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The Newborn
By : belladonnacullen
Category: Twilight Series > Het
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Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.
Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
The Boy and the Bear Part I, or Hell’s Not So Bad If You Get to Keep an Angel

Only through this pain, which, while consuming but not destroying love, hope, and joy, tries to burst our breasts with a full-voiced general cry from all the passions, do we live on and are captivated beholders of the spirits.
- H.C. Robbins Langdon on Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony

Thankfully, the day Rosalie returned was dark and overcast. A little sunlight would never have deterred her as she ran as fast as possible back to Cumberland, carrying something that would change our lives forever.

*****

Winter was threatening, and the community was struggling with the harvest, trying diligently to stock up on human food before the snow and ice came. School was closed so that children could help in the fields, myself included. It was difficult to endure harvesting at human speed, and my boredom was compounded as I listened to the tedious thoughts of the others working around me. My only consolation was that darkness came early this time of year. We wouldn’t be out in the fields much longer.

Of course, I knew that food was necessary for these humans to survive, and that these particular humans had endured much already. I saw the lines of worry their hard lives had left etched on their faces, the way brutal work had bowed their shoulders. I took solace in the idea that I might help them in some minute way, even if it was as meaningless as pulling up beets at human speed. But even with this knowledge, I chafed at this activity and had begged Carlisle to allow me to pull all the vegetables the night before while the humans slept, to avoid the monotony of the coming days.

I asked even though I knew what his answer would be. He wouldn’t want to risk human suspicion. Finally, both he and Esme had found a place where they felt useful to humanity again. Ultimately, I wouldn’t do anything to put this in jeopardy for them, and I listened dutifully when he told me in no uncertain terms that I could not harvest everything myself. After all, a week of monotony meant little compared to eternity, and to Carlisle and Esme’s happiness.

But this monotony came to an abrupt end when Rosalie’s thoughts screamed out to me across the brittle wintery air.

“Edward! Edward! God, I hope you’re listening. Go to the clinic, now! Tell Carlisle I’m coming. Please, now!”

Rose was often dramatic, but there was something I heard in her inner voice that made me believe this was for real. That she wasn’t just begging for attention. And also, honestly, I wanted to get out of working in the field. I left without looking back, making my way to the forest where I could run quickly, unhindered by human eyes.

The clinic was nestled at the edge of the tree line, under the shadow of ancient maples. It was a low, wooden whitewashed structure. And while it was small and Spartan, it hummed with efficiency and was tirelessly staffed by one sleepless doctor, and a handful of handpicked nurses and administrators. Under Carlisle’s care, I’m sure there wasn’t a healthier human community in all of Appalachia. I’d never seen him happier than he was putting his vision into practice and helping those humans that needed him the most.

By the time I had the clinic in my sights, Rose’s thoughts had turned from frantic to nearly incoherent. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Please no. Don’t let it be too late. Please, please, please....”

Her voice was miles closer now. I hadn’t known her to run this fast since she was a newborn and I wondered what trouble she’d gotten herself into. I didn’t believe it was a human; she was as abstemious as Carlisle when it came to her thirst for human blood. I imagined she went too far in public somehow, making a spectacle out of herself in some suspicious way. I just hoped that it had taken place far enough away from here that we wouldn’t have to leave.

“Oh no, no, no, no... We’ll be there soon, hold on, hold on...”

We? She had thought ‘we’.

Carlisle heard me approaching and was waiting for me at the entrance of the clinic with a bemused look on his face. “What is it, Edward? Why aren’t you with the others? Are you sick?” he asked with a grin. He raised an eyebrow, knowing I detested human-paced manual labor.

“Rosalie’s coming,” I explained in rushed voice.

Carlisle’s sarcastic grin turned into a wide smile. “I’m glad. Esme will be overjoyed to have her back. Have you told her yet?”

“No, Rosalie’s bringing someone. She’s coming to the clinic. Something’s wrong.”

