Thank you, Sherry and Paige, for being such wonderful betas .

"When you're weary

Feeling small

When tears are in your eyes

I will dry them all

I'm on your side

When times get rough

And friends just can't be found

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down."

-Simon & Garfunkel-

EPOV:

I've stared at the fucking thing for what feels like hours. Why do I feel such trepidation every time I'm faced with another piece to the puzzle that is my fucked-up life? A sardonic smile appears on my face at the thought. I suppose I'm just worried because every time I get some new information, I know I won't be able to go back to that time where I was happy not knowing. My eyes remain on the folder as I move forward to finally open it. However, before I do, I take a minute to enjoy the sliver of blissful ignorance I've been hanging onto like a fucking life preserver. Shit in my life is finally working out, I don't want glimpses of my past to fuck that up.

"Fuck it," I murmur. Famous last words.

I flip open the folder on my lap and find crumpled up letters, dating back from the late eighties. Some are cards, some look like letters, some look so creased and worn down by time, that I wonder if the writing is still legible. I flip through the cards, trying to decipher the dates on each envelope. I find one envelope that looks to be dated from July 1989. The ink is smudged and the envelope looks as though it's been opened and closed countless times. Curiosity finally gets the better of me, and I dump the contents of the envelope out onto my lap.

The letter is so fucking wrinkled, I have to take a moment to smooth it out to the best of my ability. Fuck, the ink is smudged beyond belief. I bring it to my face and try to decipher what it says. Jesus, how many times did my dad fucking read this letter?

August 7, 1989

Carlisle,

I can't believe we are having a son. I can't stop looking at his picture. He's so beautiful and I love him so much already. If only you were here to see, my house is filled to the brim with different baby books. I want this pregnancy to be perfect.

After my miscarriage, I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to get pregnant again. So, this little boy is my miracle. I still feel paranoid at times, and at night I wish you were here to comfort me. Charles will be across the ocean for the rest of the year and I'm glad he's gone. For the sake of our baby, and for my own sake as well. I think my miscarriage broke him. His attitude confuses me. He was never there for me during my first pregnancy, but perhaps I don't understand the way my husband's mind works.

You have already done so much more than he did. You haven't missed a doctor's appointment, you listened to me when I needed your support, and even purchased toys and books, although our son won't be here for another six months. Your eagerness has always made me laugh. I'm happy to see you love him just as much as I do.

I am still pinching myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. In only six short months, we'll have our little boy. I'll be dreaming of him until that time comes.

Yours,

Esme.

I didn't know she had a miscarriage. A humorless chuckle escapes my lips and I run a hand through my unruly hair. I don't know much about her in general. Who the fuck am I kidding? I read over the letter again, and my heart swells as I realize that, although I was an obvious accident, both my parents wanted me. That knowledge means so fucking much to me. As a product of an affair, I'm so fucking lucky my dad didn't just push me under the rug, like so many people do with their dirty laundry. He was there for me when it would've been easier for him to run in the other fucking direction.

I set the letter down and find the small ultrasound picture that must have accompanied it. It's dark and fucking blurry, but I can make out the various shapes that must be me. I look like a fucking alien. The picture is worn, especially around the corners where it looks like it has been held many times. I wonder if my mom would stare at this picture when I was no longer with her. The thought of her staring at this all by herself breaks my fucking heart. My mom and dad were fucking adults who knew exactly what they were getting into, nonetheless, that doesn't mean their situation wasn't fucking painful. They knew their actions had consequences, but I know full well that you don't always think of the consequences of your actions before you make a decision. Hell, if I'd cared about the consequences of my actions, I wouldn't be in fucking AA. I can't say I regret my mistakes though, because I'm so fucking content with how my life is today.

I set the ultrasound picture aside and dig for another letter. I come across a fat envelope that gets my attention. It doesn't have any markings on it besides the date January 21, 1990. I open it up to find a stack of photos that I've never seen before. The first few are of my mom, lying on a hospital bed, looking worn out, yet lovely. There's something in her eyes, a sadness perhaps or a feeling I just can't describe. I trace her face with my finger, before moving on to the next photo. My breath catches in my throat and my hand can barely keep steady as I bring the photo closer to my face for a better look. It's of us. I'm so fucking little and I'm crying as I'm curled up against her chest. She's fucking glowing, with her cheek pressed against my bald, little head. My body feels heavy all a sudden, and my eyes itch with tears as I move to the next photograph. This time, I'm dressed with a blue beanie on my head. Mom is holding me and smiles proudly at the camera. Seeing these photos is so fucking overwhelming. I'm getting a glimpse of the crucial bits of my life I fucking missed. It's not like I would have remembered this shit anyway, even if my life had been 'normal', but it's nice to finally see the first moments my mom and I had together.

