A Crystal Tear
Chapter 1: Amnesia (if that isn't obvious, i don't know what is...)
Disclaimer: I am superbly sorry to say that I, *insert dramatic breath intake here* am NOT Stephanie Meyer! Bet you didn't see THAT one coming!!
Prologue
Have you ever wished for someone to come along and sweep you off your feet? Someone so perfect, someone so indescribably beautiful, mysterious, but is somehow smitten with, none other than yourself? I never expected it. But it happened. Somehow through all the miscommunications, confusion, they say they love you. How did this happen? I honestly have no idea. All I know is that I feel the exactly same way. I know I couldn't go a day without being with them. And I know if I had to go through all the pain again, just to be with them, just to love them again, I'd do in an instant. You would go through it all, just for them to say those same words again.
I woke up. Ow. Bright, white lights. I blinked a couple times, to adjust my eyes. I surveyed my surroundings. I was in an unfamiliar room. To my left, there was a young lady sitting there, probably 16 or 17. How did I get here? I tried to remember, but I couldn't. Well, I'd figure that out later. I wondered back to the girl, and who she was.
Studying her more closely now, I was a little surprised. At first glance, she seemed an ordinary girl, just a plain jane; dark brown hair, which was a little mussed up, pale skin. But now, to the right of the middle, I could see her luscious lips were marred, cracked, and scaring as if she bit them too much. Above her lips was a small petite nose, slightly upturned, pale like the rest of her. Her long, espresso eyelashes, rested on slightly purple shadows, but it probably just the lighting. I wondered what color her eyes were. Were they as subtely beautiful as the rest of her?
She looked so peaceful, --wait, not peaceful, there was a crease in her brow, even as she slept. What could bring her such unrestfulness? I sighed wondering. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound. Was she an angel? I couldn't, and definitely not in this state, understand how a mere someone might be able to have such... 'eyes' seemed like an insult. So ordinary, so common, so lackluster, was never which I would ever discredit those two deep, chocolate, brown pools to.
"Oh, Edward!" she cried and she flung herself onto me.
"Um..hi?" I said, unsure. I didn't understand her reaction. Were we.. friends? I don't believe I could have forgotten eyes, as cliched as it may be, as hers. She pulled back in confusion. I missed the angel's touch already.
"Edward, don't you know who I am?" she asked tentatively.
Why did she keep on calling me Edward? Was that my name? And why did that voice seem so familiar? Like I had known it my whole life? I searched within the depths of my memory, surprised to find nothing, no answers to any of my questions.
I knew then that something was wrong.
"Um, no, I'm sorry. Should I?" I answered, just as tentatively. I watched her, captivated.
Her eyes widened as she bit her lip, and her eyebrows creased. She slowly brought her hand to her to her mouth. Her eyes watered, and she began to shake slightly, as she looked at me, with an almost…horrified expression. I didn't understand what was wrong. And then I saw it.
A tear.
A beautiful crystal tear that rolled down her cheek, dropped from her chin, and landed on the bed. How I could I have made the angel cry?! Another tear rolled down her cheek, and I couldn't bear see it. I reached out and wiped it away with my thumb.
"What did I do?" I asked, not comprehending. She opened her beautiful mouth to say something, then closed it again, as if words had failed her, and simply shook her head. I hated seeing that I was the cause of her pain. The angel in front of me should never have to experience the pain it seemed she was going through right now.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, feeling broken. A man in a white suit, with a clipboard in hand, walked in right then, and saw me.
"Good, you're awake." He said. "Miss Swan, could I have a word alone with Edward?"
Swan. That was the angel's last name. It was elegant, just like her. I wondered what her first name was. Miss Swan nodded her head, and with one last sorrowful look at me, left the room.
With Miss Swan gone to capture my attention, I started looking around the room more closely. There was a curtain to my right, made of a filmsy shower-curtain type material. I looked up, and there, attached to the ceiling, was a rack the the curtain was connected to, that would surround the bed I was laying in, if drawn. Was I hospital? How could I be in hospital; there was nothing wrong with me! --Wait, there ..was something wrong with me, it was the cause of the Miss Swan's tears. I looked up at the man.
"Who are you? And.. what am I doing here? Why did that beautiful girl leave here crying?" His eyes widened for a second, but a look of…understanding crossed his them.
"I am Dr. Panacione. You are here because it seems that when you had a track meet," Hmm, that was interesting, I guess I liked to run, "you had a stroke as you walked up the bleachers to see your family, and when you fell, you hit you head. I'll will have to leave that last question though, unanswered, until I know more about your situation," he answered with.
"What do you mean 'my situation?'" I asked bewildered.
"When you fell, your brain was slightly damaged also," –What?! I had brain damage? Didn't these types of things only happen in movies?--"I am simply trying to find out what type of damage that is, and then I will answer all of your questions. Do you understand?" he said calmly.
"Yes…" I said warily. It seemed like a fair deal, but I wasn't completely convinced.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Edward." He looked surprised, but wrote something down his clipboard, "But," I interjected, "when I spoke to the lady, she kept on calling me that, so I assumed." He nodded head.
"Thank you for clearing that up. What year is it?" I looked around, trying to find a clue, but I couldn't remember anything.
"I don't know." I said meekly. He wrote something down again. I may not know much about myself, but I knew I hated not knowing.
"What are your mother and father's names?" I closed my eyes, willing the information that was evading me, to come forth.
"I don't know," I replied again, feeling defeated. He wrote another thing. My word, was all that scribbling really necessary?!
"Edward," he said as he took out a toothbrush, "This may seem awkward, but could you please brush your teeth? I need you to, to further diagnosis you." He came over and unhooked the various cords on me. I hadn't even noticed them. I took the toothbrush, and he watched me as I walked toward the sink in the room. I felt a little wobbly at first, but now it felt nice, stretching my legs out.
I looked at the toothbrush. How was I supposed to do this again? I looked at the doctor, and he said, "Most times, people put toothpaste on it, before brushing their teeth."
I spotted the toothpaste tube. It came out a little quickly, so I brushed off the excess, and rinsed my finger under cool water. It was a weird tingly sensation.
Well. My teeth are in my mouth, so I suppose that's where I put it. I bared my teeth, and set the toothbrush against them. I brushed once hesitantly, meaning to stop, but suddenly my hand knew what it was doing and started going off on it own. That felt nice. It felt as if it were getting off all the grime from, who knows how long I've been out. It went toward the back of the teeth brushing vigorously. Then, after going around my teeth once more, I spit out the foam in my mouth, turned on the tap, grabbed the cup that was near my hand, filled it with water, rinsed my mouth with then spit it back out, all almost automatically.
It was like my hand and my mind were two separate beings. But that felt good. I was going to make a point to brush my teeth whenever I could. I looked back at the doctor, and he nodded his head.
"I've narrowed down what specific brain damage--" That's always nice to know, I thought to myself, "-you have and you should sit down for this." He said. I looked at him suspiciously, but made my way back over to the bed.
"I'm afraid to say," he started out with, and I braced myself, for this could not be good if he started out with that apologetic voice tone and those words, "you have amnesia."
A/N: so there we are. the first chapter in the life of edward with amnesia. tell me what you think! REVIEW!! ...you know you want to.. so don't hold back!