You Will Be Mine

A/N: Thanks to the people who were kind enough to add this story to their favourites and alerts, no reviews as of yet, you guys are holding out on me! Please read and review! I should mention that I listened to a lot of Coldplay and Evanescence whilst writing this, figures, you'll get it.

This story is rated M for a reason, I have a couple of lemons planned and some violence will be depicted throughout.

Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga totally belongs to Stephenie Meyer, however, the plot is all mine!

Chapter Two: Stone Cold

Whenever I returned home from work after seeing Victoria, I frequently pondered about informing Esme of her vindictive manner. I see now that I needed to vent, and as understanding as Esme would have been; I was scared. Not scared of her reaction, but scared that I would be forced to face reality. The reality was that I found Victoria's infatuation with myself rather endearing. The only way I can possibly justify the motives behind these sensations are that I was ill. Mentally ill. But these justifications are feeble. I tended to soothe my malicious thoughts of self absorption by reassuring myself of the unconditional affection I bestowed upon Esme. Every time her name granted its appearance within my mind I smiled subconsciously at thought of her waiting patiently for my return.

However that evening, as I strolled through the deceptive calm of the night, my thoughts were distracted by the traumatising screams that continued to reverberate through my mind and bounce against its metaphorical walls. My head throbbed. I ran my hands through my hair and forced myself to remember, so then I could forget.

"You're a liar!" the small girl yelled. She looked as if she could have been the ambassador for distress. She eyed me viciously, but what could I have done? Everyone knows to never retort at a woman as distraught as she looked. Her eyes continued to probe mine for answers. I had none. I couldn't even begin to formulate the questions. She paced back and forward with a searching look on her face. What was she searching for? The toxicology report had given her all the information she could have needed. Shortly after it was handed to her, she ripped it up into shreds like a lion attacking its prey.

"A liar?" I tilted my head to the side slightly, "No Miss, I have not lied to you. You saw it there." I gestured towards the shards of paper strewn on the floor. "Your mother overdosed on sleeping pills, she was experiencing severe abdominal cramps, slowing of heart and breathing rate and she went into cardiac arrest shortly before you arrived here."

"How dare you! Are you getting off demeaning my mother? Do you want to rip my family apart? You are a creep, just tell me the real reas -" I held up my hand causing her to halt mid-sentence.

"I have questions too, except now is nor the time or place; I will leave you to mourn your mother in peace."

"My mother is dead! She obviously wanted to leave; she doesn't care about me, you... anyone!"

I walked away to the sound of stifled groans and painful squealing.

I was not going to forget. This was without a doubt the worst part of being a Doctor – the untreatable. The people who wanted nothing more than to die, disregarding their families, friends and acquaintances. As much as I tried to place myself into their shoes; as much as I tried to empathise, I just couldn't. Some invisible mental barrier prevented me from seeing into these people's minds. Nothing could ever drive me to suicide; it was the coward's way out. I was stronger than that. Dealing with the relatives was just as bad. It was the way they didn't accept what I told them, the way they screamed profanities at me, the way they degraded my status and called me a 'bad doctor' and how I had to watch tightly knit families come apart at the seams.

When I reached my snow topped car, I turned to stare at my tracks. They were solitary in the beautifully lined concrete. As if Mother Nature was forewarning me, was it cruel or kind? My eyes closed and there she was, lying dormant on the hospital bed. Her eyes rolled ominously into the back of her sockets and an everlasting expression of pain settled into her features. As I opened my eyes again I caught a glimpse of colour flash through my trail and ruin the delicate blanket. Not only did it shatter the air of peace that seemed almost plastic now, but it shattered the tiny snowflakes and sent them sweeping through the icy air.

Shaking the stray flecks from my hair, I climbed into my Mercedes and speeded home, eagerly anticipating the greeting I would receive from my wife. I ploughed through the snow that night a little recklessly, I felt uneasy. Those thoughts were pushed aside quickly as reached the drive and pulled in carefully placing myself next to Esme's car.

