A/N: Any and all things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer
Previously in Against All Odds:
"What is your name? Do you know?" – I asked. It had just occurred to me that maybe she didn't know her name. That would be sad.
"I know my name" – she said, angry at the assumption that she didn't.
"What is it?" – I insisted
"Isabella"
That simple name, said in such a kind, low voice, almost a whisper, made my whole world spin. Her name. It couldn't be. The name, the eyes… Could it be true? Could this girl be her?
Episode 3 – The big suprise
I was frozen. I couldn't find the words to talk. I couldn't even think hard enough to formulate a whole sentence. My voice wouldn't work, even if I did find something to say.
The girl, Isabella, was staring at me, confused. No wonder thinking why her name had scared me so much. She couldn't know, of course.
It couldn't be her. It just couldn't. It was just a coincidence.
I kept repeating that in my mind for long time ten minutes before I could speak again.
"How old are you?" – My voice sounded harsher than I wished but it didn't scare her. Luckily, she was much too confused about my reaction to notice. She didn't answer my question and I immediately recognized my mistake. Talking to her like that wouldn't work. I had to be patient and stay calm.
"I'm sorry" – I said, honestly. "I just… I had an old friend with that name" – I said. It wasn't lying. Not technically. "But I haven't seen her in years"
Her eyes softened. She took a deep breath.
"Do you miss her?"
It was the first question she asked me. The first time she took the initiative to speak. I had to reward that.
"I do. I miss her very much. I think about her everyday" – now this was the absolute truth.
Now my eyes were filled with tears.
"Don't be sad" – she pleaded. "Please"
She was about to cry as well. I fought back my tears and turned my attention back at her
"So, you didn't tell me. How old are you?"
"I'm 20"
Twenty years old. It couldn't be. How old would she be today? I did the math in my head. It wasn't complicated at all. It's been ten years. She would be 20! This is too much. Too many coincidences. Could it really be her or it was just wishful thinking on my part?
"I'm 25 years-old. My birthday in on June 20. When is your birthday?" – I had to make sure the coincidence would stop. She didn't even realize that her answer could bring me back to earth or send me over the edge.
"I don't know" – Ok, it wasn't the answer I was expecting
"How come you don't know? How do you know when you get older?"
"I count on New Year's Eve. I think, I whole year passed, so I am one year older" – she said, like it was the most simple thing in the world. And in reality it was. It was pure logic. She wasn't an idiot.
"But how do you know how old you are, if you don't know you're birthday"
"When I went to the hospital, the doctors told me I was eleven. And that was nine years ago. So now I'm twenty. I can count, you know" – she still speaking softly, but appeared mad at the assumption that she didn't know something.
This girl was too precious for words. I smiled at her, she seemed to calm down.
"Why were you in the hospital?"
She didn't answer. She looked down at her feet and it seems like time for sharing was over. But I couldn't and wouldn't give up so fast. The suspicion was growing in my head and with each passing minute I was more and more convinced that the girl sitting in front of me was her. Even though my rational side was telling me I was crazy.
"Are you sick?" – I asked
"Yes"
She was sick. This was awful. I felt like my heart was breaking in a million pieces. Could I help? What did she have?
"What do you have? Is it cancer?" – That would be too sad. So young…
"No. Not that kind of sick. I just, don't remember stuff" – she said. She doesn't remember stuff? Did she mean like short time memory? Is that why she didn't remember her birthday? Would she forget me? If I come back tomorrow would she know who I am?
"I don't know the name" – she said, interrupting my inner struggle. "I just don't remember anything before going to the hospital. The doctor said I would remember. But I didn't" – she continued. She sounded sad.
"I'm sorry" – it was all I could say. She remained silent.
I took the time to recap on the new information
Her name was Isabella – the same as her
She was 20 years old – just like she would be
She doesn't remember anything before 9 years ago – It has been ten years since the day I last saw her.
It all adds up. This could be her. It was fucking unbelievable but it was true. I could possibly be standing in front of her. After all these years.
I looked back at Isabella. She was sitting on the bed, her back up against the wall. Her head was down and she had her eyes closed. She was tired. I decided not to push for more answers, mostly because she obviously would not answer if she was sleeping. I argued with myself whether I should take out a blanket and cover her, but decided against it. I didn't want to risk scaring her by getting too close and plus the weather was warm, she wouldn't be cold.
