01 | dream, rosalie hale

16.

ROSALIE led her back down the hall, to Carlisle's office. She knocked on the door, despite Carlisle already being able to hear them.

"Come in," Carlisle's voice spoke from behind the wooden door.

Rosalie opened the door to reveal yet another room that Elexia was not expecting in the slightest. The ceiling was high and the left wall was all glass. The walls were paneled wood; although they were mostly covered by bookshelves.

Carlisle sat at a wood desk in a black leather chair. He closed the book he had been reading before they walked in.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, with his usual kind tone, standing from his chair.

"I wanted to show Elexia some of our history," Rosalie said. "Well, your history, actually."

"I'm sorry to bother you," Elexia apologized.

"No worries, you aren't." He smiled at her. "Where are you going to start?"

"The Waggoner," Rosalie answered, turning Elexia over to a wall that was covered in photos and pulled her to the left. The painting was of a city. Elexia couldn't figure out which one, let alone what year it was in. It seemed very ancient.

Rosalie seemed to understand what she was thinking. "London in the sixteen-fifties,"

Elexia's lips parted just a little bit, and she realized that she didn't know how old Carlisle actually was.

"The London of my youth," Carlisle spoke from behind them.

"Can you tell her the story?" Rosalie asked. "It's better when you do it."

Carlisle smiled. "I would, but I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning - Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do,"

Carlisle smiled one more time, before exiting the room. Elexia turned her head back around to look at the painting. She wondered what it must've been like, to be alive during that time.

Rosalie began speaking quietly, "Carlisle was the son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves and vampires. They burned a lot of innocent people - of course, the real creatures were not so easy to catch. When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment - he was not quick to accuse. But he was more persistent than his father. He did actually discover a coven of real vampires living in the sewers of the city. The people gathered pitchforks and torches and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit. Eventually one came out. He must have been super old, and weak from not eating. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the other vampires in the sewer. He was too hungry, so he attacked. Carlisle was the first. He was left bleeding in the street.

"Carlisle knew what his father would do. He would burn the bodies. Carlisle saved his own life, crawling away from the alley. He hid in a cellar and buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. He realized what he had become. He rebelled against it at first. He tried to destroy himself. He tried to jump from great heights. . . tried to drown himself. He was able to resist feeding, despite being so young. The instinct is usually all you can think about then. He tried starvation next. That can't kill us, so he just became very weak. He stayed far away from humans.

"One night, a herd of deer passed where he was staying. He was so thirsty that he attacked them without thinking. His strength came back, and that's how he learned of the alternative of feeding on animals to survive. He swam to France-"