5 midnigh+sun-第4部分

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much　as　the　fire　in　my　throat。　
I　leaned　away　from　her　in　revulsion—revolted　by　the　monster　aching　to　take　her。　
Why　did　she　have　to　come　here？　　Why　did　she　have　to　exist？　　Why　did　she　have　
to　ruin　the　little　peace　I　had　in　this　non…life　of　mine？　　Why　had　this　aggravating　human　
ever　been　born？　　She　would　ruin　me。　
I　turned　my　face　away　from　her；　as　a　sudden　fierce；　unreasoning　hatred　washed　
through　me。　
Who　was　this　creature？　　Why　me；　why　now？　　Why　did　I　have　to　lose　everything　
just　because　she　happened　to　choose　this　unlikely　town　to　appear　in？　
Why　had　she　come　here！　
I　didn't　want　to　be　the　monster！　　I　didn't　want　to　kill　this　room　full　of　harmless　
children！　　I　didn't　want　to　lose　everything　I'd　gained　in　a　lifetime　of　sacrifice　and　denial！　
I　wouldn't。　　She　couldn't　make　me。　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
14　

The　scent　was　the　problem；　the　hideously　appealing　scent　of　her　blood。　　If　there　
was　only　some　way　to　resist？if　only　another　gust　of　fresh　air　could　clear　my　head。　
Bella　Swan　shook　out　her　long；　thick；　mahogany　hair　in　my　direction。　
Was　she　insane？　　It　was　as　if　she　were　encouraging　the　monster！　　Taunting　him。　
There　was　no　friendly　breeze　to　blow　the　smell　away　from　me　now。　　All　would　
soon　be　lost。　
No；　there　was　no　helpful　breeze。　　But　I　didn't　have　to　breathe。　
I　stopped　the　flow　of　air　through　my　lungs；　the　relief　was　instantaneous；　but　
incomplete。　　I　still　had　the　memory　of　the　scent　in　my　head；　the　taste　of　it　on　the　back　of　
my　tongue。　　I　wouldn't　be　able　to　resist　even　that　for　long。　　But　perhaps　I　could　resist　for　
an　hour。　　One　hour。　　Just　enough　time　to　get　out　of　this　room　full　of　victims；　victims　that　
maybe　didn't　have　to　be　victims。　　If　I　could　resist　for　one　short　hour。　
It　was　an　uncomfortable　feeling；　not　breathing。　　My　body　did　not　need　oxygen；　
but　it　went　against　my　instincts。　　I　relied　on　scent　more　than　my　other　senses　in　times　of　
stress。　　It　led　the　way　in　the　hunt；　it　was　the　first　warning　in　case　of　danger。　　I　did　not　
often　came　across　something　as　dangerous　as　I　was；　but　self…preservation　was　just　as　
strong　in　my　kind　as　it　was　in　the　average　human。　
Uncomfortable；　but　manageable。　　More　bearable　than　smelling　her　and　not　
sinking　my　teeth　through　that　fine；　thin；　see…through　skin　to　the　hot；　wet；　pulsing—　
An　hour！　　Just　one　hour。　　I　must　not　think　of　the　scent；　the　taste。　
The　silent　girl　kept　her　hair　between　us；　leaning　forward　so　that　it　spilled　across　
her　folder。　　I　couldn't　see　her　face；　to　try　to　read　the　emotions　in　her　clear；　deep　eyes。　
Was　this　why　she'd　let　her　tresses　fan　out　between　us？　　To　hide　those　eyes　from　me？　　Out　
of　fear？　　Shyness？　　To　keep　her　secrets　from　me？　
My　former　irritation　at　being　stymied　by　her　soundless　thoughts　was　weak　and　
pale　in　comparison　to　the　need—and　the　hate—that　possessed　me　now。　　For　I　hated　this　
frail　woman…child　beside　me；　hated　her　with　all　the　fervor　with　which　I　clung　to　my　
former　self；　my　love　of　my　family；　my　dreams　of　being　something　better　than　what　I　
was？　　Hating　her；　hating　how　she　made　me　feel—it　helped　a　little。　　Yes；　the　irritation　I'd　
felt　before　was　weak；　but　it；　too；　helped　a　little。　　I　clung　to　any　emotion　that　distracted　me　
from　imagining　what　she　would　taste　like？　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
15　

