My Angel E.C.

Ch.10

"What are you reading?" I asked Elizabeth, as she'd been consumed in a particular novel for quite some time now.
        Elizabeth and I had become exceptionally close after she had told me of her cause of death. It had been like a wall she couldn't break through without anyone to tell. Once she did, she opened up a bit more, becoming less mysterious, though still a little strange. I had felt myself warm up to her as well.
        She read for a few moments more before finally looking down at me. We were in the area in the woods, she had shown me before, but now it was a few months later, and the snow has melted. I was currently laying down in the grass at her feet.
        "The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe, written by Edgar Allen Poe," she replied.
        "Aren't his works very dark?" I questioned.
        She nodded. "Uh-huh."
        "Then why do you like reading it? Doesn't it make you upset?"
        Elizabeth loved reading dark novels and telling me about horror films. She loved the paranormal, which was understood, but she usually seemed like such a happy person, though her past may not have been as good as she would have liked. The spirits and monsters in her books are all focused on the murders of the living, and wallowing in eternal agony. I wondered why she adored dark and gothic literature when she is an example of how real spirits don't behave the way fictional ones do.
        She sighed.
        "Page 68," she muttered to herself before closing the book and laying it on its side on the bench next to her. She peered down at me, resting her arms on her knees.
        "Edward, Edgar Allen Poe's life was filled with sadness and pain. The poor guy never got a break. He lost his mother, his adopted mother, and the love of his life. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, and died in a mysterious way. People suspect drugs and alcoholism were the real cause. Others think he was beaten to death. You say his works are 'dark' and that's it, but you don't realize the depth of his message. He wanted people to see how messed up his life was, the pain he was in. It's not just a good read to me. I can feel what he felt while writing, I really do. All of his misery is spread out on the pages of most of his writing. To answer your question, it does make me upset. It makes me absolutely miserable. But to feel what he felt, I just feel connected to him that way. He understood what it was like to be a troubled soul, even when he was still alive."
        "I never thought of it that way," I replied quietly. I'd forgotten how one human could feel such pain. I always assumed you'd have to be something more than human to deal with that level of emotion. Once again, Elizabeth shows me, I'm not the only one with problems.
        "A lot of people never do. You remind me of him."
        I sat up so I could lean against the bench. "What do you mean?"
        "You both lost your mothers, and the women who you loved. He was a successful soldier, though he hated it. You said you would have joined the military when you were human. You both live, or in his case lived, in torment over your pasts."
I winced at her mention of Bella and my torment, and Elizabeth shot me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I shouldn't have been so blunt."
        I shook my head. "No, you're right. We are similar."
        She nodded, but I could tell she was weary at my easy dismissal of the matter. I laid back down in the grass, and beckoned her to join me.
        She did, grabbing her book and snuggling into my side as I put my arm around her. She resumed reading, opening to a poem, entitled "The Raven".
        "Read to me?" I asked.
        Immediately she began. "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered wake and weary. . . "

