Spitefic: Blindsight
Title: Blindsight
Author: gehayi
Fandom(s): New Moon
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,864
Chapter Inspiration: Chapter 2 - Stitches
Author’s Note: And now...I kind of have to take on the religious bit.
As a note, blindsight is a real phenomenon, referring to a condition where a person can’t see objects in a certain part of their field of vision but is able to react to what’s there, just the same. It seemed to sum up how Bella reacts to other people’s thoughts and feelings.)
* * * * * * *
“That’s the real problem, isn’t it?” I guessed. “That’s why he’s being so difficult about me.”
Carlisle stared at me in disbelief. “He’s trying to guarantee your eternal happiness, Bella.”
“Without him,” I said bitterly.
Carlisle rubbed his temples as if he had a migraine. “Vampires aren’t truly eternal. We’re immune to physical illness, yes; how can you get sick when your body is already dead? But we can go mad…and many do. We can lose limbs. We can most assuredly be crushed into stony dust and then burned. Do you know what Edward believes happens spiritually when a vampire is destroyed?”
“The soul goes to hell,” I parroted. That seemed to be what Carlisle wanted me to say.
He shook his head. “No. That’s my hope, not Edward’s. I believe that vampires still have souls, although the souls are imprisoned in stone, unable to move on. And I believe that when we are finally killed, our souls are freed and go to the Spirit World where we’ll be judged. If we’ve managed to redeem ourselves...well, I hope that we’ll be allowed into the lowest tier of Paradise. If not…we’ll go to a kind of spiritual prison and suffer agonizing torment caused by our own guilt, our awareness of all our failures. And even that can be temporary...if we repent.”
He peered into my face, clearly hoping to see some flash of understanding. I couldn’t help him. I didn’t understand religion, and never had. He might as well have been trying to explain radar to a goldfish. After a moment or two, a sad expression swept across his face and he continued.
“As I said, that’s my belief. But religiously, I’m more Mormon than Lutheran. Edward is culturally Mormon--you only have to listen to his insistence on family meetings about everything and his devotion to premarital celibacy and paternalistic attitudes, not to mention his resolute focus on things like Family Game Night, to know that--but he’s not religiously Mormon. He believes what vampires have believed for centuries: that we are either humans whose souls have been transformed into something demonic-in which case we will go to an eternal and nightmarishly hideous Hell when we die for good-or that when we’re transformed, our souls are annihilated. Wiped out, as if they had never been. And that when our bodies are destroyed, we face oblivion.
“Edward does not expect to go on to an afterlife because he doesn’t believe that he has a soul that can go on to an afterlife. No hope. No peace. No eventual reunion with his mother; no chance to make reparation to his victims. And definitely not eternal happiness with you. Simply...not being. It torments him.
“Edward believes that turning you would destroy what makes you you. That what would be left would look like you and talk like you--but it would be no more you than a talking doll.
“And you asking him to turn you...you’re asking him to commit murder twice over, Bella. To kill your body and obliterate your soul.” He frowned. “It’s an incredibly selfish thing to demand of someone you claim to love.”
“I just want to be with him forever!” I wailed. “Why is that so hard to understand?”
“What if you were a vampire and then Edward died?” he retorted. “Say that Edward is right and there’s no afterlife for soulless monsters. What would you do with the rest of ‘forever’? Try to kill yourself so that you could be with him? That wouldn’t work; even if you succeeding in dying, you’d be soulless. No afterlife for you or for Edward.”
“Why are you being so mean?” I demanded, trying not to scream or cry and failing. My arm was no longer numb; in fact, it felt as if it were being stabbed by a billion red-hot needles.
“Because you haven’t thought this through,” he said quietly. “You’re eighteen, Bella. That’s too young to be thinking about disowning your family, throwing away your chance of Heaven, and becoming a cannibal for the rest of your existence. You haven’t thought about what it would do to your parents to if you faked your own death or disappeared. You certainly haven’t thought of what Edward believes, or of what it will do to him if he or a member of this family turns you. All you’re seeing is the glamour. You’re not thinking about what it means to regard human beings both as people and as food, or about going mad with thirst--plenty of fledglings do, and most never recover--or about living the life of a fugitive because you can’t stay in one place too long. You haven’t thought about any of the costs. You just want to be pretty and rich.” His voice was sad, as if I’d let him down.
“That’s not true,” I moaned. God, my arm was killing me!
Rosalie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen then. I blinked at her. Had she been here earlier? Or was I just seeing things?
She glanced at Carlisle’s doctor’s bag and then at me. “Carlisle, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Her arm was cut up,” Carlisle said, sounding defensive. “I had to operate-”
“In a kitchen? Carlisle, you are not doing battlefield triage! There are hospitals and skilled microsurgeons available. And most of them don’t spend their days wasted, either.”
