HER GUARDIAN'S ANGEL
Bella tripped on the front porch steps, and though it was hardly the first time, this particular misstep owed nothing to her regular, god-given clumsiness. Her right knee collided with the edge of one of the top steps, and she hissed in fresh pain. She gripped the railing with one hand while holding her mangled blouse closed with the other, taking a moment to catch her breath and wait for her vision to stop swimming. After a long moment, she pulled herself up the rest of the steps and staggered across the porch to the front door. Her free hand instinctively sought out her purse, but she then remembered that it was no longer slung over her shoulder.
It has to be in his car, she thought dimly, squeezing her eyes shut. She hadn't grabbed it in her haste to flee.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…
Bella punched her small fist against the front door, only once, not really knocking as she knew no one else was home this evening. She had no idea what time it was. She tried to recall what the glowing dashboard clock had read, but she couldn't allow her derailed train of thought to backtrack just yet. She had plenty of time to fall apart once she got into the damn house.
But there was no getting in without her keys. She punched the door again, out of frustration, and took a wobbly step backwards. She stumbled and her waist hit the porch railing. She leaned heavily against it before sliding slowly down to the hardwood boards, now sitting with her back to the street, her legs curled up beneath her, her hands now both clutching her blouse closed. Her fucking jacket was also in his fucking car with her fucking purse.
It wasn't quite chilly enough to allow her to see her breath in the air, but it was close. A light rain was beginning to fall in the form of a hazy mist that was intensifying by the moment. In a way, the drizzle & cold air felt soothing against her skin, especially her legs, left exposed beneath the ridiculously short plaid skirt Alice had talked her into wearing on her 'Very special first college date!' At least she had compromised on the rest of the outfit, allowing Bella to wear her black Doc Martens and a ¾ sleeved white blouse. It was Bella's favorite blouse. Or it WAS.
She hesitantly allowed her eyes to wander down, dropping her head slowly, mentally preparing herself. She had a vague idea of what she must look like, but actually gazing down at herself brought the reality of it all perilously closer. Her blouse was torn open, almost all of the little pearly buttons now gone. Her pale blue lace bra was still intact, and she clenched the fitted blouse closed with both hands to make sure it was completely covered. Her forearms were already beginning to darken with bruises, along with several minor scrapes and scratches. Her bare legs were in worse condition, largely owing to the stumbles she took fleeing from the car and down the darkened streets toward home, and lastly to the collision with the porch step moments ago. Blood was trickling down her calf from her wounded knee, but she knew she was bleeding elsewhere as well. She could feel a small rivulet of blood making its way down the side of her face, from her hairline, above her left eye. She could also taste blood, and upon lifting her shaking fingertips to her mouth, she discovered that her bottom lip had a fairly deep split off to one side. She tried to lick the salty blood away from her lips but only succeeded in restarting the flow. She pressed her lips together firmly to staunch it, and also to keep down the scream that had been lodged in her throat for the past twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes? Could it possibly have happened only twenty minutes ago? The clumsy trek home had seemed to last for hours, but knowing how far she had actually run, she knew it couldn't have been much more than twenty minutes, twenty-five tops.
Twenty minutes ago, she mused numbly, I was Bella Swan, 19, a promising dance student at the Seattle Academy Of the Performing Arts. Best friend of Alice Cullen, honorary baby sister of Emmett and Jasper Cullen, and….she had absolutely no idea what she was to the remaining Cullen. Roommate, of course, like all the others. Friend? Sure. Beyond that…she couldn't bring herself to think about that right now either. It was taxing enough to think about that man on a good day, let alone today…tonight…
Oh God, if any of them saw me like this, especially HIM….
Suddenly realizing that was inevitable, if she continued to sit there like an idiot, she felt panic bubble up in her chest once again and she hauled herself to her unsteady feet. She had to get into the damn house and clean herself up and hide…forever.
Bella looked around frantically for one of the little concrete gnomes Alice insisted on stashing all around their rented house. She located one hiding among the daisies in a hanging flower pot and gave it an apologetic glance before using it to smash one of the small sections of glass that made up the top half of the front door. Of all the windows to smash, this would be the easiest to fix, she thought absently. The glass gave way on the first try, and one of the jagged remnants along the small frame tore an ugly gash along the top of her hand as she retracted it. She barely felt it. She reached through the opening and turned the deadbolt. With a curse and a forceful bump of her hip, she finally got the door open and staggered inside, her boots crunching on the broken glass that now littered the hardwood floor. That's scratching it for sure, she thought absently, wondering if she should call someone tomorrow to come and buff it out. Maybe she could find someone who could fix the window and take care of the floor at the same time. As she began to wonder where they'd left the phone book, she was vaguely aware that her head was now swimming and spinning and pounding all at the same time. Her thoughts were no longer making sense, not even to her. She stood there in the dark living room, the concrete gnome still clutched in her now bloody hand, her gaze roaming over everything around her but focusing on nothing.
After what could have been five minutes or five hours, Bella found the strength to force her legs to move, and made her way jerkily across the living room toward the bathroom. Her already unfocused vision took a sudden barrel-roll, and she had to close her eyes and concentrate on staying on her feet. But for all her efforts, she managed to squint just in time to see the living room floor rushing up toward her.
