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the　hunger　that　was　an　echo　of　the　thirst。　　My　muscles　coiled　to　spring。　
Not　a　full　second　had　passed。　　She　was　still　taking　the　same　step　that　had　put　her　
downwind　from　me。　
As　her　foot　touched　the　ground；　her　eyes　slid　toward　me；　a　movement　she　clearly　
meant　to　be　stealthy。　　Her　glance　met　mine；　and　I　saw　myself　reflected　in　the　wide　mirror　
of　her　eyes。　
The　shock　of　the　face　I　saw　there　saved　her　life　for　a　few　thorny　moments。　
She　didn't　make　it　easier。　　When　she　processed　the　expression　on　my　face；　blood　
flooded　her　cheeks　again；　turning　her　skin　the　most　delicious　color　I'd　ever　seen。　　The　
scent　was　a　thick　haze　in　my　brain。　　I　could　barely　think　through　it。　　My　thoughts　raged；　
resisting　control；　incoherent。　
She　walked　more　quickly　now；　as　if　she　understood　the　need　to　escape。　　Her　haste　
made　her　clumsy—she　tripped　and　stumbled　forward；　almost　falling　into　the　girl　seated　in　
front　of　me。　　Vulnerable；　weak。　　Even　more　than　usual　for　a　human。　
I　tried　to　focus　on　the　face　I'd　seen　in　her　eyes；　a　face　I　recognized　with　revulsion。　
The　face　of　the　monster　in　me—the　face　I'd　beaten　back　with　decades　of　effort　and　
uncompromising　discipline。　　How　easily　it　sprang　to　the　surface　now！　
The　scent　swirled　around　me　again；　scattering　my　thoughts　and　nearly　propelling　
me　out　of　my　seat。　
No。　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
11　

My　hand　gripped　under　the　edge　of　the　table　as　I　tried　to　hold　myself　in　my　chair。　
The　wood　was　not　up　to　the　task。　　My　hand　crushed　through　the　strut　and　came　away　with　
a　palmful　of　splintered　pulp；　leaving　the　shape　of　my　fingers　carved　into　the　remaining　
wood。　
Destroy　evidence。　　That　was　a　fundamental　rule。　　I　quickly　pulverized　the　edges　of　
the　shape　with　my　fingertips；　leaving　nothing　but　a　ragged　hole　and　a　pile　of　shavings　on　
the　floor；　which　I　scattered　with　my　foot。　
Destroy　evidence。　　Collateral　damage？。　
I　knew　what　had　to　happen　now。　　The　girl　would　have　to　come　sit　beside　me；　and　
I　would　have　to　kill　her。　
The　innocent　bystanders　in　this　classroom；　eighteen　other　children　and　one　man；　
could　not　be　allowed　to　leave　this　room；　having　seen　what　they　would　soon　see。　
I　flinched　at　the　thought　of　what　I　must　do。　　Even　at　my　very　worst；　I　had　never　
committed　this　kind　of　atrocity。　　I　had　never　killed　innocents；　not　in　over　eight　decades。　
And　now　I　planned　to　slaughter　twenty　of　them　at　once。　
The　face　of　the　monster　in　the　mirror　mocked　me。　
Even　as　part　of　me　shuddered　away　from　the　monster；　another　part　was　planning　
it。　
If　I　killed　the　girl　first；　I　would　have　only　fifteen　or　twenty　seconds　with　her　
before　the　humans　in　the　room　would　react。　　Maybe　a　little　bit　longer；　if　at　first　they　did　
not　realize　what　I　was　doing。　　She　would　not　have　time　to　scream　or　feel　pain；　I　would　
not　kill　her　cruelly。　　That　much　I　could　give　this　stranger　with　her　horribly　desirable　
blood。　
But　then　I　would　have　to　stop　them　from　escaping。　　I　wouldn't　have　to　worry　
about　the　windows；　too　high　up　and　small　to　provide　an　escape　for　anyone。　　Just　the　
door—block　that　and　they　were　trapped。　
It　would　be　slower　and　more　difficult；　trying　to　take　them　all　down　when　they　
were　panicked　and　scrambling；　moving　in　chaos。　　Not　impossible；　but　there　would　be　
much　more　noise。　　Time　for　lots　of　screaming。　　Someone　would　hear？and　I'd　be　forced　
to　kill　even　more　innocents　in　this　black　hour。　
