Thought about making this chapter into two short ones, but decided against it. I figured it's about time we get on to Italy, isn't it? New Moon always was my favorite book (not because of Jacob, but because I love the end!)

The first Twilight movie will always be superior though.

9 primavere- Ermal Meta

Hör ich das Liedchen klingen- Robert Schumann

Requiem Mass in D minor- VI. Lacrimosa- Mozart

Hot, thin blood spilled into my mouth, pulsing and silky wet. I had already snapped the bobcat's neck so its body was limp. My fingers were buried in the coarse fur of its neck to hold it to my mouth while I rapidly swallowed all it had to offer me.

I dropped it to the ground, mentally thanking the creature for feeding me. Immediately, I could feel the blood spread from my stomach outwards. The burn in my throat was subsiding and there was a pleasant feeling of satiation that came from the hunt, a rush of shallow pride no matter how execrable the meal itself was. Even a bobcat's blood was ersatz, but it was satisfying enough to make do, and at least I was clean and composed. The body fell, and memories flooded forth of the first time I had ever hunted- if one could even call that hunting. Even if I was capable of forgetting anything, that experience was sure to be one that would never fade.

All changes are excruciatingly painful- the venom ensured that, no matter how much Carlisle and I had tried to lessen that burden when we changed the rest of our family. However, neither of us had been provided that luxury, so my own change had been long and brutal. I knew that my heart had barely been beating, weak from the stress of a long labor and the lack of blood. The shadowy figure who changed me had done so blasély, almost lazily, as if they didn't really care. They had only bitten me because they had been begged by someone who didn't know exactly what they were, and they disappeared as soon as their teeth left my wrist.

Once the venom ran its course and I was freed from the bonds of the hellfire I had been consumed by, I opened my eyes to slapping heartbeats and the concerned faces of people I loved. But I couldn't be bothered by anything else, not the sparkling dust in the air or the looks of terror and wonder. No, nothing in the world was important but the little girl swaddled in a blanket and squirming in the arms of someone who wasn't me.

The now-familiar burn in my throat was beyond easy to ignore as I took her in my arms and stared down at her face. She was perfectly formed, the smattering of hair on her head dark and thick, her little eyes wide and a swirling blue that would eventually flicker into a brown that matched my own. I gazed at her in awe, so focused on her fragile little body and the delicate pulse of her heart, the way her little fingers wrapped around one of mine as if she was demanding that I never leave her again, that I almost didn't notice that she had begun to wail. Her whole face turned red, blush rushing under her gossamer skin. Her face screwed into a scream, her tiny little mouth opening into an o while she made herself known. She was so angry. I couldn't believe how she could be so small yet so strong, her whole body trembling with the might of her demands.

Hesitantly, almost fearfully, she was taken from my hands by the wet nurse. It hadn't registered with me how much time had passed, but somehow the night had almost ended and the sky was starting to lighten, paving the way for dawn to break and the summer day to begin.

The terror burst forth, freed and surging from the loss of contact with that little warm body that had been nestled in my arms. Somehow, I knew I had died. Or, at least, I should have. I had been preparing myself for my impending death while I was still alive, trying to get my baby free from my doomed body. Then, suddenly, I broke free from the hell I thought I had been condemned to and got to cradle in my arms the baby I thought I would never see.

I looked around the room to the wide, wary expressions of the few women I trusted enough to keep my company in labor. I didn't know what I looked like yet, but I could guess now what they saw- wild red eyes, shockingly pale skin, unnaturally still posture as I flexed defensively while watching the nurse feed my little Margherita, named for my mother-in-law and gurgling happily as she ate.

The thirst slammed into me. I had no idea what it was, but I knew well enough that it was wrong. I knew I needed to leave, and impossibly I managed to drag my eyes from my little baby and unlock my body enough to dart out the door far faster than any human should have been capable.

I didn't know where I was going, but I felt frantic and frazzled. My body felt strong and fresh, not at all burnt and destroyed as I figured it should have been after the week of torturous labor and blazing pain. I had always been less than graceful, but my steps were silent on the stone floors, and I could impossibly hear the little girl I had named for my own mother toddling about her own room, the flutter of her heartbeat and the joyous giggles of her laughter.

