Edward。　Edward。　My　life　and　his　were　twisted　into　a　single　strand。　Cut　one；　and　you　cut　both。　If　he
  were　gone；　I　would　not　be　able　to　live　through　that。　If　I　were　gone；　he　wouldn't　live　through　it；　either。
  And　a　world　without　Edward　seemed　completely　pointless。　Edward　had　to　exist。
  Jacob—who'd　said　goodbye　to　me　over　and　over　but　kept　coming　back　when　I　needed　him。　Jacob；
  who　I'd　wounded　so　many　times　it　was　criminal。　Would　I　hurt　him　again；　the　worst　way　yet？　He'd　stayed
  for　me；　despite　everything。　Now　all　he　asked　was　that　I　stay　for　him。
  But　it　was　so　dark　here　that　I　couldn't　see　either　of　their　faces。　Nothing　seemed　real。　That　made　it　hard
  not　to　give　up。
  I　kept　pushing　against　the　black；　though；　almost　a　reflex。　I　wasn't　trying　to　lift　it。　I　was　just　resisting。　Not
  allowing　it　to　crush　me　completely。　I　wasn't　Atlas；　and　the　black　felt　as　heavy　as　a　planet；　I　couldn't
  shoulder　it。　All　I　could　do　was　not　be　entirely　obliterated。
  It　was　sort　of　the　pattern　to　my　life—I'd　never　been　strong　enough　to　deal　with　the　things　outside　my
  control；　to　attack　the　enemies　or　outrun　them。　To　avoid　the　pain。　Always　human　and　weak；　the　only　thing
  I'd　ever　been　able　to
  do　was　keep　going。　Endure。　Survive。
  It　had　been　enough　up　to　this　point。　It　would　have　to　be　enough　today。　I　would　endure　this　until　help
  came。
  I　knew　Edward　would　be　doing　everything　he　could。　He　would　not　give　up。　Neither　would　I。
  I　held　the　blackness　of　nonexistence　at　bay　by　inches。
  It　wasn't　enough；　though—that　determination。　As　the　time　ground　on　and　on　and　the　darkness　gained　by
  tiny　eighths　and　sixteenths　of　my　inches；　I　needed　something　more　to　draw　strength　from。
  I　couldn't　pull　even　Edward's　face　into　view。　Not　Jacob's；　not　Alice's　or　Rosalie's　or　Charlie's　or
  Renee's　or　Carlisle's　or　Esme's。。。　Nothing。　It　terrified　me；　and　I　wondered　if　it　was　too　late。
  I　felt　myself　slipping—there　was　nothing　to　hold　on　to。
  No！I　had　to　survive　this。　Edward　was　depending　on　me。　Jacob。　Charlie　Alice　Rosalie　Carlisle　Renee
  Esme。。。
  Renesmee。
  And　then；　though　I　still　couldn't　see　anything；　suddenly　I　could　feel　something。　Like　phantom　limbs；　I
  imagined　I　could　feel　my　arms　again。　And　in　them；　something　small　and　hard　and　very；　very　warm。
  My　baby。　My　little　nudger。
  I　had　done　it。　Against　the　odds；　I　had　been　strong　enough　to　survive　Renesmee；　to　hold　on　to　her　until
  she　was　strong　enough　to　live　without　me。
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  That　spot　of　heat　in　my　phantom　arms　felt　so　real。　I　clutched　it　closer。　It　was　exactly　where　my　heart
  should　be。　Holding　tight　the　warm　memory　of　my　daughter；　I　knew　that　I　would　be　able　to　fight　the
  darkness　as　long　as　I　needed　to。
  The　warmth　beside　my　heart　got　more　and　more　real；　warmer　and　warmer。　Hotter。　The　heat　was　so　real
  it　was　hard　to　believe　that　I　was　imagining　it。
  Hotter。
  Uncomfortable　now。　Too　hot。　Much；　much　too　hot。
  Like　grabbing　the　wrong　end　of　a　curling　iron—my　automatic　response　was　to　drop　the　scorching　thing
  in　my　arms。　But　there　was　nothing　in　my　arms。　My　arms　were　not　curled　to　my　chest。　My　arms　were
  dead　things　lying　somewhere　at　my　side。　The　heat　was　inside　me。
  The　burning　grew—rose　and　peaked　and　rose　again　until　it　surpassed　anything　I'd　ever　felt。
  I　felt　the　pulse　behind　the　fire　raging　now　in　my　chest　and　realized　that　I'd　found　my　heart　again；　just　in
  time　to　wish　I　never　had。　To　wish　that　I'd　embraced　the　blackness　while　I'd　still　had　the　chance。　I　wanted
  to　raise　my　arms　and　claw　my　chest　open　and　rip　the　heart　from　it—anything　to　get　rid　of　this　torture。　But
  I　couldn't　feel　my　arms；　couldn't　move　one　vanished　finger。
  James；　snapping　my　leg　under　his　foot。　That　was　nothing。　That　was　a　soft　place　to　rest　on　a　feather　bed。
  I'd　take　that　now；　a　hundred　times。　A　hundred　snaps。　I'd　take　it　and　be　grateful。
  The　baby；　kicking　my　ribs　apart；　breaking　her　way　through　me　piece　by　piece。　That　was　nothing。　That
  was　floating　in　a　pool　of　cool　water。　I'd　take　it　a　thousand　times。　Take　it　and　be　grateful。
  The　fire　blazed　hotter　and　I　wanted　to　scream。　To　beg　for　someone　to　kill　me　now；　before　I　lived　one
  more　second　in　this　pain。　But　I　couldn't　move　my　lips。　The　weight　was　still　there；　pressing　on　me。
  I　realized　it　wasn't　the　darkness　holding　me　down；　it　was　my　body。　So　heavy。　Burying　me　in　the　flames