I rested on the back of the chair silently, but the old furniture ruined my plans to stay quiet with a loud creak. She jerked her head up in full alert.
"Sorry" – I said. "I brought a pillow for you" – I continued, reaching for the bag and pulling it out. I laid it on the bed and moved back to the armchair.
Isabella slowly reached for it. She picked it up and hugged it. Then, she looked back at me, questioning in her eyes
"You?" – she said, softly. It took me a while to figure out what she meant. She was asking if I had one.
"I have one" – I lied. I didn't want her to think I was leaving just yet or that I would be uncomfortable because of her. Because then, she would be uncomfortable and that would completely ruin all the progress I made. "I'm not tired right now" – I completed.
This was true, all the information she gave me got me wired and there was no way I would be able to sleep, even if I wanted to, which I didn't.
She laid down on the bed with her head on the purple pillow. She looked comfortable around me now, even after only a few hours together. This girl had nobody with her. How long has she been here? Was someone looking for her?
If she really is who I think she is, there are a lot of people looking for her. Including me. Specially me.
She was sleeping now. I got up and walked to the side of the bed, slowly sitting down. I kept my eyes firm on her and her small figure. She really did look familiar. I couldn't be imagining that?
A thought occurred to be just them. Could I be imagining her? Is this girl even real? It could happen. You wish for something so much that you start imagining it happened. Could I be delusional to the point of making up someone so I can tell myself that I found her?
I reached out my hand and poked her gently with my finger. I could feel her. She was definitely real.
I went back to my chair and watched her sleep for the rest of the night. Right around 3am, I made the decision that I wouldn't abandon her. I would take Isabella with me. I would get her out of here. I would take her to London with me and I would take care of her until the day she could make it on her own. The hard part would be convincing her. But I would do it. I had to. I didn't do charity work and I wasn't the most giving person, hell, I didn't even let old ladies cut in front of me at the supermarket, but I would not turn my back at someone who obviously needed help.
Isabella woke up at 8pm. At first she seemed surprised with her surrounds but I guess the events of last night came back to her and she relaxed. She sat up on the bed and looked at the armchair, obviously searching for me. The thought made me happy. I smiled at her.
"Good morning" – I said. I knew there would be no response but said it anyway. "I don't think you should drink the milk from last night because it was out of the fridge for the night and the weather is pretty warm. But I still have a bottle of water" – I said, getting the water out of the bag and reaching out to her. I would not rest it on the bed. She would have to take from me. If I wanted to get her in a car with me by the end of the day I had to move fast.
She didn't back out as I thought, though. She hesitated, of course, but took the bottle from my hands. She wasn't so unpredictable, tough. Just like the night before, she couldn't get the bottle opened. I wouldn't offer. She would have to ask. Of course, there was always the possibility that she wouldn't, but I took my chances.
She looked frustrated as she failed to get the bottle opened and noticed I was watching her. She gave up after a while and focused her eyes on the bottle. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and extended the bottle to me, silently asking me to open it.
It was good, but I wanted more. She would have to say the words. I worried that I was being mean when I remembered that she almost cried last night after she couldn't get the other bottle to open.
"You can trust me Isabella. You can talk to me. You can ask me" – I reassured her.
Finally she understood what I was doing and took another deep breath, biting her lower lip. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then looked back at me
"Can you open for me, please?" – she said, shyly, extending the bottle to me again.
I smiled and took the bottle from her hands.
"It would be my pleasure" – I did as she asked and handed the bottle back at her. She drank almost the entire bottle, before stopping dead on her track. For a moment I wondered what was bothering her, until she explained the source for her worries.
"Do you want?" – She said, apologetic. She was so sweet. I realized she was worried because she feared being rude.
"No. I'm good". – I say, smiling. "I'd like to know more about you" – I said, sitting back on my chair. I still had the feeling it would break any time. "What's your favorite color?" – starting with casual questions would be better, sort of a warm up
"Green" – she said, with no hesitation.
"What's your favorite food?"
"I don't have one" – she said
"Everybody has a favorite food. You can tell me. Mine is mushroom ravioli"
"I can make that" – she said, smiling
"Yeah? You can cook?"
