Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Woah! Seriously you knocked me over with the reviews for the last chapter. I knew it would be a turning point in the story, but really, wow! I didn't realise just how much it changed the story for you all. I hope you'll continue to read until the end because I couldn't end Sarelle's story like that - I'm mean but I'm really not that harsh that I would leave her completely heartbroken for the rest of her miserable life... maybe.
I've a few more tricks up my sleeve :P
ALSO go to my profile and vote on the poll! :D
My eyes settled on the rose bush. Its leaves were curled in on themselves or withered on the ground. The buds no longer bloomed with pretty pink flowers, but instead sat dormant making the bush look dead and wasted.
How odd that it could resemble the feeling within me now, the emptiness and grief that was left over from the shock of my latest discovery.
I felt my jaw clench tight as the tears burned my eyes again. All I wanted was a dream and a chance that it could come true. Why was it that fate felt the need to build up my hopes then crush them within the same day? It let me heal and recuperate just to smash me to the floor again while it laughed in my face.
Bitterness seethed in my veins and I reached to tear a handful of brittle rose leaves from the bush, just to crush them in my hand, just to feel the thorns bite into my skin, just to feel something.
A cry of anguish, anger, and loss escaped through my gritted teeth while a brutal cold wind whipped at my face. All the love and selfless idiocy that I had felt when Edward held me in his arms was wiped away, and all I was left with was the hatred of the life I had been dealt. My body reeked of the absolute grief that I had lost everything, a whole life and dream, to another girl. Another girl that I couldn't even hate! It was like some kind of twisted form of torture. I had all these emotions pent up in my soul forming a cacophony of feeling and yet I couldn't truly release them because the affection I felt for Bella was keeping them locked up.
I wanted nothing more than to curse and cry and spit her name in jealousy because she had what I wanted, but I couldn't because my mind rebuked me every time – flashing her sweet young face. Memories of her happy innocent laughter and chocolate bouncing curls filled my mind, past moments when she had sat on my knee and been fascinated by Aslo's book.
She was just a girl who met a man and wanted him forever. I knew that. Still I wanted so badly to hate her, just for an outlet for the anger because I couldn't hate Edward. No matter how much I reran the situation in my head. There was certainly part of me that seethed at the fact her had moved on and found another. I knew it had been over half a century but the bitter blameful side of me wanted to accuse him of being heartless and fickle. I wanted to curse him for abandoning hope and falling for another girl. However, my heart's feelings were overwhelmed but my mind's logic. He had just kept his promise. In a way it proved he still loved me. The fact that he followed my request and fell in love – just like I made him promise to.
What a fatal mistake that promise had been, and what a fool I had been for thinking it a noble, good idea. I wanted Edward happy, but I knew now I didn't want him to love another, hold another, kiss another. I wanted to be the only one.
But what's done is done and I must deal with the consequences of my choices.
My hand tightened around the thorny crushed leaves in my palm. My knuckles were white with the tension of my skin over my bones. My body was just stiff with the rage rolling through me.
Why did I ever fall in love when this is the pain it brings?
Everyone always talks of the bliss, the ecstasy, the loving contentment and completeness. No one ever tells you about the bittersweet balance it all hangs on. There is never any hint given about the existence of the horrible dark side of the so called wonderful emotion. No one warns you of the heartbreak, the jealousy, and the way it changes your character into something almost unrecognisable. No one tells you about how weak it can make you become no matter how strong you felt when you were in it. And worse still was that no matter how much pain it causes you, you cannot live without it or at least the hope of it. It is the worst addiction that can take hold of you because it isn't just a physical craving or a psychological need. It's a yearning that rocks everything you are, right to the very pit of your soul.
My legs gave way and I fell to my knees as I felt the strength of that yearning take hold of me. This was no mere heartbreak like last time. This wasn't any kind of agony that came with a cure, unlike last time when I still had the hope of a future with Edward. This was an endless realisation that every hope, dream, and fanciful thought had just been extinguished.
Strangely the tears that burned my eyes didn't fall; all that came was stone cold hatred and emptiness. My fists pounded the earth, my hands ripped at the grass around me, and my arms thrashed at the thorny rose bush.
Love be damned, my heart be damned, for I have no use for either now.
My cuts were healing slowly. They no longer caused people to stare, not like they used to when I first gained them a week ago.
When I finally left my jump place behind the rose bush, and wandered from Chicago Park to the centre of town, people had stared at the blood dripping down my forearms and the criss-crossed scratches. I wasn't even dressed to match their time, I was the odd one out and how fitting that was. I hadn't acknowledged their stares as I walked with purpose to the nearest hotel. My head held high and my eyes set in a steely stare.
