Ok, Celli's back! Woot woot. So I wrote this story awhile ago, but it was for a writing contest. NOTE: When I originally wrote this story, it wasn't intended to be Twilight related. There were no characters, plot lines, etc. Just the plain story. I changed it a bit later on to relate to Twilight, just because it was calling to me :P.

So the set up of the story: Bella cliff dived. Jacob never saved her. Edward is attending her funeral. NOTE: (again) some of it may not sound like Twilight. That wasn't intended. As I indicated before, I hadn't originally written this for Twilight. So some of the writing that I didn't catch might still be in here.

Disclousre: I do not own Twilight, no plot, no setting, no character, etc. No money is being made off of this. No copyright infringement intended.

On with the show! (Finally)

EPOV

The rain was falling gently from the sky. The small droplets of water from the heavens masked the tear tracks that were showing on my face. Everywhere I looked, people were clad in black. There, right in front of me, was the one person I loved, inside a box. This wasn't the way a person should lay for all eternity. No, they deserve to be free.

People live their whole lives held back by laws, restrictions, humanity. Shouldn't you be free, after your time is up? Shouldn't you be able to roam the Earth? No. There she was, in a black box, lifeless. Constricted. Once again.

She never did favor life. No, in fact, she had dreaded it. Wouldn't get up in the morning, for the fear of what the day would bring her, she was scared. Not much unlike a small child curled up in a corner, scared of the dark. Nonetheless, I still don't get why she did it.

I knew that if I was to look closer on my love's arms, I would see scars. I knew that if I was to look on the side of her head, there would be a gaping hole. Mocking me. Why couldn't I just have tried to help her? It was truly obvious that something was bothering her. But in my many faults, I didn't even try to help her as well as I was able to. There was so much I wanted to give her. I wanted her to have a family, go to college, and moreover, be happy. No, not that. I so felt that she deserved to have joy, not just temporary happiness. She deserved that everlasting happiness, la felicita che dura tura.

The shadows started to rise. I could finally step forward. As I very plainly knew that I wasn't welcome there. Not that I had done anything wrong to her or to her family. No, I was just simply there when it happened. Self-hatred still courses through my veins for not trying to stop it. Not that I could have if I tried. It was what she wanted, no matter how hard that hurts me--it was what she wanted. I would do anything for her, for what she would need and want. For with just one look towards me, I used to feel my resolve falter.

There she lay. The other half of me. The very person who held my heart, who helped destroy that hole in my chest from my mother's death. Now, said hole was returning. It was shredding me mercilessly. Threatening to take my life with it. A year ago, when she was still here, I would try to prevent it, because I still had something to hold me to this world. She had brought light to what was a bleak place. Now, my world is once again a darkened earth. There was no more sun, no more moon, and no more stars.

Emptiness. Darkness.

I looked on as the dull, but yet so brilliant at the same time, box that contained the most prominent person in the world was lowered into the wet grass. The grave stone bore words that I couldn't read through the rain. But I knew what it said. She was a loved daughter, aunt, niece, and sister. It would list her talents and everything that tied her to this life. There was one thing that bothered me on there. Seventeen. She had blessed this world for only seventeen short years. A few days ago, heaven received another angel. Another beautiful soul, spotless before God.

A single red rose was all I held. It signified so many things in her life. The blood that she had spilt from herself countless times with a single razor. The strong and beating heart that had tried so desperately hard to keep her alive in her last moments, as I did. It signified her boldness, like the way she would do things without regretting, always having a greater purpose. So much was lost on the fateful day, yet so much was gained.

I gently shut my eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing. It wasn't the way I should conduct myself, I should be strong. I was never strong. I couldn't be strong, even though it may seem that way to countless souls.

The devilish black box was now covered up with dirt. The last of the mourners had left the heaping mound, except for me. I looked all around me, and then set myself next the dirt pile. Tenderly touching the ground, in the exact spot where she lay six feet under, I placed the single red rose on top. Tomorrow, I will be joining that beautiful soul in heaven.