❝ 𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞ ʲᵃˢᵖᵉʳ ʰᵃˡᵉ ( EN )

☇ 𝟯𝟱

The days that followed kept Théodora trapped in the intensive care room. The white walls, the relentless hum of machines, the antiseptic scent saturating the air... Everything gave the impression of a place beyond time, frozen in an eternal moment of suffering. The tubes tethering her to life, the electrodes stuck to her frail chest, all of it seemed to remind her that she was no longer the master of her own body—that every beat of her heart was measured, controlled, and monitored. Even the simple act of breathing required monumental effort, as if her body refused to obey her.

The Cullens took turns visiting her, each trying in their own way to bring her comfort. Alice often stayed by her side, her eyes shining with a sadness she couldn't hide. Rosalie would come, always standing tall and proud, attempting to share a bit of her strength. Emmett, awkward in his desire to make her smile, often remained silent, afraid of saying something that might wound her even more. Esme, on the other hand, would place soft kisses on her forehead, like a mother watching over her injured child, while Carlisle would explain the progress she was making, pointing out encouraging signs of recovery—even though Théodora didn't really hear him.

Her mother spent long hours at her bedside, her gentle hands brushing through Théodora's hair, trying to convey warmth and a sense of maternal safety Théodora so desperately craved. But every gesture, every whispered word, was merely background noise to Théodora. Her gaze stayed fixed on the white ceiling, her mind sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of pain and rage that consumed her from within. Each second in that bed felt like torture—a constant reminder of all she had lost, of everything that had been torn away from her.

Closing her eyes only brought her back to that moment—that instant when Maria had approached her, when the pain had invaded every fiber of her being, burning her flesh and reducing her soul to ashes. She endlessly relived the sight of those red eyes, those lips twisted into a cruel smile, and the chilling laughter of Estrella, which still echoed in her mind. She wondered if the pain would ever fade, if she would ever be able to forget, to erase that night from her memory. But the answer always seemed the same: no, never. It would remain etched in her, an indelible scar.

One day, lost in her thoughts, she felt Alice's insistent gaze on her. Théodora slowly turned her head towards her, fixing her with lifeless eyes.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she murmured, breaking the oppressive silence that filled the room. Her voice was hoarse, cracked from the lack of use in days.

Alice offered her a sad smile, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Because I'm sorry, Théodora. I'm sorry I didn't see it coming, that I couldn't protect you."

"I don't need your pity," Théodora retorted sharply, turning her gaze back to the ceiling.
"I don't need anyone." Her voice was a mix of bitterness and pain, a shield she raised to push away anyone who tried to console her. She didn't want their compassion, their tenderness. She wanted none of it. All she craved was freedom from the weight, from the rage boiling inside her, suffocating her a little more with every passing moment.

The days continued to crawl by, slow and interminable, and Théodora retreated further into her own world, refusing to speak, react, or show any sign of life. Even her mother's attempts—placing kisses on her forehead and whispering words of encouragement—failed to penetrate the shell she had built around her heart. Her mind returned again and again to that fateful day when everything had changed, to that vision of Jasper, bent over that animal, drinking its blood. That moment, that precise moment, had upended her life and plunged her into this nightmare. It was as if her existence had been split into two: before and after.

One afternoon, as Jasper kept watch by her bedside, thinking she was asleep, Théodora whispered in a broken voice:

"I hate you."