Author's Note: Okay, this is the latest chapter of my story Moonlight Sonata, done song-fic style, because I wanted to enter it in a contest. please Review :)

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, the song is White Horse by Taylor Swift, and the characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I've said it, step off.

From the upstairs window, I watched the storm build. Black clouds boiled in a black sky, crushing every inch of sunlight with their weight and temper. The wind howled like a feral wolf hunting for blood. Needle bright spears of lighting slashed and snapped and shot at the jagged rocks surrounding the cliffs beyond my home. The witchy scent of ozone stung the air before thunder exploded.

Say you're sorry
That face of an angel comes out
Just when you need it to
As I pace back and forth all this time
I honestly believed in you
Holding on,
The days drag on
Stupid girl
I should have known, I should have known

There had been flowers on my kitchen table that morning. Lilacs. No words of apology, because he knew that none could comfort. I'd been unable to face Charles, unable to look at my husband, and I'd waited until I was sure he'd gone from the house before dragging myself from our bed. I'd felt the tears well behind my eyes, because I knew he was sorry. Somewhere in his soul, I knew he didn't mean to hurt me, but as I brought my hand to the bruise on my cheek, I couldn't help but wonder why he did. And I knew it was bound to happen again.

Then I felt guilty. For what sort of woman hated her husband?

That I'm not a princess
This ain't a fairytale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood,
This is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now its too late for you and your White Horse,
To come around.

But strong as the guilt burned, the memories burned stronger. Walking past the kitchen table, I remember how last night, I'd crashed into it when my husband shoved me, the hard corner impacting my hip. My shoes had slid on the wet floor I'd just finished scrubbing, squeaking as they scrabbled for a hold on the stones, screeching louder as they found none and allowed me to tumble to the floor.

"Pathetic! Useless, worthless, idiot girl. So weak." He'd said, and issued a swift kick to the ribs again, then to the hip that was already injured.

I had curled into a ball on the wet floor, arms protecting my face as the cold water wove through clothes to chill my skin.

Maybe I was naïve,
Got lost in your eyes
I never really had a chance.
I had so many dreams about you and me.
Happy endings;
Now I know

I swept the floor, although, it didn't need to be done, I washed the coffee cup and the plate from the meal Charles had made for himself, all before catching sight of the calendar. I was fully aware of the date, given I'd been counting the very seconds since the last beating Charles had given me – but seeing it in print gave the day a whole new meaning. I dropped the sponge back into the soapy water, began to count back the days using my fingers. I counted once, twice, again.


I'd been married for sixty-two days. I'd not been a virgin for sixty-two days. And I'd not had my period for over sixty-two days. Instinctively, my hands flew to my abdomen. I couldn't be pregnant. As I felt the first fat tear leak out of the corner of my eye, I laughed at myself. Of course I could. It was entirely possible, highly probable.

A baby.

I marveled at the idea of a child. Someone I could love unconditionally, without limits, without bounds, who would love me right back. Suddenly I wanted this child like I wanted to breathe. And I was beyond sure now. But the idea of a family brought about just as many questions as it did answers. How could I justify bringing a child into my home? How could I possibly consider subjecting this innocent life to the violence that consumed my life now?

The answer was surprisingly simple. I could not.

But, how could I leave now?

I'm not a princess
This ain't a fairytale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood,
This is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now its too late for you and your White Horse,
To come around.

The storm hadn't worn off by the time I returned from the market. I stowed the groceries in the icebox, and turned to put the change into the little jar Charles liked me to keep it in. As I glanced at the shining silver in the palm of my hand, an idea crossed my mind, an escape plan started to form. Not for myself, but for my unborn child. And as the notion started to take form, I felt the life return to my body, the excitement brew in my eyes. For the first time since I'd been married, I was myself again, and I reveled in the thought of it as I pocketed the loose change.

And there you are on your knees
Begging for forgiveness,
Begging for me
Just like I always wanted,
But I'm so sorry

In the evening when Charles returned home, he was on time, which shocked me nearly as much as the fact that he was seemingly sober. I'd decided not to say anything about the baby until I was sure of my plans, convinced of his.

"Esme," he whispered my name on a breath.

I connected my deep brown eyes with his flaming green ones, felt a renewal of the love, of the reason I'd married him. I took a step closer to my husband.

"Yes, Charles?"

"I need to go."

His words stopped me in my tracks. Go where? This was his home.

"I…I don't understand." I finally managed to spit out.

"A ghra, there is a war in my homeland. A war my father is fighting. This is not an old mans fight. I must help him."

It made sense now. Europe, to fight in the Great War.

"My love, tell me you're okay with this, that you'll be okay on your own."

Lost for words, I only nodded.

Cause Im not your princess
This aint a fairytale
I'm gonna find someone, Some day
Who might actually treat me well.
This is a big world,
That was a small town
There in my rearview mirror,
Disappearing now.
And it's too late for you and your White Horse
Now its too late for you and your White Horse
To catch me now.

"I go tomorrow." He whispered so softly, I wasn't sure he'd spoken at all.

Charles was leaving. And I?

I had an escape.

Try and catch me now

It's too late

To catch me now.