Sarelle is a ordinary 9 year old girl in 1910. However, one night she becomes an involuntary time traveller. She can't decide where she goes or when she leaves. How will her encounters with the Cullens effect their lives?
DeepCrimson91
Edward Cullen
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Sarelle. I'm here, you're safe." His melodious voice soothed the screeching pain that stabbed at me. I couldn't escape the screams, the anger, the regret, the guilt, so each left a wound on my soul that seethed in the aftermath. They had hurt during 'the event', but now, in this silence, there was nothing to distract me from how they made me feel. I could experience every single one of them with excruciating clarity.
I could feel my body shaking against my saviour's stone cold figure, but it wasn't from the cool temperature. My mind was still filled with the horror of what had happened. I could still feel the creeping hands of the vile men on my skin.
My world spun in slow motion as I felt myself continue to fall to pieces. It almost felt as if the attack had frozen me to ice and now I was melting, freeing every emotion to race around my body like running water.
I was in shock but I couldn't find a way for me to rid my blood of the excess adrenaline, so I let myself slip into the darkness it beckoned me with.
Only the echoes of screams, and whispers of hate, followed me in to my self-imprisonment.
My abyss.
That was how it had to be. I had to draw the horror back down to the dark depth of my psyche, just as I had with Ashton's attack.
The difference with this task was that it seemed so much more impossible. I had to battle through every second of the attack to find my way to that place in my mind where the nightmare couldn't hurt me, that special part of my brain where the memories just faded into the darkness.
For the first time in my life I welcomed the darkness.
I used to fear it.
I used to hate the way it crept over me and tortured my brain with ghoulish images. However, now I wanted the darkness, because the ghouls and monsters were less scary than the nightmare I had just endured.
So as I stood in Aslo's arms, I began the emotional battle of forgetting the unforgivable. I was going to hide the nightmare so that it would never to be thought of again.
It took hours for my shaking body to still and my fractured breathing to return to its normal pattern.
Throughout the long bleak hours Aslo never let me go.
He never winced at my scent or proximity, and he never forced me to leave the safety of his arms. He just let me be and waited in silence.
Eventually, I peeled my aching body away from him and found myself to be sitting in his lap.
He had moved us from our original position to instead sit in the plain metal chair that sat behind his bland wooden desk.
My eyes felt heavy and stiff. I had cried them dry, and I could imagine the red rims that would make my hazel eyes look puffy and raw.
