Oh my god, I can't believe I actually got two reviews in one day!! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!
I got so excited when I got home from school to find those reviews waiting!! :) I want to dedicate this story to the two people who reviewed!! Thank you again!
The searing pain was excruciating as the carriage jostled along the stone road. Every single time the wheels rolled over a slight bump, my leg jolted in a way that almost made me sick. I knew that would not be a good idea, as my father was already furious with me for even being in a tree. I knew he wouldn't yell at me now, as I was lying here in the back of the carriage, my face pale and slick with cold sweat. Even he didn't have the heart to do that. But I knew the instant I was out of harms way, all hell would break loose. Another sickly shake went through the buggy, and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. My mother's cool hand gently stroked my clammy forehead, scraping my greasy hair back.
Oh when are we there?
I thought desperately. I had decided very firmly that I would not vomit or cry, but my willpower was waning. Just as I thought this, I felt the buggy skid to a halt suddenly. I relaxed my tense muscles and breathed out heavily. I glanced out the window, seemingly far above me, and glimpsed houses and a streak of the darkening sky. If it had been any other day, I might have been excited about being in town, but at the moment I simply wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep.
I heard my mother's soft voice talking to my father. His voice rumbled in reply, and I heard him jump off the carriage and his footsteps walk away.
"Your father has gone to fetch the doctor, Esme. He'll be back in a moment." Mother whispered in my ear. I nodded mutely, not daring to move in fear that it would trigger the pain in my leg. I drifted into an uneasy sleep, my dreams full of blaring colors and noises.
My eyes snapped open. I was met with light so bright, I had to squint through my lashes. I was lying in a square, white room on a bed with white and rather itchy sheets. There was a handsome oak door on the left side of the room. The light was coming from an open window to my right. I could see a tiny finch sitting on the windowsill, whistling a merry tune. The frilly curtains blew towards me in a sudden breeze, as if they were reaching for me. The cool, late spring air was just what I needed. I could hear noises coming from the street outside. People yelling, kids laughing, horses clip-clopping along the cobblestone streets. I remembered that I was in Columbus. I sat up tentatively; scared my leg would cause me the same ache. To my wonder, I found the small movement didn't inflict any pain. I reached out a hand and pulled the covers up to my waist to examine my leg. It was covered in something white and hard that held it in place. I grabbed the hem of my skirt to investigate further, when the door to my left suddenly swung open.
My head snapped up so quickly it was almost painful. Though pain was the last thing on my mind as I saw the man who had just entered the room. He was tall, he was young, pale and he was so handsome it made my stomach clench. With another clench in my stomach, this one from embarrassment, I threw the covers over my exposed legs as quickly as my arms would allow.
"Ah, miss Platt, lovely to see your eyes open at last," The man said, strolling into the room with such elegance I gawked. His voice was so captivating, so appealing I felt a blush spread from my neck to the roots of my hair. His voice had a slight accent, British I should think, and my heart gave an irregular thump.
He walked, or glided, to the foot of my bed, and looked straight into my eyes.
"How is your leg?" He asked, gesturing at the lump under the covers.
I swallowed, feeling hazy as I tried to look away from the terrible beauty of his liquid golden eyes.
"Fine," I managed to croak. My voice sounded grotesque set in direct contrast with his perfect articulation.
He nodded, and said, "My name is dr. Carlisle Cullen, and I will be your attending for as long as you will be staying here at the hospital."
Carlisle? What an odd name. Odd but it suited him well, somehow. It had a nice ring to it, and along with his fluent voice, he made it into music. I suddenly realized that I must look absolutely awful. I reached up a hand to touch my limp hair, smoothing it desperately over my shoulders.
Dr. Cullen moved closer, and for one sweet, dazzling moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. I blushed as I banished the thought. Don't be foolish, Esme! Instead, he reached out a snowy hand and rested it on my forehead, checking for a fever. It was as icy as the color of his skin suggested, and without thinking I flinched slightly. Dr. Cullen noticed, and quickly drew his hand away. I could have kicked myself.
"Sorry," He murmured, checking the chart I had only just noticed he held, "They're always cold."
I smiled timidly at him, not trusting myself to speak. His answering smile was so dazzling; it was like staring at the sun for too long. My breath caught, and I thought to myself this must be what angels look like. A gust of wind blew through the window, and dr. Cullen's scent hit me straight in the face. I inhaled deeply, my mouth watering. It was the most delicious scent I had ever smelled in my entire 16 years. He smelled of rain, lemon blossom and that unnamable scent that's in the air in autumn. Unthinkingly, I leaned closer to him.
He seemed to notice, and delicately dodged around to check on my leg. I was glad he wasn't looking, for I was as red as a beetroot. I got even more embarrassed as he poised his hands over the covers, asking
"May I, miss Platt?"
"Of course, dr. Cullen" I answered, and I was pleased to find that my voice didn't waver at all. I was never usually like this; shy, unable to find the right words. My father said I could talk the hind legs of a donkey if I wanted to, and nothing could normally make me blush. Dr. Cullen had managed to dumbfound me in a matter of seconds.
He swept the covers away, and hitched my skirt up above my knee. Even though I knew he was only being professional, I couldn't help but quiver at his delicate touch. I scolded myself inwardly.
Is this how a lady would behave, Esme? A voice in my head said, sounding uncannily like my mother.
Dr. Cullen gently examined my leg with a touch so feather light, that I felt no pain at all.