I sit in the attic, dust drifting lazily in the sunshine around me. I hear Jasper and Emmett in the other room, quietly discussing legend after legend, pondering over every nuance of each sentence. Their voices blur together, and I slump further down the wall. In ten minutes Jasper will be at my side, his cold fingers at my forehead and his soothing voice at my ear. He will rub my back and talk quietly about what they've found, trying to sound optimistic. After a few minutes I will thank him, telling him that my head is feeling much better, and he can go back to work. Of course he knows I am lying, but we both realize that there is nothing to be done. He will kiss my forehead and walk quietly out of the room, and I will hear the soft thud of books opening on the table. I know this even without my visions, for this is what he's done every hour for the past four days.

I try to concentrate on their voices to block out the dull throb inside my head, but it's impossible. Every time I close my eyes, I am assaulted with blurry grey images that are hopelessly impossible to comprehend. Yet each time I can't help but desperately try to make out something – anything – until my head aches with weariness. Even when my eyes are open, the images hover in the background, fatiguing and distracting me, sometimes even rushing up to obscure my vision completely. My head aches like kingdom come, but as I sit huddled against the wall, there is yet a worse ache.

I tell myself I'm up here because of my head. I'm up here trying to be productive, trying to make out something that might help Bella. I'm up here because the closer I get to the fetus, the more my head spins and smarts and I get a rush of nausea like I've never felt before. I think they all believe it, for what I'm saying is true, in a sense. Heaven knows I've told myself this so many times, even I've started to believe it.

But, in truth, I'm up here because there is an even worse pain. Something so terrible I might go crazy if I had to endure it. It is the pain of looking into Bella's white face and knowing that she is slowly dying, hour by hour. It is Carlisle's bitter helplessness, Esme's well-concealed grief. It is seeing the flames of anger and desperation deep in Edward's eyes. It is feeling the chill of death hover around the corners of the room, just waiting to claim the sister I love so dearly.

Headache. Heartache.

I slump against the wall and close my eyes, welcoming the blurry grey images that rush up and consume me.

Author's Note: I wrote this because I was pretty depressed not seeing more of Alice in BD - she had a lot more depth in the other books. Please review - I really appreciate any advice you guys would have! Thanks!