March 26, 1911

Diary,

We're home now. A few bruises taint my skin. They say it's for my own good, but what good is it doing? There's one on my right arm, left leg, and stomach, but they could be worse. There could be one on my face.

When I was a small child they were on my face. I was told to tell others how I 'fell down the steps' or 'tripped on a tree root as I was picking flowers for my darling mother whom I loved so, very much' and everyone beloved those idiotic stories.

I didn't see how they were believed. Those were my only two lies and I always had to use them twice a week each.

I learned at a young age that people always see what they want to. They looked at me and saw a perfect, little angel, but my parents said that was a lie. They ruined the thought or,should I saw fantasy, of finding my Prince Charming?

I giggle my recent thought. Dr. Cullen was very prince like. He had angelic hair, perfect skin, and a smooth voice. He made my heart flutter.

I shouldn't be thinking about him. I'm a child! He would never fall for me like I am for him. A girl could dream, couldn't she? Maybe I could dream, but not in this house, never in this house which I'm held prisoner in for another three weeks.

I hold my coat to me, now. It's cold in my bedroom. The sun has fallen in the sky and the moon is up. I'm staring out the window. It's a full moon and I can see everything. I can even see the figure walking towards my house.

It's a man. He's disappeared from my sight. There's banging on the wall under my window. My hearts racing. I'm so, very nervous! I pushed myself further from the window. I'm sitting in my wheelchair. I won't be able to fight back.

He was in my room. His blonde hairs pushed out of his gold eyes. How did he get up here? I'm in shock. He's walking closer. He gets down on his knees in front of me. He sees the bruises. He touches them gently.

"Esme," he says.

I'm frozen as he stands and lifts my chin. What is he doing? He's leaning towards me. I can feel his cool breath down my face while mine is hitched in my throat.

"Can I kiss you?"

I don't answer. I look at him as I'm paralyzed. I shake my head yes and meet him to my lips. They were soft. They were perfect and gentle just like his touch.

He does love me, at least I think he does. He's holding me now. We are laying in my twin-sized bed. It's not big enough for us to lay side-by-side. I'm half on top of him.

If my parents knew about this they would kill me, literally. I would be six feet under in less than a week. My body would be unrecognizable.

Not ever Carlisle, being what ever he is, would be able to identify my possible mangled body.

It's almost dawn and he's still here. I'd fallen asleep in his arms and he was still here. He did love me. I was sure of it. I lean up for a good morning kiss and he grants it.

"I'm moving."

I pull away from his chest. I'm shocked. He can't leave me. I love him. He can't leave me with my God-awful parents. I ask him to take me with him.

"I wish I could."

I just died a little. Tears are in my eyes. They are falling onto this page. He wipes them off my cheeks.

"Don't cry."

He doesn't understand that I can't help it. These tears that are falling and smearing the words will forever remind me of my first heartbreak. It will remind me how close I was to having a perfect life, how close I was to being a princess and having someone that loved me who wouldn't hurt me.

Forever,

Esme Anne fPlatt