Welcome to PAD's battered women's shelter.

Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Department of Health and Human Services.

I just want some of her funding to keep it open.

Realize

It wasn't always like this. The three of us, Edward, Jake and I, were friends once, but if I could go back in time and change my path, I would definitely have chosen Edward. I always think I had, but I guess it just wasn't in my tea leaves to be that way.

I remember the day that was the turning point. It was when we were in the sixth grade. Fat, snowy flakes fell from the sky signifying the beginning of the Christmas season. The class had an equal number of students that year: twelve boys and twelve girls. We each had to bring an anonymous gift for a classmate. Boys chose girls; girls chose boys. We drew names. I picked Edward',s and as luck would have it, he picked mine. Although I didn't know it at that time, I found out that Edward was buying jewelry because I was in Hale's Department Store and overheard Esme, Edward's mother, tell Mary Brandon of Brandon Jewelers that Edward had money saved from his allowance and wanted to buy a locket for a girl he really liked whose name he had picked for the class' secret Santa exchange. At the time, I was quite envious of who that girl might be until I found out that she was me.

I had liked Edward as well and was secretly thrilled that I had chosen his name, too. I ended up buying him an Old Spice cologne gift set. I knew there were trendier brands for boys back then, but they didn't fit Edward. He was somewhat traditional: courteous, well-mannered, classic, a gentleman. I knew he would get what I was trying to convey. It's like he was born in the wrong decade or maybe even the wrong century, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with that; it was refreshing to have at least one boy in class who could act appropriately.

I'll never forget how his eyes lit up when he saw what I had given him-being that it was kind of a grown-up gift to be buying an eleven-year-old. Even though his ears tipped red and his cheeks turned pink when he opened it, his shy, winding smile told me that he really loved getting it. When he panned the room to assess who was the giver, his gaze locked onto mine, knowing it was me. I smiled at him and bashfully lowered my head, not able to continue my gaze with his understanding in place. When it became my turn, even though I knew what gift he was giving and that it was from him, I was in no way prepared to receive the present he gave. He completely stunned me. The locket was so beautiful; it was 14 karat and on a real gold chain, as well. It even had a diamond set into the center of its cover–a diamond that was actually larger than the one I had in my engagement ring. I didn't even bother looking at the other boys. I gazed directly at him with my mouth agape. My expression tried to convey that he shouldn't have but was so thankful he did. It was exquisite then and, to this day, was the best gift I had ever received. My eyes said thank you while his said the same.

That night, we had a winter school dance. The gym had been transformed into a wonderland: lights twinkling, icicles dangling, crystals hanging. I had so hoped that Edward would have asked me for a "slow-one", but he never found the bravery; back then. He was so timid. What he could never seem to express then in words, he made up for in kind gestures and actions like when he gave me the pendant.

I was getting up my own courage to ask him to dance. He looked so handsome, dressed in a tweed sport coat with leather patches at the elbows sewn onto the sleeves. As I walked by him, I could faintly detect the cologne I had gifted. It was sweet and spicy and nearly the same scent I smelled on him today.

As I edged toward Edward, seemingly out of nowhere, Jake grabbed me by the arm and pulled me onto the floor, shuffling me all the way to the back to the corner of the room. I resisted at first, but he held me tightly as we swayed back and forth. Hormones trumped my common sense, and I ended up putting my head on his shoulder; at the time, it felt kind of nice. At the end of the dance, I looked up just in time to meet Edward's glistening eyes and crushed expression as he was grabbing his winter jacket and heading through the doors for home. He looked so beaten and broken. It's ironic; I feel that way now, every day.

After that, things just weren't the same. Jake staked a claim on me, and Edward just didn't have the confidence to compete with him.

Over the years, Edward has gone from reserved and shy to friendly and accommodating. College gave him a lot of confidence, that and the fact that he had to take over the store when his grandfather had passed away.