The next photo shocks me. It's my dad holding me in the hospital. I'd no idea he came to see me when I was born. I wonder how he managed to swing that. He looks as if he just came from work, with his suit on and his tie loosened around his neck. He's holding me in his arms and smiling down at me. He looks so fucking happy in the picture. He must have really wanted me, despite the shitty circumstances. There's a few more photos of him holding me and those photos tug on my heart in a way I don't want to fucking admit. It's just so fucking touching. I wish I had a photo of Charlie and I when he was born and still in the hospital. I could've if I'd had my fucking act together at the time. I'd been too strung out and without a dollar to my name at the time, and I regret that so fucking much. Self-medicating caused me to miss out on so much.

Pushing those unpleasant thoughts aside, I slide the photos back into the envelope and move on to another one. I select one from February 1990 and open it up. There's another picture in this one. This time, it's mom and me at home. I wonder who took it. She's in a dress and has me in her arms, as we sit in a rocking chair by the window. I'm still so fucking little, and while my face is half hidden because I'm nestled against her chest, I can still see that my eyes are closed and I'm smiling. I grin and set the photo on the table away from everything else, to keep it safe. I pull out the letter and read.

Carlisle,

He's getting so big already. My perfect little boy. He rarely cries and he smiles all of the time. I don't know what I did to deserve a baby like him. He's such an easy-going little boy, with such a good nature. I just want to spend every single second with him. I'm afraid if I close my eyes for a nanosecond, I'll miss something really important. Like a new smile, a new expression, or a new movement of his little body. I want to be there to witness everything.

Thank you for dropping by when you can. Edward loves it when you're here, but I understand you can't be here all the time. This is the last thing I wanted for us. I hate the thought of living a double life, but we both are. I regret so much, Carlisle. I regret moving on because I was insecure and easily persuaded. I regret not divorcing my husband as soon as you returned. I regret breaking your heart, which you gave to me so completely. I know I should regret our affair. However, I can't honestly say I do. I will cherish the few days we had together for the rest of my life. We have our son because of it. Edward means the absolute world to me and I love him more than words can describe.

I hope to see you soon.

Esme.

I must have been quite the fucking burden for my dad, despite the love he had for me. He had a family with someone else, and I had just been his bastard baby. I couldn't imagine the fucking mess I caused. I can tell they don't regret their affair and the consequences they faced, but there must have been some guilt there. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to visit with one family before going home to another. It's so fucking disingenuous. They must have known that their charade would come crashing down eventually. However, the way it came crashing down couldn't have been what they expected.

I move on to the next letter. It's dated October 1990, and it's worn down to the point where the writing it barely legible. It doesn't help that the handwriting looks frantic, as the words are practically scribbled across the page. It's my mom's handwriting, I can recognize that much. I can only make out a few sentences, but I can't decipher the letter as a whole.

He's coming home soon. What should I do? I can't keep up this secret much longer.

I can't make out the name or specifics, but I know she's talking about her husband. Based off her handwriting, her husband must have frightened her more than I'd imagined. That fucker, I'd kill him with my bare hands if I had the fucking chance. The way he died was gruesome, but not fitting for his crimes. As soon as my angry haze fades away, I continue my attempt at reading.

He'll know I'm lying…can't afford to go…maybe he changed…I need to protect my baby…

The ink is so smudged and the paper is creased and worn due to the water damage this letter has apparently faced. These few pieces of sentences are all I can make out. I frown at the paper, and give it another shot, but I'm still at a fucking loss. The very last sentence of the letter is legible.

"Promise me Carlisle."

Is all it says, before mom signs her name at the bottom. Her signature doesn't look as neat as it did in her previous letters.

I flip through the stack of envelopes looking for whatever letter came next. I come up fucking short. That frantic letter was the last one she sent while I was still with her. That must have been written right before her husband came back from overseas. She had ten happy months with me before her life came crashing down around her. She must have begged my dad to take me, or so the letter made it seem. I wonder if she knew something problematic would happen, and if so, why didn't she just run away with me?