I was operating on autopilot, and some instinct dragged my body out of a window so I scaled down the side of the building and dropped into the garden in the courtyard. I wove out of the palazzo and burst out into the piazza that was thankfully still shuttered except for the baker. I breathed deeply, expecting to smell that deliciously warm scent of fresh bread that oftentimes wafted into the palazzo and lured one of us outside to fetch some of it, but instead I was greeted with a rancid, nauseating odor that forced me to somehow stop breathing just to avoid it.

I followed my feet away from it, sprinting through the few blocks of the city and out to one of the lakes that bordered us. By then, my body was screaming for something, and I felt more like Margherita than I ever thought could be possible. My throat was burning and ragged as if I had been screaming it raw for hours, my hands trembling with untapped energy and instinct. I somehow swam through the expanse of the lake in just a few seconds, emerging into a farming town that supplied food for the city. I didn't even know what I was doing. I had no idea what was happening to me, no prior knowledge of any kind of supernatural existence that could have led me to guess anything about my change.

All I knew was that I needed something. I walked into a stable with purpose, wrapped my arms around the closest warm body I could fine and sunk my teeth into a pulse point. That same hot, thin blood flooded into my mouth, unfamiliar and unappetizing, but I couldn't resist sinking further into it. It was warm and inviting, and I could feel the hot liquid sloshing in my stomach and blooming outward. The body dropped and I reached for the next, and the next, and kept going until I felt that tingling warmth in the tips of my fingers. The last swallow coated my throat, and finally that burn that had taken up residence there felt soothed.

I looked around at the carnage at my feet, piles of bodies with crusting blood matting into fur and wool. I noticed it was drying on me, too, soaked into the cotton shift dress I had been changed into and caking my hands and face.

I don't think I could ever put into words the terror and horror that washed over me then. I had to be some kind of monster. I disposed of the bodies, trying to ignore my new reality as much as I could as I made quick work of what I figured had to be done. All I could really think of was getting back to that little baby, her warm body and quick little heart and glassy, adoring eyes. The instinct to hold her again was stronger than anything, even that which had driven me to perpetrate the butchery in the farmhouse.

And now, I just wanted to get back to Edward. It wasn't the same as with Margherita, that fuzzy and light feeling that kept me from dwelling on my fears and held me afloat until I managed to find my footing and figure everything out for myself.

If anything, this was the opposite. I was comfortable with the thirst and the routine of the hunt, obviously no longer horrified or surprised by my nature. Wrangling a bobcat and easily snapping its neck was normal for me now, not this weight that had taken up residence in my chest and strangled itself around my unbeating heart.

Edward was the only balm that could soothe it. Even just thinking of him helped, though only minutely.

I had left him with Esme after putting away the dishes from his dinner. We left the meadow with the sun, though also with a renewed lightness. I ran freely, Edward laughing elatedly on my back as I wove through the trees and jumped over rivers. When I glanced back at him over my shoulder, he was grinning, his bronze hair tangling in the blowing wind and his cheeks slap-pink and dimpling sweetly.

Esme, evermore patient, was showing him some tricks in playing chess- especially, as she claimed, with people like me and Emmett, who cheated. I loudly denied it, but they both rolled their eyes and ushered me out the door with insistences that I hunt.

I wasn't sure why I was thinking so much about my human family. Maybe it was my impending departure to Italy, and the proximity it would bring me to my old home? Maybe it was Alice's own very recent change that had reminded me of it?

I didn't like to dwell on it too often, and I never spoke about them unless I was asked directly. It was another one of the hard realities of this existence- that pain of leaving people behind, of watching those you love grow old and move into whatever comes next. It was better to just not think of it, of them, if I didn't have to.

But I couldn't drive away the memories of those tiny fingers wrapped around mine, or those wide little eyes that were so aghast at a world she had only been in for a few days.

I hadn't gone far from home but as much as I wanted to return, I knew I needed to hunt more. At least in the hunt, I could give myself over to that baser instinct and push the lingering memories aside for a while. I had only drunk from one deer and the small bobcat, and that wasn't even close to enough.

