Even now, as I found myself present in this absurd reality—the very same one portended by Alice’s earlier visions—I struggled to believe that it was all truly happening.

I’d spent almost the entirety of the afternoon laying in the meadow, my chest and arms exposed, bathing in the warmth I felt as the bright sun bounced off of my skin, sending a million rainbow sparkles glittering across the clearing.  The exposure didn’t feel strange or alien; on the contrary, I’d never felt so comfortable in my whole existence.  To be like this—completely at ease, relaxed even—in the sunshine seemed to warm me from the inside as well, if that were possible.

Of course, these sensations of warmth paled in comparison to the heat I felt rolling off of Bella’s body as she crouched in the grass next to me.

She never ceased to amaze me; even when I stepped into the sunlight and she first witnessed the effect the sun had on my bare skin, she hadn’t run screaming as I’d half expected.  Of course not, I thought to myself.  Of course she would do the opposite of what I expected.  I should be used to that by now.  And even though she’d nearly buckled at the knees with shock, she’d somehow managed to remain upright exactly where she stood, eyes fixated on me, jaw slightly agape with awe.

Or terror.  I still wasn’t completely convinced that the shock wouldn’t overcome her at any moment and send her fleeing from me, the realization of exactly what I was being too much for her to take in.

But she’d simply asked me to move closer, to let her see me more clearly.  So I’d lain down in the center of the meadow, avoiding any thoughts of her impending panic by letting the lullaby she’d inspired run through my head over and over.  I sang it softly to myself—this calming, wordless mantra—until she finally asked what it was that had my lips moving ever so slightly.  “Just singing to myself,” I’d replied, neglecting to tell her the important details.

I stayed like this, lost in my melodic tribute to her, until I felt a single burning finger gently stroke the back of my left hand.  The touch sent a scorching electric current through my body that stirred… different sensations, strange and powerful ones, inside of me.  I opened my eyes and watched her intently as she slowly slid the pad of her finger back and forth over the stony texture of my hand, engrossed by the fact that she didn’t find my skin repellant.

Her eyes met mine at last and I couldn’t help but smile.  “I don’t scare you?”  I tried to keep my voice light and hide the genuine inquisitiveness that burned inside of me.

“No more than usual.”

Her answer was so calm, so nonchalant.  Not even a hint of indecisiveness.  Danger magnet, I thought to myself.  I smiled again, closing my eyes and reveling in the idea that she might actually derive some small pleasure from my touch.

Her hand stretched a little as she used more of her fingertips to blaze a burning trail along my forearm.  Her fingers trembled slightly as she did so, and I couldn’t help the nagging thoughts from intruding into my mind now; my touch couldn’t be that pleasing.  Was she repulsed?  Was she nervous?  If so, was it because she was really beginning to grasp what kind of monster she’d been cavorting with this entire time?  Or did her increased breathing and heightened pulse convey a deeper attraction that I still hoped she felt for me?  I couldn’t be sure…

Meanwhile, her hand still hadn’t left the skin of my arm.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

Was she serious?  “No.  You can’t imagine how that feels.”  I sighed heavily and breathed in her scent as it mixed with the sunshine and forest that surrounded us.

Burning.

Aching.

Beautiful.

Her other hand reached forward to spin my own palm-up, and I complied immediately.  Her hands froze for a second, and it took me the length a single human heartbeat to realize why; I’d unintentionally moved it in one of my own natural and instantaneous movements, and startled her in the process.  Great job.  Real smooth.

“Sorry,” I whispered in apology.  “It’s too easy to be myself with you.”  Dangerously easy.  I swallowed the venom that continued to well in my mouth.

She didn’t reply.  Instead, she simply grasped my hand and pulled it closer, examining the surface intently.  Time seemed to stand still.  I bored into her eyes—soft, chocolate brown, and brimming with curiosity—with my own and tried to decipher her thoughts once more.

A fruitless endeavor, of course.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I pleaded softly.  Her eyes met mine and held my gaze.  “It’s still so strange for me, not knowing.”

“You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time,” she responded playfully.

“It’s a hard life.”  I felt my emotions unintentionally color my response with the lament that warred against the joy inside of me.  “But you didn’t tell me.”

She exhaled hard.  “I was wishing I could know what you were thinking …” She paused for a period of time that made the word “eternity” seem ineffective.

“And?”

“I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I wasn't afraid.”

In an instant, my joy and pleasure were quashed by unrelenting sadness and regret.

She was afraid of me.

