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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； too； helped a little。 I clung to any emotion that distracted me
from imagining what she would taste like？
？ 2008 Stephenie Meyer
15
Hate and irritation。 Impatience。 Would the hour never pass？
And when the hour ended？ Then she would walk out of this room。 And I would
do what？
I could introduce myself。 Hello； my name is Edward Cullen。 May I walk you to
your next class？
She would say yes。 It would be the polite thing to do。 Even already fearing me；
as I suspected she did； she would follow convention and walk beside me。 It should be
easy enough to lead her in the wrong direction。 A spur of the forest reached out like a
finger to touch the back corner of the parking lot。 I could tell her I'd forgotten a book in
my car？
Would anyone notice that I was the last person she'd been seen with？ It was
raining； as usual； two dark raincoats heading the wrong direction wouldn't pique too
much interest； or give me away。
Except that I was not the only student who was aware of her today—though no
one was as blisteringly aware as I was。 Mike Newton； in particular； was conscious of
every shift in her weight as she fidgeted in her chair—she was uncomfortable so close to
me； just as anyone would be； just as I'd expected before her scent had destroyed all
charitable concern。 Mike Newton would notice if she left the classroom with me。
If I could last an hour； could I last two？
I flinched at the pain of the burning。
She would go home to an empty house。 Police Chief Swan worked a full day。 I
knew his house； as I knew every house in the tiny town。 His home was nestled right up
against thick woods； with no close neighbors。 Even if she had time to scream； which she
would not； there would be no one to hear。
That would be the responsible way to deal with this。 I'd gone seven decades
without human blood。 If I held my breath； I could last two hours。 And when I had her
alone； there would be no chance of anyone else getting hurt。 And no reason to rush
through the experience； the monster in my head agreed。
It was sophistry to think that by saving the nineteen humans in this room with
effort and patience； I would be less a monster when I killed this innocent girl。
？ 2008 Stephenie Meyer
16
Though I hated her； I knew my hatred was unjust。 I knew that what I really hated
was myself。 And I would hate us both so much more when she was dead。
I made it through the hour in this way—imagining the best ways to kill her。 I
tried to avoid imagining the actual act。 That might be too much for me； I might lose this
battle and end up killing everyone in sight。 So I planned strategy； and nothing more。 It
carried me through the hour。
Once； toward the very end； she peeked up at me through the fluid wall of her hair。
I could feel the unjustified hatred burning out of me as I met her gaze—see the reflection
of it in her frightened eyes。 Blood painted her cheek before she could hide in her hair
again； and I was nearly undone。
But the bell rang。 Saved by the bell—how cliché。 We were both saved。 She；
saved from death。 I； saved for just a short time from being the nightmarish creature I
feared and loathed。
I couldn't walk as slowly as I should as I darted from the room。 If anyone had
been looking at me； they might have suspected that there was something not right about
the way I moved。 No one was paying attention to me。 All human thoughts still swirled
around the girl who was condemned to die in little more than an hour's time。
I hid in my car。
I didn't like to think of myself having to hide。 How cowardly that sounded。 But
it was unquestionably the case now。
I didn't have enough discipline left to be around humans now。 Focusing so much
of my efforts on not killing one of them left me no resources to resist the others。 What a
waste that would be。 If I were to give in to the monster； I might as well make it worth the
defeat。
I played a CD of music that usually calmed me； but it did little for me now。 No；
what helped most now was the cool； wet； clean air that drifted with the light rain through
my open windows。 Though I could remember the scent of Bella Swan's blood with
perfect clarity； inhaling the clean air was like washing out the inside of my body from its
infection。
I was sane again。 I could think again。 And I could fight again。 I could fight
against what I didn't want to be。
？ 2008 Stephenie Meyer
17
I didn't have to go to her home。 I didn't have to kill her。 Obviously； I was a
rational； thinking creature； and I had a choice。 There was always a choice。
It hadn't felt that way in the classroom？but I was away from her now。 Perhaps；
if I avoided her very； very carefully； there was no need for my life to change。 I had
things ordered the way I liked them now。 Why should I let some aggravating and
delicious nobody ruin that？
I didn't have to disappoint my father。 I didn't have to cause my mother stress；
worry？pain。 Yes； it would hurt my adopted mother； too。 And Esme was so gentle； so
tender and soft。 Causing someone like Esme pain was truly inexcusable。
How ironic that I'd wanted to protect this human girl from the paltry； toothless
threat of Jessica Stanley's snide thoughts。 I was the last person who would ever stand as
a protector for Isabella Swan。 She would never need protection from anything more than
she needed it from me。
Where was Alice； I suddenly wondered？ Hadn't she seen me killing the Swan
girl in a multitude of ways？ Why hadn't she come to help—to stop me or help me clean
up the evidence； whichever？ Was she so absorbed with watching for trouble with Jasper
that she'd missed this much more horrific possibility？ Was I stronger than I thought？
Would I really not have done anything to the girl？
No。 I knew that wasn't true。 Alice must be concentrating on Jasper very hard。
I searched in the direction I knew she would be； in the small building used for
English classes。 It did not take me long to locate her famili