Chapter Text
Forks was very quiet at night. It was quiet because people couldn’t make out the small sounds. For Carlisle Cullen, however, it was the exact opposite. The silence made all the small sounds stand out. The rhythm of raindrops running down the drain, someone tapping their finger on a table three kilometers away, and the blood pumped by a heart…
Unlike humans, Carlisle could always hear these sounds, but he had learned to ignore them. The very nature of his existence told him he had to be aware of sounds and smells. If he couldn’t resist this dangerous nature, he wouldn’t be able to practice medicine.
He couldn’t remember the day he first noticed Charlie Swan’s heartbeat as different from everyone else’s. Perhaps there had never been a specific day. Charlie came to the hospital often. As the town sheriff, he was responsible for drunken brawls, hunting accidents, and traffic accidents. Every time he came, he would speak briefly.
“Hello, Doctor.” or
“We’re troubling you again.”
Charlie made eye contact while he spoke. This seemed strange to Carlisle. Vampires looked beautiful to attract humans, but (perhaps for evolutionary reasons) very few humans could look at their faces for very long. They would unconsciously look away. Perhaps it was because if they looked a little longer, they might see the monster underneath. Despite this, Charlie didn’t look away when he spoke. Carlisle admired that feature of him.
It all started three days ago.
Charlie had come to the hospital that afternoon. He was holding a cloth to his cut eyebrow.
“I had to break up a fight.”
He smiled shyly as he explained how he’d gotten the cut.
“While I was on duty.”
Carlisle put on his gloves.
Alcohol. Cotton. Antiseptic.
It was going to be a simple procedure. Something he’d done thousands of times. As his fingers cleaned around the wound, Charlie wrinkled his nose involuntarily.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Charlie chuckled softly.
“It just hurts.”
It hurts. It’s bleeding.
Those two ordinary words made his heart flutter, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He was moving slowly to extend his time with the sheriff. As the cotton in his hand turned red, Carlisle’s fingers paused for a moment.
“Is something wrong?”
Charlie watched the doctor’s reaction. Carlisle blinked.
“No.”
His voice came out professional. As always.
The cotton was thrown in the trash. A new gauze pad, a bandage and the procedure was complete.
Charlie stood up.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Carlisle smiled.
“Have a good evening, Sheriff.”
The door closed. Their usual routine was complete. Carlisle returned to his work and continued treating his patients.
When evening came, his feet had carried him back to that room. All day long, he’d been catching the scent of that tiny piece of cotton in the trash can. He walked over and looked inside the bin. The white cotton, covered in red, was just sitting there.
Everyday medical waste. He saw hundreds of them every day. Why was today any different?
He tidied up his desk, put away his files, and placed his pen back in its holder. The nurse on duty would be there in 15 minutes to take out the trash, and this torment would finally end. He left the room and began walking down the hallway.
Three.
Four.
Five.
He stopped on his sixth step.
He didn’t even realize he had stopped. It was as if there was a huge void inside his head. Instinctively, he turned back. He opened the door again. Even without the white light from the fluorescent lamp, he knew exactly where the trash can was. His trembling fingers lifted the lid.
He was just going to look. He would take one last look at the thing that had been haunting him so much, then go home.
Cotton was there. It was tiny. The red on it had begun to turn slightly brown. He replayed in his mind the image of Charlie’s split eyebrow and the color of the blood flowing from it. That blood had trickled down from the man's beautiful eyebrows to his cheek. If he hadn’t wiped it away with a tissue, it might have trickled all the way down to his lips or neck.
Carlisle’s mouth was so dry that he had to swallow. He didn’t know when he’d picked up the cotton ball between his fingers. When he heard the nurse approaching, instead of tossing it in the trash, he shoved it into his pocket. When the nurse came in, she wished him good evening, he replied and walked out of the room. He was trying to keep his face still, but the corners of his lips were twitching with excitement.
When he got home, no one was there. Alice and Jasper were out hunting. Rosalie and Emmett were out. Edward was with Bella. Esme was in the out on the patio. Carlisle went straight to his office. He quickly took the cotton out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. He settled into his chair and focused on the treasure he had stolen. For two and a half hours, he did nothing but stare at the cotton. In contrast to his rigid body, his mind was working nonstop.
First, he would press his nose against the cotton and inhale its scent. Then he would put it in his mouth and chew it until the cotton turned white again. Then he would go to Charlie’s house and devour the poor man before he even had a chance to figure out what was happening. The excitement born of his twisted thoughts made his hands tremble. Hunger, lust, and shame had mixed together, turning into a kind of poison.
Carlisle was a vampire who had been alive for three centuries. He had experienced everything life had to offer and had forged his own path and philosophy. He had sworn never to take a human life or drink human blood. So far, he had never had any trouble sticking to that vow. Charlie Swan was a police officer in his early forties and moreover, he was Bella’s father. What was happening made no sense.