(First of all, for those of you who never wanted Bella to die, or don't want to read 'what-if's' that shouldn't have been and are going to criticize on that, please stop reading from here. As I have explained, this is just for the people that want to let out a few tears. I just had a feeling that I had to write from Bella's point of view since I already wrote Edwards'. I am only writing this for those who want more, but I promise that after this, there will be a more… positive and happy story about the characters in the novel. Promise.)
** In Mrs. Stephenie Meyer's Twilight, you only read Bella's POV while she was mostly conscious and in pain. Well, what would be going on in Bella's mind while she was unconscious, and she could hear and feel her heart gradually slowing, little by little? Please keep in mind while reading, if you haven't read my previous chapter, Sleep Now, Bella, that Edward stopped James from biting Bella. But will Edward get to Bella in time to hear what she really wants from him? Emotional people, you might want to gather your tissues. Please review, and I accept nice criticisms to improve my writing. I do not own anything from Stephenie Meyer, and the italicized sentences below are picked out from Twilight; they are not written by me.**
BPOV (Bella's POV)
Terror seized me so strongly that I was literally trapped by it.
I couldn't breathe; exertion and fear had gotten the best of me.
I wanted so badly to run, but I was frozen; I couldn't even flinch away.
There was pain coming, I could see it in his eyes.
I stared at him in horror.
My knees began to shake, and I was afraid I was going to fall.
I couldn't help myself—I tried to run; he was in front of me in a flash.
I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn't breathe yet.
Let it be quick now, was all I could hope.
With my last effort, my hand instinctively raised to protect my face; my eyes closed, and I drifted.
It seems like an out-of-body experience. I know my physical body is unconscious; still, I can think to myself. I can think about the last few painful minutes, the pitch-black eyes bordered by a hint of crimson red staring back at me with eagerness and cruelty, but most of all, thirst. In my mind, I flinch from the replay, and try to distract myself from it. I know I'm about to die, so I decide that I should leave with peaceful memories about things I loved about my life. My thoughts immediately drift to my carefree days with Edward. Thinking about his glorious face, his topaz eyes, his breathtaking crooked smile, makes me internally grin. I'm remembering the way his marble face felt cool and smooth under my fingertips; remembering the way he looked at me from under his long eyelashes with his liquid golden eyes; remembering how every time he flashed his shining white teeth through his beautiful uneven grin, it would make the rest of the world spin around us both, because we would be in our own little universe together.
As I am having my rerun of the past few weeks of my life, I realize I may have had a better life than anyone who has lived even up to a hundred years old—just because of those days that felt like they would never have ended. I'm satisfied with the way I would leave my life now—treasuring the memories I've had. Smiling again from within myself, I begin to reminisce each day I spent with Edward—the day he showed me his secret meadow, the day he played me my heart-melting lullaby on his grand piano, every night he spent in my room. I can't imagine how my life would have gotten any better than what it already was.
All of a sudden, my tranquil thoughts are interrupted, and my body—which was numb the whole time I was unconscious—sends new pain signals to my brain. I try to ignore them at first, and go back to the colorful memories. But soon after, even more pain hits my body, and this time, it's more intense, and I can't ignore it. I wonder if this is what it feels like when your heart finally stops. Like someone is holding a pillow against my face, trying to suffocate me, being run over by a train, and being stabbed again and again with a knife. Then I wonder about how long the torture would last. I don't know how much time has passed since my body lost consciousness. I count my heartbeats to try to keep my mind off the pain, and the counting is getting slower, with longer and longer breaks between every count. It's barely noticeable. Just barely.
After what seemed like hours, my body begins to regain consciousness. I can begin to smell, feel, and hear my surroundings. I smell the blood that makes my stomach churn, and I feel cool gentle hands brushing my matted hair off of my forehead and wiping my sweat and blood. Then I hear my angel's voice. The voice of whom I was thinking about while slowly drifting away.
"Oh no, Bella, no!" Edward cries in agony.
Don't worry, Edward, I want to tell him, I'm okay. I can't find my voice, or my lips. I'm lost in my own body. I'm too tired.
"Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please! Please, Bella, please!" He begs. I can't resist. I try one more time. I think I let out a tiny whimper, but I can't be sure.
Away from me, Edward calls out, "Carlisle!" Then, my head is cradled gently into cold hands, and the sharp, stabbing pain in my scalp increases.
