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It has been sixteen years since Meg Cullen was kidnapped by the Volturi. Sixteen years of Edward and Bella mourning their dead daughter...supposedly killed by the Pack. Then, Meg returns to Forks. Only then does the race for answers (and survival) begin... ~SEQUEL TO MY STORY "CHOICE"~EPILOGUE: BRILLIANCE IS UP!"BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS, SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES." ~MACBETH

Here it is! The sequel to Choice! Hope you enjoy it! Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters belong to the lovely Stephenie Meyer. Except the characters of Meg and Ambrosi, though. As well as the lovable (but annoying) Dean Newton. They come from my own imagination. © Edward's Rose 2008

7. Chapter 7: Closer

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Chapter Seven: Closer


The misty air swirled around me, heavy with all of Forks’ tears. I stood alone at the back of the crowd, hands clenched tightly together. A light rain had started to fall…brushing the grass with its caresses. The priest’s voice rose and fell monotonously, praising Chief Swan’s compassion and will for justice.

What was it like to die…? Being raised by vampires, death was a concept which held no meaning. Time had been irrelevant as well. After a certain age, I’d stopped looking at a clock.

“Time is just another boorish invention to make my life more hellish then it already is,” Ambrosi told me once.

I stared blankly at the casket in front of me, laden with flowers. To me, it seemed like Chief Swan hadn’t gotten enough time. He’d died alone…without any friends or family to comfort him. The tears threatened to spill over and I let a single one run down my cheek.

“May he rest in peace,” the priest finished solemnly.

The little group of mourners slowly began to dissipate, a few shooting curious looks in my direction. I stayed behind, though…tipping my face up towards the sky. Tentatively, I took a step forwards…afraid to go near it. Chief Swan’s death was affecting me more then it should. It seemed like I’d known him somewhere in a past life…

With a shiver, I began to meander through the rows of neat, little tombstones. My eyes roved over the crushed remains of flowers, their fragrance long gone. A small tombstone drew my eye…despite its sad appearance. I sank down in front of it, tracing the inscription with my fingers.

Isabella Swan

September 13, 1988- August 13, 2007

Beloved Daughter, Wife and Friend

Taken From Us Too Early

A clap of thunder resounded through the sky, lightning illuminating the grave with an eerie glow. I shuddered and pulled the jacket tighter around myself. Casting a glance around the surrounding tombstones I realized.

There was no grave for Edward Cullen.

Only Jacob and I knew the true story…that Bella and Edward were alive somewhere. Probably forgetting the place where everything had started for them…I rocked back on my heels, fingers sifting through the blades of grass. Graveyards like this made me think of my own parents. The only tribute to their memories was gone…nothing but some ashes already rejoined with the earth. Nothing for their daughter to remember them by. Sometimes I wondered: had they loved me…?

Once, when I was eight, I’d asked Ambrosi about them. I wouldn’t have dared to ask Aro, for fear of showing that I missed them. Ambrosi had sat in silence for several long minutes, until I feared he wasn’t going to answer.

“They were kind and loved you very much,” he answered shortly.

“Did you ever meet them?” I begged, desperate for information.

Taking pity on me I guess, he answered: “No, I never did. Aro says you are a lot like your mother, though.”

I never inquired again, treasuring that one scrap of information. Closing my aching eyelids for a moment, I tried to conjure up a vision of them. A laugh…a word…a smile. I found nothing of course…I’d only been a baby when the fire struck.

Suddenly, out of my peripheral vision, I saw a flash of color streak through the trees. Cautiously, I eased up from the ground…edging towards the forest.

“…shouldn’t have come back,” a voice whispered.

I froze, peering out from behind a tree. In the clearing I could make out two figures. The one who’d spoken had been a girl with a strangely comforting voice. A hood was drawn up over her face, shielding me from her.

“We’ll leave soon, love,” the other figure said, a man’s voice. Why did it sound so familiar…?

The water ran in rivulets down my face, but I didn’t reach up to brush it from my eyes. Something in their voices compelled me to stay…

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said softly, burying her head in his chest.

“I know, I know.” He wrapped her tenderly in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

The sight brought a stab of pain into my own heart. Their love was almost tangible, an unbreakable connection…

He turned to leave, but she grabbed him by the arm. “Wait.”

She sprang lithely through the foliage, and I pressed myself up against the tree…concealed. I watched in awe as she hesitantly approached the casket. Her gait was smooth, but there was something else to it. As if she feared she’d trip and fall at any given moment.

The hood slipped back, revealing glossy, dark locks of hair. She cast a look around and her eyes lighted on a small, purple flower. With a refined grace she plucked it from the ground…laying it tenderly along with all the others.

“Goodbye…I love you,” she whispered.

She turned away, head down and fell into his waiting arms. As they slowly made their way back through the trees, she stopped him again.

“What…?” Her head swung around, and I could barely see her face because of the rain.

To my horror, she slowly began walking towards my hiding spot…a puzzled expression in her eyes. As she came nearer, I could make out a pale, heart-shaped face…beautiful and heartrending at the same time. A pale hand floated out towards the branches, about to reveal myself to her.

“Be-…” the man warned.

My eyes were locked on that hand; I couldn’t look away…until I heard the absolute worst sound.

“Isabella?” Dean called, his voice echoing loud and clear.

