At first I didn't really like Esme and Carlisle that much because they dont get mentioned in the books as much as the others and they dont have many lines or scenes in the films, but once I read about them more and how they affected one another after just about thirty minutes in the hospital and how they never forgot one another and how Carlisle saved her and they fell in love they became my favourite couple! I think they are more in love than the other couples (sorry if I offend anyone by that, but its what I think) and I wish Stephenie Meyer writes more books, maybe about the characters pasts.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and the Twilight series belong to Stephenie Meyer
I will never understand my father. How could he let so many innocent people die? Why didn't he have the compassion and patience to wait to see if his assumptions were true before he sent them to death? So many people had died because of him, half of them or might would be innocent against the crimes he had blamed them for, what he accused them of being.
"I take no pride in this Carlisle," He would tell me often as we watched the person be burned alive in the flames. "But I take pride in knowing that we are keeping the town safe,"
You take pride in knowing that somewhere parents have lost their child, siblings have lost their brother or sister, children have lost their parent and a man or woman as lost their soul-mate? I would demand in my head, too scared to say this out loud to him, worried about what his reaction would be. I didn't want to fight my father, he was the only family I had.
"Witches, vampires and werewolves are evil, son." He would continue, seeing the shocked expression on my face. "They would kill countless people. In us destroying them, we are saving more lives than we are taking."
I thought about this as I watched from my bedroom window as people started chucking twigs towards the stake, preparing it for the burning that would take place soon. My father was in the square, pointing at where they should place everything. He was the leader of the pastors, which meant that he was in charge of getting everything ready.
My thoughts wondered to that poor woman trembling in the prison. There was no way of knowing whether she was innocent or not, so once the pastors accused her of being a witch, she was thrown into the prison straight away and sentenced to death. I had seen her in town a few times, walking with her son who was round about my age, but he was already married and had two children. He would be in his house reassuring his wife and daughters that everything would be fine, when inside he knew it wasn't.
I felt sorry for them all. I would go down there and tell them this myself, but my father had told me to never speak to the kin of evil.
My father insisted that I watched the death of the witch. "One day son, when I'm too old, you will take my place. You will be in charge of keeping this town safe. It's a huge responsibility son, but I'm sure you can handle it."
I clenched my fists, the knuckles going white with the strain. Anger took over me. "I don't want to be like you!" I growled under my breath, glaring at my father. His back was facing me, so he couldn't see me. "I don't want to be a murderer!"
My mother's voice filled my head. Be strong little one; remember I will always love you. I'm so proud of you. My mother had died shortly after giving birth to me, but she had whispered this to me when she held me in her hands for the first and last time. Although that was twenty-three years ago, I could remember it, the pain and love in her voice. I love you son.
Everything I did was to make her proud, but what would she think of me as I sent innocent people to their deaths? What did she think of my father? But I remembered how in love she was with my father, how she would never judge him for what he did. Would she judge me?
Somehow I felt like I would hate it more if she was proud of me, not disgusted. I didn't want her to be proud of me; I didn't want anyone to be proud of me. I didn't want to be like my father. I didn't want to be a murder.
What did I want to be then? I had always found medicine fascinating, my friend, Michael, has a father who is a doctor. A doctor saves lives - that's what I want to do, save lives, not take them, like my father does.
I looked back over to the square. My father turned and spotted me watching and waved, but he didn't smile. I wished my mother was still here, she wouldn't be forcing me to watch something I didn't like.
Soon I would go and live in my own place. Would I marry? I had seen couples walking down the streets of London nearly every day, hand in hand, her resting her head on his shoulder and the two of them glancing at each other and sharing a loving glance. It must be nice, coming home after a long day and having someone to talk to, someone who would listen and comfort you.
And would I have children? Wait, why was I thinking about this? The first I had to do was get a house and a job, maybe get married some years later. Besides, children were the last thing on my mind right now.
I spotted my two closest friends, Madison and Patrick, outside their houses watching as they prepared the stand, surrounding it with twigs. Patrick looed fascinated - he would soon become a pastor as well - whereas Madison was horrified. She hated violence.