Hearing her admit it made me ashamed again of the danger that I was placing her in; selfish, unnecessary danger that I couldn’t help but bring upon her with my very presence, my inability to control my desire to be with her.  How had I allowed this to happen?  I wanted to beg her, beseech her to forgive me for this transgression.

All my grief allowed me to choke out was, “I don’t want you to be afraid.”  It was barely a whisper.

“Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to think about.”  Again, her answer surprised me.  What else could she mean if not fear for her life!?

I studied her intently as I sat up slightly and brought myself closer to her, forgetting entirely to move at a non-threatening, human speed.  Her scent was forceful and severe, washing over me as she exhaled fire in my direction.  I couldn’t allow myself to focus on that now, though—I needed answers.

“What are you afraid of, then?” I asked as I continued to stare at her.

Her eyes unfocused slightly and she didn’t respond.  Instead, as if to torment me further, she began to lean in, to close the few inches that separated our faces.

For the shortest fraction of a second, I felt the venom spill fresh in to my mouth and my muscles tense to strike.  An instinctive reaction, to be sure—having her throat this close, and her willingly moving closer, was too much to bear.

No! NO! NO!  I screamed a steady torrent of condemnations in my mind as my body involuntarily prepared for the attack.  I wouldn’t allow this though—I could not allow this.  While I still had the capacity for rational thought, I flitted as fast as I could to the darker, shaded of the meadow; my eyes never left Bella, who was still leaning inward and unaware of my disappearance.

When she finally found my gaze, I registered the shock and pain on her face—it was apparent that she was hurt by my sudden departure.  She couldn’t understand, though, how close she had just come… How close I had been to…

“I'm… sorry… Edward,” she murmured.  For a second, I thought she might cry.

I tried hard to calm myself as quickly as possible.  “Give me a moment,” I called back in reply.  The flow of venom eventually subsided, and my muscles finally stopped flexing to strike.  When I was absolutely sure I had control, I approached her slowly and sat down in front of her, being sure to keep my distance.  Even here, her scent scorched my throat, fanning the firestorm in my mouth.

I breathed in again, deeply, as if to test myself.  Focus.  I put on the best smile I could, and finally spoke.

“I am so very sorry.”  For more than you could possibly know.  For threatening you so continually.  For endangering you with my very existence.  “Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?”

As she slowly nodded, I couldn’t help but smell the fresh sweat that had begun to bead her neck and the adrenaline that now pulsed through her veins.  I should have known better than to mistrust my instincts.

She was afraid.

In all my decades of exposure to humans, I knew that nothing betrayed their fear quicker than the flow of adrenaline through the bloodstream—I could smell it before their brain could even register its presence.  I felt my smile distort with disgust and fury.

“I'm the world's best predator, aren't I?”  The question was rhetorical, my voice acerbic as my mind ran quickly over all of the reasons why Bella should run from me; the same reasons why I knew she, or any other human, could never resist our kind.  “Everything about me invites you in—my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!”

The rage was flowing freely now.  I felt my legs carrying me, up and away from where Bella sat in the middle of the meadow, back to the shadows.  Without pausing, I threw my arms back and circled the large meadow in a full sprint.  There was venom in my mouth, but it wasn’t the predator inside that drove me now; it was the seething, blackened hatred I felt for that predator which I could never separate from myself.  I finished my circuit in less than half a second and stopped directly in Bella’s line of sight, her eyes still scrambling to focus on my location.  I laughed despite myself at her attempts to keep up, but the sound was harsh and caustic.

“As if you could outrun me.”

What was I saying?  What was I doing!?  The hatred continued to flow, and I found myself wishing for an outlet for this sudden odium.  I reached for one of the thick branches in the fir tree next to me and, gripping it with one hand, easily snapped the large limb from the trunk of the tree with a loud, splintery crack.  I held the limb in my hand for a moment, allowing the disgust I felt to fuel my strength before I hurled it as hard as I could manage into another large spruce.  The impact was deafening as the limb shattered into a million tiny wood fragments, leaving the spruce to sway heavily back and forth in its wake.

But I hadn’t waited for the collision—by the time Bella’s wide, frightened eyes looked away from the mangled vegetation, I was already standing in front of her.

“As if you could fight me off,” I continued, softer this time.

I caught my reflection in the chocolate depths of her eyes, and immediately realized that in the past few seconds I’d completely undone whatever trust she had in the gentle façade I’d previously presented to her.

If she didn’t think I was a monster before, she knew I was now.

I felt the anger slowly subside in me, giving way to shame and sadness.  How could I make up for that awful display?  How could I earn her trust again?  I thought back to the first night I spent in her room, my decision to do the right thing for her, my obligation.  I had to try.

