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Bound

Summary:
"I am Anthony Mason, Edward Anthony Mason Cullen for that matter, and those books are not only stories, not fiction nor fantasy, they are my journals, my life and all of my horrid mistakes."-Bound Edward Cullen is a world renowned author of the famous Dusk series. His haunting stories tell the tale of Anthony Mason, a young boy living in Chicago in the early nineteen hundreds, who is turned into a vampire while dying of the Spanish Influenza.In reality his books retell his life story.Edward thinks has hidden his, and his family's, secrets well until one girl finds the connection between author and character and turns his life upside down.


Notes:
Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer and do not therefore the owner of any of her characters. I do not own the rights to People oe Teen Vogue Magazine either.


4. Doom

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1932   Review this Chapter

Each insignificant action caught my eye; every scratch of the pencil, every change in her voice or gaze from her beautiful eyes. I was trying to read her because her mind refused to be reviled; to my utter complexion Bella Swan’s mind remained as blank as my untouched composition sheets. Her melody was hidden from my ears.

I knew my family was eagerly awaiting responses and answers from me, any sign if danger, especially now with Alice’s current situation. I was failing them when they were doing me a favour. It was overwhelming; if I was still human I was sure I would have been drenched in sweat.

It was hard form me to stay attached to the interview when I was watching for so many things at once. It was natural instinct for our kind to freeze like a statue or run when pressure became too great so I had to fight against this to act more human. It was only my duties to my family that kept me bound here in this torture.

“So Edward why don’t we start with the basics, what are your novels about?” Bella asked.

I exhaled deeply, composing myself, before answering. “The Dusk Series follows the life of a teenager named Anthony Mason. The first book, Dusk, starts with Antony and his life in Chicago in the early nineteen hundreds. This, of course, is when the Spanish Influenza was tearing across the Americas and it is not long before Anthony and his family are hospitalized by the illness. It is there Anthony crosses path with a very secretive Dr. Mason who ends up saving Anthony by turning him into a vampire. Anthony has to learn how to adapt to his new life and world as well as the problems that come with it.”

I rattled off my memorised tale like lines from a script. It was not a difficult task for my enhanced mind, I could have recited her they entire series, word for word, by memory.

“In the second book, Dark Night, Anthony has to deal with the introduction of a new family member while sinking into a depression and rebellious phase as he comes to face his immortality, which brings out a darker side in him. His family grows as they move, adding a supposed love interest for Anthony.”

Bella nodded, unconcerned and unaware that was reviling my entire life’s story, in a nut shell, to her.

“Finally, in my most recent book Heure Bleu, Anthony and his coven are met by some curious new vampires who want to join the family and come face to face by a new enemy.”

My family was as quiet as death above us as the reality and the danger of what I did finally hit them. They were all nervous now except form Rosalie who was angry about being called my ‘love interest’.

I was to on edge to concern myself with the shallow pool, which was her mind, at the moment.

“As I’m sure you have noticed, Edward, you have inspired millions of people with your stories but I would like to know what inspired you to write them.”

The weariness in her voice confused me, it was although she was uncomfortable asking these questions.

“In truth it began out of boredom and frustration,” I said, “the usual teenage angst I am sure, but I managed to direct my anger into a more creative outlet. It was actually Esme who found the first draft of Dusk and encouraged me to look into getting published. As I am sure is the same with other authors, there are factors in my books that were inspired by real things. Traits pulled from certain people and past experience but I assure you there is a reason they are called works of fiction. There are simply aspects to the novels that could be considered nothing less that fiction.” I smiled in a way I hoped to be encouraging and truthful.

“Do your family and friends read your books?” Bella continued without skipping a beat.

“My family is well versed in the events of my novel.”

“Do they like them?”

“For the most part they have told me that they do enjoy them.”

“There are exceptions?”

The thoroughness and severity of her questions surprised me making me even more weary and curious towards her.

“I believe that for some members of my family a few of the topics bring up ghosts from our pasts or are sensitive. We are all adopted and can relate to the main characters in the way in which they have to start a new life.”

Isabella nodded as if she understood.

“Some of the vampires have extra abilities that they carried over into their next life. If you could have one of these which would you choose?”

I laughed almost bitterly at her question.

The gift I had was apparently of no assistance.

