𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑, paul lahote ✓

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

"Rosalie said she's human," he told the vampire, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "Are you sure?"

"She was bleeding out in my arms," Emmett snapped, and this time he was looking directly at Paul. "Her heart stopped. So yeah, I'm sure."

Her heart stopped.

And Paul felt like his was being ripped from his chest.

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After what felt like hours waiting in the staleness of the hospital waiting room, Carlisle came out of the double doors that led to the operating wing. Everyone waiting on Augustine's behalf crowded around him, rapid firing questions on her condition and whether she was even alive or not.

"She lost a blood of blood, but she pulled through," he said, and the usual calmness in his voice seemed strained. He didn't let any other details shine through, and Paul had a feeling it was worse than what he was letting on. "She's alive; that's what matters."

Paul nearly fell over on his side in relief. She was alive, and that fact alone was enough to momentarily calm his urge to go hunt down whoever was in the woods with her.

"Can we see her?" Emmett was quick to ask.

But, Carlisle must've seen the sort of frenzied look in his eye and shook his head. "You should go home, get something to eat," he said, remembering that there were humans loitering around.

Emmett started to shake. "You can't stop me from—"

"Emmett," Carlisle reprimanded, using his hand to pat his shoulder comfortingly, "you can't see her if you haven't eaten, especially now."

Especially now, because she was human and the smell of her blood up close could possibly set him off. He seemed to realize this, coiling away from the blond doctor's grip and storming out of the hospital with heavy steps.

Paul was prepared to face the same tune as Emmett did, given that it was now the early hours of the morning and visiting hours had well been over. However, Carlisle caught his gaze with ease. "Down that hall," he said, pointing to another set of double doors beside the ones he'd just come from. "She's in room twenty two, you can't miss it."

The Lahote boy refrained from snapping at the man, refrained from telling him that he could've scented her out to find her— he'd never miss it. But, with what little strength he had left, he put his hand forward. "Thank you," he mumbled, never thinking the day would come where he'd show gratitude towards a bloodsucker. 

Carlisle only smiled, shaking the boy's hand. "Go on, I'll finish up her chart out here," he said, before turning to approach the charge nurse's desk and acquiring a clipboard.

But Paul didn't move, his feet stuck to the floor as he stared at the doors, afraid of what he'd find. A hand on his shoulder blade, and suddenly Sam was at his side. "We'll be out here if you need us," he said, gesturing to Jared and Embry, the boys who'd stuck around the entire time. Sam had forced Seth to head home when the clock reached midnight, knowing he still had a curfew and the girl he idolized certainly wasn't going anywhere.

Turning to Sam, the shifter swallowed his pride. "Could you come with?" he asked, though he wasn't looking at the man. "Just so I don't— y'know," unexpectedly phase in the tiny ass room.

And yeah, maybe that was his reasoning, or maybe it was because he was too scared to admit he just needed support.

Either way, Sam masked his surprise easily, merely marching forward to wrench open the door. Paul's body kickstarted into gear, instantly filtering through the doorway and started off towards the room that housed her.

And when he did, he was glad Sam's hand rooted him in place to keep him from quite literally phasing forward.

There she was, the literal light of his life, looking paler than she normally did somehow. There was a large bandage poking out from beneath her hospital gown, right on her chest, and it took Paul back to the story she told him of how she died. Where the stab wound was. Tubes were connected to her, and if it weren't from the steady rise and fall of her chest, Paul would've thought she was dead. Really dead.

Her scent was clearer now, he noticed. Gone was the slightly muted tang of citrus; now, he was able to tell that what he was smelling the entire time was grapefruit.

"She's looks so small," he mumbled, feet carrying him towards the hospital bed. He didn't even want to touch her, in fear of hurting her. She was human now, and that made her fragile— especially in a state like this. "Who would do this to her, Sam? She's so good."

"No idea," Sam responded, now lingering in the doorway to give the shifter some space, "but whoever it was will be dealt with, I promise you that. She's one of us, Paul."

The Lahote boy merely nodded, willing himself to look away from his Imprint's frail stature.

"I call dibs on ripping the fucker's head off."

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[ wyn's note ]

:(

no like, i apologize for putting our babies through it... and emmett ugh i just wanna give him a hug.

on the bright side, double update today LOL!

until the next one, chapter 50!! all my love xx