A/N: Hello Twihards, Readers! So, here's Part I, when the drama begins... Please review otherwise there will be more of a delay for the next part - I need to know if you like it in order to know if it's worth posting!
P.S. Oh my lord - ROBSTEN (Rob & Kristen) at the SWATH Premiere - I love them!
Kristen has said that she definitely wants to work with Robert on a completely different project other than Twilight... I'm soexcited for this! BRING IT ON!
PEACE AND LOVE,
x x x x x STARSWalkBACKWARD x x x x x
"Hey Mr. Pinochet,
You've sown a bitter crop.
It's foreign money that supports you,
One day the money's going to stop.
No wages for your torturers.
No budget for your guns.
Can you think of your own mother,
Dancin' with her invisible son?
They're dancing with the missing,
They're dancing with the dead.
They dance with the invisible ones,
They're anguish is unsaid.
They're dancing with their fathers,
They're dancing with their sons,
They're dancing with their husbands,
They dance alone,
They dance alone."
––'They Dance Alone' - Sting, 1987.
(For the Cold War victims of Argentina and Chile.)
God Bless The Broken Road
Part I
We were warned the moment we stepped off the plane, as well as the moment we stepped on - Do not speak against the country or its government. Rumour was that secret police were everywhere, both in uniform and not, and that they listened to everything everyone said, and would take anyone away who defied the laws of the land.
Though the military regime was powering up, the signs were not obvious at first that anything was different––other than the uniformed regime officials who patrolled. But other than that, Buenos Aires looked like Buenos Aires should; busy and colourful.
As it turns out, visitors, particularly from first world countries such as America, were not in danger in big cities if they played the game; followed all rules respectively. The authorities let visitors come and go easily, especially the better off ones, as to not draw attention to themselves.
On my first day arriving in Buenos Aires, the air was hot and humid, but the sun was not high in the sky. It was April, so not the immensely hot season, however the air was still heavy with moisture that left you sweaty and dehydrated at the same time. I loved it, though. I'd missed it. Heat was something I was used to, what with my mom living in Jacksonville, Florida, and before that, Arizona. The heat was somehow comforting to me.
It was the same in this case. I felt more at home in Argentina, a place I'd never visited before, than I had the last month of being with my dad, Charlie, in Forks, Washington. I decided I would move in with him, to give my mom the chance to travel with her new husband, Phil. I love them both, so I decided I could give them that, at least.
Sadly though, that also means living under a near-constant cover of clouds and rain with Charlie, who, like me, barely speaks and doesn't huber. Basically, things couldn't be quieter, especially in a town with a mere population of 5120 people. That's why I basked in the buzzing nature of the city I found myself in. Everything like clockwork, yet still latin and beautiful. Yes, that's exactly what it all was to me: utter beauty.
Plus it meant time away from Forks, where I still hadn't found any comfort at all.
Our hotel was nice, and, most importantly for Jessica and her 'frizz-ball' hair, perfectly air conditioned. I was relieved to be sharing a room with both Angela and Jessica. Though Angela was the only one of the two that I considered to be a close friend, I was glad for both of them, because they keep each other busy. Meaning I could just take the city in without being required to carry out excessive shopping excursions or conversations about guys.
All the males in Forks I had met were not at all the type I would consider for a relationship. They were mostly immature and trivial. In fact, Jacob Black, a childhood friend of mine also from Forks, who was only a sophomore, was more mature than a huge proportion of the seniors on this trip.
We had a tour of Buenos Aires within the first thirty-six hours of arriving. Sleep did not seem to be an option, or even a necessity. Good job, as I was feeling rather nocturnal anyway.
This nocturnal feeling did not leave me, and by our second night in Argentina, I was lying wide awake in our dim hotel room, staring at nothing. Eventually, I picked up my room key, pulling on a sweater and jeans, and left the room, with no destination in mind. I hurried through the foyer, only to hit a wall of something, hard, and fall to the ground. Though my falling over happened frequently, I still found myself blushing heatedly, not quite believing I had just ran right into someone and not seen them there at all.
Suddenly, a hand was at my hip, pulling me off my, now very bruised, butt. I looked up to thank the person, but stopped in my tracks.
And like that, I had laid eyes on Edward Cullen again, and at that same moment, I couldn't breathe.
What was he doing here? Where had he come from?
