A/N: I literally sat down at night and worked until morning writing this and the next chapter.
"She walks to school with the lunch she packed, Nobody knows what she's holding back." 'Concrete Angel' by Martina McBride.
"Little girl terrified, she'd leave her room if only bruises would heal." 'When She Cries' by Britt Nicole.
I wake slowly, confusion clouding my every thought. For a few blissful seconds I can't remember anything. Not where I am. Nothing. No pain.
And then the memories return. Last night. My father. Blinding fury.
Tentatively I reach my hand up and brush my fingers against my lips. Minor pain, I've long grown used to and a stinging sensation, but my body still rebels in reaction to this unwanted touch. I pull my hand away.
Easing myself up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed I slowly creep over to my mirror, careful not to make too much noise and inspect the damages of last night.
Black and dark purple surround my left eye. Red runs along the edge of my cheek, from last night, not yet faded but a lot less angry. The yellow fading bruises from a previous outburst lie on the surface of my skin.
I tilt my head in the mirror, revelling at the way they start off red, then fade to purple and finally yellow before blending back in with the natural colour of my skin. In a weird way I like the bruises. It shows people I'm hurting on the outside too. At least it would if I didn't wear my makeup. Maybe one day they'll see the pain on the inside is far worse.
I check out my face from different angles. How bad are the bruises, can I cover them up with concealer? Are there any particularly swollen patches of skin that won't be able to be covered up? Finally I reach the end of my inspection. Nothing I can't cover, it looks like I'll be going to school today. I hate it when the marks are so bad I have to miss school. It always means questions when I finally do go back. And it also means I have to stay at home. With him, when he gets home. It means I can't escape him.
At the same time I know the consequences of going to school and letting someone see the marks. If they found out he would be mad. And that would not be worth it. It would never be worth it. I reach over to the tub of concealer, picking it up and wincing as my battered wrist brushes against the edge of my desk. Is it broken? I don't think so, just badly bruised. None the less it still hurts.
Maybelline Dream Matte Mousse. The perfect concealer I think to myself. It's probably the thickest available. If you tried to smear as much onto your face with any other brand it would probably just go all weird. It would certainly not cover up all the marks left behind by him. It wouldn't cover my bruises.
It hurts as I smear the mousse over my bruises but I don't ever wince. After all these years I've sort of gotten used to it. It's just...a part of life. A horrible part. After I've smeared the make-up over my face I give it a dusting with powder. I look into the mirror, carefully inspecting for bruises. Nothing noticeable.
I walk over to my wardrobe and look over my tiny selection of clothes. Things are better now I have a job, at Newton's. It means I can get out more, get away from him. It's nice to be free, even if their son's unwanted advances bug me to crazy. And the money's nice too. It means I can buy myself a nice top or something, jeans. It means I can get clothes which will cover everything up.
And that's a good thing.
I pull on an old pair of jeans and a long blue t-shirt. I match it with a dark blue hoody.
***
My car dies on the way to school. Excellent, now I'm going to be late for sure. Phil will be so mad if I end up in detention. I could lie and say I'm saying afterschool voluntarily but if he finds out, it will be worse that I lied. And then I'll be sorry.
As I get out of the car the sky opens up and begins so pour. Just my luck. The minute I have to start walking. I look around, blinking though the rain. How far away am I from school? Ten minutes by car. Twenty if I walk, and take short cuts. I'll be soaked by the time I get there. I look in my car for a coat. Nope. Forgot it this morning. Great. More bad luck.
I pull my bag over my shoulder and slam the door shut.
***
By the time I get to school I'm soaked through and shivering. I'm late. I check my watch. Five minutes left of registration or less. My tutor will be mad. The bell goes. Less. I rush to my locker and pull it open. I search for a spare set of clothes; a long sleeved shirt and long leggings. Small enough to cram into the back of my locker for emergencies like this. Which are more common than I'd like.
I rush into the toilets and quickly change my clothes. There's a radiator in the corner of the bathroom. I fold my clothes over it. I'll take my chances with someone stealing them. The school's small enough here it's unlikely one of the girls will take them.
I check my watch. Class started five minutes ago.
I rush out the door smack bang into someone else and go flying.
I lay on the floor, momentarily winded. Someone reaches out a hand and I look up at the person who knocked my over.
