Hey, everyone! Sorry that it took me a week to update, but I wanted to put a lot of time into it, and I wanted it to be pretty long, so here's chapter two!
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
On the way back to town, I tried to calm my rising fears. My mind was racing, thinking of what I may endure this evening when I had to go back to face Jacob. I knew it wouldn't be pleasant, and I knew that I only had myself to blame for what was to come.
When I pulled into the driveway, I saw Charlie's cruiser in its normal space. The idea of seeing my dad for more than just a moment in passing made me smile. When Jake began making me spend all my time at his house, I lost any time with Charlie that I'd previously had. It made me sad to think that it took me until I never saw him to realize how much I loved spending time with my dad.
I walked in the front door to find my dad sitting on the couch, a baseball game playing on the TV. He turned around, trying unsuccessfully to hide the look of surprise on his face.
"Bells," he said. "You're home early."
"Well, I figured that I'd like to come home and make my old man some dinner for once." I smiled at him, leaning down for a hug.
"Thanks, Bella," he replied fervently. "I sure have missed you. I mean, I'm glad that you get to see Jake a lot, but I sure do miss having you around." He scratched his head, no doubt feeling the undeniable discomfort that each of us felt at voicing our feelings.
"I've missed you, too, dad." I smiled sadly at him, wishing I could tell him why I was never at home. "I really have. I'll see if I can talk to Jacob about maybe spending more time around here."
"I'd like that," he grunted. "Now what's this about a home cooked meal?"
I laughed a bit, then headed to the kitchen to begin work on two pans of quesadillas. The cutting of the veggies and the chicken was calming in a strange way, and I enjoyed the busy work. Any more, cooking was my escape from the hell I was living in. It relaxed me, gave my dad some good food, kept Jacob happy, and put a smile on Billy's face. It was hard to find something bad about cooking now.
After about 30 minutes of preparation, I put one pan of quesadillas in the oven and wrapped one in tin foil, putting it in the refrigerator before heading up to my room to change.
I shut the door behind me, sighing slightly. I'd been doing that a lot today. Fear really began to kick in now, realizing I'd have to face the monster in no time at all. I wished I could go back to the meadow, to the safety of a stranger's arms. A part of me smiled, remembering the beautiful boy I'd been with. If I hadn't been trying to hide from my psychotic boyfriend, I would have enjoyed him much more. Maybe I'd have put forth a feeble attempt to flirt with him, and maybe it would have made him laugh. And maybe my non-flirting would have lead to a date, and another after that.
I shook my head several times, trying to shake the thought from my head. There would never be room for that in my life. Not with Jake around.
Walking over to the closet, I grabbed the first jeans and shirt combination I could find, dressing quickly. I put my hair into a quick braid, hoping that it could appear that I wanted to try to look nice for Jacob. He always enjoyed it when I did. I began to question my hasty choice in outfit, but a glance in the mirror told me that I looked dressier than usual. I smiled slightly, allowing a shred of hope to penetrate my worries. And a shred of hope was all I needed.
I jogged down the stairs and paused, taking a deep, calming breath. Then I got the pan of quesadillas from the refrigerator, removed my dad's quesadillas from the oven, and went to say goodbye.
"Leaving so soon?" It was hard to miss the sadness in his voice.
"Yeah, Jacob texted. Said he needed something." I shrugged, trying to make it seem like nothing, but hearing my dad so sad over my departure made it that much more difficult to force myself to leave. But being early would help me, as would the food and the outfit choice. And I needed all the help I could get.
"Okay. Well, be back soon, Bells. Not too late," he told me. It was what he'd always tell me back when I used to go out with friends after school to Port Angeles.
"Of course, Dad. Love you. Oh, and your dinner is on the counter in the kitchen."
And with that, I left for La Push.
...
I turned off the ignition of the truck, sitting in the cab a moment before gathering my things and heading toward the front door.
I knew Jacob would be waiting for me. He opened the door before I could even attempt to knock. He didn't bother to hide his anger since his father couldn't see. Regardless, he scooped me up into a hug, always too tight, and said, "I missed you, Bella. Why'd you run off?" He was trying to scare me.
"I wanted to go home and see Charlie. I wanted to make him some dinner, make you guys some dinner, change my clothes." My story was carefully worried, in case Jake decided to call my dad after I'd left to double check the details.
"Humph," he grunted, landing on the couch.
Billy rolled into the room, smiling once he saw me. "Bells, you're back."
I smiled in return, always happy to see him. "Of course I'm back, Billy. And I brought quesadillas!" I held out the pan to him and he smiled. "They'll need 15 minutes in the oven, I wanted them to be fresh for my boys." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jacob smile in a satisfied way.
Then, I made my way to the kitchen, setting my purse down on the kitchen table before pre-heating the oven for the quesadillas.
And so began my evening ritual.
I walked back into the living room, asking the two if they wanted anything to drink. Jacob gruffly answered "Coke", and Billy requested, "a water please, with some ice if you could." I laughed, knowing he was being funny and trying to be polite. He was in such stark contrast to his son, it was astonishing.