I inhaled deeply, sorting through the scents on my tongue for something worth seeking out. One of them was woody and soft- a pine marten, another sour and rigid and acutely reptilian- an alligator lizard. Finally, a familiar, gamey scent of a deer, not exactly appetizing but perfectly suitable for my needs. I made sure the body of the bobcat was out in the open and available to whatever scavengers came along after, and took off after the stray deer.

It wasn't far at all, but I took my time. I ran alongside the river's edge, my feet sliding along the mossy banks, damp from the spray of rushing water. It had been a sunny day, so everything else was still relatively dry, and I purposefully stepped on a branch. It snapped under my foot, and I could hear the deer's heart race. I hadn't startled it enough to give chase, but the anticipation was still there.

I was moving so mindlessly I almost didn't realize where I was, but when I did, I skidded to a stop and spun on the balls of my feet. The deer was forgotten, prancing away and completely unaware of the fate it was escaping.

It was the tree. That same tree that I had heard as it was struck by lightning just a few months ago, still here, as if it had anywhere else to go.

It was rotting, as I knew it would be. The tree was dead the second that electrical charge split it in half. The bark was dark and crumbling, soft from the rot and the wetness that had permeated deeply. The roots still look fried, frayed and dangling hopelessly from where they had been ripped from the ground when half the tree fell from its other half. Everything was dead now. Not even that one bough on which I had once managed to save a fragile little bird's nest that was home to three little eggs was spared from that fate- leaves were limp and brown-to-black, shriveling helplessly and hopelessly. I reached out to touch the branch the nest had been on and the bark gave way under even my delicate touch, caving in and disintegrating into wet dust and splinters.

I turned, looking around the surrounding woods. I was so close to home. How had I never come back here? How had no one else come across this once towering oak and marveled at its downfall?

Aimlessly, helplessly, I wandered away and over to the other tree, the squat one with the wide canopy that was still stolidly standing, unaware of the collapse and decay of its brethren. I jumped back up to the thick and stretching bough and walked out on the snaking limb until it began to taper off, creaking under my weight until it wouldn't be able to hold me up any longer. I knelt down, touching my hand here, my palm spreading across the rough wood. It was here I had placed the nest I had saved, below the densest foliage and in a protective little crown of leaves that would cradle the nest and help the mother wren nurture new life into the world.

The nest was gone, long gone and without a trace. I had no way of knowing if the other three eggs survived, or where their inhabitants were now.

I could only hope that they had flown off into lives of their own, with their own nests to build and an expansive sky to fly through. I hoped they enjoyed the warm day, basked in the sun and relished one of the last dry days we were sure to have until next summer.

Suddenly, it didn't matter that I was still thirsty. I needed Edward, needed to start our weekend together at that very moment. I needed to feel his warmth on my skin, hotter than the sun and exponentially more glorious. I needed to see his crooked grin, I needed to trace the bow of his lips and run my fingers through the silky mess of his hair, scratch my nails along the nape of his neck. I needed to feel that beautiful rhythm of his heart for myself, not just replay it in my memories- no matter how clear my recall was.

I leapt across the river and let my feet carry me along the familiar path to home, a straight and short run that looped me around to the back of the house. It was amazing what one day of sun could do, my shoes not even squishing in the grassy yard, the soil harder and relatively dry.

I straightened my shoulders, expecting to hear that familiar pulse. He should be in bed at this hour, but there was always a chance that he had insisted on staying up to wait for me, and Esme had capitulated and entertained him. Or he could do it more subtly, flipping through a book in bed and waiting until I slid in beside him to stop fighting the heaviness of his eyelids as they tried to pull him into his dreams.

Instead, I was met with silence.

The house was dark, quiet, just like the forest around us. The moon was so bright that it chased away the light of the stars, and my own presence drove away most animals. The only thing I could hear was the hoot of an owl off in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the gentle summer wind and the coursing river beating along its path.

I felt panic choke in my throat, burrowing into the fresh blood in my stomach that no longer felt comforting but rather heavy, burdensome. I darted to the house, but the door opened before I got to it, and my feet froze in place.