Edward had just received his degree in business management and was about to take a job in Portland, Oregon, at a large firm when Mr. Masen died unexpectedly of a heart attack. Elizabeth, Edward's grandmother, discussed selling the business, but Edward didn't have the heart to let it change hands only to possibly be bought up by some uncaring individual from a foreign country who only had designs on exploiting it with no respect for its small town appeal or responsibility to the Forks, Washington, community.

Mr. Masen founded the store on his own sound business principles. Sometimes he took things in trade for merchandise or services. Other times he just let people pay what they could. There were times he even gave materials free-of-charge just because it was in his heart to do so.

Edward is very much like his grandfather in that regard – he is a decent soul – and well respected as a result of it. He's been the owner now for two years. Esme could have assumed the role on paper, but she and Elizabeth figured that if Edward was that determined to completely alter his plans and devote everything he had towards maintaining the integrity of the store, he should have it all.

At first, it ran him ragged. He would often put in eighteen-hour days learning everything he could about the business-like knowing his suppliers first hand. He also pored over the books and revamped the entire accounting system by computerizing it. This process also got rid of peoples' indebtedness of which many were thankful. For a while there, he had a steady stream of home-baked pies, seedling flats, and bucketed bait showing up anonymously on his doorstep in repayment of his kindness.

Things eventually quieted down. Now, Edward only puts in ten-to-fifteen hour shifts depending upon the season. He also coaches and sponsors youth baseball and high school basketball. I've even seen him go out on dates occasionally. A pang of regret mixed in with some envy and a bit of jealousy always rears itself when I see female company on Edward's arm. I guess I wish it were me instead, but I have to live with it; I made my choice. I pray that, someday though, I'll be granted a second chance at happiness.

I'm halfway into town to do some grocery shopping, but I realize that I've forgotten weather seal for where the glass slips into the door frame. I decide to turn my old red Chevy back to Masen's to get some instead of waiting for the next time I come into town . When I get back to the store, I see Edward's grandmother, Elizabeth, Betsy for short, at the register and hear Edward in back with another customer.

"Good morning, Betsy."

"Good morning, Bella dear. How are you today?"

"I'm good. I lie. I was already here a few minutes ago but forgot to get weather seal for our storm door that got broken. Do you think I can get about nine feet of it?

"Sure, dear."

Betsy takes out her trusty snips, goes to the spool, measures the stripping, and cuts it."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, dear, don't worry about it. The supplier we buy from always puts a little extra on the rolls. Besides, Edward should have already given you some this morning with your glass."

"He was just opening up when I got here; I'm sure he was just clearing his head for business, and it just slipped his mind."

"Yes, he told me he was running a bit late. He's actually been doing that quite a lot lately. He said he didn't even have time to make himself lunch today. I guess I'll have to share some of mine with him although I know he won't be all that happy with liverwurst. I'm sure he'd be more pleased with tuna or regular cold cuts.

"Are you sure I don't owe you anything?"

"Yes, I'm sure, dear."

"Well, thank you then and have a pleasant day."

"You have a nice day too, dear."

As I make my way out for a second time, I've already decided how I can repay Edward and head off to the grocery store.

I pull into McCarty's, turn off my noisy engine, and roll down the windows for Seth. I grab a cart and start down the aisles. I can see Edward's sister, Alice, and try to steer clear of her. She invariably is a bit intuitive; it's almost as if she sees things happen, firsthand. Edward's always been supportive of me and understands that I need to do things on my own terms and in my own time. He doesn't judge, and for that I'm grateful.

It's not like I haven't left Jake before. The longest time we were separated was when he punched me in the stomach then pushed me down the stairs, which ended up in me breaking my pelvis…

I remember the pain-blindingly searing. I passed out because of it. When I came to, the basement floor was so cold and so damp; it hurt to shiver. I couldn't push with my legs. I clawed my way up, stair by stair, breathing in firewood dirt and shed dog hair. My nails became shredded while my hands gathered splinters. Seth howled and cried. He trotted and paced at the top of the steps favoring one foot then the other in a dance of impatience. When I finally reached the top, I asked him if he wanted a snack and told him to get my purse. He brought me my patchwork bag with the strap nestled in his mouth. I gave him a biscuit and took out my phone to make the emergency call. Jake had already disappeared – out with the boys. He didn't come to the hospital until he recovered from his hangover in the evening of the next day.