"I apologise," he said. His voice sounded, deep, intense, but slightly hurried.
"It...it's okay. I'm fine. It was my fault. It should be illegal for me to run..."
I dropped my eyes from his pale, glowing face and bright eyes––that were very gold today––as I felt my emotions overwhelm me.
"It was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going. Again, I apologise."
He seemed anxious and hasty, though calm at the same time.
Suddenly, he was focusing on me hard and frowning, an expression that was deeply set and very common for him. The two of us stayed frozen for what felt like hours. His brow was creased, yet again staring at me as though I was some sort of puzzle he couldn't crack. What was he thinking?
He suddenly looked up, almost as though someone had called his name, then walked away from me towards hotel lounge quickly, away from passing guests and staff, and for some reason, I followed him; moved with him. I'd never willingly followed anyone. This was new.
I felt underdressed in the environment, in jeans and a blue sweater, especially compared to the man in front of me, who was in a perfect shirt and pants that did not possess a single crease.
Suddenly I was determined to keep up with him as he walked away from me, wanting to know what his seemingly persistent problem was. It seemed not even saving me from Tyler's van a week ago had changed his demeanour.
Did he regret saving my life?
That must be it.
I suddenly said, "I didn't realise you were coming on this trip. You weren't on the plane with the rest of us," more as an observation than anything else, but it sounded horribly lame and desperate.
A small crooked smile took over his features. "Slight family mix up. Relatives gave my father the wrong date for their visit," he paused again in his usual manner. "It would have been rude to leave for Argentina without even saying hello."
Why was he always full of so many surprises?
"What are you doing running through the hotel foyer all alone? At this time? You do realise, uh..." His voice was so serene... "We are in South America."
I smiled coyly at him, secretly marveling at his low voice as I spoke. "I couldn't sleep. I think the whole notion of sleep has been forgotten by my brain."
He seemed to find my comment about sleep patterns unusually amusing, as he began to smile, his face creasing with amusement and laughter, breaking his intense puzzled frown. "I know the feeling."
I didn't know what to say to that.
His golden eyes flicked down on me from his height of six foot, two. "Ms Allyson and Mr Collins really doesn't like people wondering round after lights out, you know."
I looked at him, disbelievingly, fascinated that he was using teachers as I way to get out of talking to me. "So, what makes you any different?"
"Nothing in this case," he paused, "Although, I'll have to leave letting her know I've arrived until the morning."
"Why are you here?" I was persistent now. Questions as to who on earth Edward Cullen was had been circling my mind ever since he saved me from that van. How exactly he had managed to run and stop the van was still an agonisingly frustrating concept to me. He had stopped the moving van with his hand––he had dented it. Not only that, but he had managed to get to me in time from all the way across the parking lot, where he had been stood by his Volvo. He denies this persistently. He obviously doesn't realise that he could brush me off with his 'adrenaline rush' and concussion excuses all he liked; I wasn't giving up. I know what I saw.
He took a deep breath in, still not really smiling. "Bella," he started, deliberately moving away from me and ignoring my question. "I told you on the Biology trip to the eco plant, remember?" He looked directly down at me, golden gaze burning. "We shouldn't be friends."
"Well, let's say that we're not and that I have no intention of such a thing," I swallowed. "Then will you tell me how you stopped the van?"
Edward looked irritated. "I told you––"
My jaw tightened hard. "Yeah, well, if you're going to stick that stuff about an adrenaline rush, then you might just your wish after all."
Edward looked bemused by this. "My wish?"
"That we shouldn't be friends. That's what you want, right? Well, I just want the truth. I just can't...stand people lying to me...I," I paused, speaking genuinely. "I know what I saw."
"And what exactly was that?"
I ignored his slightly snide tone. "Yo––" she sighed. "You stopped the van. You pushed it away with your hand. You somehow ran all the way from the other side of the lot. You were by your car."
"Yeah, well, no one's going to believe you, so," he remarked, his upper lip twitching with angst of some sort.
I looked up at him, surprised and bewildered at his suggestion. "I wasn't going to tell anybody, I––" I sighed. "I just want to know."
Suddenly, his head snapped up. "Looks like we have company."
A second later, before I could ask who, Angela was calling me from a considerable distance.
"Bella!"
I swallowed, taking a moment to clear my mind.