Edward Cullen.
He gasps as he sees my face. I put my hand up and realise. Oh no. The make-up must have washed away in the rain. I pull away from him and scramble into the bathroom.
Mental note to self: avoid Edward Cullen.
I look into the mirror. Dark marks everywhere. With my wet and un-brushed hair I really look a mess. I quickly redo my make-up. Rushing a little. I'm already late.
As I got to leave I find him waiting outside the door.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"I was waiting to talk to you." He replies. I push past him.
"What happened to your face Bella?" He asks.
"I think you're confused." I reply, and continue walking. "My mascara ran, that's all." He snorts.
"I know what I saw." He growls. I spin round.
"And what exactly was that?"
"Your face. It was covered in bruises."
"Well, nobody's going to believe you." I hiss.
"I wasn't going to tell anybody. I just need to know the truth."
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" I ask him.
"No." He whispers.
"Well then I hope you enjoy disappointment." I say as I storm off.
By the time I reach my first class I'm fifteen minutes late. The teacher takes in the state of my dishevelled appearance and allows my interruption and lateness. I breathe a sigh of relief. If they'd decided to punish me Phil would have gone crazy.
"A home is no place to hide, Her heart is breaking from the pain that she feels." 'When She Cries' by Britt Nicole.
As I reach the front door of my house after school I notice my father's car in the driveway. Never a good sign. I wonder what he's doing home so early. A quiet day? Or trouble at work? A beating.
I take a deep breath and open the front door, stepping inside and sealing myself in.
Is this going to be the last time I close the door. Will he finally go too far? I can see his gun and belt hung up by the door. Whatever happens, it won't be quick. No single bullet to my temple. Pity. I look at the gun, considering my options.
"Bella." Should I run? Could I make it? I see his face appear around the corner of the kitchen. Too late. He advances towards me.
I make to run. Fight or flight. He's there within seconds, hands around my throat, pushing me back against the wall, standing on tiptoes in an attempt to keep some oxygen in my body and lessen the effects of Phil's attack.
"So you thought you could run." He hisses menacingly, squeezing his hand on the last word.
I let out a whimper as stars appear before my eyes and the rushing begins in my ears. Just when I think I'm going to pass out he releases his hand, letting me drop to the floor.
"Make me dinner. Whore." And with that he leaves.
I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. As I pick myself up off the ground I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the hall mirror. Tangled hair, strands falling limply around my face, smudged make up, bruises creeping through, dark lines down my face where the tears have washed away my makeup. I look a mess. I don't bother fixing my makeup. None of my friends visit here, all far too superficial to actually spend any time with me. And Phil doesn't care.
I limp into the kitchen, my ankle still sore from a previous attack. I need a quick meal. Phil won't like waiting. I open the fridge and take out a packet of beef mince and some vegetables. Immediately I turn on the oven and place a frying pan on top. I pour a little oil into the pan and throw in the mince. I take out another pan and pour in some water and spaghetti. As they cook I pull out a chopping board and a sharp knife. I take a tomato and slice it in half before cutting it into smaller chunks. Once the tomatoes are cut I slide them to the edge of the chopping board before checking on the mince. Using the wooden spatula I slid it around making sure it hasn't stuck to the bottom.
I take an onion and repeat the process, chopping it into smaller chunks than I cut the tomato. I check on the mince again. Almost time to add the vegetables. I take a courgette and slice downwards, cutting through the tip of it, slicing off the end. The edge of the knife brushes against my skin and instead of pulling away I press the knife down harder. It all happens it the fraction of a second. I gasp and pull my finger away. There's quite a bit of blood.
I run over to the tap and switch on the tap. I'm never sure quite why people instinctively do this. It stops the blood clotting and rather than cleaning the wound it actually introduces the possibility for infection a little. Eventually the blood begins to slow. I turn off the tap and wrap my finger in some paper towels. A little blood soaks through. I look at it to inspect it. It's the kind of cut that will open up every time I move my finger. I reach over to the medicine cabinet and take out a plaster and wrap it around my finger, careful to make it as loose as possible as fabric plasters are stretchy and often end up cutting off the circulation to fingers if I do them too tightly.
I smell burning. I gasp and turn to check on the mince. Scrubbing furiously at the pan with the spatula I turn over the mince. It's black on the bottom. I look up at the clock on the wall. It's too late now to cook anything else, Phil will get mad if I take too long. I weigh up my options. Burnt food against slow food.