“Edward, I swear, if you didn’t listen to me… I’ll, I’ll… oh god, hold on! Look at me! Hold on! Tell Carlisle to make everyone leave, now!”

“Edward?” Carlisle saw that my mind was momentarily focused elsewhere.

“She’s nearly here, Carlisle. She just asked that you evacuate the clinic.”

“The clinic?” Carlisle looked around the waiting room, full of sick children and elderly humans. “Perhaps someone’s been injured,” he mumbled to himself. Carlisle ran his hand through his hair, carefully considering what should be done. Closing the clinic would definitely raise eyebrows, and I listened to his thoughts as he surveyed each of the patients, trying to decide who among them could wait another day for care.

He didn’t have long to weigh the possibilities. The salt and copper scent of human blood hit us like a wall of granite. I felt my body go stiff, my mouth filled with venom, my mind turned from words to images, as I scouted the forest, looking for the blood. I managed to inch my body closer to Carlisle’s, hoping that he would restrain me. I didn’t trust myself for a second. He rested his hand on my shoulder reassuringly, but with a grip I remembered well from my newborn days.

The scent of the blood grew more powerful with each passing second; its aroma coated my nostrils and my throat, causing all of my nerve endings to fire. “Where’s Esme?” I growled.

“At the site for the community center,” Carlisle answered absently, scanning the horizon for signs of Rosalie.

“Should I go warn her?” I asked. My intentions were unclear, even to myself. In my mind I ran to alert Esme, in my body I was headed straight for Rosalie.

“No, son, stay here.” Carlisle tightened his grip on my arm.

Carlisle towed me around the clinic with him as he quickly began dismissing his staff with hasty excuses. Worry was showing through his usually equinimatous veneer, and he couldn’t help glancing out the windows towards the forest several times each minute. He gently eased the human patients out of their seats, moving them each toward the exit. But humans are slow creatures, and somehow, many were still milling about the lobby when Carlisle and I finally heard Rosalie’s rapid footsteps running almost noiselessly in our direction.

“Edward, get them all out of here, now. I’ll go meet Rosalie,” Carlisle hissed in a voice too low for the humans to hear. He was out the door slightly faster than humanly possible. A few of the patients in the lobby startled at the sight. But if I couldn’t get the humans out of the building, that might be the least of their surprise. I attempted to block out images of me fighting my sister as I tried to drink the blood of an injured human.

In the state of mind I was in, it was easy to strike a predatory air. One glance at my glowing eyes and the humans left quickly, without looking back. I was relieved Carlisle wasn’t there to see my actions, but my relief was quickly replaced with overwhelming hunger. It took all of my resolve to root myself to the spot, my teeth dripping with venom, my throat burning, and my muscles tightly wound and ready to spring into action.

And almost before it could register, they were in front of me. Rosalie was cradling a bear of a man in her arms. The human was enormous, very tall with hulking shoulders and a head of thick, curling dark hair. His shoulder was ripped open and he was missing a piece of his right thigh: someone or something had torn through his shirt and his trousers to get at the flesh. But that was the least of his problems. He’d been torn open from his neck to his abdomen, his vital organs glistening before my eyes. Carlisle’s hands were sunk deep into the man’s gaping chest cavity. The smell of loose bile and excrement mixed with the heady aroma of the man’s blood. I would have swooned if I could have. The scent of his blood was unusually potent, smelling something akin to pepper and pine.

As Rosalie stood before me, holding this broken body in her arms, my vision clouded over at the sight of so much blood. It was all I could see. It was everywhere. The man, the ground, Rose, and Carlisle were all coated in glistening, warm, bright red blood. Venom escaped from the corner of my mouth and dribbled down my chin.

“Move, son,” Carlisle commanded. I heard his voice as if it came from a great distance.

Carlisle took one hand out of the man’s chest and pushed me out of the way. I stared at the bloody handprint on my sleeve for one, two, three seconds, before I wrenched my eyes from my shirt and looked back at the unfolding scene.

