Midnight Sun

Your life seems to be at a crossroads

“Forks must be the difficult place for you to live.” Perhaps you should not have come here, I wanted to add. Perhaps you should go back where you belong.

I pulled my chair back with unnecessary roughness, letting it scrape across the linoleum—humans always felt more comfortable when noise announced someone’s approach.

“She’s coming in,” Alice murmured then. My body froze. “Try to look human.”

“Human, you say?” Emmet asked.

Where would I go? I could not think of one place on the entire plane that held any interest for me. There was nothing I wanted to see or do. Because no matter where I went, I would not be going to anywhere—I would only be running from.

There was always a choice.

“Too young, too young”, she chanted to herself. Wrong, of course. I was older than her grandfather.

And we—how cliché—were saved. She, from death. I, for just a short time, from being the nightmarish creature I feared and loathed.

Every life in this room was in danger while she and I were in it together.

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 nonlife of mine? Why had this aggravating human ever been born? She would ruin me.

I would prove my father wrong about me. The misery of this fact hurt almost as much as the fire in my throat.

In my head, Charlie’s kind eyes did not judge me. I knew that he would forgive me for this horrible act. Because he loved me. Because he thought I was better than I was.

Но ни для кого из них вопрос о жизни и смерти не стоял так остро, как для меня. Это моя жизнь лежала на каталке. Моя жизнь, бледная и бесчувственная, опутанная трубками, оклеенная пластырем и загипсованная.

Но не могла же она всерьез считать, что чувства смертного, порождение семнадцати коротких лет, сильнее подобия чугунного шара для сноса зданий, которое врезалось в меня после вековой пустоты?

Окутанный дождем, совершенно один, я наконец заставил  себя взглянуть на то, что натворил, - на то , как изувечил будущее.

Могло ли мертвое, замерзшее сердце разбиться? Казалось, что мое смогло
Могло ли мертвое, ледяное сердце снова разлететься на осколки? Казалось, что моё уже не собрать...

Как же вышло, что солнце встает посреди моей полуночи?

За краткую бездумную секунду , пока я несся по обледеневшей парковке , я превратился из убийцы в защитника.