A/N: **MARJOR WARNINGS INCLUDED. PLEASE READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE PROCEEDING TO THE STORY!**
Hey, everyone! This author's note is going to be pretty lengthy and for very good reason. This o/s comes with a heap of content and trigger warnings. This little story is not a happy one. Let me repeat that: THIS STORY IS NOT A HAPPY ONE. There is no happy ending at all. None. This story includes all of the following: domestic violence and child abuse/violence (described in explicit detail), mention of rape/non-consensual sex (NOT described in any capacity), self-harm (cutting), and suicide. There is major character death. If any of the above will bother or offend you in any shape, way, or form, then do not move forward. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. This is a serious story that deals with many very serious and disturbing topics. I am not making light of any of said topics. This is NOT a romantic story.
I want to thank Bethany-Kris (duskri123) for being willing to read this over, for her honesty, and for encouraging me to move forward with posting this. I've been sitting on this for months; she definitely had to talk me down off a ledge. Thank you, boo. I also want to thank my girl, Dixie (dcurley1), for her encouragement as well. Thank you, pretty lady.
DISCLAIMER: No copyright infringement intended. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters from the Twilight Universe. SEE ABOVE AUTHOR'S NOTE FOR CONTENT AND TRIGGER WARNINGS.
The End Justifies the Means
Bella lay there, blinking slowly as she tried to get her wits gathered back. It wasn't the first time Edward had left her barely clinging to consciousness. If he had his way, it probably wouldn't be the last either. Oh, she had thought about leaving numerous times. She had even tried it a few times. The physical and emotional scars from those harrowing trials were better reminders—warnings—than the faulty memories that were growing more and more hazy in her too-frequently-concussed mind.
Shortly after her first try at getting away, he had moved them across the country to a place where she had no friends or family—not that the friends and family she had back home had done her any good. He had made sure she alienated them them long before things got bad, before he became violent. Moving her nineteen hours away from all she knew was just another nail in the proverbial coffin. It was immediately after moving into the new house that he installed an in-home surveillance system that had cameras in every room, sometimes even more than one to ensure coverage of the entire area. It was to keep her and their new home with all their earthly possessions safe he'd said.
Bella's second flight attempt landed her in the hospital with a broken collar bone that required surgery, a fractured ankle, and a rather severe concussion. Apparently riding a bicycle headlong into a car due to lack of attention will do that to you. At least that was the story given to doctors. She came home to a brand new, state-of-the-art, computerized security system that made entry into or out of the house completely keyless. All you needed to come and go as you pleased was a little key chain FOB or a smartphone that was linked to the security system. Even the windows were useless without either of those items. That she had access to neither a FOB nor smartphone was understood. Cleaning Edward's office and happening across a badly hidden FOB led to her most recent endeavor to flee.
That third time she had tried to escape was the night she ended up pregnant with their son. The bastard knew her well enough to know she would not hold the negativity surrounding his forced conception against the innocent boy. And she hadn't. Never had she contemplated an abortion—not that she'd have been given an opportunity to attempt one. Nor had she hoped Edward's hand would cause a spontaneous miscarriage. Even with his vividly green eyes and more copper than brown hair, she had never looked at Jase with or felt anything other than love from day one. That's why she had to do everything within her power to get them away.
Bella had known it was coming. If Edward was willing to beat her within an inch, a millimeter even, of her life, of course he would do the same to the child he hadn't wanted. A very naive part of her had hoped a baby would change him, awaken some deeply rooted, latent fathering tendencies. He made it quite clear, however, that he had never wanted kids; Jase was just another way to brand her. Another way to keep her under thumb and chained to his side. She had dealt with Edward's ever increasing violence for five years. She could have, would have continued to endure the beatings and half-forced sex if he had just kept his fucking hands off her son.
Alas, she was stuck more than ever. Bella wouldn't just be some college dropout who could work herself to pieces in order to survive. She was mother to a small child who needed so much more than she could provide. And who was to say she would even get custody if she managed to do things legally? Edward had made a name for himself in this God-forsaken town. Everyone respected and admired him for keeping to traditional family ideals, being the sole breadwinner, working hard so his wife didn't have to do anything but be an envied domestic goddess and champion stay-at-home-mom. How could she possibly be unhappy given all he did and sacrificed for her? No, she knew how the legal proceedings would go.
There was little choice but to try and escape again. The stakes were even higher now though. She would never even consider leaving Jase behind. He would just become Edward's next whipping boy, taking all the punishment while she made a getaway—if she could even manage it without getting caught. Bella side-eyed the camera in the upper corner of the room, not willing to look at it directly. Memories of her failed breakouts flitted through her mind as she lay on the bed where Edward left her after that morning's learned lesson. She had no choice but to bide her time and plot a final escape that could not fail. Her life and that of her son depended on it.
