I found myself seated in a luxurious leather chair, patiently waiting for what seemed like an eternity.
It had been over nine hours since I had taken an action that I never anticipated I would. The thought of doing nothing weighed heavily on my mind, and I couldn't shake it off.
The vivid memories of Edward's mother pleading with me to save her son played on a loop in my mind's eye as I sat waiting.
As well as the startling discovery, she revealed.
–––
The Masons had been familiar faces in my life for several years, mere acquaintances who occasionally brought young Edward to the hospital where I had dedicated nearly a decade to.
They were a pleasant enough family, their love for their only child evident in every interaction. Edward reciprocated that love with all his heart. But as with most things in life, no one emerges unscathed from its treacherous grip.
On that fateful day, June 15th, 1918, the Cullen family arrived at the hospital, displaying symptoms of the Spanish influenza.
The disease had ensnared them in its clutches, relentlessly deteriorating their health despite my best efforts.
The first to succumb to the illness was Edward Mason Sr. He passed away peacefully in his sleep, his final hours consumed by delirium induced by the fever. The following morning, Elizabeth Mason teetered on the brink of death herself. It was sheer luck that I happened to be by her bedside, assessing her condition when she mustered the strength to confide in me.
"I know what you are, Dr. Cullen," she wheezed, her breaths labored and lips parched.
I looked down at her, confusion etched on my face. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mason?" I questioned, hoping to grasp the meaning behind her cryptic words.
A whimsical smile danced on her lips as she replied, "Don't attempt to deceive me, Dr. Cullen. I know your true nature." Her accusation hung in the air, and I discreetly scanned the hospital ward, ensuring no one overheard her revelation.
Returning my gaze to her, I adopted a solicitous tone and inquired, "And what am I, Mrs. Mason?"
Summoning the last vestiges of her strength, she used her elbows to prop herself up from the bed, fixing her eyes on mine as if peering into the depths of my soul. With a resolute tone, she uttered two simple words that sent a chill down my spine, "A vampire."
I involuntarily gulped out of reflex.
"You're not in your right mind, Mrs. Mason. You must rest and focus on getting better," I urged gently, attempting to guide her back onto the bed.
However, she gripped my hand tightly like a vise, her nails clawing at my stone like skin. "Do not lie!" she exclaimed sternly, her unwavering gaze never leaving mine.
"My family has known of your kind's existence for generations," she continued, her eyes momentarily losing focus before she drew a deep breath and resumed her account.
"My grandfather regaled me with stories in childhood. Generations before our arrival in America, an ancestor and his brother were adopted by a mysterious man who saved them from certain death after their town was ravaged by an attack. He raised them as his own, and together, they journeyed across many lands until he brought them to England, where they eventually settled."
Her narrative consumed my thoughts in an instant.
'Could it be?' I wondered, my mind filled with wonder and intrigue.
Her story began to align with one that I was intimately acquainted with.
As I looked down at her, I witnessed her life slowly slipping away from her eyes.
Kneeling by her bedside, urgency lacing my voice, I posed the only question that mattered at that moment.
"What is your maiden name?" I implored.
A soft smile graced her lips as she whispered, "Grey..." Her eyes grew vacant, and the last remnants of air escaped her lungs.
The grip she had on my hand gradually weakened until her hand lay limp in mine. Slowly, I lowered her hand onto the bed, my mind racing with a torrent of thoughts.
"She was a Grey, a descendant of Adam's adoptive family," I silently thought.
Rising to my feet, I strode purposefully across the hospital towards the ward housing the other patients afflicted by the influenza. Passing rows of beds and gaunt faces, the cramped space filled with the symphony of suffering, I finally reached my destination—the room where Edward lay. Drawing the white curtain closed, I turned to face him. It was already evident that he was beyond any help I could offer. The young man emitted a low groan as he clutched at his blanket, beads of sweat glistening on his feverish face.
Kneeling beside his bed, I studied him intently.
I had watched Edward grow from a young boy into the young man lying before me now. To discover that he was a descendant of Adam's adoptive family added a layer of complexity to the situation.
Uncertainty and doubt plagued my mind. What was the right course of action? Could I simply stand by and let him succumb to this illness?
——
I blinked, attempting to push the memories aside, as I saw Edward's eyes flutter open.
He lay perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the ceiling of my home.
Then, slowly, his eyes shifted to meet mine, and I was struck by the sight of his blood-red irises and the unmistakable panic etched on his face.
Slowly, I raised my hands.
"It's good to see you awake, Edward." I said calmingly.
"Dr Cullen?" Edward asked in confusion. "What's happening?"
I took a moment to think of what I was to say.
"Ahh!" Edward yelped as he put his hands to his ears.
I sat forward in a panic.
"Edward, are you Alr~" I tried to get out but was interrupted by Edward's panicked words.
"The…voices!" Edward managed to get out through gritted teeth.
'The voices?' I thought in confusion.
We were currently in my home in the Gold Coast district of Chicago.
The buildings were side by side in rows.
But using my own hearing, I couldn't hear anything through the thick brick walls but soft murmurs from my neighbors, which is why I chose this place. It was quiet.
"Ahhg!!" Edward yelped again.
"Edward, you need to tell me what is happening so I can help you." I said, standing to my feet.
"People's voices…they are in my head."
________________________
Please let me know what you think of this chapter.
Also, it's 1933 not 35. That was a typo.