It's never good to keep him waiting so I decide to try and salvage the mince. I finish slicing the courgette and throw all the vegetables into the pan. I go to the cupboard and open a can of chopped tomatoes into it. I stir it around and wait. The mince is a little burnt but you can't really tell when it's coated in tomato sauce.
As the sauce begins to bubble I take the pan off the heat and switch of the oven. I pour the spaghetti into a colander before serving up the spaghetti on Phil's plate before adding the bolognaise. I grab a knife and fork from the draining board and take it into him. He's sitting in front of the television watching some programme about cars. Phil's never been one for sports. I place the plate on his lap and back away. Once back in the kitchen I serve up my dinner onto a plate and sit down to eat it in the kitchen.
"BELLA!" He yells from the other room. Uh-oh. Never a good sign. Maybe he just wants a beer...shush Bella, don't worry, it's probably nothing, I doubt he even noticed.
I make my way into the living room. His face is bright red. Never a good sign. He launches the plate at my face and I duck my head slightly. The plate smashes against the wall behind me, fracturing into tiny pieces, spaghetti and tomato trailing down the wall like blood. My blood.
He gets up from the chair and advances towards me. I back up against the wall. I can feel the tomato sauce soaking into the back of my shirt, covering me in patches of red. I feel wet against my head, I brush my hand against the back of my head and check my fingers. Red. Blood or tomatoes? Tomatoes, he hasn't done anything yet. Pretty soon that will be myblood.
His hands immediately lock around my neck. He pulls me away from the wall slightly before slamming my head against the wall with amazing force. There are stars in my eyes and a rushing in my ears. If it wasn't for his hand around my throat I wouldn't be upright. He lets go and I collapse to the floor, landing with a heavy thud. I can practically feel the bruises forming.
I feel a sharp kick to my side. I gasp as all breath vanishes from my body. I can't breathe. I gasp again, trying to suck in air. As the pain changes from shock to actual hurt I find myself breathing again, a little fast and out of breath, as if I've been running. I roll onto my back despite the fact that this makes my body and open target rather than protecting it if I curl up in a ball. It's at least easier to breath and right now that's more important.
I feel everything as Phil's weight comes down on my arm, stamping on it with all the force he can muster. I let out a scream at what has to be him breaking my arm. The pain is unbelievable, definitely one of the worst things I've felt. Ever. My vision blurs for a second. I can feel the nausea swelling up in my body.
"Get up!" He yells. I struggle to follow throw with his command and he reaches down and pulls me up by my hair. He aims a vicious punch at my head and the force of the impact causes my head to go slamming into the wall behind me. Two for one. The world goes black.
"There's a moment in time, And it's stuck in my mind, way back when we were kids, Cause your eyes told the tale, Of an act of betrayal, I knew that somebody did." 'Kristy, are you doing okay?' by The Offspring.
A/N: The singer in this chapter, of the record Edward is listening to was born in Illinois in 1880 (21 when Edward was born). She released a song in 1918, the year Edward was transformed called 'Without You.' She performed in Chicago (Edward's hometown). She married FIVE times. She had no children but adopted three. This was all quite rare in 1900s.
[Edward's POV]
Bella. I can't get her off my mind. Am I crazy? To be obsessing about a human girl. About a human girl whose mind you can't read, who was obviously lying earlier. My eyesight is better than the average human's. There's no fooling me into thinking those weren't bruises. Who did it to her? Why would anyone want to hurt her, and why is she covering it up.
I get up and pace around. I need something else to focus my attention I can't be obsessing about some human. I get up and walk over to my record player and pull out an old vinyl record. My oldest. The first record I ever heard, ever bought, back in 1918, just after my transformation. Nora Bayes' 'Without You' begins to fill the room.
"You don't know how very much you mean to me."
My thoughts drift to Bella and I find myself preoccupied. I remember the way she smelled. So deliciously floral. Freesias. Such a beautiful sent. So fitting for such a beautiful human.
"If you did I know that you would blame me."
My thoughts wander to the bruises I saw on her face. Should I confront her about them? She seemed quite defensive and it really isn't my problem. I shouldn't be getting involved with a silly little human. Especially one so difficult, how clearly hates me.
