heartbeat ⇢ demetri volturi

𝒕𝒘𝒐

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"𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄."

Lucy was crying with an intensity that Eleanor had never witnessed before. She buried her face in her trembling hands, her quick, hiccupping breaths punctuating her distress.

"You keep growing... We don't have any answers..." she sobbed, voice cracking. "And every day you look more like her. Every time I look at you..." she paused, taking a long breath of air. "Every time I look at you, I see her. And I ask myself why her and not you?"

Eleanor swallowed hard, feeling as if sharp needles were passing through her throat, hurting everything in their path.

Ever since she had opened her eyes that morning, she had felt a particular tension in the air. And this time, it wasn't the usual tension of worry and uncertainty that had surrounded her since she was a baby. It was another kind, cold and silent. 

She knew something in particular wasn't right. Her aunt was distant. She hadn't greeted her in the morning. She hadn't cooked her breakfast. And she hadn't even looked alarmed when Eleanor randomly commented that she had grown another inch. No, not a single usual look of concern.

And she thought maybe Lucy was just having a stressful day. Maybe her job was demanding too much from her. Maybe the search to know the true nature of her niece was also overwhelming her, too. Eleanor had already expressed wanting to have a part in it, but Lucy and Wanda had refused. But seeing her aunt's condition, she made a mental note to insist on the matter again. 

But suddenly, it hit her. Looking at the calendar pinned on the refrigerator for confirmation, a lump formed in her throat. No. It wasn't work, it wasn't stress.

It was one year since her birth.

One year since the death of her mother.

One year since the death of Lucy's sister.

"What can I do?" Eleanor asked. Her eyes had dropped to the floor, unable to look at Lucy's face and meet the look of hatred, emotion already given off in her words.

"Nothing," Lucy replied, voice suddenly empty of emotion. "You've already done enough."

Eleanor closed her eyes tightly, in a useless attempt to push all thoughts from her mind. Even though quite some time had passed, the situation kept replaying in her mind over and over again. Every time she went to bed, every time she got up, the last words she had heard from Lucy's mouth before she escaped followed her whether her mind was busy or empty. And she was sure it would be that way forever.

"You should drink this, kid," a voice broke the silence, followed by a heavy thud against the floor.

Eleanor, sitting on the first steps of the staircase, opened her eyes and stared in horror at the unconscious body of an old lady on the floor. With inhuman speed she run away until she was on the second floor, staring at the red-eyed vampire visibly angry.

"I told you I don't drink blood!" she shouted. The old lady's body had begun to move slightly, regaining consciousness. She turned her face away, unable to watch her. 

"You're weak," Thomas declared. "Physically and mentally. How long do you think you can last in our world without human blood? Your senses, your strength, speed, everything would improve..."