Disclaimer: Characters copyright Stephenie Meyer. Well, except the ones I made up, so I guess that doesn't count, does it? You know the drill, kiddos!

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I like to believe that when I met him, everything was a dream – a very good dream, as a matter of fact. Something along the lines of he-swept-me-away-because-he-was-so-beautiful sort of thing and that we could float into the clouds, never to come home again. But where can I start? Human memories are supposed to fade away with time yet I could never forget the first time I laid eyes on him. I was just a girl of sixteen who was desperately trying to rebel against my parents and everything they taught me.

I lived in the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio. I can't quite remember the exact spot. My father worked in Columbus, some corporate job I never understood. My mother – as much as I would like to consider her a "homemaker" – never was. Whenever my father was gone, she was usually gone as well: always with her friends, talking, gossiping about this or about that. I don't deny that they didn't love each other, for they did, and the only thing they argued about was me. Yes, I had friends; yes, I cared for my family, but wasn't there more? Shouldn't there be more than doing the same thing day after day? I wanted there to be.

I spent a great deal of my time – when not in school – outdoors. I loved open fields and wild flowers. I enjoyed hiking my skirt up high enough where I didn't feel trapped inside it. I often lay on the grass, careful not to get my skirt dirty or Mother would surely have a heart attack, watching the clouds go by, listening to the bird's songs, savoring the rush of wind.

"Esmeeeee!" the trill of Veronica's voice in my ear hurt.

I turned around, smacking her with my caramel-colored hair.

She brushed it away, sputtering. School just let out and we were walking home together as we often did. "Haven't you heard the news?"

I shrugged, but was silent.

Veronica hated this. She groaned. "C'mon! We'll have fun tonight, won't we?"

Oh, Samantha's birthday party. "I suppose so."

She smiled. "Yes, we will. I have already decided what I am going to wear. Have you?" She swung her lunch pail in her hand.

I nodded. "Yes, but I'm not sure I like it much anymore.

"Oh, Esme!"

I smiled. "I like yours though."

Veronica smiled. "I like yours. You can wear every color and still look beautiful."

I blushed. "Nonsense, Veronica."

"Ah, but it's true, Esme."

The road forked, and after a few parting words, Veronica and I split in opposite directions.

"I'll be there at seven o'clock sharp, Esme!"

I nodded, waving goodbye. "Yes, I know!"

Veronica's smile split from ear to ear as we finally turned our backs towards each other and continued walking. I looked up, attempting to shield the eyes from the sun. The sky was cloudy, a slight overcast. I switched my lunch pail to the other hand, careful not to drop the books I carried.

The walk home took no more than ten minutes. I sighed, taking in the house before I entered. Like almost every house, it was white with a front porch, displaying two windows on each side of the door. Sometimes I liked to sit with Mother and Father on the porch as Father drank whiskey and Mother sipped wine. It was idyllic, I had to admit, and it was home. I opened the gate and skipped onto each stepping stone until I reached the steps of the porch. I found Mother inside, sitting in the living area as Alexandra, our kitchen maid, prepared supper.

I kissed Mother on the cheek and she smiled. I liked her smile because it was like mine and because Father liked when I smiled.

"How was your day, sweetie?"

I shrugged. "Nothing interesting."

"Are you still attending Samantha's party?"

I nodded, taking a seat next to her.

"And Veronica is coming when?"

"She said around seven."

Mother kissed my nose, her breath smelled like cigars. "What about supper then?"

"Oh … Well, I think we are all having supper at Samantha's house." I glanced over at Alexandra, who was kneading dough.

"Did you hear, Alexandra? Esme will be gone, and it will just be William and I."

Alexandra nodded. She didn't speak much. I never knew why.

--

As soon as I had finished most of my school work, Mother allowed me to go outside until Father came home. I picked up a basket before going out, hoping to find a bounty of flowers to bring home. The clouds continued to cover the sun, much to my disappointment. I was careful not wander too far from the house, but I soon found myself enveloped in a field of wild flowers. I smiled.

From the field to flowers, I eventually found myself climbing up a tree. I managed to tie my skirt in a knot behind me so it wouldn't get in the way. My shoes weren't helping but without them, I didn't have any foot grip in simple stockings. I situated myself on a branch. I usually sat here until after dark, waiting for Father to come home. I could often see his silhouette as he walked towards the house, and I would watch as he and Mother embraced.