Edward groaned as he made the mad dash from his car to the porch. The rain was coming down in buckets by now, and it didn't look like it would be letting up any time soon. A sudden clap of thunder loud enough to shake the porch beneath his feet would have made him jump if he wasn't so exhausted. A long day of working at the auto garage with Jasper, Emmett and most of their friends had left him wary and slightly cranky. He had opted out of joining them for drinks tonight, finding himself more in the mood to just have a quiet evening with the house all to himself, which was an extremely rare occurrence. The guys were at the bar, or perhaps making the rounds to several, Alice was working late at the coffee house, and Bella was out with some random douche bag who apparently had the arrogance to approach the most beautiful girl on the planet and ask her out on a date. Beyond that, he knew absolutely nothing about the guy. He'd overheard Alice and Bella discussing her wardrobe plans for the evening, but he hadn't caught any other details, and wasn't sure he wanted to know anyway. Bella didn't date much. Her life was dedicated to her friends, of course, since she didn't have much in the way of family, except for an emotionally retarded father somewhere downstate, but her life was also devoted to dancing. She studied it seriously and she was magnificent. Ballet, club, she could do anything and make it look like she was born knowing how. She even taught ballet to elementary school children for extra cash to pay for the things her dance scholarship didn't cover. He wished he had her discipline. His major was also his life's passion, creative writing, but it hardly entailed him coming home every night with blisters and bruises and strained muscles. Those dancers were tough chicks, especially Bella.
Edward gave his head a shake, sending water droplets spraying in all directions like a dog. He dug in his pocket for his keys and approached the door, where he suddenly froze in his tracks. One of the small panels of glass that made up the top half of the door was busted out. For a long moment he just stared at it, his brows furrowed. Then, instead of trepidation, he felt a sharp jab of annoyance. Their rented house was off campus, which of course meant that they were without the security patrols that most of the other students enjoyed around their dorms, but it was a decent neighborhood and as far as he knew there hadn't been any recent break-ins in the area. Who would rob a bunch of college students? Aside from some computer equipment most of their stuff was junk, and there were far nicer houses on their street.
Growing more irritated by the moment, Edward reached for the knob and found the door slightly ajar. He impatiently sent the door flying in with his knee and scowled into the darkness. He slammed his palm against the bank of light switches on the wall beside the door, but nothing happened. The power was out.
"Goddamnit," he muttered, and cleared his throat. "Alright, if anybody's in here, get your ass out of my house, NOW!"
He listened intently but could only hear the steady rush of the rain outside and the occasional clap of thunder. He groaned and raked his fingers through his hair. He stomped across the broken glass that littered the floor and headed toward the kitchen to find the broom and dust pan. Not much else to do until the power came back on anyway.
Edward stalked past the sitting area and again stopped dead in his tracks. He could have sworn he'd heard something, like a muffled sniffle. Stray dog, wandering in from the rain? Now more puzzled than angry, Edward waited for his eyes to adjust and received a little help from a few flashes of lightning that illuminated the room for a second or two at a time. He definitely saw something move between the couch and the coffee table, and he narrowed his eyes. With the next flash of lightning, he realized what – who – he was looking at, and for a moment just blinked in disbelief.
"Swan?"
Even in the less than helpful lighting, he knew it was her. Her long, wavy, dark auburn hair covered most of her face from his incredulous gaze as she was apparently struggling to sit up with the aid of her palms on the couch and the coffee table. Her too-thin arms – he had always been on her case about not eating enough, damn ballerinas and their coffee diets – couldn't support her own weight and she dropped to the floor again, giving a frustrated gasp as her breath was forced from her lungs.
Edward finally snapped out of his open-mouthed shock and bent to reach for her. His hands closed around the back of her arms, gripping her through the thin silky material of her blouse. The fabric was damp from the rain, so she couldn't have been home for very long. He rolled his eyes as he tried to haul her up without being too rough.
"God, are you hammered, Swan? Let me guess, you forgot your keys at some fucking bar? So, Mr. Wonderful Blind Date Dude left your stranded with no way to get in?" At least he didn't stick around to take advantage of you being blind drunk, he added to himself. He'd much rather come home to a busted window and an amusingly wasted Bella.
Bella's body gave a jerk, as if she hadn't heard him speak at all, only becoming aware of his presence when she felt his hands on her arms. She suddenly began to fight him, her boots sliding around on the floor, trying to find traction where there was none. Rainwater was rolling off of Edward as well, creating a growing puddle on the floor beneath them.
"Hey, hey, STOP IT!" he grunted. She weighed nothing, but she was slippery, and he didn't want to drop her on her face. "What's your problem, Swan? I'm trying to help your drunk ass!"
She refused to be still for him, and he found himself on one knee, pulling her back to his chest, waiting for her to calm down before attempting to move her again. He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her own to her chest, noticing that she was ice cold and shaking like a fucking leaf.
"Were the hell's your jacket? Left that at the bar too? Class act, this jackass you were out with. Probably just liked how you looked in a soaking wet white blouse," he snorted.
Bella's struggle resumed with surprising vigor, and she almost jerked free of his arms. He easily subdued her again and managed to push her wet weighty hair to one side. She snapped her head to the side to face away from him, toward the picture window, beyond which the storm outside was now raging. Thunder shook the house every few seconds, but even between the booming claps he could feel her little body rattling all on its own.
"Swan, what the hell's wrong with you? Look, I'm not copping a feel, I just want to get you up off the floor before you hurl all over it. I mean, you already ruined the entryway with all the fucking broken glass. Great idea, by the way, ever heard of running to a neighbors house to use their fucking phone? We all have cells, that's what they're for. Let me guess, yours is wherever your jacket and your keys are? Smooth move, Swan. Genius, really. Now get the hell up and into the bathroom because we both know there's puking in your near future. C'mon, I'll take you. Quit being such a stubborn bitch and let me help you for once. I promise, I won't tell anyone that you stooped low enough to let Edward Cullen actually assist you with something."