At the time, I also miscarried a fetus I didn't even know I was pregnant with. I hope I don't have to answer to anybody one day, but I was actually relieved I had lost that baby back then. There is no way I would ever want to bring a child into this world, then or now, with him as the father.

Jake inquires every now and then about why I haven't gotten knocked-up yet; these are his words of course, not mine. This usually sparks an assaultive tirade from him, declaring that I'm a defective, worthless piece of ass ending in either him slapping me around or him breaking something and then going out. This is just one of many reasons Jake has - in his warped head - to justify his abuse of me.

I hate that I have to be sneaky about getting birth control pills. When I was in the hospital, recovering from that fall, I told the OB/GYN doctor that I was not ready to be a mother yet. She discussed options with me regarding contraception. Fortunately, Jake was at work and wasn't privy to our conversation. The doctor said that Jake would have no access to information about my decision either, which took some stress off me. I was only eighteen when that happened, and to this day, I just let him think he's the one responsible for my inability to conceive.

Now, a girl at the clinic, Angela Weber, just drops them off for me on her way home when Jake's not around. Whenever I call her, I clear out her number from my cellphone so Jake won't ask questions. When she gets me the pills, she usually brings over three months at a time. I immediately hide them in one of the attic crawl spaces under the insulation along with a few of my prized possessions.

Jake would take anything of mine he felt like and usually pawn it for alcohol or drug money. I learned the hard way about not letting on about things I valued. If I'd shown any attachment to something, he would have destroyed it just to make the point that he could. I stopped caring when he ripped up, then burned, every picture I had of my mother. She died six years ago.

Since that time, Charlie, my dad, hasn't been much better. Don't get me wrong; he doesn't abuse me, but he's not the supportive person he used to be anymore, either. He's still chief of police but is real good friends with Jake's dad, Billy. I've tried to hint to him about what's going on, but he throws it back on me like maybe I'm not being a good wife. Yeah right. Our house is spotless, and I've fixed every bit of damage Jake's caused in it. I've always made up excuses for the black eyes, broken bones, and repeated bruises. Charlie chalks it up to me being clumsy like I've always been. Jake's also made it abundantly clear that if I say one word about it to Charlie, he'll kill both Charlie and me and anyone else who helps me to arrest or leave him.

I think the only person who truly realizes what's going on is Edward, and as much as he wants to get me help, he knows it has to be my decision. I really do want to go but am so afraid of dragging anyone else into my hell. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to Edward because of me. Even if Edward was not directly harmed, I wouldn't put it past Jake to burn down the hardware store, or even Edward's house, just to make a point.

I round aisle four and see that they have run out of Jake's favorite mayonnaise. Oh shit. Jake's going to be really pissed when I bring him his lunch. Well, I'll make him a few different sandwiches so maybe he won't throw them at me. I look up with what I'm sure is dismay hardened on my face.

"Hey Bella, you're looking for mayo too, huh? Mrs. Weber must have cleared off the shelf of the good stuff so she can make her famous mayonnaise cakes for the church bake sale this weekend.

"Yeah, that's a shame. I should have planned ahead better." She eyes my basket and sees the brown sugar and chocolate bits.

"Oh, you're making Toll House cookies. Those are Edward's favorite. He especially loves them with chocolate milk. He really needs a steady girlfriend or a wife to take better care of him. He puts in so many hours and even finds time to volunteer, but he never takes care of himself. He's literally asleep before his head hits the pillow each night. One time I actually saw him fall asleep in front of his wood stove with the door open! He's so driven, but I can also tell that he's very lonely, too.

Geez, take a breath, Alice.

"Edward's lonely? He could have his pick of anyone. Any girl would be crazy not to want Edward."