"Know my love for you I have been showing, my poor heart will not be overflowing. And this too is very difficult to hide. For there's something healthy way inside."
Does she hate me? I must make sure to conceal my feelings from not only her but the others. Alice and Esme would be overjoyed at me showing an interest in someone, even if that someone was a human. They would get carried away. Rosalie and Jasper would bite my head off for even looking at a human.
"Without you I could never be so blue without you. I would be gone from you for I cannot not live without you. Without you. I love everything about you."
What if something happens to her? What's causing those bruises. Who? Should I interfere, protect her?
"Without you, life would some become a bryal without you. I would soon forget your smile for I love you so dearly I want you to know."
I remember her face in my head. Such beauty. Despite the ugly marks marring her face. The look of sorrow in her eyes makes my un-beating heart lurch in my chest. I feel very protective of her.
"Without you, nothing would be worthwhile. Without you dear, the skies would not be blue without you I would soon grow lonesome too, for I cannot live without you."
When we move I will never see her again. Can I face living without her? I could turn her. No Carlisle would never allow me to turn a healthy human. Ideas run through my head as I think of ways for us to be together. This is stupid, we can never be together. She is a human and I am a vampire. It would never work. She has a long and healthy life ahead of her.
"I love every little tiny thing about you. For without you my life would life would some become a bryal without you."
I could make the most of my time with her now. But it would hurt even more when I left. How did I not notice her before now. Her delicious smell.
"I would soon forget your smile for I love you so dearly I want you to know. Without you, nothing would be worthwhile."
The song finishes and only crackling can be heard. I walk over and switch off the music, my thoughts racing full of her. I try to distract myself but can't seem to shake the feeling I should be with her. Now. I should go. No. I mustn't get involved. It's too risky. Especially with how delicious she smells.
I jump up from my bed and wander downstairs. Alice and Emmett are watching a movie in front of the television. I sit down in a chair my thoughts still consumed with her.
Emmett turns round and notices my distraction.
"What's got you so worked up. A girl?" He jokes. My head snaps up and my gaze meets his before I can deny it I hear them both gasp.
"A girl!" shrieks Alice. Esme is in the room instantly. Great. Exactly what I didn't want to happen. Carlisle follows Esme in, curious at this change in a hundred years worth of disinterest, mildly curious, and Jasper comes running at the sound of Alice's shriek.
Alice is in front of me leaping up and down.
"Who!" she shrieks.
I brush her off.
"Who said I was interested in a girl?" I ask trying to distract her.
"A guy?" Jokes Emmett. I roll my eyes.
"Who?" Insists Alice.
"Alice, I'm not interested in anyone."
"Yes you are." She shrieks. Can't she tone it down a notch? "I know the signs, distracted, avoiding the question." She gazes into space for a second. I try to read her thoughts but she's blocking me. She gasps and giggles at me.
"What did you see?" I growl. She laughs again.
"Oh Edward! Talk about unrequited love." Emmett laughs and the others join in.
"This isn't funny." I growl.
"So you admit." Asks Alice. Great. There's no way I'm worming my way out of this now.
"Fine. I admit it. Tell me what you saw." I demand. She pauses for a second, deciding whether to tell me.
"You, her, tomorrow before school, the parking lot. She was not happy." She laughs again and I glare at her.
"Come on Edward, it's funny, everyone at school loves you." She says in a sing-song voice dragging out the words. I growl at her and stalk off to my room. Great, now they'll probably tease me for days.
"Who?" I hear Esme ask Alice.
"Bella Swan." I hear her reply. Now everyone knows.
"Swan?" Asks Carlisle and I perk up. He must know her.
"You know her?" Asks Alice.
"Yes, she's in A&E every weekend. Clumsiest person I've ever met. She's actually injured herself in A&E before now, everyone in the department knows her."
Alice giggles a little at the mental image. A regular at the hospital. Would that explain the bruises. What did she do? Walk into a fist shaped door repeatedly?
"I must be a pretty good liar for you to honestly think that everything's alright."
I wake up, confused and dazed. I'm lying on an insanely hard surface that cannot possibly be my bed. I blink, confused and make out the surface of the living room. What am I doing here?