Two women were walking past my house and I edged away from the window so I didn't spook them. They, like everyone else in the town, were talking about the accused woman.
"I've known her all my life," One of them, the blonde one, said with a sigh, her voice heavy with sympathy. "I know she isn't a witch,"
"Me too, if she was, why would she be a servant? Sometimes people are judged too quickly." Her friend agreed.
"But you know the real reason why they suspected her, right?" The blonde asked.
Her friend nodded. "Because her mother was accused of being one - I think that's a rubbish reason to send her to death though."
The blonde shrugged, pain etched on her face. "You can't argue with the pastors."
As they walked off, I thought about what they had said. The poor woman was going to die because of what my father and the other pastors had believed her mother was. It wasn't fair to her, it wasn't fair to her children and grandchildren.
I got up. I couldn't stay inside like a trapped mouse. I grabbed my coat and slipped it on, opening the door and slamming it shut. I walked towards the square, nodding and waving to people as I passed them but never stopped to talk. I walked up to my father.
"Carlisle," He looked shocked to see my outside. "Didn't I tell you to stay inside?"
"I wanted some fresh air." I almost added that I was old enough to leave the house whenever I wanted but stopped myself. "How long until it's…time?"
"As soon as the sky is dark," He clearly wanted a dramatic affect to this, burning her at night time so the flames stood out. I felt sick inside.
"Mind if I go out for a walk?" Why was I asking permission again? Oh yeah, he had bought me up that way, to ask him for everything like I was a servant.
He looked up at the sky. "Well, I guess. But make sure you are back here soon. I don't want you to miss this, soon you'll be taking my place."
I winced at the thought.
"Son, I know you think of this job as horrible, I know you hate what I do, but your mother wanted you to take over my job after I retire. We don't want to upset her now, do we?"
I felt furious with him, bringing mother into this. He knew that I would do anything to make her happy, even if she was dead I knew she was watching over me. I swallowed my anger down. "Fine,"
The first place I headed was the bakery. My mother's friend worked there and it was a quiet, friendly place to go to. Marion was taking out hot-cross buns out of the large oven as I approached and walked in. She smiled over her shoulder at me.
"Hello Carlisle," She said, standing up and putting the tray down on the table. "I thought you would be with your father."
I shook my head. "No, I wanted to get as far away from that stand as possible."
She nodded in understanding and a second later her cheerful little seven-year old girl came racing down the stairs. "Carlisle!" She cried when she saw me.
I stood up and leaned down to hug her. "Hello, Bethany."
"Mother, can I have one?" Bethany asked, sitting on the stool next to me and pointing at the freshly-made hot-cross buns.
"No dear, they're still hot." Her mother told her. "You can have one later."
I laughed as Beth extended her hand and prodded the baked cakes with her finger. She launched back instantly and sucked her finger.
"Bethany!" Her mother groaned. "Quickly, go wash it under cold water."
"I'll go with her," I offered and led her towards the tap. I needed something to do.
Bethany looked up at me. "Where's your daddy?"
"In the square,"
Bethany knew what would happen later. At the age of seven, she was pretty clever. She nodded and turned the tap with her tiny hand, running her finger under it.
"Does it sting?" I asked her.
She shook her head. "No, not anymore,"
"Good," I waited for her to turn the tap off before we headed back to where her mother was standing.
"Carlisle, we're about to have dinner, would you like to join us?" Marion invited. "Do you think your father would mind?"
"Yes, Carlisle, stay for dinner!" Bethany tucked on my arm.
I smiled. "I would love to, but I better head back. Father wants me to watch with him."
Marion nodded. "OK, see you tomorrow."
"Bye!" I waved goodbye to her and Bethany before heading out of the warm bakery and back to the square. It wasn't hard to find my father; he was talking to the other pastors. They were laughing. There was nothing funny about someone dying!
I stood beside my father as two guards dragged the woman across the square. She was in a fit of panic, glancing around as if waiting for someone to come and save her. Her eyes changed from panic to fury as soon as she saw the pastors. Her gaze landed on me. She glared at me and it seemed as if she was saying, you could have stopped this, you're his son, he would listen to you!
