Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight that's by Stephenie Meyer

A.N. Sorry this chapter not beta yet, I'll replace it once it is.

Haunting Past

Esme's POV.

I grew up on a farm on the outskirts of Columbus; I had a pleasant childhood there, until I was in my twenties, that was when everything changed. My parents forced my marriage in 1917 with their friend's son, Charles Evenson. It was an unhappy marriage because he was very abusive behind closed doors and he threatened me not to tell and pretend to live this picture perfect life.

He seemed friendly when we met but it was all just an act and I fell for it, his fake smiles sweet words, and thoughtful gifts. He revealed his true colors the first night after the wedding, where he roughly threw me on the bed, for the marriage ritual. I tried to resist his advances but it only made things worse, he pushed himself harder onto me, binding my hands above my head so I couldn't fight. He then whispered that I was all his now and that I had to follow whatever he said because being my husband he owned me. I said that wasn't true and he slapped me so hard that I blanked out for a few seconds.

"Don't talk back!" he yelled at me.

I started crying and he told me to stop but I couldn't the tears kept flowing over my eyes. He knocked my head against the headboard trying to make me stop and he continued until I was unconscious.

It wasn't until morning before I regained consciousness, and I couldn't remember anything from that night. Maybe because I was out cold or maybe I just didn't want to and forced myself to forget. All I knew now was Charles was gone, my body was sore and my clothes were in shreds. I gathered some new clothes and a towel then headed to the washroom for a shower.

Looking in the mirror I couldn't recognize myself, my face was bruised; my lip swollen with dried blood in the corner of my mouth, and my hair was in mess, caked with sweat and blood. The shower was the most painful experience I ever had as the water washed over my head; it stung the open wound of where my head contacted the wooden bedposts. I could also feel a bump forming around the tender area and as I soaped my body I found new bruises everywhere covering almost every part of me.

This continued every night and every morning I looked in the mirror at the miserable creature I am. I've felt so dirty after he touched me that even after the shower I couldn't wash away the shame it left. I couldn't believe how low and unworthy being with him made me feel.

Finally, he was recruited to war and I was so relieved he left, I didn't even mind being alone. I began studying to be a school teacher and was able to earn a degree to teach. But once he returned he was furious, he threw the hard covered text books at me before ripping them up and throwing them into the fire place. A woman isn't suppose to be working, she is suppose to stay home and serve her man he informed me before continuing where he left off.

After another month I couldn't stand reliving in the same conditions again, I was able to suppress myself before, lie to myself it's not that bad. But after he left for war and I had my first taste of freedom, I couldn't stay here, I needed to go….

Finally I decided I had enough abuse, this has to end. I didn't care if my parents thought I was a disgrace, I couldn't take it anymore. A couple nights later I realized I was pregnant, that gave me that extra boost of courage to runaway. I couldn't bring a child to this abusive household, couldn't bear to have it suffer like me. Taking the route up north, I already devise a plan to become a teacher and we could both live in small house together. Income wouldn't be very much, but it'll be enough to support us to have a simple and happy life.

That dream didn't last long though because my son died a few of days later after he was born, from a lung infection. When he left, it felt like a part of me died with him. I was under depression couldn't eat or sleep, just kept on blaming myself for his death. That I didn't look after him like a good mother should have, maybe if I stayed with Charles he would have changed from having a child. My condition worsened as all the guilt piled up from the loss. The resolution was death itself, I was already in living Hell; at least death might reunite me with my baby.

I climbed the cliff which hung over the beach over a pile of jagged rocks. I planned my suicide to be an accident so it wouldn't ruin my family's name. I camped up there that night and set of ropes as props for the scene to look as if I fell off from the slippery stones while scaling the rocks.

In the morning as the sun rose, it casted it's light across the sea giving it illusion of melted gold. It was a beautiful sight and the last; I thought I ever see. I took a deep breath of the salty air, closed my eyes, blanked my mind and just walked off.

