Nobody got teasers; sorry mother nature was not kind to my internet connection. :( And this chapter is a little late—sorry!
Chapter 14
Jasper and Emmett went out, to play their games; I didn't bother asking what they played. I knew enough about them that it was something mindless and indubitably involved some form of wrestling.
I took this opportunity to speak of what was on my mind.
"Edward, can we talk about something?" I called tentatively; he was currently in the kitchen, concocting who knows what. His eyebrows came down to form a worried grimace.
"Sure, what's wrong?" He set down whatever he was holding and stepped into the room, I sighed uneasily and looked down at my twiddling thumbs. I didn't want to talk about it, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But it needed to be said.
"Our endeavor to Ole' Rust was unsuccessful. But you were right before. I would have regretted it if I had just ran back to my side as soon as possible, I needed to know this; that he's deceased." My voice broke. I refused to look him in the eyes.
He tilted his head in confusion. "No problem, but where are you going with this?"
I sighed shakily, barely choking out the words. "That was my main reason for staying, and now that it's out of the way, the only thing keeping me here is my memory. And that hasn't made its appearance yet." I couldn't finish the sentence; I prayed he'd catch on.
"So, you're worried that, it might be permanent?" He offered in a quiet tone; his face contorted, as if he'd just considered the fact.
"Yes." I exhaled, glad I didn't have to say it out loud. He didn't reply immediately. He looked like he was thinking about it intensely.
"That presents a complication." He rubbed his chin (which had a stubble on it, I had just taken notice), as he contemplated. He gazed at the wall.
"Exactly," I started, hoping to get some set information. "So, do I just go back blind?" He perked up at that.
"No." He said quickly, and then stayed silent for a second. "…I mean, because it would dangerous."
"That's what I'm saying, or trying to say." I chuckled half-heartedly; it kind of ended in a choked sob.
His eyes locked with mine, and I was stuck. I couldn't look away. "What do you want to do?" He asked. Please don't ask me that. Anything but that. Ugh, curse him.
"I don't know." I answered honestly; relieved I was able to give him a response that didn't point either way. He seemed dissatisfied by that.
"Let's look at this logically," I was about to groan; I wanted to know what he wanted. It was my not so sly way of trying to find out where he wished me to be. "Going back blind would be bad, but staying here would be bad too."
"Well, if we're looking at it logically, then it's best to stick with what we know?" I phrased more as a question. "We don't know what will happen if I try to go back; but we can sort of predict what will happen if…" I absolutely, refused to finish that sentence; not whilst I held his gaze. It was something I would never do.
"Wait, do you actually want to stay?" His voice was full of disorientation and bafflement; I held my head toward the floor; he'd said it as if he'd never thought he'd ever hear the words. Actually, I never thought I'd say them.
"Logically." I answered softly; feeling an embarrassed smile plaster itself on my hidden face.
"Okay, okay, this is too rich." He snickered, and went into a laughing fit, my face was beat red when I turned it up to glare at him.
"Shut up! I thought we were looking at it logically." I scolded him; anger coursed through me. Anger directed at myself. I was stupid to bring it up in the first place.
"Oh come on, let me enjoy the moment." He breathed in and out, as if to take it all in. I raised my hand and smacked him roughly on the forearm. I really didn't want it rubbed in my face.
"Really Edward, stop." I uttered in a low, hurt voice, and his playful manner disappeared, and he somber.
"You're serious." He asked in a tone as low as my own. It wasn't a question, more of a statement.
"I wouldn't joke about something like this." My voice shook; I couldn't look him in the eye.
He seemed perplexed by this, "I don't think you'd like it much over here." He was suddenly on the same page as I, just as serious.
"Logically, remember?"
"You'd miss your friends."
"Logically."
"You'd get tired."
"Of what?" I jerked up, surprised by this; his eyes locked once more with mine.
"Everything. Having to hid, being alone…seeing me day in and day out." He finished shyly.
"If we're thinking strictly reasonably, then all of that doesn't matter." I reminded him, "None of that would matter if I died on the other side." I finished coolly. His eyes suddenly were burning, boring into my own. I held my breath, as I received this intense look.
