Chapter 4: "The Bridge"
Disclaimer: The proprietary elements of Breaking Dawn, including its original treatment and all of the characters, belong solely to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
Edward's POV
The erratic beating of her weakened heart was more than I could bear. The rhythmic sound to which I had grown accustomed was not the same. That constant, metrical beat against which I measured the tempo of my existence was altered somehow—syncopated and unreliable. I didn't like it. Combined with the irregular rasps that mercilessly marked the pace of her labored breathing, the cacophony of sporadic sound in the stillness of the room was dissonant and wrong. In desperation, I clung to her, pulling her even more tightly to my chest. Helpless to ease her suffering (again), I did all that I could to resist spiraling towards insanity myself. I didn't know whether or not she could hear me, but I hummed her melody, rocking her near lifeless body back and forth. My trembling voice was barely a whisper at first, then the notes became louder—as if the tenuous melody (which had once represented all I cherished about her humanity) could drown out the fateful dirge ringing in my ears now. Too late. Bella was dying in my arms and there was nothing I could do to save her. That sobering realization brought me to the brink, and I buried my face in her hair. I was losing her—and inevitably losing part of myself. Then suddenly, there was nothing. Nothing. No writing on the score but rests—and in the resulting silence there was no peace whatsoever. Only panic. Stunned, I waited. Waited and waited and waited for the first, uncertain notes of the new concerto.