Her Fallen Angel
Disclaimer: What? I don't own Twilight? Thanks, now I'll have to come up with a new denial mechanism! And you know how hard that is!
A/N: Please review, but also tell any suggestions you may have! It started out as a Twilight story but kind of turned into something completely different--so characters might not be the same, etc. Some is based on personal experience. I:) that is a stupid smiley. and i will stop talking...now.
As Bella slept, she dreamed. And as she dreamed, she kicked until the sheets were tightly balled up around her feet, and she kept kicking and shivering until she fell off her bed onto one of the "safety chairs" her parents had placed around it to prevent accidents. Inevitably she would roll off the chair and hit the floor, but she didn't want her parents to hear. She was afraid of Renee's reaction, and even though she couldn't have said so, she blamed herself for the obvious tension between her mother and Charlie. So, she would cry softly into her pillow as a cooing dove. This is when he came to her the first time and every time after.
He crept up to her window and opened it easily. He treasured this time when no one could interrupt; it was then he could see his beautiful doll. He liked the thought that while everyone else was doing all the ordinary things that made up their lives—sleeping, fretting over a job, a task unfinished, a wrong that could not be undone, watching television or listening to their snoring spouses—he touched all of the world's beauty at once, too selfish, he thought, to share the visceral experience with anyone. The wisest face he had ever seen, the beauty of all the art of centuries! And life had excluded him long ago.
It was a strange sort of life he had. Everything that he knew came and passed away. Love was lost. History repeated itself. Every person caught up in his own betrayals, passions, romances, and tasks. Each person leaving a tiny stain on the world that, for all he had seen, could soon be wiped away with the newest fabric formula. And here he was, no longer a part of the cycle, and yet he lived.
He watched, enraptured, as dust floated in the morning's first light and danced over her eyelashes. He felt her cheeks as soft as rose petals, and just as frail. At any time a touch too strong might cause her to wilt. As soon as she began to stir, he leaped out the window with amazing speed.
Some unusual things occurred to Bella, which is saying a lot considering her slightly obsessive and unusual mind. For one thing, upon waking up several days in a row she found her window open and the curtains flapping, blowing drafts of the cold rainy wind right into her bed. Then there was the fact that she hadn't found any new bruises or cuts from her nightly falls. She was still missing the chairs every night—wasn't she? But the most unusual thing that occurred to Bella was the intense comfort she felt each morning as she awoke. She didn't have a word for it, since she had never experienced such feelings in her short life.
Usually she did her best to avoid telling Renee such things—she knew that her mother put on a brave face about the "accidents" until Charlie got home, then released all her anger in what Bella called negative behavioral patterns. (A few times she'd tried to explain this to her classmates…their only response was to confusedly curl their lips, stare at her for a second, then exclaim, "Who wants to hear me rap!") So she swallowed her fears and told her mother. She put herself to sleep early that night so she wouldn't have to listen to the "diplomatic discussion," as her parents called it. Little did she know that he was right there holding her.
It was weeks before he realized how young and small she was—only a little girl. He could hardly remember when he'd been a little boy. Time meant nothing to him now, as did age, politics, the news, and many other things that passed quickly. So he knew that he must not make his presence known to his love just now. In a few years, which were like a few minutes to him, after all, she would be grown up. Then maybe she would understand. He knew how beautiful she would be. He laughed at the thought that she would someday learn karate, play several instruments, make new friends, and even go through life's mandatory year as cheerleader; he laughed at the changes that would play across her face as if an artist, indecisive, was constantly adjusting the contours of it. He hoped that someday he would have the courage to be more than a stalker; it was obvious he couldn't tell anyone about his visits to his doll.
As he thought of her fleeting life, tears came to his eyes. It wasn't going to be a fluffy, petty existence like the other humans' he had come across. She was going to suffer, she was going to cry out in pain that she didn't know how to deal with, because no one around her had ever known it. She would think things that no human should ever have to think of. But her childhood would be a blur of posed pictures, and no one would ever know.
He had to think of a way to make her life a happy one. All he could do was sit on the sidewalk of time with her, waiting to fall off and be eaten by the giant guinea pigs.
Bella didn't know then, nor would she know for years that her angel was right beside her. And she was falling less often, just as she'd prayed for!
"Doll." He gently kissed her forehead. "I do love you so…" He pushed her back onto her bed once again, Bella giggling softly in her sleep. "Please, stay a very, very long time. You are something that is truly impossible."