"We're no longer talking about just a plan— we're talking about a lifestyle. These things count in the long run." He sorted through it; he was just so consistent in his thinking.
I sighed, angrily. "But why would you think I'd be alone?" I folded my arms across my chest.
"You'd be the only woman on this side, you'd have no one to connect with, and you'd just have me in your face all day, every day." He disagreed vehemently, a response bubbled to my lips.
"You say that like it's a bad thing." As soon as I said it, I silently cursed myself. I wanted to eat the words, to take them back.
That stifled him. He grew profoundly silent. I wanted him to say something— anything.
I knew this was a stupid idea, and that I didn't belong here; weird feelings or no weird feelings, this was wrong.
We sat in silence. I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep myself from getting up and running if we locked gazes; I felt almost airborne at the moment, already.
"Ah…" He moved to rub his temples. I stayed quiet, wallowing in my own self pity for releasing something so significant.
"I suppose if we're looking at it 'logically'," aha, he was backpedaling. "Then staying here would be the safest thing." I groaned aloud this time.
I didn't want to know the logical answer, really. I wanted to know what he wanted.
"As you said, this stuff adds up in the long run, it's not just about me anymore. It's not bad for me, but you'd stuck with me in your home each and every day." I almost choked. "What about for you?"
He froze, I held my breath. "It wouldn't be bad for me either," He seemed extremely uncomfortable saying something like that; I kept my face directly parallel to the floor. "I mean, my dad and Em like you and all…Jas will adjust."
I didn't move an inch. I was waiting for the catch, the punch line, the contrast to the good, the 'but' every conversation had. I didn't want to shatter the illusion, as if, if I were to respond, he would pull the rug out from under my feet.
I couldn't fathom it, that everything had worked out. I had come out of this unscathed and with what I had secretly desired.
The only problem was I didn't know why I desired such a thing; it was irrational to want to stay here, but the qualities just beckon to me. The untamed forest, the thrill with every step, the complete lack of haughty sophistication, the sheer realness of it all.
"Okay." I just nodded, swallowing hard; he squeezed my hand in reassurance in one fast movement, then released it. My heart stopped for that one second. The world took on a much brighter outlook.
Soon after the conversation, Edward went into the kitchen to finish making whatever he was making, and I laid back. Completely at ease.
This was my home, I lived here now. It had a nice ring to it. I never would have believed I would live here, in this home. This side had enveloped me, I was attached to its good, and bad qualities. I was just happy I didn't have to hide here, in this particular place. Outside the house, sure, but not here.
I would miss Alice though; that was the only major setback. It pained me to think of what she was thinking right now. I wondered if she missed me as much as I missed her. My heart twisted at the thought of her, all by herself.
She can handle herself, I thought in an attempt to ease my guilt, she's strong willed.
This side wasn't as bad as the school had let on. In fact, it was dead wrong. Now I had to start planning, planning for what to do on this side. Possibly the rest of my life. I shuddered from nervousness. What exactly would take place for the rest of my life? Would my feelings wither away and die, or would they increase? I feared if they increased too much, I might explode.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the emotions— I couldn't think about this too much.
I sped to the bookcase, and took down a random book, hoping to distract myself. Not bothering with the cover, I flipped open the book, to a random page and began to read.
Confused, I traveled to the bottom of the page, which the title was written on; The Diaries of Adam and Eve by: Mark Twain. My whole inside was rocked; it was strange how I just came upon this. A very old story once told by the Crazies, however this was written much differently than the tale I'd heard.
As I continued to read, I travelled deeper and deeper into the world of Adam and Eve; they didn't fall in love right at the beginning. But over time, it just happened; not in one sweeping motion like the Crazies had let on. It had developed seamlessly over time. One part in particular caught my eye.
"When I look back, the Garden was a dream. It was beautiful, enchantingly beautiful. And now it is lost. And I shall not see it anymore. The garden is lost, but I have him. He loves me as well as he can. I love him with all the strength of my passionate nature.
If I ask myself why I love him, I find I do not know. I love certain birds because of their song. But I do not love Adam an account of his singing— no it is not that! The more he sings, the more I do not get reconciled with it. It is not on account of his gracious and considerate ways and his delicacy that I love him. No, he lacks in these regards. But he is well enough, and is improving.