Rose was gasping and I noticed that her fingertips had unintentionally pierced the man’s flesh where she held him, and her eyes never left those of the man in her arms. The man was adrift somewhere in semi-consciousness, his eyes were open, his pupils fixed, but somehow, he seemed attuned to Rosalie’s every movement. Carlisle worked on lowering the man onto a cot with one hand, while he continued to grasp something inside of the man’s chest with the other. I guessed he was trying to keep the man from bleeding out.

“Please,” Rosalie broke the thick, blood-soaked silence that had surrounded us. “Please, Carlisle?” her voice was desperate. She clutched Carlisle’s shoulder with one hand, while the other never let go of the man.

“Edward, get the door.” Carlisle’s voice was firm. Somehow, I made my feet move. I locked the clinic doors before cautiously making my way in their direction.

Rosalie’s thoughts were desperate, “Please, please, please, please…”

With one hand, Carlisle pulled sutures, clamps, and all manner of surgical equipment from a nearby drawer. He shined a light into the man’s gaping torso and began a silent evaluation.

“What is he doing? Why? A light?” Rosalie silently questioned.

“Rosalie?” She turned to look at me, her eyes sad and frantic and hopeful.

“Why the medical stuff?” she asked me silently.

“To save him, obviously.”

“But, but…” Rosalie stuttered silently, “but that’s not what I --”

And then I knew. The man wasn’t here for medical help. Rosalie brought him here to turn him into one of us.

“I’m sorry Rosalie, but this man is gone,” Carlisle interrupted our silent conversation.

“No, I can still feel his pulse. He’s warm,” she countered, clutching at the man’s wrist.

“There’s nothing I can do for him, dear. I don’t have the equipment I would need for wounds as extensive as these. I have no blood here. He’s lost too much,” Carlisle said, placing his hand tenderly on Rosalie’s shoulder.

“Too much? How much do you need?” she asked, shaking off his hand.

“Rosalie, he will die. It’s a miracle he hasn’t already. Let’s close his wound and let him expire in peace.” Then Carlisle caught sight of me, quaking with desire in the corner. “And you should wash yourself,” he advised her, stepping between Rosalie, the man and myself.

“No!” Rosalie screamed, throwing herself over the body. Carlisle and I both jumped at her unexpected outburst.

“Rosalie,” Carlisle scolded as he spun back to face her, “I don’t know what you did here, but I can’t fix it.”

Rosalie was back on her feet, her eyes flashing with anger. “What I did? I saved him from a bear, Carlisle, and I cannot let him die! Please, you have to help him. You have to!”

“Or I’ll end it,” she thought. “Then I’ll have to find a way to end it.”

I saw Carlisle’s eyes intensify with the realization of Rosalie’s request. “What are you asking?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“You know what I’m asking,” Rosalie said defiantly, her eyes raging, fierce.

“I’m sorry Rosalie, but I can’t,” Carlisle sighed, shaking his head slowly and looking her in the eye.

“You can’t, or you won’t?” she asked, one hand balled into a tight fist at her side.

“I said I’d never do that again, without a choice. Not after…” Carlisle looked away from her, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He busied himself closing the man’s wound and setting his clothing in order.

“Not after me, you mean. You’ll do it for Edward, but not for me? You’ll damn me to suffer unhappiness forever?” Rosalie asked, taking a step in Carlisle’s direction.

“Rosalie, who is this man? We don’t know him; we don’t know what he’s like. We don’t know if he would choose this life. You should understand that.”

“I do. Completely. And I know that I don’t want to be miserable forever, Carlisle. Please, you said you thought of me as a daughter, that you would take care of me, that you valued my place in this family. Please, do this for me!”

“How would we restrain him once he’s turned? He’s bigger than the three of us put together. I’d be responsible for him, forever, Rosalie. You’ve only been with us for two years. Do you understand the idea of forever?”