Esme stood in the doorway, Carlisle beside her with a hand on her waist. He was still dressed for work, dark slacks and a white collared shirt, his white lab coat still on even though he typically left it in his office at the hospital. I could smell the antiseptic and echo of blood on him that he usually showered off right after coming home.

Their faces were mirror images, drawn and grave, their pallor impossibly ashen. I had to fight the urge to flee, instinct screaming at me to search for Edward and let him hold me in his arms and drive away all of these fears that were roosting in my chest like a meddlesome pest. What could elicit such an expression but for something happening to him?

"What's wrong?" I asked, panic shaking my voice. "Where's Edward? Who's watching him?"

"Bella, please," Esme whispered, her hand reaching out in offering. I stared at it, stunned by her pale palm glowing in the moonlight. I didn't take it. My mind was flicking through gruesome scenario after gruesome scenario, reasons why Edward wouldn't be here and no one else would be with him.

I shamefully concluded that Esme had slipped, but shied away from the thought. There was no blood here, and no way Esme could do something like that. She treasured Edward almost as much as I did.

"No," I said hoarsely. "Tell me. Now." It wasn't a request, but a demand. I was standing at the foot of the steps up to the door. I couldn't enter this house where Edward was not. Besides, I was half-thinking I might physically regurgitate the blood I had just consumed, and I would hate to vomit on the clean hardwood floors or some ridiculously expensive rug.

"It's Alice," Esme started. I had to take a step back, physically recoiling as a thousand scenarios flipped through my thoughts. Every tragedy I could imagine had already befallen her. It seemed unlikely for Victoria to have returned, though she was out there somewhere. And even if she had, there were five incredibly experienced vampires- one being Kate, with the debilitating shock of her touch- and they would all risk anything to defend Alice.

"She's gone," Carlisle said.

I was stunned into silence, frozen in place and all of my usual human fidgets dissipating.

"What?" I whispered. It didn't make sense. Gone? Alice was gone? I repeated it over and over in my head, mentally turning it over and evaluating it and trying to find sense in the sentence. But I couldn't find any. It didn't make sense.

"Alice disappeared yesterday," Esme said quietly. She didn't look me in the eyes, instead her stare fixed on the trees over my shoulder.

"I'm not following," I said. "How did she disappear?" Was this some power? Were they trying to tell me she had some kind of extra power to become invisible?

"We're being unclear," Carlisle admitted. While Esme was stone-still, her face and body frozen, he was the picture of human conflict. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, his eyes darted from me to the ground and back again. "Alice has, to our understanding, decided to leave us."

"She decided?" I asked, voice trembling. "She's four weeks old. She's not capable of making decisions."

There were footsteps inside, shuffling audibly along the hardwood. I hadn't noticed them before, and I realized it was because they were purposefully staying quiet. As if they were lying in wait, to ambush me. Instinctively, I settled into a crouch, my lips curling over my teeth while a growl settled in the depths of my throat.

Not a second passed before I straightened, my mouth setting into a frown. Her hair was straight as corn silk, pale blonde and glowing in the foyer light behind her that set her familiar face into a shadow.

"She left this," Kate said, handing me the paper. It had been torn from a book. I flipped the paper and nearly shivered- The Shining. I wondered if it had been chosen haphazardly or if it was some kind of omen for horror to come.

The paper was speckled with blots of black ink. Alice had had a difficult time with writing, which was unsurprising given the tactile control it took to hold something as delicate as a pen in hand and apply exactly the precise amount of pressure to a page. I wondered if this was a first attempt, or if she had actually practiced writing out the words that set the panicky shake of heartbreak in my chest.

Don't look for me. It will be a waste of your time. There's a life I need to lead right now, and I can't bring any of you into it. I'm so sorry I have to leave you all this way, with no goodbyes or explanations. It's the only way for me. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I love you.

I stood frozen, the paper wrinkled in my hand. The silence around us was encompassing- no one had even taken a breath.

"She left," I whispered.

"I am so sorry, Bella."

"Why? I didn't think she was unhappy… What happened after I left?"

Kate shrugged, her expression drawn and impossibly tired. Her shoulders were slumped, a strange posture where she was typically poised and proud. Hers was a face of defeat.