It is not on account of his chivalry that I love him— not, it is not that. He told on me, but I do not blame him. It is a peculiarity of his sex, I think. And he did not make his sex. Of course, I would not have told on him. I would have perished first. But that is a peculiarity of my sex. And I do not take credit for it, for I did not make my sex… I think I love him merely because he is mine.
Adam: Ten Years Later: After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning. It is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside without her. At first, I thought she talked too much. But now I would be sorry to have that voice fall silent and pass out of my life. Blessed be the one that brought us together and taught me to know the goodness of her heart and the sweetness of her spirit.
Eve: Forty Years Later. It is my longing. It is my prayer, that we may pass from this life together. A longing which shall never perish from this earth, but shall have a place in the heart of every wife that loves, until the end of time. And it shall be called by my name. But if one of us must go first, it is my prayer that it shall be I. For life without him is not life. How could I endure it? This prayer is also immortal, and will not cease from being offered up as my race continues. I am the first wife, and in the last wife I shall be repeated.
Adam: At Eve's Grave. Wheresoever she was, there was Eden."
I shut the book in a quiet motion and placed it delicately back on the shelf, about to send myself into a heart attack from breathing so hard. That last line packed such a punch. I never dreamed a man would think that way—would have such depth of thought; that showed just how much I still needed to learn.
Wheresoever she was, there was Eden…
I feel I connected with Eve in a way I never would have been able to before coming to this side; it explained love as something different then what I've expected. Not just one big burst of absolute love, just slow infatuation.
Is that why I wanted to stay here? Adam and Eve were the first humans on this earth, their relationship was supposed to be perfect; but it is terribly flawed. Perhaps that was what makes it perfect?
Adam was not faultless; neither was Edward. Eve was not unblemished; nor I. What did this mean?
It is a peculiarity of his sex, I suppose there is some sort of balance between the male stereotype and individualism. All the men I've met are so different from each other; yet the same in a much larger way.
Every single time I think I have this side figured out, it grows extraordinarily more complicated.
Perhaps, I was feelings this way, purely because I am hanging around with men; a chemical reaction? No, that couldn't be it. With Edward, it was different than my relationship with Jasper, Emmett, Carlisle, even Jacob. Each relationship was as opposite as sun and moon.
I hadn't really known just how little I knew on the other side until actually seeing it; I might as well have lived in a cave my whole life.
Edward paraded back into the room, sandwich in hand, "I'm going to catch up with Jas and Em, see what kind of game they're playing." He mumbled, still chewing; I just nodded, wanting to laugh. He waved and ran out the door. I just sat there and stared after him for a minute before breaking into action.
I took out the journal and ran to a corner and began reading about my father's experience.
I wasn't positive how long I read, but some new information was uncovered.
He began describing the Volturi in close detail, now that he had gained enough of their trust; he was slowly learning their procedures, their ways.
I have formed the key part of the plan, it was tough to make, but I have finally done it; I had to pay a great deal of money to get it shipped out of here and where it belongs.
I wanted to smash something, for he was dancing around the point, teasing me about what it was.
I found out something awful today, a Volturi agent, if he is allowed, can choose a wife to take his position in the Core (the three leaders' most trusted advisors) when The Wall goes up. That is the sick requirement of the Core; if they deem him worthy, they will survey the women, and then the chosen woman will be stolen in the night. They would basically disappear from the world. For the purpose of creating an heir, for their position.
I cringed at the thought; I hoped that it wasn't like that today; that would be horrible for whichever unlucky woman was too desirable to some strange Volturi agent.
The Wall's purpose is much more devious and malicious than I originally predicted; I now believe it is to separate our genders. Such a crazy plan! The reason is now clear to me; the Volturi thirst for blood and power and with our genders separated, the passion to fight will be gone. Making it easy to conquer. Such a sadistically brilliant plan.
A tremble ran up my spine, and I felt as if I should crawl in a corner.
So, this was their reasoning for The Wall, I never truly started questioning The Wall and the Volturi before coming here. They separated us to alleviate the passion? I had noticed this earlier, but I never thought that it was on purpose. That it was the heart of their plan. It was true, I felt more alive over here than ever before in my life; was this passion? I never really understood passion until now.