  that　were　chewing　their　way　out　from　my　heart　now；　spreading　with　impossible　pain　through　my
  shoulders　and　stomach；　scalding　their　way　up　my　throat；　licking　at　my　face。
  Why　couldn't　I　move？　Why　couldn't　I　scream？　This　wasn't　part　of　the　stories。
  My　mind　was　unbearably　clear—sharpened　by　the　fierce　pain—and　I　saw　the　answer　almost　as　soon　as
  I　could　form　the　questions。
  The　morphine。
  It　seemed　like　a　million　deaths　ago　that　we'd　discussed　it—Edward；　Carlisle；　and　I。　Edward　and　Carlisle
  had　hoped　that　enough　painkillers　would　help　fight　the　pain　of　the　venom。　Carlisle　had　tried　with　Emmett；
  but　the　venom　had　burned　ahead　of　the　medicine；　sealing　his　veins。　There　hadn't　been　time　for　it　to
  spread。
  I'd　kept　my　face　smooth　and　nodded　and　thanked　my　rarely　lucky　stars　that　Edward　could　not　read　my
  mind。
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  Because　I'd　had　morphine　and　venom　together　in　my　system　before；　and　I　knew　the　truth。　I　knew　the
  numbness　of　the　medicine　was　completely　irrelevant　while　the　venom　seared　through　my　veins。　But
  there'd　been　no　way　I　was　going　to　mention　that　fact。　Nothing　that　would　make　him　more　unwilling　to
  change　me。
  I　hadn't　guessed　that　the　morphine　would　have　this　effect—that　it　would　pin　me　down　and　gag　me。　Hold
  me　paralyzed　while　I　burned。
  I　knew　all　the　stories。　I　knew　that　Carlisle　had　kept　quiet　enough　to　avoid　discovery　while　he　burned。　I
  knew　that；　according　to　Rosalie；　it　did　no　good　to　scream。　And　I'd　hoped　that　maybe　I　could　be　like
  Carlisle。　That　I　would　believe　Rosalie's　words　and　keep　my　mouth　shut。　Because　I　knew　that　every
  scream　that　escaped　my　lips　would　torment　Edward。
  Now　it　seemed　like　a　hideous　joke　that　i　was　getting　my　wish　fulfilled。
  If　I　couldn't　scream；　how　could　I　tell　them　to　kill　me？
  All　I　wanted　was　to　die。　To　never　have　been　born。　The　whole　of　my　existence　did　not　outweigh　this
  pain。　Wasn't　worth　living　through　it　for　one　more　heartbeat。
  Let　me　die；　let　me　die；　let　me　die。
  And；　for　a　never…ending　space；　that　was　all　there　was。　Just　the　fiery　torture；　and　my　soundless　shrieks；
  pleading　for　death　to　come。　Nothing　else；　not　even　time。　So　that　made　it　infinite；　with　no　beginning　and　no
  end。　One　infinite　moment　of　pain。
  The　only　change　came　when　suddenly；　impossibly；　my　pain　was　doubled。　The　lower　half　of　my　body；
  deadened　since　before　the　morphine；　was　suddenly　on　fire；　too。　Some　broken　connection　had　been
  healed—knitted　together　by　the　scorching　fingers　of　the　flame。
  The　endless　burn　raqed　on。
  It　could　have　been　seconds　or　days；　weeks　or　years；　but；　eventually；　time　came　to　mean　something
  again。
  Three　things　happened　together；　grew　from　each　other　so　that　I　didn't　know　which　came　first：　time
  restarted；　the　morphine's　weight　faded；　and　I　got　stronger。
  I　could　feel　the　control　of　my　body　come　back　to　me　in　increments；　and　those　increments　were　my　first
  markers　of　the　time　passing。　I　knew　it　when　I　was　able　to　twitch　my　toes　and　twist　my　fingers　into　fists。　I
  knew　it；　but　I　did　not　act　on　it。
  Though　the　fire　did　not　decrease　one　tiny　degree—in　fact；　I　began　to　develop　a　new　capacity　for
  experiencing　it；　a　new　sensitivity　to　appreciate；　separately；　each　blistering　tongue　of　flame　that　licked
  through　my　veins—I　discovered　that　I　could　think　around　it。
  I　could　remember　why　I　shouldn't　scream。　I　could　remember　the　reason　why　I'd　committed　to　enduring
  this　unendurable　agony。　I　could　remember　that；　though　it　felt　impossible　now；　there　was　something　that
  might　be　worth　the　torture。
  This　happened　just　in　time　for　me　to　hold　on　when　the　weights　left　my　body。　To　anyone　watching　me；
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  there　would　be　no　change。　But　for　me；　as　I　struggled　to　keep　the　screams　and　thrashing　locked　up　inside
  my　body；　where　they　couldn't　hurt　anyone　else；　it　felt　like　I'd　gone　from　being　tied　to　the　stake　as　I
  burned；　to　gripping　that　stake　to　hold　myself　in　the　fire。
  I　had　just　enough　strength　to　lie　there　unmoving　while　I　was　charred　alive。
  My　hearing　got　clearer　and　clearer；　and　I　could　count　the　frantic；　pounding　beats　of　my　heart　to　mark　the
  time。
  I　could　count　the　shallow　breaths　that　gasped　through　my　teeth。
  I　could　count　the　low；　even　breaths