Right, like my father would really listen to be. I was second best to him; he cared more about his work and for me. I found myself looking at the ground as they tied her to the stand the fire started. Smoke rose and clouded the whole town. People edged back towards their houses to escape from it, but my father told me to wait till it was over. The pastors were smiling.
"The witch is dead!" One of them called loudly. "The evil died with her!"
The others started to echo him, chanting. "The witch is dead, the evil died with her!"
From somewhere near I heard a cry of pain and then a baby crying. The family of this woman had heard the chanting and knew their beloved family member was dead. Luckily I couldn't see the stand, the smoke prevented it, blocking my sight, but I was glad.
Then a hand was on my shoulder. I looked at my father.
"You see son? At the cost of one life the town is safe." He patted my shoulder. "Soon, you'll be saving the whole town from evil like this."
Murderer! I screamed in my head. I gave a weak nod to my father and my eyes fell back down towards the ground.
"Let's go home and celebrate," My father decided and invited the other pastors to come with us. They all agreed, looking forward to a cold beer after a long day.
I followed them home. The wind had cleared the smoke and the burned ashes of the woman were getting swept off the stand by cleaners. Everyone watched my fathers and the others as they passed and I knew they were angry at what they had done. I also knew that the woman had been innocent.
"Beer, son?" My father asked once we were inside our house. Somehow, the house didn't feel like home.
"No thanks, I think I'll go to my room." I said and hurried up the stairs, flopping down on my bed. My window was open and I could hear people talking outside. I got up and closed it and pulled the curtains across so I didn't have to see the square.
The look the woman gave me had been filled with hate. I realized lots of people would give me that same look as soon as I took my father's place. Everyone would hate me because I would be the one to cast the final judgement, to say whether to kill them or not. It didn't matter to me now if it made my father and mother proud, what mattered was that families would lose someone they love, that I would be the one to blame for that.
I shook my head. I would not be like that.
Two weeks later, my father sat be down at the table and declared he would retire tomorrow. He told me everything he knew about his job but I was only half listening. If I listened and nodded, it would be like me agreeing this was what I wanted.
"Isn't there anyone else in the town who could take over your job?" I tried.
He shook his head. "No one here is good enough."
"But how will I know whose innocent and who's guilty?"
"People are like books son, you can read them. Read their faces, their reactions, and you'll know."
Because that way worked out great for you, didn't it? I demanded in my head. I didn't want to take over him! I didn't want to kill people for no reason.
Then an idea hit me.
I wasn't like my father, I had patience. I would listen to people and keep an eye on them, not make snap decisions of them. That way I could be sure that the people who got burned were evil. Yes a life would be lost, but surely the town people would feel glad that they were safe?
It was perfect. This was I wasn't taking lives of innocent people, but stopping someone from hurting anyone of the town. And Bethany wouldn't be scared of me.
"Son?" My father's voice made my thoughts dissolved. "So, are you willing to take the jump?"
I looked up and nodded bravely. "Yes," What had I just agreed to? I had agreed to murder.
No, I would change things. I would make sure I knew for certain if the accused person was evil or not. I was determined not to be a murderer.
Then the woman's desperate gaze came into my face and I sighed, sitting back down in defeat.
Even if I did it my way, I would still kill people. Evil or not, they were still going to die, and it would be my fault.
My father watched my change of expression carefully. "Would you rather let evil take over the town and kill everyone?"
I I shook my head "No,"
"To you want to disappoint your mother?"
Don't bring her into this! "No,"
"Good, you can start tomorrow. Remember son, evil is unwelcome here."
I nodded, feeling so confused and headed back to my room.
"What about dinner?" My father called after me. "Surely your starving?"
I shook my head, halting half-way up the stairs. "No, I'm fine." With that, I turned and headed upstairs without another word.
And that's the first chapter done! I know what you are thinking - this is just like I Will Always Love You. Well, this story is just like that. I moved all the chapters to this and improved it. This will be the full story now, if this makes any sense.