When I Write A Story, It's Not

Because There Was Nothing More Terrifying To Me, More Excruciating, Than The Thought Of Turning Away From Him. It Was An Impossibility.

You’re Not Asleep, And You’re Not Dead. I’m Here, And I Love You. I Have Always Loved You, And I Will Always Love You. I Was Thinking Of You, Seeing Your Face In My Mind, Every Second That I Was Away. When I Told You That I Didn’t Want You, It Was The Very Blackest Kind Of Blasphemy.

Don't Take Too Long, Mrs. Cullen

It Was Very Strange, For I Knew We Were Both In Mortal Danger. Still, In That Instant, I Felt Well. Whole. I Could Feel My Heart Racing In My Chest, The Blood Pulsing Hot And Fast Through My Veins Again. My Lungs Filled Deep With The Sweet Scent That Came Off His Skin. It Was Like There Had Never Been Any Hole In My Chest. I Was Perfect - Not Healed, But As If There Had Been No Wound In The First Place.

He Thinks Things Through Too Much.