For three days, I burn. The pain’s so intense, I wish he had let me die.

Nothing. Nothing could possibly be worth going through this for.

At first, I cannot think. I only feel the scathing fire as it runs through my veins.

Claiming me.

Marking me.

Then, thought comes again. Slowly, images flicker behind my eyelids.




My brothers.

Little Henry.


Then, the voices filter through again. Softly, at first, then louder and clearer as time goes by.

“I could never be with her,” someone hisses.

“But-” Carlisle begins.

“No! I’ve read her mind…”

He knows!