(A/N – I do not own the characters in orTwilightin any way, all rights are reserved to Stephanie Meyers.)

Can't I Just Fly Away?

Esme's P.O.V.

"Charles Evenson's family is coming around tonight, please, Esme, try and remember your manners," my mother said as I followed her like a chick behind a mother duck into the kitchen. "It's for your own good."

I leaned against the counter opposite her, my eyes narrowing at the busy figure. "Mother, I know what you're trying to do, please, I don't want this," I tried to reason.

"Esme," my mother sighed, "we've been through this. You need to marry sometime or later, you're nearly twenty-two! You're going to become too old! And what will you do when no-one finds you eligible enough to marry?"

"I don't want to marry," I retorted, looking out the window towards the setting sun. "I want to become-

"A teacher," my father finished, purposely.

I let myself spin around to meet him stood in the doorway, his workbag slung over his body. I could see the arguments he already had made up in his eyes.

"I have the knowledge and the qualifications. You remember Miss. Annabelle?" My father nodded and so I continued. "Well, it was her who planted the idea. She told me in confidence I would be a great teacher, like she was to me."

My father walked towards me, not like he used to when I was a child, but now more demandingly. His slight limp troubled him somewhat, but did not stop the task at hand. Placing both hands firmly on my shoulders, he stared me in the eye. "Going west would be dangerous for you, Esme. You would be much safer here, at home, with a loving family and husband. Please, listen to your parents."

I could feel the steady frustration slowly dominating my body. Huffing, I walked over to the sink, baring my teeth. "But of course," I replied in a low sarcastic tone. "Why would you listen to me?" Wiping my hands on the spare tea-towel, I left the room fuming and stomping up the stairs. I have to admit, though, the stairs were a little babyish for me. Trying to keep my breathing even, I slammed the door to my bedroom, not caring how old I was.

No-one understood!

No-one, I'm sure, but Dr. Cullen.

A strange pain made my chest ache. I walked over to my single bed, curling my knees up under my chin. Closing my eyes, I allowed the last moments between me and the kind doctor flash before me. A smile curved my lips and I felt at peace until I got to the moment he said he'd see me again, which of course, he never did.

"Ah, hello, doctor," my father greeted kindly.

I looked back over my shoulder hopefully, expecting Dr. Cullen. However, it wasn't him. The doctor stood awkwardly at my door was our family doctor. Disappointment flooded through me and I looked quickly away, making sure the older doctor didn't see it in my eyes. I knew, though, that he wouldn't have noticed. Because this doctor wasn't Dr. Cullen, this doctor was...normal.

"Esme, say hello," my father chided, gently.

"Hello, doctor." Smiling, he set his medical bag in the same place Dr. Cullen did the day before.

Taking my leg in his warm hands, I winced. He wasn't as gentle as Dr. Cullen was yesterday.

I breathed in, calculating my levels of courage, before blurting the question out. "Do you know where Dr. Cullen is? I thought he was going to treat me today."

My father shot me a disapproving look, but said nothing. I pursed my lips in frustration and slight pain as the doctor answered. "I'm sorry, Miss, I thought you already knew. Dr. Cullen had to leave yesterday night due to a family emergency."

"Oh," I breathed, my fingers curling on the arm rest as he continued to move me around.

I heard my bedroom door creak open lightly from the side of me. Not bothering to look, I knew who it was by the uneven footsteps.

"Father, please. No more."

I felt pressure by my leg as my mattress dipped deeply with my father's weight. He placed a hand on top if my own laying limply on the mattress. Sighing, I listened to what he had to say.

"Esme, my darling daughter, how unfortunate you inherited my strong headed temper. I understand what you're going through. Believe me; I only want the best for you."

I screwed my eyes tighter together because I didn't want to feel the guilt he weighed upon my shoulders. Gripping his hand in mine, I felt his other hand stroking and playing with my messy curls. It was a comforting notion, something he did when I was a child that rarely happened any more. I wasn't ready to tie myself eternally to someone I had no feelings for. I was still a child at heart, with huge ambitions and dreams. But no-one supported me, and so now, what was the point?

"When is he getting here?" I asked, albeit muffled because of the cushions.

My father, I knew, would be smiling now. "Around seven-thirty, Esme."

Pushing myself up, I examined my Father's lined face. Laughter lines crinkled around his eyes as he smiled softly at me. "And I can't be dismissed?"

"No, Esme, and you know that."

I nodded, standing, before walking towards my wardrobe and pulling two coloured dresses out.

"You'd better help me decide then," I laughed, holding a dark green dress to my body before switching it and holding the blue dress to me.

Fake frowning like I was faking happiness, my father rubbed his chin. "Decisions, decisions."I scowled at him and he smiled again, his chest shaking slightly. "The green one, it brings out your eyes."

Touched, I felt my throat constrict at my father's words.

"You are far too kind."

