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The Falling

Summary:
In the action itself, she is weightless and free. The flight is not to be feared, only the impact. A story on the life of Esme Cullen. Image Hosted by ImageShack.us Banner By incredible Iris!

Notes:
I may submit this to the official site. What do you think?

30. Chapter 30

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 536   Review this Chapter

Falling purposeless,

It is a moment before I can admit it. “I don’t… I don’t have any.”

“Hah!” It is a word, not a laugh. “And you mock me!”

“At least I’m not too proud. Hubris, Edward. That’s your fatal flaw. How original.”

His eyes glint with fury. This is growing addictive. It’s the first memorable moment in my life since Carlisle left it. “Well, at least I’m not some caricature of a fairy-tale maiden. Wasting away in her father’s castle because her one true love left her, forced into a marriage she doesn’t want, certain to be saved by that shining-armored knight one of these days…”

“While we’re talking about clichés… The good little momma’s boy, just aching to go off to war, to serve his country, good for him. And yet his beloved mother wants him to stay at home and learn and marry some nice girl. Of course, he ends up falling in love, thereby saving his own life. Happy endings ensue.”

I feel slightly bad for chewing out this adolescent, but I am too busy reveling in the sudden sense of being alive that I feel. I sense my heart beating, my blood flowing, my cheeks rushing with the healthy excitement. I am glad to be real.

“I won’t deny you your happy ending. But you can’t say you’re exactly original.”

“I’m not wasting away. I’m in love, but I’m also living a normal life, and if you weren’t an immature baby you’d understand that!”

“If you weren’t blinded by your own self-pity you’d see past your own hairstyle!”
I lean towards him, furious. “I don’t give a damn what my hair looks like. I’m not that kind of girl. I am doing my very best to get over something more powerful than you can imagine, and I don’t appreciate accusations of… of pretending to be what I’m not. I don’t like you dismissing my feelings, because what I felt was real and it’s none of your business whether or not I get over it. I’m not making this up or putting on some damsel in distress act to get attention, because I don’t care what you think of me.”

“You don’t?” His voice is revoltingly weak, almost shocked. I grimace in disgust.

“No. So get over yourself already!”

“I’m not the vain one in this room, madam.”

“Of course not. Because you’re perfect!”

“I like to think myself so.”

It isn’t sarcasm. I search his face for any trace of it, and then realize it isn’t there. I fall on the floor laughing, so hard is my mirth. “Who told you that, your mother?”

“Yes. And I think she’s right.”

“Of course.” I shake my head. “Because if you didn’t honor your father and mother, you wouldn’t be perfect!” Can he really be this ridiculous?

“Precisely. Now you understand.” He joins in the laughter. “Did you really believe me? Maybe you’re not the only talented actor. Esme, I’m far from perfect… but so are you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Nowhere to go,