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Carlisle

Carlisle's spent three hundred years alone. The loneliness never bothered him, it was like a distant cloud that always followed him around. Even under the thickest of clouds life blooms. It's under those tiny blossoming areas that Carlisle grew to be one of the wisest vampires that roamed the earth unbeknownst to human kind.

Carlisle never took notice of that cloud until he found his son, sweating his life away in a darkened cot.

He used to spend months after his departure wondering of the selfishness of even considering him a son. Edward Cullen came from a family, wealthy prosperous family, consisting of a cold-hearted father and a loving mother who saw through what everyone dismissed. How could he, a pitiful lifeless being, consider this boy a son? Edward Cullen didn't look far younger than him in appearance, especially in the rare occasions he smiled and his youthful glow emanated from his frozen face or when he used to close his eyes and pretend to be buried in the sleepless sleep of nothingness.

Carlisle looks down at his hands and turns them around in the sun that's blaring through the windows. Now the clouds have departed and Carlisle feels the true abandonment. His son is gone.

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