I felt his hands on my shoulders as he spun me around by surprise. Taking my face in his hands, he kissed my head gently. "I'm not kind, Esme. I'm telling the truth."

I shook my head at his antics, pushing him from the room hurriedly. "You can see me when I'm finished!" I called to him as he limped down the stairs.

Closing the door more gently this time, I had a genuine smile curve my lips. I knew they were doing this in their best interests, I just didn't know if it would truly ever help me.

~XOX~

Securing my second earring, I made sure I looked presentable. My hair was half up and half down, wispy curls here and there.

"Come on Esme," I reprimanded, curtly, "don't doubt yourself now."

The clock on my vanity hit exactly seven-thirty, and as if responding to my own thoughts, a sharp knock resounded throughout our outer Columbus home. My reflection grimaced as I heard the front door creak open and my Mother greet the Evensons in a happy, cheerful voice she kept for occasions like these.

"Just grin and bear it," I reminded in distaste.

Sneaking one last look at my appearance, I placed my silver pendant necklace around my neck and left my room, which was scattered with various items of clothing. I could hear them all talking in hushed, soft tones as I descended the stairs. I tried to be as quiet as I could, biding the time my family and the Evensons would realise I'd made an appearance. However, as the thought occurred, my foot seemed to deliberately place itself on the creakiest stair in the most awkward place. I mentally cursed as the hushed whispers diminished into silence.

Here we go, I thought.

Trying to find confidence, I walked as slowly as I could – without looking as stupid as possible – to the living room that held both mine and Charles' family. I walked across the thresh hold, and there he was; Charles Evenson. His dark brown-black hair was neatly brushed back into a quickly becoming popular style. His grey dark, black eyes reflected the living room light that hung above us, and finally, his teeth glowed white with the light as well.

However, his crystal clean appearance didn't seem to show the real him. Just by looking at him, I could read between the lines. The way he stared at me, like I was horse rather than a person, made me feel anxious, rather embarrassed. Who did he think he was?

"Esme, there you are!" Mother half joked – half seethed as Charles got up and pulled a chair out from under the table, granted I took the seat and thanked his gestures.

"Sorry Mother, Charles."

Still smiling, albeit creepily, he replied, "I'm guessing it takes a woman as beautiful as yourself, as long time to prep."

I could feel my cheeks blushing a horrible shade of red as I allowed this man to flatter me.

"Hear, hear," my father laughed, clinking his glassed with Mr. And Mrs. Evenson.

I could feel I was on the edge, my nerves purposely shining through and making me nervous. My Mother quickly placed the first course on our table. It was fish, followed closely by a main meal – a Roast. Throughout the meal, Charles made various conversation, asking me what I thought of certain things – frowning when I may have told him the strong views I have on women in society. Of course, from then on, I was wary of him.

Towards the pudding, I was growing tired of his ramblings about stock markets and banks. I had no interest in his world and by the looks of things he had none in mine. I knew my concentration was wavering and my imagination slowly took hold.

Instead of Charles sat beside me, it was Carlisle. I realise it's completely absurd, but when you miss someone, it shows through potently. I nodded and murmured in agreement robotically, programmed automatically to do it now. I knew when I should say "yes," and when I should say "no," so my boredom did not catch Charles' attention.

After what seemed like forever, my father took Mr. Evenson into the drawing room for a glass of whisky and a cigar. My Mother and Mrs. Evenson stayed at the table where the quietly spoke to one another. Taken away by the design of Mrs. Evenson's dress, I traced the patterns with me eyes, stopping suddenly when I came across a dark bluish purple inlaid in her skin. I diverted my attention to my hands as I tried to forget what I saw.

She couldn't have just fallen or done anything to get that bruise, it was shaped, disgustingly, into what I could see as the shape of fingers. I gulped, trying to displace my distress.

"Miss. Platt, are you okay?"

Charles placed a hand on top of mine as I snapped back into reality. "Oh I'm fine," I lied, "Just a little hot. Would you like to take a walk with me?"

A smile softened his face and I linked my fingers with his, helping – but really pulling him up. The balcony outside the spare room was a welcome sight for me. The air was warm, but not too humid, allowing us a peaceful evening.

"I hear you want to be a teacher out west," he commented suddenly, catching me off guard.

"Yes," I spluttered, looking at my feet before back at him and continuing. "Well," I sighed, "that was until now, it's too dangerous."

Charles nodded in agreement, which I was slightly perplexed about. I thought his interest was encouraging; obviously I was, again, wrong.

Sitting down, we let silence ensue, only breaking when he had to leave, which understandably was a relief.

I did not like him whatsoever, so much, in fact, that I could never tell my parents. This would be one long painful thing I would have to battle against.

A/N – Sorry I've been lacking on the Twilight things lately. Exams have taken up my spare time, so again, I'm really sorry! Anyways, here you go!

Please Review if you enjoyed this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks, Katie1995. :)