"Yes"
"So you must have a favorite food" – what's the deal? Why can't she tell me?
"I'm not allowed to eat what I cook."
Ok. That was weird.
"How did you end up here?" – I asked. Time for the hard questions to begin.
"How did you?" – she fired back. She was feisty
"I won this house. My old piano teacher died and left it to me" – I explained. I learned my lesson. If I wanted to know her I would have to let her know me. Show her mine so she can show me hers
"This is your house?" – She asked, her voice trembling. She was scared now.
"Yes"
"Are you gonna take me back? Please, please don't take me back. Please" – she was panicking now. Her voice was weak. She was on her knees on the bed. Her hands clamped together in front of her face. Like she was praying. But she wasn't. She was begging me not to take her back. Back where?
"Please. No. He'll hurt me again. I can't take it anymore. I'll do anything. Anything" – she continue. Who would hurt her? Who did hurt her? I felt my blood boil with anger.
"Who hurt you?" – I screamed, to make sure she heard me under her cries.
She flinched but otherwise didn't move. She didn't answer either, just continued to beg.
"I won't take you back. But only if you tell you hurt you and why" – I said. I was a low blow, but it had to be done. I would never, ever take her back to someone who hurt her, but she understood my threat and started to talk again.
"James. My owner" – she said
"Your owner?" – How did he own her? Was she… No. I couldn't be.
"Are you a slave?" – I asked, angry, disgusted, surprised and appalled. How could type of life still exist?
"Yes"
Again, her soft whisper turned my world upside down. This girl in front of me. This precious, small, kind, smart, feisty girl. The girl who could possibly be the girl who I prayed for every night. She is a slave.
I stood from the chair and kneed in the bed in front of her. Her eyes wide in surprise but she didn't move away. She let her head down, defeated. I couldn't have that.
"Look at me" – I said, firmly but still trying to be gentle. She did as she was told. Looking me dead in the eyes. "I will never take you back to him. Ever. No matter what happens, no matter what you do or don't do. And I will never let anyone hurt you again. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Do you understand?"
She nodded quietly. I left out the breath I was holding and relaxed my back.
She was crying, maybe she was still scared or maybe she was relieved, I didn't know, but I meant what I said. No one would ever hurt her again. I reached out my hand and cupped her face, wiping her tear. She didn't pull away, she froze, stiff, but I wouldn't back down. I would prove that I wouldn't hurt her, even if I had the opportunity. I felt a joint of electricity run from my hand to the rest of my body and my heart beat accelerated so much, I though my heart would burst from my chest.
"Isabella, I want to take you to London with me" – I revealed. "I would take you to my house. You could take a shower, eat something and rest. Please, Isabella, let me take you with me"
"Where is London?"
"London is about an hour and twenty minutes from here. Is a big city and I live there" – I explained
"Are you my owner now?" – She asked. I have never been so angry in my entire life. Not at her of course, but at however made her think she was worth nothing.
"No" – I said harshly. I didn't care if I scared her. That point had to come across. "I'm your friend. I want to be your friend. Would you be my friend?" – I said, more gently
"Yes." – She answered
"Good. That's very good." – I said. "Now, I'm going to ask you again. And you can no if you want to, ok?"
She nodded once.
"Would you go to London with me?"
"We walk there?" – She asked, looking up at me. We were still on out knees on the bed and my hand was still cupping her face
"No. We take the car. Is that a yes?"
She was silent. Would she take my offer? I hope she would, otherwise I would have to keep coming back and forth all the time. I could do it on the weekend, but during the week it would be complicated.
"Will he find me there?" – She asked
"Who?" – I was confused until I remembered. Her so called owner. The low life who kept her as a slave.
"No. He won't" – I assured her. "Isabella, he won't hurt you again. He can't do that, ok. Having slaves is wrong and only sick twisted even people do that. He won't get to you anymore. Ever"
"Ok"
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes" – she said. One simple word has never made me so happy. And to complete, she was smiling back at me. Carefree and beautiful.
What's your favorite food?
I promise this won't be a slave story. This piece of information is important, of course, and it will be brought up along the chapters, but the main focus is about Bella finding her way back to her previous life. If she really is who Edward thinks she is or not, will find out soon enough. ; )
The next chapter on Monday (December 27)
Merry Christmas, everybody!
