The decision had been set.

Their decision. Not hers.

The mysterious destiny that awaited her future was snatched from her like a child from its cradle. Her only freedom dissolving with the rain, as it splatters onto the cold uncaring ground, disappearing from the face of the earth for all time.

She was in a glass box.

Her life being lived for her.

She spent the first 2 years of every Saturday of her newly acquired adult life under the strict tutelage of Mrs Mae Josephina Robinson.

She was a force to be reckoned with.

The seemingly docile yet giddy woman was as tenacious as a mountain lion. She was short and stout in stature with large green cat-like eyes that missed nothing.

Her first year under Mrs Robinson's tutoring felt like the battle of Troy.

Mrs Robinson started with the basics such as, poise and music.

Esme hated it.

She didn't quite like being told how to walk, when to walk, and how to position your shoulders when you walk.

And good gracious, when she sat down during tea and Mrs Robinson saw that she wore no stockings, had a fit that lasted for an hour which reminded Esme of the volcano Mt. Vesuvius that vomited lava onto the defenceless town of Pompeii, as it burned everything in its path, burying Pompeii in a blanket of volcanic ash.

For goodness sake.

I feel like I'm walking a tightrope between a hailstorm and jagged rocks.

How could you possibly win?

The worst was yet to come.

As the year progressed, Mrs Robinson introduced her to music which meant, playing the piano.

Heaven have mercy on the child that was being taught by a neurotic perfectionist with a thick wooden ruler.

By the time her lessons were even halfway done. Her fingers and knuckles would be covered with bruises.

She would sit there and play the piano with the best of her ability and would bite her bottom lip in anticipation to the beating her fingers would take at the slightest slur of the melody or finger.

She would even wonder during the long nights in her bed, how she managed to get through every single day with that woman, mentally unscathed.

Her lovely chains which consisted of embroidered silk napkins, white gloves and silk stockings, afternoon tea and the endless ocean of mundane books and the dismal lessons meticulously laid out for her. All her longings of freedom were denied.

In the arms of a stranger, she could not escape.

She was slowly being dragged lower and deeper into the earth.

The faces she saw every day. Empty yet alive. Talking in words she could not understand, her ears straining to comprehend.

Their breath as they spoke, smelled of stale mint and teeth filled with crumbling pastries.

She felt like she was like some ragged doll that they would play with as they dressed her up and dressed her down and passed her on to the next child that wanted to play with her.

They were the giants she had feared as a child.

Domineering and enticing, with their warm smiles feigning reassurance as she is lured into their web of cotton and pearls.

Asking her with benign eyes to stay in the web forever.

They looked at her from outside her glass box. Making assumptions and conclusions. Deciding what herfate would be.

There was no way back.

The days were dreary and long.

The nights seem to drag on endlessly into the dark recesses of space.

Another 2 more years pass.

Precious time melting away like ice in the sun.

The final preparations have been made.

The date had been set.

This was the point of no return, as her sentence is made.

Charles had present Esme with her official engagement ring the year she turned 22.

It had been past 5 in the afternoon.

He was visiting her home that day.

They were scattered across the large cream coloured living room area. The day outside was gloomy and sullen.

The moment he opened the box, Esme could hear her mother and Mrs Robinson squeal as they rushed over to her nearly spilling the teapot on the way to coo at the ring. She watched silently as her father approach Charles with a large smile and playfully patted him on the back.

She stood there, frozen and detached.

A wan smile on her face, as he slipped the ring on her finger. He didn't even bother ask why she was so silent the whole week, none of them did.

She stared at it for a long time, as Charles placed an impersonal kiss on her cheek.

The ring had been set in platinum with a single pea-sized diamond in the center, it glistened slightly as she turned it from side to side, the rays of light from the stone reflecting in her solemn brown eyes. The reality of her situation was setting in. The ring seemed to be a sign of the dreaded wedding she was to have.

She found herself being dragged onto the plush velvet couch as her mother handed her a glass of champagne.

She watched the scene playing out in front of her indifferently. An observer rather than a participant.

Her father happily opening a fresh new bottle of wine as he chatted jovially with Charles.

Esme's eyes travelled to the left corner of the room.

The loud boisterous laughter of her Mother and Mrs Robinson as they talked out the details of her wedding.

It might as well be their wedding.

She sunk back into her seat as her eyes narrowed onto the deep mahogany wooden floor.

She could hear the clinking of the champagne glass against her ring in her finger. She found herself gripping the glass quite harshly.

The voices in the room seemed to grow louder by the second.

And the words seemed nothing to contain but one all-consuming syllable.

Wedding.

She wanted to scream.

Finally after what seemed like hours of drinking and gaudy descriptions of how the wedding would be, the day came to a close.

She didn't bother to say goodnight to anyone nor did she bother to excuse herself. She just quietly slipped out of the living room, unnoticed.

