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Message in a Bottle

Summary:
Edward's parents have just died. Bella just broke up with long time boyfriend, James. Neither know the other exists until Bella finds Edward's message in a bottle on the beach. Can love overcome death and pain? AU/AH messageinabottle.jpg picture by doomedsoul1212


Notes:
So this is a story i've been thinking about doing for a while. Read on!


2. Chapter 2

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1186   Review this Chapter

Chapter Two:

Dear Whoever You Are,

I am about to pour my heart out onto this page, but before I do let me introduce myself. My name is Edward Masen, soon to be Cullen. No I am not getting married if that’s what you were thinking, my parents died and named my aunt and uncle as my guardians. My parents were Edward Senior and Elizabeth Masen and my aunt and uncle are Esme and Carlisle Cullen.

I love Esme and Carlisle dearly, but no one can replace the spot in my heart that I have for my parents. Honestly I don’t know why I am writing this letter, which probably won’t even be read and if it is it will be by a complete stranger. Actually I do know why. I just need a release, a place to tell someone who doesn’t know me and therefore can’t judge me about my parents and my love life.

On the second topic it’s not as if I actually have a love life. I’ve had one steady girlfriend and that was in high school, but we just didn’t work out. So now I live alone and at this very moment my house is cold and dark. Maybe I should get a puppy. What do you think? I’m almost laughing at myself for actually writing this, but I’m going to continue.

My parents died recently as I believe I mentioned. I was up visiting my mom and dad. My mom had been complaining about smelling something funny in the basement, she said it smelled like gas. So of course I was told to check it out. Being the stubborn brat that I am I told them that I would get around to it. I went out to the store later that week, having not checked the leak, and came back to the sounds of sirens screaming down my street. I had pushed my car faster and I could see the billow of smoke and the fire that had engulfed my parent’s house. They didn’t make it out.

Ever since the fire I haven’t been able to sleep. I dream of the fire, of the smoke, of the sirens. I dream of the voices that seemed to be swirling in my head and yet I couldn’t hear them. I dream of my parents.

So now I simply don’t sleep, but sometimes it’s hard. I get tired and I just can’t keep my eyes open and then the dreams come and I wake up screaming. It haunts me, I hate it, but I deserve it.

So now that I’ve scared you off with my story, please respond. Just a word to let me know that someone read this and that someone out there knows what happened and that it’s all my fault.

Edward Masen

I looked over the letter and on closer inspection I could see tear spots on the paper. I sat in shock for a minute of what I’d just read. Edward Masen. The name kept repeating in my head and my hand inched towards a piece of paper and a pen to write a response.

There was an address written on the bottom of the page and I picked up a pen and a sheet of paper and started my letter to Mr. Edward Masen of Maine.

I managed to write Dear Edward, and then I got stuck. What do you write to a guy that you only know by his letter in a bottle? And his parents have just died? And he blames himself?

I sat chewing on the end of my pencil, thinking. It seemed as if he had written his letter without any planning so maybe I should write mine the same way.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After sending my letter off to Edward my life progressed normally. I looked in the mail every day for a reply, but other than that life was going well. I haven’t heard from James since the breakup and I’m considering that a good thing.

The first Monday back at work after the breakup had been boring, as usual. Unfortunately that left my mind a lot of time to wonder about Edward character. In my mind he was tall with bronzeish hair in a constant state of disarray. He had bright green eyes that you could easily get lost in if you weren’t careful. The eyes of my dream Edward stayed in my mind for the rest of the day and into the night. I even dreamt of them.

In my dream all I saw was a pair of emerald green eyes that I was just staring into, but it was like I was staring into someone’s soul. There was happiness buried along the edges, but a layer of pain and hurt and self hate covering it.

Tuesday morning I arrived to work on time as always and went to my office. I work for a small publishing firm and today was going to be one of my better days there. I was supposed to meet with the author of a book that the company was publishing and we were going to discuss how much editing should be done.

I’d already read the first copy and I thought it was good. Hell, it was amazing. It’s sort of like a modern day Romeo and Juliet, but done with the additional races of vampires and werewolves. Two lovers are kept apart by their races. The man, Jacob, is a werewolf and the woman, Samantha, is a vampire and their families are enemies. They have to meet in secret and often do, but when Jacob’s family finds out about that they attempt to kill Samantha to keep the two of them apart.

From there the story progresses into a world of hate and violence until the two are reunited once again. They run away and try to make their way in the world. The book ends with the two of them sitting on a rooftop, looking out at the snow falling. Jacob turns and kisses Samantha as a shadow falls over them.

A timid knock came against my door. “Come in.” I called, setting my copy of the manuscript on my desk.

A young women with bright red hair walked in. “Um…hello Ms. Swan.”

I laughed gently. “Please call me Bella, and let me start off by saying I loved your book.”

She smiled at me and loosened up. “Thanks. I’ve started the sequel already. It just won’t let my stop writing!” She laughed lightly.

“I know the feeling.” I said, thinking back to my letter to Edward. “So let’s get started discussing the editing on this book. Personally I don’t think much needs to be done to it other than fixing the grammatical errors and such.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple hours later the author, Emily Brown, left and I packed up my things to go home. As I reached my front door I noticed a piece of paper pinned to the door. I pulled it off and started shaking slightly when I read it.

You didn’t think I’d give up that easily, did you?

There was only one person I could think of that would write something like that.

James.