AN: Thanks SweetLovinCullen for pre-reading.
I'm not being arrogant when I say that I'm intelligent. I believe I was before I my change, but having the ability to think faster and about more things at once also helps. So you'd think I'd be able to say something now; something articulate at least.
But instead, my emotions take over. After years of practicing self-control, of trying to be a blank slate, these past few months seem to have changed me.
"I don't want you here," I state when I can't seem to contain my anger.
"Son-" he begins with a hint of sadness in his tone, but I stop him.
"Don't call me that." I almost spit the words.
He nods slowly. "I apologise," he says as he takes another step forward. "I do it out of habit I suppose," he adds, his slight English accent grating on my nerves. "You were always 'my son' when I mentioned you to Esme."
"Ah, yes. Esme. The woman you changed just to cure your loneliness after I left you?" I ask, albeit sarcastically.
"That's not what-"
"Save it. I'm not interested."
With nothing left to say, I head back to the house, leaving Carlisle alone in the woods.