A/N: Wow, I'm so pleased about the response to this! Don't expect updates so often - I just happened to have more of this written. ACAP is still my main project right now. Thanks so much for the reviews, duckies!
All standard disclaimers apply.
Wisp
Edward dug his hands deep into his tawny hair, pulling until it hurt. The pain was helpful—distracting. He took another breath, trying to count slowly in his head. Inhale to five, exhale to five. Yeah, not working. Calming techniques were all well and good, but not when faced with a dead girl on your property. He bent, scrabbling in the darkness for his dropped keys, stumbling after a moment into the welcome glare of his floodlight.
Of course, standing in the light only made the dark, angular shadow of the truck look that much more sinister. He tugged at his hair again, not caring at the moment that his hands were filthy from digging through wet gravel for his keys.
James was a dead man. How could he hand over his truck, just like that, with a dead body in the bed? And oh, god, what would have happened if Edward hadn't decided to poke around? What if Rosalie had discovered her? Rose, a survivor of domestic abuse, was very touchy about the issue of violence, particularly toward women, and Emmett was extremely protective of his live-in girlfriend. If Rose had found the girl, James wouldn't be long for this earth.
The sound of swift footsteps cut into Edward's thoughts, and he turned his head sharply toward the trail that led from the big house to the cabin. Carlisle was easy to see once he got closer, dressed in pale khaki and a white scarf. He had a long Maglite flashlight with him, and he jogged the last few yards to the gravel clearing in front of the cabin.
"Edward—son," he said, panting a little from his swift trip. "What's wrong?"
Edward pointed to the truck, the back an open, gaping black maw.
Carlisle approached the vehicle with caution, raising his flashlight to shine into the depths. "Oh, god!" he said as the light fell on the girl. "Edward, come here and hold the flashlight—quick!"
Edward stumbled to obey. Part of him wondered what the hurry was—she was dead, after all. Nothing could help her now. He winced slightly as he watched Carlisle clamber into the back of the vehicle, seemingly without a care for his clothes and the cause of the rancid smell. He reached the girl and touched her shoulder softly.
The beam of light bounced and danced around the enclosed space as Edward's hands shook on the flashlight. He grit his teeth, doing his best to hold steady as Carlisle gently took the girl's grimy, bare shoulder in his hand and slowly turned her onto her back. His hands sought the soft divot on the side of her throat where her pulse would throb, and he held there for a long moment. Edward scarcely dared to breathe until the tense set of his father's shoulders relaxed visibly in the quaking light.
"She's alive," Carlisle said, breathing deeply.
And somehow, that seemed to make the situation even worse. Edward swore under his breath. The shock of seeing a dead body—what he thought was a dead body—leeched away, replaced by pure anger. Fury that James—that anyone—could keep someone captive like this, could do something so horrible, twisted his insides. He put the flashlight down on the lowered tailgate of the truck and reached forward with steadier hands.
"Give her here."
Carlisle helped maneuver the girl toward Edward's waiting arms, and carefully the two of them eased her out of the confined space in which she'd been held prisoner—for how long, it was impossible to know. Once she was close enough Edward gathered her into his arms, pulling her free and holding her body against his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and it was obvious that she was unconscious.
"She's so little," he murmured, gazing at the limp form huddled in his arms. Her skin was cold and pale—she looked dead even now. Carefully he stepped toward the bright, unforgiving floodlight in front of his house.
She was small, though the shape of her body showed that she was no child. Her bones protruded in places they should not—knobby knees and wrists, jutting angles of hipbone and ribs. Even her face was gaunt, her cheeks sunken and hollow. Her skin felt filthy against his hands, greasy and grimy, and her long dark hair was a matted mess.
"Let's get her inside," Carlisle urged. "I'll run back to the house and get my bag."
"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?" Even as he said it, Edward knew he didn't particularly want to do so. The girl was like ice in his arms, and the thought of placing her in a cold, sterile hospital environment did not sit right with him, no matter how much he trusted his father and the medical establishment.
"Maybe," Carlisle said, "but not right now. It's important to get her warm, see if she regains consciousness. After that, we'll see."
That was perfectly acceptable to Edward's mind, and he smiled a little as he shifted his arms around the too-light girl he held. "Can I put her in a bath?" he asked.
"Yes," Carlisle affirmed, "if you take care to watch her head and make sure she doesn't go under."
That seemed reasonable to Edward. He just had one final question. "What about a rape kit? You always said—"
"I know," Carlisle said, and he put a gentle hand on the girl's bruised knee. "But it's more important right now to get her warm. Let's face it, son—she's naked and clearly being held against her will. I don't think there's any question of what's been happening to her."
