Can someone tell me where, when and how Edward died please? Thanks.
I do not own Twilight.
Tell me if I should write more. If I get more than 5 reviews then i think i will continue. If you don't mind.
I opened my eyes reluctantly just to see my room in its usual state on a Monday morning. School. And I had to walk; I couldn't take the carriage like all my other friends did, mum said it was too expensive. I eventually dragged myself from my slumber, and threw on my robes, the itchy cotton scratching my pale white skin. I looked in the mirror, stunned by my horrific appearance. The robes were seriously worse than the school made them out to be. Whoever said long, maroon coloured suits, with coal black shawl things were 'practical' and 'smart' needed their head screwed on tighter.
"Eddie?" I heard my mother call, her voice thick with worry.
"Coming." I called, my voice sounded odd, it was breaking. I stumbled to the small bathroom, splashing cold water over my face, not bothering to mop it off the collar of my robes, and headed down stairs for some breakfast before I would go to my new school.
"What's it?" I asked my mother, who had been up since five a.m, washing the dishes she forgot to do last night, and cleaning the clothes. Father said she should have done them quicker, and gave her a slap on her arm. I looked for it, but her long-sleeved blouse covered it.
"Porridge, sweetie." She replied, turning around and sitting me on a chair, before dolloping out some brown slop into one of the white china, and blue rimmed bowls that were saved for special occasions. I looked at her, wanting to know what was going on.
"Honey." She said, her voice breaking twice, and tears threatening her sea green eyes.
"What's happened?" I asked, my voice shooting through two octaves. "Is it father, is it Rose?" My voice was chilling with despair, with anger but most of all fear. I could see it in her expression, in her voice, something was desperately wrong.
"No, darling, they're all fine." Her voice was oddly calm now, I was confused, and read her face carefully.
"It's, well, we are at war." She said. The sentence was short, bitter, as if for dramatic effect. I was frozen, stunned, but not surprised. It had been leading up to this and I was ready to be the man of the house.
"Okay." I whispered, digesting it all in. Would I have to fight? Be evacuated? What should I do?
"Father will need to fight." She whispered into the darkness, it wasn't to me.
"And my brother. Oh, poor Phillip, only young." I frowned, he was thirty-six. I cleared my throat.
"You, honey?" She asked, she was suddenly by my side, touching my face. Her hands felt cold to me.
"You are only fourteen. You cannot fight." Her voice turned dark, and I could easily guess what she was thinking. They may want me to fight, but she wouldn't let me.
"What about school?"
"You're new school. Oh, Edward, you were going to learn to sing, to be a musician." Were? Oh, dear.
"Will I have to leave London?" I asked the darkness that had spread around me.
"Yes, we will find somewhere else for you to stay. You will stay with Rose. Make some friends, you'd like that?" She looked at me, unshed tears glassy in her troubled eyes. I nodded, my jaw tight, and my voice was lost.
"I better go to school and tell them I can't go." I mumbled, my stomach twisting unpleasantly.
"Are you sure I have to leave? Not many other kids will, I'm sure."
"Do you want to be killed? To die?" Her voice was harsh.
"Then go and tell them that you're leaving." My mother ordered. I stood up, having hardly touched my porridge, and walked toward the front door, my hand feeling icy cold, like the blood had stopped. My heart, I couldn't even feel the beat.