A/N: My second fanfic! I decided to go back into each of the Cullens' past, staying as true to the brief summaries Stephenie Meyer gave as possible, just for fun. I'm starting with Alice, my fave (please do not kill me, Edward fans. I will get to him too.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, would be able to get these published instead of writing them as fanfic if I did …
Aunt Bertha gasped, choking. She coughed and wheezed to no avail as her face turned first red, then purple, and stayed that way as she spasmed one last time and fell back into her bed in the stillness of death.
Alice woke, gasping, her fists clutching handfuls of sheets and heart hammering crazily. She looked at her sister, who still slumbered on obliviously, and slipped out of bed in her nightgown. She had to tell her parents.
The walk down the hallway to her room was eerily silent, reminding her of the quiet in Aunt Bertha's room. She knew with an unerring certainty that Aunt Bertha would be dead soon, but Mother and Father would be able to fix it. They had to.
Alice had always had visions, known things would happen before they did. She had known when Simon fell out of the apple tree, seen Mary's engagement before it happened. She had, wisely perhaps, kept her visions a secret until now, but she had to tell. For Aunt Bertha. Surely they would believe her?
She cracked open the door and peered at her parents, Mother looking small and careworn and Father stern and commanding even in sleep. Alice felt her palms grow sweaty with fear as she quailed at the thought of waking them. For Aunt Bertha, she reminded herself. For Aunt Bertha …
She went over to her mother first. "Mother?" she said timidly, shaking her shoulder as hard as she dared. "Mother?"
Her mother instinctively threw up a hand to protect her face, and then, as she registered who it was, smiled wearily. "What is it, sweetie?" she asked. "Did you have a bad dream?"
"I had a vision, Mother. Aunt Bertha's going to die."
Her mother didn't seem to know what to do, but then, gathering her strength, said, "I think we should wake your father."
She leaned over and said softly, "Dennis, could you wake up for a second? Alice needs to talk to us."
He threw out an arm, striking her a glancing blow on the face. "Wha—huh," he grumbled, pulling himself into a sitting position. "Womenfolk, disturbing a man's hard-earned rest. What are you doing here, Alice? I thought I told you not to wake us up for nightmares!"
Alice gathered her courage. "It wasn't a nightmare," she said softly. "It was a vision. I saw Aunt Bertha die."
"Nonsense!" her father roared, causing her to flinch. "You just had a realistic nightmare, that's all. Now get back to bed!"
" But Father," Alice said, "it was—"
"Now!"
Alice ran back out into the hallway and into her room, not stopping until she collapsed breathlessly on the bed. She panted, half sobbing, unwilling to believe that her father would have dismissed the death of his sister so offhandedly. How could he not believe her? She fell into a troubled sleep, filled with nightmares in which her father watched, impassive, as Aunt Bertha died again and again, and Alice was powerless to save her.
Alice woke late in the morning, which was odd. Usually her mother would wake them up so they could do the chores. She twisted in bed to look for her sister, but saw only the rumpled covers thrown back where she had gotten out. Hmm. This was getting stranger and stranger.
Alice, weary from the ordeal last night and possessed of a feeling of foreboding she couldn't shake, didn't bounce down the stairs like she usually did. In the kitchen her parents sat at the table, not eating, not talking, just waiting. Waiting, it seemed, for her.
Her mother, lines prominent on the grayness of her face, said, "Sweetie, we got some bad news this morning." She suddenly bent over and started sobbing.
Her throat clenched and stomach gave a lurch. Was it … ? Could it have been … ?
Her father finished, her mother obviously unable to speak. "What your mother is trying to say," he said gruffly, "is that we received the news that Aunt Bertha is dead this morning. She died in the night."
You likey? No? Revies, or I send the Volturi after you …