She knew her mother would cough up a reasonable excuse anyway, that was sweetly smothered in powdered sugar and icing.

It was only past 7, but she was exhausted.

She closed the door of her room quietly.

Her room was quite dark due to the storm clouds that had been building outside.

She walked deftly to her nightstand and lighted the oil lamp, which provided a hazed silhouette of her room, illuminating the dark corners of the cavernous walls and ceilings. She didn't want all the lights turned on in her room, she just couldn't be bothered with people at the moment. She wanted to be alone.

She quietly undressed, the murky light catching only vague traces of the soft contours that outlined her delicate hips as she changed into her nightgown.

She untangled her hair from the accursed bun that she was forced to tie it into.

She shook her hair free as the waves of caramel locks frame her lovely face.

She lay on her bed and curled up close to her nightstand table as her eyes found their way into the yellow light, dancing as they reflected into her brown eyes, her companion in the embrace of darkness.

Her soft hands found their way underneath her pillow as she slid out the handkerchief from its hiding place.

Her gentle fingers twirling the ends of the soft cloth.

Carlislewas never too far from her mind.

How could she even begin to forget the man whose face haunts her dreams ever so tenderly?

If only I could see him again. . .

She held his handkerchief closer to her chest as she closed her eyes.

It was a long while before she could fall into a peaceful slumber, her mind, restless as the sea.

It was the dead of night, the stars shining in dark abyss above.

His unbeating heart in intoxicating pain, knowing this well may be the last time he can see her again.

That lovely face with the blush of roses, in which his hands so longed to touch.

He had fought valiantly over the years, keeping a hidden distance in the secrecy of night.

On a secluded hill a few yards from Esme's home, a man was standing there. His face covered by the shadows, as the moon's haunting light traced the outlines of his golden eyes.

They say the mind is a powerful thing, and that even if the person is asleep, the mind is wide awake.

She was walking that fine line between asleep and awake.

Her body and conscious mind were sleeping. But another part of her was awake, dormant within her subconscious.

She stirred in her eiderdown as a cold wind brushed past her.

She could smell a familiar yet faint scent.

It smelled like something of cinnamon laced with another tantalizing smell that she could not put a name to.

The room had grown completely still.

Faint footsteps could be heard, faintly creaking the floorboards every so often as the sounds grew nearer.

He had to see her once more.

He was not ignorant as to what lay in store of her.

He knew exactly what hand fate had dealt her with.

Yet he could not bear to leave her in peace without seeing that face to which his soul aches for. That face which pierced his still heart so sweetly.

Her breath stopped for a moment.

She could feel the right side of her bed give weight to someone sitting there.

Her eyes were slowly moving left to right. She was fighting to wake up but sleep held her firmly by the wrist.

She could feel something cold yet soft brush her cheek ever so gently.

He whispered something in her ear in a voice so tender and barely above a whisper.

He could see in the light illuminated from her lamp as her eyebrows knitted together in distress.

Even in slumber, pain seemed to cross her lovely features as a tear escaped the corner of her eyes.

He shook his head as he took in a breath. The sweet scent of her hair brushing delicately against his nose. He was fighting to keep his resolve as he whispered something to her once more, as he ran a gentle thumb across her cheek.

He had to say the words. The words to which were spoken from the lips of his very soul.

The tension within her melted away at the sound of his voice but was replaced with the wrenching desire of longing at his words.

A feeling he knew all too well.

He had to leave. If he stayed too long, he knew he could no longer fight with himself. With the desire that was beating, screaming from within his soul.

He looked at her once more. Looking like a mere child in all its innocence, wrapped in a gossamer blanket of a woman's heart.

He gently took her hand, and untangled it from the handkerchief that once belonged to him.

Tenderly raising her soft fingers to the concaves of his delicate lips as he kissed them.

He closed his eyes as the warmth of her skin radiated onto his lips.

If only surrender could be so sweet.

If only, the world wasn't against, both of them.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm so super sorry for the semi-late update haha! I got whisked away by my Grandad to the beach this morning. But anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter :) Keep em' reviews coming! Thank you all again for reading :) God Bless :) Oh and here's a little treat for you guys out there. As I said before a couple chapters back, I don't give out hints as to what the next chapter may contain. But at least the emotional feel of it I can elaborate a bit, BUT only a little bit :) I suggest you guys check out the song Thinking Of You By Katy Perry. Pay close attention to the ending and the lyrics, it's like super heart-wrenching. Got choked up a bit listening to it, haha. Sorry for the long blab XD Enjoy! stay tuned for chapter 9 :)

Oh and to a question a reviewer asked me, yes, Charles is Esme's fiancee sad to say D:and Thank you very much again for your kind words, efharisto XD that's the only greek word I know, that and kalimera haha!

Oh and If you guys are wondering what Carlisle whispered. I suggest you read the title AFTER you finish reading. XD