𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 / 𝐈𝐕.

V.

impossibilities 

RAIN lightly falls against the windows, a thick fog surrounds the house and secludes me from the outside world. With Edward hunting for the first time since we arrived in Alaska, the house is lonely except for my thoughts which are far too loud.

With my tea steeping in the kitchen, my steps echo off the walls as I search the house for painkillers as my head throbs. You'd think in a house that belongs to a doctor, he'd keep a stocked medicine cabinet. But even Carlisle's office is eerily empty with only a few old medical ledgers sitting on the shelves along with a dusty photo of him and Edward that makes me smile.

I creep out of the office, feeling like an unwanted visitor in the dusty house. Glaring at a stuffed squirrel, I return to the kitchen for my tea, deciding to ask Edward when he gets back from his hunt.

But for now, I sit with my mug and journal, trying to keep some sanity in recording my thoughts. The spine of the notebook groans as I open it for the second time, but the pen doesn't move. Minutes pass, but I can't find it in me to write except for the date, August 25th. The headache has gotten so bad it distracts me from a cohesive string of thoughts.

"Fuck this," I mutter before shutting the journal. Ignoring my tea that'd grown cold and bitter, I get up from my seat. And remembering that I'd seen some sort of medicine bottle in my bathroom, I return to the hunt for painkillers.

Opening the bathroom mirror, I search through the shelves of Edward's toiletries in vain. A toothbrush, a nail clipper, and mouthwash-- it must be so easy to have such limited need for hygiene. I close the mirror and pull open the drawers of the vanity. Rummaging through my makeup and skincare, my hand pauses over the unopened box of tampons. How long had it been since I'd last had my period?

I count back on my fingers, unease filling my stomach when I realize that I'm late. A week late to be correct.

Nausea shoots through my body, I cover my mouth in an attempt to stop myself from retching. All the sickness I've felt the past weeks, the bloating and lack of appetite, my lack of sleep and headaches. My knees buckle and I cling to the sink to stay anchored. But my whole world is spinning, tilting against me, tremors course through my body as I start to cry.

The deer head judges from its mount. I can hear the condemnation now.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Heather?" Edward's return from his hunt breaks my trance. I stumbled to the doorway, leaning against the frame to keep me standing though I've never felt weaker. "Heather, what's wrong?"

My mouth opens but no words fall out, he crosses the room and takes me into his arms. Like a pillar of stone, he holds me there as the fleeting feeling of suffocation takes hold of my lungs.

"Baby, I can't understand your thoughts. You have to tell me what's going on." He tells me, brushing away hair from my tear-stained cheeks.

"I haven't had my period." The words come out choked, and I'm not sure even he even understands until I feel his grip tighten. "I completely missed this cycle. I don't know what to do, I don't! This shouldn't be happening!"

"Maybe it's a fluke?" Edward suggests, trying to stop me from falling apart right in his arms. "Maybe the stress of everything messed the cycle up?"

"It's not! I know it's not, I can feel that something is wrong in my body, Edward." I say, tears surging again as I dig my nails into his cold skin. He pulls me back close to his chest, letting me cry against his sweatshirt for comfort.

"I'm going to call Carlisle. We'll figure this out, okay?" He leads me over to the bed, sitting me down before stepping away to call Carlisle. I slump onto the quilt, curling up as I hear the muffled voices in the hall. My shaking hand sinks over my stomach, almost as if I'm expecting to feel something under my skin. But there is no movement, no shift under my flesh.

Is this real? Is this actually happening? Or is this some sick and twisted nightmare?

"He wants to talk to you," Edward walks back into the room. Looking almost translucent and sick as I take the phone out of his clammy hand.

"Hello?" I sniffle, wiping at my nose as I try to imagine what questions Carlisle will ask me. The horror I'll experience when he asks about my sexual activity with his son.

"Heather? Can you tell me what's going on and for how long?" Carlisle's voice is steady on the line compared to mine which is frantic as I try to recall every symptom and pain. With each recounting of what's happened, it becomes more apparent in my eyes. A change is happening that I can't stop, my world is about to change for better or for worse. Only time will tell. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The gas station bathroom is cold, and I'm fighting the urge to gag again from the stench as I stand over the counter. Two small, plastic sticks glare up at me as I silently count as the embarrassment has still not settled from buying them. Outside of the small, dank bathroom, Edward is waiting expectantly for the news. All we need is for the tests to prove me wrong, to say that this was a false flag and my body can't cope with the change. 

 Glancing up at the cracked mirror as I continue to mutter out seconds, I take it my changed appearance. The almost gaunt look under my eyes, and the sickly pale complexion I've taken on is horrifying. Like a ghost of my former self, a shell of what once was. 

 "116, 117, 118." Taking a deep breath, gulping in the air like I'm about to crash into the ocean, I look down. The two pink lines are faint but clear, screaming at me the news. And I scream back. 

Sana's Note
Sorry for the delay, I was out of town this past weekend and didn't have time to write and update. Plus when I got home I was super tired. But here we are! Shit has officially hit the fan for Heather and Edward! Feel free to leave name suggestions in the comment box, I would love to hear your ideas (Since we're not doing Renesmee for obvious reasons) and leave your theories. What are you thinking? Boy or girl?