Stephenie Meyer Quote
My arms broke free from my control. My left hand reached for his face, his hair, to wind my fingers in it. My right hand was faster, was not mine. Melanie's fist punched his jaw, knocked his face away from mine with a blunt, low sound. Flesh against flesh, hard and angry. The force of it was not enough to move him far, but he scrambled away from me the instant our lips were no longer connected, gaping with horrorstruck eyes at my horrorstruck expression. I stared down at the still-clenched fist, as repulsed as if I'd found a scorpion growing on the end of my arm. A gasp of revulsion choked its way out of my throat. I grabbed the right wrist with my left hand, desperate to keep Melanie from using my body for violence again. I glanced up at Jared. He was staring at the fist I restrained, too, the horror fading, surprise taking its place. In that second, his expression was entirely defenseless. I could easily read his thoughts as they moved across his unlocked face. This was not what he had expected. And he's had expectations; that was plain to see. This had been a test. A test he'd thought he was prepared to evaluate. But he'd been surprised.Did that mean pass or fail? The pain in my chest was not a surprise. I already knew that a breaking heart was more than an exaggeration. In a flight-or-fight situation, I never had a choice; it would always be flight for me. Because Jared was between me and the darkness of the tunnel exit, I wheeled and threw myself into the box-packed hole. I was sobbing because it had been a test, and, stupid, stupid, stupid, emotional creature that I was, I wanted it to be real.Melanie was writhing in agony inside me, and it was hard to make sense of the double pain. I felt as thought I was dying because it wasn't real; she felt as though she was dying because, to her, it had felt real enough. In all that she'd lost since the end of the world, so long ago, she'd never before felt betrayed. 'No one's betrayed you, stupid,' I railed at her. 'How could he? How?' she ranted, ignoring me. We sobbed beyond control. One word snapped us back from the edge of hysteria.From the mouth of the hole, Jared's low, rough voice - broken and strangely childlike - asked, Mel?Mel? he asked again, the hope he didn't want to feel colouring his tone. My breath caught in another sob, an aftershock. You know that was for you, Mel. You know that. Not for h- it. You know I wasn't kissing it. If you're in there, Mel... He paused.Melanie hated the if. A sob burst up through my lungs and I gasped for air. I love you, Jared said. Even if you're not there, if you can't hear me, I love you.
My arms broke free from my control. My left hand reached for his face, his hair, to wind my fingers in it. My right hand was faster, was not mine. Melanie's fist punched his jaw, knocked his face away from mine with a blunt, low sound. Flesh against flesh, hard and angry. The force of it was not enough to move him far, but he scrambled away from me the instant our lips were no longer connected, gaping with horrorstruck eyes at my horrorstruck expression. I stared down at the still-clenched fist, as repulsed as if I'd found a scorpion growing on the end of my arm. A gasp of revulsion choked its way out of my throat. I grabbed the right wrist with my left hand, desperate to keep Melanie from using my body for violence again. I glanced up at Jared. He was staring at the fist I restrained, too, the horror fading, surprise taking its place. In that second, his expression was entirely defenseless. I could easily read his thoughts as they moved across his unlocked face. This was not what he had expected. And he's had expectations; that was plain to see. This had been a test. A test he'd thought he was prepared to evaluate. But he'd been surprised.Did that mean pass or fail? The pain in my chest was not a surprise. I already knew that a breaking heart was more than an exaggeration. In a flight-or-fight situation, I never had a choice; it would always be flight for me. Because Jared was between me and the darkness of the tunnel exit, I wheeled and threw myself into the box-packed hole. I was sobbing because it had been a test, and, stupid, stupid, stupid, emotional creature that I was, I wanted it to be real.Melanie was writhing in agony inside me, and it was hard to make sense of the double pain. I felt as thought I was dying because it wasn't real; she felt as though she was dying because, to her, it had felt real enough. In all that she'd lost since the end of the world, so long ago, she'd never before felt betrayed. 'No one's betrayed you, stupid,' I railed at her. 'How could he? How?' she ranted, ignoring me. We sobbed beyond control. One word snapped us back from the edge of hysteria.From the mouth of the hole, Jared's low, rough voice - broken and strangely childlike - asked, Mel?Mel? he asked again, the hope he didn't want to feel colouring his tone. My breath caught in another sob, an aftershock. You know that was for you, Mel. You know that. Not for h- it. You know I wasn't kissing it. If you're in there, Mel... He paused.Melanie hated the if. A sob burst up through my lungs and I gasped for air. I love you, Jared said. Even if you're not there, if you can't hear me, I love you.
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About Stephenie Meyer
An avid young reader, Meyer attended Brigham Young University, marrying at the age of 21 before graduating with a degree in English literature in 1997. Having no prior experience as an author, she conceived the idea for the Twilight series in a dream. Influenced by the work of Jane Austen and William Shakespeare, she wrote Twilight soon thereafter. After many rejections, Little, Brown and Company offered her a $750,000 three-book deal which led to a four-book series, two spin-off novels, a novella, and a series of commercially successful film adaptations. Aside from young adult novels, Meyer has ventured into adult novels with The Host (2008) and The Chemist (2016). She has worked in film production and co-founded production company Fickle Fish Films, producing both parts of Breaking Dawn, the Twilight film series' finale, and two other novel adaptations.
Meyer's membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints shaped her novels. Themes consistent with Meyer's religion, including agency, mortality, temptation, and eternal life, are prominent in her work. Critics have called Meyer's writing style overly simplistic, but her stories have also received praise, and she has acquired a fan following.
Meyer was included on Time magazine's list of the top 100 most influential people in 2008 and Forbes's list of the top 100 most powerful celebrities in 2009, with her annual earnings exceeding $50 million.