"Bella, there you are! I woke up to find you gone. Where were––"
I looked away from Edward to see Angela looking at me with a slightly shocked and confused expression.
"Edward," she said, her voice broken and unclear suddenly. He really did dazzle everybody. "I didn't know you would be here."
"I was just telling Bella," he said, his whole voice and demeanour lacking all the tension that had been there mere seconds before; tension it was clear I had caused. He was suddenly soft and smooth again. "My relatives came from out of town the day we were all meant to leave." His famous crooked grin appeared then. "I was going to catch a plane with all of the rest of the class, except then I considered it would be rude of me not to spend at least sometime with them."
Angela nodded, seemingly very understanding. "Yeah, absolutely. Family's family, right?"
I smiled at Angela's response. She always seemed to say the most courteous things.
"Absolutely," he charmed back, seemingly out of politeness. He laid his eyes on me again for a second. "It's late. Perhaps you should go back to bed, so you can enjoy tomorrow properly. We all should." He looked directly down at me, only this time his golden eyes were more suggestive than before as he spoke. "We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow."
I was hoping that was Edward translation for 'you may get some truth from me yet.'
The next morning, I woke to the memories of a dream I had had the previous night which had an amalgamation of Edward Cullen and his golden eyes.
Golden eyes that weren't always the same colour...
Jessica, Angela and I all got up and dressed quickly once we were woken by Ms Allyson, but didn't get a chance to leave the room until Jessica had straightened her hair.
All I could think at that point was, good job I didn't like to eat much in the morning, because we only just made breakfast.
Edward, of course, wasn't there.
At the time, this confused and agitated me greatly. Where did he go all the time, and why did I care so much? That was the real question.
He reappeared again once we were all preparing to explore Buenos Aires some more on our own. He addressed Ms Allyson about his late arrival with a graceful, effortless charm that only a Cullen could possess. It was quite amusing to watch even a forty year old woman turn to putty in his hands before even a word was spoken.
Next thing I knew, he was making his way over to me as I stood alone, slightly away from the rest of the group.
"Bella," he began, his voice even more irresistible the night before. Was that possible? "Did you sleep alright?"
I squinted at him slightly. How did he know about my lack of sleep? Then I realised, not only was it probably written all over my face, but he had also caught me wondering in the early hours of the morning in the foyer... I inwardly cringed.
"Yeah," I answered, somewhat lowly, my voice deliberately filled with complacency. "It was okay."
"No Olympic running in the foyer before breakfast, then?"
I let out an amused breath. "As I said; it should be illegal for me to run."
"That's probably true. You seem awfully accident prone, what with the ice, and then Tyler's truck..."
I let out a breath, again unsure of how to reply to him. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I am. Ice really doesn't help the uncoordinated. That's why I love the heat. It can't... do anything to me."
He seemed to tense at my words, as if they somehow affected him on a personal level.
At that time I hadn't realised the intense irony what I had just implied.
We were told we could split up into very small groups to make our way around the surrounding area, and, most importantly, we could choose our own groups.
I was about to play it safe and ask Angela, but that's when I remembered Edward.
I suppose, strange though it was, I felt sympathy for him, as he didn't have his siblings with him as he always did before. To me, here in Argentina, alone, he simply seemed even more isolated and lonely than I had ever seen him be.
My mind flashed back in that moment to the first day I ever saw the Cullen siblings, as they entered the school cafeteria in Forks. Each of them had arrived in their usual, intimate pairs: Emmett, the tall jock, and Rosalie, the beautiful stunning blonde; then the sweet and pixie looking Alice entered twirling, hand-in-hand with Jasper, who, as Jessica had rather curtly said, always look like he was in pain. Then, seemingly always a few motions behind, entered Edward. He was alone, and looked incredibly solemn and heavy with thought; almost as though he had the weight of a thousand planets on his shoulders and his mind. I remember distinctly how I had watched them each take a seat at their back table that day. It may have been wrong to observe them this way––so intently––but, similarly to the rest of the student body, I was quite simply, utterly fascinated by them. In particular though, I was totally infatuated by the one Cullen who was always by himself. I quickly became spellbound by Edward. I had always noted he sat slightly set apart from the others; not always engaging in conversation unless the dark-haired one, Emmett, egged him to, or pixie-looking Alice, smiled his way kindly, encouraging him.
