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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?


57. Chapter 57

Rating 5/5   Word Count 568   Review this Chapter

So you run away from your falling,

And as soon as I’ve made the choice, it begins to look up for me, truly. Opportunities present themselves in remarkably quick succession.

“You bought an automobile?” I ask, shocked. It’s a mistake, of course. He growls at me.

“Don’t question my decisions, woman.”

“Of course not, my dear. I was merely surprised.”

A further surprise is the way he just glares and stalks away. It’s a light punishment for this.

Amazing how the pieces fall into place. He really doesn’t go anywhere. What does he need an automobile for? Maybe someone is looking out for me after all. My angel Carlisle, perhaps. Maybe he really is from heaven, and maybe that’s why he could not stay with me.

I don’t believe that, of course not. But it is a pretty fancy. It makes the days go by quicker as I tend to Charles, waiting for the second part of my trap. Instead of the white days I had before I married him, each the same in total nothingness, the time is an identical red, the color of blood or pain, running into each other, stained tears across the fabric of forever.

I clench my fists and endure it. I must make my escape soon, I know. I am three months pregnant. It will begin to show soon. I cannot allow him to see. That will bear disastrous consequences for both of us.

Strange, how I think of this babe as a person already, when I’ve not even felt it kick. It’s already the foremost part of my life, and I love it. I love him.

I think it’s going to be a boy. Somehow, I sense it. Of course, I could be wrong. But I refer to my child as masculine by default. It simply feels accurate.

We have a close relationship. I tell him my secrets, sometimes. I whisper to him at night, when Charles is sleeping, exhausted from long hours of tormenting me, and my weariness is just in my limbs but not yet in my eyes.

I sit awake and speak to my boy. He will grow up tall and proud and handsome, and he’ll never know this fear. He will believe the same lie I shall tell everyone else.

I have this quite clearly planned out. I am Esme Cullen, war widow. My dear husband Dr. Carlisle Cullen was serving his country as a field doctor when he was shot in the line of duty. He had a leave shortly before that, and that is when I became pregnant. My only family, a father, also perished overseas. I have nowhere to turn but my dear cousin Eileen.

That at least is true enough.

I will tell only Eileen the truth, and that just because I have to throw myself on her mercy- and she knows my mother lives.

I’ll hide should she ever come to visit.

I may even find work as a teacher. Teachers must be single- but they’d make an exception, surely, for a poor widow who wouldn’t want to burden her only family.

I shall raise my son alone, and he will never feel the pain of being hurt or betrayed.

I smile.

Far away, as fast as feet can fly,