Twilight isn't mine.
Lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus,
pie Jesu Domine,
dona eis requiem. Amen.
That day of tears and mourning,
when from the ashes shall arise,
all humanity to be judged.
Spare us by your mercy, Lord,
gentle Lord Jesus,
grant them eternal rest. Amen.
I've never been afraid of my visions. I've never considered myself a freak for having them. It's like breathing. To me, seeing glimpses of the future is a natural part of life; the only way of life that I've ever known.
But my visions aren't forever. They are fleeting and constantly in flux. That was the hardest thing to learn about them. Just because I see something doesn't mean that it can't change. Happily-ever-afters can be ruined on a whim.
It never happens at the drop of a hat; I can always sense when a vision is upon me. First it builds slowly, like the rush of an ocean wave off in the distance. I can hear it coming a mile away, can already feel the salty mist of it on my face. Finally the wave crashes to shore, and I am pulled under. One minute, I'm talking in hushed tones with my husband, trying to forget everything that's happened, and the next minute I'm in a drab hotel room somewhere in South America.
He's frantically scribbling out his thoughts onto paper. Judging by the way his shoulders are hunched over and the erratic sound of his breathing, I can tell that he would be crying if he could. It breaks my heart to see such a wonderful, caring, self-sacrificing person reduced to this. Stabbing his pen to paper with such force that almost nothing is legible. I do, however, catch one word. The greeting.
The light of determination in his eyes means that this letter can only be about one person. The only person he has ever felt so much passion and love for. The only person who will forever have his heart, even if they don't realize it.
It doesn't surprise me. It's not the first time I've had this type of vision and I doubt it will be the last. He wants me to get in contact with her. He wants me to try to fix things without him being physically involved. I love him, but he is a coward.
Just as soon as the vision comes, it's gone. The water is sucked back in and I am left in darkness.
I don't open my eyes just yet. I no longer have to be psychic to know that a change will occur; that another vision is coming. I have grown weary of this game; of hoping in vain that it's finally all over. I don't even have to wait long. Like clockwork, another wave approaches. It crashes violently as I am again overcome.
He's shredded it this time. I can't bear to look at his face, which has become a twisted mask of agony and self-loathing. So, instead, I focus on the ceiling above him. He's still in Brazil. The ceiling is the same cracked surface I've been forced to stare at for the past three weeks. I don't know whether to find this fact encouraging or depressing.
The vision lingers, pouring salt into the wounds that refuse to heal. I accept the torment, glad that I'm the only one who has to witness the hell he's put himself in. When it finally does fade, I am again alone in the infinite blackness.
Once I open my eyes, I notice that my family has gathered around me in a loose circle. Their eyes, their windows into their minds, all ask me the same questions: Is it ever going to end? Will our broken family finally be mended?
Instead of facing them, I fix my gaze past them; out to the stream and beyond. All the way to where my brother is, crumbled and destroyed.
I sigh. I shake my head.
No. Nothing's changed.
We are left with nothing.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into little Alice's life and visions. I had originally written this as a companion to an Edward POV songfic, but then I realized that songfics were kinda lame.
Huge thanks to gleeglee for the super quick beta'ing. You should go check out her story, Within You, Without You. It's pretty damn good.
Reviewers go to heaven.