"Within a week of the first words passing between us, I knew several things: One, she was incredibly stubborn, curious, and no matter how many questions I answered for her, it would never be enough. Two, I was just as stubborn and curious, and although I pressed her with constant questions, most of them considered to be pointless, I couldn’t imagine ever stopping. And three, I was an entirely different person without her near me." my first twilight series fanfiction. please read&review. one-shot, my lovelies.
Rating 4.5/5 Word Count 1501 Review this Chapter
“I can’t believe that I managed to reach you. Really, you can read people’s minds, so why don’t you actually use that ability instead of making me traipse all over the countryside trying to contact you? Now, did you even hear what I said a minute ago…”
I had never had the need to breathe - not in almost ninety years. I suppose the only reason that I kept up the façade was out of habit, or as not to have suspicion arise. After all, I had spent nearly every minute of my life, my new life, that is, around humans who found it quite necessary to breathe, and so I did. It was so easy to forget the smallest of things at times, such as breathing. Even after spending nearly eighty-eight years as the creature I was, I still became worried at times for letting my guard down, for allowing myself to forget that my life was like a permanent movie, and as the star actor, I couldn’t let myself slip in and out of character. So why, why now, did I finally feel like breathing was necessary to my survival? Why was I allowing this unfamiliar sensation to creep into my chest, making my heart spring swiftly to life once again?
For the first time since 1918, I felt as if I would truly die if I didn’t begin to breathe. But as I attempted to force myself into the humanly routine I knew so well, the oxygen couldn’t reach me. It had never needed to before, but in that moment, that second, it was if I would finally die.
For months I had been angry with myself, angry for so many innumerable things. I hated myself for the things I had done in the recent weeks. I was positive that the damage I had caused would be irreversible, for everyone who had come into contact with me during that time, but mostly I was worried for her.
Her. That was how the person I missed most in the world was to forever be know as. Her name had always been somewhat of a sacred thing for me to say, something that made my skin tingle, and since our last encounter, it was an impossibility for me to even think her name, much less say it. How could I dare to utter her name without her lying next to me, perhaps in her room at midnight, trying not to laugh too loudly for fear that her father would hear? How could I at least give the appearance of calmness when her name brought hundreds of memories flooding back to me, from the first time she looked away from me across the cafeteria, crimson shading her cheeks, to the last time we had spoken - the time that I turned my back to her, the sound of her trying to contain her tears ringing in my head? How could I have fallen so incredibly in love with the person who was so incredibly wrong for me? But most of all, after the separation I had forced on us both, why was I still, after this much time, unable to extract her from under my skin? Ugh, her skin, her warm, beautiful skin…
An undeniable fact: I was entranced, captured by her beauty, both outward and inward, although she was always the one to deny that she had either. I will admit, at first, my thoughts about her were far from loving, far from the movie that has a happy ending. Instead, I was living in one of those ever-so-popular romantic films, with an inviting dark element tossed in for entertainment. Only, it wasn’t entertaining - it was downright terrifying. What was I thinking I would do, dazzle her (wait, I can’t think like that, it will only remind me…) and then kill her in some dark, secluded corner, saying nothing when the police went haywire? Would my family notice any change in me, perhaps the way I shifted away from all conversation about the disappearance, or would her death trigger that desire for taste that I had tried for so long to keep under control?
But I had to keep my desires under control, I had to keep my emotions in check, for not only Carlisle and the rest of my family, but for her, and so I was able to see far past the allure of her blood. She was all I cared about anymore, the only thing that kept me from running away and never looking back, the thing that made the tedious high-school classes that I had taken for years not seem so ordinary. In a world where everything felt like the same thing day to day, she stepped in and managed to change my perspective - on everything. Music had another meaning, and when I tossed a CD into the player in the car and pressed play, it was if she was there next to me, singing away shamelessly, the wind tangling her soft locks of hair together. My personal sunshine. That was what I missed about her more than the way she brightened my eyes or the way her skin felt against mine, I missed the awkwardness, of her, that gloriously unique and intoxicatingly refreshing personality that she held, the fact that she couldn't care less about what people thought of her (with the exception of me). Curious, with a knack for attracting trouble at all hours, she was someone who fascinated me, who left me with more questions than I had to begin with. As many times as she insisted that she was ordinary in every possible way, and that hearing her tedious responses must have been incredibly boring for me, I was addicted.
Although, it wasn’t just her physical beauty or her personality that got me hooked on her, but the smallest of things that she didn’t notice, the quirkiness that she was embarrassed of. For instance, her amazing heart. Not only did it make my face melt into a grin whenever her heart stuttered uncontrollably at my touch, causing her to blush furiously, but the passion that it held. I can’t even remember how many times within the first few weeks of our meeting that I insisted I was dangerous, that she would be better of not becoming involved with me, much less as attached and comfortable as she quickly became, but she refused to leave me. She was intense, someone who challenged me constantly, and she was completely and utterly dedicated to me, even though our relationship seemed as unhealthy as it possibly could be. Within a week of the first words passing between us, I knew several things: One, she was incredibly stubborn, curious, and no matter how many questions I answered for her, it would never be enough. Two, I was just as stubborn and curious, and although I pressed her with constant questions, most of them considered to be pointless, I couldn’t imagine ever stopping. And three, I was an entirely different person without her near me.
And now there was no chance of resurrecting that person that she made me become, no possibility of a second chance, no last time to see the way her eyes sparkled when I would say “I love you” and she would know how much I meant it. I knew that I had broken promises to her, but now I didn’t have the ability to at least keep one, the one that was most important. I couldn’t keep her safe, I didn’t protect her.
I allowed the small, silver phone to cascade out of my hand, loudly crashing as it met with the floor beneath me. It was nearly impossible for me to believe that all of the thoughts about the months, all of the reminders of her, could race across my head so quickly. The voice, now nearly screaming, through the phone was echoing, I could hear it everywhere around me, making it impossible to escape my living nightmare. To make matters worse, I couldn’t possibly ignore the tone of the voice, filled with a hard, biting edge, a slight sense of mocking detected. Remorse was scarce.
“Edward, did you hear me? I said your little girlfriend has gone and jumped off a cliff…”
I could feel my entire body tensing, my jaw tightening. If it was possible for my cold skin to turn a shade paler, I’m positive that that is what happened at that moment. So this was what I would feel like before I died, what I would remember as second out of billions that changed everything. A thousand more thoughts made their way through my head, a million scenarios filled my eyes. I ignored Rosalie’s ringing voice, rising in intensity as I didn’t answer. Life, if the thing that I was trapped in could me called that, was over, meaningless, worthless. In that instant, I only allowed for one word to stand out from the rest, one word to be breathed into the air, flowing silkily off my lips.