The fall was a rush, as I fell to my doom, but even as I hit the rocks, I didn't feel pain. It was either from the peace I had now or the cold, numbing my body as water took me under. I was aware of my bones shattering but it felt like nothing. It was as if I was awake, looking upon my body from the outside with my soul already one with nature. The best way I could try to explain this sensation is comparing it with going to the dentist. The dentist shoots you with anaesthetic that numbs the portion of your mouth but your mind is still alert and you know they are drilling into your teeth but no pain is associated. It's not till after when you feel the burn and damage they've done a day or two later, which is exactly what happened.

A while later, I awoke I'm no longer in currents of the water going back and forth. Instead I'm on my back on solid ground, with pressure plunging down against my chest. Ice cubes are crashing against my lips, forcing them open and bringing an icy fog that's blown down my throat. I peak through my eyes and get a glimpse of gold. I'm thinking is it still the sun on water...? Or maybe it's my passage to heaven…? I can't think anymore as I fall under what I thought to be eternal slumber.

Blackness was all I felt, infinity amounts of emptiness surrounding me, just nothing. Was I dead and this is all I have to face till time stops or has it already? I couldn't tell but it was peaceful, no thinking or feeling, only blankness. But it was still early for it to be over; death wasn't going to cut me some slack.

A tiny white orb appeared through the vastness of the darkness and continued growing bigger and bigger. But it wasn't actually growing bigger; it was me who was moving closer, a force as strong as gravity pulling me towards it. As I enter the tunnel, memories flash by my eyes. I now understand the saying: of your life passing by before your eyes when you die. My parents are holding me when I was born, me as an infant growing up, on a swing attached to a tree outside the house and my first time riding a bike with my father spotting me. Then my adolescence years, I was laughing with my gang of girlfriends, my failed attempt of sneaking out my window by climbing a tree, leading to me to be treated by a very handsome doctor for my twisted ankle when I was sixteen. Then the most recent events of my abusive husband, my child alive in my arms, to his death on the hospital bed, to my following death. I was reliving it all.

Now the pain is catching up, I feel the burn in my lungs of not being able to breathe, the pressure of the world weighted above me, pulsing pain on every broken bone on my body. My heart is racing in circles in a nonstop cycle that keeps going faster and faster. It's as if my heart became a machine gun, continuous assaults of bullets are ricocheting around my chest and constant reloading adding extra punch to the small cavity. I thought death was supposed to be fast and painless, but this is torture. It feels like my heart will burst any minute maybe then it'll be over. Little did I know that it was far from over, it was only just the beginning.

The frantic pounding of my racing heart, brought on this heat that rapidly turn to a burn. I was burning up inside from the core of my heart through to every organ and part in my body. Fire consumed me like a fever I couldn't sweat off, and continued its flaming path through my veins. So this how it feels like to burn in the mighty depths of Hell, didn't think I sinned that much to end up here, but suicide is pretty high of the list of sins to send me here. Guess I won't see my son at the pearly gates of heaven after all. Dread and depression took over and I didn't even care about the pain anymore. I actually wanted more to drown out the deeper pain of sorrow but as if heaven can hear my thoughts, they didn't grant my wish. The pain dulled and it didn't bother me anymore, somehow it was part of me now.

Just when I start to think I'm stabled, a new change occurs. The fire retreats back to my heart increasing its already overworked pace, both in coalition with each other. The rest of my body is now freezing while my heart is burning up to a point where it'll either turn to charcoal or explode from beating too hard and fast. The flames eat away at my heart until it snaps leaving no sound or movement after. The fire is put out immediately when my heart stopped beating like the power supply was suddenly cut off. I blank out just like a computer would but also like a computer, I restarted.

Frustration courses through me when I realize this. I wanted to darkness to erase the past but the light still finds me bringing forth unwanted memories. I had a painless death but suffered the latter burn. When I wanted the burn to overpower everything else I became immune to it. I wanted death but nature is letting me live, why must play God play this is a cruel joke me? I give up no point fighting the force that'll always get the better end, might as well play along and see what fate has in stored for me now.