I know I can answer my own fucking question. Fuck, when I lived in Cali for a while I stayed with my fair share of random fucking strangers. Not all of them were amazing human beings, let's just put it that way. One night in particular, I stayed over at a friend of a friend's house. I crashed on his couch because I had been too fucking drunk to drive my sorry ass home. Wherever 'home' was at the time. He and his girlfriend, who was at least a foot shorter than he was, got into a huge argument in the kitchen. I was way too fucking drunk to recall what they were fighting about, but I'm sure it was just some petty shit. That's all it takes with guys like that, one insignificant little slip up, and they're fucking whaling on you. He ended up beating his girl pretty bad. I tried to call the police, but he immediately stopped me. With drugs all over the house, we weren't in the position to be inviting cops over, although in hindsight, I should have fucking called anyway. The biggest shock to me was the fact that his girl didn't want to press charges. She was so certain he would 'get better' and she would make every excuse for him in the book.

I don't want to think of that shit as weak, because it's like their abusers' brainwash them. They start off sweet, giving their girl everything she wants, and then once the relationship gets comfortable, the abuse begins. They cut the person off from friends and family, monitor what they do twenty-four-fucking-seven, and convince the girl that it's all a good idea. I'm sure this Charles shithead, had done this with my mom. Just as I know that guy from my past did it with his girl. They get their claws in you, and by the time you want to leave…it's too fucking late. I wonder if my mom ever saw leaving him as an option. I don't know if she was too brainwashed to leave, too scared, or what. All I know is, I can't judge her decision too harshly because I forgave Elizabeth time and time again for her fucking terrorizing ways, because I'd always hoped she would change. However, people like that never fucking do.

Moving on, I pick a new envelope that looks as if it was sent to a Mr. and Mrs. Platt, which I assume are my grandparents. As I open the letter, a few wallet sized photos come tumbling out. They're baby pictures of me. Ones that I've never seen before. I look so small in the photos, but I have a huge smile on my face. I look like one of those babies you would see on the cans of baby food. I don't even fucking recognize myself at all. I'm definitely not cute like that anymore. The photo is dated August 1991, so that means I had been in my dad's care for a while. Mom told me he took time off work to care for me, and I wonder what I looked like when he first took me in.

Esme,

These pictures are the best I can do. Edward is thriving here. He's happy with his new brother. Luckily, Seth is too young to understand the situation. He's been wishing for a brother, so he just believes his wish has been granted and Edward came just for him. Seth loves him so much already.

Esme, I just wish you could be here. I don't want to tell you how much Edward misses you, because I can't bear the thought of you being sad. I just don't know what to say.

I'll give him the best life possible. I'll try my best. You made a promise to stay out of his life, but I don't want you to miss anything. I'll send you pictures of him whenever I can. God, Esme. I just wish everything was different.

Yours,

Carlisle.

I couldn't imagine how tough it must have been for my mom. To say goodbye to me without knowing when, or if, she would ever see me again. It would have fucking gutted me. She thought she was doing the right thing, and she loved me enough to let me go. If she hadn't given me up, I wonder if I would have survived to have been here today. It's easy to criticize her decisions in hindsight, but at that moment in time, she was making the decision she believed to be best. I would do the same for Charlie if I had to. As much as it would fucking destroy me, I'd do it because I love him so much more than I love myself.

I continue opening one envelope after the next. Each has photos of me and updates on my progress. Dad had sent her every one of my school pictures, with long letters describing how proud he was of me. It's uncomfortable to read his words because at the time, I had never been proud of myself. Fuck, I hated myself up until recently.

There's more than just letters, there are various cards sent by my mother. They had been sent to my dad's office, so they would remain far away from Elizabeth. She never missed a birthday, and that thought crushes me more than I imagined it would. I can see her now, sitting at a desk with a pen in hand, all alone as she writes to her son that she hasn't seen in such a long time. I can't imagine the pain she must have endured. Fuck, looking at this shit is difficult. My family had been such a fucking mess, and I had no idea.

With a heavy heart, I open one birthday card after another. The first one is so fucking sad. She was two months shy of spending my first birthday with me. Just looking at her scribbled handwriting across the card makes my stomach fucking twist until I think I'm going to puke. I vigorously rub my face, in an effort to loosen up my muscles that have become tense with emotion. I take a deep breath, and begin to read.

