“You need to hunt,” Carlisle demanded.
Edward sat in the hallway, self-exiled from the room Bella occupied alone. He shook his head slowly. He felt lethargic. Even keeping his eyes open sucked the energy from his body. “I can’t leave her.”
“You will leave her.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Edward muttered.
“You’re starving. How long has it been?”
“Not long. Three weeks, I think.” His memory was becoming fuzzy. He rubbed his eyes vigorously, as if it would somehow help.
“Edward, you’re going to kill her. I know you don’t want that.”
“I don’t want her to die, but I can’t . . .,” he groaned. “I’ve never felt so out of control.”