Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any astringents thereof, Stephenie Meyer does, I'm just the devious writer who manipulates the characters. I do, however, own Hannah Zacharchuk. D
Wish
Part One: Arrival
I slipped into my bed, looking to my bedside table, I saw the two books. I picked them up gingerly from their place of honor and lifted my pillow; I slid the books under, side-by-side. I looked at their covers. Twilight on the left, New Moon on the right. (And Eclipse on the way—coming out sometime this year, or the next.) I replaced the pillow. It's the first time I've tried this; I hear if you put a book under your pillow before you sleep, you'll have dreams about the story. It was worth a shot; hey, why not? What could possibly happen?
I rested my head on my pillow, feeling the slight edges of their covers. I snaked my hands under the pillow to touch the covers of each book.
"I wish it was real." I murmured sleepily to myself, sighing. I swiftly drifted into unconsciousness.
I awoke groggily to the feeling of my lumpy pillow. Wait, my pillow wasn't this lumpy...This wasn't my pillow. And the smell was wrong; it smelled too clean, like disinfectant. And the mattress was stiff and the sheets were thinner than they should be.
I opened my eyes, which took in bland, white, tasteless surroundings. Well. This definitely was NOT my room. But why was I in a hospital. My next thought was directed to my books. Where were they? I quickly glanced around, being more observant; and I saw them on a wheel-in bedside table to my right. Further to my right was a door that, I assumed, led to a hall like in most hospitals on the planet.
I looked them over, to make sure they weren't damaged. Good; they weren't. I treat my books like they were the most important thing in the world. And to me, they were. I really love my books. I have stacks of them in my room. By the way, where in the world was I?
"So, you're awake now, I see." Said a very appealing voice.
I looked up, surfacing from my reverie to see a male model before me in a white lab coat. I gasped audibly, staring at him in incredulous disbelief.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." The handsome man apologized.
I quickly regained my composure, an art I had down to a science. "Oh, it's alright, Doctor." I said, smiling pleasantly.
He gave me a concerned look. My heart was doing pirouettes in my chest. He could probably hear it. But his concern was unneeded, I wasn't scared. I was overjoyed, against all sane logic.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You're in the hospital."
"Yes, but where is this hospital?"
"Forks, Washington." He stated it as if he doubted my current lucidity. Frankly, I was doubting my lucidity.
"Could you please repeat that?" I asked, to make sure I'd heard him right. I kept my tone polite and my expression blank.
"Forks, Washington." He answered obediently, carefully monitoring my expression.
"State?" I confirmed.
"Yes," he replied, growing more concerned.
"Ah."
"Is there a problem?" He asked, taking a step closer, probably afraid I'd go into shock or something.
"Well, yes. I shouldn't be here." I said matter-of-factly.
"Why is that?"
"Because I shouldn't and can't be."
He didn't understand what I meant, I could see that in his confused expression, so he asked a different question.
"What is your name?"
I debated with myself wether or not to give him my real name, but if things went how I thought they might, he'd find out eventually. And besides, what did it matter? I was probably insane anyways. But if this was really happening...could it really be possible? I wasn't exactly 'normal' by any standards. I was always...different from other people. Alternative. That's what I liked to call myself. I decided to give im my real name.
"Hannah Zacharchuk." I answered, "and how did I get here?" I gestured around the room as a slight hint.
"You were found near the hospital, out in the woods, unconscious and holding these two books," he gestured to them with a quizzical look at me. "Do you have any family in town?"
"No, I don't live here and I don't even know how I got here." I answered blankly.
He gave me a puzzled look, raising a perfect eyebrow.
"May I have a glass of water?"
"Of course, I'll be right back." He swiftly left the room without a sound.
He returned a minute later, bearing a plain glass of water. He handed it to me and I took it gratefully. My throat was parched.
"May I ask what you're name is?" I asked, raising the glass to my lips. I already knew what the answer was, but it still shocked me to have my suspicions confirmed.
"Doctor Carlisle Cullen at your service," he said with a mock bow, smiling.
I choked on my water when he said his name. He stepped lithely to my side as I gagged on my water. I finally swallowed it; with difficulty.
"Are you alright?" He asked hurriedly.
"Yeah," I coughed, "it just went down the wrong way." I smiled sheepishly, cursing myself to keep my composure.
"You don't remember how you got here?" he asked suddenly.
I looked at him, my eyebrows slightly furrowed. I answered more slowly than I would have liked. "Yes, I remember going to sleep, in my own bed, then I wake up in a hospital thousands of miles away from my home after having been apparently found in the woods with a couple books."
"I think you have amnesia, then," Carlisle told me pensively.
"I remember everything, I just don't know how I got here."
He didn't reply to that, he looked like he was thinking something over. That made me a bit nervous, but it was to be expected.
"What's the date?" I asked, partially to further my point, and because I genuinely wanted to know.
"April 12, Saturday, 2007."
"Exactly. When I went to sleep, it was April 11, Friday, 2007." I smiled, feeling slightly triumphant.
"Where do you live?" Carlisle asked, watching my expression carefully.
"Ontario." I answered.
He raised his eyebrows.
"Ontario, Canada." I amended.
He looked at me in disbelief.
"Yes, that far."
His look faltered, and changed from disbelief to curiosity. I smiled sheepishly, shrugging. I had a habit of doing that, answering people's questions when they hadn't even said anything. He began to look at me with a new interest. Here we go.
'Ah,' I thought, 'here comes the interesting part of this story.'
"You should get some sleep," Carlisle said, "I'll come back later to check up on you." He smiled.
"Well then goodbye for now, Dr. Cullen." My smile was pleasant, as was the tone of my voice, but both seemed to held a knowing edge to them.
He turned and walked to the door. His hand extended to the doorknob. I sighed, closing my eyes. I might as well drop a hint.
"Three hundred and sixty-three years." I recited evenly.
His hand froze in midair. He turned around swiftly to face me. His face was a mixture of emotions. Shock, disbelief, incredulity, uncertainty, and fear—yes—fear.
"What?" Carlisle asked, his voice thin.
"Three hundred and sixty-three years." I repeated. Then I smiled, the knowing edge became even more prominent.
He did his best to give me a friendly smile, then left the room swiftly.
I sat cross-legged on the bed. I rested my elbows on my thighs, intertwining my fingers. My eyes were closed.
'Here comes the interesting part of the story.' I said to myself again in my head. A faint smile curled the edges of my lips in the way that frightened people. My dream came true.
This was going to be...interesting.
Well, how was that? REVIEWW!! (Please!)
Author's Note: (And the pronounciation of 'Zacharchuk' is 'Zuh-har-chuk.' It's Ukranian and it just happens to be my family name... I just wanted a name that was average, believable... lol... Oh, yeah, and three hundred and sixty three years is how old Carlisle is, and that's why it freaked him out. I checked in New Moon and at that time he's 363 years old, so you can guess this takes place very closeto the end of New Moon or shortly thereafter. Aaaand I think that's all...)
Part Two: 'Complications' coming soon!