I must have looked shocked, because she gazed at me and nodded. “Oh, yeah. You never wondered why he’s always so calm? He lives on tranquilizers. Xanax, Ativan, Halcion, Klonopin...and of course that old favorite, Valium. Says it makes it easier for him to be a vampire if he doesn’t have to feel much in the way of emotions. Plus the occasional morphine-and-tranq cocktail when he actually has to do something. If he’s been fucking with your arm, you need to get to a hospital now. I don’t suppose you’re in any shape to call 911? No, didn’t think so. Fine, I’ll do it.” She pulled a cell phone out of her back pocket and punched in the number.
“I’ll lose my license,” Carlisle moaned.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Rosalie grimly. Then she turned her back on both of us and spoke to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, hi, I’d like to report an accident. Lots of broken glass. A girl’s arm got all cut up. Someone tried to fix it--no clue who--but it’s a real mess. There might be damage to the muscles and the nerves.” She glanced at me, her eyes glowing. “And there’s a lot of blood.” She gave the Cullens’ address, and then clicked the phone off.
That’s the last thing I remember before losing consciousness.
***
I woke up in the hospital to find myself being prepped for surgery. As it turned out, there was extensive nerve and muscle damage to my injured arm. Emmett, I heard later, went to see Billy Black, asking him to convince Charlie to let the Cullens pay for anything not covered by insurance. Charlie agreed, but with the proviso that the Cullens avoid me, then and ever after.
Only one Cullen ever broke that agreement, and only once. And it wasn’t Edward.
Rosalie dropped by to see me on the evening before I moved to a convalescent home for six months or so of recuperation and therapy. She didn’t look thrilled to be there, either.
“What do you want?” I was in no mood to be gracious.
She shrugged. “I thought you might have questions.”
As it happened, I did. “Before you showed up, Carlisle was talking about religion and hell and souls--what he believes and what Edward believes. But then you said he was an addict...”
“He is,” she said indifferently. “Carlisle’s thing is being calm, because he believes that a good man would be calm and patient and wise and all the rest of it. And as vampires go, he’s not especially calm. You haven’t seen him when he’s angry--or hungry. He’s brutal. I’ve seen him tear a man in half and smile while he did it.”
I felt my gorge rising. “No. Not Carlisle.”
“Carlisle,” she replied. “He tries to be a nice guy, but...he’s a predator. And he likes it. And he hates that he likes it, do you understand? So he takes masses of drugs so that he can be the virtuous Christian man that he needs to be. He’s not addicted physically, of course, but psychologically-well, don’t get between him and the Xanax, that’s all I’m saying.”
“He’s not a monster!”
“He can’t bear the thought of being a monster,” Rosalie replied. “Or being soulless--to him, that would mean that he was a mockery of everything good. A creation of the Devil, maybe. So he gets high or mellow, and he prays, and he acts the part of the brilliant doctor. Which he isn’t. He sucks as a doctor. About a third of his patients die, and another third get worse under his care. But he needs to believe that he’s helping people. That his existence isn’t a cosmic joke.” She sighed and shook her head.
“I thought that he believed--”
“He believes deeply,” Rosalie said. “And he’s afraid that what he believes isn’t so. Like Edward. Edward wants to believe that he’s soulless, don’t you get that?”
“What!” That was ridiculous. “Why?”
She spoke in a patient tone, as if explaining something to a toddler. “If he’s soulless, he won’t go to hell for torturing and murdering several hundred people. He doesn’t have to worry about eternal suffering. If, on the other hand, there are souls...well, he figures that something equally horrible has to happen to him to balance out everything he's done. That’s why he’s such a control freak. He figures if he controls every little thing that happens, maybe he can stop the bad shit from happening to him--and to his family. Which of course doesn’t work.”
Nausea welled up in my mouth and I had to choke it back. It all made too much sense.
“What about Alice and Jasper?” I croaked. “Are they messed up too?”
Rosalie gave me a “duh!” look. “Alice does everything but warp space-time to ensure that her predictions come true. If what she prophesies happens, she didn’t really belong in the mental institution. And Jasper...well, Jasper gets off on playing with people’s emotions and motivations. It makes him feel like a god. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t decided to make you fall for Edward--and fall so hard that you’d never even think about what you were asking for. He’d think that was very funny. Watching Edward disintegrate after turning you, or seeing you rip your father’s throat out while you were insane with bloodlust...that would be the funniest of all.”
“You make yourselves sound horrible!” I burst out. “Vicious and cruel and selfish and insane-”
“Bella. That’s what monsters are.” Then she shrugged once more. “But don’t worry. Having seen more of you than I’d like in the past six months or so, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with becoming a homicidal cannibal. In fact, I’m not even sure you’ve got a soul to lose.”