“I won’t live forever without him,” Rosalie was equal parts defiant and sad as she clutched both of the man’s hands in hers. It was as if he had become her life raft, her anchor, and she couldn’t let him go. Suddenly, the man started at her touch and made a strangled sound as his eyes fluttered open and fixed on hers for a second. Just as quickly his eyes went blank and closed.

But a second was all it took. That look was unmistakable. I’d been around Carlisle and Esme long enough to know. I heard Rosalie’s rushed and half-formed thoughts and watched the wordless, thoughtless understanding fly between them as they gazed deep into one another’s eyes. The man managed to think of two words. “My angel.”

“You love him,” I murmured.

Carlisle couldn’t take his eyes of the two of them. “A human?” he asked himself silently. “A dying human?”

“I need him,” Rosalie said to both of us out loud. “I won’t live without him.”

I saw Carlisle’s eyes wandering around the bright clinic. If this were done, we’d have to leave. Immediately. But he turned back to Rosalie, her head bent over the body of the man. Again, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Edward, get Esme. We don’t have much time,” Carlisle murmured. “This matter involves us all. I won’t make a decision like this on my own again.”

I ran as quickly as I could, not bothering to run at human speed. I lost myself in the run, letting the wind whip at my mind, allowing it to wander, something my vampire senses made almost impossible.

Carlisle said he wouldn’t make the decision alone. Would he ask my opinion? Because, in my opinion, it was madness to damn this man to hell, the hell I knew as life, as existence. But that look Rosalie exchanged with the dying man. Certainly he was delirious, but I saw the way his eyes penetrated deep into hers. The way his body eased when he saw her, even in shock, even so close to the end. I shook my head as I ran. It was madness to consider putting him through that pain, through hell fire to join the four of us in eternity. But again, I saw the way Rose clutched the man, the way she’d run with him bleeding all over her, bringing him here to Carlisle instead of eating him. The way she knew, with certainty, that he should be saved from eternal death. It made me think of Carlisle and my own transformation.

*****

I remembered my own awakening with terrifying clarity. The fire that burned hotter and more painful than anything I’d ever felt, and the exacting awareness, gradually dawning with frightening intensity. Hushed Latin prayers rushed through my head in Carlisle’s voice, as if he were somehow feeding them directly into my brain. This internal voice grew with each painful hour. Pictures formed in my mind. I could see myself through Carlisle’s eyes, writhing and screaming on a wooden tabletop, the prayers now loud and distinct inside my head.

My thoughts changed, my brain changed. I’d always been studious, but gradually, with each scorching second, I discovered the exacting ability of my mind to pull things apart and figure them out and put them back together. Hours passed and I memorized and translated each prayer, although I’d never learned Latin in school. I counted the seconds, I listened to the subtle alterations in my heart rate and calculated how long until it finally stopped. Until it stopped. I was dying.

I screamed, throwing my arms about, trying to claw my way from death. This may have been the most painful and terrifying experience I’d ever had, but I wouldn’t trade it for death. I would not die easily. I fought it with every ounce of my being. I forced my brain to work harder, pushing it farther, counting hoof beats (I could hear hoof beats on the street?), calculating the doctor’s heart rate and respiratory rate, tasting the difference between the scents of wood from the table, the bookshelf, and the desk in the corner. I held on to memories desperately: the hospital, my father, my mother, my home … the pictures in the sitting room, the way the canisters on the kitchen counter caught the light, my piano by the picture window.

Music. It had been my escape, but then as I lay burning to death on a tabletop, it became something I could cling to, something to hold me to the land of the living. Preludes, sonatas, symphonies; every piece of music I knew and loved surged through my brain, until my mind settled on Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. All four movements played from beginning to end in my mind. Suddenly, I understood the music in a way I never could before: the struggle and the pain of almost losing everything, but emerging triumphant in the end, just because you made it through. I would make it through this. I would not die.

