The Twilight Twenty-Five

Prompt: 06

Main Character/Pairing: Bella & Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 2035

Time

Author's note: I don't own twilight or any of the characters. I am grateful that we are allowed to play with them. Warning: This story deals with domestic abuse and death.

They say time heals all wounds but really all it does is numb the pain. Those wounds never really go away. I should know because all I have ever really experienced is pain. I know I should have gone after the first time, but I thought he loved me. Nevertheless, I was so insecure and lost that I didn't see it for what it really was.

He crossed my path when I was at my lowest. My friends had set me up on a blind date for my birthday, and I sat patiently waiting for the gentleman with the dark hair, dark skin and muscles for miles to show up with his white rose on display. I kept glancing at my watch and twirling my straw in my drink. He was late, but I had showed up super early due to nerves. It was just 5 minutes past meet up time so I would give him a little while. I glanced up and saw this picture of perfection smiling at me. He was a sight to behold: wild hair, killer smile and even more gorgeous eyes. I quickly glanced away. I sat for another 20 minutes or so waiting for my blind date, but after an hour, I decided that it was time to leave. I guess he saw me, tucked tail and ran, or he was sitting in the back of the bar laughing at me. I glanced back at the end of the bar where the other guy had been sitting as too. Well, it was probably for the best anyway. I'm probably not his type. I motioned for the bartender to bring me another drink. Since I was feeling a little tipsy from the other three drinks, I figured I might as well get smashed. As I was waiting for my drink, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"May I have this seat?"

"Sure, it's not taken."

"Are you here alone?"

An alarm went off in my head. "Nah, my friends are in the restroom."

"For the last hour?" he chuckled

Damn I forgot he was here the whole time.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I was set up on a date for my birthday."

"It's your birthday? Well happy birthday, let me buy you a drink." He said as he motioned for the bartender. She walked over with a big grin on her face as she sat down my drink.

"What can I get you handsome?" She said as she leaned over the bar giving the guy a nice view of her huge rack.

I rolled my eyes and downed my drink.

"I would like to buy this beauty a drink. Could you get us a double round please?" he asked her without taking his eyes off of her eyes. Disappointment played across her face as she walked off to fill his order.

"She was totally hitting on you." I mumbled.

"So, I really don't think she's my type."

"What's your type?" I bravely asked

"Petite brunettes with gorgeous chocolate hair and big bottomless eyes." He said as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I blushed as I accepted the drink from the bartender.

"Can I get your number?"

I looked up at him in shock. No one has ever asked for my number before.

I rattled it off quickly as he entered it into his phone.

"Do you have your phone on you?"

I just looked at him.

"So I can give you mine." He said with a smile.

I handed it over. If I wasn't so drunk, I probably could have seen the evil underneath the dazzling smile, the suave words, and the kind touch.

Weeks passed before I heard from him. I hadn't even told my friends about meeting him. Upon finally receiving that long awaited call, we decided to meet. We went on numerous dates, and he was always nothing but kind. After about three months, he asked me to move in with him. Infatuation caused me to say yes. That's when it all began.

"Why the hell do you have to wear those matronly dresses? Would it kill you to put on some make up once in a while? What's wrong with you?"

I braced for the impact when I saw him raise his hand. He swung, and the force knocked me backwards. I hit my head on the foot of the bed as I fell. I think I may have lost consciousness. My right eye swelled shut and was black for days. I avoided my friends because I would have never been able to explain or understand how much I loved him; he was just having a hard time with his new job. After a couple months, he made it clear he didn't approve of my friends. I slowly distanced myself from them until they stopped calling or trying to come by and visit with me. That's when things got worse. I wasn't allowed out of the house unless he was with me. When we were in public, I had to wear the clothes he laid out for me and apply my makeup the way he wanted. I couldn't speak unless he gave me permission. He came home late from work one night, and I knew I should have had his dinner on the table, but it was still in the oven, keeping warm. It had been there for an hour. He grabbed my by my arm and drug me to the bedroom. He forced himself on me. When he was done with me, I was covered in bruises, teeth marks and scrapes. He was so rough that I was bleeding profusely between my legs. When I started crying, he slapped me and told me to shut up and clean up. He proclaimed that he was going to the bar and didn't know when he would be home, if he even came home at all.