As soon as I had entered the hotel I fixed a false cautious smile on my face and an apologetic tone in my voice. The receptionist had helped me instantly and gullibly believed me when I claimed I had fallen whilst walking in the park. No matter that there were no dirt marks on my pretty little dress, or any tangible signs of a fall.
I had paid for a room in the hotel using the emergency money I had taken from my bank account before I left Belmore. It was a modest amount of $5000, but it was necessary since Aslo's bank arrangement held no real use yet. Although, I was glad to know that the bank account had been opened recently and held a reasonable amount. Strange to think that a mere month ago somewhere in Biloxi my thirteen-year-old self would have been talking with Aslo.
It had been 12th October 1917 when I arrived in Chicago so I knew he was still alive and living here. I could have run straight to the Masens' house and burst into their lives again, as always, but I didn't. Instead I had seethed in my hotel room until I was quite certain I was numb. It had taken just a week for me to lose all sense of feeling. I had expected it to take longer, but I was glad it didn't.
I had rarely left my hotel room in the past week, but when I did it was only to walk the streets in a surly state. It was nothing like the previous walks on these cobbled streets, when I would skip, light and happy, as a young girl.
I glanced down at the healing scratches; it was a good thing that the weather was so cold because it made my long sleeved outfits less noticeable.
I shrugged on my navy coat from Belmore and slipped my feet into my red flat shoes which had also been purchased there. It was only my cornflower blue dress vintage dress that Alice had bought that truly blended in with the fashions of the time.
I hadn't really tried to blend in here, possibly due to the loathsome apathy that held me. I didn't pin my hair up like the other girls my age, instead I let it ripple across my shoulders and flutter in the wind. Nor did I join the many adolescent girls in their daily rituals of gossiping at tea, or buying pretty garments. Instead I just walked the streets, visited the library, or roamed through the dusty old music store I had found. My existence was much like it had been in Florida, only seventy years in the past.
I shut the strong oak door behind me, leaving the moderate luxury of the hotel room.
It was nicely decorated with cream refreshing walls and intricate polished furniture. The proportions were probably better suited to a studio apartment than a hotel room so it gave me the sense of privacy and home, though I didn't let myself get too attached.
As I entered the elevator I ignored the open smiles of the few people already present.
I'd had friends and I had lost them too many times to care about making new ones. I was a rock: steady, strong, but unfeeling. It seemed the safest way to be.
I gave a stern nod to the receptionist as she wished me a pleasant day and vaguely heard her talk about me to a new arrival. It was strange how I was the subject of gossip. It seemed society enjoyed talking about those who were elusive, odd, and reclusive.
"Oh yes, that's Miss St Clair. She arrived a week ago. Apparently she has a wealthy guardian." The receptionist's voice was speculative and it was clear her gossiping companions were interested to learn about the strange, unsmiling girl with the mysterious wealthy guardian. I may have been sixteen but I was still an adolescent in their eyes and so my solitary lifestyle was quite unusual.
I swept out of the lobby onto the street without acknowledging or even caring about the gossip revolving around me. People could talk and speculate as much as they wanted, they were never getting in.
My feet tapped steadily on the pavement as I walked through the bustling streets. It was to be Halloween in a week's time so decorations were strung around the streets. Ribbons of orange and black intertwined on lampposts, while carved pumpkins sat in shop windows.
I had never really celebrated Halloween, in fact I had never really celebrated anything, not even Christmas thanks to the tingle ruling my life. My birthdays were generally unnoticed and any other important day was disrupted by other events happening. I knew if I had still been in Belmore with the Cullens we would have indulged Emmett and Alice with Halloween costumes, gimmicks, and tricks. However, here it would just be another day for me to watch pass by.
The hours passed easily, and I found myself wandering out of the main streets towards the residential areas of the town.
It was no real surprise to me that my subconscious had led me to the Masens' home, and I knew it would be so easy to just walk down the street and knock on the large black door. However, my feet didn't move any further down the street, my heart wouldn't let them.
I wasn't ready to face Edward, no matter what form, or age, he may be. I knew that much, but the fact that I had ended up here without my conscious effort was a clear sign that the desire to see Edward Senior and Elizabeth was still there, even if the idea of seeing their son caused a distant ache to resonate in my heart.
Perhaps someday I could knock on their door and throw myself back into their kind friendship. That is if they still would want such a thing. However, that day was not today, so I walked back to the regal Windsor Hotel and situated myself in the far corner of the restaurant to eat.
