Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to Stephenie Meyer.
A/N: This is another one of the pieces I came up with while trying to figure out the next move in my other story. Enjoy.
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Shattered
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The silent but rhythmic beating of my heart gently hums a soothing lullaby. Not nearly as soothing as the one that's in the CD player. The unremitting pulse of crimson fluids through my veins reminds me that I am still human. I close my eyes, letting the music take me away to another world, freeing my spirit of its gravity-laden body.
"Hello," his angelic voice breaks through the melody.
I readjust my head to allow my eyes to wander over his stunning beauty. It never gets old. I'll never get used to it. Pictures never do it justice. "Hello," I reply with a smile of warmth.
He walks the few paces from the window to the bed slowly, gazing at me. I sit still, mesmerized by his eyes once again, that beautiful shade of gold, with green creating the rim of the iris. There is no movement on the bed as he sits, positioning himself close by.
"What are you thinking about," he asks me, after a few minutes' passing.
The corners of my lips turn upward at my imminent reply, "You."
He chuckles and laces his fingers with mine, "Same here."
Within the past few months of us being together I had grown accustomed to holding hands. However, nothing could ever prepare me for the undoubtedly exciting shivers that sprinted through my body whenever I felt his touch, the same shivers of electricity coursing through my being right now. I close my eyes, trying to steady my rapid teenage heartbeat.
"You've fallen in love with Debussy, I see."
"What makes you say that?" I question him.
He laughs heartily, "The fact that you play it every night."
I hear my laughter joining him, "I guess that would make you right." He smiles again, moving closer. I copy his actions boldly, severely compressing the space between us to sit partly on his lap. He quickly modifies his position to conform to mine. Cold marble arms wrap around my body tenderly, acting as though this human were fine porcelain. I sigh with serenity.
Abruptly, he stiffens, picking me up and placing me solidly on the bed before standing and turning away.
"What's wrong Edward?" Worry is climbing quickly. He looks back at meā¦and my heart drops. I can feel it, in the pit of my stomach, twisting in sorrow at his miserable expression. He doesn't answer me. The placidity of the air is unnerving. With this silence I notice the song on the CD changing from "Claire de Lune" to "Moonlight Sonata". The depressing, heartrending composition now emanating from the speakers was my fear.
I open my eyes, feeling the bed beneath my back, the same position I was when I had drifted into my mind. Edward's last words before disappearing from my memory were, "I love you."
"You keep saying that," I sigh with disappointment into the empty room. The only authentic component left of my humanity begins to ache with that too familiar pain. Despair and desolation consume me once again, like it does every night, every night after I remember he's gone; that he left me. The saline droplets leaking out of the corners of my eyes are right on time, initiated the second I remember he said he wasn't coming back.
I turn and lie on my side after the sobs have abated, cradling my knees into my chest, afraid that if I don't hold myself together, I may very well fall apart. It's an attempt in vain for it has never worked since he left, and it never will.
The silent but rhythmic beating of my slow heart gently hums a lullaby. The unremitting pulse of crimson fluids through my veins reveals that I am still alive. The cracked, barren hollow in my chest burning in agony reminds me every day that he is gone, and that I am broken.
Did you like it? Review and let me know. Thanks.
Sincerely,
Melantha Nyx
