Heartbeat [Alec Volturi]

Attrition

My first real crime was insurance fraud.

When I was about five, I started joining my father on some of his work trips. It soon became clear to him that within the very nature of my neurological condition and its' obscurity lied a possible gold mine.

It was very simple, he had explained to me. I was to step in front of a car and possibly retain a minor injury from being hit by said car. And if I was not injured, I was to pretend to be. The injury, fabricated or not, had to be exaggeratedly dramatic with tears, loud cries, and whatever else that would stress the driver into settling on a cash compensation. Or, we'd receive thousands in the driver's insurance money after a doctor confirmed my injuries. Which, due to my history of them, was never hard to do. My father had made it sound so easy and after boosting my confidence, he'd succeeded.

I had no hesitation as I stepped in front of that silver Volvo.

My father had been so proud of me. Getting two scoops of ice cream had made it the greatest day of my life. That con became our go-to to stay under the radar and to claim some quick cash when we needed it. As a result, I got quite good at mimicking other's pain. I would pay attention to news clips of accidents or scenes on TV in order to learn the facial expressions and movements of the victims. To know just what level of pain matched what injury so that I was never selling too much or too little into any given damage. It was a skill that I was able to translate throughout every area of my life. But, it was never quite as useful for anything as it was in my father's scams.

After my mother disappeared, my father pulled me in to his real cons. From forgery to extortion, my father had managed to gain a reputation in the world of white collar crime. Because of this, we often held numerous identities and traveled from country to country living scam to scheme.

In the next few years, we managed to pull off several confidence scams. One of our most successful was a con plainly nicknamed, 'The Miracle Operation', where my father convinced someone of a wealthy status, usually a woman, that there was a doctor that would be able to heal me of my incredibly rare condition if only we could pay their fee. It was a long-con where eventually, out of pity, wanting to please my father, or actually having fallen in love with him, the mark would doll out the exact amount. The next day, we were gone.

Despite multiple encounters with the front bumpers of various types of vehicles and my own dangerous stunts, I'd still never felt pain until Jane's gift. And even then it was...strange. Which, I suppose to a certain degree, should be expected considering the supernatural element of the power. You could also argue that there is something oddly supernatural about my inability to feel pain, but I digress.

Experiencing Jane's gift was almost like lucid dreaming in a nightmare of your own design. Except, you had none of the control. Carlisle's suggestion had been weighing in the air between us with unspoken pressure. The entire theory that gradually exposing me to percepted pain would help raise my tolerance was as unsupported as it was wild. I should know — I came up with it. But with my life on the line it didn't seem like we had a choice. I knew Jane was reluctant to take part in causing me purposeful pain but her duty took precedence over her own feelings. Which is why we now found ourselves in the throne room with the three Masters and only a handful of the guard.

Jane and I stood across from each other in the center of the floor, as if facing off in a daring battle. The three kings were seated in their thrones, regal and undead, while their guards stood still as stone spaced against the surrounding walls of the hall.

When we'd arrived, Aro had explained that we would have several of these 'practice sessions' to measure and develop my pain responses. Each session, Jane would use her gift on me and increase the intensity of the pain I received based on how well I was doing. Eventually, theoretically, and if all went well, I would be able to withstand enough pain to undergo the transformation process. Fingers crossed, I guess. It wasn't like I had much choice, and even if I did, I was just as curious as them.