Silence is Golden 2.
"Who are you?" He demanded angrily and loudly. "What what are you doing in my room?"
The shock of the man's voice terrified me so much I shook and dropped the frame I was holding onto the hardwood floor where it smashed. Before the angry person had a chance to react I dropped to my knees and began to sweep the glass into my hand quickly, terrified the mess would make him even angrier.
"What the hell have you done" he demanded taking loud steps towards me; instinctively I threw myself backwards, out of his way. In doing this however I smacked my head on the desk and clenched onto the glass in my hand too tightly. This didn't deter him however, he reached forward to grab my arm and even though I flinched out of his way, he grabbed hold of me. "Look!" He said shaking my hand so I opened my palm. Small pieces of glass had buried themselves into my hand and blood was protruding from the wounds. I inhaled and went dizzy with the smell of the irony blood. I felt the colour drain from my face and I started to heave. "Woah!" the boy said, "You're gonna puke". With that he hauled me off the floor, ignoring my meek cries of protest and flung me into the bathroom holding me in his arms over his toilet as I vomited whilst sobbing and whimpering. This was it. They were going to kill me...I'd been in a room I probably shouldn't have been in, touching the master's belongings and breaking them. Then I bled all over them and threw up. I mentally cursed myself.
When I finished heaving, and only small whimpers escaped my throat, the man set me down on the floor. He silently took my hand and to me over to the sink where he ran my hands under a cool stream of water, keeping hold of them tightly when I tried to move them from under the water. It was painful. "That was a stupid thing to do" he snapped. "What the hell were you doing in my room anyway?" I looked up at him for the first time and recognised him immediately. The big round eyes, windswept hair and chiselled jaw were all familiar. It was the boy from the picture, only older...his eyes weren't as bright now, and he certainly wasn't smiling. In fact, he was downright angry. I quickly looked away from him, embarrassed and scared, a tear rolled down my cheek. "Oh for god's sake don't go crying!" he snapped frustration in his voice. I wiped my cheek on my shoulder and bit my lip in an effort to prevent more tears escaping. He sighed loudly. "Your hands look free from glass. Now get out my room, I don't want to see you in here ever again, understand?" I nodded, praying he wouldn't demand verbal confirmation. "Go!"
I jumped and bolted from the room, running and leaping over his piles. I bailed out of the room and into the hallway looking behind me to make sure I wasn't being followed. As I twisted my head to see behind me I collided with a solid mass and rebounded, falling backwards onto my behind on the floor. I shook my head, trying to clear the dizziness and tears that still threatened to escape. I looked up and to my horror saw Dr. Cullen towering over me, hands on his hips looking very unimpressed. "What's going on?" he demanded. I just looked at him. He ran his hands through his hair "Ugh. I forgot its yes and no answers only with you isn't it. Are you bleeding?" I looked down at my hands and saw that they had begun to bleed again. I held them towards him to confirm he was correct but looked away swallowing hard. He looked in the room I'd just emerged from "Is Edward in?" he asked. I nodded, shuddering at the idea of being in the room as both of them at the same after what had just happened.
"Edward!" He yelled.
Edward casually strolled out of his room and looked at me on the floor. "What's she doing on the floor?" he asked, leaning coolly against the door frame.
"She ran into me," Dr. Cullen explained. "Want to tell me why she was running out of your room a million miles an hour and why her hands are bleeding?"
"Ask her" Edward spat defensively, folding his arms and shrugging.
"Believe me son, I would if I knew I would get an answer but she can't speak. So I'm asking you what happened."
I stared at the ground waiting for Edward to rat me out to my master, to tell him how I snuck into his room and broke his belongings. Waiting for the beating to start, I trembled and pulled my arms back into my chest.
There was a pause of silence before Edward said "She uh...I mean I smashed that picture frame of Jake and I and so told her to clean it up quickly, I guess she figured she didn't have time to get a brush so she tried to clean it up with her hands. It's my fault, I should have explained to her properly what to do" I looked up at Edward, confused and surprised that he would lie.
There was a moment of silence before Dr. Cullen responded, "Be more careful next time Son, young slaves sometimes are not competent or brave enough to think about what they're ordered to do. Come on Isabella, let's go bandage your hand." I stood up to follow him.
"Wait, Dad, how old is she?"
"Fifteen." Dr. Cullen said. I hesitated beside Edward for a moment until Dr Cullen clicked his fingers and I jolted back to reality and rushed to follow him. I heard Edward sigh behind me, and I turned in time to see him shut the door to his bedroom. I caught back up with Dr. Cullen and followed him into his study where in silence he wrapped strong smelling bandages around my sliced hands. After Dr. Cullen finished his repairs he sent me downstairs to make dinner. I hadn't realised how late it had gotten.
Downstairs, I stood in front of the fridge which was stocked full of food attempting to decide what to make. I was a little apprehensive, having never had to prepare a meal all by myself before. Before I'd always had several other slaves helping. At least I only had to rely on myself. I took a step back and sighed, tilting my head to one side still examining the contents of the fridge.
