One Step Closer to the Edge

Memo: Please note that a lot of the information that is in this little piece is NOT made up. There is a lengthy and very amazing biography on Esme Cullen which can be found on the Twilight Lexicon; the information that is there has either come from the books or directly from Correspondences with Stephenie herself. Some names, I do realize, are made up. I made them up for the sake of calling someone by name instead of calling them 'boy' or 'girl'. On that note, I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this piece. All the credit for the brilliance goes to Stephenie Meyer who is, did I mention, brilliant?

The wind whistled past her ears, whipping Caramel strands of hair about her as she stood in the clearing, her feet perched meters away from the ledge of a steep and ravenous incline. A small forest stood in silent witness as her eyes – sad and hollow, lifeless -- drifted down over the edge; the point of no return. The baby was gone, her abusive husband Charles, was back home from the war in Europe, and there was nothing left. Not for her, not anymore. The foliage behind her small frame, shuddered, groaned as if in silent pleas; they begged her not to jump, not to take her life. What was there to do? Who was there to help her now? Her parents had told her that the abuse she had taken from Charles was nothing to be talked of, nothing to hold against him and she tried to keep it to herself, tried to conceal the darkened skin tones his 'non-existent' abuse left in its wake. What would have happened to the baby if she had stayed? Would he have been safe from Charles' abuse, sheltered from the pain? For how long would he be safe? How long could she continue running like this? She had taken a job as a school teacher in the nearby town, but school teachers didn't normally move around so much, people would notice, word would spread, Charles would find her; and if not him, her family would find her. Like they had back in Milwaukee last time while staying with a second cousin, and she would have to move again; this time away from Ashland. What was the point now though? The baby was dead; infection of the lungs had taken him faster than it had taken to carry him in her womb; he hadn't even had a name yet…

Taking an unsteady step towards the edge of the cliff, she looked down, her cheeks streaked with wet trails leading down to her chin and jaw line; hair clinging tenderly to the moistened skin as the wind brought it life, strands dancing around her sullen and disheartened features. One step closer to the edge and it would all be over. No more Charles, no more abuse, no more pretending, no more running. This would be a final and definite end to a life of misfortune, mistakes and botched dreams. Just one step… a quick and inexpensive cure-all.

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Outskirts of Columbus; 1911

"Esme!"

A wheat field glistened dazzlingly in the setting sun and danced sweepingly in a warm afternoon breeze; a crude trail cut through the very heart of the golden sea as a man trampled the stalks frantically underfoot, his eyes wide in search.

"Over there!" A boy cried, his lanky form trailing behind the visibly older man, his arm outstretched and his fingers jabbing the air, pointing to the ending of the wheat maze.

"Esme! I told her god knows how many times not to climb that tree!" The man yelled, murmuring the last part more to himself than to the boy who served as his Shepard through the unknown.

"I told her not to!" The boy whined in reply, stumbling after the fellow before him as the older man broke through the edge of the wheat field.

A white form lay crumpled under the closest tree; the frame under the light clothing heaving and sobs reaching the man's ears as he approached, his gait quick, panicked. "Esme?"

"I'm sorry daddy…" The small girl sobbed lowly, tears streaking her face, her eyes puffy and red from crying, her leg twisted oddly beneath her.

Reaching down, the man gingerly scooped her up in his arms, "We have to go to the hospital." He stated to the small boy at his side, his eyes full of worry as he looked down on the shaking girl in his arms. "Get the automobile, Richard."

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