(A/N - I do not own The Twilight Saga or the characters in any way; all rights are reserved to Stephanie Meyer)
Breathe Again
(Esme's P.O.V)
I had been suffocated my entire life by the people who I thought were closest to me. My parents, my husband, even society – although it wasn't that surprising. They had expected so many things from as person such as me.
My parents need for social recognition and their actions only influenced by a past of misfortune, rents to be paid and a treacherous landlord who threatened us with the prospect of becoming homeless every month we fell short in our payments. I couldn't blame them for wanting me to marry Charles Evenson, the wealthy son of a banker in town, who had surprisingly, taken quite an interest in me.
However, I didn't take quite the same interest in him.
The man my parents intended me to wed had something about him that I couldn't put my finger on. The early days, when he would take me out places and around town in his pride and joy which was his car, he seemed somewhat pleasant, but his eyes. His eyes scared me, suffocated me. They would find my own eyes, connect with my own eyes and catch me suddenly, scolding me for something I had yet to do wrong. The spark in the depths of the black pools was not something I related to charm, for it was cold – almost harsh as it contrasted with the dark brown of his eyes.
He was, as I soon found out, a man in whom the more rational part of my mind had always told me to ignore, to keep away from, but I couldn't. I couldn't keep away from him if I wanted to breathe again and so I agreed to marry him, agreed to give into my parents' pressuring, agreed not only to tie myself to a man I found hard to love, but agreed to allow him to suffocate me again.
Charles was, manipulative, greedy and overpowering. He liked to, if I remember correctly, constantly remind me of who was in charge, who brought the money home, who I was to remain loyal to if I didn't want a black eye the next morning.
He suffocated me like my parents had before.
Only once before did I find any relief in my world. The relief, it seemed, came when suffocation should have become worse, when I should have not been able to breathe due to concern for my husband. But while he was at war, my world finally slowed enough for me to see the good in life again. The shadows of my life left with my husband and the light began to finally find its way back into my broken soul, healing me just that little bit, but not enough that I would become complete again, for when I finally began to feel as if I had healed, Charles came home, and so did the shadows which stole my light.
And thus the suffocation began once more, only this time it was worse. For I knew, although I could never admit it out loud, that this suffocation Charles brought back with him is what would finally kill me.
And I guess, in a way, it did.
For if it wasn't for him I wouldn't have fallen pregnant and fled to Ashland with my unborn child. I wouldn't have had to have started over living a lie in a place which was alien and the people didn't know me. I wouldn't have had to be scared that he would find me every waking moment. I wouldn't have had to gone through childbirth alone and scared in a hospital room with a doctor I didn't know, and a nurse who offered me no comfort. I wouldn't have had to have experienced the grief of losing my only child alone.
I wouldn't have flung myself over the cliff, wanting my untimely demise.
Yes, Charles suffocated me. He was always there, at the back of my mind, his imaginary hands always tightening just that little more around my neck each day, until finally, all air from my lungs had disappeared and all hope escaping with it.
Carlisle, he was a different story; Carlisle, the doctor from my past, the golden eyed man who understood my sixteen year old self more than those close to me did, taught me to breathe again. The fire that burned through me for three days felt like hell claiming yet another victim. I wasn't ready to meet my demons, I wasn't ready to come to terms with the sin I had committed during my short life.
However, as I look back, I remember the burning only as something that Charles' hold over me could not survive. Carlisle's love so pure and righteous removed Charles' hands from me, and the burning however painful it may have been, allowed me breathe again, removed me from the clutches of the shadows I had lost myself within.
Yes, Carlisle was the breath within my lungs, the light rebuilding my soul. He stopped me from suffocating in the darkness of others, he helped me escape and that is why now, as I watch him from the other side of his study, his brow furrowing in concentration, I still can't quite understand why someone as perfect as himself chose someone as imperfect as me.
It puzzles me, although he's told me multiple times before he loves me. But I don't question his love, even though I don't deserve it, because I know fate wanted us together. So when he closes one of his medical journals and looks back to me, his golden eyes locking with mine, I smile fondly. He walks over, his hair messy compared to its usual smile.
"What are you smiling about?"
I shake my head innocently. "Nothing," I reply.
But as my Husband's smirk becomes a grin, I know he's sussed me out, and so he asks again, "Really?"
I shrug, but it's not convincing, so I answer. "I was thinking about you."
He gives me his hand and I take it, his fingers soft as they fold around my hand. "Good, because so was I," he whispers as he pulls me into him, his hand falling from mine but snaking around my waist to join the hand that's already there.
We stand there, time moving, us unchanging until his voice breaks the silence that has fallen.
"I love you, Esme."
I smile into his chest, holding him tighter to me as I reply in a murmur, "I know you do." There's another pause and I reply even quieter, "I love you, too, Carlisle," because while he is able to convey his emotions through words, my words seem rather small and pathetic. For I know that no matter how many time I tell him I love him, my gratitude for my saviour will never be able to be shown enough through speech. So I tip toe, tenderly wrapping my arms around his neck meet my lips with his, feeling as his hands searched my familiar body.
We pull away and a small laugh emits from his chest. "My saviour," he whispers as his arms find me again.
"My hope," I respond.
And I know, although I've thought about it very hard many times in the past, that I will never truly understand why he chose me. All I do know, however, is that he's allowed me to breathe again. For I have finally found the person I used to be.
A/N – A quick one-shot for you! I've been wanting to write another Carlisle/Esme moment for a long time and I've finally done so.
I truly love writing about these two characters. Their love is something so unique to them throughout the entire saga and it's just so beautiful.
Anyways, if you have time to review, please do! They make my day and I truly do appreciate the feedback.
Thanks, Katie1995. :)
