Edward's Point Of View
The living room froze. It wasn't just quiet anymore; the air itself seemed to have been sucked from the space, leaving all of us choking on the silence that pressed against our chests like a physical weight. The grandfather clock in the corner had stopped its ticking… or perhaps I simply couldn't hear it over the roaring in my ears.
I stared at Charles Silvestro, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my temples. Behind him, my mother was still recovering her breath, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. Her eyes were red and puffy from tears she'd been holding back for decades, tears that had carved invisible channels down her face over the years.
