Before My Life Began
Edward and Bella have gone to Chicago for their honeymoon. One evening, before they are due to go back to Forks, Edward takes Bella to the site of his parent's grave. Yet something else in that graveyard catches his eye that night...
This idea is totally my own, helped by Stephenie Meyer of course with her wonderful characters. They are not mine, but hers, except for the original characters that appear in this story. THEY ARE MINE: DO NOT TAKE THEM!! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, and please review at the end, I will be very grateful.
Rating 4/5 Word Count 586 Review this Chapter
My face didn’t hide my emotions. The colour had drained from it, shock plastered across it. Not in a hundred years could I imagine Edward, my angel, my perfect angel, killing anyone. Edward’s slate was almost as clean as Carlisle…almost. The word stuck in my throat as I thought it. Hadn’t Edward once mentioned that there was a time, a period where…
I shook my head. No, Edward would never kill anyone, not even intentionally.
“I don’t believe you,” I found myself choke the words out.
“Hannah Katherine Phillips is dead because I killed her. Her death is my fault. Because of who I am, who I was, she is dead.” Pain saturated his voice.
Again I found myself thinking if vampires could cry.
Edward hesitated again. I had never seen him worked up so much before, so hesitant. Usually it was I who was the tentative one.
“Remember that night in the car, when I saved you from those men?” I nodded, a shiver running down my spine at the memory.
“I explained to you in the car how my mind works. How that one of the…gifts I bought into my new world was my photogenic memory. Remember?”
His eyes were dark as he stared at me, his hand nonchalantly caressing my face. He started at my jaw, working his way up as he traced.
“Yes,” I whispered in reply. I was too afraid to talk in my normal tone of voice. Edward’s own voice was at his usual decibel of sound – quiet and reserved, so that I had to strain to catch every word.
“My memory – my photogenic memory – allows me to remember everything. Ever since I was eight, every image, every memory has been stored away, now a clear picture in my head. I remember the memories I want to remember – like the first day I met you for example. I also remember the memories that I try so hard to forget, the ones that still fight their way for a place in my mind, never letting me discard them.
Hannah Phillips is one of those memories I have tried so hard to put from my mind. Why should I let her memory bother me, especially now that I have you? It’s absurd!” He shook his head.
I sat gaping at him. It was the first time I had ever heard Edward talk for such a long period of time. I knew there was a lot of angst building up inside that stone cold body of his, but not that much. I tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish several times. Edward was silent.
He wasn’t making a lot of sense, and I tried to piece it together. Somehow Edward was responsible for the death of another, Hannah Phillips. And he had never forgotten it.
“Tell me, please Edward. I want to know what happened.” Pleading seemed like the best thing to do.
“It is a long story.”
I rolled my eyes. “Our flight to Seattle doesn’t leave until the day after next. I’ve seen enough of Chicago’s many attractions to last me an eternity. We have time.”
“Only if you want to hear it,” was Edward’s response.
I turned back around so that he was cradling me in his arms, and I leaned against his head, his chin resting lightly on top of my mass of messy hair. His arms tightened around me, the cold fingers running unconscientiously up and down my arm.
“For you, Bella, I will tell of the time before my life began.”