I stretched myself on the branch, clumsily standing up in order to reach a higher branch. I adjusted the knot in my skirt behind me, brushed my hair away from my face, and determined myself to reach the next branch. I thought I had my feet situated correctly, for I had climbed this very tree multiple times; I thought my hands gripped enough of the tree to make it, but I believe I overanalyzed everything.

A scream escaped my throat as I fell to the ground, landing on my leg awkwardly. I tried to stand up but yelped in pain. There was a tear in my stockings and blood seeped from a wound on my thigh. I groaned, trying to stand up again. Attempts were futile. Tears stung my eyes. I looked toward the direction of the sun, guessing that Father would be home in five minutes time. Surely, he would see me. I groaned again. Father. He would be angry at me for climbing the trees, perhaps angry at my mother for letting me. He said it wasn't "ladylike" to climb trees.

However, I was right. Father came five minutes later, asking me what I had done, telling me how atrocious it was for his own daughter to be climbing trees. He picked me up and carried me to the house, pushing the door open with his foot.

"Esme!" Mother shouted, shocked.

"Climbing trees, Catherine!" Father implied. "We have to take her into the city. Curse the doctor that is away!"

I sucked in the pain, which now felt as if it had spread to more than just my leg. We couldn't afford a car, so Father was reduced to using the horse and carriage to take me into Columbus. Mother came along, crying all the way, fretting over the tear in my stockings, the blood, and asking what on earth I had done with my skirt.

Fifteen minutes passed and we reached the small hospital. Father carried me into the hospital, demanding a doctor for his daughter who had just broken her leg and was bleeding. I flushed, embarrassed of my father, but then the pain overtook my leg again and I winced. Ouch.

"Sir, I'm sorry, Dr. Wilkner is out of town—" a nurse began.

"Out of town?! But he's a doctor—" protested Father.

"William, I—" Mother interrupted.

"Excuse me?" a voice said from behind, musical and capricious.

Father turned around, his grip on me loosened, I was afraid he was going to drop me.

"If you'll follow me, we can get her into a bed, casted, and you can be out of here in a matter of minutes," the doctor continued.

Mother and Father looked at each other and then at me. I looked at the doctor. I had never seen anyone like him. He was … handsome. Or maybe beautiful was the right word? His blonde hair was sleeked back, his skin was extremely pale and his eyes were … different. I had never seen such a color.

The doctor led us to a room full of fifteen beds. Only three of the beds were occupied by sleeping patients. Father insisted I have the corner bed, nearest to the wall, and the doctor smoothly agreed. He placed me on the bed and I winced in pain.

The doctor introduced himself as Dr. Cullen. He asked what my name was.

"Esme," I replied, staring into his golden – really, they were – eyes, "Platt."

"Well, Esme, it appears you have a broken leg, but don't fret, we will have this fixed properly and in a matter of weeks, your leg will be as a good as new." He smiled, and I choked at his perfection. "Dare I ask how you broke your leg, Esme?"

I flushed. "Uh… I fell … from a tree."

The doctor chuckled. "I see."

I could see my mother smiling from behind Dr. Cullen as she gripped my father's arm. Dr. Cullen gave me a medication which I swallowed with ease. The pain eventually faded which allowed the doctor to work with ease. My leg was soon casted, my wound cleaned and bandaged, and we were leaving a few minutes later.

"Thank you, doctor," my mother said.

Father nodded, but didn't shake the doctor's hand. I noticed Father was half a head shorter than the doctor.

"It's what I love, Mr. and Mrs. Platt," Dr. Cullen replied, flashing his brilliant smile. He then turned to me. "No more climbing trees, Esme."

I smiled. "I'll try."

His laughter reminded me of birds singing.

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Author's note: I gathered a vast majority of my information from the Twilight Lexicon (it won't let me put the website here so just Google Twilight Lexicon and it will give you the link) and the rest I just made up. Forgive me, it's been a ultra, super duper, forever long time since I've written a fanfic. So I accept cristism as long as it doesn't make my inner Esme weep. Of course, I like good reviews. And do, tell me if I should continue.

Also, I'm trying to get the historical time period right... Especially when it comes to doctors, broken limbs, marriage, and the different rights for men and women. I might need a little help on that so feel free to help and correct me.