In books the story only exists through the main character. You see the world through their eyes, and in that way you are limited. In real life, though, everyone has a story, a point of view. Show these points of view, and all of a sudden a story becomes so much more fascinating.
I've often wondered what Elizabeth Masen was thinking on the night she made her final request. This is my version.
Elizabeth Masen's POV
Everything was hot. My arms, legs, face, everything was burning, the torture maddening. My senses were running wild, my vision distorting the room into grotesque shapes and my hearing swinging between deafeningly loud and deathly quiet. Sometimes shapes would appear before me, faces I didn't know or strange scenes of the impossible, the figures blurring and twisting. I ached for some form of comfort, a cold to douse the fire.
In the corner I saw a shadow growing, its darkness overtaking the edge of my vision. From it blasted a stream of ice, one that almost reached me, stopping just short. Come to me, a raspy voice whispered from within the darkness, You are at an end.
The voice of death calling.
But I was not weak, and not yet done. I would die soon, I knew. It was too late to deny it now. But I would be damned if I died without taking care of my son.
I forced my defeated body to turn to him, lying motionlessly on the bed beside me. My sweet, wonderful boy. The one with the beautiful smile, the one whose eyes would shine with love and compassion, the one whose heart cared so much. What type of fate or god or whatever could possibly let such a wonder perish? It was unthinkable. Edward would live. And I would make sure of it.
I barely registered a cool cloth being placed against my forehead. It did little to ease the inferno blazing through me, yet I managed to draw some strength from it and turn my face upwards. A golden haired man stood above me, perfect in every way. He was a doctor, my mind told me, the one who was taking care of us. I closed my eyes as a thought struggled to steal my attention from the agony.
One of them, my mind told me.
Somewhere, someone must have heard my silent plea. I had been given a chance to save my son, and valued it with all of my soul. Edward would live.
With all of my remaining energy I glared up at the doctor, determined to relay the importance of my request.
"Save him!" I commanded, forcing the words out of my burning throat. In the corner the shadow had grown, its arms spreading as it prepared to take me. I could feel its will bending upon me, telling me to give up, leave the suffering behind and move on. I steeled myself. I would die, but I would save my son first.
"I'll do everything in my power," he assured, taking my hand. I gripped it tightly, staring into his eyes even as everything around me blurred.
"You must. You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."
I did not see his reaction. The shadow had grown. I closed my eyes and waited for it to take me.
My only comment: Sometimes the subconcious knows things that the waking mind does not. :)
All characters, recognizable dialogue, etc. belong to Stephenie Meyer.