To my special little boy on his birthday,

I can't believe you've been on this earth for a year! You are so very special to me, Edward. It felt like just yesterday, when I was holding you in my arms. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. While I'm not with you, know that you're in my heart.

I wish I were there to read to you on your special day. I've been reading our favorites at night and I came across a special story I wanted to share with you. It's from one of your favorites, Winnie the Pooh, and I know we have read it so many times, but now it's more relevant than ever.

If ever there is a tomorrow when we're not together.

There is something you must always remember.

You are braver than you believe,

Stronger than you seem

And smarter than you think.

But the most important thing is

Even if we are apart

I'll always be with you.

Happy Birthday, son. I love you more than words can describe.

I reach up to rub my jaw, because my muscles are feeling hard as a fucking rock. My skin is wet, and I realize I've been fucking crying. I'm still crying. The tears keep coming and I close my eyes, allowing myself the freedom to let my emotions escape. There are no words to describe the feelings that are coursing through my body. I can feel her love, her pain, and the loss she dealt with. I can relate to every single feeling because I lost her. I lost a mom who loved me for so many years, because the circumstances that surrounded our lives were complete shit. I can't say I wish things were different, only because, if they were, my present would be very different as well. However, I do wish I could carry her pain for a while, just so she could be happy without the baggage that accompanied her. Even if only for a moment.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and finish reading my birthday cards. They're all similar, and while they are uplifting and encouraging, they are so fucking melancholy at the same time. She'd kept me in her thoughts for all these years, and I regret not being able to do the same. Of course, I hadn't known about her, but if I had I'd make sure we had a relationship. There's one last letter my dad saved. He sent my mom pictures of me graduating from elementary school. I had a huge, toothy grin and held my 'diploma' in my hand. Esme wrote back, expressing how proud of me she was. I can't help but wonder if she had known me growing up, if she'd have still felt the same way.

He's wonderful, Carlisle. He gets more and more handsome each year. I love him so much. Take care of our son, Carlisle. He's the only piece of me you have at the moment. Edward is all we have left of our love. Can you believe this handsome, intelligent, and mature little boy is ours? He seems too good to be true. Give him an extra kiss for me, and an extra 'I love you'. I love him more than I could ever describe.

I let her letter fall to the floor at my side and bury my head in my hands.

My son's cries stir me from my thoughts. I take a deep breath, wipe the tears off my face, and get up to go check on him. I walk pass my bedroom and find Bella bookmarking the page of her book before getting up as well. I want to give her a break from taking care of Charlie, and I also want some alone time with my son. He always helps me unwind, and after all that emotional shit, I definitely need it.

"It's okay, baby," I say, stopping her in her tracks, "I got him."

She gives me a small, concerned smile but doesn't say anything. I wrap her in my arms and kiss her temple, wanting her to know that I'm okay and there's nothing she has to worry about. Her body relaxes against mine and she nuzzles her face against my chest before going back to her book and letting me attend to my son.

Charlie's face is red and his legs and arms are kicking as he sobs. I scoop him out of his crib and hold him against my chest, kissing his face until his cries become softer. I take him to the living room and sit with him on the couch where I'd been reading moments before. He's calmer now that I'm holding him and I'm calmer too. I hadn't realized how fucking tense I was until I picked up my little boy.

"Daddy's here, Charlie. Everything is alright."

His eyes widen as he looks up at me. It seems that the sound of my voice soothes him.

"It's alright, Charlie. I'm here, everything is fine."

He blinks his eyes a few times, before giving me a watery smile.

"Aw, buddy. Everything's alright."

He smiles, hiccups, and says, "Da da! Da da da!"

"I love you, buddy."

He smiles and moves his mouth as if he were trying to form the words. Random sounds come out of his little mouth, as if he were trying to say 'I love you' to the best of his ability.

"I love you, son," I tell him again.

He grins as he watches my mouth, and tries to tell me he loves me again. I run my hand through his hair and watch him try to speak before he finally says 'Da da' and grabs my finger, pulling it toward his little mouth.

"I love you too, buddy. I love you too."

A/N: Aw, this was a sad one. I'm going to start posting unedited previews of chapters on my Facebook group "The Highlander Princess's Clan." So, please join if you're interested!

Song- "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon & Garfunkel.