This is a fanfiction I wrote on my favorite Twilight-couple Carlisle and Esme. It is the epilogue to one of my stories called “a special patient” and the prologue to its sequel “a special world”. It takes places in 1921, when Esme decides to end her life and how Carlisle found her again…

Well, I hope you enjoy!

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” T.S. Elliot

1921, Ashland, Wisconsin

Esme’s POV

I stared at the tiny bundle in my arms. My son. He was so beautiful. His tiny hands and fingers, his cute little face, these round blue eyes which were now closed, forever closed. Another sob rose in my throat but no tears fell. I had cried too much in these last hours. I had no more tears to shed. My son was dead, my only reason to live…

I had given birth to him only a few days ago. My beautiful baby boy… He was perfect and strong. But then he started to get a fever. I was worried sick and took him to the hospital but I couldn’t pay a doctor. I waited for hours while my little boy got weaker and weaker in my arms. I was suffering as much as he was. I saw how he struggled for every breath and I would do everything to ease his suffering but I was powerless.

After hours a doctor finally examined my baby but the diagnosis was devastating. He had a lung infection and would probably not make it through the night. I broke down right then. I had nothing else in this life. Only him, my son, my Carl. I had run away from my husband to protect him from a cruel life full of violence and now I realised that I had failed at that also. I had failed at protecting my son. I had no chance to help him. I couldn’t pay a doctor or medicine. The doctor told me that even if I had money there would be no way to save my baby but I felt so useless, knowing I could do nothing. I couldn’t even try to save him. What kind of mother was I?

The doctor took pity on me and took me to a room where I could stay overnight. I held my son in my arms these last hours, telling him stories of my childhood, sang to him, tried to ease his suffering with my love for him. I even told him about the man he was named after. The angel I met when I was sixteen, who I spent the best days of my life with. I didn’t know why I chose this name for my son, perhaps because I wished to have something to keep my memories alive or because I wanted to name my son after the best person I had ever met so I could tell him about the doctor and create an idol for him, or perhaps because I secretly wished that this doctor was the father of my boy.

With every minute that passed the breaths of my little Carl became more laboured. His breath was ragged and it pierced my heart to hear him suffer. I shed countless tears while I held him and cooed to him, trying to calm him down. It was over before the first rays of sunlight could be seen over the horizon.

I held my little one for hours, rocking his dead body in my arms while my body shook with sobs and tears streamed down my face. I cradled him against my body until the nurses came and took him from my arms. I didn’t let go easy but the doctor finally managed to get hold of my boy’s body. The nurse stayed to comfort me but I wasn’t feeling pain anymore. I felt nothing. I was numb. Empty. My only reason for living – gone. I had failed at everything in life. I disappointed my parents as a child, I was a horrible wife and now my child died… I wasn’t even capable of being a mother…

A nurse was accompanying me home. The doctor was worried and didn’t want me to be alone. I didn’t object. Nothing mattered anymore. I was just an empty sheath. My soul had died right along with my little boy. After arriving in my shabby one-room apartment I simply sat down on the bed and stared at the wall, but I didn’t see anything. Not really. I didn’t even notice how and when the nurse left. I didn’t feel anything. I was dead, mentally at least.

Outside the day slowly changed into night and a decision formed in my head. I was alone now, I had no money, nothing to live for… My life was not worth living. I stood up and left the apartment, not even bothering to put on a coat. I wouldn’t need it. Not where I was going…

I stumbled through the city without seeing anything. Once or twice I bumped into someone, but I didn’t look up, I didn’t apologise, I just kept going.

After a while I came to the outskirts of the city and followed a stony path up the hills. The wind ripped at my dress and I was probably freezing, the sharp stones stabbed into my feet, but I didn’t feel any of it.

I arrived at the top of the cliffs. Underneath me were razor sharp rocks against which the waves crashed. The sun was just setting in the west. Everything was bathed in a red light. It was perfect. The end of the day would also be the end of her suffering. I stepped closer to the edge, looking down. About 50 feet below me the waves flooded a narrow beach before they crashed against sharp rocks. I stood on the very edge of the cliff and took a shuddering breath. The sun was casting a red light over everything. For one last time I pictured two faces before my eyes – the tiny face of my son and the face of my angel, Carlisle; then I stepped into thin air…

Curious how it goes on? Read the full chapter here!

PS: And if you do, please leave me a review… Thx!

PPS: And if you are curious for more… you can read my first story about how Carlisle and Esme first met in 1911 here!