Even with the awkward positioning of her arms, she managed to grab for the edges of her blouse and desperately pull them together. Edward swallowed a low chuckle as he tried once again to lift them both to their feet.
"Give it up, Swan, I think the dignity ship has sailed for the evening. Besides, don't flatter yourself. Being a fucking twig doesn't leave much to look at in the tit department anyway," he lied.
The fighting instinct in her resumed yet again, and he wondered where the hell she was finding any remaining reserve of strength. He hauled her up, still clutching her back to his chest, and with her arms pinned she began to kick wildly in the air, landing the occasional strike to his shins with the heels of her boots. It was sort of cute.
"Swan, STOP IT!" He was beginning to lose his patience. He was exhausted, soaking wet, and impatiently pissed off.
When he raised his voice at her, her body shuddered with a small convulsion, and he realized she was crying.
"Oh, shit," he muttered more quietly, standing with his feet planted while waiting for her to tire herself out and give up. His height combined with her struggles kept her own feet off the floor, and he held her up entirely, not completely unhappy to do so. Even soaking wet, pissed off, freezing cold, shaking like a leaf and attempting to kick the shit out of him, he couldn't help but savor the feeling of her in his arms. It was definitely the first and probably the last chance he would ever have to do so.
But when he realized she was crying, that changed everything. He didn't do well with crying women, especially this one. He had never seen Bella cry before. She was the strong, level-headed member of their little group. She had a bit of a temper, an adorable one in fact, especially when directed at him, which was most of the time, but he knew she didn't like anyone to see her upset. For whatever reason, it just wasn't in her nature. For the first time, he began to suspect that these were something more than drunken tears.
"Are you done now?" he asked her quietly, his mouth close to her ear. "I shouldn't have yelled at you." This was as close to an apology as he had ever made, especially to her. He wasn't sure she even heard him. She continued to kick, and her small frame was trembling even more now in his arms. As the fight drained out of her, panic seemed to be taking over instead. He was bewildered.
"All right, come on," he growled, giving up any remaining hope of extracting actual words from her. He strode across the living room to the bathroom, still holding her at least a foot off the ground, growling again when he remembered the power was out, and without windows it was even darker than the rest of the house. He shifted her against his side, holding her up with one arm while he dug through the medicine cabinet with his free hand. Alice always kept girly scented candles in there for when she took baths, and he managed to locate one, setting it on the edge of the bathtub before locating a lighter in his pocket. Luckily, the rain had not ruined it, and he managed to light the candle with one hand while still clutching Bella.
She was still faced away from him, of course, but for the first time he caught their images in the medicine cabinet's mirror. Even in the dim, flickering candlelight, he could plainly see that something was very, very wrong. He stood stock still, frozen in place, and after a moment, her eyes caught their reflections as well, and she also went rigidly still. For a long moment, their eyes locked, through the mirror.
Her head was bleeding from her hairline, nose and mouth. The entire left side of her face as a dark burgundy and beginning to swell, especially around her eye. Her lips were caked with blood. More blood had dripped down into one eye, causing her to squint slightly. Her throat had a patchwork pattern of darkening bruises, her collarbone as well. She was still clutching her blouse closed, and he noticed that it no longer had buttons. Her hands were scraped and battered, and one hand had an ugly gash along the top that looked fresher than the others. The blood from her face and hand was running down into her once-white blouse, leaving dark bloody stains around her collar and sleeves. She was breathing hard and fast, partially due to the fierce struggle she had been giving him, but also due to terror, which he was seeing in her eyes for the very first time. As much as tears seemed out of character for Bella Swan, fear seemed even more so. His own heart was now pounding even harder than hers, and he could even feel it against her body as he unintentionally tightened his grip on her.
Edward realized he'd been holding his own breath, and as he exhaled shakily she tore her eyes away from his and bowed her head so that her hair fell forward again, curtaining her battered face on both sides.
"What happened to you?" he finally managed to grate out. His own voice sounded strangely unfamiliar to him, heavy and hollow at the same time.
Bella tried once again to push his arms away, but he kept her firmly against his body, his other arm now returning to wrap around her middle. He felt her wince suddenly and he loosened his grip just a little, but still had no intention of letting her go. He slowly lowered her just enough to allow her feet to touch the tiled floor, and her legs shook wildly at the sensation. He let her stand but refused to allow her to support any of her own weight. Her breathing was ragged and labored, and he realized that she had to be in more than a little physical pain.
"What happened to you, Bella?" he asked again, using her first name for the first time…EVER.
"Let me go, Edward," she whispered, her tiny voice barely reaching his ears.
"Why, so you can face-plant on the bathroom floor? Alice would have my ass," he joked awkwardly, unsure what to say now. She didn't respond, but her fingers began to dig into his forearms, not enough to hurt him, only to reinforce her desire to be free of his hold, in case he didn't already know.
"Look," he said in a low, slow tone, "if I let go of you, you'll hit the floor like a ton of bricks. Well, a hundred pounds worth of bricks, however many that is. Now, just shut up and let me help you. First, tell me everywhere you're hurt, and second, tell me what the fuck happened to you tonight?"
She ignored both questions, still pushing against his arms in desperate futility. He sighed and carefully maneuvered them around so he could sit her gently on the edge of the bathtub. He sat beside her for a moment, until she could find her balance, and carefully moved to squat down before her. Her hands continued to hold her mangled blouse closed, and her knees were crushed together, probably mindful of her short plaid skirt that left most of her endless legs open to his gaze. Her calves were trembling horribly and she bounced her legs just a bit, probably to try and conceal the tremors. Her eyes were everywhere but on his, and she finally fixed them on the floor between them.
"Where," he asked impatiently, trying to keep his voice down. He was now feeling a bit of panic himself. More than a bit.
