Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van’s body.
“How did you get over here so fast?” Bella Swan
When they’d lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car’s bumper — a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edward’s shoulders… as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame… I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen — a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane.
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