Edward hated to admit it, but Carlisle was right. He tightened his arms around the cold body, ignoring the rank smell of her. It wasn't her fault. She could have been trapped in there for days—weeks—even longer. It was impossible to guess until she woke up and was able to tell them.
Carlisle squeezed the girl's knee gently before picking up his flashlight and heading back into the woods. Edward hurried into his house, laying the girl's still body carefully on the brown couch before he entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water full force.
Esme had refurbished this cabin only a year or so ago, and the deep whirlpool tub she'd insisted on hadn't seen much use. Edward preferred showers by far, and he did not bring girls home with him when he was at the cabin working. The tub was sparkling clean, though as he pulled out soap, shampoo, and washcloths, Edward knew it wasn't going to stay that way for long. The girl was filthy, and he aimed to do something about that as long as she was in the bath.
Once the water had warmed and deepened slightly, steam swirling in misty little curls in the damp air, Edward went to get the unconscious girl.
Except, she wasn't where he'd left her.
The couch was conspicuously empty, and Edward frowned as he stared at it in consternation. Where had she gone? She'd been unconscious just a few minutes ago when he set her down.
The door to the house was still open, but Edward doubted she could have gotten very far. Not in the shape she was in. He settled instead on searching the house. He ducked into the kitchen, glancing around the counter and under the table, before heading back into the living room.
He found her moments later, curled up in a tiny, shaking ball, wedged firmly between the back of the couch and the wall. Her head was buried in her knees, her arms clutching tightly at her legs as she shuddered, and he doubted the reason was cold. Slowly, Edward took a deep breath. She'd woken up in a strange place—of course she was terrified. After all she'd been through, things he couldn't even imagine, who wouldn't be?
"Hey," he said softly, trying to tamp down the anger that boiled over again at the thought of James and what unknown horrors he'd subjected this girl to. "Hey, can you hear me?"
She did not raise her head, but her trembling increased. It was obvious she'd heard him, and equally obvious that she wasn't planning on coming out anytime soon.
"I didn't think it was possible for even a kid to wedge themselves back there," he said, feeling a little lost as he tried to ease her fears. "You're so small. Just a little wisp of a girl."
At least it was clear that she was, in fact, alive. Edward tried to look on the bright side. When he first saw her, he'd assumed she was dead. Now embarrassed by his shock and having jumped to conclusions, he felt a deep need to help her. She wouldn't know the difference—she hadn't even been conscious when he first laid eyes on her. But that made no difference to Edward.
"Honey," he tried, kneeling down next to the space between the couch and the wall, trying to look and sound as non-threatening as possible. "Honey, calm down. It's okay. You're safe now. My name is Edward, and I'm going to take care of you."
She didn't respond, so Edward carefully reached out a hand and touched her toes lightly, where they protruded from the tight ball of the rest of her.
With a soft, unhappy squeal, she pulled her feet tighter in toward her body. Edward sighed and backed away for the moment. The bathtub must be about to spill over by this point. He hastened to shut off the water, making sure to keep the bathroom door closed to hold in the heat.
What could he do to lure her out from behind the couch? Edward thought about it, worrying the flesh of his lower lip between his teeth. He didn't want to act forcefully—move the couch, pick her up, and make her obey. The poor thing was probably scared to death already, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her more. Plus, he wanted her to be able to trust him. If he acted like James probably had, there was no way that would ever happen.
As he thought, Edward paced the short hall that led from the stairway to the kitchen and back again. On his third pass, his eyes alighted on a bunch of yellow bananas on the kitchen counter.
The tiny girl was emaciated—practically skin and bone. Maybe food could be used to gain her trust? He broke a banana off the bunch and started to peel it. The smell was sweet and fresh, just the thing, he hoped, to tempt her.
Taking the fruit with him, Edward knelt again near the back of the couch. "Hey," he said softly. "Are you hungry?"
She did not look up—did not acknowledge that she understood his words at all. Edward broke off a piece of the soft food in his hand and reached it toward her, wafting the sweet smell near her huddled knees where her face hid.
That did it.
Slowly her head moved, the tangled mess of dark hair shifting as she raised her gaze to see what was being offered. Huge brown eyes, wet with tears, blinked at him.
"Hi," Edward said, trying to reach his hand just a little further even though his arm was already fully extended. "My name is Edward, and I won't hurt you. Go on—take it."
His heartbeat thudded loud in his chest, one beat, then another. Those huge eyes flicked hesitantly between his eyes and his hand, clearly both suspicious of the offer and yearning for it.
