2nd Place – AT THE GATES OF HEAVEN

By: Scream It Loud

Contest Host Review:

This interpretation of Emmett's transformation was truly superb. I have not encountered many fanfics from Emmett's POV, let alone well written ones, but Scream It Loud really made Emmett's true down-to-earth goodness shine through without making him look like a brainless idiot (unlike some other fics on this site, cough). But anyway, it was wonderfully written. Emmett's perception of events, the description…it was all pulled together so wonderfully!

Congratulations Scream It Loud!!!

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At the Gates of Heaven

By: Scream It Loud

Summary: This is my story of Emmett's transformation, explaining what I think his human life might've been like all the way to his first sight of Carlisle (or God). If you haven't read the Twilight outtakes on Stephenie Meyer's site--namely "Emmett and the Bear"--then you'll be entirely lost. If you have, then points to you! Enjoy!

He wasn't sure how long he'd been hiking, or where this trial even led. He was just happy to get out of the house. The arguing was becoming too much: He made the decision four years ago to drop out of high school, but his parents—mainly his dad—still haven't gotten over it. Now being twenty-two, it's too late to go back, even if he wanted to. Public education never held much interest for him—he always knew there was more to learn than what was written in the text books at any school in the country.

But his parents thought differently.

His dad, a factory worker like his dad and his dad's dad, thought that his only son would be the one to break the pattern, be the only man in the family to actually make something of himself. His son would go to college, become a lawyer, and then a great politician, bringing dignity back into the family name.

But he never anticipated having a son like this one.

His son dropped of high school his senior year, spending the next four years of his life working at the local grocery store, still living at home. Where did he go wrong? Where did he fail as a father?

But the one truth that his son would never tell him was that he was needed at home. With his father working all day at the factory, someone needed to stay home and help his mother take care of his three-month-old twin sisters. They didn't live near any of his mother's family and she didn't have any friends in the neighborhood to help her, so she relied on her son to help.

Though he was always willing to help his mom, he would never tell his dad that he was doing woman's work. He was already always yelled at for not making a better man of himself, he didn't need this on top of it.

Which was why he wanted out of the house.

He went on trips like these often, but it wasn't always hiking. Sometimes he'll catch some of the high school boys playing football down the block and he'd join them; other times he would just go outside and run, not sure of his destination, just wanting a long journey.

Today, his escape was hiking. He woke up this morning before the sun did, putting on his hiking boots he bought the day before, packing a day's worth of food in a large red backpack he found in the hall closet, then leaving a note, telling his mom not to worry. He was sure his dad wouldn't even care.

Now it was noon , if not later, and he had no idea where he was. But that didn't matter. Maybe this was his way out, his way out of the hole he dug for himself, his way out of his father's ridicule.

Then he heard a rustling to his left, and it stopped his feet and thoughts cold.

He turned slowly to the source of the sound, bracing himself for what he might see, but the uncountable large bushes were perfectly still. For a fleeting second, he wondered if maybe someone was hiding behind them, trying to scare him. But that wasn't possible—no one would come up here. He was the only one brave enough (some would say stupid enough) to come up here alone.

So the thing here wasn't a person.

As he watched the bushes, they stood just as still as they were before, but he knew he didn't imagine what he heard—there was something in those bushes.

Slowly, he bent down, keeping his eyes on the bushes, to pick up a rock that was lying by his foot. Being as quiet as he could, he threw the rock at the bush, trying to stir whatever was hiding.

He immediately regretted that decision.

The bushes shook again, more violently this time. Still kneeling on the ground, he froze instantly, watching as a large brown grizzly bear immerged, growling fiercely.

All thoughts fled from his mind for a split second, until he finally understood what was going on: he was being attacked.

The bear looked around for a moment, confused as to what disturbed him. Then his eyes locked on a dark figure close to the ground, obviously afraid and weaker than he. Not a difficult prey.

Just as the bear threw a paw at him, he jumped backwards, trying to get out of the way. He didn't completely succeed—he had a huge gash down his left side from the dangerously sharp claws.

He stood up instantly, bracing himself for a fight. He knew he would never win, but he wasn't going to die easily. The bear lowered itself back down on all fours, swaying as it progressed to its lunch. Once it was close enough, it jumped to its back legs, roaring madly. It took another swipe at the man in front of him, this time getting his face, causing him to yell out in pain and stagger backwards, holding his face, swearing.

The bear was done playing with its food—it has had nothing to eat for two days and this slab of meat in front of him was too tempting.

The bear lunged for him, taking him down easily. Mustering all the strength he could, he pulled his arms up and tried to push the furry weight off of him, fighting back. The bear retaliated by swiping at him again, causing blood to seep from his nose to his mouth.

The bear bit his arm, taking a chunk of the skin and muscle out, and more crimson blood spilled.

He knew he wouldn't live much longer—he was losing too much blood. Wasn't there something in the paper a couple weeks ago about bear attacks? They were just coming out of hibernation, so they were much more irritable. No sane person would cross paths with one. But no one had ever called him sane, so he didn't count that. But there was something in the article about the death rate of bear attacks—the statistics of living in this situation didn't agree with him.

He was never one to abide by numbers, but he couldn't ignore them. Knowing that he was going to die inevitably, he shut down all of his defenses and waited for death, hoping it would come quickly.

Somewhere in his subconscious, he realized that he had left a note for his mother, saying he would come home fine. When they find his body—or what was left of it—it would definitely show that he was far from fine. He felt guilty for telling his mom he would come back to her and his sisters safely when he couldn't guarantee it.