Hate　and　irritation。　　Impatience。　　Would　the　hour　never　pass？　
And　when　the　hour　ended？　　Then　she　would　walk　out　of　this　room。　　And　I　would　
do　what？　
I　could　introduce　myself。　　Hello；　my　name　is　Edward　Cullen。　　May　I　walk　you　to　
your　next　class？　
She　would　say　yes。　　It　would　be　the　polite　thing　to　do。　　Even　already　fearing　me；　
as　I　suspected　she　did；　she　would　follow　convention　and　walk　beside　me。　　It　should　be　
easy　enough　to　lead　her　in　the　wrong　direction。　　A　spur　of　the　forest　reached　out　like　a　
finger　to　touch　the　back　corner　of　the　parking　lot。　　I　could　tell　her　I'd　forgotten　a　book　in　
my　car？　
Would　anyone　notice　that　I　was　the　last　person　she'd　been　seen　with？　　It　was　
raining；　as　usual；　two　dark　raincoats　heading　the　wrong　direction　wouldn't　pique　too　
much　interest；　or　give　me　away。　
Except　that　I　was　not　the　only　student　who　was　aware　of　her　today—though　no　
one　was　as　blisteringly　aware　as　I　was。　　Mike　Newton；　in　particular；　was　conscious　of　
every　shift　in　her　weight　as　she　fidgeted　in　her　chair—she　was　uncomfortable　so　close　to　
me；　just　as　anyone　would　be；　just　as　I'd　expected　before　her　scent　had　destroyed　all　
charitable　concern。　　Mike　Newton　would　notice　if　she　left　the　classroom　with　me。　
If　I　could　last　an　hour；　could　I　last　two？　
I　flinched　at　the　pain　of　the　burning。　
She　would　go　home　to　an　empty　house。　　Police　Chief　Swan　worked　a　full　day。　　I　
knew　his　house；　as　I　knew　every　house　in　the　tiny　town。　　His　home　was　nestled　right　up　
against　thick　woods；　with　no　close　neighbors。　　Even　if　she　had　time　to　scream；　which　she　
would　not；　there　would　be　no　one　to　hear。　
That　would　be　the　responsible　way　to　deal　with　this。　　I'd　gone　seven　decades　
without　human　blood。　　If　I　held　my　breath；　I　could　last　two　hours。　　And　when　I　had　her　
alone；　there　would　be　no　chance　of　anyone　else　getting　hurt。　　And　no　reason　to　rush　
through　the　experience；　the　monster　in　my　head　agreed。　
It　was　sophistry　to　think　that　by　saving　the　nineteen　humans　in　this　room　with　
effort　and　patience；　I　would　be　less　a　monster　when　I　killed　this　innocent　girl。　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
16　