"I do not know. I did not think it was anything noteworthy. It was all rather typical, if I'm to be honest. Rote, regular. She is, as every other newborn, ravenous and constantly hunting. Other than that, I had thought we were enjoying ourselves. She delighted in wrestling with Emmett, and was just beginning to discuss fashion and wardrobe with Rose. There was nothing out of the ordinary, Bella, there just wasn't."

"But how did she leave?" I pleaded, begging for a mistake. A punchline. The end of some elaborate prank that wasn't landing. Ever since Punk'd premiered, I was half-expecting Emmett to attempt something in the same vein, but if this was it, it was the worst practical joke of all time. But I was expecting something silly with spray paint like that episode with Zach Braff that came out a couple of months ago, not this.

"She ran, Bella. She just ran. It was our fault, maybe. We had grown complacent. Alice needed to hunt, and it was only myself that accompanied her. I figured that it would be enough, that I could subdue her in any case of emergency, and that didn't seem likely anyways. I followed her up one of the mountains, and I thought she was tracking another lion, or in search of a goat or a high-altitude bear. She seemed intent on following something, and I am of course not going to crowd a newborn as she hunts." Kate looked down at her shoes, shaking her head so her hair shimmered with the penetrating shine of the moon.

"I was a fool," she continued. "She sprinted away, and I waited and waited to hear her prey fall, and when it never came, only then did I seek her out. She had scaled the mountain and I followed her tracks in the snow, but they went on and on, down to the other side of the mountain and descending into the valley below, where we had never before ventured to. It is territory she is both unfamiliar with and aware she was not supposed to enter, but she did anyways. I had no phone signal, and I did not want to risk returning home to get the others and losing her trail. Perhaps I should have. She trekked through multiple rivers, and when I could no longer find scent of her I returned home for the others. I was a fool, Bella, we all were. I did not think she would abandon your family, but I found this page on the ground just before I turned back."

I stared back down at the paper, looking for some trace of… of… of something. There was just no way this could be right. There was no reason for it. Alice was happy! She didn't resent me, showed no signs of it at all. She didn't despise this existence, and she wasn't horrified by the reality of monsters, or the idea of eternal damnation or consequences of her soul or anything like that. If she had been, this would make more sense. Like with Rose, when she was a newborn and just after, boiling with rage and self-hatred, I could have understood her taking off without so much as a farewell.

But Alice!

I sunk to the ground, crouching onto the steps and staring at the words as they swirled in front of me.

a life I need to lead

can't bring any of you into it

only way for me

It couldn't be, could it? If what I was thinking was true, it made no sense.

Had Alice left us, left me, for human blood? It was the only possibility, especially with the words she had left behind. But not only had she never smelled a human, so she would have no idea of the temptation she was missing out on. And it was Alice. Kind, compassionate, loving Alice. She wore butterfly barrettes and fairy wings for Chrissake, there was no way she would go out of her way to deliberately and willingly murder scores of people just for her own satisfaction and satiation.

But it was the only explanation. I had heard it time and time again, from my family, from our cousins. I had told Edward about it during our gentle conversations about my changing him. No matter what, there was no desire as strong as that for blood. Even fresh from hunting and gorged with blood, the thirst never completely faded, it was just about learning how to prioritize. And that took time.

And clearly, time was something we didn't have. Alice had already left, not even giving us a chance to hold her back or convince her or help guide her through whatever she was struggling with.

It was so fucking stupid of me to have left her alone. Even if she was with my family- and I didn't blame them, of course not- I was the one who bit her, who changed her. It was my job to guide her in this life, and I so clearly failed. It was so fucking stupid of me. I knew what she had been going through just before she was changed, and I knew how we became frozen when we changed. And I had just let her stew in whatever turmoil and strife she was embroiled in while I ran back to Forks to sunbathe and play chess with her brother.

Her brother.

Edward.

I shot up, my feet almost breaking straight through the step I was standing on.

"Where's Edward?" I whispered.

"He's at home," Esme said immediately.

"But Bella-" Carlisle started, reaching a hand out to rest on my elbow. His touch was warm and gentle, but unwelcome. I yanked my arm back and out of his reach. I didn't want anything else to hold me in place, in this place I didn't belong. Where I belonged was with Edward, what I needed was the scorching heat of his hand. I couldn't believe they had let him go home, and by himself especially.

