A Letter to Mr. Edward Cullen.
Taffy Isabella
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight!
Summary: Just got attacked by a plot bunny, and decided to write this. One-shot. What if Edward had left Bella for good, and Bella had gone with Jacob? My version of the story.
X-Y-Z-X-Y-Z-X-Y-Z
Dear Mr. Edward Cullen,
There is a high probability you don't know who I am, Mr. Cullen. Unless your sister Alice 'saw' me and told you of my existence. I always wonder if it would hurt you to know my mother moved on. I always wondered if my very existence would cause you pain as great as it caused my mother.
You see, Mr. Cullen… My name is Elizabeth Marie Black. I am the daughter to one Isabelle Swan-Black, my mother, and one Jacob Black, my father.
I won't go into detail on how they started dating. I'm sure you remember how they met, anyways. Just know, Mr. Cullen, it was the hardest thing my mother has ever done, letting you go.
My mother wouldn't ever discuss you with dad, even though he knew how much she was hurting. The only reason I know about you, Mr. Cullen, is because one weekend, my father was hunting. Dad hadn't been hunting in ten or so years, since before I was even born. I guess my parents gave up a lot for me.
I was six years old when one night I woke up to hear my mother screaming a few doors down. I ran to her room, afraid something bad was happening like I'd seen in the Horror movies. It took me a few minutes to realize my mom was asleep.
Mom was screaming and crying, Mr. Cullen. Her legs kicked frantically. The covers fell off the bed before I even got into her room.
It was a sunny day in our little house in Phoenix, Arizona, when we got the call. Grandpa Charlie had a heart attack. Mom was crying softly as she packed up bags quickly. I told her I was coming with her, and I was packed quickly. We left two hours after receiving the call.
We arrived in Forks six hours later. I remember seeing Grandpa Charlie on the bed, looking pale and sickly. The doctors pulled my mother aside to tell her that he wouldn't make it through the night. We took our time saying our goodbyes.
Eight hours later, the heart monitor finally beeped to an end, and two hours after that, mom and I began planning the funeral. It took a week to plan, another week to actually have the ceremony, and one more week to read the will. I remember I would always see mom crying as we passed by certain places. I guess those places reminded her of you. Especially Grandpa Charlie's house, which he left to my mom and dad.
My mom couldn't bear to leave Forks after being there for three weeks. She told me so one night while we were huddled in a bed in a hotel room. Dad and mom discussed it and they decided to move to Forks, and I, of course, would just be along for the ride. I didn't mind, though, Mr. Cullen. I've always liked the rain.
We moved in almost two weeks later. You know, it's a good thing it was Summer time, otherwise I probably never would have passed my sophomore year.
It was one of the first weekends we were there. Mom was having her old room completely renovated. I guess it must've hurt her to much to look at the room, that you had once stayed in almost every night with her.
My mom called a company out from Port Angeles to tear up the old floorboards, and replace them with new ones and carpet.
That's when we found it, Mr. Cullen. The things you hid so inconspicuously under the floorboards. We found your CD of compositions. We found your pictures, which you so graciously laminated, so they were in pristine condition. I think that hurt mom more then just seeing faded, rotten pictures. We found the expired tickets to Jacksonville, too.
Mom broke down.
My mother sobbed for five hours straight, curling in on herself and screaming and crying out in pain. I sent the workers away in the first five minutes, screaming for them to get out.
"WHY?! ED- EDWARD, WHY?! WHY DID YO-YOU LEAVE ME?! YOU SAID YOU LO-LOVED ME! YOU PROMISED T-TO NEVER-VER LEAVE ME. YOU… YOU LIED, EDWARD!"
I held my mother as she sobbed, and cried softly with her.
Mom died when she was fifty-four. She had breast cancer. I always seemed to be in tune with her thoughts, Mr. Cullen. Almost like I could read them, like you. I knew mom was thinking about how, if you had just made her a vampire, none of this would have ever happened.
My mother died on her fifty-fifth birthday. I held her hand as she passed on, and planned her funeral. My dad was too broken to even consider asking him to do it. I vowed that day that I would meet the infamous Edward Cullen, and share with him my story. The story that, I'm sure, would hurt him to hear.
It seems that won't be happening anytime soon, Mr. Cullen. You see, I am forty years old now, and I have breast cancer. The doctors don't think I'll make it another month. I am hoping that, if I concentrate hard enough on what I want, Alice will see and inform you of this letter's existence. And you know where I'm going to hide it, Mr. Cullen?
Right under the floorboards of my old room, right where I left the pictures, tickets, and CD. The house was put into my name after my father committed suicide. I was thirty years old.
You probably wish that you could cry, Mr. Cullen. Don't. I've cried enough tears for the both of us. My mother cried enough tears for both of you. Even my father, in the three weeks before he committed suicide after my mom died, cried enough tears.
I just needed you to know my story. Don't cry for us, Mr. Cullen. Don't wish to shed one tear. I don't know if you'll ever receive this letter, but I pray that you do, for your sake, and mine.
I have to go now, Mr. Cullen. My hand shakes so badly as I write this; it probably isn't even legible anymore. It is my turn, Mr. Cullen, to die, as all mortals must, one day.
Love, Forever and Always,
Elizabeth Marie Black.
X-Y-Z-X-Y-Z-X-Y-Z
Sorry if this was sad, guys, but you just can't ignore a plot bunny. I shed some tears writing it. Review, and tell me what you think?