"I don't need your help," he hissed through her teeth, her eyes still locked on the tiled floor. "Just hand me the box of band-aids and get the hell out of here. I'll sweep up the glass when I'm done. Just go to bed. And don't breathe a word of this to ANYONE."
Edward stared at her as if she'd lost her mind, which she very probably had. Bella scrunched her eyes shut and swayed a little on the edge of the tub. She started to lean to the side and Edward grabbed her before she could fall in either direction. When her eyes opened they were glassy and slightly out of focus. She blinked rapidly and tried to make sense of her surroundings. Every bit of color had drained from her face, except from where she was injured. Edward held onto her upper arms and crawled even closer, kneeling so that her shaky knees were pressed to his chest, and his face was inches from hers.
"Listen to me, Swan," he growled quietly. His grip on her arms was probably uncomfortable for her but he desperately needed to gain her full attention. "I'm not going anywhere. You're hurt, probably more than you realize. Now, either you let me have a look at you, or I call 911 and total strangers can barge in here and do it. Your choice."
Bella straightened up immediately, her eyes widened and her features trembling with renewed panic. "No! No, Edward, don't do that! Don't call anyone! I don't want to see anyone! I want to be alone! I don't even want to see YOU! So just get the hell away from me!"
She was finally full-on crying now, looking at him with pleading desperation as she begged him to leave. Edward clenched his jaw and simply shook his head.
"It's me or the paramedics, sweetheart. Again, your choice."
Bella's eyes scrunched closed again and she gave a barely perceptible nod. Relieved, but still gripped by a vicious assault of emotions all his own, he gently but firmly wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other slipped behind her knees. He carefully lifted her into his arms and lowered her very slowly into the empty tub. Now she couldn't fall if she blacked out, which she nearly had a moment ago. He gently eased her down so the back of her head rested against the edge of the tub, her thick hair cushioning the contact. He gingerly threaded his fingers through her damp, tangled hair, feeling for any bumps or cuts concealed from his view. Finding none, except for the still-bleeding gash at her hairline, he blew out a breath of relief. At least she probably didn't have any serious head injuries. His thoughts turned to possible internal injuries, which could be just as bad, if not worse. His father was a physician so he knew that much for sure. He cupped her forehead with one large palm and swallowed the lump throbbing in his throat.
"Bella," he said quietly, until she looked up at him with bleary eyes. "I need to know…did you take any…damage to the abdomen? To the chest? I need to know if you might have internal injuries."
She looked away from him again, her unfocused eyes locked on her boots. He would have given anything to know exactly what was transpiring in her head at that moment. She finally have a small shake of her head, wincing at her own movement. He smoothed her hair back from her eyes and she flinched, moving away from him as best she could in the confined space.
"Are you sure?"
Her breathing was picking up speed, and every ragged breath was shallow and painful-looking. She once again refused to look at him, but he could practically feel her over-stimulated awareness of his presence. She gave another tiny nod and he slowly rose to his feet, finding it nearly impossible to take his eyes off of her. He debated calling 911 anyway, but he had a feeling that she was being truthful with what little information she had provided him. She was terrified, sure, and obviously wanted him to be anywhere else but there, with him, but he knew that lying wasn't her style. She'd much more likely keep her mouth shut, which she now appeared hell-bent on doing.
Edward moved back to the medicine cabinet, pulling out anything that looked first-aid related. He also grabbed a couple of clean washcloths and held them under the tap until the water was hot enough. As he waited, he watched Bella out of the corner of his eye. She simply sat there in the empty tub, still holding her blouse together, her hair back over her face, as she tried to hide behind it. She raised a badly trembling hand to her mouth and fingered her split lip, and then clapped her entire hand over her mouth as she began to rock slightly back and forth.
Edward returned to the edge of the tub, unfolding the wet washcloths, and watched what little part of her face he could see. She was swallowing sob after sob, her eyes clenched shut, obviously trying to resist her oncoming breakdown. He wished she wouldn't. Whatever had happened, it had obviously been horrific, and she needed to let loose. He regretted that his presence made her want to stifle it, and again his mind began to wander toward the list of possibilities. He quickly tried to re-route his thoughts once again, but it was becoming clearer and clearer that something extremely serious had happened. He had a vague suspicion of what, but he didn't let himself acknowledge it fully, not just yet. It could have been something else, maybe a car accident…but a car accident wouldn't rip the buttons from a girl's blouse.
He wrapped the hot, damp washcloth around his hand and carefully pressed it to the gash at her hairline. With her eyes closed, she didn't anticipate the contact, and she gave a sudden shriek as her eyes flew open and she tried to jerk away from him. Startled, Edward watched her shrink away, an impossible task in the confined space of the tub. Her boots and hands scrambled to find purchase on the slick porcelain but of course found none. She ended up in an uncomfortable-looking pose crunched between the sides of the tub, her legs folded up defensively between them, her head shaking back and forth as her eyes closed again, as if hoping she could open them and find everything had been a horrible dream.
"Bella, stop, it's just me, Edward," he said evenly, fighting to keep his own panic out of his voice. "I'm sorry, it's just a washcloth. Your head's still bleeding. I need to make it stop. Can I do that? Can I hold this on your head? Just for a couple of minutes? Then we'll see…." If it needs stitches, he almost said, but knew that she would freak out even more at the prospect of a trip to the hospital. He prayed it wouldn't come to that, but he was fully prepared to carry her out of there kicking and screaming if she needed any medical treatment beyond what he was able to give her.
