I do not own or make profit off of Twilight. All right's belong to it's author Stephanie Meyer
HELLO! I'm sorry about leaving you with this that last cliffhanger, based on reviews and messages I've been sent, you guys are REALLY, REALLY mad at me and I'M SORRY! My spark for this story is starting to fade a bit so I wanted to take a few days to regain my love for this story but THENNN...Funny story, my power went out. So I went around my my room lighting some nice candles, only to have one break. I carefully picked it up, and on my way to the kitchen sink it actually exploded in my hands and proceeded to leave me with 3rd degree burns. Typing was quite painful for about a full week, but things are healing up nicely and I back to writing and editing. There won't be an update this Sunday as it is a holiday, but I will be back in full, come April and you can expect a chapter every Sunday in April and May! Have a happy March and I will see you next month!
What Are You Saying?!
I scream. I scream until my throat hurts, and then I scream until my vision blurs, and then I scream until I can't anymore. My body is physically exhausted and I can do nothing, but lay there and do nothing, surrounded by nothing. The bright white hurts my eyes, so I close them and wait...wait for what, I don't know. Maybe to sleep, what else can I do? There's nothing around me...Carlisle...Esme...Edward...Rosalie...Alice...Emmett...and Jasper... they're gone...but were they even there to begin with? I sat on a curb on spring night after my mother almost killed me and then woke up in rainy Washington state in November, only to find out Forks is real and so are all the characters in the Twilight book in my backpack, but that's not possible.
I feel the tears begin to well and unlike these last few weeks I don't try to hide them or blink them away, I let them fall. I curl into myself on my side, trying to make myself as small as possible, and then when I can't curl into myself anymore I hold it until every muscle in my body cries out and I have to let go. I don't know how much time has passed, it could be hours, but it also could be only minutes, There is no way to tell and theirs nothing to do. I start scratching at my arms, if I can break skin...if I can bleed maybe something will happen, I scratch and I scratch till it burns and then it hurts, and then finally small beads of blood seep through the surface of my raw skin. It's not long scratches like I want, but it's enough and I stop. I look around, but still there's nothing, I squeeze my arm holding it over the white ground waiting for it to drip and finally when it does bright red splatters on the pristine white ground...that's it...am I stuck in a bright white forever? Did I just ruin my skin for nothing? I throw my hands over my ears and scream...but I can't, my throat too raw, my vocal cords too used... I fall to the ground, now on all fours, and pound, beating my fists as small red droplets splatter everywhere.
NO, I have to calm down, I have to relax, this is getting me nowhere. I've screamed and cried, and bled, and nothing. Instead, I sit, close my eyes, and breathe, in and out. Carlisle's taught me a few breathing tricks, up through the bottoms of my feet, let it travel, feel it moving upward, into the stomach, now the lungs, up my body until I have to release it, then do it again. Over and over until my breathing is back, even and steady, then I open my eyes, and the bright white is dimmer. Okay, so do it again, and again, and again.
The next time I open my eyes, the bright white starts to become hazy, as shapes and colors begin to mingle, and with each blink I can almost make out things...and then theirs sound. The piercing sound of silence begins to lessen and somewhere far, far off...someone's talking. I sit and get to my feet ignoring the red chapped skin on my arms and look around,
"Hello." I rasp out, all though it barely comes out, my throat so raw it hurts. The sound gets louder and louder, until...it's clear. I blink and turn towards the sound, finding...a room...it's crowded, it looks like a church...but it can't be. Other than the rows and rows of seating theirs two desks at the very front and a larger one in the middle. Wait..this is a courtroom. I've never been in one, but this looks like a more modern version of the courtrooms in Law and Order SVU, I like that show. This room seems more modern than the ones Bensen and Stabler sit in...it's more crowded too and there's...cameras. All pointing at the two desks in front.
"Hello?" I ask again. I can't keep talking, it hurts too much, but it doesn't seem to matter because the people closest to me, don't answer, in fact even though I'm the only one standing no one looks my way... No one can see me. Where am I? Am I still in Forks...am I back in New York? I look at where the cameras are pointing and start taking careful tentative steps toward where they're filmiing, and then I stop.
"Mom?" She sitting at one of the two large desks in front on the left. She looks...good...sober. She's in a black pantsuit with a cream-colored button top underneath. Her mid-length blonde hair is pulled back in gentle swoops. Her face lightly powdered and her eyes clear. I feel the tears in my eyes and my knees almost give out. She looks good, she looks like my mom. Oh god I want to hug her, embrace her, cry into her shoulder, and tell her how much I missed her, but I can't move my legs, it feels like my feet are glued down. I turn to the man sitting next to her, he's wearing an expensive suit..maybe Armani. It's tailored to him...my grandfather used to wear the same ones...years ago. His light brown hair is gelled back and he has a nice pair of glasses lightly sitting on his nose,
"Mom please," I say louder ignoring the burning in my used vocal cords. When she doesn't look my way I say it louder and louder until I can't. It's all for nothing, she doesn't even twitch or blink. I try moving again, grunting and pulling until I stumble forward hitting the desk. I felt that, I hit it again. I can bump the desk but..I can't. My movements don't do anything, they let me feel it but the papers on the desk don't move, they don't even look disturbed and when I reach forward to grab them they fall right through my hands. What is this?!
