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.
21. Chapter 21
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I thought it was all a dream. I thought I was in some kind of post-mortem hallucination that anyone who died had. I mean, I’d heard of near-death experiences but I just assumed I was actually dead rather than simply close to it. I heard panicked voices all around me, one female and one male. I felt arms lifting me up, though I felt nothing else. And then I can recall feeling as if I were floating, flying along the road, hovering over the gravel. I was dead. I was really dead. It was only a matter of time before I was reunited with my son. Either that or put at peace with the knowledge that he was okay. Though I kept expecting angels, or demons, to usher me at any moment to wherever I was meant to go whether it be heaven of hell, they never came. Still, I thought I was actually dead and dreaming. If that was even possible.
I didn’t want to open my eyes, fearing that it would ruin the peace I felt. After all, peace was something I hadn’t felt in months. I’d been haunted by the memory of my son, my darling baby boy who’d been selfishly taken from me in the first days of life. I didn’t want to shatter the idea that I was dead and I had succeeded in my attempt to be in a better place than the one I had once resided in. But when there were more voices around me, sounding even more emotional than before, I began to feel uncertain and scared that maybe I wasn’t dreaming. That maybe I was awake. Tha maybe, just maybe, I was alive. But I kept telling myself that it was nigh impossible for anyone to have survived a fall like the one I had taken. It went beyond the limits of recovery and had almost guaranteed death. So what was going on? I was dreaming. I was dreaming. I was dreaming.
Then, there was silence. Pure, solemn silence. I was lying on something. I was dead and I was lying on something. Maybe it was the back of an angel or the arms of a devil. But I was dead. I had to be. What else could have come of my suicide attempt? I liked the silence. It made it easier to deny the possibility that life might still be in my body. That I was still amongst the pain and hurt I had so adamantly tried to escape. So I sat there. Waiting for my judgment by God or whoever might greet me at the end of my life or the beginning of my death. I told myself the death was the end. That it was final. Done. Over with. Gone. But then I heard a voice and I knew two things: I wasn’t dreaming and I wasn’t dead.
“Esme?” Carlisle Cullen breathed in sorrowful shock.
I hadn’t thought that will was the only thing keeping me from opening my eyes until I heard my name coming from the fluid, euphonious voice of the man I had never stopped loving. And when I saw him, I smiled, though with my eyes rather than my lips. I couldn’t speak or move and I became fully aware of my living state, however diminishing that state was becoming. I had wanted to die because of the loss of my child. But now I felt the desire to live for the man who had stolen my heart all those years ago and never given it back. I have no idea how to describe how I felt. There were no words. I wanted to cry and smile and scream, all at the same time.
“Oh Esme,” he began, looking my body over, seeing my broken, shattered bones and barely beating heart. “What has life done to you?”
I couldn’t respond. I only made an attempt to radiate as much of how I felt as I could. I didn’t want to die anymore. I was scared now. I was scared that I had finally been given a reason to live and that reason was gradually slipping away. Carlisle’s hand brushed my bruised and bloody cheek, not flinching once at my injuries or how awfully gruesome I appeared. He just kept shaking his head in disbelief and something else. Something I had not immediately been able to place.
I tried to move my hand to touch his arm but all I could manage was a slight flick of my wrist. I only wished I could explain what had driven me to these measures. But even more so, I wanted to explain how greatly I did not want to end my life. I regretted jumping now. At that point, I had possessed nothing for me to live for. Now, I had hope, though it was slipping away as each second ticked by, my heart beating fainter with each jerk of the clock hand.
Smiling faintly, still with sadness in his soft golden eyes, Carlisle bent down over me and caressed my face.
“How did you go from that spirited, strong girl to a broken and beaten woman?” he asked me, knowing that I couldn’t answer. Then he went on.
“I never forgot you. I never stopped wondering about where you were or what you were doing. You never left my mind…or my heart.”
“Esme,” Carlisle began in what seemed like a torn and worried voice. “I can save you. I can take you away from all of this. I have that power. But I refuse to do it unless you let me know, somehow, that you want to live. I need to know that I have your permission. I won’t do anything against your will, even if it means saving your life. It isn’t my decision. It isn’t my life.”
I didn’t know how to let him know how much I wanted to get away with my life. I couldn’t move, or speak, or anything. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do. But then, without even meaning to, my lips curved faintly and a lone tear fell from my eye, curling around the contour of my cheek. And he knew.
“Okay,” he said softly, pushing the sleeve of my nightgown up my arm to reveal the bruised skin of my wrist. I didn’t know what he was going to do. I didn’t know how he was going to save me. But I trusted him. I trusted him enough to save my life and to give me a second chance at life.
When he bit down, I was shocked and felt nothing. It only hurt a little, which surprised me considering the fact that I could feel no other pain even after jumping off of a cliff. It began as a sting. Then it turned to a burn. Then my entire body was on fire. Moving from my arm through my limbs to the core of my body. I had never felt something so terribly painful before. It was beyond any physical pain I had felt in my life. But with Carlisle by my side, I was okay. And when after an unmeasured amount of time passed with his hand squeezing mine, it began to fade. Gradually, the flames turned to burning, which turned to throbbing and then, finally, back to no pain at all.
That was the first day of the rest of eternity at the side of my soul mate, Carlisle Cullen. And I felt happier than I had in years as I peered into his golden eyes with my new ones. I was safe in his arms. I was loved by his lips. I was warmed by his eyes. I was, finally, home.
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