Her eyes opened just a fraction and she studied him through her thick dark lashes, her breathing even more labored now. With a severely trembling hand she reached and grabbed the cloth from him, and quickly pressed it to her forehead, wincing as she did. He knew she just wanted him to stay away from her, so she was eager to do it herself, and he let her. His eyes wandered down to her free hand, and to the gash across the top if it. It was ugly but didn't look terribly deep, as it had already stopped bleeding. He reached for the other wet cloth and held it up so she could see exactly what he was holding. He nodded toward her wounded hand and held his breath for a long moment before she reluctantly reached for the second cloth.
"I have to do this one," he said gently, reaching for her wrist. She jerked her arm back at his words but he caught her wrist and held it just tightly enough that she couldn't slip out of his grasp. A flicker of panic crossed her features but he forced her eyes to lock with his and held her gaze there until she finally stopped trying to pull free. He carefully wrapped the cloth around her hand, holding it between both of his own. She flinched from the contact and closed her eyes again, her lips moving almost imperceptibly, as if trying to assure herself that none of this was happening.
Now that her gaze was off of him again, Edward allowed a tight grimace to cross his face. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life. He had no idea what to say or what to do, beyond tending to her injuries. He wished feverishly that Alice was home, and debated calling her, but that meant leaving Bella's side. His cell phone was in the living room where he had tossed his keys. He tried to deduce what time it was, and figured that it was around nine, so Alice would be home in a couple of hours. He hoped that Bella would be able to keep it together until her best friend arrived home. He prayed that he wouldn't do anything stupid to make things worse in the meantime. But he was determined to what little he could for her.
Bella's eyes were closed, one hand holding the washcloth to her forehead, the other still clasped in Edward's. He slowly reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear but at the last moment decided against it, and clutched the edge of the tub instead, tightly enough to help him resist touching her again. That sick feeling of helplessness wrenched in his gut again.
"Bella." Her lashes, sparkling with tears in the candlelight, fluttered ever so slightly and he suspected that she was watching him through them. "Are you going to tell me what happened to you? I know you're a world-class klutz, but I doubt you did this to yourself."
His lame attempt at a joke appeared to almost work, as a flicker of a smile flashed across her features, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
"What happened, Bella," he asked again, his tone pleading now. "Did someone do this to you?"
Her back stiffened against the wall of the tub and she tugged her arm back to her body, folding it defensively across her middle. He held the bloody washcloth in his hands, hoping that particular cut was even just a little bit better now. He fought again to lock his gaze with hers, but she wasn't allowing it. He blew out a frustrated breath and ran his eyes down her legs, as they were folded tightly against her, revealing only her knees and shins. Several raw scrapes and forming bruises marred her normally perfect skin, and a small gash on her knee that was already scabbing over. He rose up to rinse out the washcloth and re-wet it under the hot water. He grabbed a can of disinfectant spray he had found in the cabinet and returned to his squatting position beside the tub.
"Bella, let me wipe off your legs and spray some of this on them. There's nothing too serious, but even some of these small wounds can get infected if you don't let me. I won't press hard, I promise."
Without waiting for an answer, which most likely would have been an emphatic NO, he gently pressed the hot, damp washcloth to the various wounds on her legs and knees, carefully pressing and wiping away all of the drying blood. He could tell she was trying not to cry out in pain. Her bottom lip was clenched between her teeth, and he knew that the split in it had to be killing her, but he allowed her to bite back her pain if it kept her calm. This had to be done. She couldn't help the way her body twisted in pain, her clenched knees turning to the side, her back sliding a little down the wall of the tub. He could now see the upper part of her right leg, her thigh, up to the edge of the plaid miniskirt that had most likely been picked out by Alice. Her thigh didn't appear scraped, but he could see large blotches where angry-looking bruises were already forming. He could almost make out the shape of a large hand, as if she had been gripped with brutal force, and right in his gut he was sucker-punched with the absolute certainty that she had.
Without thinking, Edward reached out to trace the bruise with his fingertips, as if to verify his suspicions. In the blink of an eye, he felt Bella's open palm collide with his face in a forceful slap that he should have seen coming. His head snapped to the side with the surprising force of it, almost causing him to lose his balance. He looked back at her with wide eyes, horrified at his own stupidity. Bella dropped the cloth from her head and rose up onto her very shaky legs, clutching the edge of the tub for support. She glared down at Edward, who stayed where he was, not wanting to scare her further.
"Bella," he ground out, "I'm sorry I did that. But you need to sit back down before you hurt yourself."
"Get out!" she shrieked. It seemed to be taking every ounce of her remaining strength to sound forceful, and she was failing miserably. "Get out of here and leave me alone! Don't you EVER touch me again!"
Edward rose to his feet as slowly as he could bear, until he was at her eye-level. Standing in the tub gave her a few more inches of height, and now he was able to face her completely. She still refused to meet his gaze, her eyes locked nervously on his hands, as she struggled to breathe evenly and stay on her feet.
"Bella…" His unruly hand reached for her again, to push some of her hair back from her face, but at the slightest brush of his fingers she inhaled sharply and swung at his arm, knocking it away from her. She gave his shoulder a hard shove and tried to move past him, jumping over the edge of the tub in a frantic effort to escape the small bathroom.
Edward caught her around the waist before she could fall to the tiled floor, and she gave a long, pained moan of frustration. She resumed her earlier fight, now with the aid of her arms, as she slapped and punched him in a frantic effort to free herself.
"Get your hands off me, Cullen! Just let go of me! Don't you ever touch me again!"
"Stop…HITTING…me, Swan!"
"THEN LET GO!"