"Oh, it's not that they don't want him, it's just that he doesn't want them. Can I let you in on a little secret? I don't think Edward's ever gotten over losing you to Jake, which sounds dumb because he never had you to begin with."

Oh, if she only knew.

I think the pain in my chest right now is worse than the time he hurt me there….

Jake was sharpening one of his many knives he used when going bear hunting with his boys. I remember how sharp it was. He would set the blade in his garage vice and drop a sheet of notebook paper atop it, neatly creating two white severed halves. By accident, I had day dreamed a minute too long. I cooked his steak medium instead of rare. He said it was too tough to chew, then hurled it against the fridge. I picked up two hundred fourteen fragments of shattered, Corelle, dinnerware after I got back from receiving twenty-one stitches across my chest. That was the second time I left.

As I regain composure from my torturing moment, I feel my eyes widen and my jaw slacken as I process her words.

Edward still cares for me? It's been fourteen years.

"Alice, you have to be exaggerating."

"No, Bella. We've tried to fix him up dozens of times. He keeps making excuses and finding fault with each of them, but whenever your name comes up in conversation, his face beams before his eyes get this wistful look about them. He really does have it bad for you."

"Well, I'm sure you're mistaken and that he just hasn't met the right person yet. I'm sure someday he'll have the girl of his dreams."

"I hope you're right, Bella. Edward deserves happiness."

"I couldn't agree with you more... Well, I still have some shopping to do and some errands to run. It was nice talking to you, Alice."

"It was nice talking to you, too, Bella."

I start to turn away and feel pain when I bend my foot.

"Oh, what happened? You're limping?"

Shit, I really hate lying to people.

"I dropped a piece of firewood on top of my foot; you know we need to get ready for winter. It will be sore for few days, but it will be okay."

"Well, take care now."

"Thanks, Alice, you take care too."

I finish my shopping with a new determination and am anxious to get home now. I use a lot of coupons: some from the newspaper and some printed from online. I've been squirreling away the extra money to save for my rainy day, or maybe it will be a sunny one if, and when, I finally get to leave him.

I load the groceries into my truck and toss Seth a bone that Emmett, Mr. McCarty's son, gave me for him from the meat counter. I get gas first before I have to go back out and bring Jake his lunch. I make note of the mileage on the odometer and figure out what errands I still need to run to compensate for my extra trips today so it doesn't raise any suspicion.

It's after ten, so I know Jake's now at work. I really try to avoid him as much as possible.

The first thing I do is spray our bedroom with disinfectant. It's revolting when I think of the demeaning things I have put up with, but I'm so numb now that I can't find it in me to care anymore.

The first night he brought someone else home, I cried for a week straight and lost ten pounds off my already frail frame. She was red-haired with a freckled face and a year younger than I was. I had soda on the counter I was drinking as I made dinner; I think he put something in it. He made me do things with them that evening that I only vaguely remember now. Humiliated when I awoke to body parts on me that were not his, I left for the third time. I think I became clinically depressed after that. Now, it just further fuels my determination to prepare myself for the right time to just end this.

I start tearing off the comforter and decide I'm just going to ball up the entire contents and wash everything. If I had more money, I would just burn the linens and buy new ones. I feel my face wrinkle in disgust over what an asshole he really is and how much he's changed.

If I could taken my own life, I would have done it long ago just to be rid of this world and his bullshit, but now, apathy and a bit of anger have taken up permanent residence in my core. As I head upstairs from the washer, I shake out of digression and decide I need to busy myself making sandwiches and baking cookies. I end up packing two lunch bags before heading out.

I go to the garage before noon and give Jake his choices. Just as I knew he would, he threw the tuna sandwiches against the wall and bitched for the next fifteen minutes about having to eat ham instead. I gave myself a victory pat; I got off easy today. He actually listened to me and understood, as much as he was capable of, about his brand of mayonnaise being stripped clean off the shelves. I told him the store was setting aside three jars and that I could go get them when they came in tomorrow morning. He was surprisingly okay with that, but I suspect that was because he realized what a jerk he had been to me last night. At least I lucked out in not being roughed up or belittled in front of his coworkers in the shop. I know some of their girlfriends don't fare much better than I do.

