#I'm not sure why smeyer decided to locate vampire 'hunger' in the throat rather than the stomach but sure I'll roll with it

[marypsue]

Duskfall 1 / 2

Part Two || on AO3

...

I’d never given much thought to how I would die.

If I had, though, this wouldn’t have been my first choice. In fact, it probably wouldn’t have even made the top ten.

It wasn’t until the van began to slide towards me that I realised I’d always had some vague, romantic notion of dying in a way that meant something - perhaps in the place of someone I loved. There wasn’t enough time to resign myself to the reality - that I was about to die alone, too young, before I’d really had a chance to have a life. 

In my last, helpless seconds, I found myself dwelling not on how my death would devastate my poor mother, or on how my father would no doubt blame himself. All I could think was that this wouldn’t be happening if I’d never come to Forks at all.

The van’s brakes squealed uselessly as it filled my vision.

...

In the state of Washington, on the tip of the Olympic Peninsula, there is a small logging town named Forks. This town is unremarkable in every way, except for one. Forks, Washington receives more rainfall, on average, than any other place in the continental United States. This small town is nearly permanently overcast, smothered under a constant blanket of grey cloud. 

It was Forks from which my mother, seventeen years ago, had escaped with me in tow, leaving my father behind. And it was to Forks that I had now exiled myself.

I had come from Phoenix, Arizona, a city so different from Forks in every way that it might as well have been on another planet. I hadn’t wanted to leave. The year I’d turned fourteen, I’d put my foot down and refused to spend any more summers in Forks with my father, Charlie, and I hadn’t been back since. Forks was a cold, wet, dim, green purgatory from which I felt lucky to have escaped. Despite my sickly pallor and general aversion to all things athletic, sunny, sporty Phoenix was where I belonged.

And yet, it was Forks where I was now dying.

I had no one to blame but myself, of course. I’d chosen to move to Forks, rather than play the third wheel to my mother and her new boyfriend as they travelled across the country for his baseball training camps. Renee had protested, but I knew they’d both be happier without me tagging along. And Charlie had been more than glad to have me stay with him. He’d never been one to cling, but he’d hung around like a lost puppy at first, until I’d convinced him that I wasn’t going to evaporate in the middle of the night. 

And I’d chosen to start at Forks High School in mid-March, rather than waiting until the start of the next semester. I’d thought that the social consequences would be worth not shooting myself in the foot academically. 

I shouldn’t have been worried about my grades - my high school in Phoenix was at least a grade ahead of Forks’. I should have been more worried about my peers.

More specifically, I should have been more worried about a bunch of seventeen-year-olds driving on sheer ice during the one freak snowstorm Forks had seen all winter. The snow had been worse than the rain - cold, in addition to wet - but at least it had broken up the monotony. For the span of a few minutes, I’d even foolishly allowed myself to be charmed by the sight of huge, feathery clumps of snow drifting slowly from the (as always, overcast) sky. 

That had turned out to be my last mistake.

I hadn’t seen the van pulling into the parking lot. I hadn’t seen its driver try to stop, hadn’t seen it start to slide on the ice. I hadn’t noticed it until it was too late to move.

Later, Dr. Cullen would explain that I’d been pinned between the van and the bed of my ancient truck, a ‘welcome-home’ gift from Charlie that had been the one bright spot in my exile. The crash had shattered my pelvis and severed my spine in two places. If I’d lived, I never would have walked again.

I didn’t know that, of course. I was a little preoccupied with being unconscious. 

“They’re going to notice.”

The voice was what drew me from the stupor I had been drifting in, watching the ceiling swim overhead and quietly contemplating my own imminent death. I had been wondering, I realised, how long I had been dying for. How much longer it would take. 

The voice spoke again, tugging me a little closer to the surface of consciousness, and for the first time I felt a twinge of pain from somewhere in my abdomen, around my waist. I tried to raise my head, to see what the damage was, but a kind of sleepy heaviness overwhelmed me. I focused, instead, on the voice. Words were still too difficult to pin down, but I thought I recognised the cadence, the pitch. However, my mind, full of fog as it was, couldn’t quite seem to close the gap between the voice and who it belonged to.

“This isn’t the nineteenth century, Carlisle. Someone will ask questions when she’s declared dead and no one can find her body.”

Somewhere in the room beyond my vision of pale, greenish ceiling, something was beeping incessantly. I wished that someone would shut it up, but I couldn’t seem to form the words to ask. Just drawing breath to try took a monumental effort.