But he didn't. He couldn't. He shifted her in his arms and twisted her around so her back was to his chest again. She kicked at his shins and clawed at his arms, but his hold on her did not waver. He knew that if he released her she would hurt herself even further. And besides that, he simply didn't want to break their contact. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to hold onto her for as long as he could, whether she liked it or not. Being manhandled was probably her worst nightmare at the moment, but it had to be done. For her sake, and for his.
Edward finally managed to get a hold on her arms again, and then, acting purely on instinct, he stepped back into the bathtub. He lowered them down so that he was sitting with his legs out before him, with Bella seated between them, her back to his chest and her arms wrapped securely in his own. It would be harder for her to squirm away from him in here. She continued to kick and wriggle in his grasp, but he could feel her energy dwindling again, hopefully for a good while this time.
Edward pressed his face into her hair, listening unwillingly as she begged and pleaded to be let go. Normally, he would do just about anything she asked of him, but not this time. She wasn't going anywhere. Her pleas eventually turned into broken sobs, and her frantic movements to escape slowed and nearly ceased. Her legs and hips twisted against him, and her head rocked gently from side to side against his neck. He pressed his mouth to the spot behind her ear, trying to hold her head still with his own.
"Breathe, Bella," he said softly into her hair. He felt her body shudder violently and she couldn't quite swallow the whimper that emerged from her swollen lips. He drew in a deep breath, his chest rising against her, and expelled it just as slowly, hoping she would catch on and join his rhythm. After a few breaths, he could tell that she was trying to do just that. Her small hands clutched at his forearms, and her legs finally went still aside from her constant trembling. Her knees literally knocked together as she kept them raised before her, but at least she was no longer kicking him.
He cradled her like that for who knew how long, just breathing deeply, in and out, silently encouraging her to do the same. Her back was still rigid against him, but he could feel her head begin to loll back against his shoulder, as if fighting to stay awake. He kept his mouth pressed into her hair, behind her ear, and felt a rush of relief that she was at least allowing him to hold her now. She was no longer desperate to get away from him. The realization caused a deep throbbing in his chest that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
He glanced at the scented candle still burning on the corner lip of the tub and saw that it wouldn't last much longer. He hadn't seen any others in the medicine cabinet, but he knew there was a flashlight somewhere in the kitchen. He didn't want her to wake up in the pitch dark with unfamiliar arms around her. He waited a few more minutes, until he was fairly certain she had fallen asleep, and began to very slowly rise up in the tub with her in his embrace. When he was on his feet he lifted her into his arms, bridal style, as before, and carefully stepped out of the tub and out of the bathroom. Her bedroom was upstairs, away from the medicinal supplies of the bathroom, so he gingerly placed her on the large plush sofa in the living room. Outside, the storm was still at its peak, providing frequent flashes of lightning and window-rattling claps of thunder. Hoping it wouldn't wake her, he returned to the bathroom to grab some bandages and disinfectant, and then stopped in the kitchen for the flashlight and also found a few more candles. He set them up on the coffee table and fumbled with his lighter, discovering that his own hands were slightly shaky now as well. He closed his eyes for a long moment to calm himself, and flicked the lighter again.
"No!" Her small, raspy voice nearly spent. It startled him so much he dropped the lighter onto the tabletop and rushed back to her side, kneeling beside the couch, in the very spot where he had discovered her earlier that night. He thought she was objecting to the light, but he realized that she wasn't even awake. She was caught up in the throes of one hell of a nightmare. She raised her arms to shield herself, her hips and legs twisting about on the couch, her head thrashing from side to side. "No, stop it! Don't! I don't want to! Stop it, please!"
Edward grabbed her wrists and held onto to them, trying not to exert too much force. He pinned her arms at either side of her head and leaned closely over her, having difficulty finding his own voice as well. "Bella, it's Edward. Stop! You're safe now. You're home. You're safe, at home, with Edward…and I'm not going to let anything happen to you!"
Bella's eyes snapped open and he felt her sharp intake of breath. He could only imagine how terrifying he must look through her eyes, in the dark, pinning her arms, towering over her, so he kept talking, hoping she would at least recognize his voice.
"Bella," he breathed. "You're ok now. You need to lay still. You're hurt. But you don't have to be scared anymore. Whatever happened, it's all over now. Just breathe, Bella, breathe with me, just like before…Remember before? We breathed together and…it was great."
He rolled his eyes at his own idiocy and gently rubbed her wrists with his thumbs until her arms relaxed. She emitted a choked sob that jerked her entire body and without warning she launched herself into his arms. He grunted in surprise as she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face where it met his shoulder, her tears soaking the collar of his shirt. He brought his arms around her, marveling at how small and fragile she felt against him, and stroked the hair hanging down her back, holding her against him with his other arm around the small of her back.
"Hey, hey, Swan…Bella…it's ok now. Sshh…you're ok now. I SWEAR you're ok now."
Her fingers dug into his hair and she mumbled something against her chest. He leaned back just enough to give her a bit more breathing room. "I didn't quite catch that, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair.
"I said, don't leave me," she squeaked, burying her face in the column of his throat.
The pang of satisfaction he felt was quickly followed by a pang of guilt for feeling anything but horrible at the moment. But he'd never have imagined Bella Swan saying such a thing to him. And he'd also never imagined how much he'd love hearing it.
Suddenly, two distinctly male voices could be heard out on the porch, and Edward quietly cursed to himself. Emmett and Jasper were home from their pub crawl, and Edward and Bella were still cloaked in the darkness of the living room. He twisted around as best he could without letting go of her, and glared at the door, which then swung wide open. The sound of glass crunching under boots was deafening in the otherwise silent house.
Emmett's booming voice seemed to fill the entire world. "Whoa, what the hell? SOMEBODY BROKE INTO OUR FUCKING HOUSE!"
