He laughed at my perplexed look. "I've forgotten how vivid and lively your dreams are," He stroked my hair and played with a couple of strands with his cool fingers. He acted so casually, as if my confusion was a regular occurrence.

"So I'm not dead? I'm not in heaven? You're not an…" I gulped. "An angel?" I whispered. The so-called angel laughed again.

"What were you dreaming about, love?" He asked, slowly stroking my hair. My eyebrows creased, and I stared at him. The innocent and concerned expression in his golden eyes made me lose my train of thought. All I could remember that this wasn't right. A stranger shouldn't be leaning over me and stroking my hair as if we were a couple. A stranger shouldn't be so good looking and alluring. A stranger shouldn't know me.

My body tensed, and he could feel the change in my mood. He backed off, standing up straight.

"Sorry," he said. "Did I hurt you?" I ignored his question and tried to collect my thoughts. Until that second I had never looked away from his face. I searched the room I was in, looking for any sign of familiarity. The room was painted a light powdery shade of blue and quite small. On my right side there was a small floral sofa, slumped with age and too experienced with much contact with bottoms. My gaze shifted to my left and I saw a wide glass window framed with some shades. People walked in different directions behind it. Some were in white robes, some in stretchers, and some in wheelchairs.

I was in a hospital room.

With every ounce of bravery in my body I looked back at the handsome stranger who was intently observing my face; like he was examining something important.

"You're not an angel," I stated.

He laughed, but it was more of a smug scoff.

"No, I'm definitely, not. Unfortunately. " He smiled the crooked grin he had before. "Bella, you know perfectly what I am," He said, suddenly serious.

"Do I?"

"The joke's getting quite old, love," He told me.

"Stop calling me that!" I exclaimed, the correct reactions finally coming to me.

Suddenly, I was frightened of the stranger standing next to me. He could be dangerous.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" I demanded. My voice sounded strong, confident, and maybe even intimidating. But inside, I was shaking like a leaf on a windy and blustery day. The stranger took a cautious step forward. I moved a cautious inch towards the edge of the bed. He raised his arms as if in surrender; then kneeled on one knee and carefully took my hands in his. They were too cold.

"Bella," His eyes now filled with worry, all playfulness and teasing gone, "It's me. Edward,"

I thought back. I had never known anyone named Edward in my whole entire life. Maybe he's a relative? I wondered…No; a superstar-looking guy like him? Not a chance. I snatched my hands away giving him an incredulous look. Who was this person?

"I," My voice elongated the word, as if I was teaching a kindergartener how to read, "Have no idea who you are," I said slowly, making sure he understood. The aura around him changed swiftly. From a handsome and angelic stranger, he became a shocked and scared little boy. Like a little boy who just lost his puppy.

"I don't know you," I said. Perhaps he would understand if I restated the sentence, I thought. Edward took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"What?" He whispered. I could barely hear his voice.

"I don't know you," I repeated. Bracing myself, I expected the worst as his eyelashes shivered, his eyelids fluttering open. His expression was smooth and composed, but his eyes pierced into mine with utter disbelief and sadness. "Um…Have we met before?" I prompted. All my fear of the stranger was replaced with worry and guilt when his face quickly twisted into an expression of agony and pain. He burrowed his face in his hands, hiding for awhile. I didn't know what to do. My body sat up and I found myself gently taking his hand away from his face. It was much harder than I thought but he didn't resist.

"I'm sorry," I apologized once I could see his face again. "Do I know you?" He bore his eyes into mine again in the same painful way but this time sorrow was added to the mixture.

"Bella, you don't… remember me?"

I bit my lip nervously.

"Should I?" My voice cracked. How had I caused him such grief so abruptly?

Edward stood up taking in another deep breath. He turned his back to me and started walking to the wall, tugging at his hair in exasperation. He placed his hands on the wall, leaning on it as if for support. His head fell down and I thought I could hear a small cry or moan. After some time he spun around, his move too swift. My palms began to sweat, my heart hammered, and I began to hyperventilate. What was he going to do to me?

"You. Don't. Remember. Me? " My heart nearly broke when I saw the tortured emotions on his face. My head shook slowly from side to side. Anxiety clouded my mind, making the action seem like that of a robot. Edward plopped himself into the sofa and put his face into his hands again. I stayed frozen on the bed watching him. Unease and fright saturated the air. I could hardly breathe. Sweat began to dew up on my forehead when he cupped his face with his hands; his elbows on his knees.