DISCLAIMER:

The characters do not belong to me. They belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Prologue

Fever spread like wildfire, through every single aching extremities of my body.

With every wave of pain and agony, I thought of my mother lying in her own deathbed, struggling not to succumb to the certain fate that took my father. As seconds slipped away, death surrounded me. "I believe he's taken a turn for the worse. His fever is rising," the nurses whispered amongst themselves.

My seventeenth birthday had come and gone unnoticed due to the Spanish flu that struck in 1918. Within months, many lost their lives. It was only a matter of time before we fell victim to the pandemic. I've spent the last five weeks in the dimly lit confines of ward 17A, a hospital room painted in generic shades of green.

Rain cascaded a single window adorning the cracked dappled wall behind me, and above it hung a clock, ticking seconds of my life away as the intravenous drip infused saline water in my painfully dehydrated and brittle veins. This happened to be the same room where I've also contemplated death so casually, outliving many others while awaiting for my own bittersweet salvation from what felt like the pit of hell.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, the attending night shift physician, tended us during our final hours. He fulfilled each need and request. He had shown us more compassion and care than any other doctor on staff. In fact, over the last 5 weeks, I've grown very close to him.

As I clenched the sweat-soaked sheets of my hospital bed and held out hope, my mother's voice resonated in my head, despite being admitted in another ward. "You must do everything in your power to help him," the loving voice said. "What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."

I was definitely in histerics by this time. The pain intensified, as it shocked me repeatedly. I moaned in anguish.

Moments later, Dr. Cullen quietly came to my bedside, a look of confusion on his face.

As I looked up, his golden brown eyes staring down at me in despair, I reached out for his hand as my heart slowed its pace. I closed my eyes.

I suddenly felt the cold night air brush my cheeks as someone carried me through the forest and across rooftops. The smell of pine and fir wafted through me, lessening my worries. I opened my eyes and looked at the stars as we soared. Was I dead? Or was it a wonderful dream?

He laid me down. "There will be no more suffering, Edward," he reassured me. "I will save you."

I smiled, comforted by these words. I found myself in the presence of Carlisle, in his home. I felt safe. Somehow I knew. The blinds were suspiciously lowered, blocking any natural light from shining through, and the apparent fact that he looked no older than 25. "It's almost over," he breathed. Fatigue settled in.

The pain no longer mattered as my mind drifted off, dreaming of heaven. As I took my last breath, he plunged his teeth into the soft skin of my neck. And then the fire came once more, tormenting my very soul, sentencing me to eternal damnation. Screams rippled from the bottom of my gut.

It burned stronger than ever, as it slowly raged and jangled through every nerve and artery.

"Soon, the pain will be gone and you will see, son," Carlisle said, as he choked up.

"Soon, this nightmare will be over."

I looked down from the peaked ceiling. The moonlight shun through the yellowed lace curtains draped across the window, reflecting off her beautiful soft pale skin. How was I so lucky to be blessed with such beauty? I sighed. Bella's heartbeat raced as she inched closer.

"Edward," Bella said. "Please," she pleaded, reaching out for my stone-cold hands.

I tried to remember why this nearly century-long memory flooded my thoughts as my sweet Bella sat anxious in front of me, waiting for an answer.

I wasn't sure where she was going with this.

Then it dawned on me. The one and only person I loved more than anything in this doomed, immortal life demanded to be turned, a destiny that has tormented me for the last 90 years, ever since I was turned myself. If only she could ask me something more simple, less dangerous.

"No. We've already discussed this, Bella. I'm not ready, you're not ready," discouraged by her attempt to persuade me.

Her face twisted in anger. "Will we ever be ready, Edward? Don't you lo–"

Hurting my Bella was intolerable. In attempt to stop her from arguing, I traced my finger across her soft, warm, luscious lips. I leaned forward and pressed my face into her hair, inhaling deeply as the scent enveloped every sense in my body.

I led my hand down her shoulder, causing her breath to quicken, and softly whispered.

"Sleep, my love."

Bella frowned, she never ceases to amaze me. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer to me, wanting to feel the warmth of her skin against my bitterly cold body. She dropped her hands in defeat and surrended to my gaze, settling herself comfortably against my chest. She pulled the silk purple bedspread over us, falling asleep almost instantaneously. "Yes." I gently brushed my hand against her face.

"I do love you, more than you could ever imagine."

Tomorrow would indeed change the path of our future as a family. Tomorrow, we're all leaving for New Hampshire.

Tomorrow, we'll finally bring an end to the High School charade and officially start college.

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Please feel free to comment and review, positive of negative. I'm new to the world of fanfics.

I'll take ideas, suggestions or feedback about my work.

Be nice, and of course – enjoy!

Maya