This could also be titled "Maybe". R&R! I'm a new writer, so constructive criticism is wanted!

Does She Know

Bella had finally drifted into the land of dreams about an hour ago. In some ways, her silence was comforting; I was not unwillingly subjected to her dreams. On the other hand, sometimes I wanted to know about the dreams that elicited her unconscious murmurs.

I loved to come here, at night, to hear her talk. She liked me being here, and I liked the small insight I got out of listening. It was the one time she didn't edit, the one time I could glimpse what went on behind those beautiful brown eyes of hers, 100 Bella truth.

At last, she spoke. "I love you, Edward." That one small sentence, spoken in the black of night, gave me a sense of both grief and elation, a never-ending cycle of the two.

How could she possibly love me? Doesn't she realize how incredibly dangerous I am? Just today, the horrible monster inside me had to be beaten back repeatedly. Every look, every kiss, every look was a taunt to the aching thirst that burned in my throat. And every time, I thought of her cold and still, never to blush or smile again. . . It horrified me to no end. I used the image to chain the inner monster, binding it tightly.

She wants me to change her, but I don't think she realizes what, exactly, that means. She thinks she does, but not nearly all of what she'll be giving up is even on her mind.

She knows she won't have Charlie or Renee, but she will also give up on her friends, on Jessica, Jacob, Angela, Quil, Embry, Sam, Emily, Mike, Ben, Tyler, Eric, almost everyone. Does she not understand how hard it will be to not only stay away, but to know about their whole lives, their children, their grandchildren, their deaths, sicknesses, loves, and hates. . . all without them ever able to know even the tiniest detail about her?

It will be so much more difficult for her, to stay away from her family, no matter how much they want her there. They will expect so much, and she won't be able to do it.

Does she know how hard it will be to try not to murder people, people who can smell like what cooking fish smells like to Charlie?

She shouldn't love me. I'm not worth it. She shouldn't accept the fatc that I kill to live, that I left her, that I tried to take myself out of her world.

But she does. That is my only consolation. She loves me anyway. She risks death to meet me every morning, to kiss me every night, to save me from myself. She loves me anyway.

And maybe . . . MAYBE . . . she does know what she's giving up. Maybe she knows how difficult it will be and how many imperfections I have, and she loves me anyway.

That changes everything.

It doesn't change the difficulty for her later, but it does change the difficulty for me now. Maybe she was almost right that day when she was being interrogated by Jessica; Maybe she loves me as much as I love her. Maybe. Maybe.