In Alice's opinion, what happened to Marcy Webber was one of the cruelest acts she has ever seen. And she's seen a lot. This is the story of the hunt for Marcy and for her kidnapper in Alice's point of view.
[Companion story to I Watched]
Ok, so this is the sequel. I really loved the idea of Marcy and Angela too much to leave it off where I ended it. :D I plan on making it three chapters, so hang in there. Also, I have to thank PacificNorthWet for this genius idea. Song used in this is A Dark Congregation by The Hush Sound.
5. Epilogue - Sparkling Blue Eyes
Rating 5/5 Word Count 2025 Review this Chapter
Send out the morning birds to sing of the damage
Now that the calm's returned, I know I can't manage
You're standing in my doorway, though he's asleep in my bed
The steady murmur, always in my head.
You're the finest thing that I've done, the hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still, but I don't believe that it ever will.
It had been two weeks since the 'accident'. Two long, suspicious weeks. I was still instantly on edge, testing out my visions to make sure my future would never behold a figure enveloped in darkness with gleaming red eyes.
And Jasper was as tense as ever.
We never really spoke of that night, he seemed to understand everything clearly enough and I didn't want to push it farther. But he was incredibly possessive and protective of me lately. At school, he wouldn't leave my side. At home, he wouldn't let go of my hand. If it hadn't been under the circumstances, I would have become irritated, but now I felt comforted that he was so close. If someone happened to look my way longer than necessary, a low growl would escape his lips.
And for his watchful eye, I was so thankful.
But, there was still one thing in the Cullen household that had everyone concerned over: Esme. Ever since the night we found Marcy, she hadn't been the same. She was quiet, enveloped in her own thoughts. She was so distant from all of us, even Carlisle. I had never seen him so helpless or worried. Nothing any of us did could bring Esme out of the self-induced slump she was in. And truth be told, I was scared for her.
I planned to do something about it.
With much pleading and begging, I finally got Jasper to agree with leaving with Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle, and Edward for hunting. At first he was reluctant, more so than ever, but finally he agreed. His eyes were dark, too dark, for my liking.
Edward was the last one to go out to the car, but before he reached the door I stopped him. He looked at me, obviously annoyed, as I outstretched my arm across his chest to connect with the doorframe.
"I need your help," I whispered, not wanting anyone to hear. Edward looked at me curiously before nodding once.
"With what?" His eye brows furrowed as I concentrated on the Care Bear theme song.
"What's wrong with Esme?" I challenged him as he sighed deeply. Not only did I want Jasper to go hunting with the others tonight so he could satisfy his thirst, but because I wanted to talk to Esme. I wanted to at least attempt at helping her.
"I can't tell you that, Alice," He forcefully whispered. I stomped my foot in protest, earning a few curious glances from my family members in the waiting car.
"Why not? I want to help, don't you?" His dark eyes glared angrily at me from his heavily lashed eyelids. He shook his head briefly before answering my question.
"I want to help, Alice, I do, but some things Esme needs to deal with herself. You need to learn to give people some space. The things she thinks about is personal, and I wish I didn't have to listen, but I can't block them out. And since I intrude her space, I'm not going to tell you. Just let her be, Alice. This is something only she can do," He whispered back as he brusquely pushed out of the door. I glared at him as he stalked to the car and got in.
I watched as he put the key in the ignition, ignoring the intrusive questions of Jasper, and drove out of our driveway. I sighed, I was just going to be in this alone.
With a huff, I turned around and closed the front door. I could hear something swishing lightly a few stories about, and I knew Esme was painting. I swallowed and took my time climbing the stairs. As I reached the top, I heard Esme set her paint brush down. I walked hesitantly down the hallway and when I reached Esme and Carlisle's room, I knocked respectfully. I heard a rustle of papers from inside and a soft sigh. It hurt me inside to know my mother was hurting, especially when she didn't deserve it.
"Come in, Alice," Her melodious voice carried through the heavy, wooden door. I pushed it open silently and slipped in. She was sitting on a wooden stool in front of an easel, her loving eyes narrowing as she observed her painting thoughtfully.
"Esme, I want to talk," I whispered softly as I sat down on the pastel colored sheets that covered the bed. I crossed my legs and balanced my head in my hands as she turned around on the stool and watched me with concerned eyes.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Her loving tone made me flinch slightly because I knew under all the tender, love and care, she was in pain.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked, my innocent expression seemed to melt her heart. She swallowed nervously as she looked out the open window and out into the mysterious twilight. I felt my bottom lip quiver slightly as her facial expression fell into unmasked agony.