~oOo~
Another bouquet of red roses sat in the center of the dining room table, their cloying scent making her want to vomit. It was always the same after every argument that turned violent: the bouquet of roses (that turned her stomach), softly spoken words of apology (that he didn't mean), light kisses (that were freezing instead of melting), and eventually some barely there negligee that Edward would just rip off in a half fit of rage when she wasn't responsive enough to his liking. It was easier to simply lay there and be a voluntary orifice than say "No" to his advances. It's not like he would listen anyway; he would just take what he wanted regardless.
Bella really was not looking forward to an evening of those kinds of activities. She was exhausted and still hurting from his earlier anger. That and Jase had been acting oddly; he was more clingy than usual. A relatively quiet and independent boy, Jase had learned early to get out of the way when Edward's anger escalated. It wasn't until Edward turned his anger on his son and began lashing out physically that Jase had become a shadow of himself. Even with as low-maintenance as he had been before, his reluctance to speak or play out in the open had grown exponentially. Instead, Bella found herself having to tiptoe to the little boy's bedroom to check on him, even when Edward was out of the house. It was when she saw him taking anger out on a stuffed teddy bear that she grew truly scared of what lay ahead if she did not get Jase and herself out of the confines of the house.
It was nearing time for Edward to come home, and Bella knew she needed to get dinner started. Although he did not expect food on the table as soon as he walked in the door, he did expect it to be at least be started, preferably finished within a half hour of his arrival. It was a sign of respect in his eyes, and one that Bella tried hard to adhere to in an effort to create less problems for herself. Cooking was one thing she still enjoyed doing despite the downward spiral her life had been on for nearly a decade.
As Bella put the finishing touches on the chicken dish that needed to bake in the oven for fifteen minutes, Edward walked through the door. As was expected by him, Bella promptly walked over to lay a brief kiss on his cheek and take his lunch pail from him for cleaning. Stepping back and keeping her head tilted toward the floor, she felt her husband's eyes rove over her person in obvious inspection. She wore a simple black skirt that was no longer than her fingertips; a short-sleeved, white eyelet top; and a pair of black ballet flats. Her hair was down, but with the sides pulled up and out of her face. Apparently finding nothing wrong, he asked about the meal she was preparing.
"It's your favorite baked chicken dish. I'm just getting ready to start the mashed potatoes," she said in a quiet voice.
"Good. I'm very hungry tonight," Edward replied succinctly. And with that said, he strode toward their bedroom so he could change into more comfortable clothes as he did every other night.
Allowing herself a quiet sigh of relief, Bella turned to the fridge to grab the milk and butter she would need to make the potatoes. She quickly cut the amount butter she required from the stick before returning it to the fridge. Upon pouring the milk into a measuring cup, Bella began to panic. Her heart pounding hard enough to cause a roar in her ears, she stared, horrified, as she realized her mistake. There wasn't enough milk to make the mashed potatoes the way Edward liked them. They wouldn't be creamy enough. There was no way she could even fake it. He would know, just like he always knew when she tried some sort of shortcut in an attempt to cover a failure.
Seeing that Edward had returned to the great room and that Jase was nowhere to be seen, she figured it was best to get the ensuing argument out of the way while it was just the two of them present. It was better to be forthright; the beating would not be as bad this way.
Without even looking in his direction, Bella's quiet voice uttered, "Edward?"
He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist in a seemingly loving manner. Only she knew better.
"Yes, love?"
Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed as best she could to prepare for the words about to leave her mouth. "Darling, we've run out of milk."
"It's no matter. I can run out later for more if you would like to have it for in the morning."
He sounded so normal. Like it was no big deal. How quickly it would change.
She swallowed thickly again, her throat threatening to stick closed. "But I've not finished making your dinner. The mashed potatoes won't have the amount of milk you require."
The words had barely left her mouth before she realized her mistake. Wording the sentence the way she did—essentially blaming him for requiring that amount of milk—would only make things worse. The hands still wrapped around her waist tightening to the point of pain was all the sign she needed that he had caught her phraseology as well.
"The milk I require?" Edward hissed menacingly.
"I didn't mean – ," but her words were cut off by the steel bands of her husband's arms squeezing so tightly that it became difficult to breathe.
"Oh, but Bella, you never mean anything you say when those words get you in trouble. Always the same argument with you. I try so hard to give you the benefit of the doubt, yet here we are once again. It's you blaming me for your shortcoming. And now, I have to be the bad guy. Because you. Never. Learn!"
