Carlisle

I stared at Mr. Hale's phone number for about 15 minutes. I was unable to decide whether it was a good idea for Rosalie's parents to be here with her so early in the assessment. Their presence could sabotage the examination and my ability to make a valid diagnosis as to whether she needed my medical treatment.

From what my dear Esme had told me, Rosalie's mother was cold, harsh and indisputably selfish. Plausibly focused on fashion instead of her own daughter and even encouraged Rosalie to lay off the additional calories due to gratuitous weight gain.

Her father was not much different. I had sensed him to be particularly vain and unproductive when communicating with him in the hospital wards. He talked nothing of his home life other than himself and his wonderful wealth. The only time I had heard him talk about Rosalie was when he felt the need to refute something she did or how he was positively affirmative he would never find a bachelor willing enough to take her on.

Esme came into the office and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, lightly rubbing them of the stress they concealed. "Don't stress, Carlisle. We'll figure something out. Rosalie seems greatly comforted by Emmett's presence right now. So much that I think a couple of hours won't hurt her parents. We can tell them when perhaps she is ready." She pulled Mr. Hale's number from my desk and hid it out of view. "I just finished group therapy with the girls. Bella is taking over to do some craft activities. Renesmee wanted some involvement and I feel it's better not to try and explain who she is to Rosalie yet. Therefore, I can support Rosalie if needed if you'd like to examine her and make a judgment. I think we are dealing with an eating disorder on some scale."

I nodded in agreement. Rosalie's case was an unusual one – one that could possibly lead to the exposure of our kind. Although grateful and content that Emmett had finally found his 'soul mate', I was weary that Rosalie would be destined to the same fate as Bella. Turning another human into a vampire in our family wasn't much of an issue – the process would be untimely supported if approved and we would all take in the new person amorously. However, the Volturi would not have much endorsement if we decided to change a human for a second time. On the other hand, the Volturi had been silent on the vampire front since our battle to save Renesmee. They had gone back home to Volterra in what seemed to have been shame and no news about them had circulated for over a year.

"Carlisle." The voice brought me out of my thinking, and I turned slightly, peering up at my dear wife in concern. Emmett's voice carried through the walls like a foghorn warning a ship of dangerous hazards. His tone was laced with concern and the smell of fear was evident even from my office.

Esme followed behind me as I raced out of the office door and into the cold hallway. We had made the facility affectionately for our patients – making sure the hallways or rooms did not signify a hospital and gave off a comforting, loving atmosphere instead of one with formality.

I entered the examination room to the right of the wing with swift speed that still made me look human. Emmett was sat cross legged on the solid surface of the examination table; a small Rosalie perched in his lap.

Her blond curls were pulled back from her head in a sweaty mess, her eyelids a veiny purple and her lips a deep blue. Her little hands were clenched around Emmett's huge shovel hands in an attempt for comfort. I approached her slowly as to not scare her and gently placed my hand on her back. I spent most of the day running my hands under boiling hot water in attempts to warm them up for the patients.

Her chest was rattling, almost wheezing as her lungs fought hard to bring in oxygen. "Rosalie can you hear me?"

A small murmur grumbled against my hand at her back, signalling that she was responding to me despite being somewhere mentally far away. That was a good sign and meant I had enough time to decide what the best course of treatment was.

"I've tried breathing exercises with her for 4.5 minutes." Emmett informed me. "No improvements at all and her body temperature has dropped. She's complaining of not being able to feel her feet or hands and there are signs of cyanosis on her lips and nose. Breathing misses a beat completely every couple of seconds – definite difficulty unassisted."

Tending to Rosalie reminded me of the all the times our family made sacrifices to look after a sick and weak Bella. The amount of times I tended to her injuries in the ER was beyond. Yet, Rosalie seemed much more defenceless than Bella ever did. Her skin was more translucent; she didn't seem to have much corporeal strength and she longed the awareness and love from those around her – almost latching to anyone who gave the smallest amount of interest. It was pitiful – almost as though I was dealing with a small toddler rather than a 16-year-old girl.

I gently cupped the back of her head and secured a non-breather oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. She resisted against me at first, her chest heaving in a feeble attempt to push against my inhumane strength. Her head pushed to the side, her hands pushing down tighter around Emmett's. I had to give it to her, she was determined even in a moment of sickness. "Rosalie," I cautioned quietly. "Let the oxygen help you. Don't fight it okay, sweetheart? It'll just make things harder. It's only a precaution to help you get some air into your lungs."

Eventually, she relaxed and allowed me to attend to her state. Her violet eyes remained closed the entire time as I once again checked her breathing rate, her temperature, her pulse rate, her blood pressure and her skin reaction. I had to pry her eyes open gently with my thumb in order to check her pupil reaction. She was clearly exhausted.

Emmett then lifted Rosalie onto the ground with gracefulness only a vampire could carry out and shifted her on to the weighing scales without her even knowing. He moved so gently and quickly, she probably still thought she was lying in his lap.

With her hospital records stating her height to be 175cm, her weight reading was undoubtedly underweight, especially if she had grown since her last record examination.

I indicated for Emmett to sit her back on the bed and I pursed my lips in quiet observation. "Rosalie? Can you open your eyes?"