Second Chances

Prologue

"Hey, it's me," the voice on the other line says softly.

As I hold the phone receiver to my ear, I sit up and glance at the alarm clock. 3:32 am. I let out a groan. I had only just gotten to sleep a little more than an hour ago, having spent the majority of my day and night on an airplane flying to Sydney from Chicago and back again.

I slump back down into my pillow and close my eyes, bringing my fingers up to pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Do you realize what time it is, Bella?" I ask her. The aggravation apparent in my tone.

"Yeah, I know it's late. I'm really sorry, Edward, but I need your help," she says. Her voice is barely above a whisper but I can hear a slight tone of fear there.

"Why are you whispering, Love?" I question, all aggravation gone, replaced with sudden concern. I sit up and begin mentally preparing myself for the worst case scenario.

She hesitates before answering.

"I'm in a bit of a bind. I came to this party and there are some pretty intense people here. I'm a little scared and a lot wasted. I was hoping you would come and rescue me?" she says pleadingly.

A sigh escapes my lips as I realize this call is like all the others before it.

"And I suppose a cab is out of the question, huh?" I ask her.

She huffs into the receiver. She knew before she even finished dialing the number what my answer would be. She knows that I will always be here waiting to swoop in on my white horse to rescue her on a moment's notice.

I hear a commotion on the other end and a loud banging sound.

"Bella, what's going on?" I ask her, my fear returning.

"It's nothing. I think I'm tying up the bathroom is all. Listen Edward, I really need a friend tonight and this party is getting out of control. Please say you'll come." She requests of me one last time.

"Give me the address," I relent.

I hang up the phone and grab the jogging pants strewn over the arm of the chair in the corner of the bedroom. I don't bother with a shirt or shoes. I ignore the fact that I probably need a hair brush, opting instead to just run my fingers quickly through my messy hair. I rush into the foyer, grab my keys and wallet, and head out the door to the elevator.

As I head towards the motel Bella has directed me to, I begin contemplating how I got to where I am now – driving much too quickly, down a rain soaked road in the early morning hours, half naked, and groggy from lack of sleep.

I have known Bella my whole life. We grew up together in Forks, WA. Ours was an unlikely friendship even then.

I was the son of the town doctor and had money. She was the daughter of the town drunk and had nothing. But somehow we found our way into each other's lives.

Despite her home life, Bella had always so full of energy that it was sometimes exhausting just carrying on a conversation with her. To everyone around her, she appeared to be a happy kid. Of course, I knew the real Bella. The Bella that was nothing more than a broken girl, an empty shell that felt unworthy of love.

As a child, I had always been a shy kid. My shyness was so severe it was almost crippling. Moving to a new town in the second grade did not help my condition. I was picked on and bullied relentlessly the first week in the new school. I was miserable until Bella came into my life.

I had been sitting alone on a swing, having just been on the receiving end of the class bully's knockout punch, when Bella first approached me. She had a dirty face, dried snot around her nostrils. Her hair was tangled and matted. Her clothes were worn and faded. She walked up to my swing and placed a tiny finger to my blackening eye.

"We match," she said to me softly, bringing her other hand up to her own face and placing a finger to her left eye where the remnants of a blackened eye were just beginning to fade.

In that brief moment, I knew I loved her. She was an angel, my angel. My life had forever been changed with those few simple words.

She took my hand in hers and sat on the swing next to me. We swung for the remainder of recess with our hands joined in silence. That was all it took.

And that's why I now find myself rushing to save her once more.

I spot the motel's neon sign with the burned out letter "T" from the interstate. I take the next exit and pull into the motel parking lot. I get out of the car and begin making my way across the parking lot and down the concrete walkway towards room 13.

I already know how the next few days will play out. I've been doing this for years now and it is always the same. This rescue will be followed by the happiest few days I can imagine. Bella and I living together like a real couple, minus the sex of course. We will spend our hours retelling the few happy stories of our youth. We will curl up on the couch together watching reruns of her favorite show "Seinfeld". Her laughter will fill the air in my cold, lifeless apartment and I will bask in the sound of it. We will hold each other close as often as possible, never letting the bad memories of the past and present invade our space. We will create our own little bubble, allowing ourselves just a brief moment of happiness.

When we have run out of the few happy stories of our youth, she will make empty promises of straightening her life out. She will inquire if I have an entry level position within my company so she can begin steady work. I will tell her about the secretary position that just opened up and then go to work the next day and create a position just for her. I will return home to give her the good news that the job is hers.

But I will find the apartment empty. She will be gone, having taken with her various valuable objects that she can pawn for a few bucks - objects I purposefully leave out for her to take. I will hear from her again in a month or two and the cycle will start all over again.

I know mine is a pathetic existence. I know that I should have cut her from my life years ago. But I can't. I hold out hope for her. I keep hoping with each late night phone call that this will be it and she will have hit the proverbial rock bottom. I continue hoping for the day when she will finally realize that she deserves better than this life she has chosen. I hope that she will overcome the years of abuse inflicted by her father and see that she is worthy of love.

Worthy of my love.

And fuck, do I love her! I admit it. I continue holding on because I hope one day she will return my love.

Some may look at me and accuse me of wasting my life pining for this woman that appears on the surface incapable of love. But they don't know my Bella. They don't know what we have endured together. They will never understand how much I owe her.

I can honestly say that everything I have now I owe to that little girl with the snotty nose who held my hand on the playground that day so many years ago.