"Why do you hate me?"
He stared at her. For a moment he couldn't seem to find words. Then he said, "I don't hate you."
"You do," said Elena. "I know it's not… not good manners to say it, but I don't care. I know I should be grateful to you for saving me tonight, but I don't care about that, either. I didn't ask you to save me. I don't know why you were even in the graveyard in the first place. And I certainly don't understand why you did it, considering the way you feel about me."
He was shaking his head, but his voice was soft. "I don't hate you."
"From the very beginning, you've avoided me as if I were… were some kind of leper. I tried to be friendly to you, and you threw it back in my face. Is that what a gentleman does when someone tries to welcome him?"
He was trying to say something now, but she swept on, heedless. "You've snubbed me in public time after time; you've humiliated me at school. You wouldn't be speaking to me now if it hadn't been a matter of life or death. Is that what it takes to get a word out of you? Does someone have to nearly be murdered?
"And even now," she continued bitterly, "you don't want me to get anywhere near you. What's the matter with you, Stefan Salvatore, that you have to live this way? That you have to build walls against other people to keep them out? That you can't trust anyone? What's wrong with you?"
"I don't need to," he said quietly, feeling weary and subdued. "I don't need anything else." He whipped around suddenly and felt passionate intensity rise in him again. "You said I was quick—but that's just what I'm not. Have you ever heard the saying 'the quick and the dead,' Elena? Quick means living; it means those who have life. I'm the other half."
"What… powers?" said Elena. A thought was growing in her mind.
"Strength, as you said, and quickness. A sharpening of all the senses, especially at night. Those are the basics. We can also… feel minds. We can sense their presence, and sometimes the nature of their thoughts. We can cast confusion about weaker minds, either to overwhelm them or to bend them to our will. There are others. With enough human blood we can change our shapes, become animals. And the more you kill, the stronger all the Powers become."
"There's no need to force me," said Elena. She could feel her pulse everywhere now; in her wrists and the inside of her elbows—and in her throat. "I've made my decision, Stefan," she said softly, holding his eyes. "I want to."
He swallowed thickly. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"I think I do. You told me how it was with Katherine, Stefan. I want it to be like that with us. I don't mean I want you to change me. But we can share a little without that happening, can't we? I know," she added, even more softly, "how much you loved Katherine. But she's gone now, and I'm here. And I love you, Stefan. I want to be with you."
"You don't know what you're talking about!" He was standing rigid, his face furious, his eyes anguished. "If I once let go, what's to keep me from changing you, or killing you? The passion is stronger than you can imagine. Don't you understand yet what I am, what I can do?"
She stood there and looked at him quietly, her chin raised slightly. It seemed to enrage him.
"Haven't you seen enough yet? Or do I have to show you more? Can't you picture what I might do to you?" He strode over to the cold fireplace and snatched out a long piece of wood, thicker than both Elena's wrists together. With one motion, he snapped it in two like a match stick. "Your fragile bones," he said.
"You will never hurt me," she whispered.
Twilight se parece tanto a esto. fuckyou Stephenie Meyer!
martes, 13 de octubre de 2009
@ martes, octubre 13, 2009 ↑