Author's Note:

I've been experimenting with Bella and with my writing style. The thing about Twilight that always bothered me was the fact that Bella never really seemed to be all that affected by Edward's controlling behaviour so whilst I was playing around with her, this is what I came up with. Bella may seem a little out of character.

Sorry for any mistakes.

Oh Bella

It was with Herculean effort that Bella refrained from wiping away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. One, and then another, and then another, and then another until they gathered at her chin like warm fingertips and dripped, one by one, onto her t-shirt, leaving dark smudges where they fell and soaked into the material. She wanted to wipe the tears away - of course she did. But she couldn't. Because wiping away her tears would only serve as proof that she was actually crying. And she didn't want to admit that.

And so she sat, salty tears pouring down her cheeks, soaking her shirt, sticky-ing her face with their residue. Her nose running, snot gathering at her upper lip. There was a tissue gripped in hand, waiting for use. But she didn't use it. And she knew how much of a mess she must look, but she couldn't care less. Because how could she care when he didn't care? When he didn't care about how he was making her feel. When he didn't care about how his behaviour affected her and her decisions.

When he didn't care that Jake was right.

It had been an offhand comment. 'Domestic abuse'. But she was beginning to believe that what he said was true.

Controlling her movements, who she saw, where she went. Even to the stage of refusing to leave her alone and having his siblings and family members kidnap her at any given interval.

And she couldn't help but wonder when her angel had become such a…well, she wouldn't think that word. Not because of Edward, no, but because of Carlisle and how that poor, gentle, compassionate man viewed himself because she would not allow herself to put them both into the same category.

She heard the door to the house open from below and let out a sigh. No matter how much she didn't want to admit her weakness, she could not allow herself to be found in such a state.

"Bella?" She heard. Carlisle. She didn't answer. There was no point, he'd find her once he came up the stairs anyway. "Bella?" She heard again, softer this time. A hint of something else in his voice. Concern, worry – why? She realised, with a soft sigh of defeat, that her wiped away tears had quickly replaced themselves, falling again over her reddened cheeks in perfect view of the patriarch.

In the time it took Bella to blink, Carlisle had crossed from the doorway and come to crouch down in front of her. He rested his forearms against her knees, almost as though to hold himself up despite the fact that she knew that he didn't require the support. He looked up at her from his position between her legs and she could see the change in his eyes. His typically topaz irises were a mixture of gold and black, a colour she had never seen before. A colour that she didn't know what it meant.

"Bella, what is it?" He was frantic as he spoke. She'd never heard him so panicked. She could hear it; hear him trying to keep himself calm as he regarded her. Bella was usually the strong one. He'd never seen her cry before. No matter how much she might have wanted to.

"Carlisle." Bella whimpered childishly. And even more childishly she held out her arms for him.

He understood, however, and rose from his crouched position, taking a seat beside her and, in a swift movement, settling her onto his lap. She rested her head against him, hiding her face between his neck and his collar bone as the tears continued to fall, soaking his ice-cold skin and most likely staining his work shirt.

Her hands were balled into fists, the material of Carlisle's shirt trapped within them.

Carlisle rocked slowly, gently, trying to pacify her. He had one hand wrapped tightly around her frame as she cried and the other was combing through her hair. He hummed a tune along with his rocking.

"Talk to me, Bella." He spoke after some time. After the poor girl had slowly begun to calm. "And let me help you."

Typical Carlisle. Always wanting to help. She glanced up at him and still there was that strange colouring to his eyes. She sighed softly, reaching up for a moment, her warm palm resting against the cold skin of his cheek. He kept his mouth closed, allowing her to do so.

"So kind." She whispered and she could see the flicker in his eyes, no doubt wondering whether or not she was delusional. Or high. Or both. "So unlike Edward." She added under her breath.

The habitual rise and fall of Carlisle's chest paused and she froze too, panic setting in and she suddenly remembered the extremely sensitive hearing of vampires.

"Edward did this?" Carlisle asked, his tone disbelieving. Bella didn't blame him. She wouldn't believe her either – not if she knew Edward the way he did. "What did he do Bella?" He asked. And so Bella told him, sobbing her way through the tale. She told him about Edward's behaviour, his attitude and the way he was with her. She told him about his controlling behaviour. And, finally, she told him about what Jake had said.

By the time she had finished, she was clutching onto his shirt again, her chest rising and falling irregularly as she panted through her tears.

"Bella," Carlisle spoke after a moment of evaluating the reason for her tears. "I'm certain that Edward feels as though he is doing the right thing. He is trying to protect you." Bella scoffed at his words but Carlisle continued, undeterred. "He knows how dangerous our lives can be for you and he wants to keep you as well protected as he can. He's just going the wrong way around it. Bella, you have to believe me when I tell you that, despite how it may seem, Edward's behaviour is only so because of how much he loves you. It may not seem so to you, but Edward means no harm. In fact, he means that exact opposite."

"Then why doesn't he care?" Bella demanded suddenly, pulling away from Carlisle, one hand resting against his chest to hold her up as she looked into his eyes. "Why doesn't he care about how much it hurts me? Why doesn't he listen to what I have to say? To what I want?"

"He believes, with his many years, that he knows what is best for you. And sometimes one person's best is another's worst. But I can guarantee, Bella, he doesn't mean to make you feel this way. And I promise that I will talk to him about his behaviour and the way he is acting." She could almost hear the unspoken 'before he drives you away'.

She let herself fall back against his chest, her head laying against his sternum this time, feeling his arms come to rest around her. One hand danced up and down her back from her shoulder to her waist in a bid to comfort her. The other rested on the small of her back.

"I promise you, Bella," Carlisle spoke again, softly, "I promise we'll fix this."

She felt his lips press against the top of her head as he slightly tightened the hug.

"I promise."

Author's Note:

As I've been experimenting with my writing style, it would mean a lot if you could take a couple of minutes to let me know what you think of this story.

Whilst I'm here, I'd love for any prompts that people may have. I'm very big on hurt/comfort, but I don't really have that many ideas at the minute.

Thank you for reading.

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