It was as I stood watching the students from Forks under the heavy set, bright clouds try to decide on groups, that I was able to pin-point what it was about Edward in Argentina that was so different from the Edward I had observed in Biology.
I realised that without the security of his siblings he somewhat resembled a a fish out of water; except, he was more like...a fish out of water, that could breath.
This somewhat out-of-place thought seemed to materialise in my mind out of nowhere, and it made no sense. But then I pieced it together and really thought about it. My stupid analogy did in some ways make sense; because he did appear, while in Argentina, almost like 'a fish out of water,' because he was out of his usual environment, without the comfort of his siblings; he looked tense and more...lost all the time, if that word could be used. However, he wasn't a floundered fish; he did appear panicked. He was the fish that walked on land that could breath air. Though he seemed out of place and painfully noticeable, there was no obvious outward panic; no floundering.
I only saw the subtle change, my guess, because I had so bluntly observed him throughout the days he appeared in school. I must catalogued so many aspects of him sub-consciously, because it was when he appeared so lost and alone that I began to notice what was missing.
If there was one thing I would have never expected Edward Cullen to be, it was what I was seeing: out of place and alone. It was something that, by the look of his appearance and the perfect composition of his every word, I would have never believed. Only, I knew it was true, because I was witnessing it in that moment––as I looked at him through the clusters of grouping seniors.
So, that must have been why I found myself approaching non other than Edward Cullen during the deciding of the groups––something it seemed non of the others had the courage or, to be honest, decency, to do.
I could feel Jessica gaping with shock from behind me, and Angela smiling with what seemed like both disbelief and pride.
"Do you have a group?" I asked, mustering all my left over courage.
He seemed to look down at me for a long moment, somewhat disbelieving himself. "No..."
I smiled slightly at him. "Would you like come in a group with us?" He seemed extremely bemused by my invitation, which made me wish he would accept all the more, because he shouldn't feel so surprised; he should be made to feel wanted. After all, he deserved it. "Come," I said, as a rather weak persuasion. "Come with us... I mean, have some fun."
He took a long moment to consider my offer, taking a deep intake of breath. "Will you still be insisting on getting answers?"
I just smirked, slightly. "Yes."
He paused, then looked down at me with his golden gaze. "I suppose I shouldn't prolong the inevitable."
He then, to my complete amazement, followed me as I joined Jessica, Angela, Mike and Marc. We were given a map of the main points in the area to visit, which the four of them immediately took control of. Edward and I let them, as we naturally began to lag behind.
We visited Mataderos where there were so many pretty colours and folk music playing everywhere, all through the streets. Then we were taken in a mini-bus to La Boca where all the houses were painted traditionally in beautiful hues of reds and pinks. Angela and I couldn't resist fitting in a quick visit to the see art work of artist Benito Quinquela Martín. All the pieces were exquisite, however, my thoughts were focused almost completely on the exquisite pale, golden-eyed god walking behind me, who was practically a piece of art himself. He ended up murmuring quiet synopsis's of the art in front of us. This made me want to laugh. Why was I not surprised? Of course Edward Cullen had been here before. It was as though he was a walking, talking guide book.
As we made our way to the Plaza de Mayo, a sixteenth century square, Edward was practically a mute, a contrast to the murmurings he had come out with in the art museum. I smiled at him and he smiled back in that subtle way of his, which was enough to make my insides flutter, despite his silence.
Once we arrived, we made our way through crowds of people. Flutters of Argentinean Spanish surrounded me, and it was all I could do not to gawk at the pure culture that filled the air. One thought kept circling my mind in that moment: How on earth could I go back to Forks after this?
"Immersive, isn't it?"
Edward's voice was suddenly in my ear, low, serene and smooth.
"Exceedingly," I murmured, suddenly out of breath.
Edward looked somewhat smug as we both lagged behind the others, breaking through the crowds of Argentinean's. He had a slightly airy confidence about him, which I supposed could be easily mistaken for arrogance. No wonder though, considering how completely magnificent a creature he is.
Suddenly, the Plaza was revealed in all it's paved glory. The Casa Rosada, the Presidential Palace, Edward tells me, is to the east. The large regal balcony high above was where Argentina's regime leader General Pinochet liked to address the people. My breath caught at the sight of the stunning pillar monument that towered above us in the centre of the square, creating shadows along the beautiful paved floor. I looked to my left, and smiled in awe of the fascinating old colonial building fronted with arches across from us.
