Night 52: M111-M120 Hallway
When the intercom rang through the cold room and the lights shut off in time with the click of the unlocking door, Edward remained where he was, staring at the space where the liquefied dinner had been sitting. For the second time that day, he wondered if he could starve here. Being in no condition to hunt and having no energy to keep the rotten, foul-smelling bottled blood down, it seemed possible. The thirst was now conquering the pain of his body, burning away any further attempts to mutter words.
An animalistic desire to chew one of his hands popped up in his mind. The burns were terribly, horribly itchy and red and hot, covered under thick layers of bandages now stained yellow.
The darkness was suffocating. Edward wasn't sure what he was waiting for, what he was expecting to happen. Hope wasn't enough - hope that Bella would listen to him anyway, that Venom would move fast enough and be enough to protect her, even in such a short distance. And what would he do when she was here? Stare at the blood beating underneath her skin and mutter unintelligibly?
The best he could do was an accurate imitation of a gibbering madman. How quaint.
An animalistic desire to chew one of his hands popped up in his mind. The burns were terribly, horribly itchy and red and hot, covered under thick layers of bandages now stained yellow.
The darkness was suffocating. Edward wasn't sure what he was waiting for, what he was expecting to happen. Hope wasn't enough - hope that Bella would listen to him anyway, that Venom would move fast enough and be enough to protect her, even in such a short distance. And what would he do when she was here? Stare at the blood beating underneath her skin and mutter unintelligibly?
The best he could do was an accurate imitation of a gibbering madman. How quaint.