Edward Cullen Character Analysis

“They’re all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins—the blondes—and they’re foster children.”

“They look a little old for foster children.”

“They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.”

“That’s really kind of nice—for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they’re so young and everything.”

“I guess so,” Jessica admitted reluctantly […] “I think that Mrs. Cullen can’t have any kids, though,” she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

“No, she did not send me here. I sent myself.”

[…]

“She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy…so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie.” My voice was glum by the time I finished.

“But now you’re unhappy,” he pointed out.

“And?” I challenged.

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“You’re dangerous?” I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words. He was dangerous. He’d been trying to tell me that all along.

He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn’t comprehend.

“But not bad,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, I don’t believe that you’re bad.”

And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn’t know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew—if I knew—I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now. Even if…but I couldn’t think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest.

“I followed you to Port Angeles,” he admitted, speaking in a rush. […] He paused. I wondered if it should bother me that he was following me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure.

“I decided it didn’t matter,” I whispered.

“It didn’t matter?” His tone made me look up—I had finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I’d feared.

“No,” I said softly. “It doesn’t matter to me what you are.”

A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. “You don’t care if I’m a monster? If I’m not human?”

“No.”

“Don’t let that make you complacent, though,” he warned me. “They’re right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We try,” he explained slowly. “We’re usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you.”

“This is a mistake?” I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn’t know if he could as well.

“A very dangerous one,” he murmured.

“I care the most, because if I can do it”—he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought— “if leaving is the right thing to do, then I’ll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe.”

I glared. “And you don’t think I would do the same?”

“You’d never have to make the choice.”

I intuitively knew—and sensed he did, too—that tomorrow would be pivotal. Our relationship couldn’t continue to balance, as it did, on the point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon his decision, or his instincts. My decision was made, made before I’d ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more excruciating, than the thought of turning away from him. It was an impossibility.

“No one knows you’re with me?” Angrily, now.

“That depends…I assume you told Alice?”

“That’s very helpful, Bella,” he snapped.

I pretended I didn’t hear that.

“Are you so depressed by Forks that it’s made you suicidal?” he demanded when I ignored him.

“You said it might cause trouble for you…us being together publicly,” I reminded him.

His white shirt was sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so the smooth white skin of his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect musculature no longer merely hinted at behind concealing clothes. He was too perfect, I realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was no way this godlike creature could be meant for me.

“I don’t want you to leave,” I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.

“Which is exactly why I should. But don’t worry. I’m essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should.”

“I’m glad.”

“Don’t be!” He withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice was harsher than usual. […] It was hard to keep up—his sudden mood changes left me always a step behind, dazed.

“When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn’t been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.” He paused, scowling at the trees.

He glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. “You must have thought I was possessed.”

“I couldn’t understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…”

“To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me.”

“You already know how I feel, of course,” I finally said. “I’m here…which, roughly translated, means I would rather die than stay away from you.” I frowned. “I’m an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” he agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a moment.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb….,” he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.

“You spied on me?” But somehow I couldn’t infuse my voice with the proper outrage. I was flattered.

“For almost ninety years I’ve walked among my kind, and yours…all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you weren’t alive yet.”

“The others—the majority of our kind who are quite content with our lot—they, too, wonder at how we live. But you see, just because we’ve been…dealt a certain hand…it doesn’t mean that we can’t choose to rise above—to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity we can.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“You are my life now,” he answered simply.

“His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves…and vampires.”

“One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again.”

“I was prepared to feel…relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn’t expect to feel more than that. I like it. It makes me…happy.”

“You have saved me,” he said quietly.

“I can’t always be Lois Lane,” I insisted. “I want to be Superman, too.”

[…]

“Do you wish Carlisle hadn’t saved you?”

“No, I don’t wish that.” He paused before continuing. “But my life was over. I wasn’t giving anything up.”

“You are my life. You’re the only thing it would hurt me to lose.” I was getting better at this. It was easy to admit how much I needed him.

His eyebrows rose. “Is that what you dream about? Being a monster?”

“Not exactly,” I said, frowning at his word choice. Monster, indeed. “Mostly I dream about being with you forever.”