"What's that?" I murmur, somehow knowing he would hear me.
Edward looked up at the arched building, coming to stand next to me. "It's called The Cabildo," he informed me, speaking the name in what I could tell was an absolutely flawless Spanish accent. "It once encircled the whole plaza back during the May Revolution in 1810."
I looked at our surroundings again, completely disregarding the fact that the others had made their way off to get closer look, leaving Edward and I alone, surrounded by nothing but the beautiful poetry of the Spanish language mingling with the sound of the breeze.
"You have relatives from here, right?"
"I have relatives from many different places, South America is one of them."
I turned to him, smiling slightly. "Do you speak Spanish?"
He smiled that beautiful genuine smile as he laughed that caused his whole face to ripple, especially around his beautiful golden eyes. "Some," he said, complacently.
"Some? Somehow I doubt that very much."
He was still chuckling silently, eyes crinkled, before he spoke. "Vale. Me admito, eso era una mentira. Sólo una mentira pequeño, pero sigue siendo una mentira todo lo mismo. Lo siento, Bella."
If I could melt to liquid on the paved ground right then and there, I would have. Not because of the weather––it wasn't at all as hot as it was in other parts of year––but because he had sent my heart into a frenzy.
Just when I thought he really couldn't get any more beautiful––more mesmerising––blow me, he did.
He was chuckling silently to himself again by the time I came to. I looked at him, my mouth still hanging open. "What...what did you just say?" I asked, sounding winded.
He moved slightly closer to me, but not close enough. "That I admit that what I said had been a lie, a small lie, but a lie all the same. I apologise, Bella," he said, teasingly. "You were right. I do speak more than some Spanish."
I took in a breath. "Hate to break it to ya', but that sounded much more in depth in Spanish."
He thankfully realised my joke, and laughed, actually releasing sound for once, and it was a magical sound, like a beautiful symphony orchestra. "I agree with you. The English language is so trivial compared to that of Mediterranean language speaking countries. There is more meaning behind the most common of phrases in languages like Italian, than in any English phrases."
We started walking towards the tall monument pillar as I spoke. "Such as?"
Edward didn't seem to have to think about that one. "In Italian, there are over one hundred ways to say 'I love you.' Most, when translated, mean the most minimal things in English, but that's precisely my point. To Mediterranean's, words are so much more than words. Words are expression."
I smile at his sudden passion. A side of him I had never seen before. "I'm guessing by your vigor that you speak Italian too?"
He smiled, showing parts of his pearly white teeth. His golden eyes were laughing. His mood swings really were erratic. I decided not to address them though and to make the most of it before he turned distant again.
He silently chortled, again repeating, "Some."
I laughed, loudly, something that was rather rare for a character like mine. "Can I hear some of that too then?"
He looks straight ahead as we approach the monument, seemingly taking in the moment. "Bella," he sighed, a beautiful Italian accent flowing from his lips, making my name virtually unrecognisable. "Bellezza mediterranea mi affascina. Qui in Argentina, Musica e colore sono Le Finestre dell'anima."
That really did it.
I knew it then. I adored him, by now I knew that. But after that I felt like I could love him. I felt a deep urge to admit it to him, that, given the chance, I could love him, I really could. I knew that now.
Edward Cullen. What had he done to me?
"Wow. Do you speak Ancient Egyptian too?" I joked.
He squinted, amused. "No..." His lips pursed in amusement. "Well, not yet anyway."
I laughed. Actually laughed. "Not yet. I can believe it." I wouldn't be surprised if he did end up learning Ancient Egyptian. He seemed the type.
We reached the monument, and I closed my eyes for a moment as a let my palm touch the cool, smooth stone of the great square pillar. I reached down into my satchel, pulling out the camera Charlie had insisted I bring. I felt my heart thump as I built up the courage to speak to beautiful Edward again.
"My dad, Charlie," I swallowed, "insisted I bring this and take photos of the places we go. Would you mind taking a photo of me in front of this?"
The corner of Edward's lips tugged upward in a subtle smile, as though I had asked a totally unnecessary question. "Of course."