"I saw Eddie's car out there," Jasper added, puzzled. "YO, EDWARD! YOU HERE, MAN?"
Bella's body went rigid in Edward's arms and she pulled back from him, her eyes wide with terror. She began to push away from his chest, and he knew she was feeling the instinct to flee the room. He kept one arm around her and twisted around as best he could to face their other roommates from the couch.
"Guys, I'm right here, shut the hell up!" he hissed.
Emmett smacked the wall light switch several times before groaning and dropping into the recliner across from the couch with a weighty grunt. "Fuckin' storm. I swear you sneeze around this shithole and our fuckin' power goes out."
Jasper grabbed the broom and dustpan from where Edward had abandoned them earlier and started to sweep up the broken glass littering the floor. "What the hell happened? You forget your keys? Ever hear of a cell phone, Doucheward?"
"Guys," he hissed, fighting to keep his voice calm. "You need to keep it down. Bella's here with me, and she's…not feeling great at the moment."
Emmett leaned forward in the recliner and rested his elbows on his knees, his head cocked as he squinted to see her in the darkness. "Aw, hey, Bells, you sick? You want a soda? I got some Mountain Dew in the fridge. Probably warm though, with the power out, but that shit's supposed to be good when you're sick."
Edward held Bella awkwardly, both arms back around her even as her palms remained pressed against his chest. She seemed frozen in place, unsure of what to do. The realization that the guys couldn't see her was probably what kept her still for the moment. Her small hands gripped his shirt in silent desperation.
"You're paying for this fucking window, Edward," Jasper grumbled as he swept. He suddenly paused and looked up in their direction. "Oh, hey, Bells, how was your date? Alice said you were going out with some rich douche from school who finally wore you down."
Her breathing quickened and her hands shoved against Edward's chest again as she adjusted her body to stand. She pulled her legs out from between Edward and the back of the couch and swung them shakily to the floor. Edward grabbed her upper arms and pleaded quietly for her to calm down and stay there with him.
"Let me up, Edward," she whispered frantically, trying to tug her arms out of his grasp.
"Bella, sit back down," he pleaded softly, but firmly.
"What's wrong?" Jasper asked, setting the broom aside to cross the room and perch on the edge of the coffee table. "Did you get sick on your date or something?"
Emmett snorted loudly. "I bet you had a few cocktails to get yourself through it," he laughed. "Was he that insufferable?"
"EDWARD LET GO OF ME!" She yanked away with all of her strength and Jasper caught her before she could hit the floor.
"Whoa, what the hell? Edward, what's your problem, man?"
"Something happened to her," Edward snapped, reaching for her again. "She's hurt, and she won't tell me how it happened!" He was keenly aware that he had just betrayed her, but he was becoming desperate.
Bella jerked away from Jasper as well and made a mad dash to the stairs. Edward ran after her, leaving Jasper and Emmett standing side by side, completely dumbstruck. She made it up only a few steps before her legs gave out, and she braced herself for the impact that never came. Two strong arms wrapped around her middle and hauled her back against a familiar solid body, and she felt her entire body go limp at the contact. She started to cry, to bawl, giving up any last hope of escape and any remaining will to try.
"Edward, I can't do this," she wailed. "I can't do this!"
Edward pressed his mouth to her ear, sweeping her up into his arms to return her to the couch. "Do what, Bella?" She didn't answer, only sobbed against his throat. "You don't have to do anything right now except let me help you. Can you do that for me, please? Just let me help you. Let US help you," he added, shooting a look at his two paralyzed friends.
"What the hell," Emmett murmured, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. "What the fuck happened to her?"
Jasper shot him a look, warning him to shut up. While Edward carefully lowered Bella back onto the couch, Jasper located his own lighter and lit the small group of candles on the coffee table. They didn't offer much in the way of illumination, but it was enough to at least see her more obvious injuries. As the light grew, Bella closed her eyes, as if seeking her own darkness. Heavy rivulets of tears escaped her lashes and Jasper gently reached out to wipe them away. Bella flinched and Edward held his breath, but she simply laid there and cried quietly as the three men watched her every move with baited breaths.
Edward calmly stroked her hair back from her face. "Hand me the box of bandages and the antiseptic spray from the coffee table. Grab that candle that's in the bathroom, too, if it's still burning. We'll need it."
Jasper handed him the first aid supplies and Emmett headed into the bathroom to fetch the extra candle. Jasper picked up the flash light as well and flicked it on as Edward readied the supplies. Emmett returned and knelt down at the end of the couch, behind Bella's head, holding the small dying candle in his giant hands, looking as utterly helpless as they all felt.
Edward silently went to work bandaging Bella's forehead and hand, keeping her legs for last. She seemed to know that was next. Her eyes remained tightly closed, but she began biting down on her lip again, and her brows furrowed together. Edward drew a deep breath and thoughtfully tugged downward on the hem of her skirt, so it covered as much of her legs as possible. Jasper gave him a questioning glance but Edward deflected it, and Jasper simply continued to hold the flashlight so Edward could see what he was doing. He patched up her knee first, and used a few regular band-aids on the smaller cuts and scrapes.
"Emmett, why don't you go grab something for her to wear," he whispered. Emmett set the candle on the table with the others and took off for the stairs, obviously grateful to have another way to help.
Edward finished up and gently wiped a few fresh tears from Bella's cheeks. "Bella," he whispered.
Her damp lashes fluttered and she reluctantly lifted them just enough to gaze up at his face.
"All done," he said with a lopsided smile, as if talking to a small child visiting a doctor's office. The smile quickly faded. "Bella, you have to tell us what happened to you tonight."
