Bella never woke up after the incident in the Ballet Studio. Angst-fest, mostly. Merry Christmas!


I'll keep hoping, as she keeps dreaming
A
Twilight Fanfiction,
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen


"I love you, Bella."

I whisper the words to her still form. It's my fault. I know she hasn't moved for months. I know, because I've been here the whole time. Every minute I could manage. I've lived here.

I barely notice the insistent beep of the life-support machine any more. I've grown so used to it. But I still watch it, for confirmation that she's still alive. She's entirely dependent on machines, now, as she has been for months. She hasn't woken up.

The Doctors think she never will.

I hear their thoughts, and it's all I can do to stop myself from screaming.

It's my fault. If I'd never taken her to that stupid Baseball game in the first place, she'd be alive today, probably laughing at me, or kissing me as I held her tightly—but not too tightly—she was still my fragile Bella.

My family gave up visiting regularly months ago. Alice still comes, occasionally, and Carlisle. But everyone else stays at home, too full of sorrow to be able to face me, knowing that I'd hear their thoughts.

Even when Carlisle and Alice are here, their thoughts scream at me. Change her. Just change her, idiot. She won't wake up otherwise. Come on, Edward, you're smarter than this… don't be the cause of her death.

But either way I look at it, I'll be the cause of her death. If she dies here, hooked up to machines, it'll be my fault for not protecting her better from James and Victoria, and if she dies from vampirism, it'll be my fault, too.

Emmett took care of the nomads. Alice saw him, and she showed me, perhaps to shock me into doing something. The sight of my huge, eldest brother screaming blue murder and ripping apart the nomads did little to appease for my thirst for their blood. The sight of him afterwards—sobbing tearlessly as he burnt the pile, knowing that it didn't matter how violently they were killed, Bella was still going to die—choked me inside. This wasn't just me, it was my family now. Emmett didn't come back after that, because he couldn't bear to see her like that. Alice knew that if he came here, he'd change her.

I'd heard her recently wondering how long it would take for her to change Bella herself.

I'd sucked the venom out. I had. But something had gone wrong… and no-one knew what it was. My Bella didn't respond to anything… she just lay there, entirely still, looking as if she merely slept peacefully.

But she didn't. I knew, because she never spoke.

What I wouldn't give to hear her voice again.

Her cheeks were always pale now, dead-looking. They never blushed the beautiful crimson I loved so much.

The doctors threw around words like 'comatose', and I knew they were right. Every day, every hour, every minute that she lay under this spell of hers, the chance of her revival grew smaller.

That's what she was like, I often though to myself. Like a princess in an enchanted sleep, waiting to be woken. But no matter how many times I kissed her full, red lips, she never woke up. I stayed with her constantly, faking sleep when it was necessary and drinking blood-packs that my family smuggled in inconspicuously. Somehow, I managed to maintain this half-life, this parody of an existence.

And now, it was Christmas. Christmas Day, to be precise. Bella's room was all done up. The pine tree stood in the corner, adorned by glass baubles. My favourite was the angel, because she reminded me of my Bella. Tinsel hung in the window, seeming to mock me. It was mortifyingly bright and garish, quite inappropriate for a room where death hung constantly in the air.

But death was impatient; she would not wait forever. One way or another, Bella would die soon.

Was I really ready to lose her, for real this time? Forever?

No, of course not.

If she did die, though, I had my plan. The Volturi. I'd fly to Italy, and cause a disruption in their City. They'd come down on me, and I'd be with her.

As the drone of the life support machine continued, I buried my face in my hands.

I'd keep hoping, as she kept dreaming

The thought killed me inside. Slowly and surely. Because this was destined to be my forever.