I head out and back in to town to do one more errand before I'm done for the day and can head home to fix the glass in the door.

I pull back into Masen's for the third time. I kill the engine and grab the other bag I had set on the seat. I carefully check to see which, if any, prying eyes are around that could get word back to Jake as to my whereabouts. I decide the risk is low and proceed into the store.

"Hello, Bella. You're back again so soon?"

"Yeah, Betsy. Is Edward around? I had to bring Jake some food and remembered what you said about Edward having to share yours. I hope he doesn't mind, but I made him some lunch."

"Oh dear, he'll be delighted for the lunch and to see you. Go on back into the office; he's just finishing up with the stock orders for the week."

"Thanks, Betsy."

Knock Knock

"Just a minute, please."

I hear him finishing his call.

"Come in."

I close the door behind me.

"Bella, twice in one day. To what do I owe this surprise?"

"Actually, it's three times; I came back a few minutes after I left to get weather seal."

"I'm sorry I missed you."

It's in the way that he says it that makes that color I feel return now, heating my cheeks.

"Well, Betsy told me that you had forgotten your lunch this morning and that she probably would have to be sharing her liverwurst with you, which she knows you don't much care for. She also mentioned how you liked tuna, so I made you a few sandwiches – one for now and another for later, if you need it. Oh, I also ran into Alice at the grocery store, and she saw I was making chocolate chip cookies and told me how much you liked them with chocolate milk. You wouldn't let me pay for the glass, the weather seal, or even the Ace bandage, so here I am along with them."

"Bella, you went to all that trouble to make me lunch… and cookies… and buy me chocolate milk?"

"Oh, come on, Edward. Look at all of the wonderful things you do for me. It's the least I can do."

I hand him the bag, and the first thing he takes out are the cookies. He opens the container I placed them in, and the look on his face he gives me - just like the bits of chocolate in my cookies - melts away all of the aggravation and despair I have had to deal with in the last twelve hours.

"Oh Bella, these smell unbelievable, and they're still warm."

He takes a bite. I watch the sheer bliss on his face and am so happy that someone actually appreciates my efforts rather than chastises them.

"Mmmmmm, ohhhhhh, this is the best cookie I have ever tasted…and don't you dare tell my grandmother that I said that. She'll stop baking for me permanently."

"I highly doubt she'll do that, but thank you for the compliment, all the same."

"Forgive me. Where are my manners? Please have a seat, Bella. Would you like a cookie?"

"No, no thanks Edward. I had my share already. You enjoy them."

"That is just as well because I would really hate to part with any of these."

"Why, Edward, I don't think I've ever known you to be selfish. In fact you'd probably give the shirt off your back to someone."

Saying that, right there, was a bad thing for me because now, I'm imagining him shirtless.

And I'm pink again.

"Bella, you know I would give anything to anyone, but seriously, these are fantastic. I am very happy not to part with any of them."

"Oh, don't forget about the sandwich. I wouldn't want you sporting a sugar high on your customers this afternoon because you polished off all your cookies and didn't eat a regular lunch. There are chips in there, too, and a few of my canned dill pickles, as well."

"God, Bella, you're going to spoil me."

"That's the idea. You really are so wonderful to everyone. Why shouldn't you be pampered?"

Now I got him to blush.

He takes a quick bite of the tuna to hide his embarrassment.

"Please excuse me for speaking while I'm eating, but this is wonderful, too. It's been so long since someone's made me lunch. Thank you so much. I was really dreading having to partake in my grandmother's liverwurst."

He makes a scrunched up face at the thought.

"Well, as I said, I made you enough, so if you get stuck here for a while, you can have a snack before you go home, too."