"Sarah." The man next to her says grabbing her attention. She blinks once, twice, and then turns towards him, "You look lost, I really need you to pay attention and be ready." She looks away from him,
"I'm sorry." She mumbles, "This is a lot." He nods,
"I understand, but if you don't want to face life, you need to be ready."
"I am." She turns towards him, an angry scowl on her lips. He nods and reaches down grabbing a briefcase and flipping it open,
"I only work as hard as you do, remember that." She doesn't say anything, instead, she looks down at her nails. As long as I can remember my mother has always gotten her nails done every other Friday. She would go after work and before hitting up the liquor store. She once told me it was the only thing that made her feel pretty anymore, then she downed a whole bottle of peach snappps and never brought it up again, though I always noticed. She's never veered from the same manicure, a mid-length square shape with light pink polish. I'll never forget the one night when she caught me staring. I think was 11 she was right between drunk and too drunk to function when she turned toward me, her eyes unfocused and lost.
"Always keep your nails long enough so you can scratch, that's evidence you know. Not that I did anything with it."
She drank so much that night I was afraid she wouldn't wake up in the morning, but right now...There short and bare...
"Mom?" She looks up suddenly and quickly I place both my hands on the desk, "Can you hear me?"
"All rise," A man dressed like a police officer enters the room through a door on the right next to the large platform. His voice is booming, if I wasn't already standing I too would get to my feet, just as everyone around me is. A man dressed in a long black robe enters through the same door and quickly steps up onto the large platform. He bows his head to both desks, and the man sitting next to my mother dips his head low. I turn toward the man and woman on the other side, they do the same. This must be a judge..this is a courtroom. The judge in front takes a seat and then the man with the booming voice steps forward,
"Courts now in session, please be seated." I watch everyone lower themselves into their chair or bench... There is nowhere for me to sit, but then again no one sees me either.
"Hello everyone my name is Justice Herman, if the council could please introduce themselves." The woman on the left stands, she's wearing a dark plum matching set, complete with a pencil skirt and blazer.
"Good morning your honor, my name is Cole, first initial D and this is my colleague from the prosecution Baker first initial G." She points to a man in a dark grey suit. The difference with both of these people's clothing is that they're nowhere near as nice as the man my mothers sitting next to. His clothing was clearly picked out and made for him, keeping in mind his hair and eye color, these two bought their clothes from a department store and they probably cost a pretty penny, but it's nothing compared to designer.
"Good morning your honor, my name is Schuyler, first initial G and this is my colleague for the defense, Braun first initial S"
"Good morning everyone, and Ms. Callahan you're currently here and present?" The judge turns to my mother, who stands quickly and then sits back down.
"Good morning ma'am."
"Are there any issues the council wishes to raise before we get started?"
"No, your Honor,"
"No, your Honor."
"Alright today's preceding will include the petition filed on be have of Ms. Callahan and her defense team on the cessation of life support, Mr. Cole would you like to start with opening statements." The what? What is going on? What is my mother doing, why is she here?
"Yes your honor, we the Prosecution believe Ms. Callahan's rights to medical decisions should be nullified based on her current legal predicament that her future, currently resides on the child's survival, and today we are here to prove the cessation of life support is truly in the childs best interests." The woman glances towards my mom, before turning back to the judge, "Ms. Callahan is currently facing charges of DUI and vehicular assault. As long as the child remains alive she can not be charged with vehicular manslaughter as she should be based on the victim's current physical and mental status."
"Thank you, Mrs. Cole, defense, your statement."
"Thank you, your honor. Our goal for today based on our petition is to allow Ms. Callahan the basic rights that she deserves as her parental right to her own child, as it seems she is the only one willing to fight for the ethical right to give the child time to recover. The charges my client is currently facing have nothing to do with her decision to keep her own child alive." Alive?!
"Ms. Callahan" The judge looks directly at my mother, "You have filed and made this decision of your own free will and volition?"
"Yes, your honor." My mother's voice shakes, she quickly clears her throat before speaking, "I don't care what the doctors say, I know she can recover with more time."
"Mom...What are you saying?" I didn't think I could cry anymore, but I was wrong. I step in front of her, but her eyes don't find mine, instead, they harden as she looks at the judge behind me,
"I don't want my daughter's life support removed."