I hear him again, with strained words, "Bella, Bella, no! Oh, please, no, no!" His smooth voice breaks at my name, and I hear him sob uncontrollably.
This was too much. Again, I try to make even a small sound from my mouth to let him know I'm here. I gather the little strength I have in me to find my lips. As soon as my mouth parts, I find air, and instead of letting out a quiet moan, I gasp and cough as air filled my lungs.
"Bella!" Edward's voice spills over with relief. His weeping quiets by a little.
"Edward…." I try to mumble out, but it sounds slurred.
"Yes, I'm here, Bella. I'm so… so sorry." The sobbing starts again, and I can't bear the sound of it. I could hear the heartbreaking pain in his gasps. I have never heard him so tormented with so much misery.
Then in between his gasps, he quietly breathes out, "No." His sobs are muffled, but behind his hand—which he was covering his mouth with, as far as I could tell—he bawls even harder than he had before, breaking my heart. His agony is my own, too.
"Bella… Can you hear me? I'm so sorry…." He apologizes again in between gasps.
Why is he keep saying sorry? This is all my fault. I'm the one who put all his family in danger. I'm the one they were risking their lives to protect. Just me, a plain, average human. I have to tell Edward this isn't his fault, and that he needs to forgive himself. I try my hardest to make my voice sound firm.
"Edward." My voice still comes out quietly, but clearer than before. "Edward, don't be. Don't be sorry." And I frown, as if it would make the toughness more pronounced. He's silent, except for the soft sobs. I have to see his face when I say this. He has to see my eyes to know that I'm more serious than ever. I ignore the heaviness of my lids as I open them slowly.
I squint, even though there's barely any light, except for the moonlight shining through the small arched windows. And I see Edward's godlike face again, which was managing to sparkle faintly without the sun. I see the golden brown eyes staring back at mine, but his filled with pain. This look gives me determination. I would replace his pain with the gentleness and light humor that he always had before. Then I remember Alice's words from one day in the hotel: It's been almost a century that Edward's been alone. Now he's found you. You can't see the changes that we see, we who have been with him for so long. Do you think any of us want to look into his eyes for the next hundred years if he loses you? As soon as I remember that, I try to forget it. I look Edward in his eyes.
"Edward, don't blame this on yourself," I told him. It doesn't seem like enough, so I try a different plan. "And, do me a favor, please." If there is one definite thing I know about Edward, it is how selfless he is, and how hard he always tries to please others.
"Anything," He softly whispers back, but his eyes are determined.
"Please," I beg in a weak voice, "Please, be happy, Edward. For your family." I look deep into his eyes, trying to comprehend his thoughts. His eyes remind me of a man being burned alive; I can't bear looking into them.
"For me," I add, then I close my eyes, trying to erase the comparison of Edward and the burning man. I hope for his reply.
"I will, Bella," He says in a gentle but frantic voice. And I feel his cool hands on both sides of my face. They don't feel as cold as usual—or maybe my own skin is just colder than normal right now.
My slowly-beating heart jumps a little, but I have to make sure he isn't just saying it. I open my eyes again, hoping to see that same determination in his eyes.
"Promise?" I beg, and I add a tiny smile.
"I… I promise," He assures me in a faltering voice. Some of the light in his eyes return. I smile slightly wider in response, and he smiles along with me. I feel like I am at peace now.
Suddenly I feel so much more tired. I feel like the air is weighing me down. I try my hardest to keep my eyes open and my lips smiling. Then I muster up the rest of my breath and my voice to say the most important words that are all that really matter.
"Remember, Edward… I love you… always," It comes out in no more than a breath. Then I added to myself, more than my own life.
He swallows, his jaw clenches, then unclenches, and then he lifts my hand up to his face, and presses it to his lips gently. "I have always loved you, I will always love you, and I will never forget you, my dear angel," he says passionately.
And even as he leaned his head down towards mine, I can't feel the hotness that I'm waiting for to flood my cheeks. Finally, his hard lips tenderly kiss mine, and in just that one second, all the memories I have gone over earlier, while I was laying here unconscious, rapidly flashes before my eyes. I feel my lips' corners lift upward just as he pulls away.
As I am sorry to see the wonderful days already gone by, my eye releases a teardrop, and I did not feel it trail down my cheek.