I would replay the morning repeatedly for weeks. Again and again. Unable to put into words what I knew I saw.
I was walking through the parking lot.
Amelia had texted me about some new couple, an absolute train wreck.
I had been preoccupied, until someone screamed my name.
I didn't even realize the car was there until it was starring me down.
I felt like a deer looking into the headlights of Triston Beck's ugly, green SUV.
I didn't move. Instead, I remember clutching the phone tighter, feeling like my blood had turned into firecrackers.
I opened my mouth to scream when I was hit from the side.
Something cold, stone-like pushed me from the side, away from the SUV.
Then Edward Cullen, with his creepy eyes and wax skin, was kneeling beside me asking if I was okay.
He even reached out a hand to help me up. I took it, but jerked away when I felt how cold his hand was. It became really clear to me, in that second, Edward Cullen saved my life.
But how? I don't know. He had to have been going far faster than any human I knew. And the texture of his skin was off. He didn't feel human.
The whole situation made absolutely no sense. Not only was I on the side of the road, I wasn't sitting in a pile of snow. He had dragged me from the path of death, across two huge puddles, onto the only dry part of the cement. And my bag was tucked onto my lap. My cell phone was in the front pocket of my backpack, with the rest of my things inside as well.
It had been open when I was crossing. Yet, here I was, dry and neatly organized. With Edward Fucking Cullen standing above me with his weird expressionless face.
He saved me. And yet it made him even more terrifying. Before he had been a human stalker, the sort of boy who asks too many questions and memorized your class schedule. I had dealt with people like that before. But this? This was something right out of Eerie, Indiana… or the Twilight Zone.
When I recoiled from his marble hand, he knelt down next to me and tried to pick me up. I stiffened but was frozen in shock. By the time people noticed what had happened, I was being taken under the overhang and placed on a dry bench.
I proceeded to bend over and puke coffee and eggs onto the floor.
Edward held my hair back, pushing my head forward enough to keep me from yakking on myself.
People surrounded me. They asked if I was okay. If I needed to call an ambulance. No one seemed surprised that Edward Cullen was beside me, like some lover keeping me from harm.
I wouldn't have questioned it either, to be fair. But the unfairness of this mystery wouldn't hit until I was home, tucked in bed, with a bruise that looked like a hand on my left side.
Edward played some kind of part. He was the hero of the hour. People were telling him he did a great job, pulling me away. I realized, weeks after this happened, how easily humans wanted a happy ending. They didn't have any real reason to question his heroism.
And I didn't either. But I did. I questioned everything that happened but could not come up with any real answers. Part of me didn't even want to know what happened.
I scrambled for my cell phone, to text my dad. Edward said someone had already called and I felt like I just wanted to sleep.
"I think I need to see a doctor," I said.
"You might have a concussion," Edward said.
"No… shit…" I said and then puked again.
I am not sure how much time went by; my head was spinning. My side hurt, where Edward had shoved me out of the way.
Could be worse, I suppose. I could be dead.
When I stopped heaving out my insides, someone gave me some water and told me to drink slowly.
It was early enough that the school nurse hadn't finished dropping off her kids, so the first person to check me out was a cute EMT.
Edward escorted me to the hospital. I had demanded someone let me bring my backpack, even while I was being attached to the bed.
Edward slung the yellow backpack over his shoulders and sat on a little seat in the back. I spent most of the trip looking at Edward trying to figure out what the fuck he had done.
Edward stayed with me even after my Dad arrived. He gave us a few minutes alone, but came back to sit in the chair. Dad was red-faced, but relieved to see me. It was a weird transition from how Renee liked to handle me being sick. I did end up needing an X-ray, and pain killers… but was allowed to go home after a few hours. The whole time Edward remained, claiming he felt responsible for me. I didn't have the energy to ask him to leave and was afraid he might take offense. Something was wrong, off balance, and I just wanted to forget what happened.
My dad thanked him and said he could never repay him. It was highly dramatic, but it was nice to have a parent actually give a shit.
When Dad suggested calling Renee, I jerked my head around so fast I almost got sick again.
"Don't you dare call her," I said.
"Okay," Dad said. But he was inching towards his pocket.
"I am telling you not to call her," I said. I sounded shaky and was close to crying. "Please."
Dad agreed, at least for the moment. Then his phone went off, I said he should take the call.
I was about to ask Edward to just... forget I existed... When Dr Cullen walked in.
Dr Cullen made me feel like my head was going to explode. There was something off about him. Really, really off. It made a terrible sense that Edward would take after his own father. Who would take on horrible children unless they were a monster themselves? And I felt, deep down, that Dr Cullen was some kind of monster. Something that I shouldn't be near.
Still, no one else seemed panicked. No one else was screaming.
Dr Cullen asked the normal questions, "Date of Birth?"
"1987." I felt like my jaw was melting. "September 13th."
"Fourteen years old," Dr Cullen said.
"Something like that." I snapped.
Dr Cullen asked what happened. Did I remember much?
I recoiled from his weirdly stiff smile and expressionless face.
"Edward pulled me out of the way, and I ended up on the side of the parking lot," I said. "It was nice of him to keep me out of the puddles."
Edward had tried to make some excuse, but I didn't really care. Dr Cullen glanced at me with the same amber eyes as Alice.
I could have overlooked this whole incident if the whole fucking family didn't look like this.
"Edward says you hit your head," Dr Cullen said.
"Then that's what happened," I said. I nervously played with the edge of the blanket.
"But you said…" Edward began.
"How would I know anything," I said. "I hit my head. Human memory sucks. I forget things all the time—ADHD and all that."
Dr Cullen nodded, slightly, to me and said I was free to go home... After I got some water in me and the room stopped spinning. I think I took a nap for a little bit, because my Dad ended up waking me up saying everything was ready to go. He said he would pull the car around and Edward would help me down. I froze.
I started crying the moment he left. Edward looked surprised. "Is everything okay? I'm sorry if—I didn't mean to scare you," Edward said.
"This. You did something and I don't even know what you did."
I cried harder and Edward put a cool hand on my bare shoulder. I didn't know why it was so upsetting, but the closer he got the more I felt like my insides were vibrating, my blood going cold.
It was not attraction. I was repulsed by him. It was something acidic eating away at me. My nerves were on fire.
"Don't touch me," I said. "Not unless I'm gonna die. Then feel free to save me again."
"You aren't going to ask any questions?" Edward said, removing his hand.
"No."
"Why not?" Edward asked. He was sitting in the chair again, almost completely still.
"You give me the creeps. Your sister Alice makes me want to dig my own grave. Your dad looks like someone brought a corpse back to life. I am not okay with any of this. I don't want this at all, so please don't include me in your weird shit."
When I refused to let Edward help me, he went to get my dad.
My dad came in, looking surprised, because Edward did save me. I said I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted a hug and to go home and sleep.
Dad said he wanted to call Renee. I said if he called her, I would never forgive him. "I don't want her to know anything about my life. Anything. At all. Ever."
And he agreed not to tell her.