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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?

68. Chapter 68

Rating 5/5   Word Count 531   Review this Chapter

The eternal agony,

And I burn.

The voices are silent, after a while. I scream occasionally. I feel guilty about it, when I can think, because each time I permit myself to do so, I can hear the voice of the sweet angel whispering, “I’m so sorry, Esme, my dear Esme, I am so sorry.”

I do not want to cause him the pain I can hear in his voice. It breaks my heart, another little jolt of agony rippling through me. I’m surprised there’s room for any more. I would think eventually every nerve is overwhelmed with pain and I can’t hold anything else, any more sensation, that I will be numb to it all, that it can’t hold me tight anymore, that it can’t hurt me anymore.

But that’s a mistaken idea. No, it continues, what appears to be infinitely. With each longing lingering instant, it increases, growing worse and worse. I can scarcely breathe… and eventually, I do not. I simply give up inhaling and exhaling, because if I do not, I’ll die, won’t I? And then I can’t hurt anymore.

But I don’t die. For some reason, the pain refuses to allow it. It keeps me twined in its grasp, tied in, forced to hold on to a life that is nothing but excruciating agony.

After forever, the pain stops. The raging fire in my limbs and core simply ends, and I hear the silence where my heartbeat once was.

Slowly, I sit up. I force my eyes open, slowly. I can feel the world against me in a new way. The air strikes me like an unfamiliar fabric, an odd new texture touching my skin. I look around.

I can see every line of this house, every angle on the ceiling of this place. There is a ringing silence, but beyond it I can hear a thrum of faraway voices, of breathing.

“How much for this, Ellen?” someone asks.

“A dollar.”

I realize abruptly I can hear all the way to the general store, that the hum of sound is all the buzz of the town. I am privy to every private conversation for what I presume is miles and miles.

I gasp with this realization.

I watch a dust mote pass by and trace the tendrils of it with my eyes. Beautiful, I realize suddenly, just as I once thought when I watched them dance in the sunlight as a child.

Speaking of the sunlight, I can see a dim light trickling through an almost-curtained window. I trace the eight colors in the rainbow, a new one I cannot name appearing.

Beautiful. I stick my new hand under the light, and gasp aloud.

I… there’s no other way to say it. I sparkle. Even in this palest of illuminations, my hand is a rainbow of glittering light, shimmering with the radiance of light on water, of fire, of diamonds.

I am, for the first time, beautiful.

I smile, and then I hear a sudden voice.

“Esme…”

Of Eternity’s fall…