As Edward yelled the last of his sentence, he spun Bella around and backhanded her across the face so quickly that there was almost a delayed response to the pain that exploded through her cheek and temple. Stumbling backward due to the force of the blow, she scrabbled to reach a dining room table chair in an attempt to keep herself from hitting the floor. She knew from many past confrontations that the longer she managed to stay on her feet, the better. Bella steadied herself and took a deep breath before looking up at her spouse. She could feel her eyes narrow at the sight of a man who was nothing more than an overgrown bully. Knowing what it would mean but not even caring anymore, Bella verbally taunted Edward.
"You're such a little bitch, Eddie."
Before she could prepare herself, Edward's looming form was standing over top of her. She felt his large hand wrap around her throat and squeeze, causing her to wheeze as she struggled to use the partially collapsed airway. He lifted her slightly from the floor, and she felt her lungs burn as pain shot up and down her neck.
"You need to learn more respect, wife." The sneer on his face transformed him from handsome to downright ugly. Using what seemed like no strength whatsoever, Edward thrust Bella away from himself and into the refrigerator. The sudden impact of her back smacking into the fridge door along with the head rush from regaining some oxygen was enough to send Bella to the floor on her hands and knees. The half-broken woman watched with weary resignation as the monster before her began to remove the belt from his pants.
"If I can't teach you to respect me the way you should, maybe I can beat it into you."
As Edward descended on her nearly prone form, she heard a slight gasp from her right. Little Jase stood looking on in quiet shock. She saw his vividly green eyes bounce back and forth between herself and his father before they stopped dead on the half-folded belt. Bella watched in horror as Jase threw himself in front of her in an attempt at protection, his little voice yelling, "No, Daddy!" The act brought Edward up short. The look of shock on his face would have been comical if not for the situation. For a moment, Bella thought maybe, just maybe, her son feeling the need to put his four year old self in front of his mom would be enough to jolt Edward out of it. When the look of shock morphed into blind rage, Bella knew she could not have been further from the mark. She tried to yank Jase out of Edward's reach, but wasn't fast enough as he grabbed the little boy's arm much too tightly and shook him violently before flinging him off to the side. Bella watched in paralyzed terror as Jase's small body smashed against a nearby wall with a sickening crunch and bounced off, landing on the floor with a thud.
With no thought, Bella's terror transitioned to an apoplectic fury she had never before felt. She launched herself at Edward, determined to do as much damage as possible before he rendered her useless. With her hands clenched into claws, Bella raked her fingernails down his face and took a sick pleasure in feeling the skin collect underneath. The red welts and blood that appeared on his cheeks from the well-manicured nails he insisted she keep only increased that satisfaction. His eyes blazing with naked hatred, Edward caught hold of Bella's hair and used it to yank her away from his person. Unrelenting, she began to kick at any part of him she could reach and managed a blow to his genitals that wasn't nearly hard enough. The scream of outrage that left Edward's mouth was the last thing Bella heard before two punches to the side of her head in quick succession sent her world into black.
~oOo~
Opening her eyes this time around was the hardest yet. Even the right eye, which was not swollen shut like its counterpart, didn't seem to want to work. After continuing to lay on the floor for several minutes in an attempt to force at least her eyes to work, Bella's right lid seemed to be mostly willing to stay open with some concentration. The left eye was a lost cause. She could tell by the amount of pain and the dried blood that her nose was broken again. Her jaw was also in a bad way if the crunching sound that came from just trying to swallow was any indication. The dead silence of the room told her Edward was gone. He never did stick around to admire his handy work.
Feeling relatively sure her limbs were in fairly decent working order, Bella forced her pain-ridden body to turn over so she could at least try to crawl. The downward force on her face made the position nearly unbearable—the throbbing was horrid—but she had to find Jase. She had to make sure her son was okay. Finally making the attempt to move on her hands and knees, the dizziness that had not seemed so bad before was making itself known. The world was on a slant as Bella forced her one good eye to focus on what was in front of her. Tamping down on the nausea that threatened to shove the contents of her stomach back up and out her mouth, Bella forced her weak limbs to carry her exhausted body over to where Jase still laid after Edward's wrath.
After what felt like hours, she eventually reached her son's side. It was all Bella could do to keep her mangled jaw still as she laid eyes on her broken little boy. Bruises in the shape of a large handprint wrapped around his left forearm. Although sprawled out on the floor, she could tell that his right arm hung at an odd angle from the shoulder, indicating a dislocation at the least. The most damning things she noticed were his breathing and face. Jase's breaths were shallow and sluggish. When Bella leaned her head down to listen to his heart, she heard the struggle his lungs were under without needing a stethoscope. Forcing herself to look up at his face, she struggled again to keep the sob from ripping out of her chest. The bruising around his eyes was terrible. The obvious swelling around the sockets put a sense of foreboding in her gut that she'd never felt before. Straining to keep herself balanced while she lifted a hand from the floor, Bella used all the gentleness she could muster to lift one of Jase's bruised eyelids. The pupil was massive and had taken over any iris that should have been there.
