A/N: I wrote this a few weeks ago, when I was supposed to be working on my NaNoWriMo novel. I haven't really edited it or anything, so it's probably a big mess, but here it is. My first attempt at an Esme fic. Hope you enjoy :)
The clock ticks eternally, never altering its pace; never faster, never slower. Only the steady tick-tock of the seconds passing away into eternity.
Sometimes you are jealous of the clock.
You wish that you could be that composed, that steady, that controlled. You wish that you could have remained as aloof from the world as that clock does, ticking on forever without letting anything alter it.
You wish you could have been like that.
Your new, long, pale fingers clench the banister, and you suddenly feel the wood give way under your nails. Startled, you let go immediately, but the damage is done, and you can clearly see the marks of your fingers on the hard material.
Your mother always taught you to value other's property. And even though Carlisle and Edward constantly assure you that they don't care how much of a mess you make, and that everything in the house is yours as much as it is theirs, you somehow can't stop having the feeling that you're intruding in something sacred, and that you don't deserve to be there.
The house rings with silence, and you sink down to your knees. Edward left to go hunting; you didn't go with him because you had hunted the day before and your eyes are unblemished gold. Carlisle has gone to the hospital; he could not longer hide under the pretense of sick leave.
And for the very first time since you tried to take your own life, you're alone.
You whisper the words to yourself, and they seem to echo in the empty house. You were relieved, almost joyful, when Carlisle had announced that you would be alone this afternoon, taking off you that terrible feeling. Guilt.
Because deep down, you know that when your two new companions say that they're staying to 'take care of you', they're really staying to take care of others. To protect the poor humans that live a few miles away.
You aren't used to being dangerous. You lived your human life in the shadow of your abusive husband, and you hardly remember ever feeling like you had any influence over anything. And now, your freedom is given to you on a silver platter, perfect and ready for you to take.
And you are afraid, more afraid than you remember ever being, because somehow you now have power and you can't see yourself fitting the role that they seem to want you to have in their perfect little family. How can you become someone entirely new after so much time?
The noise of the clock is still there, and the steadiness reminds you of Carlisle, with his everlasting patience and kindness when he explains things to you, and Edward, when he plays the piano with such rhythm and beauty that it almost makes you cry. Carlisle, so caring, wise, spiritual and moral; Edward, so intelligent and understanding…the perfect family.
But you were never like them. You never had their bravery, their control. You lived in hiding within yourself, blocking your heart from the blows of the only person in the world who knew you better than you knew yourself, and you cowered, trying to drown out the sound of his loud voice with the erratic, irregular beating of your human heart. You were never like Carlisle, who defied his own nature and succeeded. And you were never like Edward, who took things so calmly and was so brave.
You frighten yourself when you hunt.
You always hated violence, even from before you got married. You could not stand raised voices, fast movements, rough gestures. They bothered you, and they made you feel so useless and weak that you had sworn, the very first time you heard your parents fight when you were six, that you would never hurt anyone like that, and that you would never resort to violence.
Now, you remember the relief that tearing off a deer's head brought you yesterday, and the pleasure you felt as you buried your face in the warm blood of its neck. A few seconds later, you had felt disgusted at yourself without truly knowing why, and Edward had told you that it was alright, that it was normal for newborns to feel like this.
But only now, listening to the steady tick of the clock, do you realize that you reminded yourself of him, and that you hated yourself for it.
How can you ever truly be free from him, if you yourself are beginning to be like him? Edward, who had a loving family all his life, can't understand how you feel now, or why even the smallest gestures bring back the shadows of your past life. Newborns aren't supposed to remember much, but you know that your past memories are much too strong and harsh for you to forget.
So you cry, tearless sobs, and feel like you're losing control again. And you feel the guilt of losing your child, your human baby, so acutely that it almost breaks your heart, even though deep down you know that you had nothing to do with his death, and that nothing about it is your fault.
One time, you had asked yourself if you wanted to kill the man. After all he had done to you, surely you had the right to hurt him like that? Death would not bring to him the pain he had caused you, but it would be something.
And you had shaken your head at yourself, knowing that you hadn't the power or the strength to do something like that, and that you yourself had come to depend on him, depending on his voice, on his body, on his abuse.
Because he had made you feel so utterly useless that you did not know what to do with your life if he ever left, so you clung to him, and he took advantage of you in every way he could possibly think of.
And you feel so out of control.
What can you possibly give to Carlisle and Edward that he had not corrupted already? You gave him more and more until there was nothing left to give, and now you feel empty.
But suddenly you realize, with a jolt in your heart, that your body is no longer his. It has changed, and you are no longer the Esme he had. As for your heart, it had been his by force, and kept by him only as he kept you in the prison of his home. But now you are free, and your heart is your own to give.
You are new, you realize, with a rush of warmth in your heart. You no longer depend on him.
And somehow, this knowledge makes you feel better. You now own yourself, and you can decide what to do with yourself.
And maybe, maybe…you can give Carlisle and Edward what they need. A mother. Because your heart is yours and you can dedicate it to them, in every sense. You can be loving and caring, and you can make them feel and know that turning you into a vampire was the best choice they ever made.
You feel worthy.
You know now, that no matter what happens, you will never be like him, with his violent, unjustified rages. Instinct is different than cruelty, and you hate cruelty. You hate violence.
Deep down in your heart, you make a vow to yourself. You will never speak his name again to yourself, you will never compare yourself to him, and you will never honor him by thinking of him. You will no longer fear him, because you have nothing to fear.
And if you do your best, and give your love to those who truly deserve it, you can finally be what you have always wanted to be.
You stand up again as you hear with your new and powerful ears the sound of a car approaching. Carlisle. He must have found a way to escape the hospital and come to check on you.
The clock is still ticking, but suddenly you don't feel jealous anymore.
A/N: Please leave a review, no matter how long or short it is...I want to know what you think!