Chapter summary: She keeps saving my life, but whenever she's around, Death keeps calling for me. Once? Twice? Maybe a coincidence. But four times in one week? How do I ask the question? I wonder how she'll take it. Like everything else? One way to find out.

I lay in bed, propped up in sitting position, my body bundled tightly in the blanket, my arms outside it at my sides. My PJs this time were much more austere: just a tee and a pad inside panties. It was Rosalie who had put these clothes on, of course. After my screams subsided with the agony, I didn't even have the strength to sit up in bed. She had carried me there like I was a rag doll and had laid me down so gently on it. She had propped me up to put on the tee and had to pull my arms though the sleeves. I was utterly exhausted: still drunk from the all too recent experience with the pain seizing me replacing the numbness of the cold and then ever-so-slowly seeping out, as it was reluctant to relinquish its hold over me. I barely even noticed her putting the pad and panties on me. When I did, I was too far gone to be embarrassed. It was almost funny to me: as she slid the panties up my legs, it felt as if she embodied the opposite of the groom at a wedding reception: restoring my panties instead of removing the garter. And, after wrapping the blanket about me securely, here she was now, feeding me. Rosalie brought me another cup of soup, this time in a real cup. She alternated cups of soup and water. I guess she got the cups from wherever she got the clothes. It was hard for me to tell which one was better, the soup or the water. I liked them both so much right now.

After so many years looking after Pa, I had forgotten what it felt like to be cared for by somebody else. I wondered if this is what it felt like with Ma when I was a little girl. She pressed the bowl to my lips, and I took another sip. The heat of the soup pooled in my mouth for a second, and then slid down my throat to heat me at my very core from the inside out. She moved the cup away, reaching for the water.

"Ro..." I hacked and coughed. My throat was raw from the screaming. I hope I wouldn't get an infection. That would be bad.

She looked at me, hesitating with the cup of water at my lips. I sipped, and she moved it away.

I whispered, careful of the throat: "Rosalie, I have to ask you something, and I have to tell you something. Will you please hold my hand?" This was going to be hard, and I needed all the support I could get, even from Rosalie. Especially from Rosalie.

I turned my hand closest to hers palm up. She gave my hand a quizzical look as it tried to twitch from the surface of the bed, but then placed hers in mine. I looked at my hand and closed it over hers as tightly as I could.

"Whatever happens, don't let go, okay?" I looked back to her eyes ... they narrowed. "Please?"

She thought for a moment and then shrugged. So stubborn. It wasn't a promise, but it wasn't a no. And it was still annoying, but I had more important fights to fight right now.

"Well, okay. I want to start by saying that I'll try to be a good girl. I'm sorry about what I said this morning. I did tell you that it may not be what you wish to hear, but I didn't know that it would affect you like that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm."

She did narrow her eyes a bit at that, but she didn't let go of my hand.

"And thank you. Thank you for saving my life again, and thank you for feeding me and clothing me and taking care of me. I know I'm a lot of trouble for you, I'm sure, so I'm sorry for that, but thank you for doing all that in spite of me. You know, ..." I considered, "I really wish you could talk now so we could have a conversation. I know what I'm going to say is going to make you angry with me. And what I'm saying may be wrong. But I've thought about it. And it needs to be said now. So, I'm sorry we can't talk this over, and I'm sorry for what I'm about to say. But, please ... please just hear me out before you do something like storm out or scream or kill me, okay?"

I looked at her intently. She already looked angry, and I hadn't even started yet. So I pleaded: "Please? Because I can't even lift my arms! I'm so weak, so if you did something, like leave, I would probably die before you came back. So, please?"

If she could have sighed or shouted or something, I think she would have, with the way that she looked at me, but instead I saw her struggle with herself — I must really be saying things she didn't want me to say, or something — and eventually nodded.

Hey, wow, I got something other than a shrug. Stop the presses!

"Thanks." was all I said to that. Let's not push it, shall we, Bella?

"Okay, so, the way I see it, what has been happening? I could explain in a couple of ways. They may not be right, but this is all I've got to work on. So, I'm going to tell you them both, and then it's all up to you what you want to do with it ... so, the hard one first. And, again, I'm sorry to say what I have to say, but just bear with me."

How to start? I just didn't know. She was looking at me, holding my hand, and I was about to tell her that she was a monster.

"Well, it's like this ..."

This was so hard.

"You promise not to let go?"

She looked away for a second, grimaced, and then lifted my hand a little with left hand — the hand that was holding mine — and then placed her right hand under mine. She had to bend forward slightly to hold my hand thus, and she raised her eyebrows at me, as if to say, I'm really holding your hand here. I could see her impatience.

"Okay. Well, looking over what's happened in bringing me here — and I hope this isn't the case, but — it appears to be like ..." All or nothing. I squeezed as hard as I could on her hand with mine and whispered: "Well, do you like to play with your food?"

I had expected anything, I thought. But I didn't expect this. My words reached out an slapped her in her perfect face. She flinched slightly, but then her face hardened, and she rose slowly, standing, and looked at me with a stony expression.

I breathed in at her reaction. I hadn't surprised her because the statement wasn't true. I had surprised her because I had guessed right!

She took in my shocked expression, and then she smiled her terrifying, dazzlingly beautiful smile. I saw her perfect and pure white teeth gleaming in the dim light of the cabin. Then, deliberately, she took in a breath of air and, with it, a breath of me. Her eyes went from vivid yellow to coal black, but she didn't speed off. No, she was absolutely still, and in that stillness, she began to lean in toward me.

I couldn't look away from her eyes. I had thought, when her eyes changed like that, that they went flat black. But, no: these eyes were the darkest black, but a fire, a black flame, burned within them. And the flame was hungry.

As she leaned closer, I saw the slightest distinction between her black irises and her pupils, but then I got lost in the twin pools that were her eyes. Their depth went on and on, and I wondered, looking into those eyes, if this was what forever felt like.

Her eyes went on forever, and the only thing anchoring me to reality, to this earth, was her cold, unearthly hand holding mine. At least she kept her promise and didn't let go.

As my end closed to me, I had that one comfort: at least she still held my hand.