It was 1918, and Chicago was suffocating under the relentless grip of the Spanish Influenza.

The epidemic showed no mercy — patients collapsing in pristine hospital beds, lifeless eyes staring at the sterile ceiling, and the constant, gnawing fear that one day, you would lie among them, skin pale and cold, the life draining away.

As a young nurse’s apprentice, your duties were overwhelming, but you tried your best to bring comfort where medicine could not. One ward in particular weighed heavily on you: one that included Edward. Seventeen, like you, frail and pale, every shallow breath a fight against the disease that ravaged his body.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen moved efficiently among the patients — checking vitals, administering treatments — while you hovered nearby, smoothing hair, whispering soothing words, offering what little warmth you could. You held Edward’s hand in yours, your touch meant to ease the terror etched into his young face. He clung to your presence, as if it tethered him to the world.

When Dr. Cullen called you away to fetch fresh sheets for another patient, you obeyed, leaving Edward momentarily. But as you returned, your stomach dropped into a churning pit of horror.

The ward was quiet, too quiet.

There, in the dim light of flickering lanterns, Edward lay on the bed — but not as you remembered him. His body trembled, eyes wide, unfocused, glimmering with both fear and disbelief.

And Carlisle.. Carlisle had changed.

The doctor’s fangs pierced Edward’s delicate neck, and the young boy flinched under the bite, helpless against the foreign surge coursing through him. Carlisle’s strength and precision were terrifying, yet controlled: he drew venom into Edward, then pulled back before fully overwhelming him.

Your breath caught. Sheets slipped from your hands, tumbling to the floor. You froze, staring as though the world had stopped, trapped in a tableau of impossible horror.

Edward’s pulse, once faint, now throbbed unnaturally. His wide eyes locked onto yours, a silent question — a pleading — as if he already knew the life he had, and the life that was about to begin, would never be the same again.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was watch.