I took off without another word, letting my feet carry me through the path into town I had run countless times before. I knew every step intimately, could feel the imprint of my old footprints as my shoes barely skated across the hardened ground. I didn't even have to think, and in a matter of minutes I was back to where I knew I belonged.

I stared in through the closed window. He was on his bed, but sitting up with his back against the wall and his legs curled up around him. His hair was a tangled mess from being raked through by his nervous hands. I longed to twist my own fingers through it and gently pull apart the knots from the spun silk, massaging it down until he relaxed under my hand. His mouth was drawn, his lips pressed together into a tight line, and a concerned wrinkle torturing the furrow between his brows. His fingers were drumming on his leg the way he did when he was playing a composition in his mind, this one nervous and frantic.

I rapped on the window, my finger tapping lightly against the glass pane so as to not startle him. His eyes snapped open and met mine, and I was force to take a step backward in the beaten, muddy garden beneath the window. His eyes were red and bloodshot, rimmed pink from tears and glassy with the promise of more to come.

I pulled the window open and slipped inside, not waiting for any kind of permission. I needed to hold him, and I needed him to hold me. I had no words for him, no kind of explanation I could offer, but I had to try.

"I'm so, so sorry Edward," I murmured. The venom was prickling in my eyes, begging to be spilled even though it wasn't possible. "I know you must have seen Kate, spoken with her. I can't even imagine… I feel like I keep having to say this, but I'm so sorry."

"P-please," he started, and I stepped forward, ready to bury him in my arms and flood him with the promise of my love- the only steady, honest, certain thing I could assure him of absolutely. "Please j-just g-go."

My breath caught in my throat and surged through me.

"What?" I choked out. I wasn't hearing things correctly, apparently. Maybe I was too distracted, missing Alice, the way Edward's hair fell messily along his temple. I just misheard, or misunderstood, or something.

"P-please go," he repeated, still staring at me, his eyes glassy and green but unwavering.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" I asked dumbly. I was confused. Where I went, so did he. We were a team. That was the deal. My love for him was so deeply bonded to me that it was as integral to my identity as my name- or maybe even more so, since I could change my name.

He just stared back at me, unblinking and collected.

The unprocessed blood in my stomach curdled, and I swallowed back the need to throw it up.

"You want… me… to go?" My voice felt slow and the words hung thick in my mouth, coating my tongue like soured honey. It was wrong, all wrong, that I could feel myself physically rejecting even verbalizing the idea.

"You're l-leaving anyways," he said softly. His gaze had shifted away from me, over my shoulder and out the window.

"We have a few days-"

"You sh-shouldn't b-be here n-now."

"Is this… I didn't know, Edward. I'm so sorry, but I didn't. If I could have done anything to stop her, you know I would have."

"I know," he said, each word clear and separate as he spoke, punctuated with a resigned sigh. "This is j-just one m-more th-thing, on top of all th-the others."

"No," I was stammering, shaking my head. "This… is this is about more, isn't it? Did I do something wrong."

He still wasn't looking at me, instead back out the window where the night was moving along without us and the world was spinning on. It felt like it had stopped under my feet. Everything else should have come to a halt while the world was crashing down, but there were no sirens or screams or anyone or anything experiencing the pure terror I felt as Edward smiled at me wanly. "Would y-you f-forgive me if I t-told you th-that it's me, n-not you?"

I repeated the words in my head, trying to sift through them for their real intent. I knew what those words meant. The implication behind them.

"Are you… breaking up with me?" I asked. My voice hitched, raising an octave as I trembled in holding back a sob. The words felt hollow, empty, and oppositionally execrable.

"We c-can t-talk when you c-come back," he said quickly. He didn't disagree. He didn't tell me, no, of course I'm not breaking up with you. You're being absurd, and then roll his eyes and welcome me with a crooked grin that turned one cheek up in a dimple.

If I come back. The unspoken words hung between us, dwelling in the space between us, this abyss that felt miles wide and couldn't be bridged by me stepping four feet forward.