And　her　blood　would　cool；　while　I　murdered　the　others。　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
12　

The　scent　punished　me；　closing　my　throat　with　dry　aching？　
So　the　witnesses　first　then。　
I　mapped　it　out　in　my　head。　　I　was　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　the　furthest　row　in　
the　back。　　I　would　take　my　right　side　first。　　I　could　snap　four　or　five　of　their　necks　per　
second；　I　estimated。　　It　would　not　be　noisy。　　The　right　side　would　be　the　lucky　side；　they　
would　not　see　me　coming。　　Moving　around　the　front　and　back　up　the　left　side；　it　would　
take　me；　at　most；　five　seconds　to　end　every　life　in　this　room。　
Long　enough　for　Bella　Swan　to　see；　briefly；　what　was　coming　for　her。　　Long　
enough　for　her　to　feel　fear。　　Long　enough；　maybe；　if　shock　didn't　freeze　her　in　place；　for　
her　to　work　up　a　scream。　　One　soft　scream　that　would　not　bring　anyone　running。　
I　took　a　deep　breath；　and　the　scent　was　a　fire　that　raced　through　my　dry　veins；　
burning　out　from　my　chest　to　consume　every　better　impulse　that　I　was　capable　of。　
She　was　just　turning　now。　　In　a　few　seconds；　she　would　sit　down　inches　away　
from　me。　
The　monster　in　my　head　smiled　in　anticipation。　
Someone　slammed　shut　a　folder　on　my　left。　　I　didn't　look　up　to　see　which　of　the　
doomed　humans　it　was。　　But　the　motion　sent　a　wave　of　ordinary；　unscented　air　wafting　
across　my　face。　
For　one　short　second；　I　was　able　to　think　clearly。　　In　that　precious　second；　I　saw　
two　faces　in　my　head；　side　by　side。　
One　was　mine；　or　rather　had　been：　the　red…eyed　monster　that　had　killed　so　many　
people　that　I'd　stop　counting　their　numbers。　　Rationalized；　justified　murders。　　A　killer　of　
killers；　a　killer　of　other；　less　powerful　monsters。　　It　was　a　god　complex；　I　acknowledged　
that—deciding　who　deserved　a　death　sentence。　　It　was　a　compromise　with　myself。　　I　had　
fed　on　human　blood；　but　only　by　the　loosest　definition。　　My　victims　were；　in　their　various　
dark　pastimes；　barely　more　human　than　I　was。　
The　other　face　was　Carlisle's。　
There　was　no　resemblance　between　the　two　faces。　　They　were　bright　day　and　
blackest　night。　
There　was　no　reason　for　there　to　be　a　resemblance。　　Carlisle　was　not　my　father　in　
the　basic　biological　sense。　　We　shared　no　common　features。　　The　similarity　in　our　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
13　

coloring　was　a　product　of　what　we　were；　every　vampire　had　the　same　ice　pale　skin。　　The　
similarity　in　the　color　of　our　eyes　was　another　matter—a　reflection　of　a　mutual　choice。　
And　yet；　though　there　was　no　basis　for　a　resemblance；　I'd　imagined　that　my　face　
had　begun　to　reflect　his；　to　an　extent；　in　the　last　seventy…odd　years　that　I　had　embraced　
his　choice　and　followed　in　his　steps。　　My　features　had　not　changed；　but　it　seemed　to　me　
like　some　of　his　wisdom　had　marked　my　expression；　that　a　little　of　his　compassion　could　
be　traced　in　the　shape　of　my　mouth；　and　hints　of　his　patience　were　evident　on　my　brow。　
All　those　tiny　improvements　were　lost　in　the　face　of　the　monster。　　In　a　few　
moments；　there　would　be　nothing　left　in　me　that　would　reflect　the　years　I'd　spent　with　my　
creator；　my　mentor；　my　father　in　all　the　ways　that　counted。　　My　eyes　would　glow　red　as　a　
devil's；　all　likeness　would　be　lost　forever。　
In　my　head；　Carlisle's　kind　eyes　did　not　judge　me。　　I　knew　that　he　would　forgive　
me　for　this　horrible　act　that　I　would　do。　　Because　he　loved　me。　　Because　he　thought　I　was　
