Letters to My Angel
Bella was hospitalized when she didn't get better after Edward left. He doesn't come back in time to save her. All he has now are her letters.
This takes place during New Moon. It is Bella/Edward, but doesn't have a happy ending. AU Disclaimer: Twilight, it's characters, plot, etc belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
1. Chapter 1
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1092 Review this Chapter
He stands in the shadows of a tree, watching the small funeral. ‘How did this happen?’ His heart cries. When he left, he’d known that it would hurt her. He’d expected her to be down for a while, cry for him, but he thought she would get past it and move on. Didn’t he?
‘No.’ He thinks. ‘You were a fool to leave her. You knew it would destroy her as much as it destroyed you.’ And it has destroyed him; her death will result in his own. Hadn’t he told her that? “Well, I wasn’t going to live without you.”
His thoughts are interrupted by Charlie’s approach. ‘Goddamned son of a bitch. How dare he show up here? Hasn’t he done enough?’ Charlie stops a few feet from him glaring at him as though he can glare a hole right through. “I should kill you where you stand.” He growls out.
Edward doesn’t even flinch. It’s not as though he disagrees. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” The words are so insufficient, it’s laughable.
Charlie’s look darkens further. “I don’t want your apologies. I want my little girl back.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a stack of envelopes. “I wasn’t going to give these to you, but I think you deserve the pain. If you can even feel such a thing.”
Edward takes the letters, all addressed to him, there must be a dozen or more. His heart breaks again. She must have really believed he’d abandoned her as each one went unanswered. He raises his eyes to Charlie’s face. “Thank you.”
Charlie grunts a wordless response and walks away.
Thirty minutes later, Edward is sitting in their meadow. He looks at the stack of letters in his hands and thinks he’s never been so scared. He opens the first letter and begins to read.
January 7th, 2006
My counselor suggested writing a journal to get my thoughts out and start working through my feelings. It’s my second day in this place; my dad sent me here to “get better”. As if that is possible. All these months, I thought I was doing so well, pretending to be okay. I guess it was all for nothing; I didn’t fool anybody. I fell apart when you left; I tried so hard not to, but you took everything I had when you left. Don’t you know that?
This is how the world ends. Some scientists theorize it will end in fire; others say ice will be our destruction, but I know the truth. Three little words can destroy everything. “Bella, we’re leaving.” That’s all you had to say to bring my world crashing down. You said, “I don’t want you to come with me.” I knew what you meant. You didn’t want me anymore. It makes sense; I knew you were never meant for me to keep. I mean you are beautiful and talented and perfect, and I am…not, any of those things.
My dad hates you now; he blames you for what’s become of me. I suppose I should too, but I don’t hate you, could never hate you. I love you, always have, always will.
I guess that’s enough for today.
January 8th, 2006
I dreamt of you last night, nothing new there. We were in your meadow, lying in the grass, staring at each other. For a perfect moment in time, nothing existed but us and our love. You leaned in and placed a kiss on my forehead. Then my closed eyelids; it tickled. A kiss on my nose; then your lips found mine. You pulled away, too soon for my liking, and I looked into your eyes. You were smiling at me. Then it started to get dark; I couldn’t see you, then I couldn’t feel you either. It was dark and cold and I was all alone. I woke up screaming.
It reminds me of the day I though I saw you at the grocery store. It was three weeks after you’d left. I was walking through the produce section and I saw you across the way. Of course when I looked again, you were gone, and I realized how ridiculous it was to imagine you in the grocery store of all places. I laughed out loud; it was a harsh bark of laughter that sounded so foreign in my ears. I made through the check-out line and to my truck before the tears started. It was twenty minutes before I could see well enough to drive. I couldn’t make it down for dinner with Charlie that night; the tears just wouldn’t stop. When I woke from the nightmare that night, tears were running down my cheeks, and I wondered if they were new or still from earlier. By morning, the tears had finally dried up.
Oops, I’m dripping tears on the paper. I didn’t even realize I was crying again. Oh well, it’s time to end this letter anyway.
Edward raises the paper to his face; he can still smell the salt from her tears. ‘Oh, my love, I’m so sorry.’ The rest of the letters read much the same. Remembrances of times they had shared and times she imagined him after he’d left. Snippets from her life as she slowly unraveled.
"I write you letters; it keeps me sane. Hmm, that’s funny, considering where I am. I don’t mail them of course. I think it would be like sending a letter to Santa Clause. How do you send a letter to a myth? I know you don’t exist either. How could you? If a perfect, beautiful creature like you had existed, he wouldn’t have belonged to plain old me.”
She never did see herself clearly. Always insisting that he was so much better than she, she never understood that any goodness that he did possess came from her.
His heart breaks with every word of every letter she’d written. He thinks it’s good that he can’t create tears. He’s sure he would have drowned in them by now. His whole body shakes with the force of his silent sobs as with each word he dies a little more.
It was with trembling hands that he opened the last letter. Written just one week before, he knows it contains her goodbye. With that thought and a deep unnecessary breath, he begins to read.