I bit a pillow

"Stop acting like I'm not a monster for having agreed to this."
"Edward!" I whispered, really upset now. He was pulling my bright memory through the darkness, staining it. "Don't ever say that."
He didn't open his eyes; it was like he didn't want to see me.
"Look at yourself, Bella. Then tell me I'm not a mon¬ster."
Wounded, shocked, I followed his instruction unthink¬ingly and then gasped.
What had happened to me? I couldn't make sense of the fluffy white snow that clung to my skin. I shook my head, and a cascade of white drifted out of my hair.
I pinched one soft white bit between my fingers. It was a piece of down.
"Why am I covered in feathers?" I asked, confused.
He exhaled impatiently. "I bit a pillow. Or two. That's not what I'm talking about."
Under the dusting of feathers, large purplish bruises were beginning to blossom across the pale skin of my arm.


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