"The fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning 'round."

'The Fool On The Hill,' The Beatles

There were flashes of light zooming before his eyes, often moving too fast for him to make sense of what the images were. If he concentrated hard enough he could make out colors - vibrant colors of green and gray; of red and chestnut. By the time his mind could register what those colors could possibly represent, they would be ripped away from him and he would be on the run trying to chase after those fleeting images that were embedded into his memories.

And so the chase began.

Sometimes it was as if he were trapped inside a maze full of doors and hallways that always lead him to dead ends. He could see the colors whiz past him as if he were standing still but he in actuality was in a full sprint trying to catch up to them. He could almost hear them mocking him, laughing at how desperate he must look. He would start the race determined to capture them - to finally figure out what those extraordinary shades were.

There were times when he thought he could catch up to the colors. One time, in particular, he had stretched his arm out as far as he possibly could, twisting and bending all of the muscles in his body in the process, only to have that beautiful shade of brown, the chestnut, wisp right through his fingers and dissipate into the air around him. He could hear himself cry out at the sudden loss of the color that was the most beautiful out of all of them. He would drop to his knees in a sign of defeat, his fingers would pull at the ends of his haphazard hair, his chest would heave from the violent words that were soaring out of his mouth, and as always, his heart would shatter.

The chase would be over, and he would be left in the darkness. Instead of being surrounded by the greens and grays and the reds and the beautiful chestnut, he only found himself enveloped by blackness. He had lived in the dark for years and could admit that the darkness, and the darkness alone, was the one and only thing in this cold world that he could rely on. It was the only constant in his life. It hovered over him like a storm cloud and destroyed whatever lies in its path.

It was usually at this point in his state of unconsciousness that he would wake up from his recurring dream. He would shoot straight up in his bed, panting in fear and frustration. He would wonder if it all would ever end.

It was no different that particular morning as he watched the sun make its entrance into the day. He had watched the sunrise on numerous occasions since the dreams began and it was the one thing he cherished and loathed simultaneously. To him, it meant that he had survived another day. He had a whole day to try and make up for all of his wrongdoings. On the other hand, it also meant that he would have to live another day in this miserable little town. Another day of waiting.

He rolled over onto his back once he was satisfied with his daily intake of the sunrise, and exhaled loudly into the empty room. His mother had told him that having a pet would ease some of his loneliness, but Edward Cullen looked at having a pet as another living being that he could let down. If that were possible.

He could smell the aroma of coffee filtering through the house and his body took that as a sign to roll out of bed. His life was like clockwork; he would wake up, take a quick trip to the bathroom to shower and shave, get dressed for work, grab his coffee and head out the door. He would work all day, come home with whatever sort of dinner he could muster up from the local establishments, and head out on his boat to clear his head from any unwanted thoughts that slipped through the steel gate barriers of his mind. Afterwards he would head upstairs, brush his teeth, and call it a night. Repeat cycle as needed. Edward Cullen didn't live a spectacular life. He simply existed.

The only difference with that morning, Edward realized, was that going to work was no longer necessary, at least for the time being. Being a teacher at the local high school had its perks and it started with having the opportunity to have the summers off. Most people would give an arm and a leg to have eight weeks of time lobbied only to themselves, but Edward dreaded it. He needed something to fill in the hours between waking and sleeping. He needed distractions. He was the only teacher he knew out of all the teachers in the entire world that enjoyed teaching summer school. The week between school letting out and summer school beginning was pure torture.

He swung by the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and headed outside to his deck to take in the fresh air. He sunk deeply into a cushioned seat and rubbed his eyes to shake off the restless night he had suffered through. He was grateful he didn't have to go to school today; he could only imagine what his students would say about his current state of appearance. Dark circles swirled beneath his eyes and he didn't even need to look in a mirror to know that his eyes were pooled with tiny red lines that burned incessantly. Wonderful way to start the day, he mused. At least he didn't have to go into the studio until later.

Ah, his studio. His saving grace. The one place where he could go and take out the daily turmoil that lived deep inside him. He had put a great deal of thought into perfecting his little escape. Besides the fact that it was rented above the local convenience store, it really turned out to be a wonderful space for him and his students. Teaching music classes at the high school was how the word spread of just how talented Edward was with his instruments. His studio had started out as his own form of escape but it had transformed into a studio space for any kid who ever wanted to learn how to play music. Playing music was the only happiness he knew of. He would do anything to keep the happy.

Edward could usually tell within the first hour of him waking up what kind of day it was going to turn out to be. He realized he could get in a quick ride on the boat before the rain starts if he hurried. Besides music, being on the water was the only other thing that kept his demons at bay. Somewhat.

A half hour later he closed his eyes and tried to let the sound of the water and the rush of the wind take him back to happier times in his life. He knew that it would be a difficult task; his dream with the colors was always the hardest to break free from. His temperament was always closer to the dark than to the sun and the mood he currently found himself in was darker than tornado clouds. Snap out of it, he admonished himself. 12:00 will be here before you know it.

Little Garrett looked forward to his weekly piano lessons with Edward more than pizza and movie night. Edward loved to listen for his footsteps barreling through his studio, usually knocking over various instruments in the process. His mother's scolding voice always followed as she tried to fix whatever mess Garret created in his war path but understood that Garrett's excitement when it came to the piano, and to Edward, was something that she just could not stay mad at for long. Edward couldn't either and vowed to shake off his foul mood by the time Garrett's lesson rolled around at noon.

