A/N: "Who I Am" by Missy Higgins
I didn't feel like going inside of the patients' rooms, and in all honesty I didn't want to be at the hospital with all of that blood running in every room, but I couldn't leave Esme behind. Instead, I waited patiently in Carlisle's office, typing on his flat screen computer. I decided to write a story, a short and stupid one about a dog and his owner, and I don't even know how the hell I came up with it, or why my head went into that direction. It was a pretty lame attempt at writing to be honest, but it was something to do.
It's easy to say that I got bored quickly.
I spun around in his chair, busying myself with silly thoughts, like what I could do while Esme was off being human. At first I was entertaining. Then it got boring. I began to think about God again. I wondered if God ever thought about Esme or Carlisle, and the good things that they have done. I wonder if He commends them for it. Is He proud of them? Does He even care?
I haven't prayed in three years. He's probably forgotten about me. I'm sure He doesn't really care though, I mean He's got other things to take care of: people who need saving, people who are worth His time, people who actually deserve Him. What good is caring about someone who can't be saved again? I'm already damned to hell. My soul has already been stolen, and I won't ever see heaven because having one is part of admission. It's useless.
I'm useless.
It's not a good feeling, knowing that God has forgotten you. It's like feeling unwanted. Shame showers your body daily like rain, and you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. I feel disgusting. I feel like the child that is never mentioned, who is such a disgrace that they are unmentionable.
I am unwanted. I am ashamed. I am unmentionable.
Someone's approaching the door, though the footsteps are not human. They're too light. They knock on the door first.
"Come in," I say.
The doorknob twists open and Edward steps in.
Shit.