Elizabeth read the entire poem. It was amazing hearing her read aloud. Her voice held such conviction and emotion. It made me truly believe she could feel what the author had felt when he had written it.
        "And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore!"
        She closed the book.
        "That was very good."
        "Thanks. It's sad, though. He had written that while his wife, Virginia, was suffering from tuberculosis. It was published an entire two years before she died. He knew she didn't have much time left. It was like Poe was grieving for her early."
        I nodded along with what she said.
        A few moments passed where nothing was said. Then:
        "I hate that word."
        I turned my head to face Elizabeth, and saw her grey eyes already trained on me.
        "What word? Raven?"
        "No." She rolled her eyes. "Nevermore. It's so definite and negative. It's like Poe was saying, through the Raven, that he'd never see Virginia again. He saw her dying, and his grief made him believe they'd never meet again. How can someone live like that, thinking that they're doomed to never join their loved ones again?"
        I hesitated in answering her, but by the look on her face, she realized she hit a nerve before I spoke. "I can relate to that."
        Elizabeth sat up. "I did it again. Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I keep bringing it up, and I can feel your heart break even more, and-"
        She covered her face with her hands, breathing heavily.
        "Hey, it's alright. You didn't mean to."
        She shook her head.
        I couldn't stand seeing her upset. I grabbed her wrist, trying to pry it away from her face.
        "Elizabeth, look at me. I'm fine."
        "No, you're not," she said, lifting her head to look at me. "You're not fine. You can't lie to me, Edward. I know you're broken inside. I can feel it. You might try to ignore it, but it's still there, and you know it. The more you try to ignore it, the more it builds up and magnifies. You're emotional pain is more than anyone's I've ever encountered. I can't pretend to act like I don't feel it."
        "What do you expect me to do?" I asked. "I told you why I don't-"
        "Stop acting like your past didn't happen!" She suddenly exclaimed, standing up and pacing in front of me. "Don't tell me that Bella left you for a werewolf and then wallow in your self-pity and ignore the matter of the fact that she did actually leave you! You're better than that. How are you supposed to enjoy life, if you can't escape your own personal demons?"
        "I don't want to enjoy life without her. I can't just forget her. She will always be part of me," I said.
        "That's rubbish, and I'm not telling you to forget her. I'm telling you to move on! Bella died, Edward, more than two hundred years ago!"
        "I know that!" I snapped, losing my calm façade. I stood up, and shouted at Elizabeth as she stared defiantly back at me. "I know when she died! I couldn't even say goodbye because her funeral was held on that mutt's land. Do you even know what it's like to lose someone you love and not even have the chance to say goodbye to them?"
        "Yes," she said, her voice cold and devoid of any emotion. Her eyes emptied of the fiery boldness she had displayed, and her head dropped, her hair creating a curtain around her face.
        I immediately fell quiet, and the silence hung heavily in the between us. Of course, she lost someone. She lost her parents. She died so young; her own life was taken from her.
        "Elizabeth, I didn't mean-"
        "Edward, it's my fault. I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have pushed you. I'll- I'll see you tomorrow, Darling."
        I grabbed her arms, to prevent her from going. "Wait, no-"
        Elizabeth vanished.
***
        I sighed in frustration once again. It may be hours until Elizabeth comes back. I had gone back to the flat, not caring to wait for her in the place she disappeared from.
        I let out a sob that grew more jagged with each breath.
        I always ruin things, don't I?
        I ruined my humanity by becoming a monster. I ruined my relationship with Bella by letting that Jacob Black get close to her. I ruined my family's faith in me by leaving them and becoming the mess I am now. I ruined mine and Elizabeth's friendship because I lost my temper at her when she was right.
        I ignore the torture that goes on in my ever-pounding skull in hope that when I do approach it, the pain will have faded by then. But it will never fade. It will continue to grow just like Elizabeth says.
        I'm a miserable excuse for a vampire, let alone a man.
        "Edward, are you alright?" Elizabeth called in a shaky voice from down the hallway. No, if she was here, she could tell what I was thinking.
        She felt my pain. She always knew my pain, so she was in pain. I hurt her. I was a nuisance to everyone I was close to. No wonder I was unloved.
        Elizabeth found me in the bedroom. "Oh, Darling," she sighed out, coming to sit next to me, and pulling me in for a hug. I tried to pull away, to make her not feel what I did, but she kept a tight hold o me.
        "Just leave me. I don't deserve you here. I deserve to burn and be reduced to the miserable pile of ashes that I am."
        She gasped.
        "No, you don't!" Elizabeth hugged me tighter as I cried.
        "I might as well. Maybe then, I'd get away from all my pain."
        "Darling, I'm sorry you feel this way. I know you're hurting, but never ever say that you don't deserve to live." She sounded so appalled.
        Again, she was right. I was so selfish and ungrateful. I started to weep again, sputtering apologies that made me feel only worse.
        Elizabeth shushed me. "It's okay. You're okay."
        I wasn't as strong as I used to be. I've been reduced to a blubbering mess.
        "Please. Help me," I pleaded.
        "What do you want me to do?" she asked softly while stroking my hair.
        "Heal me."