Midnight Sun(43)

"Enjoy your run," Rosalie said smugly as I threw myself out of the car.
But I didn't go running today. Instead, I went hunting.
The others were scheduled to hunt tomorrow, but I couldn't afford to be thirsty now. I overdid it,
drinking more than necessary, glutting myself again-a small grouping of elk and one black bear I was
lucky to stumble across this early in the year. I was so full it was uncomfortable. Why couldn't that be
enough? Why did her scent have to be so much stronger than anything else?
I had hunted in preparation for the next day, but, when I could hunt no more and the sun was still hours
and hours from rising, I knew that the next day was not soon enough.
The jittery high swept through me again when I realized that I was going to go find the girl.
I argued with myself all the way back to Forks, but my less noble side won the argument, and I went
ahead with my indefensible plan. The monster was restless but well-fettered. I knew I would keep a safe
distance from her. I only wanted to know where she was. I just wanted to see her face.
It was past midnight, and Bella's house was dark and quiet. Her truck was parked against the curb, her
father's police cruiser in the driveway. There were no conscious thoughts anywhere in the
neighborhood. I watched the house for a moment from the blackness of the forest that bordered it on
the east. The front door would probably be locked-not a problem, except that I didn't want to leave a
broken door as evidence behind me. I decided to try the upstairs window first. Not many people would
bother installing a lock there.
I crossed the open yard and scaled the face of the house in half a second. Dangling from the eave above
the window by one hand, I looked through the glass, and my breath stopped.
It was her room. I could see her in the one small bed, her covers on the floor and her sheets twisted
around her legs. As I watched, she twitched restlessly and threw one arm over her head. She did not
sleep soundly, at least not this night. Did she sense the danger near her?
I was repulsed by myself as I watched her toss again. How was I any better than some sick peeping tom?
I wasn't any better. I was much, much worse.
I relaxed my fingertips, about to let myself drop. But first I allowed myself one long look at her face.
It was not peaceful. The little furrow was there between her eyebrows, the corners of her lips turned
down. Her lips trembled, and then parted.
"Okay, Mom," she muttered.
Bella talked in her sleep.
Curiosity flared, overpowering self-disgust. The lure of those unprotected, unconsciously spoken
thoughts was impossibly tempting.
I tried the window, and it was not locked, though it stuck due to long disuse. I slid it slowly aside,
cringing at each faint groan of the metal frame. I would have to find some oil for next time...
Next time? I shook my head, disgusted again.
I eased myself silently through the half-opened window. Her room was small-disorganized but not
unclean. There were books piled on the floor beside her bed, their spines facing away from me, and CDs
scattered by her inexpensive CD player-the one on top was just a clear jewel case. Stacks of papers
surrounded a computer that looked like it belonged in a museum dedicated to obsolete technologies.
Shoes dotted the wooden floor.
I wanted very much to go read the titles of her books and CDs, but I'd promised myself that I would keep
my distance; instead, I went to sit the old rocking chair in the far corner of the room.
Had I really once thought her average-looking? I thought of that first day, and my disgust for the boys
who were so immediately intrigued with her. But when I remembered her face in their minds now, I
could not understand why I had not found her beautiful immediately. It seemed an obvious thing.
Right now-with her dark hair tangled and wild around her pale face, wearing a threadbare t-shirt full of
holes with tatty sweatpants, her features relaxed in unconsciousness, her full lips slightly parted-she
took my breath away. Or would have, I thought wryly, if I were breathing.
She did not speak. Perhaps her dream had ended.
I stared at her face and tried to think of some way to make the future bearable.
Hurting her was not bearable. Did that mean my only choice was to try to leave again?
The others could not argue with me now. My absence would not put anyone in danger. There would be
no suspicion, nothing to link anyone's thoughts back to the accident.
I wavered as I had this afternoon, and nothing seemed possible. I could not hope to rival the human
boys, whether these specific boys appealed to her or not. I was a monster. How could she see me as
anything else? If she knew the truth about me, it would frighten and repulse her. Like the intended
victim in a horror movie, she would run away, shrieking in terror.
I remembered her first day in biology...and knew that this was exactly the right reaction for her to have.