None of these characters belong to anyone other then Stephine Meyer.

While I did create the plot, I owe thanks to my Beta.

You should check out her stories, The Deadliest Game: The Hunger Games, and Fuel to the Fire: Catching Fire.

You should leave a great review supporting her, because she's just that awesome and while you're there you might as well add her to your Alert list.

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Bpov

I stared into the dark night; once again wishing things were different that night.

I wish things went how they were planned. It was times like this were I reran the whole night through my mind, checking every detail. Trying to pinpoint exactly were we went wrong. How six months of training and planning could go wrong. I always wondered what we could have done to change things.

I forced myself to look at the gravestone in front of me and realized I caused that.

I make myself remember how many time I begged him to help me, swearing nothing could happen.

My eyes start stinging and I wish I could cry. Except I cried all my tears that night. I lost everything that night.

Flashback

"Team Leader, code red. We have a Code red at the final destination" comes out of my radio

In seconds my bare feet are pounding against the cold floor. The bottom of my skirt threatening to trip me, I reach for it while I ran and ripe half of it off. I drop the offending fabric and keep running.

Jumbles of thoughts are going through my head but all I can think is 'Don't die, please don't die'

When I reach the door I basically rip the door off the hinge. I storm into the room and stop mid step.

There is a pool of blood in a door way. I know the person in there needs my help but for a second I believe if I ignore them then it's not really. I force myself to make the steps into the room. The second I see the crumbled body I realize two things. He's the love of my life and there is no way he can survive this. I pull him into my arms and cradle his head. His eyes drift open and I can see death seep in. I lean in and brush my lips against his. When I pull my head back I hear him whisper something. I freeze and by the time I adjust to the words, I see that death has taken him

End of Flashback

I never told anyone what his last words were.

I bring my fingers to the gravestone; I trace the letters with my numb index finger.

E

I smile from all the memories of our childhood.

D

I laugh at memory of prom

W

I find myself wishing he was still here.

A

I wish we could have had a life each other

R

To know each other, other then being best friends.

D

I wish I could carry his child. At least I would have a part of him left.

Cullen

I wish I could have planned our wedding.

I wish I could trade places with him

I pull my finger back and replace my glove.

I pull my jacket tighter and start on the long journey to the car.

I place myself into autopiliot, the next thing I know I'm curled on my couch grasping the last picture of us together to my chest. The edge of the frame digging into my chest, drawing blood.

I hardly notice. I would have watched every ounce of blood drip from my body if that meant he could live.

I only squeeze tighter.

I close my eyes as tight as possible and pray that I'll wake up the next morning and find out this was just a horrible nightmare. That it never happened.

But deep down I know it did happen.

I Isabella Swan am the reason of Edward Cullens death.