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I love you, my Angel

The night Edward 'died' but he wasn't alone. There was someone beside him, begging him to stay the whole time, pleading with him not to leave her in the darkness of her world. AU.

Sooo....This can be a one shot....or it can't be a one shot....u choose.... I got the idea from listening to The River Flows In You and looking at an old fashoned picture hanging on my wall of a flower surounded building with lots of windows and a horse buggy outside....but I'm not really sure how that ended up as this....hmmmm...

6. "...I believe I already met your daughter..."--Edward

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1934   Review this Chapter

I glanced at the clock. I needed to be at the school in five minutes.

From behind me, Jasper walked into the room,

“Yes, you have to, Bella,” He answered my unasked question. I let my mouth close. “Just be careful,” He cautioned as he flipped through the pile of unopened mail, “If you think you’re about to snap, call me. You can run away from the town first, but be sure you do call me eventually. You have my number??

I sighed, “I’ve had your number ever since the damn phones came out, Jazz.”

Jasper paused and after a second dropped the mail on the coffee table in front of me. I avoided his eyes as I tried to resist his waves of emotion.

“That’s cheating,” I mumbled, ashamed of my snappy attitude.

“I’m only trying to look after you.”

“I thought that was my job,”

Jasper chuckled and leaned down, kissing the top of my head lightly before exiting my room. “Better get going,” he called from his den.

My anger and annoyance had evaporated, but I was pretty sure it was the kiss, the physical contact, from Jasper that had done it. Oh well. He did it for the best, at least.

I sighed, throwing my light-as-feather backpack over my shoulder and headed out, calling a brief good-bye to Jazz.

In my head, I went over all the little, pointless things about the town—keeping my mind busy. I could tell where the school was before I saw it by the immense smell of warm blood and loud laughter that made me cringe. These new, lazy generations were the worst of them all; they laughed too loud, yelled at their elders too frequently, and no longer kept the normal, well-placed rule of Ladies First properly.

I shut my engine off—some car that Jasper had picked out who’d name I could hardly pronounce—and sighed. I gathered up my bag and shoved my keys in my pocked, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and rose out of the car with swift gracefulness.

A small crowd of gapping students had already managed to swarm around the car. I slipped on some darkly tinted glasses—something Jasper said hopefully helped them not notice the strange coloration of our eyes—and brushed past them. A small pathway of frozen people stood in my trail.

High school was hell. Period. I hated the annoying students that were so immature—could the world really consider them mature now days? I hated the usually unprepared teachers and their silly ‘learning techniques’.

I flipped up my hood as a drizzle started up while I made my way towards the main office. I opened the door and ignored the sweet smell of the woman at the desk.

As soon as the door was open, the large woman sat up starter—or at least, I think she did. I wasn’t entirely sure, though.

“Isabella Whitlock.” I said firmly.

The lady stared at me for several second before I cleared my throat and she jumped, suddenly rustling through a stack of papers. “Um, just get t-these—this—paper signed by your teachers, a schedule, and a school map.”

I took the papers quickly, careful to not make contact with her skin. I swiftly exited the room, filling my lungs with clean, fresh air that lessened the burn; I’d been without the smell of humans almost too long. But I could—would—do this, for Jasper.

By fourth hour, I was ready to kill the whole pathetic population of Forks High School. I didn’t even have to be in the boys’ minds to know what they were thinking; the drool told the story for its self. And the girls could only glair, clearly unashamed. Oh well, I thought, all the easier for me. There was no way I could peacefully intercourse with the children, though by mid-day I was almost used to the burning in my throat, leaving the sensation at the back of my mind.

I scooped up my tray of untouched food—I wasn’t even sure what I had—and looped over the dump the disgusting stuff in the garbage can. My nose wrinkled at the smell of all the partially consumed meals.

During fifth I quickly had my note signed and settled in a back seat. The classroom was nearly empty except some boy with large glasses that kept falling down his nose that was shoved in a thick book.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at the desktop. I was setting myself up, of course, but I wanted to see Edward and hear his voice…

“Muffer,”—I mumbled as she attempted to yank my completely ruined dress over my head— “what if I don’t want to meet this new boy?”

Her firm hands finally got the dress over my pinned up hair. Several tresses fell into my eyes. I blew them back, opening my mouth to continue the argument I’d had about every day since I’d turned fifteen.

But my mother, brown eyes like mine firm, beat me there, “Isabella, you are going at that’s it! Now, turn around so I can finish taking out your hair—goodness, you’ve got it all fussed up, again! When will you start acting like a proper lady?”

“When I want to,” I snapped, answering the obviously rhetorical question. I folded my arms tightly across my under gown—a very childish action that my mother absolutely detested.

