Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Fractured
Written by FeistyLion
Flicking the butt of my cigarette, I ignore the incessant vibration of my phone against my leg. I was late. Really late, to be more precise. Exhaling smoke from my mouth, I drop the cancer stick into the ashtray. It was a terrible habit, and one that I'd recently developed. Turning my gaze to the amber colored liquid residing in the glass tumbler in front of me, I lift it to my lips and take a swig, letting the alcohol rest on my tongue before swallowing it completely. I wasn't a big fan of scotch, but today, I was definitely a fan of the burn it provided. My gaze focuses on the ring of perspiration left on the wooden bar top. The bartender had given me a coaster, but I disregarded it as I did most things these days. In doing so, I left a mark on the worn wood, where so many marks had been left before. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that mine was fresh, or the simple knowledge behind the reason I sat in a dingy bar wasting my day away, but my water stain seemed more prominent than the others. Bringing the glass tumbler to my lips again, I swallow the remaining liquid before standing and tossing some money on the counter. I didn't want to ponder my scars, but it appeared that regardless of the atmosphere, it was inevitable. Pushing the door open, I step out into the blinding sunlight and squint my eyes up at the sky, aggravated that it was so sunny out on a day that should be gloomy. Feeling the vibration of my phone begin again, I reach into my pocket and pull it out as I start walking the two blocks towards where I know my family to be. Bringing the phone to my ear, I'm immediately assaulted by my sisters voice.
"Edward! Where are you?! Do you know how worried we've been? You said you were coming. I understand that today is-"
I cut her off before she can finish her sentence. "I'm well aware of what today is, Alice. I don't need you to remind me, but thanks anyways."
She lets out an exasperated sigh, irritation tainting her once concerned voice. "You really need to be here, Edward. It's about Anth-"
Halting my strides on the sidewalk, I inhale a sharp breath. "Alice, what don't you guys fucking understand? I have enough goddamn reminders that its the anniversary of my sons disappearance. I don't want to gather in a room and talk about him. Not today."
Pulling the phone from my ear, I hear Alice's muffled voice say, "Edward, you don't under-" as I abruptly end the call.
Dragging a hand down my face, I start walking. Just as I'm about to slip my phone back in my pocket, it starts buzzing again. Sighing deeply, I glance down expecting Alice's name, and freeze. The name flashing across the screen is one that I never expected to see again, a name that my family knew better than to bring up around me. My heart stops beating, only to restart at pace so high that I unconsciously raise a hand to my chest as I bring my phone to my ear, my voice cracking as I speak.
"Bella?"
After a brief hesitation, a timid voice coated with emotion responds. "Edward?"
An onslaught of memories surface, and I'm brought back to two years ago, the last time I heard Bella's voice. She'd taken Anthony to the park, as she usually did on Saturday's that I had to work. It started raining, and it was when they were leaving that the events that flipped my world upside down occurred.
When she explained what had happened, I tried to picture it. I tried to visualize my wife being beaten near the brink of death, and our son being ripped from the backseat, never to be seen again. I tried to imagine the man that she described, a man who could tear apart a family that had done nothing wrong. My mind wasn't capable of creating such a monster.
When she told me she was leaving, that she couldn't live with herself and face me everyday knowing that it was her fault our son was gone, I tried to stop her. I begged, I pleaded. She was just as stubborn as she always was, and she had made up her mind. It wasn't her fault, and I told her as much with tears streaming down my face as she walked out of my life. I hadn't seen her since, though I knew she still held hope of finding Anthony, the same hope that coursed through my veins.
Pushing the memories back, I breath in a ragged breath. She said she wouldn't call... Not unless.. "They... Found him? Is he alive?"