Empty Veins | Quil Ateara [4]

six

The house was deathly silent, still, as she approached the front, frowning at the anxiety and fear that bounced against her from the short distance. There was no way to gauge their thoughts, not when she had been warned that there was some kind of something that she ought to prepare for, but that didn't leave her with much of an answer. 

Anything could have been behind those doors, hidden from her, and she allowed herself a singular moment to silent seethe at the thought. 

She steadied her heart, cooled her emotions the best she could, and made for the door, letting herself in (if the door closed harder than necessary, then she would deny it). Each step seemed to echo, announcing her, but not a word was spoken, not a singular sound, and it drew into a point at her back feeling as though she was being stabbed. 

Carlisle was first, standing in her path grim-faced with Esme close at his side. He didn't offer any words, but the look of him was enough to confirm Bella's temporary humanity. She wasn't sure if she ought to be relieved. 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, a fatherly touch, and she let him guide her up the steps to the front room, the one with the giant window and the balcony in which they all would have seen her approach, could have seen the destructive emotions that ran rampant beneath her skin.  

Part of her wanted to shake him off, but the comfort the gesture brought her was too much of an anchor to the present, keeping her from getting so carried away. 

Everyone was gathered around, standing by the walls statuesque in their eternal beauty -- unmoving as she came into the room, and it felt like a messed up museum as they stared unblinkingly and blind to her weak steps. 

On the couch, tugged under a blanket with Rosalie stood at her side, was her sister, a hand resting against a slightly rounded, pouched stomach -- smiling happily up at her. 

She ran through the days in her mind, trying to search for any sort of possible answer, but there was none -- at least not one that could ever make sense, and she glanced at Edward quickly, watching for any sort of flinch or tell in his expression. He gave none and she felt a snarl press silently in her throat. 

Andy dug deeper, letting her mind go as it tore into his, searching his soul for all the emotions it bore, ripping her way through for some semblance of confirmation. She nearly shrieked at the guilt speared through the entirety of his being, entwined so deeply with his essence that she nearly missed what he was guilty for this time -- the fear, and the desperation, and the mourning all paired nicely with his rage and self-loathing. 

Staggering as she pulled away, Andy wiped at the tickling over her upper lip, smearing blood against the back of her hand that she wiped dutifully against her pants, sniffing to clear the rest -- and oh, she was still wearing Quil's shirt, the smell shooting through her like a calming current.  

"What is this?" she breathes, surprised by how deep and low her voice comes out. 

"Andy," Bella smiles, reaching a hand out for her. 

She doesn't move. Jaw working as she stares at her sister. She looked thinner, tired and worn out, and she would have tried to convince herself that it was just from the honeymoon and the travel, but she knew better. It was almost as though she could see her stomach growing just standing here. 

"What is this?" she repeats, because she didn't want to believe it was true. "Tell me, Bella." 

Her sister glances to Edward, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Breathing deeply, she turns to Carlisle. "How is that possible?" 

"You're going to be an Aunt!" Bella called and Andy winced, shying away from those words. "This is a good thing! You always wanted a big family."