“That doesn’t change that fact: you are still going! For the last time, hold still, Bella Marie,”

I sighed, standing stiffly, glaring at myself in the body length mirror. I absolutely hated that my tears seemed welded to my anger problems, but a few tears leaked out of the corner of my dirty face.

If mother noticed in the next few minutes of silence, she gave no heed.

An hour later, mother had managed to stuff me in a delicate blue dress that went too well with my skin for my liking—I didn’t want this current marshmallow to like me. My hair was pulled up and twisted into small, dainty locks that glistened too much for my liking. I was at least grateful when mother didn’t put on her dark, lovely blush.

As I came down the stairs, my father, who’d come home, gave me a stern look as he looked behind his newspaper. “Behave,” he said sternly, but his eyes still sparkled brightly.

I flashed a smile at him, “Now, father, you know I always to. When have I ever done anything wrong?”
He grinned, “Oh, I can remember a time or two,”—and, catching the look mother was giving me, sat up straighter, “but,” he cleared his voice, “you listen to your mother…or it’ll mean a day without your books.”
I glanced down at the floor quickly, smile fading, but, as I headed out the door, I caught the wink father sent me before mother closed the door behind her.

We walked swiftly down the sidewalk in a tense silence.

I refused to look at mother, still furious at her. I could be doing so much right now instead of going to meet some bimbo-headed, stuffed up, banana brained child! I-I could be reading a good book; cooling in the river down the at the end of the lane; or—or—or finding more out about the beautiful man that had started at my house after I’d scrambled in. His eyes were so beautiful! And the way his hair fell around his warm colored skin—not pale and bland like mine—and his lips twitched in a heart-breaking smile…oh…

I didn’t realize nor care when my mother began to prattle in a tense whisper about the new boy I was supposed to meet— couldn’t I pull my mind from the mysterious boy? If I only knew his name! But, no, mother had, once again, managed to interrupt in the most vital part of my life, ruining the moment. She was good at that, I decided.

“Bella! Isabella, are you even listening to me, child?” Mother’s eyes were narrowed.

“Yes, sorry,” I answered vaguely, glancing around at the house, realizing we’d arrived. Mother hadn’t seemed to have knocked. Maybe I just hadn’t seen…

“As I was saying, honey, I’m only doing this for you. I hope you know that. I love you and just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to wake up one day regretting your whole life.”

She fully had my attention now.

Like you did, I added mentally. I opened my mouth to respond something that I knew she’d swallow when the door opened up abruptly. Apparently, she had managed to knock in my daydreaming.

The woman was, surprisingly, much different looking from all the other mothers I’d been introduced to. She had gentle, soft curves, and a warm smile. Long auburn hair was pinned up in an elegant pattern; her large, green eyes twinkled with a soft love.

Well, um, she honestly looked like the mysterious boy I’d run into earlier. Hope suddenly jumped up in my chest; could he be the boy I was supposed to meet? Oh I suddenly very much hoped so.

“Thank you,” I muttered, curtsying softly as she welcomed us into her large house.

I’d never been in this house before. The neighbors had been an old, crabby couple that even mother had had a hard time putting up with, thus we’d never been dragged over for afternoon tea. It was filled with an elegant, gorgeous beauty. It had a large staircase several feet from the landing. The doorway to a large kitchen was towards the left of the stairs and to the right was a small parlor that was gently decorated.

“Please, come in. My son, Edward, will be down any second, I’m sure.”

My stomach couldn’t decide on getting the butterflies, or plummeting in despair. I made up my mind: If it wasn’t the boy on the street, I would refuse to be pleasant, day of no reading be damned! I was not going to walk my mother’s line, unless it was by my own doing.

Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to pay attention to what Mrs. Mason and Mother were talking about. I could hear the soft tinkle of china and talking going on but I was too busy torturing myself on whether or not Edward was the boy I was looking forward to seeing.

“Mother,” The soft voice was so recognizable, I felt like I could hear it half way across the world.

I twisted towards the doorway, almost spilling the tea I had.

My heart thundered ridiculously, pounding erratically in my chest, a small blush creeping up my white skin. His face was better than the way I’d imagined it on the walk here. His eyes were dancing, glued to mine; I couldn’t look away if my life depended on it. They held mine fast as he addressed his mother. “Sarah said you wished to speak with me, mother?”

His mother glanced between the both of us before a small but sure grin slipped onto her face. “We have some guests, Edward. This is Mrs. Swan and her daughter, Isabella.”

Edward moved over smoothly, still keeping his eyes, smoldering, on mine, and gently picked up my hand in his and rose it slowly to his lips, planting simple kiss there. My breathing all but stopped. He watched me through his thick, black eye lashes, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Swan, but I believe your daughter and I have already met, on the street today. She was ever most pleasant.”

My blush burned fervently. A second before it was too late, I realized I wasn’t breathing, and that I was going to faint. I felt the world tip in the most delightful way before every image went black, minus Edward’s glorious face.