“I have never actually envied the Mason’s, or any of the other vampires for that matter, based on the ability they acquired. I would much rather have no enhancements when I changed.” I answered truthfully. I had always wished for silence, a way to end the monotonous babble, and now that I had it aggravated me to no end. I had become too reliant on my ability. Trying to decipher her mind through her actions was like trying to walk on an injured led without the assistance of a crutch. I wanted her out, or at least needed my crutch to be returned.

“Where and when do you right?”

“Mostly in my room at night, I am a bit of a night owl.” I was shortening my answers now, attempting to end this sooner than latter.

“How do you overcome writers block?”

I have been lucky to not come across it yet but I will let you know if I ever do,” I said tersely.

Isabella held my gaze for a few minutes, it felt as though she was reading my soul, seeing every half truth and tall tale I had fed her. Finally she exhaled, dropping her gaze to her notepad, “I suppose that is enough for now, if you would like to bring your family in, unless there is something else…” her question trailed of in a hint of suggestion.

“I will go get my family.” I told her.

She nodded her face falling slightly.

My family had stopped breathing at the mention of them, their minds blank. I laughed at the situation as they looked to me for guidance when I met them at the top of the staircase. “Are you ready?” I asked.

We will do our best, Esme thought resting her hand on my cheek. I nodded and then led them back to our doom.

Since Bella had taken one of our couches to herself the family attempted to squeeze onto the one that was left, some forgoing their usual positions on top of their mate to stand behind the couch. I was glad for that; it was one less thing we would have to explain.

“Mainly I would like to know how you feel about Edwards novels and how they have affected his and your lives. I think this would work best if you went one after another but feel free to add something if you feel it is important.” said the young girl once we had settled.

Even if she did torment me I did have to commend her for her bravery. She was facing a room of vampires without a second thought and showed no signs of fear.

“If I could start with you Dr. Cullen?” Bella asked looking at Carlisle.

Carlisle smiled gently, and I could see the tenseness of Bella’s shoulders lessen. I had always admired my father’s talent with humans.

“I am very proud of the accomplishments my son has made and am happy that he has found a way to enjoy life while finding a path towards his future…”

My family continued praising me for retelling their death, each taking his or her turn, putting their own spin on it. We were so practiced in lying and sticking to our covers that the interviews went flawlessly. I owed them my immortal soul, or lack there of.

I spoke less this time, letting my family take the brunt of Miss. Swan’s questions, trying to find a crack in the fortress of her mind.

An electronic hum broke my concentration. Alice continued talking as if she had missed it as Bella dove into her satchel, retrieving a chunky and well used cell phone.

She mumbled and apology before excusing herself, walking back towards the main foyer to answer her call.

“How are we doing,” Jasper asked once she had cleared the room, “does she suspect anything?”

“She does not seem to think anything peculiar is going on.” I replied speaking slightly louder then our usual whispered tone because of the sudden wind that was sent whistling through the minuscule crevices in our home.

They all breathed a sigh of relief; my lie had served its purpose.

The silence dragged on as we listened to the conversation Bella was having in the other room.

“…snow is up to the top the van. I don’t think we are going to get out anytime soon.” A static voice came from the other side of her phone.

“Alright, thanks Angela, I’ll head out know so I don’t get stuck too. I guess we will just have to hold up fort at the hotel until it passes or at least clears enough to walk,” replied Bella.

I frowned at their conversation. The storm was supposed to have stopped by now.

Bella bade her goodbyes, hanging up, and walked back into the living room.

“Apparently the weather man was wrong and the storm has gotten worse,” she announced, “The snow is up to the windows of our crews van. I think I need to leave now if I want any chance at getting home before it hits your home. Hopefully this will all clear up in a few days and we can finish up the article and photo shoot. We will have someone call you.”

I stood as Bella began packing her things back into her bag, grapping the recorder off the table. “Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home, I apologize for the inconvenience of all of this.”

“It was our pleasure Miss. Swan, have a safe trip home.” I told her.

We walked her to the door, passing her jacked. Soon she had returned to her pervious Michelin Man like state. “Thanks once again,” she said before turning to the door.

The wicked, freezing wind broke through the crack, rushing into the house and blowing her tantalizing sent towards me. I was too distracted to notice though because a different smell chased right after hers, the frigid and dry smell of snow.

It took only a moment for me to realise what was happening. I shoot forward pushing myself between the girl and the door, blocking her path and reaching behind me to lock the door tightly.

A terrible wind shook the frame of the house and then we were drowned in white.