better　than　I　was。　　And　he　would　still　love　me；　even　as　I　now　proved　him　wrong。　
Bella　Swan　sat　down　in　the　chair　next　to　me；　her　movements　stiff　and　awkward—　
with　fear？—and　the　scent　of　her　blood　bloomed　in　an　inexorable　cloud　around　me。　
I　would　prove　my　father　wrong　about　me。　　The　misery　of　this　fact　hurt　almost　as　
much　as　the　fire　in　my　throat。　
I　leaned　away　from　her　in　revulsion—revolted　by　the　monster　aching　to　take　her。　
Why　did　she　have　to　come　here？　　Why　did　she　have　to　exist？　　Why　did　she　have　
to　ruin　the　little　peace　I　had　in　this　non…life　of　mine？　　Why　had　this　aggravating　human　
ever　been　born？　　She　would　ruin　me。　
I　turned　my　face　away　from　her；　as　a　sudden　fierce；　unreasoning　hatred　washed　
through　me。　
Who　was　this　creature？　　Why　me；　why　now？　　Why　did　I　have　to　lose　everything　
just　because　she　happened　to　choose　this　unlikely　town　to　appear　in？　
Why　had　she　come　here！　
I　didn't　want　to　be　the　monster！　　I　didn't　want　to　kill　this　room　full　of　harmless　
children！　　I　didn't　want　to　lose　everything　I'd　gained　in　a　lifetime　of　sacrifice　and　denial！　
I　wouldn't。　　She　couldn't　make　me。　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
14　

The　scent　was　the　problem；　the　hideously　appealing　scent　of　her　blood。　　If　there　
was　only　some　way　to　resist？if　only　another　gust　of　fresh　air　could　clear　my　head。　
Bella　Swan　shook　out　her　long；　thick；　mahogany　hair　in　my　direction。　
Was　she　insane？　　It　was　as　if　she　were　encouraging　the　monster！　　Taunting　him。　
There　was　no　friendly　breeze　to　blow　the　smell　away　from　me　now。　　All　would　
soon　be　lost。　
No；　there　was　no　helpful　breeze。　　But　I　didn't　have　to　breathe。　
I　stopped　the　flow　of　air　through　my　lungs；　the　relief　was　instantaneous；　but　
incomplete。　　I　still　had　the　memory　of　the　scent　in　my　head；　the　taste　of　it　on　the　back　of　
my　tongue。　　I　wouldn't　be　able　to　resist　even　that　for　long。　　But　perhaps　I　could　resist　for　
an　hour。　　One　hour。　　Just　enough　time　to　get　out　of　this　room　full　of　victims；　victims　that　
maybe　didn't　have　to　be　victims。　　If　I　could　resist　for　one　short　hour。　
It　was　an　uncomfortable　feeling；　not　breathing。　　My　body　did　not　need　oxygen；　
but　it　went　against　my　instincts。　　I　relied　on　scent　more　than　my　other　senses　in　times　of　
stress。　　It　led　the　way　in　the　hunt；　it　was　the　first　warning　in　case　of　danger。　　I　did　not　
often　came　across　something　as　dangerous　as　I　was；　but　self…preservation　was　just　as　
strong　in　my　kind　as　it　was　in　the　average　human。　
Uncomfortable；　but　manageable。　　More　bearable　than　smelling　her　and　not　
sinking　my　teeth　through　that　fine；　thin；　see…through　skin　to　the　hot；　wet；　pulsing—　
An　hour！　　Just　one　hour。　　I　must　not　think　of　the　scent；　the　taste。　
The　silent　girl　kept　her　hair　between　us；　leaning　forward　so　that　it　spilled　across　
her　folder。　　I　couldn't　see　her　face；　to　try　to　read　the　emotions　in　her　clear；　deep　eyes。　
Was　this　why　she'd　let　her　tresses　fan　out　between　us？　　To　hide　those　eyes　from　me？　　Out　
of　fear？　　Shyness？　　To　keep　her　secrets　from　me？　
My　former　irritation　at　being　stymied　by　her　soundless　thoughts　was　weak　and　
pale　in　comparison　to　the　need—and　the　hate—that　possessed　me　now。　　For　I　hated　this　
frail　woman…child　beside　me；　hated　her　with　all　the　fervor　with　which　I　clung　to　my　
former　self；　my　love　of　my　family；　my　dreams　of　being　something　better　than　what　I　
was？　　Hating　her；　hating　how　she　made　me　feel—it　helped　a　little。　　Yes；　the　irritation　I'd　
felt　before　was　weak；　but　it；　t