Suddenly the pain returns and I gasp at the intensity of it, remembering last night's events. He's getting worse. It's only a matter of time before he kills me. My fragile body can only take so many beatings. My hair is matted with sauce and everything hurts.
I roll over crying out at the pain in my arm. I'm going to need today off of school. Should I go to A and E? I try to move it. I can't do it, I can't move it, it's definitely fractured. I look at my watch? It's 7:30 am. Not too early to call someone. I go upstairs to wash my hair and change my clothes, using my good arm. The pain is unbelievable but I can't be seen wearing yesterday's clothes or someone will guess something's up. I put on makeup over my face, spreading it thick enough to cover the bruises. I'm glad it's my left arm he broke not my right.
I grab my phone and call Angela. Jessica and Lauren wouldn't care enough to come to my house. She picks up straight away.
"Hey Bella." She says in her usual cheery voice.
"Hey Angela." I say weakly.
"What did you do?" She asks.
"How did you know?" I reply. She laughs.
"It's the only reason you ever call me so early." She laughs again.
"Broke my arm, could you be here in ten?" I ask.
"Sure." she says.
"Okay, bye." I disconnect the phone and get my bag ready for school. Checking my make-up one last time I run downstairs, careful not to trip and wait for Angela to pull up.
As he cars pulls into the drive I'm already out the door. I'm in the car before she's switched off the engine. She turns around and begins to drive down the country roads towards Forks Community Hospital.
The receptionist recognises me from my numerous visits and smiles warmly.
"What did you do this time?" She says in both a concerned and reprimanding voice.
"Fell over. Again." I smile to try and fake humour at my 'clumsiness'. If only they knew.
I get sent straight to a cubicle. Forks is quiet enough they don't have many people at 7am on a weekday. As I wait, Angela starts talking to me about her relationship with Ben. My thoughts wander to Edward Cullen. The unattainable guy that every girl wants. He is good looking. No. I must stay away. He's close to discovering all my secrets.
Dr Cullen pulls back the curtain.
"Hello Bella." He smiles warmly. "Let's try and get you sorted so you can get to school on time." He has this weird vibe about him...almost as if he knows something I don't. He hasn't guessed has he? No, he seems too calm for that, happy.
Dr Cullen quickly and efficiently checks out my arm, deciding it's broken without the need for an x-ray. He's such an amazing doctor I'm not sure why he'd want to live somewhere like Forks. My arm is wrapped in plaster in amazing speed and I find myself back in the car with Angela before I can blink.
As we're driving Angela starts up a conversation with me.
"So, how's Phil?" She asks. My head snaps round.
"Why do you ask?" I demand. She seems uncomfortable and hesitant.
"N-nothing. It's just...it's only been a few years since your mother died...you never talk about it, I just wanted you to know...I'm here if ever you need me." I relax a little.
"I'm fine Angela, everything's great, Phil's kind enough to look after me, and your right, it's been years." This seems to pacify her. How can she think I'm alright? Am I that good a liar? As I get out of the car I can see Edward Cullen staring at me from across the car park. Angela notices too.
"Looks like he wants to talk to you." She says passively.
I make a non committal reply and she walks towards the school entrance. As she leaves he makes his may over to me. I thought as much, best get this conversation over and done with without prying ears.
"What do you want?" I ask challengingly.
"I just want to talk." He says. He sounds whiny.
"About?" I ask. He seems irritated.
"How did you break your arm?" He asks.
"Fell downstairs." I try to speak as little as possible. Less incriminating and maybe he'll lose interest.
"Uh-huh." He replies.
I take the opportunity of his non committal reply to walk past him. Enough talking for today. I walk up the steps to school carefully and go to find Angela and Lauren. My mind drifts through home room. What kind of mood will Phil be in when I get home? Will he hurt me again? I try to distract myself. It's best not to think about it too much. Deal with it there and then. Roll with the punches. Literally.
I hear someone calling my name. It's Jessica.
"Did you just hear what I said?" She asks.
"Sorry Jess." I mutter. I don't really care. Probably mumbling on nothing about her on-off again boyfriend Mike.
"I just said Mike asked me to the Spring Dance." She says excitedly.
"Oh wow Jess, that's great." I say with as much fake enthusiasm as I can muster. Only another six hours to endure and then Phil, repeat cycle for the next year and a half. Then I'll be free. I have my mother's trust so I can pay for college. And never come back.