Author: gehayi
Fandom(s): New Moon
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,864
Chapter Inspiration: Chapter 2 - Stitches
Author’s Note: And now...I kind of have to take on the religious bit.
As a note, blindsight is a real phenomenon, referring to a condition where a person can’t see objects in a certain part of their field of vision but is able to react to what’s there, just the same. It seemed to sum up how Bella reacts to other people’s thoughts and feelings.)
* * * * * * *
“That’s the real problem, isn’t it?” I guessed. “That’s why he’s being so difficult about me.”
Carlisle stared at me in disbelief. “He’s trying to guarantee your eternal happiness, Bella.”
“Without him,” I said bitterly.
Carlisle rubbed his temples as if he had a migraine. “Vampires aren’t truly eternal. We’re immune to physical illness, yes; how can you get sick when your body is already dead? But we can go mad…and many do. We can lose limbs. We can most assuredly be crushed into stony dust and then burned. Do you know what Edward believes happens spiritually when a vampire is destroyed?”
“The soul goes to hell,” I parroted. That seemed to be what Carlisle wanted me to say.
He shook his head. “No. That’s my hope, not Edward’s. I believe that vampires still have souls, although the souls are imprisoned in stone, unable to move on. And I believe that when we are finally killed, our souls are freed and go to the Spirit World where we’ll be judged. If we’ve managed to redeem ourselves...well, I hope that we’ll be allowed into the lowest tier of Paradise. If not…we’ll go to a kind of spiritual prison and suffer agonizing torment caused by our own guilt, our awareness of all our failures. And even that can be temporary...if we repent.”
He peered into my face, clearly hoping to see some flash of understanding. I couldn’t help him. I didn’t understand religion, and never had. He might as well have been trying to explain radar to a goldfish. After a moment or two, a sad expression swept across his face and he continued.
“As I said, that’s my belief. But religiously, I’m more Mormon than Lutheran. Edward is culturally Mormon--you only have to listen to his insistence on family meetings about everything and his devotion to premarital celibacy and paternalistic attitudes, not to mention his resolute focus on things like Family Game Night, to know that--but he’s not religiously Mormon. He believes what vampires have believed for centuries: that we are either humans whose souls have been transformed into something demonic-in which case we will go to an eternal and nightmarishly hideous Hell when we die for good-or that when we’re transformed, our souls are annihilated. Wiped out, as if they had never been. And that when our bodies are destroyed, we face oblivion.
“Edward does not expect to go on to an afterlife because he doesn’t believe that he has a soul that can go on to an afterlife. No hope. No peace. No eventual reunion with his mother; no chance to make reparation to his victims. And definitely not eternal happiness with you. Simply...not being. It torments him.
“Edward believes that turning you would destroy what makes you you. That what would be left would look like you and talk like you--but it would be no more you than a talking doll.
“And you asking him to turn you...you’re asking him to commit murder twice over, Bella. To kill your body and obliterate your soul.” He frowned. “It’s an incredibly selfish thing to demand of someone you claim to love.”
“I just want to be with him forever!” I wailed. “Why is that so hard to understand?”
“What if you were a vampire and then Edward died?” he retorted. “Say that Edward is right and there’s no afterlife for soulless monsters. What would you do with the rest of ‘forever’? Try to kill yourself so that you could be with him? That wouldn’t work; even if you succeeding in dying, you’d be soulless. No afterlife for you or for Edward.”
“Why are you being so mean?” I demanded, trying not to scream or cry and failing. My arm was no longer numb; in fact, it felt as if it were being stabbed by a billion red-hot needles.
“Because you haven’t thought this through,” he said quietly. “You’re eighteen, Bella. That’s too young to be thinking about disowning your family, throwing away your chance of Heaven, and becoming a cannibal for the rest of your existence. You haven’t thought about what it would do to your parents to if you faked your own death or disappeared. You certainly haven’t thought of what Edward believes, or of what it will do to him if he or a member of this family turns you. All you’re seeing is the glamour. You’re not thinking about what it means to regard human beings both as people and as food, or about going mad with thirst--plenty of fledglings do, and most never recover--or about living the life of a fugitive because you can’t stay in one place too long. You haven’t thought about any of the costs. You just want to be pretty and rich.” His voice was sad, as if I’d let him down.
“That’s not true,” I moaned. God, my arm was killing me!
Rosalie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen then. I blinked at her. Had she been here earlier? Or was I just seeing things?
She glanced at Carlisle’s doctor’s bag and then at me. “Carlisle, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Her arm was cut up,” Carlisle said, sounding defensive. “I had to operate-”
“In a kitchen? Carlisle, you are not doing battlefield triage! There are hospitals and skilled microsurgeons available. And most of them don’t spend their days wasted, either.”
