Le Temps De L'innocence (Twilight) {Edward Cullen}

Tous Les Garçons Et Les Filles

I had slept quite late the night before after my silly obsession Edward Cullen wouldn't let me sleep and I took an empty canvas from my bag and painted his golden eyes.

The painting was by window now, drying. I walked towards it to check on it only to find myself looking out the window.

The rain had frozen into ice overnight. I frowned, this was just asking for an accident.

Once in my truck I tried to go as slow as I could, I was never a big driver.

I got to school safely and got out, grabbing the truck's door so wouldn't slip on any patches of ice.

I looked around the parking lot to meet eyes with Edward Cullen on the other side of the parking lot, next to a shiny new Volvo.

I looked down at my feet and I noticed the silver chains wrapping onto my truck's tires. Charlie must've gotten up even earlier than usual, put them on.

It caught me by surprise, it was little things like this that reminded me that Charlie really did care.

Then I heard an odd sound, it almost made me faint.

It was a high-pitched screech, I realized, I looked up painfully and saw Edward Cullen's face contort in horror.

That's when I saw Tyler's van.

The dark blue van was skidding across the ice, it was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was in between them.

I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting.

My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else, because the van was still coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me again.

"Fuck," said a voice and I was suddenly aware there was someone with me. It was hard not to recognize the voice itself.
Two long, white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van's body.
Then his hands moved so fast they blurred, one was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll's, until they hit the tire of the tan car.

A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt - exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.

It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward Cullen's low, frantic voice in my ear. 

"Frankie, are you alright?"

I kept quiet, processing what had happened.

"Frankie?" He asked again. "Frankie, you're turning purple."

That's when I realized I had stopped breathing. I took in air in a gasp but there wasn't enough air for me to breathe.

"You're hyperventilating." He simply said.

I nodded and tried to fan my face with my hand but he had me in an iron grip.

I needed to sit up so I could breathe but as if he knew what I trying to do he held me back once more.