Einstein was right; Time is relative to the observer. When your looking down the barrel of a gun, time slows down. Your whole life flashes by, heartbreak and scars. Except I wasn't looking at the barrel of a gun, I was looking at him.
I had never given much though to how I would die – though I had reason enough in the last few months – but even I had, I would not have imagined it like this.
Myth. Legend. Fairy tales. You never think they are real. That the world around you isn't actually what it seems.
The pain of my transformation is the sharpest memory I have of my human life.
The world as I knew it had changed.
I awoke a week later with no recollection of what had happened to me.
Carlisle said that I had survived the accident long enough to get to the hospital, where my brother and parents were already waiting. They knew. My parents. Knew what he was, and that he could save me, even if it meant giving me a life that I didn't want. A life that they had chosen for me.
Everything was amplified. Every emotion, every sense. Heightened. I could see every minute dust particle floating around the very empty room.
The craving for the same very thing that used to run through my veins, almost unbearable.
Not being able to touch my two twin baby girls, who were so tragically removed from the safety of my womb too early.
To live a life of immortality. A life that I hate. A life that disgusts me. A life where I am dead.
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