I must have looked shocked, because she gazed at me and nodded. “Oh, yeah. You never wondered why he’s always so calm? He lives on tranquilizers. Xanax, Ativan, Halcion, Klonopin...and of course that old favorite, Valium. Says it makes it easier for him to be a vampire if he doesn’t have to feel much in the way of emotions. Plus the occasional morphine-and-tranq cocktail when he actually has to do something. If he’s been fucking with your arm, you need to get to a hospital now. I don’t suppose you’re in any shape to call 911? No, didn’t think so. Fine, I’ll do it.” She pulled a cell phone out of her back pocket and punched in the number.
“I’ll lose my license,” Carlisle moaned.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Rosalie grimly. Then she turned her back on both of us and spoke to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, hi, I’d like to report an accident. Lots of broken glass. A girl’s arm got all cut up. Someone tried to fix it--no clue who--but it’s a real mess. There might be damage to the muscles and the nerves.” She glanced at me, her eyes glowing. “And there’s a lot of blood.” She gave the Cullens’ address, and then clicked the phone off.
That’s the last thing I remember before losing consciousness.
***
I woke up in the hospital to find myself being prepped for surgery. As it turned out, there was extensive nerve and muscle damage to my injured arm. Emmett, I heard later, went to see Billy Black, asking him to convince Charlie to let the Cullens pay for anything not covered by insurance. Charlie agreed, but with the proviso that the Cullens avoid me, then and ever after.
Only one Cullen ever broke that agreement, and only once. And it wasn’t Edward.
Rosalie dropped by to see me on the evening before I moved to a convalescent home for six months or so of recuperation and therapy. She didn’t look thrilled to be there, either.
“What do you want?” I was in no mood to be gracious.
She shrugged. “I thought you might have questions.”
As it happened, I did. “Before you showed up, Carlisle was talking about religion and hell and souls--what he believes and what Edward believes. But then you said he was an addict...”
“He is,” she said indifferently. “Carlisle’s thing is being calm, because he believes that a good man would be calm and patient and wise and all the rest of it. And as vampires go, he’s not especially calm. You haven’t seen him when he’s angry--or hungry. He’s brutal. I’ve seen him tear a man in half and smile while he did it.”
I felt my gorge rising. “No. Not Carlisle.”
“Carlisle,” she replied. “He tries to be a nice guy, but...he’s a predator. And he likes it. And he hates that he likes it, do you understand? So he takes masses of drugs so that he can be the virtuous Christian man that he needs to be. He’s not addicted physically, of course, but psychologically-well, don’t get between him and the Xanax, that’s all I’m saying.”
“He’s not a monster!”
“He can’t bear the thought of being a monster,” Rosalie replied. “Or being soulless--to him, that would mean that he was a mockery of everything good. A creation of the Devil, maybe. So he gets high or mellow, and he prays, and he acts the part of the brilliant doctor. Which he isn’t. He sucks as a doctor. About a third of his patients die, and another third get worse under his care. But he needs to believe that he’s helping people. That his existence isn’t a cosmic joke.” She sighed and shook her head.
“I thought that he believed--”
“He believes deeply,” Rosalie said. “And he’s afraid that what he believes isn’t so. Like Edward. Edward wants to believe that he’s soulless, don’t you get that?”
“What!” That was ridiculous. “Why?”
She spoke in a patient tone, as if explaining something to a toddler. “If he’s soulless, he won’t go to hell for torturing and murdering several hundred people. He doesn’t have to worry about eternal suffering. If, on the other hand, there are souls...well, he figures that something equally horrible has to happen to him to balance out everything he's done. That’s why he’s such a control freak. He figures if he controls every little thing that happens, maybe he can stop the bad shit from happening to him--and to his family. Which of course doesn’t work.”
Nausea welled up in my mouth and I had to choke it back. It all made too much sense.
“What about Alice and Jasper?” I croaked. “Are they messed up too?”
Rosalie gave me a “duh!” look. “Alice does everything but warp space-time to ensure that her predictions come true. If what she prophesies happens, she didn’t really belong in the mental institution. And Jasper...well, Jasper gets off on playing with people’s emotions and motivations. It makes him feel like a god. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t decided to make you fall for Edward--and fall so hard that you’d never even think about what you were asking for. He’d think that was very funny. Watching Edward disintegrate after turning you, or seeing you rip your father’s throat out while you were insane with bloodlust...that would be the funniest of all.”
“You make yourselves sound horrible!” I burst out. “Vicious and cruel and selfish and insane-”
“Bella. That’s what monsters are.” Then she shrugged once more. “But don’t worry. Having seen more of you than I’d like in the past six months or so, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with becoming a homicidal cannibal. In fact, I’m not even sure you’ve got a soul to lose.”