I felt my fingers moving along piano keys at my sides. My fingers were moving! I was finally moving consciously. And the symphony played faster and faster in my mind, I was somehow able to add the string section with my hands, then the horns, the tympani; my fingers never stopping, never tiring, playing the entire symphony over and over, more elaborately than I dreamed possible. The burning pain may have been destroying my body, but I held onto love, hope, joy, anger, I clung to the faculties of my mind. My spirit rose like a phoenix from the ashes of my former self. The fire was ebbing, my mind was humming, my body felt somehow stronger. I was winning. I would not die.

And the doctor’s hushed words cut through it all. “You will never die, you will never get ill, but you will never live again, either. In this country, they know us by one name: vampire. You will subsist on blood. You will have strength and speed beyond measure. But we must keep our existence a secret from the humans we move amongst. We can never go out in the sun, for we sparkle like cut glass.”

Underneath the calm and soothing voice, another identical voice sounded in my mind. “Finally, an end to the solitude. In just three days I recognized his deep morality, his love for his family, and something else, something of value that I can’t give name to. Something that makes me want him, a human, for the first time in near three hundred years. Potential. I only hope he won’t resent my weakness and selfishness, that he will find a companion in me, like I have seen in him.”

Who was this doctor? What did he mean? I was a son, a friend, and a cousin. I was not his companion. I was not a vampire. I had the Spanish influenza, and I was winning my battle against it. I must be delirious.

But no matter how I pushed myself to hold on to this world, my heart slowed and the fire ebbed and in the end, I knew death was inevitable. I finally lay still, tears streaming down my cheeks, as my heart began shuddering irregularly. My senses were overly acute, and I listened to each last sound with my human ears, smelled each last scent. Heartbeats, a clock ticking somewhere, footsteps on carpet, and was that, was that Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony actually playing on a phonograph nearby? The tears came heavier, because the triumph of the last movement of the symphony, the Allegro, was now forfeit; in the end I hadn’t won. Soon I would be dead.

I wanted to see the world one last time. So I pulled my eyelids open and was assaulted by a vision so beautiful I gasped, and my body unconsciously jumped on the table. The air was full of prisms of light, shining and sparkling before my eyes. What were they? Brilliant explosions, shining reds, yellows, greens, and blues in a near-blinding display. Heaven, I thought. I must be near heaven. This calmed my mind and eased my soul. For if something as beautiful as this existed elsewhere, why should I be sad to leave?

And then suddenly, my heart was jolted awake, accelerating as the fire concentrated there. I though flames must be tearing a hole through my chest, so that my heart could leap from my body and fly away. It pounded harder and faster, shaking my body, pulling my chest off the table, bursting, erupting, spasming, until it was over.

My body was still and silent. There was a split-second of peace that I can still remember quite vividly, where I was sure that the absence of pain, the clarity of my thoughts and calmness of my mind was proof that I’d made it to heaven. I felt myself smile, waiting for my father to come find me.

Instead, I was hit with an overwhelming intensity of sensation, my body registered every touch, my ears were assaulted with the roar of noise, thoughts invaded my brain and I felt like I was drowning in them. Immediately after that, I was hit with deep, fiery, unyielding hunger. Burning thirst. I sprung from the tabletop and was suddenly, effortlessly on my feet, face-to-face with Carlisle. I vaguely remembered him from the time he’d hovered over my sickbed, but in that moment, I was really seeing him for the first time: the jeweled texture of his skin, the perfect planes and lines of his face, the formidable muscle under his suit jacket, and his glowing golden eyes. He was a predator. He was a danger to me.

Without thinking, I was on top of him, pinning him beneath me. Just as quickly I was across the room, my back to the wall, terrified by my own speed and strength.

The man was talking, but his voice was only one of the thousands that seemed to be speaking directly to my brain. Where were all of these talking people? How were they getting into my head? This wasn’t heaven; this must be hell.