"It's okay," he soothed, and his heart almost broke as he saw the unbridled desire in her eyes, how much she wanted the little piece of food and yet how terrified she was of taking it. "Nothing bad will happen to you here," he said, willing her to believe him.
She whimpered softly, only the second sound he'd heard her make, and stared imploringly at the fruit in Edward's hand.
"Shh," he crooned, his voice falling into a strange, soft register he'd never heard from himself before. "Don't be afraid."
Slowly, ever so slowly, her hand twitched. She did not let go of her tucked legs, but her hand definitely moved. Edward shifted his body carefully, moving his hand just that little bit further until he could brush the soft fruit against her pinky finger.
As if the touch of the food broke her willpower, the girl moved swiftly, like a little monkey. She snatched the small piece of banana with her hand, cramming it whole into her little mouth.
"Like that, huh?" Edward smiled in spite of the heartbreaking situation. She chewed desperately, cheeks bulged with the soft fruit. "Do you want some more?"
She swallowed quickly, and Edward took a step backward, breaking off another piece of banana and holding it toward her in his fingers. She would have to move toward him to reach it, but at least she was looking at him this time.
She eyed the soft white morsel held out toward her, mouth still working as if rolling the aftertaste of the first bite around, savoring it. Edward held still, his knees aching as he knelt next to the couch, watching her carefully. Her hands were just as filthy as the rest of her and he didn't really like handing her food to put in her mouth. But the relative dirtiness of her hands was probably the least of her problems, he figured, and he tried not to grimace as she put her finger in her mouth, licking the banana residue.
It felt like they were frozen in time, like every ragged breath exhaled from his lungs would rip the moment in two, but finally—finally—she shifted forward on her knees, holding out her shaking hand for the offered food.
"Good girl," Edward said softly, handing the bite to her. It disappeared quickly into her mouth as he expected, but to his surprise her eyes flicked up to his when he uttered those words, almost as if in recognition.
"Do you understand me?" he asked softly, watching as she chewed the soft food. "Good girl, you're so brave."
Again, a faint flicker that almost seemed to be understanding. Edward felt uncomfortable talking down to her, but she had yet to show signs of any sort of real comprehension when he spoke. He bit back a sigh and shuffled backward again, holding out another piece of banana. With this move, she would have to creep out from behind the couch and into the room. He didn't know if she would, but he hoped so.
"You can do it," he urged. "Good girl, I know you can."
She bit her chapped lower lip, gnawing worriedly as she stared at the fruit in Edward's hand.
"Shh, don't do that," he said, and without really thinking about it he reached forward to tug her lip free of her teeth.
The girl whimpered again, a breathy, frightened sound, and bit down harder. A bright seam of blood sprouted against her teeth, and Edward winced. That was what he'd hoped to avoid.
"No, honey," he said, frustration at his inability to help her boiling over. "Don't hurt yourself. Please."
She dodged away from his seeking hand, cringing back into her huddled ball, and Edward swore under his breath. It seemed that this was going to take much longer than he'd initially thought. Maybe he should just wait for Carlisle?
But the girl was cold, her skin pale and blue-tinged as she shivered behind the couch, and Edward desperately wanted to calm her, soothe her, make her feel better. He didn't seem able to help her mental pain since she wasn't paying attention to his words, but if she just let him take her to a hot bath, he felt sure they could ease some of her physical pain.
"What can I do, honey?" he asked, tugging at his hair in frustration. "I just want to help."
She didn't answer, nor did he expect her to.
With a sigh, Edward took the rest of the banana and placed it gently by her huddled feet. "There," he said. Luring her out from behind the couch didn't seem to be working anyway, and he couldn't bear to deny her the food just because she was afraid. "It's yours. You can eat it. It's okay."
Her hands grabbed the half-peeled banana and pulled it tight against her chest. Those huge dark eyes flicked up to him again, her pale lips smeared with red where she'd bitten herself too hard. She flicked her eyes back and forth from his eyes to the fruit in her hand. Edward hardly dared to breathe, standing still as she looked at him. How was he supposed to look trustworthy? Was there even such a thing?
"I won't hurt you," he said again, trying to soothe the jagged fear he saw in those soft, dark eyes. "You sweet little wisp of a girl—how could I possibly? How could anyone?"
But someone had, and badly. That was more than obvious, and Edward quivered with anger at the thought of it. What horrible things must she have endured, to make her act so afraid?
She cradled the banana close to her chest, not eating it, and Edward wondered whether she was trying to save it or just was too afraid to take her eyes off him. Slowly he let his eyes travel across her huddled form, gaunt and trembling. She was a mess of bruises, but the delicate features of her gentle face were disturbingly lovely, even so.