"Well, that changes things." I surprised myself by sounding calm. That certainly wasn't how I felt. The gap that had hollowed itself in my chest yawed wide and I felt dizzy with the pain, the understanding dawning as pure as the day.

His gaze flickered to me but returned quickly to the landscape behind me as he spoke again. "I love you, Bella. N-nothing's ch-changed about th-that. B-but I can't do this r-right now. I'm t-tired of p-pretending l-like I understand everything th-that g-goes on in y-your world. I'm n-not a vampire. I know. I d-don't understand a l-lot of things, and r-right n-now, I'm not r-really equipped to d-deal w-with it." He looked back to me, this time lingering on me for longer than a few seconds. "S-s-so p-please, for now, j-just go."

"Please," I whispered, the word sliding out as a beg, my voice a thin whine.

"I c-can't do this."

I opened my mouth to say something and then closed it again. I had no argument, there was nothing I could say to argue with him about his own mental health, nothing I could do when he wanted me gone. He was waiting patiently for me to collect my thoughts, his expression still blank beyond the lingering tears in his eyes and the stains that had tracked down the curves of his cheeks.

"I'll see you when I get back?" I asked.

He nodded, his lips twitching. "We c-can t-talk then."

"If… that's what you want."

He nodded again, just once, wooden.

It was like ice in my veins. The opposite of the change, I felt cold enough to shiver, strung tightly and desperate to gasp for an unneeded breath.

"Please t-take c-care of yourself," he said, the refined composition of his demeanor dropping into one that was at least a torpor that gave me a pearl of hope to hold on to.

"Of course," I promised.

"Don't d-do anything reckless or s-s-stupid. D-don't g-go putting yourself in d-danger j-just because you think it w-will help s-s-someone." He frowned stolidly, looking back out the window again. "J-just keep yourself s-s-safe."

I nodded, helpless but to promise him anything he could ever ask of me. "I will," I whispered.

Edward's shoulders dropped, his back slumping as he relaxed back into his pillow.

"And I p-promise y-you I'll do the s-s-same. And when y-you c-come back, we'll t-talk about everything," he said again, his words more and more hollow the more he repeated them.

"I love you," I blurted, desperate. My knees were locked, trembling with the effort to stay in place when I wanted to run into his arms, to throw myself at his feet and beg for him to talk to me and take me back and let me apologize.

"I love you, t-too," he said with a smile, not crooked but sad, unfamiliar, out of place when the rest of his features were twisted with grief. "But th-that's all. I j-just… I just want t-to b-be alone."

I was dizzy- how could that even be possible? It was hard to concentrate, and his words swirled around in my head, turning over and sliding about like silk in my hands.

"I love you," I whispered again, the words weak and pedestrian when contrasted with the enormity and depth of my love, my adoration, our bond. God, that was screaming at me, boiling every cell in my body.

With shaky legs, ignoring the reality for each fraction of a second I could- what kind of owl was that? Western screech? Barn? What were those ants on the porch carrying, I was trying to occupy my thoughts by figuring it out based on the shuffle of their fragile little legs and calculating the weight they must be carrying- I slipped out the window.

I closed it behind me, careful and deliberate and making sure it locked into place. I couldn't look behind me. I knew he hadn't moved, and I could still hear his steady breath and the intimately perfect beat of his heart. I wasn't breathing, but I could still taste him on my mouth, and in my memories.

I walked. I didn't run, or even move fast. Instead, I walked slowly, like a human ambling about. Movement didn't make sense. How could I find joy in running right now? Especially when it was such an empty activity without Edward clinging to my back, his arms wrapped warmly around my neck and his breath tickling at my ear. Time didn't matter as long as my feet kept moving, the underbrush growing denser as I tore through it like paper, the night growing darker and darker as the echo of the day faded completely.

I had to keep moving when it felt like everything else had stopped.

His words were an echo, too. Sending me away when it went against my every instinct, and I noticed before it was too late that I had circled around to stand at the edge of the forest, right in view of his window.

I couldn't stay away. If I left, if I made myself gone, it would be over. It could be over forever.

The thought tore into my throat.