Sucking in a breath, Bella forced herself to open the other eyelid. This pupil was also dilated, though not to the point of the other. Just the barest sliver of green could be seen. Dredging up long abandoned medical knowledge from her suspended college days, Bella knew her son had a serious brain injury. The lack of blood around his head indicated it was a closed brain injury, but that actually made her more nervous. That meant the pressure on Jase's brain had nowhere to go. She listened again to his breathing and noted it had worsened just in the short time she had checked his pupils. It was noisier, raspier as his lungs struggled to support him. The sobs Bella had been holding in burst forward and forced a strangled oath from her lips. Rage, pain, and defeat washed over her. With no access to a phone and no FOB to unlock the doors and windows of the house, she and Jase were prisoners. She had no way of saving her son the way she wished she could.
As Bella's body shuddered and shook from the force of her cries and pain, she laid her head down on the barely rising chest of her innocent son, battling against the onslaught of emotions that threatened to take over. She heard his heart stutter beneath her ear before returning to an even slower pace. It wasn't long—a minute, maybe two—when Jase's chest rose and fell for the last time. The spluttering of his heart was the only indication of a struggle his little body gave before shutting down completely. A garbled keen left Bella's throat as she listened to the silence that followed. After an unknown amount of time and copious tears, she forced her body to comply to her commands of getting on her feet and awkwardly stooped to lift her son's lifeless body from the cold, harsh floor.
Dragging herself in the direction of the bathroom, Bella labored to stay upright despite Jase's slight weight. Vision blurry and reduced, her head spinning, she stumbled and lost her balance. Knowing she was going to fall and not wanting her son's already abused body to be battered any further, Bella spun herself in a half turn so that her back and head were what slammed into a nearby wall. She took the deepest breaths she could manage with her injuries to stave off the resurgence of nausea jarring her head had caused. Her legs growing weaker by the second, Bella shuffled off again and managed to reach her destination. She maneuvered around awkwardly as she started the water in the large garden tub. Once the temperature was hot enough to serve its purpose, but not hot enough to scald, she plugged the drain and watched blankly as the water began to collect.
Bella gathered Jase's limp body closer to herself, stepped gingerly into the still filling tub, and managed to somehow sit down without breaking her neck or jarring her son too badly. Settling against the short wall of the tub, she clutched the little boy closer to her bosom and sought comfort from his still warm body. She stared blankly ahead—no real thoughts making themselves known—as she waited for the tub to finish filling. The stillness with which Bella sat would have caused any person to think she was as lifeless as the small boy still clenched tightly to her chest. At some invisible signal, she suddenly moved and shifted Jase to her side, squeezing him in between herself and the interior wall of the tub. Keeping an arm wrapped protectively around his small shoulders, Bella leaned forward slightly and reached for a nearby razor.
Popping the plastic apart with an ease that screamed of habit, she managed to extract one of the four blades housed in the cartridge. She examined the blade's edge in the bright overhead light and made the softest of satisfied hums in the back of her throat. With no hesitation whatsoever, Bella ran the blade across the expanse of one thigh and watched as red filtered up from the wound. No more than a quarter of an inch above the first cut, she made another that resulted in more red swirling up to mix with the water. Looking to her left thigh where numerous thin, white lines could be seen, Bella made two more quick slashes to her flesh. A distant, almost removed-from-the-situation side of herself noted the sound of water hitting the tile floor over the rush of water still leaving the faucet.
Bella shifted Jace's weightless form back on her lap, his head resting peacefully on her shoulder, and scooted them both deeper into the hot water. Resting her chin on top of her son's head, she submerged both arms under the water and watched lazily as her right hand used the freed razor blade to make a deep, vertical cut to her left wrist. The red that filtered into the water swirled almost majestically as the faucet continued to churn the contents of the tub. As she traded the blade from the right hand to her left, she found it difficult to keep control of that side, but not impossible. Beginning to feel increasingly tired, Bella forced her hand and made an identical vertical cut to her right wrist. The tub water was more than a little pink now.
Feeling more and more sleepy, Bella clutched Jace to her chest possessively and began rocking back and forth while managing to brokenly hum some nameless tune; the water sloshing out of the tub was of no consequence. Her movements slowed against her will but without her realizing it. Vision growing hazy around the edges, Bella laid her head back against the wall of the tub and closed her eyes. She sank down even deeper into the water, her mind filling with images of a little boy with hair more copper than brown and green eyes until there was only black.