A New Cullen Sister

Chapter 43

By late Thursday morning, Carlisle and Esme were growing concerned for their daughter whose carefree behaviour of the previous afternoon was long gone, replaced by a quiet and somewhat unresponsive teenager. Amelia had never been a moody teenager, the only time she had ever shown a hint of teenager stroppiness was her first week with them after they had debated the cinema trip, but even that was short-lived and she had removed herself from the discussion before she snapped at her family, exiting the house to let out her frustration before retreating to her bedroom to do homework and immerse herself in her music. This depressive state, albeit predicted by Alice, was so unlike her. 

"Hey Mia bug," tried Esme, adopting the nickname that the nursing staff had bestowed upon Amelia back in New York. Amelia lay on her side, staring into space. Esme figuratively scratched her head in uncertainty. It was just the two of them, Carlisle had been called away to tend to a patient in the emergency room. Esme was determined to get a reaction out of Amelia other than her frequent coughing which permeated the silence, and she was also determined to remain upbeat and happy in order to coax her daughter out of her protective cocoon and back into the present.

"Your cousins from Denali have arrived for a visit. There's Eleazar and Carmen, they're kind of like Carlisle and me I suppose. Then there's Kate and Tanya, who are sisters. There was a third sister, Irina, but she died a little while back. Lastly there is Garrett, who is Kate's mate. He was a nomad until recently. Tanya is the coven leader. They are looking forward to meeting you."

Dead silence greeted Esme. She sighed softly, before moving her chair to the side Amelia was facing. She stared at her daughter. Her face seemed impossibly pale, Amelia really hadn't been exaggerating when she said that she was paler than her siblings and parents. Her green eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were glassy and dull. Amelia's pupils were dilated, a sure sign that the opioids were partially responsible for her state. Her dark hair was limp and knotted and needed a wash. Amelia had lost all of the weight that she and Esme had fought so hard to gain, and then some. She was literally and figuratively wasting away in front of them. Esme picked up Amelia's free hand and linked their fingers, squeezing her daughter's hand gently. There was still no response. She briefly wondered if her daughter could actually hear her – she gave no indication at all that she was even the slightest bit aware that Esme was in her room.

"Tomorrow is your birthday," she tried again, "we had to cancel your party I'm afraid but we will have one when you get out of here, how does that sound?"

Finally there was a response. A flicker of emotion ran through her eyes. Amelia's eyes darted to her mother for a split second and went back to staring into space. It happened so quickly that Esme briefly wondered if she had imagined it.

"I'm really sorry that your party had to be cancelled, I know you were looking forward to it. We all were. I know your friends are quite disappointed too, but they are worried about you and just want you to get better soon. There's always next year's birthday, right? It'll be your first one as one of us, won't that be grand?" she continued.

While Esme was speaking, she didn't immediately notice the single tear that slowly made its way down Amelia's fragile cheekbone. When she did, she watched it halt at the nasal cannula, before moving beneath it to course its way to the bottom of her jaw and drip onto her pillow. Amelia locked eyes briefly with her mother, blinking back the tears before shutting her eyes for the last time. The tears continued to flow freely, but Amelia fell asleep anyway.

Esme wiped the tears from her face and ran her fingers gently along her daughter's face, tracing her bones, every angle and curve, committing them to memory. She kissed her daughter's forehead.