"Esme?" I called softly then craned my head through the door. There was no answer, so I hung my snow dusted coat in the hall and tentatively shuffled into the front room. Empty.

"Dear?" nerves coated my tone of voice and I grimaced at my ability to swiftly jump to absurd conclusions. Something was wrong, nothing too bad I told myself. But the room, it looked odd. Untouched. The two mugs of coffee from that morning were still placed upon a small stack of magazines, the deep crimson curtains were still drawn, the pillows were still scattered hastily over the dainty loveseat in the far corner of the room and even the small desk lamp was still on, hovering over a small notebook. A notebook that was not there this morning...

"Honey?" I called once more before deciding that merely peeking at this book couldn't possibly confuse the situation any more than it already was. I was anxious, but I would not let it show even though my facade was completely in vain. My hands shook slightly and my forehead creased in discomfort when I caught sight of my wife's handwriting.

"Carlisle,

How can I begin to apologise for what I am about to do? I cannot. I love you so much, but sometimes love isn't enough to glue someone to this earth. I will keep this short as I know you will read this over and over until you have memorised it. For a long time now, I have wanted to die. Not because I was unhappy, but because I was happy. I feel like I have come to the point in my life where I have achieved all my goals. Don't let me hold you back, maybe one day you can get to where I am.

Esme."

I read that note once, twice, four times, just like she said I would. None of it made the blindest bit of sense. I didn't cry at first, I didn't even move. I was frozen in shock, stunned by the selfishness of my wife's last thoughts. It was so drastically out of character that I read it a fifth time. Then it came. The ten kilo weight that was my heart plunged and collided with my stomach causing me to drop the notebook to the floor with a clunk and double over onto my knees. I screamed. The tears came rushing from my eyes and fell onto the page before me smearing the words and mutilating my wife's beautiful script. I screamed again. Self control was violently swept from the table. There were no questions I wanted answered, even though if I wanted to, I could have devised a huge list that would have outnumbered the girl from the hospitals by a long shot. But what did questions matter? My stomach wrenched and I gasped, remembering that I still had to breathe. But I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to breathe. I wanted to die. I curled into the foetal position and rocked side to side, in hindsight, I probably resembled a psychopath. I figured that if I stayed that way for long enough, I would just be forgotten and be allowed join my wife in peace.

I awoke on my back, drenched in cold sweat and shrieking my wife's name. Slowly I became more orientated. I stood, balancing myself on the back of my desk chair. Then I did something manic. I laughed, and I couldn't stop. The latter events of the night before were a hazy blur. Even dream-like.

I made a few calculations in my head and decided that I needed some air. The cool breeze hit me like a brick to the face as I stumbled through the back door. I was surprised to find that the sky was still black and dotted with glistening stars. The moon was scarce in the sky, but bright nevertheless. It lit up my garden dimly. My eyes scanned along the gloomy horizon, and I realised that they ached at the intensity of the lights in the distance. I rubbed my temples in a soothing motion before gradually reaching my sockets. I was taken aback somewhat when I found that my eyes were cool and moist, why? I didn't recall crying, weeping, sobbing or snivelling. Removing my hands, I searched the garden questioningly and dropped my head to stare at the floor. From the corner of my vision, I saw something flash as the rays from the moon danced upon its surface. Abruptly, I span to get a better look. Approaching slowly I noticed that the light was reflecting upon some type of liquid, a liquid with a dull red tinge. Something about that image triggered an onslaught of emotion within me. One foot was pushed onward, then the other, at a sluggish pace, thus prolonging the time before feeling the inevitable amount of pain I knew I was about to endure. I was the host to an internal war. My head told me to be rational, to walk on, and to hold my head high. I wanted to do this, so desperately, but every time I agreed my heart reacted immediately and began to beat erratically. I nearly fainted from the sharp convulsions inside my chest.

