A/n: Hello my lovelies…
This is another alternative POV and I feel the need to warn ya'll. Esme is NOT an easy character to write but it is extremely important to this story for her POV to be told. While we all make not approve of her choices or actions, keep in mind she isn't well. She's mentally ill and in the throes of a grief that no parent should have to endure. I speak from experience having buried a child. I know her pain. I know her grief. Although I didn't have a mental illness or treat my living child as she did, I do understand her head a bit more. (And I sought help)
So, no flames, okay. I am NOT condoning her actions AT ALL. I love Chaosward to much for that to ever happen, trust me!
Thank you to my dear beta, A Jasper for Me. You inspire me and ILY! Also, to my lifelines: Eternally Edward's girl, Grnidgirl and Cutestkidsmom. I want to squishy hug you all 3 so hard and tight;)
My head is foggy again.
Most days, that's how I prefer it. I don't have to think, do or feel. I can just … be.
There's no pain in the numb. There's no guilt in the numb. And, there's definitely no regret in the numb.
I like, or preferably, embrace the numb.
I guess this is what happens when you would rather be dead. I wish Carlisle had just let me die. I wish my daughters had lived and our family was still a loving, cohesive unit.
My husband cheats on me, unable to touch me or afraid to even ask. He's afraid I'm made of glass and about to shatter at any moment.
Emmett is following in his father's footsteps and has become a womanizer. I abhor that behavior but I simply don't have the strength to tell him to stop or even remind him that's not how to treat women.
Alice is still trying to 'fix' me and be the perfect child. God bless her, but there is no fix for what ails me. I'm doomed and it breaks my heart to continue to disappoint her, yet nothing will change it either.
And there's Edward … I've lost him completely. He's definitely one of my biggest regrets. I think I've destroyed his soul. I'll burn in Hell the most for that one.
I roll over on the bed, listening to the quietness of the house. The air is still and the silence traps me amid the piles of blankets. I know I need to grab a few more pills before the numb wears off completely otherwise my head will flood with the ache that surfaces when I don't push it away.
The latest rejection from Edward has sent me into a tailspin of extraordinary turmoil. Even the numbing sensations of the narcotic cocktail can't keep it at bay this time.
I have no more tears to cry as I finally manage to sit up and grab the bottle of Xanax from the bedside table, along with my glass of wine. I pour four pills into the palm of my hand, wash them down with a glass of white zinfandel and manage to walk over to the bedroom window.
I stare out at the green of the landscape around me and put my palms against the glass. It's cool and eerily chilling to my skin. The fact that I feel the cold warrants a deep breath from my lungs.
I see a tree swaying in the soft wind and I remember a day when we all went on a picnic a few hundred yards behind the house.
Alice and I played with bubbles, laughing and giggling as I watched her chase them while I blew them from a large wand she'd insisted I buy her a few days before.
The boys and Carlisle are throwing a ball around. Emmett is doing all he can to teach Edward how to throw it hard like he did. Carlisle is watching the two of them and Edward is soaking in all the attention.
It was a good day for him. Apparently the new medication was working, as his outbursts and mood swings had settled a bit and his temperament made it a little easier for us to have days like this one.
Carlisle had been so concerned when we'd finally gotten a good therapist to start handling Edward's care. But he was still harping on me to seek out her help as well. However, I adamantly refused, as the medication would make it difficult for me to conceive again and I was desperate for at least one more baby.
I knew Edward had been cursed the same as I was. The doctors had warned me my illness was hereditary, but I had always managed it with medication and hadn't had a manic cycle in years at that point.
That was a good day.
I found out a short time later, I was indeed pregnant again.
I was ecstatic while Carlisle was hesitant to embrace the joy in the news. He was always worried; about my illness, about another miscarriage, about everything.
I wanted those babies.
I desperately needed those babies.
My other children were getting older, not as needy, becoming more independent. I wanted something to make me feel useful again. I craved the feeling of being a new mom.
All it took was a split second for it all to be shattered.
All it took was Edward and his fucking deviant behavior to destroy me, him, all of us.
And I've never let him forget it.
I feel guilt for that for a split second, but then I remember the day we laid our little angels to rest in the ground.
Then, all I feel is rage, pain, heartbreak.
I sink to the floor in front of the window, my knees touching the glass and I smush my cheek up against the glass as the sob screams from my lips.
I hate that I hurt.
I hate that I feel.
I hate that I hate my own child.
And I cry over that hate. I'm a mother, I shouldn't feel that way.
I feel like it's time to just get rid of it all. I try to search through my fogging brain for a plan, an idea, something to end it all.
It's time for it all to end.
It's time for me to end.
Soon, very soon, something will finally snap inside of me and I'll figure it all out. But soon is not right now. Right now, I curl up against the window and let my eyes watch the tree sway overhead and allow the numb to creep back in.
Soon my numb will be permanent.
A/N: She's clearly NOT as numb as she'd like to be…
See ya'll Monday….