When I Could Dream
1. Edward Mason
Rating 5/5 Word Count 880 Review this Chapter
I kissed her hand.
"I love you, Bella."
"I'm sorry?" Her wide, chocolate brown eyes were deep, and I leaned closer to look down into them. Her pale, flawless face was flushed, at my closeness. "Isabella Swan. . ."
"How do you know my name?" She wasn't scared, just curious. Her blue blouse dipped enough to show her pale collarbone. She looked so fragile, but I didn't know why.
I gently touched her mahogany hair, to see if it was really as soft as it seemed. It was. I heard her heartbeat pick up. Strange.
I noticed my skin, so much paler than even hers.
"Don't you know who I am, Bella?"
"I'm sorry, no. . ." Her brow furrowed and I tilted my head to look at her from under my eyelashes. "Are you certain?" Her heart beat faster, pushing the warm blood into her cheeks to produce a lovely tinting of red. It was my favorite color, now. This girl, or woman, rather, dazzled me.
"I . . . Yes."
I felt my heart broke. She didn't know me. "No, Bella. You must remember."
She shook her head slowly.
"Bella!" A young man called, striding up to her and narrowing his dark eyes at me. There was an instant air of dislike we felt for each other. Our hating towards one another was mutual. Instantly. Like it was bred into the blood that ran through our veins.
"Jacob," Bella acknowledged. So she knew this man, but did not remember me? Hardly fair. But Bella could do no wrong.
This young man was tall, almost as tall as me though significantly younger. His face had not yet been rid entirely of the roundness of childhood, and he was tall, but lanky.
I almost smiled at his obvious immaturity, but I did not, for if it looked ill in Bella's eyes, I would never do it.
A foul stench reached my nostrils and they flared in distaste.
"Stay away, from her leech," the man growled, before they both turned and walked off, my love tripping, but my enemy automatically steadying her. I felt a surge of defiance as he touched her, and snarled. The scene faded before me.
I woke up gasping.
At least I had been able to escape, even if only for a night, before the life I led came rushing back to me. My father. The Spanish Influenza. Oh, Lord. I lifted my hand to wipe away the sweat from my face, automatically registering that my skin was back to it's normal color, and not the sickly pallor it had been in my dream. But dreams would be dreams, I suppose.
I got out of bed, and made my way down the stairs to check on mother, thinking of Bella Swan. I had said I had loved her. Foolishness. I had never met her before in my life. And yet, there was something that drew me to her. Something intriguing, even if she was only a figment of my imagination.
"Good morning, Edward dearest."
"Good morning, Mother." I leaned against her door-jam, watching her.
"How was your sleep?" She questioned. My mother. Her long, bronze hair, that had been carried onto me, glinted as she ran her brush through it. Her green eyes, which she had also given me, glinted at me as she met my eyes in the mirror, but even the mirror did not dilute the power and fierceness of her gaze. Whenever there was something, whether pain, or sadness, or joy, it always came through my mother's eyes. Right now, I guessed fear was causing the blazing look, for my father had come down with the flu and she worried about me catching it.
"I slept well, Mother," I assured her and she looked slowly back to her hair, contemplating. "But dreams are a strange world I do not comprehend."
"Edward, always the sensible type," my mother laughed. She had so much passion in everything she did, whereas I balanced her out, reigning her in when it wasn't some innocent fad, but something she could get into trouble because of. I was sensible. I had to be, for my mother.
"You need to dream. Dreams have love, and a surreal world that your mind delves into every night." She sighed, looking at me again in the mirror.
"Sometimes, I wish I didn't even have to deal with the nonsense."
"Dreaming is a gift, Edward Mason."
"I don't need LOVE, Mother." I rolled my eyes at her and she turned around this time, to gaze disapprovingly at me.
"Edward, one day you will fall in love and it will hit you like a ton of bricks. You will be driven mad by it; delusional."
"Good morning to you too, Mother."
She got up and hugged me. She made to pull away but I gripped her elbows in a death hold. I let my left hand go, and gently, it shook as I raised it to press to her forehead. I kept her gaze the whole time, not breaking it as I said, "My Lord, Mother. You're burning up."
My father, and now my mother. What more could go wrong in my life?