Another voice, this one radiating calm and composure, entered the conversation. “Unless she receives three major organ transplants within the next hour, she is as good as dead. And you know as well as I the chances of that happening.”

I wished that the strange heaviness that made it impossible to move would at least let me breathe a frustrated sigh. At least now I had a timeline for how long I could expect this dying thing to take.

The first voice spoke again, and this time a terrifying coldness came over it, sending chills down my back even through the warm and dreamy haze that had settled over me. “Then perhaps we shouldn’t interfere.”

“Edward,” the second voice said, sternly, and my sluggish brain finally gave a jolt of comprehension. Edward. Of course. I recognised the voice from my very first biology class. Edward Cullen, the boy who’d been so repulsed by my existence that he’d fled the entire school and never come back.

I tried to summon a groan of exasperation. Really, it was just my luck.

“You can’t save them all, Carlisle.”

“My boy, I know that better than anyone.” I was pretty sure I wasn’t imagining a tinge of sorrow in the second voice, the one belonging to ‘Carlisle’. “But don’t I owe it to her to at least try?”

“Don’t you owe it to her not to condemn her to an eternity of suffering just so that you and Esme can pair me off?” Edward snapped, and I felt a wave of heat beginning, slowly, to rise up my chest towards my face. The sudden, overwhelming feeling that I shouldn’t be hearing this conversation overtook me, but I couldn’t seem to get my arms to work to come up and cover my ears. “Remember Rosalie? Don’t put us all through that again.”

“Your concerns are noted,” ‘Carlisle’ said lightly. “But I do consider more than your romantic prospects in these cases, you know. She’s still so young, she has so much more life ahead of her - to let her die like this would not only be cruelty, it would be an injustice. Besides, wasn’t she your -”

It was about then that I was distracted by a throb of pounding pain from my abdomen. Suddenly, my voice decided to work. I managed a decent yelp, and the two voices shut up instantly.

“She’s awake - you didn’t tell me she’d be awake.”

“She’s not supposed to be.”

Something cold flooded through the back of my hand, spreading quickly up my arm, and the ceiling began to swim again, the pain slowly dissolving along with the rest of my body. As my vision started to dim, I saw a beautiful face - the kind of face Botticelli might have dreamed of, the kind of face that would have made Michaelangelo weep - lean into my line of sight, and smile.

Then a tidal wave of sleep dragged me under.

...

When I woke up, I was on fire.

There were no words to describe the pain, even if I'd been able to speak them. It would have been like trying to describe a sunset to a person who's been blind all their life. No matter what I said, it would never quite measure up to the real thing.

When the burning finally faded enough that I could focus on anything other than how much I hurt, the ceiling had changed. Rather than the pale, antiseptic hospital green I’d seen before, this was a pleasant shade of warm white, welcoming and soft. 

It took a moment for me to make sure all my limbs were where I remembered them being. 

When I finally managed to sit up, I discovered that the large, elegantly furnished room I'd found myself in was occupied. I vaguely recognised some of the alabaster faces gathered around my bedside, but in this strange setting, I couldn't place where I knew them from. Most of them - three girls, three boys - appeared young, not much older than me, but there was something in the way all of them held themselves, something in their beautiful amber eyes, that made them all seem much, much older. The thought whispered through my head that, apart from their clothing, none of them would have seemed particularly out of place in a sepia photograph.

“What happened?” I managed to ask, shuddering at the rasp of my own voice. My throat ached, stung, like I’d swallowed an entire bottle of hot sauce and chased it with sand. 

The apparent oldest of the boys, the one all the others seemed to turn towards without even realising they were doing so, pushed himself up from the armchair he'd settled into and approached my sickbed. He flashed me a dazzling smile, his sparkling white teeth only the palest shade lighter than his marble-fine skin. I had to stuff down the urge to reach out and run my hand along his forearm where the rolled-back sleeve of his button-down shirt exposed it, to see if it was really as smooth and unblemished as it looked. 

Now that I was looking, I realised that all of them had the same colouration, as though they'd never seen sunlight, and the same tawny, almost golden eyes. And, of course, they were all breathtakingly beautiful. Despite their apparent physical differences, they almost looked like they were all related.

It finally occurred to me where I'd seen them - at least, most of them - before. I'd been struck, before, by how beautiful, how otherworldly, the Cullen siblings - foster-siblings, but no one would know it to look at them - appeared against the drab, mundane background of the cafeteria of Forks High School. Even without anything so ordinary as a high school cafeteria to contrast against, I still found myself fascinated, by the play of light on Rosalie Hale's cascade of golden hair, by the swanlike arch of Alice's slender throat, by the sculpted angles of Jasper Hale's marble face.