He stormed out of the house, and I heard him speed off. I cried as I showered, changing the sheets on the bed. I could barely stand as I made the bed it. As I hung up his clothes from when I had washed clothes earlier that day, a box fell out of the top of the closet. A small hand gun fell out at my feet. I picked it up and just stared at it. Images of Edward lying on the ground in a pool of blood with me standing over him holding the smoking gun kept flashing through my mind. Could I ever do that to the man, who supposedly loved me? I picked up the phone and dialed Alice's phone number, yet I hung up after three rings. I hoped she would recognize my number and call me back, yet I really hoped she blocked her number, so he wouldn't see it. The phone rang, and I was so glad to hear her voice. I quickly told her what happened and what I found in the closet along with where he was. I told her about all the punches, the pushes… everything. I told her I wanted out but didn't know how. I heard movement downstairs and hung up quickly. She must must have got the point because she didn't call back.

"Why the fuck are you dressed, Slut?" he slurred as he staggered into the room. He grabbed me by my hair and slung me onto the bed. I lay there as he had his way with me even as tears slid down my face. He was so drunk that he didn't even notice. The next morning, I walked slowly to the kitchen and started his breakfast. I had it all sat up the way he liked when he staggered into the kitchen. "What the hell is this slop?" he yelled as he pushed the plate off the table. "I guess its coffee again for me. I wish you would learn how to cook, you worthless piece of shit."

I cringed at his words as I slowly made my over to clean up the broken glass and food. I heard him leave moments later, so I washed up the dishes and took my shower in order to start cleaning the house just as he liked; all the while, I was planning my escape. I just couldn't take anymore pain-physical or mental. This wasn't me. Yeah, I was always insecure and hard on myself, but I would have never let myself be treated this way. My dad had raised me better than this and would be rolling in his grave if he knew what had become of me. I managed to go into town while he was at work and met up with Alice. She gave me a handful of sleeping pills she had. I went home and figured that if he tried to hit me, I was going to use them, or I thought I would.

"Where the hell is my dinner -you fucking whore?" I heard as he walked into the kitchen. I didn't answer. He walked up the stairs into the bedroom. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Make me my dinner." I just stared at him. He yanked me up from the bed and pushed me towards the door. Some how I ended up in the closet and the box fell on top of me. I quickly looked down and saw the gun. He had his back to me, so I picked it up and hid it behind my back. "What the fuck are you waiting on?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the closet. I managed to hide the gun in my pants under my shirt. While I made his dinner, he downed beer after beer, so he was sluggish when he came in to sit down. I waited patiently for his permission to eat. When he finished, he mumbled his permission for me to eat.

"When you're finished get upstairs, so I can fuck you properly." He ordered.

I washed up and walked up the stairs where he was already waiting for me. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

He came over to me and yanked my arm. I stumbled and fell against the bed. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up.

"STOP!" I yelled.

"What did you just say to me?"
"I said stop."

He went to slap me, and I blocked him. His face grew red in anger. I pulled the gun out of the back of my jeans and pointed it at him.

"You don't have the guts to pull the trigger." He said with a smile. I kept it aimed at him.

He reached for it and we started fighting. Next thing I knew the gun went off, and he was lying limp on top of me.

I pushed him off as I started crying. There was so much blood, and he wasn't breathing. I called Alice from his cell phone, lying on the dresser. She came over and called the police. When they got there she showed them the pictures she took that morning, and then they found more pictures in his phone where he had taken snap shots of me while I slept, showing all the things he had done to me. He must have gotten off on them.

Over the next few weeks, the cops conducted their investigation and found that he had done this to numerous women. They found pictures in the back of the closet in a shoe box. A lot of them were matches for missing person cases they had. The shooting was ruled self-defense, and I was cleared of all charges. I vowed to never again let a dazzling smile and wild, sexy eyes fool me.

At my therapist request, I sat down at my computer and wrote my story for the entire world to see so that I might help other women, who found themselves in the same position. I was hopeful that I might help someone to find her voice and leave her abuser. While not all abuse cases end with a death like mine did, I knew that I had been lucky since my situation almost ended with two lives lost. If I hadn't pulled that trigger, he would have eventually killed me. It's been two years since I escaped my living hell, and I'm finally learning to trust again but not as quickly. I met Jacob at one of my therapy sessions. He knows what I have been through and has been through it himself. He's patient with me and very kind. Slowly, the healing has begun. Like I am prone to think: time doesn't heal all wounds; it just numbs them slightly.