She had always wanted to know. She had always felt like she was holding onto her past like it was fraying string. Bella had helped her find some sanctuary, but it was not enough. It pained me to see her live her life like this. I craved to help her, but I knew there was nothing to be done. No matter what I did, I could not bring back those memories of her past. And even if I could, did I want to? Did I want her to feel her old feelings? That asylum must have been a morose and morbid place. Did I want my Alice to have to go through that again?
But on the other hand, would it not be a good thing to have a memory of your past besides waking up deserted on the cold street? Would it?
She always acted like nothing was wrong. Prancing and dancing around the house. Dressing Bella, and now dressing Renesmee. Marveling over Edward's pieces of music. Complimenting Esme's blue prints. Talking about Carlisle's patients. Being teased by Emmett, and assuring Rosalie that she looked good. And always comforting me. Always.
I was the only one who knew the truth behind her act. Not even Edward knew. She kept it hidden, and it only crawled out when she needed me most. The truth was that I was not the family's weakest link. Sure, I was one of the newest to the family diet, besides Bella, but I knew my past. I knew my past and I could move on to the future, and enjoy the present. But Alice couldn't. She couldn't go on forever without knowing what used to be.
But if the time came, how would I comfort her? She was the one always comforting me. I had grown tired of being so weak, but she had yet to tire from comforting me. She would rub my back and listen to my monotonous tales of my day. Of who I almost hurt. The stories of how I almost caved, but then the image of her beautiful face would appear in my head and I would remember who I was.
Alice was the one who would curl up on my lap and stare into my eyes for endless amounts of time. Who would be satisfied just watching me read about the Civil war. Who pretended to sleep, just to escape reality once in a while. Alice was the one who liked my scars. Who showed me that my past was a part of who I was, and that it should not be forgotten. She showed me that we learned from our mistakes. That our pasts made up the choices that we made in the future. Alice was my sun, my air, my comfort, my everything. Alice was my Alice. Mine. All mine. And I didn't deserve her.
I didn't deserve the right to "wake up" beside her every morning, a smile plastered across her face. I didn't deserve her to chide me for "not seeing how perfect I was". I didn't deserve the strong bond between us. The connection we shared. Both physical and mental. Our love was firm and never- ending. We never fought like Rosalie and Emmett. We never disagreed like Bella and Edward. We never viewed different opinions like Carlisle and Esme. We were always on the same page, our thoughts and feelings in sync with each other.
Answers and questions were asked and told through gestures and movements. No words were needed. We only comforted each other.
Alice had given me so much, and what had I given her? If only there was some way to make her see the light. Some way to show her, the past she had always dreamt of knowing. If only.