Author's Note: Lyrics in this one shot are from "Behind The Wall" by Tracy Chapman. I do not own them. Enjoy this story!
Esme Cullen sat on her pale couch in the living room of her home. It was mid afternoon, and she was alone for the most part. Her husband was at work, and her children were out shopping. All but Edward and Rosalie. Rosalie had stayed behind to fix one of the cars that had broken down, and Edward had wanted to wait at the cottage for his daughter to return from her time with Jacob. As Esme sat down, she grabbed the TV remote and flipped through the channels. Almost everything was something she'd seen, until she got to a movie called "No One Would Tell". It was only three minutes in and she'd never seen it before, so she figured that she'd give it a try.
If she had looked at what it was about, she would have turned the TV off right that second.
At first she thought it was going to be a teenage love story. It wasn't a stretch from the opening scenes. But she soon discovered that the kind of love in the movie was one with which she was very familiar: It was a possessive love. An abusive love.
She should have turned the channel right when she saw the first act of violence, but she couldn't do it. Her own memories were taking over, hazy as they were. But the pain associated with them were real. Every slap, shove, punch, and kick were relived and replayed in her mind.
Charles came home from work to see Esme on the couch, reading. "What do you think you're doing?" He asked icily. Esme looked up from her book, startled. "C-Charles. I didn't think you'd be home this early." "That's not an acceptable answer!" "I-I was reading." She stammered. "Where's my dinner?!" He bellowed. "I-I have it on the stove. I didn't think-" she was silenced quickly with a slap upside the head. "No, you didn't think, did you? Well, go on! Get my dinner!" He screamed. She scrambled to the kitchen and poured him a bowl of soup. As soon as she set it on the table he rammed her into the wall. Her head bounced off the wall, and she stared dazed into his deranged eyes. "What is that?" He asked, pointing to the bowl on the table. "It's soup." She said, frightened of what might happen. "What kind of a meal is that?! I don't need soup. I'm a man, I need meat!" He threw her to the floor. "When are you going to listen to me, you bitch?!" She said nothing. He kicked her face. "Whatever. I'm going to the bar. When I come back I expect a real meal. Not this crap." With that, he slammed the door.
Esme could feel herself dissociating from the present, her mind catapulting her back to those moments of terror.
Last night I heard the screaming
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police always come late
If they come at all
She remembered that feeling of being victimized. That feeling of breathless fear that overtook her every time he came home. The heart pounding sensation she got when she heard glassware rattle. It still scared her sometimes, that sound. Even after 80 years away from him. Sometimes she could hear his voice screaming at her. Even though the memory was foggy, she could still feel it inside of her. It didn't fade with time as she'd hoped it would. It only cemented itself in her heart. It was as much a part of her as any other memory.
The police would come sometimes. Someone would say something to an officer and they would stop by to see what the matter was. Charles would always smooth things over. Most of the time the officers didn't even see her. But sometimes they did. The nice ones would ask if she was okay. (Anytime they did she would smile and say she was fine.) The others would just wish them a good night and walk away.
Last night I heard the screaming And when they arrive
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police always come late
If they come at all
They say, "they can't interfere
With domestic affairs,
Between a man and his wife."
And as they walk out the door
The tears well up in her eyes
She had been helpless. Who would believe her when she said her husband beat her? No one, that's who. Her own parents hadn't believed her. She had begged for asylum, just to be free from his tyranny. But her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. So the beatings had continued- day after day, and night after night.
There were light beatings- ones that only left a few bruises. But the ones that she remembered the most were the harsh ones. The ones that slammed her into the wall, broke her bones, cracked her ribs, and knocked her out. She had woken up in the hospital more than once, but most of the time it was in an ambulance. Whenever they asked what had happened, she would make up an excuse to protect her monster of a husband, and get treated before going back to that prison she was forced to call home.
Last night I heard the screaming Last night I heard the screaming
Then a silence that chilled my soul
Prayed that I was dreaming
When I saw the ambulance in the road
And the policeman said,
"I'm here to keep the peace.
Will the crowd disperse
I think we all could use some sleep."
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police always come late
If they come at all.
For a long time she was lost in her thoughts, unable to escape them. Her thoughts were loud enough to catch Edward's attention, and he went into his home to see His mother staring at the TV. He came in just in time to see the protagonist shoved against the wall. He could see exactly what she was seeing, and it broke his heart. He tried to get her attention, but couldn't. Rosalie heard him and went to see what was wrong. When she took a look at the tv, her skin started to crawl. She sat on the couch next to her mother and held her hand.
For a long time, no one said anything.
Then, in a burst, the front door opened, and Carlisle and Emmett came in. Emmett rushed to his wife's side and whisked her upstairs to calm her down. Even if she never said anything, he knew it would have shaken her up.
Edward looked at his father, surprised. "How did you-"
"Alice called."
"That wasn't what I was asking. How did you and Emmett get here so fast?"
"We took my car."
Edward nodded, and left for the cottage, knowing how useless and impotent he was in this situation.
Carlisle sat beside her. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. She flinched hard, which stabbed him in the heart. He brushed it aside, willing himself to forget it, instead focusing on his wife, who relaxed when she saw it was only him. Their eyes locked, and a silent communication passed between them. She was shaken up, definitely. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"He can't hurt you anymore." He whispered.
She nodded, laying her head in his lap. They watched the rest of it together. When the movie was over, and the young girl was dead, she was quiet for a long time.
"That could have been me."
"It wasn't." He said crisply.
"It could have been. If I hadn't left..."
"But you did. You were strong enough to leave. And because of that, we found each other again." He kissed her gently.
"You're right. I just..." He put a finger to her lips and hushed her.
"I know, baby. I know."
Late that night as she lay in bed with her husband, Esme couldn't help but smile. He had seen what was behind her walls, and loved her anyways. She was finally free of her ex-husband's control, because she believed in Carlisle. Charles was a part of her past, but was growing fainter every day. Carlisle was her future, and she was going to focus on that from now on. She snuggled up into his arms, and happily made love to the man of her dreams.