March 25, 1911
Diary,
I'm finally sixteen, but of corse I had to do something reckless. The birds chirped and he stood over me. He was a doctor. Dr. Carlisle Cullen was his name. He had blond hair and golden eyes. He was very handsome. It's too bad he's almost thirty- five.
I'm in the hospital now. Dr. Cullen is inspecting my leg. He says it should heal quickly. I just wanted to know how I got so luck as for him to find me. I was in the middle of the woods.
I know he knows I'm writing about him, but he doesn't care. He smiled and asked if he could read this entry. I said yes. He only smiled and said it was pure luck that he found me.
We're talking. He's asking me about my studies at school. I wasn't going to lie to him. I told him they weren't the best. He's very easy to talk to, much easier than either of my parents.
They don't understand me. They think I'm strange. Dr. Cullen doesn't. He says I'm a joy to be around, but, honestly, he probably says that to all of his patients. I'm just another clumsy girl who went against her parents orders and broke her leg.
I deserve it, though. I should have listened to Mother and Father. A lady isn't supposed to climb trees and fall out of them. They are supposed to stare at them in awe at their beauty and marvel at the trees that grew flowers and pick them.
Mother and Father have just arrived. I'm surprised they aren't yelling at me or spanking me. Their kindness might just be alive while Dr. Cullen is in the room. I'm not surprised, though. I was treated like a princess in company and a slave in privacy.
My child will never be treated as I am now. I will never spank my children. A scold will be enough for them to straiten up, but that will not happen because my children will be well behaved because I'll treat them kindly.
I wouldn't mind having children with Dr. Cullen. He seems like he would make a very loving and loyal husband, but I am a child. What chances would I have with a man who was so godly?
He wouldn't want anything to do with me in this way. He most likely see time with me as babysitting. I don't blame him. I do get rather whiney when I am in pain.
Dr. Cullen just left the room to get a wheelchair for me. My parents are yelling, too. They will physically punish me when we are home. I'm resenting my courage with them. My smart comments seem to get me into trouble a lot with them.
They call it talking back when I try to answer their questions. I call it trying to explain myself. That got me a slap in the face, but it wasn't hard enough to leave a mark. My parents aren't insane enough to leave a mark on me just yet. They were holding back the anger until we were home, but that's worse.
I'm surprised Father hasn't ripped this notepad from my hands. I'm writing while they are yelling. I'm telling them it's for a school assignment. They're believing me.
Love,
Esme Anne Platt