My head swung wildly, trying to locate all of the sounds registering in my ears and in my brain: the rush of carriage wheels and hoof beats on wet cobblestones, footsteps on cement. Does he like my shoes? Will I finally get my hands under her skirts tonight? And heartbeats, heartbeats…

My nose sorted through each of the distinct smells: wool, cherry wood, horses, manure, as I attempted to tease out a new scent. Something rich, and vital, something passing on the street outside that I HAD TO HAVE. It was… pulsing. Pulsing, and more necessary than breath, than water… It was pulsing? Pulsing in the veins of people.

You will subsist on blood.

I was across the room, flinging Carlisle out of the way, only vaguely noting that he was trying to calm me. I grasped the door handle and tried to wrench the door open. Instead, it came off in my hand, and the leaded handle cracked and crumbled in my fist. This time I reached for the door itself, and pulled it off its hinges as if it were made of tissue paper. I leapt into the misty Chicago night.

Each raindrop sparkled in shades of blue and gray and silver and other colors that I’d never seen before. The city gleamed before me. The stars radiated light, more numerous and brighter than ever before. The darkness made no difference to my eyes; everything was more vibrant than I had ever seen it on the brightest of summer days.

And then a carriage came down the road and everything coalesced into one certainty. My understanding of who I was and what I was made for was instantaneous. My strength, my speed, my sight and the precision with which I could calculate when that carriage and driver would reach me, my scent and the need for my teeth on that man’s throat. I launched myself at the carriage, leaping, running, my upper lip curling, something dripping from my teeth, and then making a final jump…

And I was on the ground, underneath something heavy and hard, Carlisle’s scent surrounding me.

“No. You don’t want to do that,” Carlisle commanded, his mouth next to my ear.

I couldn’t make words come to my lips. Instead I surprised myself with a series of growls and grunts as I tried to shake the man.

“He is a human. His life has value. Like yours did.” Each word was clear and calm, despite the effort Carlisle was exerting to keep me pinned to the ground.

Like yours did. DID.

I stopped. Who was I? What was I?

Edward Anthony Masen. I was…

Carlisle’s words came to me through a haze. I was a vampire. I would thirst for human blood. Human blood. My throat was on fire, flames lapped from the inside. I was clawing at my throat without realizing it.

While Carlisle struggled to hold me to the ground, he spoke through my mind again. There was another way. I could exist with a conscience. He thought I was strong enough to do this. He’d seen something in me, and he’d honored my mother’s wishes and had saved me from death the only way he could.

My mother. My mother.

“Where is my mother?”

Those were the first words I spoke as a vampire. My voice rang from my mouth, each syllable like a church bell, low and melodious. More refined, perhaps, like the bass notes on a piano.

“I’m sorry son, she’s gone,” Carlisle murmured, regret tingeing each syllable.

“Gone?”

“She didn’t survive her illness, son. But you should know that her last thoughts were of you. How much she loved you. She asked me to save you, and this is the only way I knew how.”

“Gone?” And suddenly, I understood that I was alone. But what he said resounded in my head. My mother asked for this, for me to be saved from death. My mother. My mother. This was her wish.

My wild eyes were pinned on the receding vision of the carriage and its driver, my hands clawed the ground to try to free myself from Carlisle’s grip, and my feet were ready to run after him. But my mind worked through the raging haze of bloodlust. My mother wanted this for me. But she certainly hadn’t wanted me to be a murderer, not an animal. There was another way, a way to live with a conscience, even if I was undead.

“Doctor, tell me how else to live, before I tear out my own throat.”

*****

“Edward, what is it?” Esme’s concerned voice brought me back to the present.

I shook my head, pushing out the past, concentrating on the matter at hand. I’d arrived at the construction site, and Esme had pulled me off to the side, seeing that I was obviously flustered.

“It’s Rosalie. She’s brought an injured man to the clinic. He’ll die, and she wants him turned. Carlisle sent me for you.”