After furnishing the boys with their drinks, I put dinner in the oven and set the timer. Since I had time to spare, I cleaned the kitchen as much as I could. It was nearly spotless after cleaning it yesterday, but I knew anything I could do to be a dutiful girlfriend could only help me, so I cleaned again. I set the table, three place mats, three plates, three glasses, three forks, and three knives. The table was barely large enough for all of the place settings and the napkin holder, but I made it work the best I could. I called the boys to dinner, serving them each before serving myself. I refilled drinks as they became low, and I only spoke when spoken to.
It was a routine I hated knowing.
After dinner, though, I could sense Jacob's anger flaring again, and I knew that my efforts had been in vain. I suddenly felt sick.
"Hey, dad," he said to Billy as I finished washing the dishes and storing the leftovers. "Isn't there a bonfire tonight?"
"Oh, yeah, that's right," Billy replied, smiling at the thought. "I think I just might call Harry, see if he'd give me a lift. I'll give you two some time, I know Bella has to leave soon." He smiled at us, thinking he was giving us just what we wanted. I smiled at him, hoping it seemed genuine.
"I already called him, he should be here any minute. I figured you'd want to go," Jacob told his father. As if on cue, a car horn honked. Jacob began helping his father out of the house. Before shutting the front door, he glared at me, making it clear I was to stay just where I was.
It didn't take but a minute for him to return.
He walked in and closed the front door, his back to me. Slowly, deliberately, he slid the dead bolt into place. Then he turned to face me.
He didn't attempt to hide his anger, now that we were alone. It took one glance to know I was in for hell. I stood up from where I'd been sitting, bracing myself.
"So, Bella," he sneered, sauntering towards me. He caressed my face gently with the tips of his fingers. The gesture seemed mocking to me. "Where were you today?"
"I went home," I whispered, knowing that this was where the act stopped. He gripped my chin forcefully in his hand, forcing me to stare directly at him.
"I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth, Bella," he growled at me. His eyes were nearly aglow with fury. "Where. Were. You."
I gave up then. "I was in the forest. I was scared. I wanted a few moments to myself."
His hand released my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut. His palm made connection with my cheek. The noise echoed in the small room.
"That was stupid of you, Isabella," he whispered into my ear. "I thought I'd taught you better than to run from me." He stood behind me now. With a quick motion, he grabbed my wrist and held it behind my back. My muscles screamed in agony.
"I'm so sorry," I choked out. "I was very stupid. I'm so sorry."
My wrist was pulled again. I couldn't help the gasp of pain that fell from my lips. I knew he would be smiling about now.
"You're right. You were very stupid. You are very stupid. And you should be sorry. You have a lot to make up for." He let go of my wrist and shoved me to the floor. His foot landed on the center of my back, holding me in place. Tears began to pool in my eyes. Fear, at this point, was taking over my every thought. I ached to run, to scream, to go find help, but I knew it was futile.
His foot lifted from my back, and for a moment I began to feel hope again. Maybe he had mercy, decided to stop. But instead, it landed on my right ankle. I could feel it twist in an unnatural position. I cried out in pain, wanting to do anything to make the pain in my ankle stop. But rather than the pain diminish, pressure increased. The tears I'd been holding back spilled out onto my cheeks. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't cry out, and I tasted blood.
Finally he released my ankle. He shoved it under my rib cage, flipping my over so I was facing him. Jacob loomed over me, a force not to be reckoned with. His hulking form was all I could see. Anger exuded from him; it was almost tangible in the air. I pulled in a deep breath.
His foot landed now on the top of my chest. It rest lightly for a moment, as if he was toying with the idea. Then he put it on my throat. He pressed down lightly at first, then forcefully. I choked underneath the weight. "Please," I managed to whisper. "Please stop."
He laughed a menacing laugh, pressing down even more. "You never learn, do you, Bella." I began to paw at his ankle, trying to move it. He laughed again. Dark spots began to cover my vision and I knew he was aware that I would soon be unconscious if he continued.
Thankfully, my throat was finally freed. I gulped air as though I'd never be able to have enough. My heart pounded in my chest.
Jacob rested his foot on my ankle again, making sure he had my attention when he pressed down on it again. I whimpered, biting my tongue again. How would I explain this one to Dr. Gerandy?
He released the pressure once again, kicking me once. The mocking smile he once wore was gone, replaced with one of displeasure. A great deal of the anger was now missing from his features, thankfully.
"Go," he commanded me, kicking my injured ankle once more before sauntering off to his bedroom.
Despite my ankle, I went as fast as possible to the kitchen, snagging my purse off the table before limping out the door.
I floored the truck as fast as it would go until I reached the La Push boundary line. I pushed forward another couple minutes before parking the truck on the side of the road.
I couldn't hold back the tears that began to flow now, and my ankle couldn't handle any more. It needed checked, and it needed checked soon.
Before I could question myself, I dialed the one person that I knew I could trust to help me.
He answered after three rings.
"Hello, this is Edward Cullen."
Okay, chapter two. What do you think?
Also, this is random, but I wanted this to be crystal clear (I got a review on the first run of the story on my old account that asked this question, and I just don't want any of you to worry): I am making 100% of this up, minus character names. None of this is my life. I'm not, nor have I ever been, abused. I promise you that. This is what I imagine it may be like.
Okay. There we go. So, thoughts? Questions? I'd be more than happy to answer.
-Erin