"You don't ever have to be afraid of me," he said softly, more to hear his own voice than anything else. "I just want to help you. Wouldn't you like a bath?"
At the word bath, her eyes flicked up and she cocked her head to the side in a listening posture, almost like a confused puppy. It was the biggest reaction she'd shown yet to anything he'd said, and Edward felt a surge of hope rise up tight in his chest. "Bath," he said again, slow and clear. "Bath, little wisp. Would you like one?"
She did not answer with words, but after a moment Edward saw her shift slightly on the floor. She tucked her banana under her chin and lifted trembling arms toward Edward.
It was the action of a small child, but the meaning was abundantly clear. Edward stood, making each motion as slow and careful as possible, and reached toward her. She did not pull away, though he heard her breath catch in her throat when his fingers traced lightly along her bare arms.
"I won't hurt you," he repeated, and he carefully shifted his grip and lifted her into his arms.
She was still cold, and her breaths were short and ragged as his arms closed around her.
"Poor baby," he crooned, shifting his weight on his feet, rocking her slightly as he held her. "You're all right now. You're fine. Beautiful little wisp."
She did not respond, gripping his shirt tightly with one fist and her banana with the other. Her eyes were soft and wide, taking in the rustic interior of the cabin in wordless wonder.
"It's not much," Edward said, smiling at the awe in her eyes, "but it's home. I don't know how long you'll be here, but I hope you'll be comfortable."
Carefully he opened the bathroom door with the hand behind her back, slipping into the warmth of the room. She gasped, the sound soft and sweet, at the retro black and white checkered tile floor, the huge bathtub, separate shower stall, and everything else. She looked particularly interested in the oval mirror over the sink, which was clouded with steam from the heat of the room.
"It's probably best that you can't see yourself right now," Edward said gently, hugging her close as her skin rippled in the warm, damp air. "I'll let you look after we get you cleaned up. Is that okay?"
She looked at him blankly, as if he'd asked a question in a foreign language. Edward sighed inwardly. Right. Too many words, not enough action.
"Bath," he said again, reminding her of their task, before stepping over to the tub. He sat on the wide edge, dangling her feet over the hot water. "It will feel good, I promise."
She was worrying her lower lip again, but Edward didn't dare try to stop her this time. He shifted her weight on his lap so her toes dipped ever so slightly in the water. She gasped, turning her head to stare at him wide-eyed.
"What?" he asked as she dipped her foot further into the water. "Did you expect it to be cold?"
Probably his mind answered, and Edward grimaced inwardly. He held still, supporting her carefully as she slipped her feet into the water. She kicked a little, sloshing the water softly as if she didn't quite believe it was real. Her eyes flicked up to Edward's again, big and wondering, as if asking permission.
"Yes," he confirmed, trying to smile reassuringly at her. "It's for you, honey. Go on."
She did, letting Edward support and balance her as she slid into the water. A deep, shuddering sigh was torn from her lungs as he lay her back against the side of the tub and she sank chin-deep in the hot water. One hand still grasped her banana—slightly smashed and disfigured by now—and she looked up at Edward shyly, holding it toward him as if in entreaty.
"Yes," he said, not really sure how much she understood, and he tried to smile again. He pushed the fruit back toward her in a gesture he hoped was universal. "It's yours. I won't take it away from you."
She sat up straighter, holding the fruit in both hands as she quickly wrestled the peel away from the soft insides.
"Easy," Edward said, smiling gently at her fixed determination to get to the food. "Don't make yourself sick."
She ignored him, inhaling a huge mouthful of banana, her cheeks puffing around the big bite as she struggled to chew. Edward chuckled softly, and that was how Carlisle found them about thirty seconds later.
"What have we here?" he asked, hesitating in the doorway.
The girl froze, her jaw stilling and her eyes growing wide as she jerked her head toward the new voice. A short whimper escaped her mouth and she shuddered in the water, scrambling away from the sight of Carlisle in the doorway.
"Easy, little wisp," Edward said, holding his hands out toward her in a gesture he hoped was soothing. "Carlisle is my father. He won't hurt you."
But she did not calm down, hugging herself against the far end of the tub, curling up again into a defensive ball. The last of her banana fell from her hand into the water with a splash, and she did not even attempt to retrieve it. A soft, high-pitched keening noise tore from her throat, and she buried her head against her knees again.
"Whoa there," Carlisle said, stepping cautiously into the room. He closed the door behind him so the steam wouldn't escape, then sat down quickly against the door. "Frightened little thing."
"Poor girl." Edward nearly growled. "No human being should be treated like she's been. I don't even know what happened and I know that much."
