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Chapter 20 New_暮光之城:破晓 Breaking Dawn

 Everything was so clear.

  Sharp. Defined.

  The brilliant light overhead was still blinding-bright, and yet I could plainly see the glowing strands of thefilaments inside the bulb. I could see each color of the rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge ofthe spectrum, an eighth color I had no name for.

  Behind the light, I could distinguish the individual grains in the dark wood ceiling above. In front of it, Icould see the dust motes in the air, the sides the light touched, and the dark sides, distinct and separate.

  They spun like little planets, moving around each other in a celestial dance.

  The dust was so beautiful that I inhaled in shock; the air whistled down my throat, swirling the motes intoa vortex. The action felt wrong. I considered, and realized the problem was that there was no relief tiedto the action. I didn't need the air. My lungs weren't waiting for it. They reacted indifferently to the influx.

  I did not need the air, but I liked it. In it, I could taste the room around me—taste the lovely dust motes,the mix of the stagnant air mingling with the flow of slightly cooler air from the open door. Taste a lushwhiff of silk. Taste a faint hint of something warm and desirable, something that should be moist, butwasn't... That smell made my throat burn dryly, a faint echo of the venom burn, though the scent wastainted by the bite of chlorine and ammonia. And most of all, I could taste analmost-honey-lilac-and-sun-flavored scent that was the strongest thing, the closest thing to me.

  I heard the sound of the others, breathing again now that I did. Their breath mixed with the scent thatwas something just off honey and lilac and sunshine, bringing new flavors. Cinnamon, hyacinth, pear,seawater, rising bread, pine, vanilla, leather, apple, moss, lavender, chocolate.... I traded a dozendifferent comparisons in my mind, but none of them fit exactly. So sweet and pleasant.

  The TV downstairs had been muted, and I heard someone—Rosalie?—shift her weight on the first floor.

  I also heard a faint, thudding rhythm, with a voice shouting angrily to the beat. Rap music? I wasmystified for a moment, and then the sound faded away like a car passing by with the windows rolleddown.

  With a start, I realized that this could be exactly right. Could I hear all the way to the freeway?

  I didn't realize someone was holding my hand until whoever it was squeezed it lightly. Like it had beforeto hide the pain, my body locked down again in surprise. This was not a touch I expected. The skin wasperfectly smooth, but it was the wrong temperature. Not cold.

  After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shockedme even more.

  Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm ofbees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. Iflipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but itdid not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread inmicroscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

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