“Don’t be afraid,” I begged as softly as was audible for her ears.  I heard myself voice my private oath aloud.  “I promise…”  No, that wasn’t enough.  “I swear not to hurt you.”

I would make good on that pledge above all others.

I stepped closer, slowly, even for a human.  “Don’t be afraid,” I repeated, and I lithely sat down in front of her with still-exaggerated movements.  When our faces were at the same height, I steadied my voice and continued.  “Please forgive me.  I can control myself.  You caught me off guard.  But I'm on my best behavior now.”

She was still in shock—her eyes wide, pulse pounding, breathing haggard and uneven.  I tried using some humor to diffuse the situation.

“I’m not thirsty today, honestly,” I said with a smile and a gentle wink.

It worked.  She laughed, and even though the sound was hollow, I knew it was genuine.

“Are you all right?” I asked.  I wanted so badly for her to forget what she’d just seen, to rewind to her memory.  I reached my hand forward slowly, cautiously letting her know that I desired her touch again, and placed it in her palms.  She eyed me warily, no doubt trying to gauge my level of control, and then simply looked down at my hand in hers and continued tracing the lines in my palm.  Would it be that easy?  Would she simply forgive my outburst and return to the way things had been just a short while ago?  The answering smile on her face when she looked into my eyes again nearly made my still heart leap from my chest.  I couldn’t help but smile widely in return.

Will wonders never cease?

“So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?” I asked, thankful for having found an end to the tension.

“I honestly can’t remember.”

My smile held, but my happiness waned a little.  Of course.  Who wouldn’t have trouble remembering their thoughts after witnessing an exhibit like that?  “I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason.”

The light bulb in her eyes flickered on.  “Oh, right.”

“Well?”

She didn’t respond, of course.  She simply looked down again, seemingly enamored with the texture of my icy, pale skin as her fingers continued to burn small trails along the creases in my stony hand.  Would she ever answer?  Did she know how her silence tormented me?  How my inability to hear her thoughts made me hang on her every movement, breath, and heartbeat with acute, almost painful anticipation?

“How easily frustrated I am,” I finally sighed.  When she looked up into my eyes, I could have sworn I saw an almost microscopic change in her demeanor.  Was she… smiling?

“I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with you. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should.”  She blushed and looked down, clearly embarrassed by her confession.  And though I wanted to do somersaults at this seemingly tiny admission, I couldn’t help but feel saddened by harsh reality that surrounded it.

“Yes, that is something to be afraid of, indeed.  Wanting to be with me.  That's really not in your best interest.”  Could I do it?  Was I strong enough to leave her now that I knew the power she held over me?  My dilemma forced its way through my lips.  “I should have left long ago.  I should leave now.  But I don't know if I can.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered, her eyes still locked on our hands.

“Which is exactly why I should.  But don't worry.  I'm essentially a selfish creature.  I crave your company too much to do what I should.”  This wasn’t even half of the truth.

“I’m glad.”

How could she say that!?  How could she, after witnessing everything I’d done today, still desire my company this much?  “Don’t be!” I said as I removed my hand, my voice sounding harsher than I’d intended.

I needed to make her see.  Once and for all, I needed her to understand the danger.

“It's not only your company I crave!  Never forget that.  Never forget I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else.”  It was like a knife through my heart to say these words.  Oh, how I yearned to be human—to be soft and warm and safe for her, free from the fire I ignored in my throat that persisted seemingly without end.  I looked away, into the forest, for some kind of distraction from the thirst.  Bella’s scent was all there was for me, though.

It was my whole world.

“I don't think I understand exactly what you mean—by that last part anyway,” she said.

Her question brought me back to the moment, and I couldn’t help but smile into her eyes.  If ever I needed a distraction from Bella’s scent, leave it to Bella herself to continually provide it.  But the question…

“How do I explain?” I wondered aloud.  More importantly: “And without frightening you again… Hmmmm.”  As I pondered the question, I placed my hand back into hers, and was momentarily distracted when she held it tightly, as if she wasn’t willing to let it go again.  The heat of her hands coursed like another electric current through my body, and this time I had trouble keeping my thoughts together entirely.

“That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth.” I sighed.  I closed my eyes and tried to focus on how I should word my answer.  How do you tell someone that their blood is the most attractive thing you’ve ever been exposed to?  Even for a vampire, it sounded slightly macabre in my current situation.  But, then again, maybe honesty would continue to be the best policy…

I would keep things simple.  “You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?  Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?”  She nodded in understanding.  “Sorry about the food analogy—I couldn’t think of another way to explain.”

She didn’t say anything, but only smiled.  I smiled back as lightly as I could.

