Stephenie Meyer owns all.
Follow Me into the Darkness
Bella:
I stood in the middle of the pavement, face turned towards the sky, basking in the morning light. I let the warmth trickle over my body as I inhaled. The air danced in a cloud – crisp and fresh. The yellow of the apartment behind me cast an odd glow upon the grey cement. I smiled up at the family of birds, singing loudly in the old maple.
And I thought to myself: 'it's quite brilliant to be alive.'
My bicycle was chained to the front steps, gleaming proudly in the sunlight. My bike was a beautiful, deep blue. I chose it because it reminded me of the sky; it reminded me of the endless summers, the cool nights and excruciatingly tiresome days. It reminded me of the fluffy, bouncy clouds that would fly across the wide expanse of marine. My bike, it reminded me of freedom.
I smiled to myself as I swung my leg onto the pedal, warming my legs up. 'Today's going to be a good one,' I thought to myself. Perhaps I should have touched wood before I left; maybe I should have done a quick prayer or caught the bus. But I didn't, and it's certainly too late now.
Because now, now I'm stuck in this endless blackness. This endless monotony of pain and hurt and grief.
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply in again. Laughing once, letting the chords shimmer through the air, I began my journey, the road smooth beneath my tires, the greenery flashing past as I picked up speed. The breeze tangled itself through my hair, throwing the locks out behind me. I was flying.
I tore through the narrow backstreets, my heart thumping powerfully against my rib-cage, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The sun disappeared quietly as I slipped behind the old, dirty buildings, the red-brown bricks chipped, covered in grime, the windows taped up crudely. I came crashing back to earth as the blue expanse disappeared from view, my world cast in shadow.
.
Do you know what it feels like to lose everything? To lose everything you've ever lived for? Do you know what it feels like to wake up, to wake up and realise that everything you had was gone? Do you know what it feels like to have everybody, absolutely everybody walk out on you?
I do.
My name is Isabella Marie Swan, I'm nineteen years old and during June 2009 I was in a terrible accident.
My name is Bella Swan, and this is my story.
Edward:
The digital clock, with its eerie green numbers set deeply into the dashboard, was exactly four minutes and thirty-six seconds late. How did I know this? Because my phone, with its precise black numerals typed cleanly onto the screen, said it was exactly 07:43:06. And my phone, you see, was always right. Simply because.
I glanced at the offending numbers; the fact that I was going to be late again wouldn't reflect well on my future resumes and chances of promotion. Fucking milk.
I sat at the red light, my fingers drumming steadily to the silent beat. My heart thumped in time to my thoughts, loud and angry. I'm not usually an irrational man and skipping red-lights is not usually my thing, but for the record I admit that yes, I did run that light. And you have my full consent to throw my rotting corpse in jail.
I turned left, my breathing unusually fast. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I sped down the backstreets, closing my eyes briefly and smiling. I wound down my window a quarter of the way, letting the cool, fresh morning air circulate around the stuffy car. I took in a large gulp of oxygen, letting it swirl around my lungs as I reopened my eyes.
A thin voice carried on the breeze, humming a soft tune. Too high for a male, it was care-free and childish. I had a sudden, overwhelming mental image of a girl carrying a bunch of daffodils in her arms, smiling brightly up at the sun, eyes full of life.
I tapped my left foot absentmindedly to the tune of the singer before closing my eyes again, pushing my foot down harder on the accelerator. I breathed in the fresh air, but the magic was gone, tainted. My eyes automatically opened in frustration, the humming suddenly louder, stronger than the breeze that pooled through my open window.
I was just in time to slam on the brakes.
She was right there, whistling along as she pushed merrily on with her bike. 'Fuck' I thought, swerving away from her. 'Fuck,' I thought again as I managed to clip her back wheel. 'Shit,' I whispered, eyes wide in horror, heart stopped, breathing thunderous as I slammed into one of the brick walls that stood alert on either side of the narrow lane.
I saw the girl fly off her bike, body spinning rapidly through the air. Her brown hair flew out behind her, limbs splayed like a dolls. I watched with wide, mortified eyes as she smashed forcefully back into the pavement.
All this happened in a matter of seconds whilst I waited patiently for my air-bag to inflate.
It didn't. My head slammed into the steering wheel.
And the world went black.
Isabella Swan? I'm sorry.
