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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?

67. Chapter 67

Rating 5/5   Word Count 605   Review this Chapter

Falling into an endless pain…

Carlisle, what are you doing?”

I hear the voice. The voice is full. Full of what? Of feeling. Anger. Rage. Misunderstanding.

Carlisle? That’s my son’s name. My son is gone. He’s dead.

More pain.

Pain through me, all through me, burning, burning, I’m on fire, I’m on fire, help me!


I knew a boy named Edward once…

Memories that mean nothing.

“No. I mean it. Carlisle, what are you doing? Do you want to damn her?”

Confused in this, in the pain, agony muddling my mind, convincing me that truly it doesn’t matter.

“I will not watch her die.”

The voice is iron and I am even further bewildered. I am dead, am I not? Dying at the very least.

The angel’s voice cannot save me, though it rings like a bell with every word.

I do not wish to be saved. What do I have to live for? Daydreams and broken promises and a tomorrow that will never be.

“I can hear her thoughts. She jumped off that cliff because she wanted to die, Carlisle.”

A scream. Shrill in the air. Piercing. Painful. Full of agony. Ripples, breaks, tosses, and all a sound.

Mine, I realize.

The only thing I have left.

The pain is mine, even as the shards of my life slip away one by one. My books. My knowing. My loving. My son. My love. My everything. My life.



Another scream.

“No one can choose to die. She was desperate. Then. Now, later, someday… she would have regretted it, Edward. She had…”

The sweet voice is bewildered.

He does not know his own reasons.

I cannot hope to understand them.

But I know what he’s done, damn him. He’s forced me to live.

I don’t want to.

I want to die.



Even more so with the physical pain, really, making me wish I’d never been born, but really it’s my leaden heart.

Calling die, die, die.

“This is a mistake. You don’t know your own reasons!”
A sigh, leaden as my aching limbs, escapes. I smell something sweet.

Angel’s breath. I never thought angels could breathe.

You’re delirious, Esme.

Huh. I guess dead people don’t think very clearly.

Am I dead? Or alive? Or in hell?

Something worse, maybe.

“No, Edward. I don’t have reasons. I just couldn’t watch her die. Not her. That’s all I could think, when I found her there! Not her. Anyone else, but not her.”

What could I matter to an angel?

I’m just dying here.

Just a corpse in pain.

No reason and no reasons. No life and no light. All the love drained out unrequited dead gone just like me.

“That’s ridiculous.”

I agree with the snarky voice.

I try to make myself nod to show that agreement, but when I try to move I feel my whole body twist in a spasm because of all the pain.

“Someday, my son, you’ll understand.”

I don’t. I can’t.

I wonder who they are and decide that it doesn’t matter, in the wake of this pain nothing matters.

“I seriously doubt that, Carlisle.”

Again, I agree.

Before the pain is redoubled, shooting through me head to toe. I scream again.

It overwhelms.

That pulls you down and down,