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The Falling

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!

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

5. Chapter 5

Rating 5/5   Word Count 528   Review this Chapter

Fall from safety…

My father and mother are somewhat cowed when they enter. I wager Carlisle has read them something of an impressive lecture. He could probably be intimidating if he wanted to… though he’s never shown anything but compassion to me.

“Hello, Esme,” my mother says.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Dear… I know you’re healing, but you must understand, it simply isn’t proper…”

I adopt the appropriate so very sorry face and turn its full charm upon my parents. “I know. I must have shamed you terribly. Dr. Cullen spoke with me,” I know better than to use his given name around my prudish and proper parents, “and I fully understand. Please, forgive me.” Here, I stuck out my lip, caused my eyes to swell wide, and winced a bit in pain.

Mother looks aghast. “Esme, dearest, I didn’t mean to scold! Sweet, are you all right?”

This time, my face is the so very brave one. “I’ll be fine.”

“I think we’ll leave you to your rest. Marian?” My father offers my mother his arm.


I smile as they leave, and then allow my face to relax. Carlisle turns from the patient he’d been attending to and grins widely at me, with the same adorable enjoyment apparent in his laugh.

“Esme, I didn’t realize you were such a manipulator!”

I blush. I find myself wishing that he thought only the best of me, and manipulating one’s parents shamelessly isn’t precisely the way to gain affection from an honorable and kind man. “Well, I suppose it’s easier if they hear what they want to.”

“I quite understand. I find it ludicrous a girl, even one so intrepid as you, should be stuck inside all day long. The world is lovely. I think it perfectly reasonable you’d sneak a little fresh air now and again.”

“Really?” No one has ever thought it anything but silly fantasy to be constantly craving trees, and air, and freedom.

I had begun to think it rather unnatural, but if Carlisle doesn’t think so, I guess he’s right.

“Absolutely. Actually, it’s healthier if you exercise that leg, to promote healing… once it’s no longer broken. Strengthen it through walks, or climbing, though I doubt I can convince your parents to allow that. However, they might bow to my authority in the area of a few walks.”

“You have no idea what a relief that will be.” I can feel myself dying, shut inside as I am most days, wilting from lack of sunlight like I am truly the delicate flower my mother insists a lady should be.

“Anything I can do,” he promises. I smile again. “So, Esme, we’re going to be here a while, and the rest of the patients are asleep… I doubt a girl with a newly broken limb will rest particularly well. I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

“Of course.” I am tired, but he’s right. My leg aches and burns, and he is far more interesting than the oblivion surrounding dreams.

Into life…