Okay, so, first Twilight story I post (there's another one I'm working on, but is nowhere near posting unless I get a beta). Anyway, this is my response to www(dot)thetwilightchallenge(dot)blogspot(dot)com. I had to write in no more than five paragraphs with no more than one hundred and fifty words each, what would happen if Edward didn't save Bella from the van in Chapter Three of Twilight. Fics written in Spanish and English can participate. So go ahead and give it a try... after reading this. And please review. That will encourage (or discourage) me to keep writing. Have a wonderful day!
The van was coming right at me. I was frozen in shock, and I wasn't the only one, every face I looked at seemed to be in the same state I was. I closed my eyes as I, instead of seeing the van, felt it. Not the pain, at least not right away, but rather the van's presence, as stupid as that sounds. Then, of course came the pain, and right after that, I was surrounded in blackness.
I woke up, feeling a bit dizzy, in a white room. I recognized it right away as a hospital room. Then I felt something cold grabbing my hand, and I snuck in a breath. It hurt so badly, that's when I noticed the bandages around my torso. But that wasn't important, not in that moment. A gorgeous bronze-haired god was holding my hand. Edward Cullen was here, with me; that was enough to make my heart beat twice as fast.
"Bella," he whispered with his velvety voice, and I think I could've melted right there if that were possible. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need me to call my father?" He talked so fast I almost couldn't understand what he was saying. "I'm so sorry, I should've saved you. I should've done something! It's my fault you're here, and in pain." Then the image became blurry, like when in a dream, when you're about to wake up, only that this time it seemed like I was falling asleep instead of waking up. I heard faint voices, or rather voice, calling my name.
Next thing I know, there was fire running through my veins. I begged for someone to stop the fire, to kill me. I don't know how long this lasted, it could've been years or merely minutes, but time passed, and the fire began to cease. I could hear the soft breathing of someone beside me, faint whispers apologizing, and telling me everything was going to be okay. As the fire was extinguishing, I began to have more coherent thoughts, and, without opening my eyes, I could tell where I was—the room had wooden floors, and there was an open window. And I was one hundred percent sure that Edward was with me, that it was his voice that I was hearing. The thirst I was experiencing; it was unusual, because it was not water I was thirsting—it was blood. As soon as the fire was gone, everything clicked.
"I know what you are."