No one ever sat near me due to the table being in the darker, less desirable, area of the restaurant. It was a blessing as I didn't want to be hassled by pointless chit chat. It was the act of a happy, content person, and I was neither.
An infrequent smile played on my lips as I sat on the velvet piano bench, the ivory keys playing to my every whim.
This was my release. It was one of the precious moments I could almost feel something other than bland nothingness. The music was the aural representation of my emotions.
When my fingertips danced over the piano and filled the air with my musical emotions, I could feel them resonating through my core. The vibrations made me feel a little more alive than just my beating heart and pumping veins. They were just biological, this was almost spiritual.
Another week had passed, and I found it a little more restless than the previous. My walks were no longer aimless as no matter where I went, I always ended up at the Masens' street. Staring down at the black door and wondering if that day would be the day I had the courage to knock upon it. Sometimes I would make it halfway down towards it, other times I would turn away in an instant, but either way I ended up there.
It was disturbing my empty sense of feeling, filling it with flickers of emotions before leaving me numb again.
These piano sessions were my relief, allowing the emotions to play in me just a little longer before I went back to my stone state.
As the music rang out in the air I closed my eyes to the shop. I didn't need to look at the keys because I wasn't playing a set piece of music. It was just me, just an echo of the girl I used to be (before I stuffed down any sense of humanity) and the way she felt. It was the one opportunity when I allowed the old me to escape from the rock-like prison and drift to the surface.
With my hidden self, came the memories, thousands of images flicking through my head, some slowing to allow me a play by play. They didn't hurt, most of them. Even the ones with Edward were nice to remember, although they had a bitter edge. He was my past now, I had to move on.
"You play beautifully." I voice shocked me from my playing, and I spun on the bench to look upon its owner.
I felt my raw emotions spring to the surface as soon as I laid my eyes upon him.
"I apologise, I didn't mean to interrupt." He handed me a tissue, and I took it dumbly, not even realising I had fresh tears running down my cheeks.
His green eyes looked startled, and I watched as he ran a nervous hand through his bronze hair.
A whimper escaped my lips, and I clamped my hand over it firmly. I had to lock down and go back to the numbness because otherwise I would never survive this meeting.
As I dabbed my eyes I took in his appearance. He was older, much older, than the last time I had seen his human self. His face had lost some of its roundness, although it wasn't as defined and angular as his immortal version. His cheeks had a rosy flush, but it could have been from embarrassment as I noticed he was shifting slightly under my gaze.
I blinked hard and pushed down the swell of emotion rising to the surface, half turning back to the piano.
When I opened my eyes again I was content to know that I was back to the stony state that was safest.
I reached out to return the tissue to him, but he shook his head firmly, a tight smile on his lips.
"What was it you were playing, if I may ask?" His voice wasn't velvet, just human, but it still sounded wonderful to my ears.
Damn my feelings, damn my heart, they have no right or use here. And romance can go to hell!
"It doesn't have a name. Just an improvisation." His eyebrows rose slightly, and I had to stop my smile at his surprise. Inside I was burning, pining, and fighting back elation. I would not fall again, I could not fall again, but my heart was battling my mind's choice. It wouldn't win, I was almost certain of the fact because I couldn't do what I did to myself again. I wouldn't be able to survive another romantic attachment – not with Edward.
"I apologise for my rude interruption, especially of such a moving piece. To create it through improvisation points towards a great talent, have you studied in music?" His left arm held a leather bound bundle of papers while his right was bent behind his back in a respectable posture. I didn't let my heart govern my mind's interest in what those papers held, whether they were notes, music, or journals. I would squash any intrigue that concerned Edward and the depths of his character.
"No, Sir, I have not, but I thank you for your compliment." I rose from the piano bench and nodded to him as I went to leave. I had to get away from his presence before my last ounce of emotional control became like ash to the wind.
"Please excuse my lack of manners. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Edward Masen. May I enquire as to your own? Name that is..." He smiled tightly.
"Sarelle, Sarelle St Clair." I kept my voice as polite as possible. I didn't want to inflect any hint of previous friendship because I didn't think I could allow myself to rush into meeting anymore people that meant something to me. If I ever came to meet his parents, it would be under my terms not any coercion by him.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss St Clair." Edward bowed his head slightly in a gentlemanly gesture.
"I express the same sentiment to yourself, Mr. Masen. Good day." I left the shop as soon as possible and gasped from breath as I hit the street.
I could feel it building in the pit of my stomach, the crack forming in my steely facade.
A/N: Thank you for reading and if you were curious Sarelle's piano piece was based on Il Giorni by Ludovico Einaudi