I always knew the Volturi had something to do with The Wall, but this was just plain, evil. The Hawks were Volturi agents, surely, because Dad had described the Core as exclusive, and once you're in, you can never leave. You're trapped for life.
I was so grateful to him; he did everything his power to keep Mother and I out of this; I secretly wished I could see Mother one last time, to make sure she knows, that Dad loved her. Maybe then, she'd be just a little bit happier.
I never dreamed, never thought, a man could love me like I now know my Dad did; I had unconsciously soaked in everything I'd been taught on the other side. Love warmed my heart, I blissfully drowned in it. But along with that love, came misery. As I learned more about my father, the more I craved to know him; I felt as if I knew him. This pain is a new pain. A much more lethal and acute pain.
A few tears slipped from my eyes, and I brought my hand up and wiped them away numbly.
I yearned to show Edward this, wanting to know his opinion, but the voice burned every time the thought crossed my mind. I wondered what was so bad about showing him; he was someone I knew I could trust.
Edward stumbled into the house, and I hadn't thought anything of it.
Until I caught deep liquid red in the corner of my eye. His leg was bleeding like an endless waterfall! I struggled for breath and leapt up in a panicked motion.
"Okay, okay," I wheezed, holding my hands out, ready to catch him. "Um, put that under some water!" I gasped going under his arm to help him limp into the kitchen. He just gawked at me with an amused expression painted on his smug face.
"I'm fine. It's only a flesh wound." He laughed, as if it were nothing. That was a serious wound!
"But, but, your leg is…"
"Bleeding? Yes I noticed that only a few seconds ago." Rage burned within me; why was he brushing it off as nothing?
I growled. "Would you care to explain how you got that?" I released him roughly; he clung to the counter, chuckling slightly, but still a frazzled.
"Jas and Em play violently sometimes." He laughed; his eyes were distant; reminiscing.
"They could kill each other!" I shrieked, worriedly; then I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I'm getting too old for this, I thought to myself. "Look, can you at least try not to kill yourself next time?"
"Why?" He half sneered, but underlying curiosity lay in his voice. I spun around, with my fiery gaze, I began to stare him down; he shrank back like a scared puppy.
"Well I don't work in an oh so grand hospital," My eyes rolled so far they almost fell out. "I'm not good with broken people."
I placed my hand on my hip and stormed to go find something to clean his wound with; I may not have known much about heart murmurs, but I could disinfect a cut.
Upon returning, with all the right materials, he placed his leg over the sink, ready for me to clean it.
"Oh, so it's not my position to tell you not to play so rough, but of course, I'm perfectly fit to clean your wound for you." I accused, only half serious, throwing the supplies on the counter and let out a hard laugh. "Clean it yourself."
His eyes grew torn, he obviously didn't like that idea; I wondered why, he was a big boy, he could handle himself.
"What if I apologized?"
"It better be one nice apology." I turned my back to him, and crossed my arms over my chest; he groaned obnoxiously, as if it would actually hurt to apologize.
"I'm sorry, and I won't kill myself." He muttered vengefully; I looked over my shoulder, and read the label on the medicine. Alcohol, I grinned evilly to myself. This stuff stung so badly when you put it on a cut.
"Okay," I perked and turned back around. "I'll do it." He jerked a little bit, clearly shocked by my tremendous shift in mood.
I leaned forward, and locked eyes with him; he halted his motion to look at what I was doing. I smiled at him brightly, making sure my face held all of his attention. Cautiously I unscrewed the top of the Alcohol, and held it over his wound.
"Edward?" I asked in an unusually kind voice, and I leaned forward and stared into his eyes; his eyes glazed over with some unknown emotion.
"What?" He replied, in a dazed way; I passively wondered what that was about.
"This might sting just a little."
His eyebrows knit together in confusion for half a second, and before he had the time to process what was happening, I tilted my wrist and poured a big splash right on his wound. I watched, with a perfectly innocent smile on my face, as his expression went from confused to horrified.
"Ow!" He screeched; thrusting out his hands to block the liquid. I was composed on the outside, but on the inside, I was dying of laughter. He was seething through his teeth and muttering incoherently.