There was enough food in there to make a selection of different dishes, I was struggling to decide on one, not knowing what the family usually ate or liked. After a few moments I gave up and decided to make a homemade pizza with salad and a mix of spicy and non-spicy potato wedges, just to be on the safe side. I spied the cheese on the shelf right at the top and stretched up to get it, my finger tips barely reaching the edge of the shelf, even on the very tips of my toes. I was unsurprisingly short given my upbringing, mediocre amounts of food and nutrients definitely inhibit your ability to grow. I attempted to jump to reach the shelf but only succeed in punching the glass shelf. I shook my already injured hand out and resorted to stretching again. Suddenly a hand appeared above mine onto the shelf. I jumped in fright, pulling my own hand to my body I spun to see who was behind me. It was Emmett, he was very close to me... only inches away, with one hand against the fridge door, and the other stretched up to the dairy shelf on the other side of me. I tried to shake off the fear of being trapped and reminded myself to breathe.
"Trying to get this?" He asked holding out the packet of mozzarella in front of me. I nodded gratefully taking it from him. "Maybe we should buy you a ladder." he said chuckling to himself.
I didn't find it a particularly funny joke but was used to worse 'wise-cracks' at my expense so simply nodded in acknowledgment and moved away to turn the stove on.
I prepared the dinner, taking a little longer than I'd hoped to as I had to rummage through all the drawers to find certain utensils. This delay meant that the family were seated before I was able to plate up the dinner. I scurried into the oak panelled dining room as the last person, Edward sat down. I kept my eyes downcast as I set the pizza down in the middle of the table. I heard one of the boys comment, evidently surprised but impressed at the homemade pizza in front of them and I smiled to myself. When I took the potato wedges and salad into the room Dr. Cullen looked at me sceptically.
"Did you miscount?" He asked me.
Miscount? What did he mean? I made a massive pizza because I know how much men can eat... and plenty of salad. And set places for four. That was enough... I swallowed and shook my head, confident I had not miscounted.
"There are four dinner places, correct?" He asked, I nodded, "And there are four of us, correct?" I nodded again, what was wrong then... "And one of you...that makes five! You're a place short."
They expected me to eat with them? I narrowed my eyes slightly, trying to understand why they would expect that. Surely I would put them off their food, a servant girl, a slave eating with them at an actual table, with an actual portion of food, not just scraps. They never told me I was supposed to eat with them... or did they? I don't remember. Oh god, maybe they did tell me and I forgot...I'm going to be in so much trouble. I bit my lip and looked down, panicking internally.
"I don't think she knew she could eat with us Dad..." Emmett said.
"It would appear not son." Dr. Cullen replied to his son. "Isabella, get yourself a plate and some cutlery and join us please."
I paused, processing this demand, rocking myself back into motion when he snapped his fingers. This action was fast becoming habit between the two of us.
As I got a plate and got settled the men piled food up on their plates. Once they'd filled up, I tentatively took a slice of pizza myself and a couple of wedges.
"Don't like your own cooking? If you're not eating it, it doesn't bode well for the rest of us" Jasper laughed looking at me. I nodded quickly wanting to reassure them the food was edible. They all laughed this time.
I felt on edge as I tried to eat, barely listening to the others conversation – afraid of eavesdropping, which meant I lost my appetite and just pushed the food around on my plate instead. I was thinking about my old life and how I never would have sat at the master's table.
Dr Cullen cleared his throat after a while and I looked up, blinking back into reality, "You can leave if you're finished."
I gratefully pushed my chair away from the table at the same time as the boys who were eager to leave.
"Not you Isabella." Dr Cullen said clearly. I stopped, frozen on the spot. "You haven't finished! You and I are going to sit here until you do."
The boys and I exchanged glances as they continued to leave the table, albeit slowly. "You're much to skinny; you'll collapse one of these days. Sit. Eat." Dr. Cullen commanded. Immediately I sat down and picked my fork up again.
I felt nervous and therefore nauseous as he sat and watched me eat. I had do take small bites in order to be able to swallow. I wanted to hurry as he seemed impatient but I just found it so difficult to do so.
After what seemed like forever (but was in fact only 15 minutes) I swallowed the last piece of pizza and put my knife and fork down, looking up at Dr. Cullen expectantly.
"Very good" he said to my amazement. My heart stopped, I'm sure of it. And I'm sure I must have looked like an idiot to him, my jaw hanging low, mouth wide open, eyes alert and surprised. He chuckled. "You don't have to look so amazed Isabella. It's only a compliment."
But that's why I was so shocked... I'd never been given praise or a complement for eating, for anything, in fact. All my memories of food and my masters involved beatings and shouting. It was not a pleasant connection, and one I tried to avoid if at all possible. I was taken aback. It was a new sensation I felt within me, knowing I'd done something right. I restrained myself from smiling, and opted for an appropriate and polite curtsy, picking up the plates and rushing away from the awkwardness and into the kitchen.
After my chores were done for the evening, I snuck upstairs to my room and locked the door. I showered and put on my soft cotton pyjamas that felt wonderful against my scarred skin and settled under the quilts on my bed.
I'd survived my first day at least. I wondered how many more I would survive here.