Her small, slender hand fingered the picture of her parents, who were smiling happily. She wondered how they could stand to be apart, when they looked so complete. Whole. Certainly she'd never feel the emotion of true, pure, love. It wasn't something to take for granted.
Different.
She'd always run on her own, never quite part of the crowd. She was off. Kids had never quite got what made her tick, why she did what she did. Not that she was loud or annoying, she was far from it. She had always been quiet, the bookworm.
Different.
If someone asked her who her best friend was, she would have no answer. Any questions about her social life went unanswered, left floating in the air.
Different. Off.
Something about her warded off all children, but no one quite understood. She didn't have a disability of any sort, if anyone asked, they would call her gifted. But she spent her childhood alone, as if she were the shadow instead of the person.
Different. Strange.
Her hand moved to a picture of her and her mother, her father taken out. He was alone now.
His footsteps made no sound as he walked next to her, silent. She could feel his joy at her presence, although she had no clue why anyone would enjoy her company.
"Do you love me?" The words spilled from her mouth without her noticing, giving her no time to stop them. She looked away in embarrassment.
"Of course I do, silly human." Came the boy's voice. He was so lovely. His bronze hair blew in the wind, and his voice was like melting honey. She was like butter, and he was the knife.
Her head jerked up from the pictures, her eyes alarmed. Who had the beautiful boy been? And why did he love her?
"Maybe someone will love me." Marveled the 12-year-old Bella Swan. Her spirits rose, and she smiled shyly at herself.
Something told her the boywas out there, waiting for her. Somewhere.
Accepted.
In Denali, Alaska, Edward Cullen sat, daydreaming of the girl he knew was out there... waiting.
Soul mates.