Love Story • Edward Cullen

•08•

When I heard the news, I was devastated. Vecky, the love of my life, had fallen victim to a car crash that left her in a coma. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was just some stupid prank that my family tried to pull, even if it wasn't like them to do this, but I didn't want to believe it. It was all my fault. She would have never gotten into that car if I hadn't saved Bella from that crash. Or maybe I could have stopped her from going with Alice and Jasper and instead have made her come with me. I couldn't change the past, but I can change the future. When she wakes up–if she wakes up–I will protect her with my life. I will make sure that this will never happen again. Vecky is the best thing that's happened to me, and I don't want it to be the last.

I was currently in my room, sulking. I've been in here for the last several days. My family sometimes stands by the door and begs me to come out, or to hunt with them or go to school, but I can't. Nothing matters anymore now that Vecky is gone.

A part of me regrets saving Isabella Swan. I don't know the reason I did it in the first place–maybe it was a part of my damned soul looking for redemption. Or maybe it was her blood that sang to me like no other–that completely drew me in–and made me save her. Whatever the reason was, I cannot allow myself to make a mistake like that again.

I heard a knock at my door. I could already tell who it was. Her thoughts were louder than normal, and I knew she felt guilty about what happened. It was Alice. I contemplated ignoring her—something that I never thought about doing until the accident. I needed someone to blame, and my options were between Alice, Jasper, or myself. Sometimes I blame everyone for what has happened, and sometimes I blame neither.

Alice was there. Jasper was there. They're both supernatural creatures of the night, damned to roam the Earth for the rest of eternity, yet they could not save one human girl. It was ironic and a little pathetic, really, how easily I saved a stranger from a car crash, yet the people I consider family couldn't save the girl who means the world to me.

So considering all the factors, I was ignoring Alice and Jasper. I had isolated myself in my room because it was easier to hide than to face the consequences of my actions and the two people who I've grown to resent with each passing second.

My thoughts were interrupted when another knock rang throughout the house. Should I answer it? Yes. At the end of the day, Alice is like a sister, and my blame is misplaced onto her. Will I answer it? No. I don't think I can stomach the conversation after she destroyed the only thing i had left.

"Edward? Can we please talk?" Alice asks, her voice much quieter than normal. She has grown guilty. I close my eyes, hoping that she'll disappear if I keep them shut long enough. Maybe this situation will disappear as well. It doesn't.

The clock ticks. Its consistent sound is a reminder of times endless drone to eternity. It'll never stop. I will always roam this world, sentenced to a fate worse than death. I pray to God for forgiveness for the crimes I have committed to deserve such a sentence–my lover comatose and myself bridled at my family. This isn't their fault. It's mine.

Another knock rings out, loud and impatient. I should not keep my dear sister waiting despite the voice screaming in my head to continue to shut her out. My anger is like a red flame, unwavering in its embers. I saunter to the door, holding back a sigh. I didn't want to talk to her, or anyone for that matter, but she sounds desperate and I know she has been desperate for the last several days. In that half-second between her knock and the next, I make a choice. I decided that I will not drag those down with me; I will sink alone.

The door creaks. The gold of my sister's eyes meets mine.

A pregnant pause.

Nothing is said in the oppressive silence; it's thick, heavy, and I fear I am suffocating. I intake a breath and I start to feel like I'm choking on the air entering through my nose. My lungs fill with fire. It burns, searing my insides and ripping apart my lungs, sprouting holes in my diaphragm. I stomach the pain. I don't look away, not from her.

"Edward..." she says, a solemn expression on her face. Her eyes beg me to allow an explanation, to forgive her, to hear her out. The desperation is practically swallowing her whole as she stands there. For once, the happiest person I know looks anything but happy. It sends a pang through my chest, seeing the pain I have irrevocably caused her. What have I done?

I sharply inhale, finding the courage to face her, to tell her I don't blame her. I find it, but it's fleeting. I force a weak smile—closer to a grimace—and open the door wider to allow her entrance. She immediately takes the silence invitation into my room.

She doesn't talk for several seconds; I don't either. There's so much to say, so much guilt and doubt swirling around both our minds. I force the fire out of my lungs.

"Alice..." I start, though the words die in the back of my throat and form into a lump of emotion. It feels like charcoal is lodged in my throat, a stabbing pain settled deep into my body, my very essence. "I... it's not your fault. It isn't. I apologize for acting like it is."

The relief is immediate. She barely suppresses a smile, but I see it in the way her eyes slightly squint and fill back up with her familiar spark. It makes me feel good, and in that moment I know I made the right choice. Tears that will never fall fill her eyes. Within a millisecond, she pulls me into a tight hug, making me freeze in surprise. She sniffles.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, her head resting in the crook of my neck, "God, I'm so sorry, Edward. I wish I saw it coming, I really do. If I could have just–"

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. You cannot blame yourself. Please, don't blame yourself." I say, my arms wrapping around the smaller frame of my sister.

We stay like that, her occasional sniffles breaking the still moment. Eventually, she pulls back, and her golden eyes meet my charcoal ones. Her expression turns serious, almost stern, as she begins to speak.

"You can't blame yourself either, Edward. You didn't know this would happen–you couldn't have known–believe me, that's my job. So instead of moping around, come out of your room and talk to the family, hunt, go to school, do anything, please. This won't make it better." Her words hit their mark, a frown tugging at my lips. Her expression softens but her tone remains firm.

"I miss my brother," she says, her voice barely louder than a whisper. I still, the charcoal in my throat growing three times in size. I can barely swallow around the waves of emotion hitting my body over and over again. She's right. I know she's right. Why did she have to be right?

I take a breath. It's hard, still choking, maybe even more so now, but a rise of determination powers over the ache in my chest, the scorching that's running through me like an eternal flame.

I nod.

"Okay," I say, my voice strong, "time to move on."