She

It was meant to get easier.

I was supposed to make things right.

Protect her. Really, I was just protecting myself.

Running through the forest, where I was usually so much at ease, I realised now that I longed for death.

For the first time, I felt I could not go on. Not without her.

She was my source of sunshine, seeing as I had shied away from the original for so long. She was the warmth that barely heated my icy existence. Her touch left my stone-like skin tingling. Her eyes, so youthful and full of life. She was like the aurora borealis, with power enough to fill a sky with blinding light. To fill my dead body with faith and hope once more.

Isabella.

A piece of myself was missing, lost far behind. I had left it in Forks. The one thing that could make my existence complete.

Now she, the missing piece of my life, lay stagnant like a puddle on the side of the road. No breath caressed her lips. Her blue, dead lips. Her corpse was bound to be beautiful.

The image burned the skin inside of my eyelids, scoring the sight into my brain. I was sure that if my heart could beat, it would be breaking.

I had to set things right. The story had messed up. Romeo was supposed to die before Juliet. I could only hope that Shakespeare’s story was still in play, that her death was just a grievous joke.

Life is not a story, Edward, I reminded myself. There was no happy ending to this tale. It was not a fairytale; it was my worst nightmare.

If I was too late to save her, I would send myself to meet her. She could not wander through death alone.

The nightmare would be over soon, I told myself. We would be together again; forever.