accent slowly begins from across the room, "were hunting. Second day, bear attack me. Christoff go for help, and he never come back. These Volturi find me bleeding and bring here." The large man shakes his head, cringing when something hurts. He rubs his shoulder tentatively. "They no doctors here."
"I just got lost," a meek woman says meekly from where she sits in the corner, "I was driving to my aunt's house in North Dakota, but I took the wrong road. Before I knew it, I was out of gas, and I was stranded in the fields for days. I eventually came across a farm house, but the owners were d-dead, and no one would answer the ph-phone. I was wondering outside again when they found me." She shivers at the last thought, and I sympathize with her internally.
The silence after the woman's story lasts for several moments before an old woman speaks up. Her white hair falls loosely around her stiff shoulders, and I feel a sort of automatic respect for her. "I didn't even know anything was happening," she tells us quietly, and everyone seems to lean closer to listen, "I live alone, you see? I find the mountains very peaceful. I was gardening, just like any other day, when they came for me. Very rude, they were. Feeding me this ludicrous story about some super-plague killing billions. My automatic assumption was that they were telling me a falsehood. Then they demand I go with them, leaving the home I've lived in since my Herald died. I showed them my shotgun and told them I would not stand for it, but they took me here anyway." She sighs regretfully, shaking her head. "Now, of course, I see that they were telling the truth."
We all look around for another person to volunteer their story, but a high-pitched wail echoes from the corner. I jump in my seat, whipping my head around to see a little girl hiding behind the buffet table. She must not be more than four or five, maybe younger. Her blond tresses are tangled in a mess around her head, and her red face is streaked with tears. Panicking, I wonder how no one ever noticed her before. Her cry awakens an innate maternal instinct inside of me, and I, along with several other women, jump up to comfort the distressed child. Though I am the closest, several somehow get to her before me. The small group of women converges around her before I am halfway there, and, feeling useless, stand at the edge of the group, nervously searching for something I could do to help the child. Channeling all of my knowledge of children picked up from movies and experiences with Renee's students, I think of what might cheer up a child. My eyes lock on a chocolate cupcake on the buffet table, and I know that this is the best way I can contribute. I swipe the sweet and timidly push through the women to reach the girl.
"Here," I offer her with faux cheerfulness, "I have a cupcake for you. It's, uh, chocolate!"
But the girl pays to attention to me. "I-I want my mommy!" she wails as one of the women pulls her into her arms and hushes her soothingly.
Feeling overwhelmed and inadequate, I rush away from the group and put the cupcake back in its place before plopping back down on the couch. I run my fingers through my hair quickly, trying in vain to block out the child's cries and wondering imploringly where my Edward has gone. I bury my face in my hands until her shrieks quiet to gentle sobbing.
After that entire ruckus has died down, Jennifer speaks. "I honestly don't know how my brother and I survived. We lived in the middle of London. Our family and friends caught ill, but we . . . just stayed healthy. Never even coughed once. Our neighbors, friends, and family just, well, died around us. After that, we waited around to die to, but we never did." She stares at some point above my shoulder for the duration of her speech, her eyes wide with her memories of the last few days. My heart aches for her. It must have been terrible, watching everyone die like that. It's difficult enough for me just knowing that everyone I ever knew or cared for is most likely dead now.
"What about you?" Conner asks petulantly, "We told you our story; now you tell us yours."
I bite my lip, pondering what to say to them. I glance fleetingly at the door, wondering how incognito this whole vampire thing is right now. If I give away the Volturi's secret when I'm not supposed to, they definitely won't let me spend eternity with my beloved. Sacrificing me to sate the populace's wild thirst is more likely. Lying is out; I'd never get away with it. Sticking as closely to the truth as possible would be my best bet, no matter how ashamed I am of that truth.
"I was having some, er, trouble. I was, uh, admitted to an, um, institution, and I was in, uh, solitary confinement when everything went down," I explain hurriedly, unable to tear my eyes from the designer boots Alice forced me in before we left Alaska.
"So, translation: you were locked up in the loony bin in a cell when all this went down?" Jennifer asks dryly.
"Yes," I whisper meekly.
"For what, might I ask?"
"Er, um, suicidal tendencies," I responds as quickly as I can, hoping sincerely that she wouldn't inquire further.
"Oh, the irony!" exclaims Conner, waving his hands in the air, "Of all the people in the world, you survive! And all the people I watched die, who wanted so badly to live, suffocate, or hemorrhage, or whatever, and you, the crazy one who actually wanted to die, is sitting here talking to me right now!" He laughs hysterically, his eyes gleaming with a sick gleam.
I sink further into my seat, ashamed and frightened. "I want to live now…" I defend myself meekly.
He jumps up from his seat and sticks his face out inches from mine, practically snarling as he shouts at me. "Listen here, you selfish little…"
The wooden doors are flung open with a resounding boom, and I think the wood actually cracks as it slams into the walls. My bronze haired angel is holding Conner up by the shirt before the doors have time to shut.
"If you ever speak to her that way again, I will personally tear you limb from limb. Do you understand me?!" he hisses menacingly. The boy blubbers for a few moments. "I said, do you understand me?!"
"Y-y-eah, man, uh, sorry, I mean, I didn't mean to o-offend you or anyth…" he sputters, shaking in Edward's grip.
Edward quite literally throws him onto the couch beside his sister, where he stays. He brings his feet against his chest and cowers into the seat in an attempt to get as far away from my vampire as possible. His sister glances from her brother to Edward repeatedly, her looks alternating from intense concern to disgusted rage.
Then Edward turns to me, and I forget them completely. He releases the full force of his golden eyes on me, and I melt. He sits beside me on the couch and pulls me protectively into his lap, never taking his eyes off of me. I wrap my arms around his neck and inhale deeply, welcoming his familiar scent.
"I missed you," I murmur into his chest.
"And I you," he sighs, holding me closer.
"We spoke to Aro, and he has definitely agreed to consider your changing," he explains lowly, "We just need to wait and see how many humans they can bring in. They expect to find a lot more once they can organize more search parties. For now at least, we'll definitely be together. He has agreed that we will definitely be useful in this new era, so we will be allowed to stay."
"Oh, thank goodness!" I utter shakily.
He brings his lips to mine, and I completely forget the humans surrounding and the situation outside of these walls.
We are quite rudely interrupted by Jennifer's exclamation. "What are you doing with that thing?" she spits at me.
Edward brings his lips slowly from mine, and I take in a wild gasp of air before turning to face her. Her brother is still cowering beside her, and her hand is placed protectively on his shoulder as she grimaces in disgust. I notice that the rest of the room is recoiling from us in horror as well.
I guess they know what vampires are, then.
Authors note: I see this whole "soon" promise isn't working out. How about this? I'll swear to you right now that I will have the next chapter up by Saturday. That gives me a deadline and you something to watch for. If it's not done by Saturday, you guys can yell at me all I want. Thank you for your patience.
Review prompt: What do you think of the pool of survivors so far? Opinions on Jennifer and Conner? Any idea what happened to that little girl?