Without a sound they were gone…two figures disappearing into the mist.

“Come back…” I choked softly, reaching my own hand up.

The only response I got was the pounding of the rain.

“Isabella?” Dean called again.

I ground my teeth together, trying to suppress the anger coursing through my veins. Killing Dean and dumping his body in a grave didn’t seem like a bad idea…

Suddenly, I felt the energy rushing through me…seeming to explode from the cage that was my skin.

“No…!” I screamed.

I was losing control, just like I had in Volterra. With a burst of energy, it exploded through the small area around…causing me to drop in exhaustion. Through bleary eyes I could make out the flowers…they had turned brown and crinkled, dead. That was the last thing I remembered before the night closed over.


My mind was in a complete fog, drenched in white blankness…I opened my eyes a crack, just enough to see a nurse looking at me in worry…I closed them again, letting the searing night take over.

“Wake up, Meg...” a soft voice in my mind said.

I rolled my head to the side, in total stubbornness

Don’t give me that. Now open your eyes, darling.”

With a great amount of strength I forced them open…focusing on the kind face of a nurse.

“Oh good…you’re awake now, dear. How do you feel?”

“Thirsty,” I croaked.

She gave an understanding smile and passed me a cup. “Here.”

I took it from her and drank greedily.

“You poor thing…passed out in the cemetery! It’s a good thing that Newton boy found you and brought you to the hospital! He’s such a sweetheart.”

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath.

“Too much stress…not healthy for the mind.” She accentuated her point by tapping a finger to her head.

I nodded painfully. “Yes…the stress. May I go home now, please?”

Her eyes fluttered over me, concerned. “I suppose so. You just take it easy, though, alright?”

“I will…thank you.”

She helped me off the uncomfortable cot and I stood, rather shakily. I stumbled towards the door, drawing on the inner balance so I could walk. Head held high, I glided through the doors…sweeping past the sterile, white walls. When I reached the lobby, a familiar face greeted me.

“Isabella!” Dean called anxiously.

I mustered a smile, still angry that he’d ripped me away from the two. “Hello, Dean. Thank you for bringing me here.”

He waved his hand, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “No problem. Listen, do you need a ride?”

I shook my head fiercely. “No thank you…I’ll just walk.”

“It’s four miles back to town,” said another voice behind Dean.

I looked up into the eyes of his dad, who was still regarding me with that strange expression.

“Oh, well…”

“Come on, please?” Dean begged.

The pencil idea was still an option, I reminded myself…

I managed a smile. “Alright.”

Dean’s face lit up and he instantly immersed me in layers of talk. I didn’t pay much attention, though. I was introduced to his dad, Mike, and I walked to the car slowly. I slid into the back seat, watching the landscape flash by. I had been angry at Dean that much I remembered. Then, that terrible feeling of not being in control…causing the flowers to die. Frustrated, I tossed my head indignantly…it didn’t make any sense!

My thoughts carried me all the way back to town, where I politely asked to be dropped off. As I got out of the car, Dean stopped me.

“You’re going to the dance, aren’t you?”

I stared at him blankly. “Sorry?”

He sighed. “The school dance. You’re going, right?”


I saw Mr. Newton watching us curiously in the rear view mirror, as if he were suffering a severe case of déjà vu.


“I’ll think about it,” I answered briskly. “Goodbye, thank you for everything.” I slammed the door with an unnecessary force, walking lightly down the sidewalk. Impatiently I waited for the Newton’s car to drive off, only then did I hastily dive for the hotel.

The rain had slackened a bit, and I ran a hand through my wet locks of hair. The woman’s pale, heart-shaped face burned into my consciousness…her identity slipping through my fingers. The boy’s as well…I hated to be at a loss for answers. I slowly opened the door and ascended the stairs to my room. Once inside I sank down in front of the window, breathing onto the glass panes.

A slight fog crept over the spot…allowing me to trace a pattern. I suddenly felt a longing for my window seat in Volterra…back when life had seemed simpler.

“You’ve got your freedom now!” I snapped to myself.

But I didn’t have Ambrosi. Thinking about him unleashed all the hurt I’d kept bottled inside. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing away the tears. I had to be strong…crying wouldn’t do me any good.

Suddenly, I heard the hotel phone trill. I glanced at it wildly, seeing a red light blinking furiously. Slowly I edged forewords…regarding it almost like a wild animal. I reached a hand out, grasping it firmly between my fingers.

“Hello?” I asked warily.

“Hello, Meg.” My blood ran cold, a lurching sensation in my stomach…it was Alec.

“Alec,” I said evenly, trying to disguise the fear in my voice. “What do you want?”

He gave a short laugh. “Careful, Meg. I’m just calling to give you a little reminder.”


“You have three weeks left.”

Three weeks…? It only seemed like yesterday when I’d arrived in Forks.

“Meg, you haven’t forgotten the pact we made, did you?” Alec asked coldly, after hearing my silence.

“Of course not,” I snapped, my fingers tightening on the phone.

“Good. We will be anticipating your arrival.”

“Wait…” I started, but the line had already gone dead.

I listened to the bleak sound coming from the connection and I slowly hung up the phone…realizing my hand was shaking.

I had three weeks until my freedom was taken away from me. Three weeks to solve all the mysteries Forks held.