midnight sun | Page 9

was myself. And I would hate us both so much more when she was dead. I made it through the hour in this way—imagining the best ways to kill her. I tried to avoid imagining the actual act. That might be too much for me; I might lose this battle and end up killing everyone in sight. So I planned strategy, and nothing more. It carried me through the hour. Once, toward the very end, she peeked up at me through the fluid wall of her hair. I could feel the unjustified hatred burning out of me as I met her gaze—see the reflection of it in her frightened eyes. Blood painted her cheek before she could hide in her hair again, and I was nearly undone. But the bell rang. Saved by the bell—how cliché. We were both saved. She, saved from death. I, saved for just a short time from being the nightmarish creature I feared and loathed. I couldn’t walk as slowly as I should as I darted from the room. If anyone had been looking at me, they might have suspected that there was something not right about the way I moved. No one was paying attention to me. All human thoughts still swirled around the girl who was condemned to die in little more than an hour’s time. I hid in my car. I didn’t like to think of myself having to hide. How cowardly that sounded. But it was unquestionably the case now. I didn’t have enough discipline left to be around humans now. Focusing so much of my efforts on not killing one of them left me no resources to resist the others. What a waste that would be. If I were to give in to the monster, I might as well make it worth the defeat. I played a CD of music that usually calmed me, but it did little for me now. No, what helped most now was the cool, wet, clean air that drifted with the light rain through my open windows. Though I could remember the scent of Bella Swan’s blood with perfect clarity, inhaling the clean air was like washing out the inside of my body from its infection. I was sane again. I could think again. And I could fight again. I could fight against what I didn’t want to be.

© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 17 I didn’t have to go to her home. I didn’t have to kill her. Obviously, I was a rational, thinking creature, and I had a choice. There was always a choice. It hadn’t felt that way in the classroom…but I was away from her now. Perhaps, if I avoided her very, very carefully, there was no need for my life to change. I had things ordered the way I liked them now. Why should I let some aggravating and delicious nobody ruin that? I didn’t have to disappoint my father. I didn’t have to cause my mother stress, worry…pain. Yes, it would hurt my adopted mother, too. And Esme was so gentle, so tender and soft. Causing someone like Esme pain was truly inexcusable. How ironic that I’d wanted to protect this human girl from the paltry, toothless threat of Jessica Stanley’s snide thoughts. I was the last person who would ever stand as a protector for Isabella Swan. She would never need protection from anything more than she needed it from me. Where was Alice, I suddenly wondered? Hadn’t she seen me killing the Swan girl in a multitude of ways? Why hadn’t she come to help—to stop me or help me clean up the evidence, whichever? Was she so absorbed with watching for trouble with Jasper that she’d missed this much more horrific possibility? Was I stronger than I thought? Would I really not have done anything to the girl? No. I knew that wasn’t true. Alice must be concentrating on Jasper very hard. I searched in the direction I knew she would be, in the small building used for English classes. It did not take me long to locate her familiar ‘voice.’ And I was right. Her every thought was turned to Jasper, watching his small choices with minute scrutiny. I wished I could ask her advice, but at the same time, I was glad she didn’t know what I was capable of. That she was unaware of the massacre I