There was a long and painful silence before either of us spoke again.
"I'm not running anywhere," Bella promised with obvious triumph in her voice, like she was looking fate in the eye and taunting it.
I remembered the story, and thought that if I continued maybe, just maybe, she would hear something that would scare her away, "We'll see," I smiled.
Her lips turned down at the corners, a frown forming on her face, "So, go on - Carlisle was swimming to France."
I caught my breath, delighting in the ever present yearning in my stomach. I moved my gaze from her face to another painting deciding to continue, "Carlisle swam to France," I repeated, "and continued on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine - and found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives. I can't adequately describe the struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to prefect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital..." I trailed off, my thoughts moving in a different direction.
I willed myself to be like Carlisle. I wished to have his self control, to never have to second guess my senses. I inhaled; something I used to do to calm myself, but now it brought red hot flames ripping down my throat. I mentally shut out the yearning I had now. I remembered what my purpose was for this conversation. I brought my hand to the painting in front of us, tapping lightly on it.
"He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were much more civilized and educated than the wraiths of the London sewers." I said while lightly tracing the figures in the picture; the Volturi.
I was so deep in thought, remembering things that Carlisle had seen when a startled laugh burst out of Bella's lips. I turned to see what the matter was; thinking that maybe she finally had lost it. Dawn crossed my face as I realized what she was looking at. It was Carlisle's face in the painting with the Volturi.
"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted them as gods," I laughed at the impossibility that any vampire could ever be a god, "Aro, Marcus, Caius," I explained as I pointed each one out to her, "Nighttime patrons of the arts."
Her eyes darted from the painting to me face, "What happened to them?" she questioned.
Her hand reached up to touch the figures in the painting but her finger never touched.
"They're still there," I shrugged, "As they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle stayed with them only for a short time, just a few decades. He greatly admired their civility, their refinement, but they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to 'his natural food source,' as they called it. They tried to persuade him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely, you see.
"He didn't find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine. But the companionship he craved evaded him; he couldn't risk familiarity.
"When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in Chicago. He'd been turning over an idea in his mind for several years, and he had almost decided to act - since he couldn't find a companion, he would create one. He wasn't absolutely sure how his own transformation had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to steal anyone's life the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that he found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. He had nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. He decided to try..."
During my story telling, I had visualized everything that Carlisle and I had both witnessed during the few days before and after my transformation. The painful memory was something I rarely thought of these days. I looked out the window, banishing the unpopular imagines from my mind.
My chest was swelling at the relief I felt for finally releasing the information that could doom me from ever seeing this delightful creature again. The feeling of happiness that was surging through my body at this moment in time was completely indescribable. I hadn't realized that I would feel like this, too; that knowing she wasn't running, that she was one hundred percent accepting. I returned my gaze to Bella. She looked humble and my lips turned up; an automatic response to her beauty.
"And so we've come full circle," I finished.
"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" she asked.
She was constantly asking all the questions that gave everything away about me and nothing about her, "Almost always," I replied.
I slowly reached out and placed my hand on her waist, exaggerating the movement. I delicately moved her along with me, always remembering how fragile she was.
"Almost?" Bella asked while we were walking down the hall.
Crap, I thought. Why was this the one question, of all the questions, to ask? I knew I would give her the answer. The internal argument of her safety still loomed in my mind. She should stay away from me but I loved her and the thought of her leaving caused me physical pain. Pain was something I hadn't felt since before the transformation. Bella brought out all the human aspects of me, including the weakness of pain.
I sighed, "Well, I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence - about ten years after I was...born...created, whatever you want to call it. I wasn't sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time." I explained.