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Transformation & Infatuation

When Edward meets a mysterious young girl and is faced with the decision of saving her or letting her die, he unknowingly turns her. As a newly turned vampire, Bella is confused and alone, and is searching for the mysterious angel that saved her.

This story was originally published on fanfiction.net, and is by the same author.

4. Edward's Offering

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Edward's POV

I can't ask for their forgiveness, but I can try to make life a little easier for them. That's the least I can do for killing their daughter.

After the crash, I swam back to mainland France, cleaned myself up, and caught a flight from Marseilles to New York, where I had originally flown from. After landing, I picked up my silver Volvo from where I parked it and started the drive to Phoenix, Arizona. That was where the girl had lived.

It took me just about a day and a half to get to Phoenix. As I got to the outskirts of the city I checked the girl's--Bella's--passport for an address. Her house wasn't very far from where I was, according to my GPS system. It took another five minutes for me to reach her street.

I parked on the other side of the street and walked over to stand beside the house. From there, I could hear a heartrending conversation.

"Phil...I haven't heard from her yet. And...and...look at the paper!" Renee was in hysterics. "If she was alive, she would have called!"

"Honey, calm down. If--." He was cut off as the phone rang. "Let me get it, Renee."

"Hello?" he answered the phone.

"Sir? Is this the Dwyer residence?" a male voice asked.

"Yes, this is Phil Dwyer. How can I help you?"

"My name is Shane Danvers, and I work at the American embassy in Marseilles, France. We were called to the scene of the crash of the American flight number 666 yesterday. I'm sorry, Sir, but your daughter, Isabella Swan, was on that flight to Florence. Her remains have not yet been found. Again, I am so sorry for your loss."

"My God," Phil whispered in disbelief.

"Oh no! She's dead, isn't she? No...no...no...no...." Renee cried hysterically.

All this misery.... All my fault.... If I could cry, I would have. I could never bring their daughter back. The least I could do would be to pay for her funeral.

I went back into my car and pulled my checkbook out of the glove compartment. I wrote a check for $15,000 from my false identity's bank account. I sealed the check in an envelope, got out of my car, and put the envelope into their mailbox. Now I had to face my family.