Here we go.

“You see, every person smells different, has a different essence.  If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it.  But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic.  Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac—and filled the room with its warm aroma—how do you think he would fare then?”

I probed her eyes intently for some sign of understanding, but instead of delivering answers, they simply probed back.  I wasn’t being clear enough.

“Maybe that's not the right comparison.  Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy.  Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead,” I said darkly.

Again, the light bulb.  “So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?” she asked playfully.

How quickly she grasped it!  I smiled despite myself, marveling at the swiftness of her intellect.  Truly, nothing escaped her.

“Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin,” I replied.

“Does that happen often?”

I paused, remembering my previous discussion with Emmett and Jasper.  “I spoke to my brothers about it.  To Jasper, every one of you is much the same.  He's the most recent to join our family.  It's a struggle for him to abstain at all.  He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor.”  I almost winced at my unintentional use of the same food analogy, looking to Bella quickly.  “Sorry.”

“I don't mind.  Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever.  That's the way you think.  I can understand, or I can try to at least.  Just explain however you can.”

Definitely not the normal reaction for a human, but I was having a hard time imagining her any other way now.  I steadied my thoughts and again breathed in her scent.

As if my perfect vampire mind had forgotten it.

“So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as”—what was the right word?—“appealing as you are to me.  Which makes me think not.  Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant.  He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other.”

“And for you?”

Again, I thought back to that first night in her room, her fragrance swimming around me on everything she had touched; enveloping me, engulfing me.  The answer was obvious.

“Never.”

“What did Emmett do?” she asked after a moment.

My perfect vampire mind betrayed me this time as Emmett’s memories rushed into my thoughts.  I could feel my body tensing, my expression twisting as I recalled what I’d tried to shut out earlier—the woman hanging her sheets on the clothes line, the apple trees along the road where Emmett walked, and his instantaneous reaction to her scent…

Bella broke the silence.  “I guess I know.”

But I wasn’t Emmett.  I had already outlasted his pathetic excuse for self control and, even now, was convinced that I would never harm Bella in that way.  I had to make her understand that we weren’t all the same; that I was different, more trustworthy.  I looked at her finally, hoping she could see the desperation in my eyes.

“Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?”

Her expression changed swiftly, her brow furrowing and her mouth opening with a slight gasp as she cried, “What are you asking?  My permission?”  But she recovered quickly, softening her tone before speaking again.  “I mean, is there no hope, then?”

Bad choice of words.  “No, no!  Of course there's hope!  I mean, of course I won't…”  I could never, not with you.  “It's different for us.  Emmett… these were strangers he happened across.  It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as… practiced, as careful, as he is now.”  I let my eyes do my pleading once more, trying desperately to convey the sincerity, the earnestness with which I cared for her.

“So if we’d met… oh, in a dark alley or something…”

Her words shoved the memory of that first day violently into the forefront of my thoughts—her smell as it wafted across the classroom, the monster inside that screamed to attack…  “It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and—” I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memory.  “When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there.  If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself.”  Don’t lie, I thought.  It wasn’t until later, in the safety of my car, away from her aroma, that I’d convinced myself not to follow her home and make good on my murderous plans.  I looked back at her, desperate for a distraction.  “You must have thought I was possessed.”

“I couldn’t understand why.  How you could hate me so quickly…”

It hurt more than I wanted to admit to divulge this information to her.  Of course, she’d ferreted out most of my secrets on her own—my changing eye color, my mental capabilities, and even, most importantly, the truth about what I and my family were.  But all of this had come after, when I was able to control my reactions.

That first day was the blackest and most shameful of my memories that included Bella Swan, and I had hoped that she would never have a chance to know this part of me.

But I could not lie to her now.

“To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me.  The fragrance coming off your skin…I thought it would make me deranged that first day.  In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone.  And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them.  I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow…”

I ran over them once more in my mind.  Hello, my name is Edward Cullen.  May I walk you to your next class?  I was quite sure now what her reaction would have been.

“You would have come.”

Her answer was deadpan.  “Without a doubt.”

I looked away, ashamed at this admission of my monstrosity.  “And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, you were there—in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening.  I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there—” I swiped my free hand through the air casually, as if swatting a fly “—so easily dealt with."

I could feel her shuddering, her pulse quickening slightly.  I didn’t want to frighten her anymore than I had to.  Or already had.

“But I resisted.  I don't know how.  I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from the school.  It was easier outside, when I couldn't smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision.  I left the others near home—I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong—and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving.

