Friend Of The Dead

Inside Her Head And Surprising Stranger

Edited

The word confusion is described by the scholars as the state of being bewildered or unclear about something in one's mind.

However, that single word was not nearly enough to describe how perplexed I was about that grave. There was no logical conclusion to it. It simply couldn't be. There are many oddities in the world but even they have their own weird explanations.

This one doesn't.

Ever since it became clear that Edward Anthony Masen is actually the name of a seventeen-year-old boy who died in 1918 from Spanish influenza—everything has turned upside down, and I've fallen into a pit of confusion. Why? Well, the answer is as clear as the sky.

Because that name is Edward Cullen's middle name.

What is the real meaning? I happen to ask myself. How is that name related to him? Is he some sort of descendant of the past Edward Masen and the name has been passed down through generations? If so—why is the grave empty? And how come the past Edward Masen died at the same age that present Edward Cullen is now?

That could be possible–the descendant theory. Edward is adopted and his biological parents are dead. Perhaps his real surname is Edward 'Masen' and he took the surname 'Cullen' after he was adopted into the Cullen family. But it felt like there is much more to the story. And so, what is the rest? If I do some research, would I find that Rosalie or Alice have some false grave that is old and fits the description of the two?

There was something to the story that didn't quite make sense if this name is a hundred years old, why is Edward carrying it? A family couldn't have named their children Edward Anthony Masen for over a century, that would be just plain unusual and intense. And who knows if these supposed 'Masen' family actually live, maybe their lines were cut off sometime in the past. If so, why is Edward carrying the name?

But that's not what confused me, not in the slightest. Here's the biggest question of all.

Why the fuck do I care?

Why do I care so much about a name I read on a false grave that my sister's weird boyfriend holds as a middle name? That's not how I am, the basics are all I need to know. Being this curious is as bizarre as a one-winged bird who is still able to fly.

I was the very same still. I was just more focused. Instead of spending free periods and lunchtime daydreaming and sketching, I was off in the library researching. The internet, while it functioned, was a glorious invention. But when it failed to bring forth any important data it became a nuisance.

No one really questioned what I was doing, it wasn't uncommon to find a student visiting the library at every available chance to work on a project. It was however weird when said student kept absentmindedly bringing out a folded paper and staring at it cryptically before stuffing it back in her pocket and looking around suspiciously as if she had the map to Treasure Island.

I could not part with the sketch, I couldn't allow myself to. Every few hours I took it out to reassure myself that I wasn't going crazy with paranoid theories, that this was real, and it was reasonable to want to know the truth.

For my sister, I repeated, for my sister.

Though most of the reason is that I felt an obligation to keep it with me, until I figure out the mystery in this mystery.

Today, however, I knew I needed to eat something. I'd already skipped breakfast, skipping lunch wouldn't end well. I'd been clever in arriving early to get myself some food and sit down at an empty table away from the crowded ones to enjoy some solitude. However, Bella's gang of friends thought that I'd sat alone to reserve it for them, and were quick to come back with trays of food and loud, boisterous laughs.