But then he realized that this was his way out he asked for, prayed for. He never really thought of himself as a Christian, but he did know there was a higher power up there somewhere. And, whoever it was, they listened to him. They didn't give him the escape he had in mind, but it was as good as gold to him. No matter how it went, he knew that the regret for his choices would be over, and he would be in a better place.

But what if he didn't go to a better place? Surely, whatever it was out there, they would have mercy on a dying man.

Suddenly, the weight was off of him, and he felt the ground leave his back. He forced his eyes open groggily, trying to figure out what was happening. He realized there were arms under him, supporting him, but they didn't feel like arms—they felt more like ice. He turned his head ever so slightly, seeing as that was as much he could move it anyway, and looked over to the person beside him.

If his heart was strong enough to pump blood at all after his last excursion, it would definitely stop at the sight of this woman.

She was tall, with long legs and long, golden blonde hair. Her pale skin and beautiful features showed that she wasn't human—wasn't from this planet. She was, without a doubt, an angel. Maybe he was going to a better place, after all . . .

She looked into his eyes, her honey-gold irises soft and caring, but still concerned. She wiped his blood-stained hair out of his face, then looked him over, trying to decide the best way to carry him. She settled on holding him around the waist, throwing his arms and head over her shoulder. She wondered momentarily if this would hurt him, then realized that he would be too unconscious to notice it, anyway.

She watched his eyes as they slowly drifted shut, giving up. She had to get him where he was going, fast.

Running impossibly fast, she took him off the trail and through the woods, up through the mountains until she came upon who she was looking for: her family.

"Rosalie—," the bronze-haired angel asked.

"Not now, Edward." She looked to the blonde angel, setting the dark haired man on the ground. "Can you help him?"

The blonde angel was astonished. "Who is he?"

"Can you help him?" she repeated. "There's not much time."

The blonde angel placed his cold hand upon the dying man's face, causing him to stir slightly, then groan with the pain and exertion.

He opened his dark eyes slowly, the bright afternoon sun blinding him. Then he locked eyes with the blonde angel.

"What's your name, son?" he asked.

This man had features just as beautiful as the woman that brought him here. As he looked around he saw another woman and a man, both pale and beautiful. A flair of hope sparked up in his heart. These people were angels, ready to take him in. He looked back into the blonde man's golden eyes, how the sun behind him caught his hair, making him look even more extraordinary. With a start, they dying man realized that this angel in front of him was the God everyone talked about. He truly was a God of mercy.

"Emmett Wh—," he was cut short because of the sudden pain on his side. He closed his eyes, then realized that someone had put some liquid in his wounds, cleaning them. What kind of heaven was this?

"I'm sorry," God said. "This will be over soon."

"Rose, give him some room," the bronze-haired angel said to Emmett's savior.

"I can't let him die," she responded, defiance in her tone.

Die? He was going to die? He guessed that was how he got to where he was going, but she made it sound like a bad thing. Where was he now?

God looked back at Rosalie. "Then what do you want to do?"

Her face was stone, but a flicker of indecision crossed her eyes. She nodded slightly to herself, making up her mind.

"I'll love him. I know I will."

"How can you possibly know this?" the bronze-haired angel—Edward—asked, exasperated.

"I already think I love him. I can't help it," she said, staring into Emmett's face as the blood fled from it. "He cannot die," she said to God.

"Okay," He said, stepping out of the way. He motioned for Rosalie to do the honors.

Her face showed her fear plainly.

"I can't do it," she said, cowering.

"Rose, he has to live," the other, shorter angel said. Her face was kind, but her eyes showed her anxiety for this situation.

"I'm afraid he won't if I do it. I was barely able to bring him up here," she said in a small voice.

God studied her face. "I'll do it," He said bravely.

God and Rosalie bent down beside the dying man on the rocky surface, Rosalie smoothing his matted hair, God bracing himself for what he was planning to do.

"Make it quick, please," Rosalie pleaded. "I don't want to see him in any more pain."

God looked at Rosalie. "He will be in pain."

God's cold hands gripped Emmett's shoulder and head firmly, holding him in place. He knew he would thrash once he finished.

As quickly as He could—but still efficiently—He closed His teeth on Emmett's neck.

Emmett's eyes opened in a flash.

Suddenly hyperaware of everything that was happening, he made note of the raging fire burning through his veins. How could this possibly be heaven? There was no joy in this.

There had to be good in it. He knew he wasn't the perfect person, but he didn't deserve this fate, no one did.

The fire inside of him caused him to shake uncontrollably, flailing his arms and legs all around him. He tried desperately to hold himself still, to not use his last store of energy, but it was too difficult. He let his body do what it may, no matter how painful.

No, this wasn't heaven. It was hell. There was no way to change it now. He would deal with the consequences now, and only hope no one else would do what he did to deserve this.

He was apparently voicing his pain, because a soothing soprano voice said, "Shh, shh. It's okay. You'll be okay."

Was she lying? How could he be okay after this? It made no sense. It was impossible. This torture showed what horrible things awaited him, how much worse they could get.

"I promise. It's okay."

He opened his eyes to glare at whoever was lying to him, but he instead locked eyes with the blonde-haired angel that saved him. What was stopping her from saving him now?

Her cold hand stroked his cheek, now burning from the venom in his veins. "This will all be over. I promise. We will be together. I will take care of you."

He had no reason to trust her, but he had no reason to doubt her, either. He decided to take her word and endure this torture as quietly as he could. He would, no matter how long it lasted or where he ended up, whether it was heaven or hell. If it was heaven, he knew that any angel as beautiful as his one would be there, and he would meet her again; if it was hell, then he knew he could endure it. He could endure anything as long as he had this angel at his side.

--END--

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