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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?


32. Chapter 32

Rating 5/5   Word Count 525   Review this Chapter

Nothing else but this,

“Mrs. Masen and I had a falling-out,” is all my mother will say. “Now, why don’t we retire?” What a tedious way to phrase something I am certain would be rather an interesting story. I’d much rather have all the details of the fight. Then again, it was probably over trying to get Edward and I married. I presume his mother didn’t approve.

Still, it would be funny to watch the two proper women and stiff Mr. Masen squabbling. Oh well. I suppose I shan’t get the chance.

I sigh and retreat to my room. I put the pillow over my head and pretend this whole world doesn’t exist. I escape to a whole different world. It is the world of my imaginings, and it is perfect.

I am in another bed. This one is huge. The curtains are drawn around it to block out the light of morning, which almost blinds through them. However, I want to see the light, all the light.

It is just another part of the beauty in my life.

I throw back the curtains just in time to feel a cool tap on my shoulder. “Hello, Carlisle,” I whisper. I know it is him before I even turn around. Of course, I am right. His smile stretches playfully from ear to ear. It is the biggest grin he’s ever worn.

“Good morning, beautiful.” His smile leans toward me. Once, twice, thrice his lips meet mine, very softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Breakfast?”

“Absolutely.”

He takes my arm and we walk down the stairs of our house. I know we share it because it’s incredibly beautiful. It shows his taste and my passion for dressing things up… usually inanimate objects. It is perfect for us, and it is beautiful. However, I don’t look around. I am quite accustomed to the space. I live in it, after all.

I have seen it every day for the last ten years. It is as much a part of me as Carlisle is.

A child runs down the stairs. She has blond hair and dark brown eyes. Clearly, she is ours. “Hello, Mom, Dad.”

I smile at her. “Good morning, Rose.”

Carlisle squeezes me closer. I grin up at him. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Mmm… whatever you want, my love.”

“How about you?” I kiss him as I tease, and he smiles into my lips. “Well, and I could use a muffin. I’m kinda hungry, and you just aren’t that filling.”
He quirks an eyebrow, and I am forced to stifle ashamed laughter. He scoops me into his arms and charges down the stairs to fetch breakfast, laughing together so hard we shake…

I shake my head- my real head- to clear the vision. The pain sets in instantly. I grab the sheet immediately and force myself into sleep. It is a simple trick to push the blackness over my consciousness.

To fall and fall and fall and fall and fall and…