upset | edward cullen

seven

Now, after so many years, I understand what the Coldness was and where it came from—this sense that everything is lost, and worthless, and meaningless.

LAUREN OLIVER

TW // domestic abuse

EDWARD'S POV

Her room was full of windows, posters on the wall, a piano keyboard in the corner, and a desk with a bookshelf. The room was clean although her desk was messy, books and pages strewn about, it was telling off a creative and busy mind. On her bedside table lay a well-loved paperback, Lolita. Interesting choice.

I heard her greet her mother downstairs, her mother's thoughts inclined that she knew nothing of my presence. A couple beats later I heard Amelia ascend the stairs. She looked at me blankly like she had been the past hour, it was as if she was devoid of emotion. I was growing frustrated, curiously not at her but more-so at myself for not understanding her.

"Uhm sit." She wasn't whispering meaning I could also assume her mother wouldn't hear us. Her mother was downstairs in the kitchen cooking from what I could hear. There was only one place for me to sit besides her desk chair which was too far so I sat on her bed. I felt an ache where my very dead heart was.

"You were going to tell me why he treats you like that?" I could tell she was about to answer. A hint of hesitation on her face as she opened her mouth to speak.

"He's angry about something most likely work and he takes out on me and my mother, this is pretty mild compared to what we've dealt with." She was still blankly speaking, no emotion. I felt like I was losing her. In that moment I would do anything to hold onto her to anchor her down with me.

"What else has he done?" Would making her think about the things he has done bring her back? No it would only push her further into her disassociation, I was losing her further letting her drift into the abyss.

"He's hit her, I tried to stop him and he hit me." She was still speaking robotically. I felt white hot anger towards him, how could he hurt her? How could he hurt such an innocent and pure being? I would find him and drain his blood slowly to account for all the years of anguish he had put her through. No it wasn't enough a death wasn't enough, a lifetime of suffering would be suffice. But then if he's lost her what worse suffering could there be? I was lost in my murderous thoughts when I looked up from my clenched fists to see her expression.

I searched her eyes for some inkling of emotion, nothing. I panicked.

Cradling her chin with one hand and brushing a stray strand behind her ear I leaned into her and brushed my lips against hers. It was a lame attempt at bringing her back to me but I didn't regret it.

When I kissed her I felt unmistakably alive and if this was what it felt to be human I wanted to feel it forever. It was as if my soul had reclaimed my body, giving me another chance to be good, to make up for my sins. Perhaps she was not my personal purgatory but instead my paradise.

I pulled away, watching as her long lashes fluttered open, a crease formed between her thick eyebrows. She stared at me as if I had done the most confounding magic trick of all time. It was better than the lifelessness I saw in her deep brown eyes moments before.

"You just kissed me?" A smile broke onto her face. I was convinced she was an angel, sent to set all my wrongs right. How did I deserve her?

"I did." She smiled impossibly brighter, it wad infectious. Amidst the darkness of this day we were smiling at each other. And then she leaned forward and kissed my cheek, as soft as a petal. If I had a beating heart it would surely burst. Instead I just felt a rush of joy.