Esme’s hand was immediately over her mouth, her eyes bright as a myriad of emotions swam across their surface. “She wants a man turned?”

“Yes, Esme. There’s not much time.”

As we ran back to the clinic, I quickly replayed the unlikely scene that had transpired in the clinic, leaving out no detail. Her eyes glittered first with shock, and then I saw them change. Suddenly, Esme’s eyes were lit with hope.

“And you said that she loves him?” Esme asked, clutching my hand.

“Maybe. What do I know of love, Esme?”

Esme gently touched my cheek. “More than you think, Edward.”

By that time we were back at the clinic, and Esme dashed ahead of me and ran to Rosalie, throwing her arms around the girl. “You have to tell me everything!”

“Oh, Esme, I can’t. There’s no time. He’s dying.”

“Not for long, dear.” Esme turned to Carlisle. “It’s not too late, is it?”

Both of Carlisle’s hands were inside the man, moving rhythmically, at the pace of a human heart. Esme took one look at the man, and her hands flew over her nose as if she’d just become aware that a bloody man lay before her. But I saw the look Carlisle and Esme exchanged, and I knew in my heart that it was done. Both of them turned to me.

“Edward, this concerns us all.”

I looked at Rose, clutching the man’s hand, her face pressed into his open, bloody chest. I could hear the weak sputtering of the man’s heart, as Carlisle pushed blood through it, one pulse at a time.

“Will is still work, Carlisle?” I asked.

“The blood needs to circulate, and this man’s heart may not beat on its own anymore. We may have to do it for him, until the venom takes over.”

Rosalie heard the tenor of the conversation, and her eyes glowed with hope. “Will you, Carlisle? Please.”

“Edward, Esme, you know what this would mean.”

Esme took one look at Rosalie. “You love him, Rose?”

Rosalie just nodded her head, unwilling to confess her feelings out loud. But I heard them. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Yes, Carlisle,” Esme replied. “We’ll handle it. We always do.”

“Edward?” Carlisle asked me.

I took one look at Rosalie’s eyes, wild, worried, desperate, and sighed. “Of course,” I agreed. Rosalie smiled for the first time since she’d come back.

“Does that mean you’ll do this for me, Carlisle? Please. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of him. I’ll watch him. Let him be my responsibility, not yours. I’ll take him away if I have to. Anything. Please.”

“I don’t often go back on my word, Rosalie. I’m not making this decision lightly. But with the support of my family, I’ll do this for you.

Rose clutched the man’s lifeless hands. “You see, I told you. I told you I would save you. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I told you. I told you.”

Carlisle looked up at me, grim but determined. “Edward, I need you to take his heart.”

“What?” I managed.

“We have to keep the blood moving. I can’t provide the needed… incisions while I massage the heart.”

My eyes went wide with horror, my mouth was full of venom, and I felt it trickle out of the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand while I took a step backwards.

“Rosalie, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I can’t touch him. I can hardly stand here.” My words were garbled because of the fluid washing over my teeth, coursing into my mouth. I took another step backwards. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. “I’m so sorry, Rosalie.”

Rosalie glared at me, before turning to Carlisle. “Show me how Carlisle. I can do this. I have to. We have to. I won’t be able to go on if we don’t.” I’d never imagined she could be so strong, so unselfish.

Esme was by my side, holding my hand, looking around her at the clinic, taking deep breaths. I knew we were leaving. Leaving behind everything that they had worked so hard for. “When are we going, Carlisle?”

“We’ll have to wait for the venom to knit his tissues before he can be moved. A day, perhaps.”

“Edward, let’s pack. Rosalie will assist Carlisle.” Esme tugged at my arm, and I understood she was trying to ease my thirst, to make this easier on me. I looked back at Carlisle, helping Rosalie as she placed her hands over his inside of the man. I hoped this was all worth it.
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The Newborn	By : belladonnacullen Category: Twilight Series > Het Views: 3452 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.

The Newborn