"What do you mean?" Her ocher eyes flickered to mine and then back to the full, stark white moon that was forming overhead. The heat of the nearby candle thawed my icy skin and I felt so comfortable in here.
"Esme, you can't fool us. We all know something's wrong, and we're all worried. Carlisle feels helpless, Edward feels nervous, Emmett feels depressed, Rosalie feels empty, Jasper feels it all, and I feel scared. Won't you please talk to me?" My voice cracked as raw emotion saturated it. Her face turned to face mine and I knew then that if she was human, she would have crystal tears rolling down her sweet face.
"Oh, honey, I want to talk to you. I really do. It's just difficult," She sighed as she looked down at her folded hands. I got up from my position on the bed and walked cautiously towards the only mother figure I had ever known. I put my tiny arms around her shoulders and let her lean on me. She needed support right now, and I was going to give it to her.
"Please, Esme? I want to help," I said softly in her ear. She patted my back in reassurance and I let go. Her sad eyes looked into mine and she took a deep breath of unneeded air.
"Well, Alice, you see it has to do with when I was human," I nodded in encouragement and she then continued, "I had a baby, as all of you know, that died just days after being born. He was so sweet, Alice, so sweet and adorable. You would have loved him. Anyone would have with his peaceful face and his deep, blue eyes." She gulped and her eyes held a dreamy, dazed look as if she was only here physically. Mentally, she was decades ago in the past.
"I never got over him, not once. His loss racked my body in such pain that I don't even think the icy fire of the transformation could compare. The loss of a child is something no parent should have to go through, Alice. It's so painful, so terrorizing. You feel like your life is over, like there is no more meaning to life. You feel like your heart has been snatched away. It's horrible, and I don't think in a million years I could get over this pain." Her eyes closed briefly, remembering a scene no one would ever live through except her.
"I'm so sorry, Esme," I mumbled softly as I grabbed her hand tightly. She squeezed back fiercely.
"It's not your fault, dear. It's no one's. I just, well, going through everything with Marcy just brought so many buried memories from my human life. It made me think of everything I had once forgotten about my little baby boy. And knowing two other parents are going through just what I went through, well, it just about pulls me apart," Her tortured voice cracked on the last word and I squeezed me eyes tightly shut.
She was right, I had no clue what that type of pain felt like. I did not know of anything in my human life, and I never would. I had never experienced loss in this life of mine, only the gaining of things. Of love, of friends, of family, of siblings, and of parents. And the thought of losing those things scared me more than anything before.
That night Esme told me of so many things so vividly, I was under the spell that they were my own memories. My own past lives. She told me of her husband, abusive and cruel, of life on the run, cold and hard, and of loss. They were things I had never gone through and it was refreshing to learn something so different from my seemingly perfect life compared to her own.
She told me of her baby boy, Joseph, and how perfect he was. How his bright blue eyes were so gorgeous she knew that as a mother, he'd have all the school girls after him. She told me how his laugh was like none she had ever heard. How his blonde fuzz for hair was as soft as any silk or fabric I wore. It felt like I had experienced everything with her, by her side, solemn and silent.
And I had never felt so alive.
Her life was like a paint splattered canvas. Rich with diversity of colors, but frayed around the corners where years of pain and agony had taken place. And how a painting was never done, neither was her life. She was constantly adding things to it, some good some bad, and by the end I felt like I had never been so connected with my adoptive mother than now.
But, of course, all times had to come to an end. And Esme's human life sadly did. She told me of how she threw herself off of the treacherous cliffs and hit the waters like a rag doll tossed aside in a corner of broken toys. She told me of how the waves tossed her, and how she even thought she was dead. She told me of the shock and revival she had felt when the icy venom had crept through her veins and sucked her dry.
And by the end I found that if I could have cried, I would have been sobbing. No one deserved to be tossed aside and beaten by someone they thought they loved. No one deserved to have to go on the run, from fear of their spouse. No one deserved to have a child die. No one deserved to be so fruitless in death. And yet these things had occurred to her.
When she finished her story, we both sat in a comforting silence. I could tell from the slight slump in her shoulders that she was relieved. She had finally let go of all her secrets.
So I quietly excused myself from her room with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. And when I was in the hallway, slumped against the wall while trying to desperately grasp onto my mind and life itself, I remembered something. I remembered the painting she had been observing when I had walked in.
A glorious baby boy with laughing, sparkling blue eyes.
And, to tell the truth, that night I noticed I actually remembered a lot.
And since the roof fell in, I'll lean on what matters
Caught in the slightest wind, everything else unravels
You're standing in my doorway seven cities ago
The days are racing, but you come back too slow.
You're the finest thing that I've done, the hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still, but I don't believe that it ever will