Edward, I noticed, was conspicuously absent.

The one woman I didn't recognise, I decided, must be the siblings' foster mother, Esme. Which meant that the man who'd approached me had to be Dr. Cullen. Neither of them, strangely, looked much older than their charges.

In fact, everything about this was strange. Where was I? Why was I here? Was the conversation I'd overheard between Dr. Cullen and Edward - could it possibly have been real? How else could I have come to be here? A multitude of questions rushed forward to the front of my mind, but they all crashed up against each other before they could make it to my tongue.

I couldn't, I realised, hear my own heartbeat.

Despite the burning rasp in my throat, I managed to choke out, "Am I dead?"

Dr. Cullen's brilliant smile looked almost apologetic as he said, "The answer to that is somewhere between yes and no."

...

In the end, the Denali agreed to come to us. I couldn't stay in Forks, not with everyone believing I was dead, and even with seven of them, the Cullens still didn't want to risk traveling up the coast alone with a newborn vampire.

A newborn vampire. The most powerful, bloodthirsty, dangerous being in existence.

Me.

It didn't quite seem real, and the endless, oppressive green dark of Forks didn't help me feel any more grounded. It also didn't help that my new eyes could see a thousand different shades of green, the constant monotone gloom of Washington State transforming into a rainbow of light and shadow before my eyes. Forks had always seemed a little otherworldly, a little unreal, but now it was practically bursting with colour and scent and sound and light - an impossible fairyland. I couldn’t imagine seeing the whole world this way. 

It was almost unfathomable to think that I didn’t need to imagine it. That I would experience it, firsthand, soon enough.

“Don’t worry,” Alice said, sweetly, reaching up to rest a hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be fine.” 

“Because you...saw it.”

Alice winked, and tapped a finger lightly against her temple. That was another thing I was going to have to get used to. Superpowers. 

“And don’t worry about Edward. He’s only avoiding you because -”

Just like that, any hopefulness I might have felt about the whole situation evaporated into the chilly grey pre-dawn air. “Thank you, for the reminder that I’m literally so repulsive that the sight of me drove your, uh, brother away for good.”

Alice let out a little huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “It’s got nothing to do with you. He and Carlisle just need to bare their teeth at each other for a while, get it out of their systems.” Her smile turned knowing as she added, “My ‘uh, brother’ finds you anything but repulsive. Trust me.”

I was beginning to learn that a knowing smile from Alice was far worse than a knowing smile from anyone else.

It took a moment for me to find my voice again. “Oh. Great. Because this was all just going too well already.”

Alice’s laughter was bright as delicate silver bells. She patted my shoulder, once, before reaching up to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry, we’ll be right there beside you all the way to Alaska. Have fun, make new friends!” she trilled, before pirouetting away.

She didn’t mention that the only reason she and the Cullens would be beside me was because they would be flanking the truck - according to the plan they’d put together over the phone the night before, two driving ahead, two following, and the other three on foot - in case I went berserk on the highway somewhere. I could understand why. The burning in the back of my throat was incessant and insistent, barely calmed at all by the entire doe Emmett had dragged back for me after Carlisle had decided there was too much risk of me meeting hikers in the woods to go - hunting - myself. In a strange way, I found it reassuring. Maybe I hadn’t asked for this new life, but now that I had it, I didn’t really want to start it out by literally biting someone’s head off.

Still, there was no way I was going to make new friends. I approached the huge black mud-spattered pickup truck that pulled into the driveway of the glass-and-steel phantasmagoria that served the Cullens for a house feeling pretty much the same as I imagined someone would walking up to the executioner’s block. So, about the way I’d felt on my first day of school.

This was different, though. At least facing down Forks High School on that first morning, I’d known that, six hours later, I’d be heading back home, to a quiet dinner with Charlie, who probably wouldn’t ask any awkward questions I didn’t want to answer. That I’d call Renee, my mom, that night, endure her prying about whether I met any cute boys, find out how she and Phil were liking Florida, just talk. That I’d be able to go out on the weekend and maybe talk cars with Jacob Black. That, even if I was alone in a sea of new faces, even if everything went terribly and everyone hated me, I still had somewhere to go back to. Still had someone on my side.

Staring at the impossibly beautiful strangers piling out of the truck to take me away to my new life, I realised I’d never been so entirely alone.