Eventually, I discovered that I could not and would not stand there frozen in time and ice forever. Looking up for the first time in what felt like hours, I saw that the sky had grown pale and tiny beams of light were escaping the density of cloud that lingered a little above the highest buildings in the distance. It was at this moment that I felt ashamed of my earlier hypocrisy. Mere hours ago I ridiculed a woman I didn't know for committing suicide. Shortly after, I was wishing death on myself and barefacedly accused Esme of being selfish in taking her own life. I now see the double standards, or quadruple standards if you will. It was now obvious to me, that in those weak moments of anguish, I was the egocentric one. How could I have even contemplated deepening the gash in my family's already battered exterior? Leaving behind my children without an explanation didn't even cross my mind at the time.

As much as I didn't want to, I forced my stare to travel back to the small pool of what could only be described as blood. Except now it wasn't a dull shade of red, it was a vibrant crimson. I immediately thought of Esme's vivacious personality. I groaned words that were barely audible. They were meaningless at any rate.

"It's now or never Carlisle." I tried to comfort myself, but I didn't even recognise my own voice. Normally so full of certainty and authority, but now it was reduced to a husky whisper.

I followed the elaborate path towards the corner that concealed most of the carnage.

Beautiful even in death.

Set on her side with her face twisted into an unconceivable expression. I was bewildered at how calm I was. That must have been my closure, I remember thinking. Her eyes were shut loosely and her lips were bright red, parted softly with a trickle of dry blood stained down to her chin. Much like the way it used to be sprawled among my bed sheets, her hair was in disarray covering a side of her face. Only this time it was dampened and tainted with the blood that once gushed from the wound sat just above her right eyebrow. I didn't register anything else about the disturbing scene. I just studied her face, making sure that I has memorised all of her features perfectly. I dared myself to touch her. But the pressure that gathered inside me wasn't enough to make me succumb. I wanted our last touch to be that morning when she curled into my arms and wished me well. Who would have known?

I started patting myself in a frantic attempt to find my mobile. Soon enough it was in my hand and I was explaining my situation to a stranger on the other end of the phone. They told me five minutes. I didn't care about time, time meant absolutely nothing. I leaned against the wall of my house and sank with hands pressed over my face.

"Dr Cullen, I'm here." Announced a familiar voice some time later, to whom it belonged I didn't know. But it continued and the voice of another human soothed me, no matter how gruff. "It's okay Carlisle. Let's get you out of here and inside whilst the guys clean up this mess."

"Looks like she fell from that window up there." I heard someone conclude. It's funny that before now I didn't even wonder for a second how she did it. My mind was too full of why.

Then my hand was being tugged by another, forcing me to throw myself forward almost crushing Charlie Swan. I didn't know a lot about him, except he was the Chief of Police here in Forks and he had a quaint little family consisting of himself and his daughter. I didn't know her name, but I had seen her around the hospital a lot and assumed that she was either very unlucky or helplessly clumsy. She seemed polite, courteous and warm hearted. She was an attractive woman with long dark locks that fell past her shoulders and warm chocolate eyes.

"Charlie!" I replied with more shock than I thought I had left in me. "Why are you – how did you?"

He cut me short with a cautious smile, "You called the police around 10 minutes ago remember?"

I contemplated that then looked before me and saw crowds of police and investigators swarm into my garden and glance briefly at my wife with expressions of sorrow on their faces. Of course I called the police, my wife was dead.

Charlie sat me at the dining table in the middle of the large kitchen space that Esme was captivated by when we were choosing houses some time ago. I heard the kettle boil faintly in the background and then the small knock of a mug hitting the smooth wood that I leant on.

"Thanks." I mumbled.

"I thought that a good cup of coffee would perk you up a little." He half chuckled and I exhaled noisily in response. Being perky was something I didn't plan to be in a long while, if not, ever. Unimportant awkward small talk followed, Charlie's intentions were in the right place but he was never the man to really show his emotions. After a few minutes he tapped me apologetically on the shoulder and left the room.

I pushed my coffee away, it was now cold and the glistening of the fluid in the artificial light made me ill at ease. My head slammed against the table as I gave up all resistance to gravity.

A/N: Reviews would really help me improve, so don't be afraid to share your opinion! Any thoughts/feelings about this chapter and where you think the story is going? Or do you have any predictions? Share! Thanks for reading.