"I didn't expect her to be awake," Carlisle said, watching her from his spot against the wall.
"I didn't either," Edward said. "I went to fill the bathtub, and when I got back to her she'd wedged herself behind the couch and wouldn't come out." He took a deep breath and leaned toward the girl, fishing the ruined bit of banana and peel out of the water. She watched him suspiciously from under her arm, but did not attempt to stop him. "I tried to lure her out with food."
"Has she said anything?"
Edward shook his head regretfully. "I'm not even sure she understands most words. She seemed to recognize bath—that's how I got her in here. But that's it."
"Miss?" Carlisle said, raising his voice slightly. "Miss, my name is Carlisle Cullen. I'm a doctor. Can you hear me?"
She trembled in the water, but did not otherwise respond. Edward could almost see the frightened thrum of her pulse in her throat, the quick, terrified rush of blood beneath thin, tender skin. His heart went out to her, but he didn't know how to help her.
"Little wisp," he said softly, and he touched her shoulder gently. "Oh, honey, you're okay. You're safe now."
In the ensuing silence, the sound of Carlisle opening his bag and rifling through the contents was loud.
"Carlisle, we can't take her to a busy hospital," Edward said quietly, stroking his hand with the lightest of touches over her damp shoulder. "She'll die of fright."
"You can't actually die of fright," Carlisle said mildly, though he did not otherwise refute Edward's statement.
"Maybe I couldn't," Edward said, "but don't you dare tell me she can't."
"I want to push a little bit." Carlisle slipped his stethoscope around his neck and stuck a pen light in his breast pocket. "See what she will and won't allow."
"Carlisle, don't scare her any more," Edward pleaded, and his father figure flashed him a sympathetic smile.
"I'm afraid that's inevitable, son," he said quietly. "She's terrified of everything right now."
The girl huddled in the far corner of the bath as Carlisle crept closer. He sat on the edge of the tub, much like Edward was, and reached out a hand toward her.
She squealed, a sound that was definitely not happy, and tried to jerk away from the gentle touch. There was nowhere for her to go, as she was trapped in the corner of both the room and the tub, and she cried out piteously.
"Shh, little wisp," Edward tried to soothe as Carlisle pulled his hand back. "Carlisle, stop! This isn't right."
Carlisle sighed. "You touched her," he said, glancing at his son. "I wonder what the difference is?"
"James has light hair, like you," Edward said slowly, giving the only answer he could come up with. "Maybe she—"
"Edward, look."
He turned toward the girl, who had rolled herself into an even tighter ball at the sound of James' name. She clutched her arms tightly around her legs even as a telltale yellow stain seeped into the water below her.
"She can't help it," Carlisle sighed, moving away from the tub again. "If she's terrified to the point of incontinence, any test I do right now will be pointless anyway. Best to get her clean, and I'll see if I can't slip her something to help her sleep. Then I can give her a quick examination without causing undue stress."
"I don't like the thought of doing something without her permission," Edward said slowly.
"I don't, either, but you have to weigh the costs against the benefits," Carlisle said with a sigh. "We need to know if there's something medically wrong with her—something that needs treatment either here or at the hospital."
"I know," Edward said softly, looking toward the terrified girl huddled in the corner of the big tub. "I just…" He shook his head. "Okay. But we'll need to let the water out and—"
"Leave it," Carlisle suggested. "She's so dehydrated she couldn't have passed much, and I can guarantee the water will be filthy anyway once she starts to scrub. You can fill up the tub a second time or put her under the shower for a final rinse after she's clean."
"Me?" Edward said warily, glancing at his uncle.
"Well, she's terrified of me," Carlisle said simply.
"What about Esme?"
"Asleep. I didn't want to wake her if I didn't have to. Let her have a full night's sleep before she has to face this nightmare."
Edward tugged on his hair again. "It's practically morning," he said, though he wasn't arguing. Truthfully, he was happy to do whatever needed to be done to help this girl. And, realistically, he'd already seen and touched her naked body. Whatever else she might be, she didn't seem upset about that.
"I'll rummage in the kitchen and see what I can find to crush a pill into," Carlisle said, rising slowly to his feet. "A banana was a good idea—bland starches aren't a nutritional ideal, but they'll be easy on her stomach if she hasn't had food for a while."
"If she hasn't?" Edward asked, raising one eyebrow.
Carlisle acknowledged the jab with a shrug. "We can't know anything yet, son. Let's try to keep the assumptions to a minimum until she's able to tell us what really happened to her."
He left the bathroom quickly, and Edward smiled softly as the terrified girl peeked slowly out from her hiding place at the noise of the door.
