How did I get myself in this bloody mess?
Standing at the attic window, my eyes narrow as the sunlight glints off his blond head.
Carlisle.
The name is a growl in my mind, and his son – that Edward – raises his head. His strange golden eyes meet mine through the glass, and I know he's listening to me. He knows what I'm thinking.
I can't help it. I shouldn't have to.
If it weren't for Carlisle, I wouldn't be stuck here. What a choice – wait for the Volturi or run away.
Either way, they will know I was here.
Doomed.
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