"Thank you so much, Bella. Everything tastes better when someone else makes it, but coming from you, it tastes especially delicious.

I think we're competing now to see who can outdo each other with the compliments.

I get up to go.

"Wait, before you leave, I really meant what I said before. Any time you need my help, please don't hesitate."

His eyes meet mine, and he takes his hand and gently cradles my left cheek. Unconsciously, I lean into it.

"I mean it, Bella. I want to help you. You are a special person whom I care for very deeply for. Please promise me you'll consider my assistance whenever you're ready for it."

"Yes, Edward and thank you."

I am overwhelmed by my emotions, and I start tearing up. He signals me to move forward.

"Come here."

I know I should hesitate because this is a really bad idea, but I can't help myself and take a step towards him. He puts his arms around me and rocks me from side to side. One arm wraps around my shoulders while the other rubs the back of my head over my hoodie where Jake pulled my hair. Even though it's tender and sore, I'd endure this pain any day just to be touched like this by Edward.

This is what it would have been like had he danced with me that night so long ago. I don't want him to stop holding me, but I feel a part of him stirring and don't want to be the cause of his abashment. I pull away but take in the fact that I now have a new resolve. This is what it can be like: warm, soft, firm, and comforting.

"I'm sorry, Edward."

He pulls away slowly and steps back to look at me.

"I'm not. The only thing I'm sorry for is the years I've wasted waiting so long to do that. I've always wondered what it would feel like the first time I held you, and now I realize that my imagination didn't even come close to the reality of how amazing that moment just was."

I stare intensely and swallow forcefully, taking in his disclosure while trying to absorb the impact of what he is saying. Edward really does care for me, and I want him to. I'm terrified over what this might mean, but for once I allow myself to dream of a different life.

"Edward…"

"Shhh, please, Bella, don't say anything. I have waited to do that since I was in kindergarten on the first day of school. You mesmerized me. I loved your swinging braids, big brown eyes and warm sweet smile- the smile I now so rarely see when you're with anyone else.

I don't know what this means for us both, but if it's any consolation, I'll wait for you forever. I know this is horrible of me and goes against all Sunday school teachings I've endured regarding not coveting another man's wife, but I can never see myself with anyone else except you."

I feel myself starting to get shaky and panicky over the enormity of his words … He loves me.

"Edward, I-I need to go. I-I need time to process what you are saying. I can't-can't say anything right now."

"God, Bella. Please, I didn't say these things to upset you. I've just been holding in my feelings for so long that my dam finally broke, but I'm not taking anything back. I mean it. I will wait for you for as long as it takes. You don't belong with him. He doesn't deserve you."

"Okay." I say it quietly; it's the best I can offer him.

I turn and leave his office in a stunned state. I barely acknowledge Betsy but manage to at least give her a kind wave before settling in my truck and starting for home.

Home, it could be in a different place, with a different meaning and a different person. It could be with someone who adores me instead of one who obsesses over me.

As I pull into my driveway, I fall out of my reverie and contemplate how a new life could even be possible. Jake would kill me before he'd ever let me go, but as frightening as that realization is, I've just come to realize that I need a detailed plan.

A/N's:

17,000 homicides are committed each year stemming from domestic abuse.

Statistically, on average, it takes a victim seven times of leaving and returning to an abuser before a victim leaves for good.

When a victim finally does make that decision, it is the most dangerous time; a victim may be severely assaulted or even killed.

If you, or people you know, have made the decision to leave an abusive relationship, call the

National Domestic Violence Hotline for information on how to plan for safety.

1-800-799-SAFE.

Also visit the website, National Network to End Domestic Violence at .org

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Beta'd by Chaya Sara and Bannered by Mina Rivera. I humbly thank them both.

Thank you goes out to Bornonhalloween, Edward's Eternal, Midnight Cougar, and Cutestkidsmom for recommending me around on Facebook and their respective blogs.

Thank you also goes out to Scared Icy," L" from Utah, and Daphodill for giving me some fresh perspectives on this serious topic.