"It's just you and me again," he soothed her. "Everything is okay. You don't have to see J—" He stopped himself before saying the name, remembering what it had done to her before. "You don't have to see him ever again, little wisp. Never."
He dipped a white washcloth in the hot water, then lathered it up with soap. Thank goodness for bleach—otherwise his washcloths and towels might never be the same again. Smiling encouragingly, he reached out slowly and touched the girl's near arm.
"I won't hurt you," he reiterated. "Let's get you clean, huh? It will feel good; I promise."
She watched him with those big brown eyes, neither moving toward him nor shrinking away, and Edward ran the soapy washcloth along her arm.
"See?" he said. "Nothing scary about that, right? Do you think maybe I could have your hand?"
Edward extended his own hand, wiggling his fingers, and slowly, slowly, the girl unwound one of her arms and copied the gesture. He grinned, sliding his hand under hers for support, and began washing her gently, starting with the tips of her fingers. The cloth moved against her skin in soft circular motions, dipping to clean the grime trapped between her fingers, and all the while she watched him. There was still wariness in her eyes, but it was overlaid with a kind of astonished awe, as if she couldn't quite believe what was happening to her.
"Good girl," Edward soothed, remembering how she had reacted to the words before. A quiver that did not quite seem like a frightened tremble rippled through her delicate body, and he smiled. "I won't hurt you. This isn't scary." Whether she understood his words or not, he hoped the soft tone might soothe her at least a little.
Even her fingers were skinny, the nails short and jagged as if she bit them habitually. He rubbed her palm, turning her hand over to expose the soft white underside of her arm. Her skin was so pale that he could see the blue and purple lines of her veins clearly. "You're nearly translucent," he murmured, being careful as he washed a dark bruise near her elbow. She didn't utter a sound, and Edward traced his fingers across the tender inside of her wrist, tickling her gently. She shuddered, her eyes confused as she raised them to his.
"It's called a tickle," he told her uncertainly. "If you don't like it, I won't do it again."
But she made no motion or sound to tell him if she did, one way or another. Edward traced his fingers across the soft skin one last time, then continued washing up her arm. She had the softest pale downy hair on her forearms, light and wispy, in contrast to the dark mess of hair on her head.
"Hey, can we turn you a little bit?" Edward asked softly, and he coaxed her to shift her position in the tub. He wanted her to sit with her back to him, but she refused to go that far. Giving up, Edward settled for halfway, slowly swirling the soapy cloth over her shoulders, under the mass of dark hair. Adding more soapy lather when necessary and changing out dirty washcloths twice, Edward managed to scrub most of the girl's frail body. She did not want to turn her back on him but otherwise complied as he moved her, even kneeling in the water and sitting on the edge of the tub so he could reach submerged sections of flesh. Everywhere, he found traces of long-standing abuse—bruises of varying colors, old scars that had healed poorly due to insufficient care. She was curiously hairless except for her forearms and her head, and Edward frowned as he scrubbed at a particularly dirty spot on her calf—it felt like engine grease or something just as bad. At first he wondered if perhaps she was younger than originally assumed. Her legs, underarms, even the soft skin between her legs were smooth and hairless. But the shape of her narrow waist and sloping hipbones, in addition to the gentle swell of her small breasts, spoke of a girl who ought to have some body hair at least. Even small children had soft peach fuzz on their legs, but this girl had nothing—a sure sign that she either had some sort of medical condition or, more likely, it had been purposefully removed. There was no sign of stubble, so she likely wasn't shaved—she was far too dirty to have gone through hair removal in the past couple of days. But waxing, electrolysis, and laser removal were still reasonable assumptions.
He was a little nervous as he approached the apex of her thighs with the washcloth—she sat on the edge of the tub, propping herself up carefully with her hands. This was so inappropriate, but she did not seem any more uncomfortable than her normal state, and she did not try to stop him. Edward took a deep breath and let it out, looking up and finding her eyes.
"Little wisp," he said, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Is it okay if I clean between your legs? If you say no, I won't. But I really think you'll feel better if you're completely clean."
She cocked her head to the side again, as if questioning his words. There was no sign of comprehension on her face.
"I'm sorry," he murmured softly. "Whatever that monster did to you, little wisp, I'm sorry."
The girl said nothing, and Edward grit his teeth as he slipped the soft cloth between her legs, washing her as gently as he could.
She whimpered slightly, and Edward stilled his hand, searching her face for a clue to her feelings. A grimace passed over her delicate features, but she did not attempt to pull away.
"Does that hurt?" he asked, using his free hand to rub her knee gently. "Or do you just not like me touching there?"