"Stop whining. Didn't you just say, 'I'm fine, it's only a fleshwound'?" He looked up at me with shock dominating his eyes.
"What—why would you—ow!" He was still gasping from the blow; I brought my hand up to my mouth and giggled behind it.
"Are you sure you still want me to clean it?" I questioned smugly, he shook his head spastically.
"No! You can go now." He motioned with his chin toward the living room; I had to grab my stomach I was laughing so hard, I trotted out of the kitchen happily. That was too good.
I could see my life more clearly, see things like this happening often, to contrast the serious times.
I sensed a light airy happiness in the room, although he was writhing in pain; maybe I could watch from a distance as he and his brothers played together. That would be an honor, to be let into this secret club they've formed together over the years of being together; to be a part of this family some day. Maybe Jasper would warm up to me eventually, I really hoped he would, he'd be like the protective older sibling. Emmett would be my equivalent of the loving brother I never had; and Edward…I couldn't see him as a brother. Not in anyway. What did this mean?
Watching Edward recover, I started to think; really think. He's already agreed to let me into his home, for some sense of permanence, against what we both thought in the beginning. Is it possible I wasn't alone in my feelings? Was it possible that he was feeling this way? Maybe if we both were, we could work on our problems. And one day, hopefully smother them enough so that they die.
Before I could think of that, I had to determine just exactly what my feelings were.
Edward could infuriate me sometimes, to the brink of my sanity to where I would take intense satisfaction in watching him fall off a cliff; but other times, I want nothing more than to be by his side, and for his wellness.
Plus Edward was right in one regard; I would miss my side, and Alice. Was it worth it?
"When I look back, the Garden is a dream. It was beautiful, enchantingly beautiful. And now it is lost. And I shall not see it anymore. The garden is lost, but I have him." Eve lost the entire Garden, and yet she was happy; with Adam; only Adam.
Did that mean… I could barely bring myself to say the words; even in my own mind. That was pretty pathetic.
Did I…love Edward?
At that moment, I felt like I had finally put my finger right on the thing I had been looking for; I had pointed out the thing I'd been searching for, the emotion I was trying to identify.
But come on, I thought hysterically to myself, it could be just a fondness, because he saved me, surely I don't love him! I didn't want to come out and say something that wasn't true; I might regret it later.
I couldn't...but I did…
What did I know about love anyway? For all I know I could be reading it wrong! I shouldn't go saying anything rash.
I mean, he was the first man I ever met, that seems like quite an uncanny coincidence that I would love the first man I saw. Yeah, that's probably it. I mused.
Maybe it was meant to be. Lo and behold, right on cue! The voice was here to tease and mock me in a time I'm most vulnerable.
For all I know I could feel this way about any man who found me and rescued me. I fought back.
Not every man would save you and let take you into their home and harbor absolutely no mal intents.
You phrase that like he's the only man who would, I'm sure Emmett would have.
But he didn't.
He could have.
But he didn't.
"Arg!" I growled, grabbing my hair, only to remember I had cut it all off; I sighed, disgruntled.
I was not in love; especially not with Edward.
"Hey," He came hobbling out of the kitchen, huffing as he hopped one foot; I saw he had wrapped his shirt around the slash. "Can you help me to the basement so I can find the bandages; without maiming me any further, please?"
My eyes travelled from his leg upward to his chest; the only other time I'd seen him shirtless was at that old man's house. But I had made sure I had only seen from his shoulders up. Now, it was all out there. It was much more muscular than a woman's.
I don't know why, but for whatever odd reason, I liked it. A lot.
Well, I gawked openly, that's a nice bonus; I shrugged casually to myself, before getting up to help him.
On second thought, maybe this whole love thing isn't so bad.
If mother nature is kind, then you will get the rest of the teaser! Anyway, what did you think of her discovering love? Eh?
Review for the rest of the teaser:
I stole one last glance at the house; the house that I thought would be my home, the house I once thought was heaven. Then, I spun around and pushed my legs toward the only direction I could think to go.
I ran toward The Wall.
My thoughts were in an emotional jumble— this was the last straw. I had been wrong about my father's death, for that was merely the teaser push toward the cliff. This, oh this, thrust me crudely off the cliff face.