Though　I　hated　her；　I　knew　my　hatred　was　unjust。　　I　knew　that　what　I　really　hated　
was　myself。　　And　I　would　hate　us　both　so　much　more　when　she　was　dead。　
I　made　it　through　the　hour　in　this　way—imagining　the　best　ways　to　kill　her。　　I　
tried　to　avoid　imagining　the　actual　act。　　That　might　be　too　much　for　me；　I　might　lose　this　
battle　and　end　up　killing　everyone　in　sight。　　So　I　planned　strategy；　and　nothing　more。　　It　
carried　me　through　the　hour。　
Once；　toward　the　very　end；　she　peeked　up　at　me　through　the　fluid　wall　of　her　hair。　
I　could　feel　the　unjustified　hatred　burning　out　of　me　as　I　met　her　gaze—see　the　reflection　
of　it　in　her　frightened　eyes。　　Blood　painted　her　cheek　before　she　could　hide　in　her　hair　
again；　and　I　was　nearly　undone。　
But　the　bell　rang。　　Saved　by　the　bell—how　cliché。　　We　were　both　saved。　　She；　
saved　from　death。　　I；　saved　for　just　a　short　time　from　being　the　nightmarish　creature　I　
feared　and　loathed。　
I　couldn't　walk　as　slowly　as　I　should　as　I　darted　from　the　room。　　If　anyone　had　
been　looking　at　me；　they　might　have　suspected　that　there　was　something　not　right　about　
the　way　I　moved。　　No　one　was　paying　attention　to　me。　　All　human　thoughts　still　swirled　
around　the　girl　who　was　condemned　to　die　in　little　more　than　an　hour's　time。　
I　hid　in　my　car。　
I　didn't　like　to　think　of　myself　having　to　hide。　　How　cowardly　that　sounded。　　But　
it　was　unquestionably　the　case　now。　
I　didn't　have　enough　discipline　left　to　be　around　humans　now。　　Focusing　so　much　
of　my　efforts　on　not　killing　one　of　them　left　me　no　resources　to　resist　the　others。　　What　a　
waste　that　would　be。　　If　I　were　to　give　in　to　the　monster；　I　might　as　well　make　it　worth　the　
defeat。　
I　played　a　CD　of　music　that　usually　calmed　me；　but　it　did　little　for　me　now。　　No；　
what　helped　most　now　was　the　cool；　wet；　clean　air　that　drifted　with　the　light　rain　through　
my　open　windows。　　Though　I　could　remember　the　scent　of　Bella　Swan's　blood　with　
perfect　clarity；　inhaling　the　clean　air　was　like　washing　out　the　inside　of　my　body　from　its　
infection。　
I　was　sane　again。　　I　could　think　again。　　And　I　could　fight　again。　　I　could　fight　
against　what　I　didn't　want　to　be。　
？　2008　Stephenie　Meyer　
　
17　

I　didn't　have　to　go　to　her　home。　　I　didn't　have　to　kill　her。　　Obviously；　I　was　a　
rational；　thinking　creature；　and　I　had　a　choice。　　There　was　always　a　choice。　
It　hadn't　felt　that　way　in　the　classroom？but　I　was　away　from　her　now。　　Perhaps；　
if　I　avoided　her　very；　very　carefully；　there　was　no　need　for　my　life　to　change。　　I　had　
things　ordered　the　way　I　liked　them　now。　　Why　should　I　let　some　aggravating　and　
delicious　nobody　ruin　that？　
I　didn't　have　to　disappoint　my　father。　　I　didn't　have　to　cause　my　mother　stress；　
worry？pain。　　Yes；　it　would　hurt　my　adopted　mother；　too。　　And　Esme　was　so　gentle；　so　
tender　and　soft。　　Causing　someone　like　Esme　pain　was　truly　inexcusable。　
How　ironic　that　I'd　wanted　to　protect　this　human　girl　from　the　paltry；　toothless　
threat　of　Jessica　Stanley's　snide　thoughts。　　I　was　the　last　person　who　would　ever　stand　as　
a　protector　for　Isabella　Swan。　　She　would　never　need　protection　from　anything　more　than　
she　needed　it　from　me。　
Where　was　Alice；　I　suddenly　wondered？　　Hadn't　she　seen　me　killing　the　Swan　
girl　in　a　multitude　of　ways？　　Why　hadn't　she　come　to　help—to　stop　me　or　help　me　clean　
up　the　evidence；　whichever？　　Was　she　so　absorbed　with　watching　for　trouble　with　Jasper　
that　she'd　missed　this　much　more　horrific　possibility？　　Was　I　stronger　than　I　thought？　
Would　I　really　not　have　done　anything　to　the　girl？　
No。　　I　knew　that　wasn't　true。　　Alice　must　be　concentrating　on　Jasper　very　hard。　
I　searched　in　the　direction　I　knew　she　would　be；　in　the　small　building　used　for　
English　classes。　　It　did　not　take　me　long　to　locate　her　famili