Slowly and nervously, I placed the camera in his palm, slightly sad when our skin didn't touch, and walked to lean awkwardly against the monument. Edward was suddenly very far away by the time I turned and looked up at him. I stood still, not quite sure what to do next as he held the camera up to his face. I looked down at my feet, embarrassed by my awkwardness, and I was surprised a second later to see Edward was suddenly closer, only three maybe four meters away. He bought the camera to his face again, quietly chuckling.
"What?" I questioned, quickly, self-consciously.
Edward bought the camera down from his face, and I felt my stomach flutter at the look in his eyes. "Smile, Bella. You look as though you're having a torturous time. I'm not that boring, surely..."
I was still hesitant to show him my camera smile I hated so much.
He called for my attention again. "Smile, Bella."
I tried as best I could, I truly did. Just for him. Just for Edward.
As he stepped back up the steps, an elderly Argentinean couple crossed his path at the same time, almost walking into him.
"Ah, lo siento, Señora," he murmured apologetically to warm-looking woman, who smiled back and murmured Spanish to him. I wanted to sit and swoon repeatedly over this. The near-collision clearly was not his fault, yet he still looked at the sweet elderly woman so earnestly and apologised in her own native language for something that was not his doing. This seemed to be a recurring theme with Edward Cullen. How could one man be so flawless?
Suddenly, Edward was next to me. To distract myself from my ever-repetitive thoughts, I went to take the camera from his hands, my fingers touching his.
That was the first time I ever touched Edward Cullen, and the sensation caused even my delayed human reactions to kick in as I quickly pulled away, shocked.
His skin was cold as ice.
I couldn't hold in the gasp of surprise that escaped my lips.
He cringed away from me once the exchange had happened. His eyes transformed from the warm, smooth honey tone to an almost solid, dark bronze. He looked away, his jaw set.
"I-I'm sorry," I stammer, not sure what else to say.
He held his head high with tension, a look of almost...disgust marked across his beautiful face.
Did I really repulse him that much? Firstthe obvious attempts of ignoring me at school after than van incident, and now this?
"Don't apologise," he said, quickly, disjointed. "My fault."
I swallowed, preparing for an even worse shunning than the last time I had gotten too close to Edward Cullen...
But, for reasons I still do not understand, this time, it never came.
"Do you still want answers?"
His gentle words shocked me, something that was not unusual for Edward Cullen, however this was really something.
"Yes!" I said, much too quickly. "I...just want the truth."
Edward swallowed and looked up to the sky. I noted in that moment how he always appeared to have the invisible weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Follow me."
I did as he instructed, shadowing his every step as we walked down the steps of the monument and into the wide open space of the plaza. It was then as we were in a shallow open space that I noticed the regime officials in red and black uniforms, who were dotted everywhere you could see. As we walked in amongst the rather crowded scene of the plaza, I could feel eyes on me.
"Edward," I questioned, trying desperately to keep up with him through the crowds of people. "Edward," I called again, making sure my voice could be heard. "The men in red and black, why are they watching us? I thought they were just police... Why are they... Why do people look so afraid of them?"
"Bella," Edward said in a tone that sounded like a warning, although, I wasn't listening.
"Is it just me or they look like they're calculating everyone? I mean, it's as though these innocent people here are all suspicious of crimes, which can't possibly be true." Suddenly, now I really observed and thought about it, I could feel the pressure of the officials stares in the air. I suddenly felt the claustrophobia of Argentina's brutal and strict military society surrounding me. I looked around at the faces of locals here in the plaza, and it was only then that I noticed the worried and burdened expressions on almost every face.
It was then I remembered the military regime's laws I had been briefly told about. Any Argentinianwho was found to be trying to speak out against the regime, even if it was simply rumoured, 'disappeared' and was never seen again, just as the Nazi regime had done in Germany before World War II. Simple as that. Suddenly I couldn't swallow back down the knowledge of this blatantly legitimate kidnapping and oppression of these poor people. I couldn't just sit back and ignore it, so I said words that I know now, I never should have.
"What have these poor people ever done, Edward, to be spied on and watched like this? Because that's what they're doing, isn't it? That's why they stand around so suspiciously. They're calculating which of the innocent they can pass off as a traitors. They're looking for excuses to kill people!" I was trying not to bump into the huge amounts of people in the square as well as trying to keep up with Edward. I almost tripped multiple times, which was no surprise. I was beginning to wonder if he was even listening to me as we began to make our way out of the loud crowds of people, and nearer to a line of officials...
