a/n: i know i've started a bunch of stories and i havent finished em lol but im too inspired to start posting this one. i don't really have a beta, so i do all of my editing myself. anyways, hope yall enjoy this one and the ending for piano man should be up sometime within the next week. so the things i'll be working on next will be if i were you as well as this story which is untitled at the moment. the last time i had an untitled story i had you guys vote on titles and chose the winning title at the end of the story. this time i'll be doing the same, of course.

as the story goes along and you guys can sense the themes of the story, you can suggest titles to be added to the poll which will be on my profile, or you can vote for one of the ones already there. at the end i'll announce the winner and rename the story.

with out further adeu, i present to you: Untitled. LOL

Prologue: Hallelujah

"I can't believe you were out without permission. And with a Cullen no less! What were you thinking? We've always told you to stay away from them. They are filthy disgusting traitors."

"But mother…"

"Do not 'Mother' me! I better not ever catch you with those filth again.

"Mother please, I… I'm in love with-"

"I can't believe you would actually say something that disgusting after what we've always told you."

Esme crossed her arms. "Maybe I don't believe you."

"How dare you?"

"Pastor Cullen is a minister, how disgusting can he be? In any case, he's not like them. Not how you describe them anyway."

"He is their son, for goodness sake! You know what? Get out of my sight. You are grounded. You're to stay in your room until your father comes."

"Mama, no! don't let him, please don't let him!"

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"Well?" Esme's mother demanded after a moment of silence.

"I'm pregnant," she mumbled incoherently, but it didn't matter. Her mother still heard.

Instead of more anger like Esme expected, her mother just shrugged. "Well that's simple to fix. I'll take you to the family planning place tomorrow."

Esme froze in terror.

"Don't look at me like that," Mother snapped, "you won't have that filth grow inside you any longer. Now go to your room and wait for your father."

Packing her final belongings into the small bag as quickly as possible, Esme sniffed as she stuffed in a picture of him with her at the beach; her favorite sketchbook and her Walkman with the tape that helped her sketch. The first page of the sketchbook contained a colored sketch of his face, his almost ivory hair gleaming in the sunlight and his sparkling green eyes unmatched by any colored pencil she could have used.

She wiped her face and shoved them in the bag, turning to the notebook on her desk. She scribbled out a note and left it on her desk. She had to run. She had to leave before her father came home and mother told him everything; the eating she would get was surely going to leave her sore for weeks, not to mention the damage it could do to the baby… she couldn't let them kill her baby . There was no other option. She had to run, and she had to do it now.

Opening her window, she silently thanked her higher powers that the neighbors had built a very high wall, and that there was a tree in their yard that reached over it. She tossed her bag over the wall and jumped, scrambling down the tree and landing on her butt. She jumped up and dusted herself off, then retrieved her belongings and made her way out of the neighbor's yard, crossing streets and climbing over walls and fences until she reached his tree. Climbing it, she got the now crinkled letter she wrote him out and left it in his window. Then, saying goodbye to the one she loved, she made her way to the train station.

"Open this door now! Esme Platt, if I have to open this door myself…"

Silence.

"I can't believe the nerve of your daughter."

Mr. Platt chuckled. "Leave it to me, dear." He opened the door and was met with… nothing?

"Where is she?"

"Gone," Mr. Platt replied, seeing the letter on the desk and the open window. Striding over to the desk, he read the note:

Goodbye.

I had to save my baby. You think they are so disgusting, but you would force your daughter to have an abortion… I can't think of how abominable that makes YOU. You won't see me again until my child is safe.

-Esme

"Go get the mail."

"Yessir." Carlisle Cullen shuffled outside, eyes on the floor under his parents' tense stare. Ever since he'd been caught with Esme, the 17 year old boy never felt safe in his own home. Only sad, lonely, angry, and afraid. He felt hated by his parents and could never please them. He didn't understand why the Platts were so awful like his parents said. Esme was the only person that had ever made him feel alive. He hadn't felt alive since that night, two months ago. In fact, he felt very dead right then, and he wished he were. He reached the mailbox and retrieved the mail automatically. This was the last thing he would do to make his parents hate him less, and then he would go to his father's cabinet and take those medications his father always told him not to touch, and he would end his life.

He shoved the mail roughly into his father's hands and shuffled up to his room. It had become his self-imposed prison and would soon be his…

What was in the window? He frowned as he opened the window and retrieved what seemed to be a letter. It was addressed to him and it was in her beautiful handwriting. Carlisle, it began.

I had to run away. If I had stayed my parents would have hurt me and made me do something horrible.
I don't have time to explain, just know that I'm safe. I love you and I know I will see you again. Someday.

Forever yours,
-Esme.

He folded the note and put it in his desk. He didn't go to his father's cabinet that night. She was forever his, and that gave him the strength to continue.