I was in a meadow filled with wildflowers, a light breeze blowing around me. I saw him walking toward me, and my eyes filled with tears. He had almost reached me when I heard a shrill tone echoing. I looked around, my eyes searching for the source of the sound until I startled awake.
Just a dream. Edward wasn't really there; we weren't really in our meadow. The sound continued, and I realized that it was my landline ringing. Sitting up in bed, I grabbed the cordless phone from my bedside and looked at the readout: Unknown Number.
"Hello?" I could hear scratching on the line, like it's a bad connection.
There was a long pause before I finally heard, "Bella? Bella? Is that you? It's me, Edward."
I toke a shuddering breath. My husband disappeared ten years ago while running some errands. There was no note, no trace. His car was never found; they never tracked down his cellphone; it was like Edward had just vanished. I had been devastated; absolutely gutted.
But I survived, and I moved on. Plenty of scammers had tried this plot on me before. Claiming to be Edward, looking for money to "get home". It was heartbreaking and disgusting.
"You're not Edward." My voice was firm, calm. "I know you're not Edward."
"Bella, please, it's me. Your husband." I could hear the scratching again.
"Please, don't call here again," I said before hanging up the phone.
Laying back against the headboard, I shook my head. It had been a long time since someone had tried to pull this kind of crap on me. But I knew the truth, Edward would never come back. Eventually, I fell back to sleep, but I didn't remember any more dreams.
The calls continued over the next several days. Always the same: the scratching noises, the long pauses. A man's voice claiming to be Edward.
"Bella? Bella? Is that you? It's me, Edward."
"Bella, please, it's me. Your husband."
Every call, I told them not to call me back. Just last night, I threatened to involve the police if they called back again.
I had stopped by the grocery store after work and was entering the house through the garage with my work bag and several shopping bags when the phone started ringing. I wasn't thinking about the previous calls when I rushed to grab it, dropping bags as I went.
Breathlessly, I answered. "Hello?" There was a long pause, and then some scratching. "Who's there?" I pulled the handset away briefly to look at the readout only to find Unknown Number yet again.
"Bella? Bella? Is that you? It's me, Edward," the man's voice on the other end of line claimed yet again, but I knew better. It wasn't Edward. Edward had never been found.
"I told you I would call the police if you called here again."
"Bella, please, it's me. Your husband."
"You're not Edward; it's impossible. Why are you doing this? It's been ten years since my husband disappeared. What do you want from me?"
For a moment, the man on the other end of the line didn't respond, and I thought that maybe the call dropped until I heard his voice once more. "Bella, please. It's me, your husband Edward."
I'd had enough. "Do not call this number again." I hung up the phone.
The following day, my friend Rosalie came over to help me clear out some junk and decided, if I was ready, to take some of the photos of Edward down. I still had every photo of him, of us. She had been my maid of honor and was my best friend.
We were about to take a break for lunch, and Rose was paying the delivery boy for our pizza when I found myself staring at my wedding photo of me and Edward. We're gazing at each other, and he looks so incredibly handsome. I remember feeling so lucky that he had shown any interest in me.
He had been the most popular, the smartest, the cutest boy in our high school. When we ran into each other in college, it was like meeting him again for the first time. Hometown boy made good and he wanted me. He was beloved by all he knew, and when he disappeared, everyone searched for him.
As I was lost in thought about how lucky I was, Rose called my name as the phone was ringing once again. Snatching it up, I didn't even think about the previous intruding calls.
I heard the same scratching sound. "Hello? I told you not to call this number again." It was undoubtedly the same man.
"Bella? Bella? Is that you? It's me, Edward."
"I know you aren't Edward. Please, stop calling me." Slamming the phone back onto the cradle, Rose stared at me with concern.
"Is everything okay? You said Edward."
I tried to shrug her off. "It was just a prank caller pretending to be Edward." Rolling my eyes as I brushed past her into the kitchen. "I think I have to change my number."
"Pretending to be Edward?" Rose repeated after me, following me. "Have you told anyone about this? Have you told the police?"
"No. I'm not bothering them with this. Someone is just pranking me, and then they'll get bored." I shut down the conversation, not wanting to discuss it anymore and reliving my traumatic past.
I woke up the next day not expecting any more phone calls from the unknown number. I made it clear that I wouldn't be playing games with whoever was calling. I didn't realize how wrong I was.
While I was making breakfast, the phone began ringing again, and my blood ran cold. When I answered the phone, I heard the same scratching sound followed by that long pause before I finally heard my name. "Bella? Bella? Is that you? It's me, Edward."
I didn't say anything at first. I took a moment to really listen to the voice. It didn't sound anything like Edward; too gravelly, too rough.
"Bella, please, it's me. Your husband."
"I'm going to call the police. I don't have any money; call somebody else." I screamed before hanging up.
I prayed whoever this was calling me would finally leave me alone.
That night after dinner while the sleet came down, and I rested on the couch reading a book, the phone began to ring close to midnight. The cordless handset was on the side table near me, and I considered just letting it ring. I didn't have an answering machine anymore, and first thing tomorrow, I'd cancel the landline.
Frustrated that the ringing wasn't stopping, I grabbed the phone and answered, confrontational right away. "I'm recording this call on my cell, and then I'm calling the police. You're harassing me. What do you want?"
I heard that telltale scratching again, but now it sent shivers down my spine, causing me to shudder. It echoed all around me as I heard his voice again. "Bella? Bella? Is that you? It's me, Edward."
"You're a liar! You're not Edward!"
"Bella, please, it's me. Your husband."
I slammed the phone down, panting. I knew that man wasn't Edward. My Edward … Edward Cullen was dead. I killed him ten years ago. I looked at the clock and saw it was past midnight. Ten years ago today.
Edward, who I had loved from afar for years, and who had finally seen me, loved me, and married me … had been cheating on me. He was planning to leave me. I couldn't let that happen. So, I killed him.
I made up an elaborate lie to the police about him leaving to run some errands. That lie made it to the national news. I got away with it for a year. Then another year passed, and another. I wasn't even a suspect. His mistress was, but never me.
I tried to slow my breathing and picked up my book when I heard the scratching again, but this time from the front window, followed by a knocking.
Knock
Knock
Knock
And then the sound of the window opening.
"Bella? Bella? Is that you? It's me, Edward."