"It's like the regime is picking innocent, bony pigs for slaughter––"
Suddenly, Edward was facing me, grabbing my arm, his ice cold fingers pressing into my skin. Man, he was strong. My skin was tingling as I stared up at him.
"Bella," he said, his voice hard with urgency and concern. We were still hidden behind crowds of people, so the stares couldn't reach us in that moment. A few steps more though and we would be out of the wide open space of the plaza, where they could watch us... There was something about the men in red and black that gave me the most irreversible chills...
"Hold my hand, Bella," he uttered, urgently.
"W-what?" I questioned, quickly losing all the outrage I had been feeling towards the regime and its officials once he spoke. I almost fell then, shock hitting me.
"Toma mi mano, Bella!" he repeated urgently in Spanish this time, knowing full well I had heard him the first time. I had, I was just sure I'd been mistaken.
He took my hand tight in his icy one, the temperature difference so strong that I shuddered, mostly though, with delight though more than anything, because Edward Cullen was touching me.
"I'm so sorry," he muttered of his touching my hand. I wanted to call him ridiculous, wanted to tell him I liked it, but I couldn't find the courage.
I didn't understand why his skin was so cold to touch; it was yet another thing about him that didn't add up. However, I was willing to forget about that for now.
Next, I began to realise that his hand around mine was like stone. Glorious, ice cold, shimmering stone. My grip on his hand didn't seem to imprint into his skin at all, as though I wasn't even holding it, yet it was obvious he was trying not to hold my hand too tightly, trying to control his strength.
My mind suddenly flashed back then to the moment his saved me from Tyler's van, stopping it with his very hands. I had seen it, and despite his denial, I knew it was true. I found it fascinating that the same hands that dented metal so easily were holding my frail ones perfectly. Surreal.
His looked insecure as his hand held mine, suddenly deeply uncomfortable. This was rare, probably the rarest thing that I could ever have imagined to see in Edward Cullen's eyes. It was as though he despised himself for subjecting me to such an icy cold touch. Such a thing, of course, was ridiculous, because right now, with his cool, pale skin pressed against mine, I couldn't be happier. My whole body was fluttering.
Because I was now sure I loved him. No doubt in my mind.
Edward pulled me into his side, his arm around my back and his hand linked with mine. He pulled us from behind the larger crowd, in the general direction of where the others had gone. "I'm sorry," he murmured again, as he noted me staring at his hard, cool skin, running a thumb over his hand, getting a feel of its icy temperature.
I shook my head as we stayed behind another group of Argentineans. "You have nothing to apologise for," I said, equally quietly, looking up his intense expression, his dark slightly frowning eyebrows and his mesmerising golden eyes.
"I promise you I'll explain later," he said, hurriedly. "But right now, would you just do as I ask? Please? And don't say anything, okay?" I nod, keeping silent. With that, he pulled us out from behind another group of Argentineans. He tried to keep our walk in rhythm, to make us look natural as we took each step, his arm around me with our hands linked, as he purred sweet nothings in Spanish in my ear. I guessed he was trying to keep up a false 'couple' facade so that the officials may think they were mistaken by my outburst; that it couldn't have been me that said those things against the regime. Edward was trying to make me appear the weaker one, so that they won't choose to confront me. At least that was my guess.
Problem was, I was weak compared to those uniformed officials, physically anyway, and that was enough for them to use anything I said wrong against me...
Had they heard what I had said in that crowd? Had there been secret police amongst us in the crowds of people? Had they heard me?
Would they act on it, right here, right now, or would they steal me away when no one was looking?
I looked slightly to my left as I was being lead by Edward, following the ever-present feeling of stares, only to see a regime official in red and black staring back at me from yards away, stood higher up on some steps, the lump of a gun under his jacket. As soon as I caught his eye, I felt an icy eery chill run down my spine. I quickly turned into Edward's cool, hard––somewhat marble like––embrace, the stare causing fear to creep up inside me. I nuzzled into Edward. I couldn't help myself. He calmed me.
I tried to concentrate on my breathing, because I realised then that the look in the official's eyes told me one thing.
He had seen my spoken outburst.
Somehow, even from where he stood, I knew he knew what I'd said; it was the glint in his eye. From then, it was obvious: the official was going to report me.
–––ℬ&ℰ–––