“I traded cars with him—he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to stop.  I didn't dare to go home, to face Esme.”  I knew all too well what my mother’s reaction would’ve been.  “She wouldn't have let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn't necessary…”

But I also knew that then, that afternoon, I had been truly helpless.  There was no way I could’ve stayed in Forks and not shattered everything that I and my family held dear.  I’d run from my problems just like a child covering his eyes during a horror movie.  “By the next morning I was in Alaska.  I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances…”  I almost laughed at the memory of Tanya throwing her arms around me in delight, her mind berating me with an endless torrent of unrequited adoration.  “But I was homesick.  I hated knowing I'd upset Esme, and the rest of them, my adopted family.  In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible.  I convinced myself it was weak to run away.  I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong.  Who were you, an insignificant little girl—” My, how the tables have turned, I thought to myself, “—to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back…

“I took precautions; hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again.  I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other human.  I was arrogant about it.  It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me.  I wasn't used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica's mind…”  I remembered the incessant blabbering that would pour from her thoughts as I tried to watch Bella from afar.  “Her mind isn't very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn't know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating."

It was still extremely irritating.  Even now, I would’ve gladly given up my power to hear the thoughts and secrets of others if it meant that for the rest of eternity I could discern only Bella’s.

"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person.  I was eager actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts.  But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions… and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again…

“Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes.  Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment—because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are.”  In fact I was sure that if she had been injured, if she’d been bleeding, I would’ve immediately found myself in the darkest of Alice’s visions—my own eyes crimson, and Bella’s body still, drained, and deathly pale at my side.

My stomach turned, and I closed my eyes against the nightmarish image.  “But I only thought of that excuse later.  At the time, all I could think was, ‘Not her.’”

And then, for the first time in several minutes, Bella spoke.

“In the hospital?”  Her voice was a quiet murmur, but I was still shocked at how calm she seemed.  Hadn’t I just confessed to plotting, in countless horrible ways, her demise?  Why did she not run from me as she should?  And why, oh why, did she continue to imbue her voice with what sounded like… sympathy?

Sympathy for the Devil, I thought as I opened my eyes.

“I was appalled.  I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power—you of all people.  As if I needed another motive to kill you.”  I cringed at the word as it slipped out, and I felt her recoil too, but she recovered very quickly.  “But it had the opposite effect.  I fought with Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested that now was the time…”  I couldn’t say the words again.  “The worst fight we've ever had.  Carlisle sided with me, and Alice.”

Alice, I scowled.  My mind sounded her name as if it were a curse word.  Her and her damn visions.  I would’ve felt better if she weren’t always right.

“Esme told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay.  All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word.  I didn't understand you at all.  But I knew that I couldn't become more involved with you.  I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible.  And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair… it hit me as hard as the very first day.”

I remembered the days and weeks that passed after the accident with the van, during which I had callously allowed myself only once to even acknowledge Bella’s presence.  I remembered with brutal precision how every day, every minute after that was harder than the one before, how the pain from my detachment had only grown at a geometrically escalating rate.  I remembered how it held me captive with torment and curiosity and longing every time she spoke, or moved, or even breathed.

Above all else, I remembered the exact second that I realized—standing there in her room as her sleep, her scent turning my emotions and thoughts upside down on themselves—that I could not exist without loving Bella Swan.

“And for all that, I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here—with no witnesses and nothing to stop me—I were to hurt you.”  The words tore through me painfully as I spoke them.

She cocked her head slightly to one side, curiosity evident in her eyes.  “Why?”

So she was going to make me spell it out for her.  Why couldn’t her stunning intellect see to the core of my statement this time?  Why couldn’t she save me from what was sure to be the most awkward and embarrassing of my many admissions?

Why couldn’t she save me.  Who’s supposed to be protecting who, here?

“Isabella.”  Her name was like a sigh, a euphoric exultation wrapped in velvet as it rolled off of my tongue.  I thought it might give me goose bumps.  I reached up with my free hand, carefully running my fingers through her dark locks of hair as lightly as I could, trying hard to ignore the electric hum that resulted from her touch and concentrate on my words.

“Bella, I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you.  You don't know how it's tortured me.”  I looked down and thought again of Alice’s twin visions; a Bella with crimson eyes and pale skin like stone, and a Bella without life, her essence drained, eyes dark.  How similar, yet how shockingly different.  “The thought of you, still, white, cold… to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses… it would be unendurable.”

The words alone caused an agony I was sure no human could endure.  I raised my eyes to hers, staring deep and longingly into the face that had clouded my thoughts and visions incessantly since the day I’d first laid eyes on it.

“You are the most important thing to me now.  The most important thing to me ever.”