A/N: I know that this Fanfic is really controversial, and some of you are afraid to explore or comment with these types. I get it. That's why I wrote it. I am a Christian, and I wanted to show the God that I know. Although it may look like I'm making God out to be the bad guy, I'm actually not. This is Sophia's POV. She's been raised with fear, so this impacts a lot of her decisions and viewpoints.
"Sophia," Esme called, "Could I trouble you with a favor?"
"Sure," I said, swiveling around from my computer desk to face Esme. She stood in the doorway, her hands folded together and pressed against her stomach.
"I need help delivering baskets to some of the cancer patients at the hospital, and the others are too busy to help. I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."
I never really understood how Esme could be so unselfish, and it almost killed me to say no to her because of it. When I was adopted into this family, Esme went out of her way to comfort and console me. She offered a lap to lay my head upon, a song to caress my ears, gentle hands to brush my hair away from my face, and a secret sort of friendship that I had never known before. She didn't even have to be coaxed into it, she practically grabbed my head and placed it upon her lap. I know for a fact that my grandmother would have never done anything like that. She never approved of anyone, let alone welcomed anyone as wholly as Esme would. Sometimes, after she'd finished with meeting a few of my friends from school, she would say something cruel or extremely rude. She's got a bit of sin in her. Her mother allows her to dress like that? I bet her mother is a heathen.
How the others managed to refuse Esme's charms, I don't exactly know, but I have always been a victim to it, and I doubt Carlisle is any better than I am. If anything, he's thirty times worse.
"Absolutely," I said, getting up from my chair. "I'll go get dressed."
"Meet me downstairs in five? We'll be taking Edward's Volvo."
Apparently all of us aren't immune to Esme. Edward's silver Volvo, for some reason, was incredibly important to him that I'm sure he'd rather sacrifice his wife than allow anyone else to drive it; in fact, the idea of someone else in the driver's seat seemed unconventional. It was as if he and this car held a special connection that no one could understand. I don't know whether it was him just being awfully picky about how his stuff, or him just being haughty, but how someone as intelligent as Edward could be so up tight about a silly car just drives me nuts.
I nodded, and Esme floated back to wherever she came from, and indeed she floated because Esme was so poised and so graceful that she the term "walk" didn't really apply to her. And she didn't sit either, she drifted down to a chair. She didn't laugh, she chortled. Everything about her was completely angelic and feminine that you couldn't help but avert your attention to her. And if it was one thing that you had to take in about Esme, it was how well put together she looked. She was always presentable, whether drenched in designers, or cotton-clad, Esme looked remarkable.
No wonder Carlisle practically flaunts her at the hospital.