Full Summary: Bella Swan was raped, but she doesn't have anybody to tell. When she goes into a free clinic at the hospital and meets the gorgeous Doctor, Edward Cullen, she has finally found the person she can talk to. But Edward can't help her. So Bella will do whatever it takes to confide in the one person who is the most dangerous to her.
A/N: This story was thought up pretty quickly. But anyway, I'm not sure if it's one of the normal "Bella was raped, what will she do" stories that are published every day on here. So I've tried to make it as different from those as possible. I know this chapter isn't great, but please just bare with me. Anyway, please enjoy, and review, review, review!
Thank you!
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Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they belong to Stephenie Meyer. I do, however, own this story line.
Chapter 1-Sanctuary
BPOV
The wind whipped through my hair as I ran to the front door. Rain water spilled down my face like tears, soaking the thick shirt under the rain jacked I left open.
The key slipped through my wet fingers as I reached for it under the eve.
"Just lovely," I whispered to myself. I slowly leaned down to grab the sliver of metal from the puddle of mud it was floating in when the pain came. I could feel the ache shoot through my stomach like a burning lancet-like twenty burning lancets-and tears began to mingle with the cold water decorating my face.
I pulled back, leaning against the wooden door and massaging my stomach in slow circles. My head fell back, smacking smartly against the worn wood and I sagged against it, sliding to a crouch on the muddy concrete steps.
It had all become too much. I couldn't live this life and see all the details it brought, without bringing the agony-physical, emotional, and physiological. I couldn't stand it. It was easier to see my actions and feelings as simple directions. Go to school. Get in car. Look happy.
So that's how I see the world now. Simple directions followed by simple actions created a simple solution-no pain, or at least a stifling of it.
I could've been sitting there for hours below the pounding storm, simply trying to rub my suffering into nonexistence.
But as soon as I heard my neighbor's voice calling my name over the rumbling thunder, I lurched forward to grab the key, ignoring the stabs the action provided to my gut, and stumbled into the front hall.
I slowly shed my clothes as I made my way upstairs, barely containing the moans clawing up my throat. My bag made a thud as it dropped to my floor, and the ancient computer barely crackled on as I stabbed the power button.
It took a while, but I was finally able to reach the site.
I could barely stand what I saw.
"Chlamydia" was printed in big words at the top of the page. Underneath it was written, "Chlamydia is a common sexually transmitted disease caused by the bacterium, Chlamydia trachomatis." But my eyes stopped at the sexually transmitted disease part.
I had gone onto one of those websites where you could find your disease by typing in symptoms. But this had to be wrong. I couldn't have an STD. It just wouldn't be fair if I did have one.
I read the symptoms, trying to prove that this had to be wrong. I read through them all, trying to find one that didn't fit. I pulled my arms in against my chest and curved my back. Become smaller, my brain simply instructed.
If I became smaller, then there should be a smaller amount of torment to endure.
I checked another website. This one wouldn't match what I have, I told myself, half hoping that it was true. But the masochistic side of me was feeding the fire of constant doubt slowly growing in my gut.
The symptoms were the same, so I checked another, and another, unconsciously setting myself up for hope each time .
Each site listed the same symptoms.
I leaned back in my chair, barely feeling it as tears clouded my vision and rolled down my cheeks. It had only been two weeks. I could stand this. I could live with this. It wasn't a big deal. It was all my fault and I had to live with the consequences.
My finger slammed into the power button on the computer. Charlie wasn't home yet, which was a good thing. I'd been trying to hide this from him for two weeks. I think he was becoming suspicious of something, but he would never confront me about it. He shied away from confrontation and he wouldn't want to ruin my privacy, especially since I'd only been here for about a month.
Even my friends, Jessica and Angela, were wary when ever I was around them. Every time I'd sit with them, they would stop their conversation and start talking about something inconsequential like the weather, or the biology homework.
But they didn't know what happened; they could never know what happened.
Stop, my mind said. So I simply ended the train of thought, waiting for the relief it would bring.
I pulled my legs up on the chair, wincing as the bruises were squished in my cramped position. My back ached, and my stomach hurt, but I just sat there, looking out through my window. I was hoping to go home. I was trying to get away from the memories.
But this cloudy, dark town wasn't helping matters much. So I had to depend on myself to distract my mind from the past.
The front of my shirt was nearly soaked through now with both tears and rain alike. But it was only water. I pulled it off and threw it in the basket on top of a dozen other shirts that had been soaked as well. There were only two or three more clean ones left. As I pulled one out, it was large and blue, I tried to avoid looking at the black garbage bag stuffed in the corner.
I tried not to remember that my favorite pair of jeans was in there, nearly burned to a crisp.
The shirt rubbed against my cuts as I pulled it over my head.
I glanced out the window again, trying to forget that this was exactly the way the sky looked that night in Port Angeles.
I could feel the burn behind my eyes. If I didn't stop now then I wouldn't have any more shirts left.
Stop, my brain commanded once more. So I forced the sting to back away. Now go, it said, as soon as the threat had gone.
I needed to get to the hospital. I would prove to myself that I did not have an STD. I pulled on a large grey sweater and my rain boots before hurrying out to my truck and heading for the free clinic.
EPOV
Each day here was the same. It was a small hospital, in a small town, with very small problems.
Today I was working in the clinic. It was one of the more boring requirements of this job.
"Patient for you, Edward, exam room 2," the nurse said in a very flirtatious voice. She was handing out an unusually thick patient folder. I made a note of her name, Marie, and took the chart from her hand. I flipped through it, looking at exams and histories covered in notices of broken bones and concussions.
Bella Swan was the name. She was 17 years old, and the daughter of the Chief of Police. She sounded interesting compared to the other people in this town. She also sounded like she had a balance problem.
I peered through the window, trying to see this Bella Swan. She was small, fragile even. Her long brown hair was thin, and oily as it dangled around her face. She had huge purple rings under her eyes, and she seemed to be drowning in a grey sweater.
Her arms were crossed across her chest and her eyes were darting back and forth around the room. She looked like a trapped animal, and her heartbeat was fast-too fast to be normal.
Something terrible must have happened to her.
I opened the door to her room and opened the chart.
"Hello Ms. Swan, what can I help you with today?" But the words were barely out of my mouth when that smell hit me. It was strong, it was violent, and I was ready for the attack. My muscles tensed, and the venom pooled in my mouth.
"Um," she said, her voice breaking in the silence of the room, "Um, I think I have an STD." She looked down and blushed, and her scent rammed into me again.
I was staring at her, and I couldn't keep my mind even remotely human. I couldn't pull my self away, but I had to. I stopped breathing. I nodded my head. And with the last bit of air I had left in my lungs, I said, "I'll get you tested."
The door slammed behind me. I was already running upstairs looking for Carlisle. Down in the clinic I could hear the nurse checking on Bella to see if there was an emergency.
Good, I thought, at least she'll be treated.
It wasn't until I reached Carlisle's office that I heard Bella Swan say, "Is Doctor Cullen alright? His eyes were pitch black."
A/N: Please review, I accept flames or criticism, but I love the good stuff. Thanks for reading!