He always thought of his old life when he was on the water. He remembered walking the halls of Forks High School and feeling as if the walls were trapping him. He was meant for bigger things. He knew it. They both knew it. He remembered driving across the county to begin their college career and all of the fun and strange places they stopped along the way. He could hear their favorite songs on the radio; he could hear the drum of the tires as they left their old lives behind them. He could taste their new found freedom. It tasted new and fresh and he welcomed it like a sunny day. He remembered cramming for his first round of midterms; he remembered the celebration for all midterms completed that hurt like a bitch for the following week. He remembered the first day of his senior internship and how bittersweet it was when it was his last. He remembered walking across the stage to accept his degree and the proud members of the audience that cheered him on through tears of happiness. All of these things he could remember when he thought of them.

It was the hand that held his own throughout it all that he could never forget. It was the ghost that haunted him during the day and during the night.

Edward stopped to stare at the sky and knew he didn't have too much longer before the rain came. As he tied his boat to the dock, he glanced up at his house and saw a figure walking towards him. He could tell by the build and gate of the man walking that it was none other than Emmett, his brother who meant well but never understood Edward's incapacity to move on like the rest of them. He would tell Edward to "man up" or ''move on, bro", leaving Edward no choice but to storm off in a fit of anger. Emmett stopped at the edge of the dock and held out his hand for Edward to grab it and hoist himself out of the boat.

"Morning," he said to Edward and nodded upwards towards the darkening sky. "Managed to get a ride in before the rain?"

"Had to," Edward said. "Needed a fresh start today." The two men started the walk back to Edward's backyard. Emmett nodded, understanding the meaning behind the words.

"Bad dream?" Emmett was answered by a silent nod. "Which one this time?"

"The colors."

"Ouch. Sorry, man." The two of them reached the deck and grabbed two seats at the patio table. Edward wondered if Emmett knew that he knew why Emmett paid him these unplanned or spontaneous visits. I don't need to be checked up on, he thought bitterly. He knew that Emmett hated intruding on him unannounced, and it was no doubt their mother Esme's doing, but both brothers hated it nonetheless. A telephone call would have sufficed.

"You're out of school, yeah?" Emmett asked. He folded his arms under his head and leaned back in the seat. Edward nodded.

"Submitted all finals two days ago. Got cleared from the Principal yesterday. I'm a free man," he said, trying his best to plant a smile on his face. He hoped it wasn't one of those terrifying smiles where everyone around knows it's a fake one.

"Good for you man. Those kids can suck the life out of ya." Edward laughed at how true Emmett's statement was.

"Mom's having her annual start of summer barbeque on Saturday. I'll be seeing you there?" Emmett asked. Edward ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance.

"You know, I never understand why Mom has these barbeques to begin with," said Edward stiffly. "She buys all these outdoor chairs and Tiki Torches and Luau Pigs and it rains before anyone even gets there. Not to mention that Dad is the one that has to set it all up because Mom's too busy burning her appetizer quiche -"

"Yeah, yeah, it's always a disaster, blah, blah. I think the real reason she has it is because you're the one she sends out in the middle of the rain to go save all those Tiki Torches and pigs."

"You're right, Em. I love getting stuck outside in monsoon weather. To be honest, it's better than fucking Christmas." This time Edward's small upturned smile was genuine and Emmett mentally wrote down a point in his favor. His mom would be pleased to know that Emmett

was able to squeeze one little favorable show of emotion from his younger brother.

The brothers spoke for a little while longer before Emmett rose to leave. Edward walked him around the house to the long driveway and they gave each other one of those brotherly half hugs that seemed to be in the handbook of How To Be A Boy. It's the only way that Esme could explain why almost every boy she knew entered into one of those exchanges.

"I'm serious about Saturday though," Emmett said as he stood next to his car. "It's a great way to kick off your summer."

"I'll think about it," Edward said. Emmett rolled his eyes.

"Don't even deny that you're dying to have one of Mom's burned quiches. Admit it!" The older brother laughed while the younger one shook his head with a smile. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders in eventual agreement. Right before Emmett got into his car and shut the door, Edward called out to him.

"Did Mom invite the whole west coast again?" He asked in feigned annoyance. It was well known that Esme invited anyone who was willing to attend a barbeque in the summer rain. Even though the Cullen's had moved from their hometown of Forks, Washington a few years ago, some of their old neighbors still make the trek to Seattle without complaining. Maybe it was the quiches, after all.

"You know her. 'Don't be tardy, it's time to party!' She even invited good ol' Mr. Mitchell."

"Our old mailman?' Edward laughed before growing quiet. "Anything from Chief Swan?" He saw Emmett's shoulders drop a little but chose hard to ignore it. Emmett shook his head, feeling sorry for him. Esme had sent an invitation to Charlie Swan every summer but like tradition, it would go unanswered.

And just like that, Edward lost his momentary solace. He lost the happy.

He nodded towards Emmett's general direction and slipped back inside his house. Edward watched him retreat down his long and slanted driveway and stayed in front of the window until he saw the last of Emmett's car disappear down the soft hill that Edward's house was perched on. He would find himself in similar situations almost daily. Something would distract him, momentarily, and in that moment he would feel almost human again. He would be able to smile without thinking about it before hand and sometimes he could catch a glimpse of that silver lining. No matter how long those situations lasted, he would always be thrown back into the present. And for the past few years, the present was his own personal hell on earth. He wondered how long it would take before he could accept it.

She was never coming home. He would never catch the color of the beautiful chestnut.