Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I just can't resist spending obsessive amounts of time in the world she created.
The title and chapter titles are taken from the lyrics of Evanescence's My Immortal
BE WARNED: This is not an Edward & Bella love story. It is a story about whether forgiveness is possible after devastating betrayal. It is about loyalty and family, trust and hope, but I can make no promises of a HEA. I hope you'll still give it a chance and that you'll enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it.
Prologue – This pain is just too real
"Please Carlisle, all I'm asking is that you hear me out. I really need your help." I could sense the desperation in my voice and hoped it would sway him. I knew he cared about me; it had been obvious in the kindness he had shown me ever since I met him.
"I'm so sorry Bella. I promised my son. He thinks you are better off without us and I tend to agree. You have no place in our world and it's time to live your life." I could hear the genuine regret in his voice, but it was still unwavering, tired and stern; like a strict teacher talking to a wilful child.
"But you don't understand..." I sounded like a petulant child even to myself. As Carlisle cut me off again, I silently cursed myself for not scripting better. I was going to lose everything through lack of preparation.
"No you don't understand Bella. Your human issues seem monumental to you I'm sure, but to us they're just a drop in the ocean of time." The fact that Carlisle delivered these words so kindly did nothing to ease their devastating effect on me. I knew I was running out of time. I considered blurting out the truth but my all my instincts told me it wouldn't be believed and the conversation would be over. My self-control cracked, I let go of any shred of dignity and started sobbing into the phone. "I thought you loved me Carlisle."
There was a long pause before he replied carefully, "I care about you Bella, as I do every acquaintance, every patient and every human I've met. Actually, in truth, I care about you over and above any of them, but I have to put my family first and my family is already divided over you. I'm concerned that any further contact with you will cause fractures that I will never be able to heal."
To me, the implication was clear; I was not family...I was as unimportant and fleeting as everybody else in their charade. I'd thought my heart was already broken beyond repair but realised my mistake as the remaining pitiful pieces shattered. Using all my reserves, fuelled by my knowledge that this was my only chance, I pulled my mind together as my soul disintegrated.
"I wouldn't call unless it was important," I implored, my voice shaking. "I am begging for your help. Just a few minutes to explain, is that really too much to ask?"
There was a scuffle at the other end of the phone and some almost inaudible hissing before Rosalie's furious, sneering voice replaced Carlisle's, starkly in contrast to his kind and patient tone. "Begging Bella? Really?" Rosalie spat, "That's pathetic even for you. You need to understand that no one here wants to know. You were just a bit of fun for Edward to alleviate a century of boredom. Edward's masochistic experiment in emotions and self-control. But even he is not so cruel to continue it when you are clearly delusional and in danger. None of us care about your petty human dramas. You have done enough damage, caused enough discord in this family already. We have moved on, why don't you?"
I was too stunned by Rosalie's conformation of every fear I had had since he left me in the forest three months ago to even notice the long ominous tone in my ear. I let the phone slide onto the bed. I fell to my knees. All the hurt and pain that I had been repressing resurfaced and threatened to consume me like they had in that first dreadful week. I longed for the relief of oblivion but hardened my mind to it.
"Focus Bella," I muttered to myself. My eyes searched the room that I had lived in for less than a year but had been filled with both beautiful dreams and the blackest of nightmares. My gaze fell on a sketch I had drawn from memory four weeks ago and pinned on my wall. Then I made the stupidest decision I had ever made, which when you considered my long history of appalling decisions was really saying something. "Not so much a choice as a lack of options," I said to myself as I reached for my backpack and my passport.