But there was no answer, nor did he expect one. She looked at him with big, damp eyes, her swollen lower lip trembling slightly, and Edward couldn't bear that tortured look. He withdrew the cloth carefully, his eyes locked with hers the entire time.
"Oh, little wisp," he said quietly. "I wish I knew what to do for you."
An idea hatched in his head, and Edward dipped the cloth back in the water, lathering it up again with fresh soap. Then, very deliberately, he took her hand and placed the washcloth in it.
Her huge eyes grew even bigger and her skin paled slightly as she stared at him, staring in consternation at the cloth in her hand.
"Go on," Edward urged. "You know how to touch yourself so it won't hurt. You can do it."
She frowned in confusion, her eyes traveling back and forth between Edward and the cloth in her hand. Slowly she raised it and placed the washcloth on Edward's arm, rubbing gently.
Edward chuckled at the misunderstanding, moving her hand away from his arm with a gentle pat. "No, little wisp. Wash yourself. Go on." He touched her thigh, the skin shuddering under his hand. "Here. Can you do that?"
Slowly, each movement halting and hesitant as if she were afraid of being punished for it, she drew the cloth between her legs. Edward watched how carefully she touched her own body, and the wince that still stole over her features when the cloth made contact. Clearly she was hurt—maybe not in a medical sense, but at least in a practical one. She washed slowly, grimacing as her hand pushed further between her legs. Edward shushed her, afraid she was doing more than necessary in order to please him, and eased her back in the water to wash away the suds.
"You're such a brave girl," he praised, smiling at her. "So strong."
She did not respond, as he knew she wouldn't. She seemed to like his tone of voice when he praised her, though, so he continued to talk softly to her as he pulled the plug and let the water swirl out of the tub.
"I know," he said as she began to shiver in the damp, misty room. "I know, and you can have some fresh water in a minute. You were so dirty that the old water just wasn't helping anymore."
She said nothing, merely watched him with sad eyes as her water swirled away. Edward hated when she looked at him like that. There wasn't even any reproach or anger in her gaze, just deep, unwavering sadness.
"Please don't look at me that way," he said, though he knew by now that it probably wouldn't make a bit of difference. "I'll get you new water—nice, hot water—and then we can try to tackle your hair."
She turned her head to watch the last of the dirty water swirl down the drain, heaving a deep, long-suffering sigh. Edward touched her shoulder, trying to soothe her any way he could, and plugged the tub again. He turned on the water, and she put her finger in her mouth like a small child in surprised delight as the warmth spilled across her toes and slithered up her legs. She shivered happily, dropping her hands to plunge into the heat as the water level rose.
"I've never seen someone so enchanted with a bath before," Edward said, smiling softly. "Little wisp of a mermaid, that's what you are. I don't care how pruny your fingers get—you're still just about the most adorable thing I've ever seen."
His words took Edward by surprise. It was mindless chatter, more for his own benefit than hers, and he hadn't paid attention to what came out of his mouth until it was over and done with. Now he considered the words carefully as he swirled the water around with his hand, making sure it didn't get too hot for her tender skin. Adorable? Yes, actually, she was. She was a beautiful young woman, even emaciated and covered with the visible marks of terrible abuse. Not only that, but her childlike actions and the way her big brown eyes watched him kindled something inside him—a strange protectiveness he'd never felt before for anyone.
She did not seem particularly willing to lie back in the water, dousing her head, and Edward couldn't stand arguing the point with her when those big wet eyes looked at him so imploringly. Instead, he retrieved a plastic cup from the kitchen and used it to pour water carefully over her head.
"How's it going?" Carlisle asked as Edward pulled the vessel from the cupboard.
Edward shrugged. He didn't want to leave her alone, and he was feeling antsy, high on adrenaline and lack of sleep. "She has no body hair, Carlisle—did you notice?"
"I wasn't really looking." The older man stirred a pot bubbling on the stove—Edward peered inside and saw that he was boiling potatoes.
"Mashed potatoes?"
"Mm-hm." Carlisle covered a yawn. "Something bland—just some empty calories to soothe her stomach. Depending on how long she's been without food, she may not tolerate the reintroduction well. I'll have to get in touch with the hospital nutritionist and see what the best course of treatment will be."
There was more to be said, but Edward wanted to get back to the girl in the bathtub, just in case anything happened. She seemed willing and able to sit unassisted, but he'd never forgive himself if an injury occurred that he could have prevented.
But when he opened the door and slipped inside, she looked about as content as he'd ever seen her. She was sitting quietly in the tub, leaned back against the slanted back, and was examining her own clean fingers closely.