If something happened to me in Italy… If I never came home…

It was too horrifying. I fell to my knees and the blood launched itself up, spilling from my mouth and soaking the soil under me in a rancid pool, rust-colored and curdled, spoiled with venom. I stared at it as it drenched the ground, draining down and leaving behind a saturated puddle.

It was unnatural. Vampires don't vomit. We don't experience nausea, don't experience any physical illness. But no, I was wiping the mouth with the back of my hand and watching the way the soil darkened and clumped together, the reality of what I had become sinking into the earth. Its memory would be imprinted there forever, the scent lingering, the venom corrupting the ground and altering the soil so nothing else would grow. It was just another thing ruined.

But I still felt the physical pain, my stomach clenching and contracting at its newfound emptiness, my body acting of its own accord and recoiling from the splitting break in my chest.

I had been half-waiting for this, for Edward to finally send me away. And now I had nothing. He was inside, a thin wall but a whole world away. I could hear the slow evenness of his breath, already steady with sleep, and was struck by jealousy. If only I could sleep! I could lose myself in dreams and let this ache subside for just a few hours.

My body felt heavy, like a burden. I would have given anything to free myself with lightness, but the only solution was crawling back through that window and begging for forgiveness and acceptance.

Instead, I slid through another window. I jumped up to the second story, clinging to the eave as I pried the pane open and it screeched under the force.

The upstairs bedroom was spare now, gone untouched in Alice's absence. I didn't think anyone had so much as stepped foot in here since we stole away with her. It had been my intention to come back eventually and sort through her belongings, taking with me the things she would like to keep and leaving a few for Charlie to hold on to.

I hadn't gotten the chance, though.

Everything was exactly as she left it. There was a stack of textbooks on the desk, unopened but ready for the schoolyear she had thought she would be entering. The ancient computer was coated in a thick film of dust, as were the stack of CDs piled on top of it.

Her bed was still unmade, the purple comforter kicked off and the sheets rumpled. There was her sketchpad, crinkled and worn and folded open to a half-finished drawing of a set of oddly familiar eyes that I couldn't place. I picked it up and flipped through, finding the eyes on a few other pages, along with cityscapes and countrysides. There was no cohesive story, just pretty pictures.

There were a few other sketchbooks tucked into the small bookshelf, but I had seen them before. Drawings of James and Victoria filled one, another was Alice's attempts at recreating the few family photos they had- she never seemed to be able to capture the kindness in their mother's eyes, nor the glowing pride of their father's smile. It was a plight I understood intimately- I had only one depiction of myself that I found to be accurate, and it was painted by a great master.

A title on the shelf caught my eye. The Shining. The spine was bent and the cover looked worn. She had read it while human, maybe even more than once. I surveyed the entire shelf and realized something I hadn't registered before- they were almost all horror or suspense. It didn't seem to fit with her aesthetic, among the glossy fashion magazines, collection of The Economist, and art history books.

There was so much I didn't know, and now she was gone, and soon I would be too. I never got the chance to ask her about this. We never had the time to just sit together and talk everything through. There was so much I wanted to tell her, about my past and our family's history, about our laws and ways. I could only imagine the way she would have laughed when she realized just how old-fashioned I really was, especially after months of her merciless teasing over my musical preferences. And she deserved to know it all.

And there was so much I wanted to ask her! The weeks leading up to her change had been steeping in turmoil, and I wanted to know why, I wanted to know what she knew.

I thought I would have plenty of time to do everything I wanted to, that it would only be a few more months until the volatility of the human blood still coursing through her body subsided in place of the bond of my venom still mingling with her own, a permanent tie between the two of us. It was stupid of me to think it unbreakable. The vampire who had changed me had left me, same as with Carlisle. It clearly wasn't an infallible connection. I just wished she had given me the chance to let her know that no matter what, no matter who she became or what she hunted, I would always love her. She would always be my sister.

I tilted the book from its place on the shelf and tucked it into my side. Then I slid off the plain, thin platinum ring from my right middle finger and left it in its place, leaving a piece of myself behind before I slipped back into the empty night, running with heavy steps.

I'm of the firm belief that every couple should fight. It's healthy, don't you think? I hope you'll bear (bare?) with me- there's always a plan.