The Beginning Ch1
No one knows what's going to happen in the future, I swear. No one, no one ever. It's 1918 in Chicago, and the whole world is dying of influenza. I have no hope left, and I am ready to leave this world at seventeen, I suppose the headstone at my grave would read 'Edward Anthony Masen 1901-1918'.
Everyone has lost all their hopes in recovering from influenza, why, who wouldn't? There's not enough medicine and water for everyone in the hospital at all. Everything happened so fast; it's as if you're stroked by lightning, first my father died then my mother and then me.
"Save... save him. Save Edward, please... please," Mom said at her last gasp to Doctor Cullen, as he walked in.
"Mom!" I darted my eyes towards her. Her eyelids were fluttering, like a frantic butterfly's wings trying hard to survive from an attack. She gasped a few mouthfuls of air with her last breath and stayed still in her bed. I 'm a thinker, which means I usually think and someone else will do the work and I'll instruct them. Due to my personality, I only stared at my mother and pondered deeply about what I would do next.
"Doc? Doctor Cullen?" I whispered.
"Yes?" He tuned around slowly, smothering his frown.
I looked wide-eyed at him. "What does she mean by 'saving me'? Well, there is no medicine and whatever and I'm sure that will no recover, so..."
He muttered something intelligible and then raised his voice and said, "Edward, to save you, you must understand me or ... us. If you are changed by me, you have to follow my commitment."
I nodded and quickly replied, "Well, but first who… are you?" I took a deep breath, and Doctor Cullen glanced at me worriedly. "Whatever he's going to do with me, it's better than to die at seventeen, right? But, I don't even know what or who he is, and then I thrust my life to him…" I debated within myself.
"Alright, Doctor Cullen," He then strode towards me, slowly and expressionless. And in a flash, he bit me at the back of my shoulder. That bite was like sharp scissors cutting paper, smooth but firm. Afterwards, he sealed it again with his tongue. He straightened up himself and pursed his lips, as if something's bothering him.
A sudden burst of flame flowed through me; it couldn't be put out by anything. The flame burned my throat, keeping me mute; the flame burned through my veins and to my legs, not allowing me to walk. I was writhing in pain from deep down my heart. However, there was an invisible barrier which was fighting against it. It wasn't morphine, nor any other kind of antidote. That barrier filled my brain, giving orders to fight the raging fire. Despite how hard the invisible barrier prevented the fire, the fire had an advantage because it was stronger.
During the period of unconsciousness, my memories slowly perished. Inexplicably, some events still stuck to me like blue-tack. Eventually, the raging fire died down, literally, but it seemed as if it was still there but only temporarily muted, like pressing the 'pause' button of the amplifier.
My ears slowly became clearer: I heard every speck of dust being blowed by the wind; I heard every footstep of a person walking barefoot on a carpet. The numbness in my veins faded away slowly, as if water was being drained from a tub. I know I'm conscious, but I dare not open my eyes and leave this dream, for I don't know what the world would be out there. This sensation, this sensation of lingering in between to worlds—the real one and the tranquil one I am in now, feels carefree.
Apparently, everything always has an end, despite how nice it is. And so, I opened my eyes.