At the word 'us', her gaze drifted over to Jasper, who offered her a wan smile of his own. He flicked off the flashlight and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Jasper was always the softy of the group. Edward now wished Jasper had been with him when he'd discovered Bella earlier. Maybe things would have gone more smoothly.
"You can tell us, darlin'," Jasper drawled quietly.
Emmett bounded back down the steps, taking them two at a time. "I got her pj's," he announced loudly.
Edward grimaced. "Great, hand them over, and stop yelling for Christ's sakes."
Emmett winced apologetically and handed Bella's tank top and sweat pants to Edward. He sat cross-legged on the floor between Bella and Jasper, sitting awkwardly on his hands.
"I can't," Bella squeaked, her eyes now locked on the ceiling.
"Can't what?" Emmett whisper-yelled. Edward and Jasper shot him matching glares that shut him up immediately.
"Are you hurt…anywhere else?" Jasper asked softly, his eyes on Edward now. Edward swallowed hard, wondering the same thing.
"I can't," she murmured again, apparently to herself. "I can't be here, like this…like nothing happened."
"You don't have to be," Edward whispered, stroking her uninjured hand in his own. "Just tell us what happened, and who did this, and we'll take care of everything."
Emmett began to loudly crack his knuckles, and Edward and Jasper were all too aware of the rage seething through him.
"I can't," she wept softly, turning her face into the cushions. "Please don't make me."
Edward blew out a hard breath and scrubbed his hand down his face. He would give anything for answers, but he knew if he pushed too hard he would do nothing but harm. And she had been harmed enough for the evening…for her lifetime even.
"Bella, let us take you to the hospital and have you checked out," Jasper suggested quietly.
She shook her head almost violently until Edward gently cupped her face with his hands. "No, no, I said no, I can't, I won't!"
"Ok, ok," Edward crooned. "But listen…I really think you should go in the morning. Just to be on the safe side."
Bella shoved his hands away from her face and glared up at him. "I said NO! Don't you understand what NO means? Do any of you men actually KNOW the word? God, just leave me ALONE!"
Bella covered her face with her hands and the three men exchanged nervous glances. Jasper jerked his head toward the kitchen and rose to his feet. Edward and Emmett followed him, although Edward walked backwards, his eyes never leaving Bella's trembling form on the couch, lit only by the small gathering of candles.
"She has to go in the morning," Jasper said firmly. "If I think what happened to her, happened to her…she HAS to go."
Emmett began cracking his knuckles again. "Who's that asshole she went out with tonight? Alice knows him, right?"
Jasper whipped out his cell phone and headed out to the back porch to call her at work.
"I'm gonna destroy this guy when I get my hands on him," Emmett growled, leaving no room for doubt.
"Get in line," Edward muttered under his breath, his eyes still locked on Bella.
Jasper returned to the kitchen, his shaggy blonde hair damp again from the rain. "Alice is on her way home. I didn't tell her much, just that something bad happened to Bella on her date. I mean, that's all we know for sure, anyway…right?"
"Right," Edward growled darkly.
Edward returned to Bella's side as soon as he could, holding a fresh washcloth, now dampened with cool water instead of hot, to the left side of her face, combating the rapid swelling around her eye and cheekbone. She had stopped crying, but the occasional shudder would rack her small frame, and she continued to chew on her already battered lip. Edward pressed one fingertip to it, tugging her lip gently from between her teeth, and fought a smile when she scowled at him without ever opening her eyes. Even in this state, she was as stubborn as ever.
Alice was home within fifteen minutes of Jasper's phone call. She burst through the door in true Alice fashion, not even commenting on the shattered window, and all but shoved Edward aside as she pulled Bella into her arms. The two girls clung to each other as if for dear life, and the three men stood frozen in the doorway to the kitchen. The power had yet to come back on, but the guys stepped quietly onto the porch to give the girls their privacy. They stood in the fairly dry shelter of the overhang, silently seething and pacing separate paths back and forth. After what felt like an eternity, Edward chanced a look back into the living room. The candles were dying down but he could see that Alice had somehow managed to get Bella into her pj's, and was now draping a heavy patchwork quilt over her as she lay curled up on the couch, her face toward the cushions, as if hiding from the world. Alice sat beside her for several more minutes, stroking Bella's long hair and rubbing gentle circles into her back. Eventually, she rose to her feet and tip-toed through the door and onto the porch with the guys. They all stood stock still, holding their collective breath, waiting for her to tell them something, anything.
"Drake Romero tried to rape her on their date tonight," she blurted out, staring at nothing in particular. Her tone was flat but incredulous. "He took her out to a nice restaurant, tried to give her some gaudy expensive necklace, practically poured wine down her throat, and then mauled her in his fifty-thousand dollar sports car. She wouldn't give in so he beat the hell out of her. She got away from him and ran like hell to get back here. Used one of my stone yard gnomes to bust in the door. She apologized for the window, can you believe that?" Alice's laugh was dry and mirthless. "She actually apologized, and promised she'd pay for it. God, typical Bella…."
Alice's face crumpled and she buried it in her hands. Jasper was at her side in an instant, holding her tightly against his chest as she sobbed heavily in his arms. They all knew that what hurt Bella, hurt Alice, and likewise. Edward could only imagine how hard this was hitting Alice. It was hitting him like a ton of bricks, a thousand tons of bricks, and at Alice's words another ton had been added, as now his horrible suspicions were confirmed. He could feel his hands clench tightly into fists, and couldn't uncurl his fingers even if he tried.
"What was his name again?" Emmett growled from behind him. Edward cast a knowing glance back at his oversized friend, knowing they were on exactly the same page.