The Story of Esme
How it began. How it happened. How it ended and how it was revived. A look into the life of Esme Cullen.
This is my first attempt at writing more than just a short story. I have always loved Esme and she is one of my favorite characters in Twilight so i jus thad to tell her story the way I've imagined it.
11. Chapter 11
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Charles was the first person I spoke to after hearing the news of Jack’s death. Surprising, right? Most of you will think it is but none of you know the circumstances. He was the one person who stuck by me after it all, even despite my bitterness and title of “damaged goods”, meaning that it would be virtually impossible to find me a new husband due to the fact that I had already given myself to a man. And for this, I think he grew on me, as annoying and persistent as he was, at times making me want to wring his neck however endearing his stubbornness was.
The weather that day was terrible. Pouring rain and thunderstorms affected every part of the Columbus area, spooking the animals and over watering our crop. My father was out trying to figure out what to do when Charles came by as he had every day since Jack’s funeral five months earlier, new book in hand. He said hello to my parents before ascending the stairs to my bedroom, where I spent most of my time, lying in bed or sitting on the window seat, being miserable.
“Hello, Esme,” he greeted me, his voice deep and a bit scratchy. It seemed as thought, since his brother’s death he had grown from boy to man, with a clean-shaven face and more aged, deep blue eyes.
I didn’t answer, as usual.
He looked at me where I was sitting on the window seat, his eyes saying that he felt my pain. I only caught a glimpse of the pain in his eyes but it was enough. Then, he began reading after a long sigh, leaving me to listen as I watched the rain pour down. Only after about a minute of him reading this new book that I realized what book it was: Hamlet…Jack’s favorite book. That was when I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran from the room, Charles close behind, and made my way outside in nothing but a pale green dress. My bare feet stuck in the mud but I continued on my way. The rain soaked me head to toe, dripping off of my chin and drenching my hair. I had no idea where I was going until I looked around me. I was at the bank of Warren Lake.
Charles must have been running because when he caught up to me, soaked as well, he was panting and breathing as if he’d just run from Columbus to the lake. I didn’t even look back at him walking towards me; I didn’t know what to do anyways. I had fallen to my knees in the same spot Jack and I had spent the night together only months earlier and where we had created what would have been our first child. My eyes were blank and my face emotionless. I didn’t move until I felt Charles’ hand on my shoulder.
“What are you doing? It’s pouring out here,” he yelled over the violent winds that were blowing around us.
I turned my head ever so slightly, just so I could look at the large hand that rested atop my shoulder at the base of my neck. But I wouldn’t speak to him and I think this frustrated him.
“Listen. You aren’t the only one who felt pain when Jack died so stop acting like it. You can’t stop your entire life just because you miss him. We all feel sad that he’s gone but I don’t think he would’ve wanted you to go on like this,” Charles yelled, hands flying wildly around as the aggravation grew.
I’d had it.
“Charles, how the hell do you know what he would’ve wanted?” I snapped, speaking for the first time to anyone in over three months. He looked taken aback but I continued. “Were you there the moment he died? The moment he was taken from me? The moment I lost my child?”
He didn’t say a thing, only looking at me with those damned eyes of his.
I stared at the water and watched the raindrops bounce off of it, creating ripples on the surface.
“I’m not sad he’s gone,” I whispered as the winds calmed.
“Then what are you? Hmmm?” he inquired, coming over to me and crouching in front of me so that his face was right in front of mine.
“I hate him!” I seethed, tears finally breaking through the barrier I had put up, fortified by numbness and apathy. I couldn’t even look at Charles, whose facial expression was one of not horror but one of understanding. I went on.
“I hate him for leaving me. For getting himself killed. For making me lose my baby. I hate him for ever entering my life, making me feel hope and happiness, only to take it away by dying and leaving me broken,” I explained, now bawling uncontrollable and trembling violently.
“I know, Esme,” he murmured, looking at me with understanding eyes. “And it’s okay to hate him…its okay. I do too. Everyday.”
Charles suddenly wrapped his arms around me; though at first I fought him, he never let go, knowing that though I struggled, I wanted and needed him to hold me. I cried as he rocked me back and forth. The rain kept going throughout it all, though it became less severe as I calmed down, as if the weather was affected by my mental state. By the time I had stopped crying and was only shuddering from the aftereffects of my breakdown, the sun was beginning to peek out from over the hills to the north of us but Charles didn’t let go and I didn’t ask him to. I hadn’t been held like that since, well, since Jack. I felt safe in Charles’ arms, like nothing bad could touch me as longs as he was held me close like he was then.
Finally I wriggled from his arms, shrugging them off of my shoulders but our faces were still only an inch or two away from each other. I was afraid that if I looked into the blue oceans of his eyes, I’d be lost in them. And I felt guilty that, to be honest, at that moment I had feelings for him. It felt bad that I had those emotions but I couldn’t exactly control it if I loved someone. One thing I had learned was that love had its own rules to follow and its own agenda. Like a river, it flowed wherever it fit at the time and it didn’t get to choose where it flowed. Now you could fight the current and try to keep yourself from feeling love but it got exhausting after a while and, in the end, the current always won. Or you could go with the flow, give yourself up to the love and let it carry you wherever fate wanted you to go. It was easier and, most times, better than fighting it.
I didn’t fight the current.
When our lips met, a voice in the back of my head told me it was wrong but my body and the remainder of my mind told me to just stop fighting it. Charles had softer lips than Jack but the same fervor and passion that Jack had kissed me with was there, a trait that both of them must have acquired. He kissed me slowly though, taking his time and being cautious as he explored my lips and mouth with his own lips and his tongue. I placed my hands on either side of his face to pull him deeper into the kiss as if I never wanted to let him go. I wished I could have had a reason to stop kissing him but I didn’t, even though his being my dead fiancé’s brother was reason enough.
Soaked to the skin and tired from both of the mental and physical stress the day had put us through, we walked back to the house and it was then, back on the porch, that I knew things would never be the same. I had just kissed the younger brother of Jack, the dead love of my life and I felt only minimal guilt. It wasn’t because I was shameless or over Jack but because I knew that there was no resisting something like that. It was futile. Charles gave me a hug that might have crushed the ribs of anyone else but not me and I will never forget the words he whispered into my ear as he embraced me.
“I will never leave you and I will never hurt you, Esme,” he started, lips to my ear. “Ever.”
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