Night 50: M111-M120 Hallway
So, her roommate was nice. A nice, ordinary girl... with memories of a serial killer. Nothing to worry about but switching that girl's memory with Bella's face. Absolutely nothing to worry about.
Venom had better be swift; otherwise, there would be no vampire to deliver to. Even the potential meal meant nothing to him - his mind had already firmly attached itself to Bella and devoted all of his energy to fretting. Fretting might have been putting it lightly, however. Maybe obsessing. He didn't like being still, even if it was in nature with his kind. Not now. Not after last night, after seeing her scraped palms. Even such a lackluster injury was not forgivable on his end; the fact that it would have been seemingly impossible to find her through the teleportations was not even considered.
Still his fault. Every spilled drop of blood and every horrid memory she had to retain in this place. The only dependable quality to him was how he consistently failed at being her guardian.
So he fret. And obsessed. And paced silently in front of the door. He didn't care about rings or what they could do or even if he had one. It didn't matter. All he was looking forward to was touching the tips of her fingers to remind himself that she wasn't an illusion and was surviving; in some ways, becoming stronger than him already.
Venom had better be swift; otherwise, there would be no vampire to deliver to. Even the potential meal meant nothing to him - his mind had already firmly attached itself to Bella and devoted all of his energy to fretting. Fretting might have been putting it lightly, however. Maybe obsessing. He didn't like being still, even if it was in nature with his kind. Not now. Not after last night, after seeing her scraped palms. Even such a lackluster injury was not forgivable on his end; the fact that it would have been seemingly impossible to find her through the teleportations was not even considered.
Still his fault. Every spilled drop of blood and every horrid memory she had to retain in this place. The only dependable quality to him was how he consistently failed at being her guardian.
So he fret. And obsessed. And paced silently in front of the door. He didn't care about rings or what they could do or even if he had one. It didn't matter. All he was looking forward to was touching the tips of her fingers to remind himself that she wasn't an illusion and was surviving; in some ways, becoming stronger than him already.