"Hi," Edward said, feeling a little out of place even though he was in his own home. Walking in on a girl in a bathtub wasn't exactly something he was used to doing. Especially a stranger. "You know I'm not one for barging in on girls, right?" he said uncertainly.
She had whipped her head around to stare at the door when it opened, but upon seeing Edward, she settled back into the tub slightly, her muscles relaxing from her previous tense posture.
"I know," he sighed. "I know. You're still not sure about me, though you like me better than Carlisle."
She did not respond.
"Come on, let's work on that hair of yours."
She did not resist as he dipped the cup in the bath water, trickling the warm liquid carefully over her hair. He cupped his free hand over her forehead, shielding her eyes in a reflexive gesture. The girl sat still, her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms clasped around them. It was a tense, uncomfortable posture, but she wasn't crying and she didn't seem to be trembling so much anymore either.
Her hair was a mess—a matted tangle of greasy brown strands that he didn't know what to do with. With a frown, he decided to just jump in. What harm could it do now? He squirted a giant handful of shampoo into his palm, then went to work on the briar patch of hair, scrubbing and kneading the shampoo into as much as he could. She did not complain, even when he knew he pulled, and when his hands climbed to her scalp, scratching carefully, she shuddered in a way that looked and felt an awful lot like pleasure.
"Do you like that?" he asked, easing his fingers along the sides of her head, above her little ears. "I know I do." No one had washed Edward's hair for him since he was old enough to do it himself, but one of his former girlfriends had been a massage therapist and he could well remember how it felt when she wove her hands through his hair, making him want to purr as her talented fingers massaged his scalp. Glad that perhaps he could give even a hint of that pleasure to the scared girl before him, he smiled and continued the gentle touch. "You're going to be okay now, you know," he said softly. "Whatever you want—whatever you need. We're here for you. I'm here for you."
She looked at him cautiously, so carefully that Edward almost swore she had understood him. "Oh, little one," he said softly. "What happened to you?"
But she did not answer, and Edward was forced to accept that for the moment, there would be no resolution to the current situation. He dipped the cup again and began rinsing the shampoo out of her hair.
A second lather and subsequent rinse did wonders for the cleanliness of her hair, but nothing for the tangles. Edward shook his head slightly as he let the water out for a second time, wrapping the snarled mess of hair in a soft white towel. She shivered and gazed at him, and the heartbroken expression on her face was too much. Edward rubbed her shoulder, then offered her another towel, giving her the option of climbing out of the tub on her own. "I know you love the warm water, little wisp," he said, trying to smile. "But you can't stay in there forever. Look at your fingers—they're already pruning."
She didn't attempt to leave the tub, but Edward didn't think it was a matter of stubbornness. Rather, she looked as if she was waiting for something. Curious, he stepped back a little more and shook the towel gently.
"Come on," he urged. "You can do it."
Whether she could or not became a moot point, though, since she wouldn't. Instead, she shivered as the water receded, her trembling becoming more pronounced and her skin breaking out in big goose bumps.
"Okay," Edward said finally, when he couldn't stand to watch her shiver anymore. "Okay. Come here." With that, he gathered her up in his arms, wrapping her shivering body in the white towel, settling her on the wide edge of the whirlpool tub. "We're going to have to figure out what's going on with you, little wisp."
She merely shivered, huddling into herself as he toweled her dry. Clean, her skin was marvelously soft, almost translucent in its purity. Edward dabbed softly at her swollen lower lip with a clean edge of washcloth, cleaning away dried blood.
"You're already hurt enough," he said softly. "Please try not to hurt yourself even more?" After wrapping her up again, Edward picked her up in his arms. She did not seem particularly inclined to walk on her own, and he wasn't entirely sure she could. Since she wasn't recoiling from his physical touch anymore, Edward was more than happy to hold her close to his chest. She still shivered, and Edward planned to turn up the heat in his cabin once he bundled her into some clothes.
"Let's get you warm," he suggested, carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom.
A/N: I mentioned in the first chapter that there are a number of stories here about Bella being kept as a pet by evil vampires, and then rescued by the Cullens. Mine is a little different because this is an all human story, but if you're interested, here's a list of the others in the genre that I know of.
Finding Bella by Wishingforlove81: As far as I know, this is the first one written. It is not finished and I suspect has been abandoned, but I still consider it the best.
Survival of the Soul by Lady Saffir: Also not complete.
Saving You by Cullensgirl90: Also not complete (sensing a pattern here?)
Again, anything I mention here may or may not be well-written or ever finished. There might be violence, rape, and other uncomfortable elements. I'm just stating other stories that I know of with similar plotlines. Thanks for the interest in this little plot bunny of mine!