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.
15. Chapter 15
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1611 Review this Chapter
The day Charles had to report came and went in the blink of an eye. During his last few days, I did everything I could to put on a good show so he would think I actually was sad about it. Of course, in reality I wasn’t but I could never let him know that. I made him his favorite meals and did everything he asked without a second thought, being as calm and obedient as I could. But he was in a foul mood from the whiskey he’d procured somehow and still hit me, even if he didn’t have a reason. I always believed it was alcohol that destroyed mankind and Charles was a prime example of the kind of animal it turns men into. I only prayed I’d survive until he would leave.
Then the day finally came.
We walked in silence to the city hall, where he was supposed to register and report for duty. The weather was terrible with heavy rains and wind that blew the bulbous droplets into our faces even despite the umbrella’s shelter, though only spraying our faces minimally. There was no thunder. There was no lightening. Just the thick, fat rain that plopped down on the only shelter we had, making soft but loud padding sounds on the material. It was all I could hear. I shivered in the cold but somehow, someway, a fire was beginning to burn inside of me. And it was a fire that was starting to warm my core, bringing me back to life and fueling my hatred for him.
When we ascended the steps of city hall, passing through the roman pillars into the large building, we were able to escape the rain. I retracted the umbrella and secured it back into place. Walking into the structure, our steps echoed through the hall though our voices were silent. We didn’t look at each other, mostly because we didn’t know what to say…well, at least I didn’t know what to say. I was seeing off a person whom I would not miss nor wish to come back alive, making it more of a pleasing experience, though I’d never let him know. The bruises from the previous night were invisible thanks to plenty of cosmetics but the memory of the incident simply would not go away.
I’d been sitting in the living room, reading a copy of an anthology I’d received as a gift years before from my mother that I just hadn’t gotten around to reading until now. It had been raining heavily outside, just like today, and there was a nice fire in our fireplace. My hair was let down from its normally pinned style and my face was free of any make-up. All I wore was the pale yellow cotton wrap-dress I’d worn that day, my legs curled up underneath it on the sofa. I didn’t know where Charles was but, then again, I didn’t really care. As long as he wasn’t angry and nearby, I was content.
Suddenly, I heard stomping upstairs and the sound of feet pounding down the stairs. Then I noticed that the pounding was getting closer and I felt my heart thumping against my chest in fear. My back stiffened and I closed my book, though I kept a finger inside it to keep my place. My heart thumped harder, making me think it might jump right out of my chest. You’d think that after having Charles beat me almost daily I’d be used to hearing his thumping feet that only came around when he was angry. But I guess I was wrong.
Charles came into view in the doorway on the opposite side of the room, face twisted in a fury that I’d never seen so strong before. He stood across the room and hovered there, holding something in his hand: a bottle of whiskey. I could smell the toxic stuff from where I sat, wrinkling my nose at the scent. He glared at me, his blue eyes darker than normal. The hand that wasn’t holding the liquor was clenched into a fist, which I knew would soon meet my body somewhere. Maybe my face. Maybe my back. Maybe my torso. Who knew. All I did know at that point was that I was in for a beating the likes of which I’d never experienced before. I reflexively shrunk back as he walked towards me, fist raised and poised, ready to strike.
He struck my face, breaking my nose, I assumed, by the crunch I felt and heard. He kept hitting me, my hands held up in defense.
“You thought I wouldn’t notice, Esme?” he snarled, pummeling on me like a punching bag. “You took my money, you little bitch. My safe is four dollars short!”
I started crying uncontrollably as he continued to hit and kick me, having fallen off of the sofa onto the floor.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I sobbed, not even knowing what he was talking about or why I was apologizing for something I didn’t do.
Then he grabbed me by the hair, pulling several locks from my scalp, and started dragging me towards the stairs. I screamed louder than I ever had, letting the fear finally show through my continuous shouts. But he wouldn’t let go and he wouldn’t stop. No matter how much I cried and begged and yelled, he wouldn’t let go of my hair. When we reached the stairs, he let go of my hair but then he grabbed me around the waist and carried me up them as I struggled against him. I had no idea what he was doing. I just knew it was bad. Worse than anything else I’d endured.
Then I saw where we were headed and I knew: this would be worse than anything else I’d ever survived.
Charles kicked the bedroom door open, still holding me as I struggled against him as hard as I could.
“No, Charles, please,” I cried, as he carried me towards the bed on the opposite side of the room. “Please, don’t.”
Somehow I managed to get out of his grasp and, when I did, I bolted for the doorway. But he was quicker than I was and he snatched me back up and threw me on the bed, pinning my arms on either side. When he saw that I wouldn’t stop fighting him, he hit me so hard across the face that I blacked out. I could hear and feel but I just couldn’t see very well. I only saw the outline of Charles, standing in front of me, as I lay stunned on the bed.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson, Esme,” he said, head held high by the looks of his outlined body. “You won’t disobey me again…ever.”
I could hear the clink of his belt buckle as he unhooked it and the slight whoosh of fabric as his clothes fell to the floor in a heap. I knew what was coming and I tried to make my way off of the bed but I was still dizzy from the blow I’d just taken. So I ended up just falling off of the bed only to be picked up again and thrown on the mattress. I kept resisting him, kicking and screaming until he put a hand over my mouth. I bit it and he smacked me again. After this slap, I could barely think with the pain and still couldn’t see very well, though I could at least make out things nearby. I tried to crawl across the bed but he grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me back to the side he was on, flipping me over on my back at the same time. With his hand over my mouth and my senses so dulled by the beating that I was nearly unconscious, I stopped fighting.
It wasn’t over quickly. It must have gone on for close to a half an hour before he became tired, got dressed again and left the room, leaving me behind broken and violated. He’d torn my dress from my body so now all I wore was a few shreds of cloth, draped over parts of my body. I crawled off of the bed and into the corner of the room where I went into a fetal position, my thighs bruised and my face bleeding. I could still feel him and I flinched even when I accidentally bumped my arm on the bedside table. I cried until dawn, which is when I knew he would still be asleep, hung over from the liquor and exhausted from what he’d done to me.
Thinking about it now, I noticed Charles was glowering at me and I realized it was because I’d stopped walking. It was painful to walk but at least my dark green dress covered the bruises.
“What the hell are you just standing there for?” he snapped, grabbing me by the arm.
He pulled me to the registration desk and, after that, it seemed time blurred for me. I saw vague images rather than clear-cut figures. Everything went so quickly around me while I just stayed unmoving. By the time the feeling was gone, I was home in my own house. How I got there, I couldn’t remember but I did know this: I was safe.
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