"Edward!" Alice yells through her thoughts, catching my attention and abruptly breaking my concentration. I play a b flat instead of a b natural on my piano, and I cringe.
"What is it Alice?" I yell back, out loud of course. My mind was instantly flooded with images. A young girl about my body's age, with wavy, brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes stares at me. Her gaze is penetrating, and I have a sense that she is seeing straight into my soul. Her too-big lips and widows peak forehead give her a slightly enchanting appearance, and her soulful brown orbs seem to be acting as windows into her soul.
Charlie Swan's daughter, I realize, recognizing the upward curve of his nose, the large doe-like eyes. I almost killed her in class today. The delectable memory of her scent assaults me, and it takes all I have not to rush to her house and kill her now. Suddenly, the beautiful picture before me changes, blurring into a shot of her with me, my face full of an emotion I've never thought I'd ever have. Love. I puzzle as to how I could ever manage to fall in love with a human. The memory of her dark eyes is enough of an answer for me, and I sigh, running a hand through my hair worriedly.
The image changes again, this time to one of the young girl writhing in pain. Her back is arched off the floor, her eyes squeezed shut. I have a strong desire to see them open and examine my soul once again. Only, I don't even have a soul, where she so clearly possesses one of the kindest I've yet to witness. I search frantically for what is causing the girl so much pain, and my gaze settles on a bloody crescent moon on her throat. Anger flairs within me, and I examine the room frantically for the monster who could have bitten this angel.
"Oh," I whisper, hardly aware that Alice has appeared at my side, her hand placed comfortingly on my tense shoulder.
"I'm leaving," I murmur before sprinting out to my Volvo and whipping out onto the driveway. I careen out onto the road, heading to the docks to catch a ferry. I hope that once I'm in Alaska, I can rid my mind of the horrendous picture.
I know deep down that the image of my mouth, coated with Bella Swan's blood will forever haunt me. Still, though, I can't help but hope in vain that I'll be able to forget the last part of her vision. The part where the agonized face changed to one sculpted of icy stone.
A man can dream, right?