( self para )
In a flash, Edward was miles away from where he stood a few moments before, and he didn’t have the slightest clue how he got there—but he didn’t care. His thoughts were racing through his mind at a speed he’s never once encountered before. He couldn’t think; he couldn’t speak; he couldn’t bring himself to thing logically and sensibly in this very moment—for as shock devoured his body, his thoughts continued to become nothing more than the composition he had been working on earlier.
He ran as fast as he could, but no matter how fast he was able to move his legs, this was just something he couldn’t escape.
A century of change happened since he lived in Chicago. Gone were the wagons and musty street vendors, and in its place, skyscrapers soared and machinery dominated. It was unrecognizable; it wasn’t his home anymore.. not really.
Home—-in an upper middle class neighborhood, not too far
from the center of the city, Edward’s childhood house rested
untouched. A construction made of copper bricks was what it was.
Upon entrance, a young lad, who was barely tall to peer over the kitchen counter, could be seen sliding down the banister, squealing and laughing as his mother reprimanded him. In the living room, the same boy was showing off his prodigal talent as guests surrounded him with beaming grins, but it wasn’t the music that called to Edward. No, it was the eyes.. the emerald green eyes.
Emerald—-it highlighted the end of the yellow brick road,
yet the remnant of his humanity.
Emotions submerged him as his pale hands clenched into fists at the hem of his sleeves. They suffocated him, and although Edward no longer needed to breathe, it filled him with contempt. Averting his golden eyes, they fell upon the adolescent’s mockery.
—-but he didn’t want to see that.
Again, he fled, but this time, he didn’t have to run as far. With a hand full of yellow daffodils, the bronze-haired boy tumbled onto his knees between two graves.
❛ It’s been a while since I’ve been here, and for that, I sincerely apologize. I brought you daffodils—-your favorite… you always forgave me whenever I came home with daffodils… ❜
❛ I’m married now, mum, to the sweet girl I told you so much about the last time I was here, but you already knew that, huh? ❜ A soft chuckle parted from his lips, although unshed tears filled his eyes, and a light grin formed. ❛ Despite how hard I tried to be secretive as a young lad, you knew everything.. You never got to tell me how you did that; you said that you would when I was with child.. and Bella and I—-we have a daughter now. Her name is Renesmee, and she’s absolutely phenomenal.. ❜
As the world revolved, allowing darkness to fade and light to conquer, Edward talked. He talked and talked and talked and talked, informing his parents about the events that had taken place in the past few days and asking them for advice they’ll never get to utter. The disputes he’s had with his wife, the fueling war, his daughter—-Edward spoke of it all, and then, he spoke of nothing at all.
—- but as the sun rose, indicating
that his time was up, he uttered:
❛ I never thanked you, mum, for your last wish. If it weren’t for you,
then I wouldn’t have lived such an extraordinary life.. Thank you. ❜
