Hello! This is a little project of mine to stop the writer's block I've been having.
Despite dealing with math three grades above my own, I'm having issues with my classes. Not to mention, I've recently been reading a new series titled the House of Night series (wonderful, except I HATED the last book)
Anywho, if you're a new reader of mine, I'm Twifan. I try to be original, and I hope this idea hasn't been done before. Check out my other stories if you wish.
I apologize in advance for any misspelled words, bad grammar or punctuation, repeated phrases, clichés, and so on and so forth.
I don't often edit my work, and I apologize for that.
And if you've read my stuff before, you'll know I don't really have any insight onto any of the topics I discuss, so all of it is from brief research or my own guessing. For instance, I've never actually been close to a pregnant woman or seen a new baby. I mean, my cousin who lives far away just had his first kid, but I didn't meet her until she was at least five months old. And not to mention, I'm the youngest in my family.
Enough said.
To my readers, I will be updating my other stories soon.
This chapter is titled after a song, called I'm Not Who I Was (by Brandon Heath – wonderful song, btw)
The story is called Little Orphan Bella. I'll admit, I am a fan of the musical Annie, but this story will not be modeled after it.
Ready? Read!
NPOV (none)
It was a dark night in the town of Forks, Washington. Rain, the constant state of weather in this little community, was splashing down in waves upon the ground. A heavy fog covered the black streets, but that did not stop one man from rushing to the hospital on the edge of town.
He peered through his small cruiser, trying to figure out what was going on. But he couldn't. Things were happening too fast, and the rain was just so heavy.
Meanwhile, a woman was laying upon one of the hospital's beds, screaming. Her damp curls were plastered to her beautiful face. She looked pale, very pale. The room was empty too, except for the few doctors who were standing by. No one was there for her or the baby.
"Oh, no," The head doctor had whispered when he realized the problem. The woman was having a complication. He wasn't sure if both of them would survive. The baby was already premature, and this complication could take either one of them, or both.
The man was passing the stores, lighting smearing across the rain soaked windshield. He was still going. He hadn't really wanted a baby, and had been uncertain of the entire thing. It wasn't that he did not love the woman, or the child. It's just he wasn't ready to be a father yet. But that wouldn't stop him.
But perhaps the storm could.
"Come on," he banged his hands on the steering wheel, pushing his car faster. His wife was giving birth, and he wasn't there.
The doctors at the hospital were rushing around, trying to save the screaming woman from certain death. But as the blood pooled, they realized there was nothing they could do. But just like the man, that wouldn't stop them.
They asked her. Asked her the question that she never expected. "Ma'am, your child may cause your death. Would you like us to abort?" A young nurse asked, stuttering slightly.
And the woman stopped screaming for a moment. Despite her breathless state, she managed to glare daggers. "Never." Her voice was croaky, and broke on the second syllable.
The man was nearing the hospital, getting so close…
The doctors told the woman to push with all of her might….
He swerved into the parking lot, the brakes screeching…
She screamed one last time…
He parked, and threw the car door open…
A baby emerged. Two female doctors cleaned her while others hovered over the woman…
He ran past the sliding doors, and to the front desk…
Those taking care of the mother panicked as the heart monitor slowed…
He took the stairs two at a time, rushing to the seventh floor…
Simultaneously, a baby girl gave her first cry as the monitor flat lined and the defilibrator was brought…
He was getting closer. Now he wished he was in better shape. Super speed, preferably…
One shock. Two. Three. The baby was clean now, and they wrapped her in the pink blanket…
The maternity ward. He made it. Nervousness abound, he sprinted to the room, ignoring the protesting secretary…
The two people met. But he arrived just in time to see the sad faces of the doctors. No response.
He stared in shock at his wife. He had loved her… so much… why? Why?
He collapsed onto the floor in denial. Tears streaming down his face, he managed to choke out the words he needed to say.
"What did Renee name her?" Anguish filled every word. It was a surprise that he could even speak.
"Isabella," The head doctor replied. He was older than the others. His blonde hair streaked with gray, or more like gray with blonde. There was despair on his wrinkled face.
"She named her before… she passed. Isabella Marie Swan." He held up the surprisingly healthy baby girl, now sleeping in her baby pink blanket.
But the man did not even look at his child. He only had eyes for his dead wife. In that moment, he made a snap decision, one he would not come to regret until a year later.
His eyes pleading, still not looking at the baby, told the doctor his decision. "Adoption. Send her to the orphanage. The one in Chicago." That was her mother's hometown, and very far from Forks. He knew he could not raise his child, not without her mother. He was not ready at the age of twenty three. He simply wasn't.
Perhaps if he had looked at the sleeping baby, maybe he wouldn't have made that choice. Maybe he would have broken when he saw the face, even red and round, it reflected her mother so clearly. Those doe brown eyes were identical to the woman's, and the tiny wisps of hair matched the curls that had been plastered to Renee's sweaty face.
But he didn't. He turned his back on the child, and rushed over to hold his wife's cold and clammy hand.
The old doctor looked down at the baby in his arms. He wanted to care for her. He saw so much that lay in her future. And he knew what would come to her in the orphanage.
But he and his wife were old. Their one child, Carlisle, was already fourteen. They were not sure if they would even be there for him in his later years. Either one of them could pass at any moment, just like the woman on the bed, and they could not abandon their son with a child.
So he placed the baby into the nursery. Tomorrow, social services would fly out and collect the newborn, send her to the orphanage. But for now, baby Isabella slept soundly, her small, pale hands curled into tiny fists, looking like an angel.
The baby was gone by the funeral. The father retreated into his small home, drowning in depression that nothing could shake him of except the return of his wife. Not a thought crossed his mind about his daughter's future. He was naive, young. He did not realize what he had done.
He had made the same mistake that one couple in Chicago would never do, but had no choice. Mr. And Mrs. Masen had left their son at home with his aunt. The aunt was unkind, and looked at the child as if it was a disease. But she was the only relative.
Precisely eight months prior to the occasion, bordering on nine, the Masens' were struck by a speeding taxi, killing them instantly.
And thus, little Edward Masen was sent to the local orphanage, for the aunt would have nothing to do with him.
For the second time in her career, the Orphanage owner, Miss Angela, who was all but 20 years old, found a baby on her doorstep. Figuratively, of course.
The two infants were the only youngsters in the entire orphanage, which was mostly inhabited by children well into the ages seven and older. Nevertheless, Miss Angela set the children in the same crib, Edward eight months older and larger. But things were tight, and only one crib existed.
So Isabella Swan slept peacefully next to Edward Masen. Both were content, and Edward had an arm around the younger baby, almost as if giving her a comforting hug.
But the next day, a foster couple arrived. They might as well have been an orphanage themselves, having another six foster children in their house. But they took Edward Masen, always having wanted to have their own baby.
And then Isabella was alone, entirely. She had no parents, no relatives. The only baby her age was gone. And still, she slept on like an angel, unbeknownst to the life that would soon become hers in the orphanage.
Short prologue. The chapters will get longer.
I wonder what will happen next?
Yes indeed, this is All Human and AU. BxE
Angela is THE Angela. The doctor is Carlisle's father. Charlie is the man. Edward's parents were Elizabeth and Edward Sr.
Review? They make me happy!
I'm curious to see what people thought of this…