Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CARLISLE HAD GOTTEN THE CALL RIGHT BEFORE THE SUN CAME UP.
The message was simple: a girl had been found along the beach. Someone so similar to Wren. No memories, no ability to figure out who had done that to her. Yet they knew this time. Carlisle believed this was why she was in a state like Wren, battered and beaten. Her nose was broken, her cheek fractured in two places. It would take her at least a year to recover fully from some of these injuries.
He'd stored her down in the makeshift clinic he'd made in his house. Carlisle knew that humans could be hurt, so he'd created it not just for study but because he was near the woods. It wouldn't be that odd for an attack or fall to lead someone into his home.
That was the only reason why this girl was alive. Otherwise she would have died trying to make it to Harborview. Even if she'd lived, to explain her injuries was to get the police involved in the case, something Aro would throw a fit over.
He wasn't on good terms with him now, it was best to allow time to heal those wounds.
Carlisle never left her side. He was hungry after a week or so, sure, but that didn't shake the fact that she needed to be cared for and monitored constantly. She'd passed out and was currently comatose. The doctor had performed plenty of tests. Mainly the toxin screenings, where he found there were a few in her system that didn't make sense.
A high dose of gabapentin, mainly. To be on that high of a dose would require some probable cause that he didn't see. He'd given her a small dose, but had to stop once her heart rate started dropping. She hadn't had a partial seizure, let alone a full one. Unless it was being used for anxiety, there was no need to be on that high of a dose.
Nevertheless, Carlisle was collecting all of this data so he could choose what to do next. Seth had expressed not wanting her to turn, wanting to keep her intact, but with the injuries sustained, she'd be in a coma for at least a week before the vampire could think about bringing her out.
There were too many mysteries to this case for Carlisle to turn down the idea that she'd been sent to give something. He had taken off her clothes to replace them, not knowing what kind of dirt and grime could have gotten into her wounds. In the worst possible place, he found a note.
It was only in the second week that he'd gotten the chance to read it. Between Esme coming into the room and begging him to come back into the normal section of their home to manage Rose and Edward and Alice having small mental breakdowns in the presence of Bella, Carlisle's basket of things he could manage was growing fuller as the days went by.
That was perhaps the most angering part of it all. Carlisle hated it, being bothered so much and so often (though not by Esme, her worries he'd always hear because they came from a selfless place and most importantly because he loved her).
The guilt panged at him as he loomed over the body of this girl who clearly had nothing left to her. Another person stolen from themselves, supposedly by the man that created him. It put his own turning in a new light. An act of anger, of selfishness? It could be that. Carlisle hadn't talked to the man, didn't even remember his face. Maybe he would have, maybe his memories were messed with.
