Edward's POV of New Moon. "Time meant nothing to me, for I never slept, never hunted, never left my room. Each second was agony, always bringing up memories, her face in my mind. I was thirsty, painfully thirsty, but the other pain was so much more overwhelming that I hardly noticed."
Everything belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
2. Chapter 2
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We waited, silently, at the airport. Carlisle, Esme, Jasper, and I. Em and Rose had gone ahead to Tanya’s place, to bring our things, and prepare the place, but we waited to meet him. Help him. We owed it to him, owed it to my brother, the sentimental, dramatic, angsty brother we loved.
His plane came in, and we watched as the passengers filed out, slowly. I tried not to see what he would look like, tried to block the vision.
I didn’t want to see him like I had yesterday, dead, torn, pain spasming across his face. But I kept my normal eyes open, and watched the door where the passengers were disenbarking.
Esme tightened her hand on my shoulder, I looked up and saw here silent sobs twist her face. She cared for him like a real son, he had always been a son to her. It hurt her, too, probably more than any of us, to see his heart broken. I felt Jasper send calming waves over the family, and I squeezed his hand in mine, to convey thanks, but did not move my eyes from the plane.
He did not get off.
The last of the passengers collected her luggage and left the airport. The flight attendant came off and whispered something to the suited woman in charge, and I strained my oversensitive ears to be able to hear.
“He won’t respond, won’t move... I don’t know if he’s alive, doesn’t seem to be breathing.” The woman looked concerned and began to dial on her phone.
I looked around at my family, and I saw that they had heard the same I had. “Alice,” Carlisle murmured urgently, “What do you see?”
I sighed and closed my eyes.
He sat in the car Tanya had lent us, sitting in the back seat as Carlisle drove. We seemed to be going up the road back to the large house we were now living in with our Denali cousins. I couldn’t see his eyes; his face was in his hands, hair limp and mussed. I could see the tendons in his arms sticking out, bared.
My voice confirmed, “He’s fine,” tonelessly, and my eyes opened. “He’s fine, but... he’s... Well, he’s hurting.”
We all heard Esme’s intake of breath, and Carlisle put his arm around her, bringing her face to look at his. “We knew this would happen, love. It’ll be okay. It has to. He’s doing what he thinks is the right thing.”
He pulled her tighter against his body, and Jazz, as well, held my hand tighter, probably realizing I didn’t want to be held. I turned to look at him, and his eyes were pained, regretful, guilty. He wasn’t as close to Edward as I was, but he understood, and I knew what he was thinking.
“Jazz,” I remembered calling out to him. He had run into the woods, and stood still when I called, facing away from me, body rigid. “Jazz!” I caught up to him, and looked up into his eyes. He was always so much taller than me.
His eyes were filled with horror. “I’m a monster,” he whispered. “I... I... I don’t deserve to...”
“No, Jasper, stop it!” I had to stop this. “Bella sent me after you. She told me to tell you she didn’t blame you. She didn’t want you to feel bad.”
He laughed darkly. “And Edward?”
“He wouldn’t have either.” I laughed as well, a little scornfully. ”Knowing him, he’s blaming himself for all of this.” How right I was.
“Would he tell me to forget about it, would he forgive me, if I had killed Bella?” He pulled me against him, holding me so tightly it would have crushed my bones if I were human. “How would I tell him? ‘Edward, I just killed your girlfriend. Sorry. It won’t happen again.’”
“Jasper, this isn’t your fault. You can’t help it.” I reached up and kissed him, passionately, tracing my tongue over his silky, warm lips.
He pulled away after a couple seconds, face rigid.
“Alice, nothing you can say or do can make me stop hating myself right now.”
I sighed. “It’s not your fault. You losing control was just the last straw. Edward was insanely guilty already, after James.” I regretted bringing the Phoenix incident up, he blamed himself for that too, for letting Bella slip away from him.
“It was bound to happen eventually, even before that," I continued. I saw it flickering, every now and then.” I pulled his hand closer to his chest.
“Let’s go,” I said, louder.
Without pulling out of our individual embraces, we walked, insanely slow for vampires, to the plane.
As we reached the steps to enter the aircraft, Carlisle murmured something to the flight attendant, explaining. Her face relaxed, and she nodded, relieved. He, holding Esme close, led the way into the plane.
Edward was at the back, in a single seat. He hadn’t brought any luggage, nothing, not even his wallet. His clothes were rumpled- he obviously hadn’t changed them.
When he smelled, or heard, us coming, he lifted his face from his hands. Eyes coal black, dark circles under them, they seemed pools of pain and loss. He was broekn. And yet, you couldn’t berate him, because he was doing all this to fix her life.
Damn his stupid conscience! It was all so wonderful, Edward and Bella... I had seen her becoming a vampire, entering the family, so happy with Edward.
His crooked smile as he lay with her, blissfully, in a small cottage. She was curled up beside him, and his arm was around her. Sometimes she or he held something, a blurry patch, that my vision couldn’t quite make out. But always, every time, his face was exhilerated, delighted, living a life of love and joy.
She was sweet, too. I loved being with her, so human and sensitive. I shrank from the thought of what this was doing to her. No, I had promised him I wouldn’t look. I wouldn’t look.
But I saw his anguish-twisted face and knew she would be the same.
He met Carlisle’s eyes as we came up, looking into them, probably seeing into his mind. “Carlisle,” he greeted. His voice was horrible, cracked.
Looking around, he seemed surprised that the plane was empty. Beyond that, he seemed sightless, watching nothing vacantly, as he stood up. “Let’s go,” he mumbled.
No one said anything, and we left the plane, entered the car, and drove to Tanya’s place, equally silently. We didn’t know what to say.
Carmen met us at the door, and her already black, Spanish eyes darkened as she saw Edward. “His room is upstairs,” she whispered. “Does he have luggage?”
His eyes tightened. “No, he said sharply. “I left everything behind.”
I didn’t need his mind-reading power to know his statement included his life.
Stephenie Meyer owns everything.