A/N: This chapter is the one that all the abuse warnings/M rating are for, so please exercise caution. I don't want to hurt anyone by allowing them to inadvertantly read something they find triggering or distressing.
Chapter Song - Taking over Me – Evanescence
you don't remember me but i remember you
i lie awake and try so hard not to think of you
but who can decide what they dream?
and dream i do...
His name is Rick and he's strikingly well-spoken for the rural, Mid-Western town where they live. He has blue eyes and jet black hair which aims to be dashingly Italianate, but his roots are a tell-tale shade of mousy brown that gives the game away. He works as a lower level sergeant at the local police station and is respected within the community. When they first get together, everybody talks about how lucky Elizabeth is to land herself such a catch, especially considering her situation. A single mother, abandoned by her family and far too fond of Smirnoff, she could do far worse than Rick O'Connel. So they say.
One night a month and a half after Rick first comes onto the scene, Edward is lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He's wearing his Jedi pyjamas. They're faded and too small and just a teensy bit babyish, but they're his favourites. Rick bought him some other ones a couple of weeks ago, but they were Star Trek, not Star Wars and Edward hadn't wanted to wear them. That had annoyed Rick for a little while, but Elizabeth had distracted him and, from the way he'd been glancing at her the whole time while giving Edward the gift, it was clear that the gesture had been aimed at her anyway. Edward still hasn't taken the pyjamas out of the wrapper.
His mom has been gone for approximately two hours and twenty four minutes. Not that he's counting, of course – that would mean he was scared of being alone, and if there was one thing Edward is not it's a scaredy cat. He's braver than all of the kids in his grade, for sure. Still, he doesn't really like it when Elizabeth goes out at night. The house makes weird noises when he's the only one in it.
Edward must doze off for a little while, because the next thing he knows he can hear the front door opening and the sound of laughter and footsteps. Edward tries to read the clock on his wall, but it's too dark to see it clearly and, anyway, he still isn't the greatest at telling the time. Then, his bedroom door swings open, the bright light from the hallway flooding in and blinding him.
"Hello darling," he hears his mom purr. He peers at her through blurry eyes and she laughs raucously. Edward can make out her and Ricks' shadowy figures framed by light in the doorway. Elizabeth comes over to his side and he sees her stumble a little on the way. Edward's heart sinks. He hates it when his mom gets like this. She practically falls to her knees by his bed and proceeds to cover him with kisses. She smells of that nasty, strong smell that always covers her every time she's been out.
"Don't you love me, sweetheart?" she implores. Edward kisses her back dutifully. "My beautiful, wonderful little boy," Elizabeth coos. Then, her gurgling is replaced by a cough, which develops into a racking wheeze. She straightens up and takes a few moments to recover. Then: "I'm going to go to my room," she murmurs, turning her back on her son. "Coming, Rick?" There's a suggestive undertone to her voice which makes Edward feel sick, although he doesn't quite understand why.
"Just a minute babe," Edward hears Rick reply. "Why don't you go and warm yourself up for me?"
"Okay," she giggles. Edward feels the vibrations of the floor as she half skips, half falls out of the room.
Edward stares at the ceiling. He does not want to talk to Rick.
But it seems Rick wants to talk to him.
"Hello, tyke." Rick's low voice suddenly seems a lot nearer and Edward realises that he has come across the room. There's a weight on the bed as he sits down. Edward squeaks quietly and shuffles to the edge, trying to put as much space between them as possible. "Ssssh, Edward, it's just me," Rick whispers in a voice which is clearly supposed to be consoling. "I think we need to have a little talk."
Edward does not reply.
"I get the feeling you don't like me, you see?" As Rick speaks, he pats the part of the duvet which covers Edward's thigh, in what is clearly supposed to be a chummy, reassuring gesture. His hand lingers there slightly too long.
"Why is that, do you think?" Don't answer don't answer don't answer. Edward doesn't know what to say anyway, and he hopes that by not speaking maybe Rick will think he's fallen asleep and get bored and go away.
"Is it because you don't want me as a daddy?" There's a rustle and a sudden breath of cold air as Edward feels his covers lift. He shuts his eyes.
"Or maybe it's because you want your mommy all to yourself?" Edward can hear the sound of fingers ghosting across his sheets.
"Are you jealous of how much time I spend with her? I don't blame you for that – your mother is really something special." Edward can feel the duvet move and because he doesn't want to think about Rick's hand creeping ever closer he makes himself remember the design on his duvet cover. It's of the San Diego Chargers' mascot – his mom bought it for him for his sixth birthday. He wishes his mom was here now, but she said she was going to bed.
Rick is still talking to him, but now his voice has got lower and breathier and he's leaned in so close that his face is almost level with Edward's ear. Edward can feel his damp, hot breath on his neck. Meanwhile, the fingers that Edward had been ignoring start to travel across his stomach.
He thinks again of football and the Chargers and their chances in the league. But it doesn't work, because he still hears the sound of a zip go in the darkness, so he starts to relive the scene in The Empire Strikes Back when Luke runs through the swamps.
And in Edward's head, the movements on his bed are just the creatures in the swamp and the hand below his waist is the murky mud that he has to wade through to get to the other side. And if he screws up his eyes tight enough, he can see the stars that hang in the sky above, lighting his way out the swamp, to safety. He starts to count them...
...and now he's counting the stars so furiously that he's losing track of how many there've been and going towards numbers he hasn't even learnt yet. Maybe if he shouts them in his head loud enough it'll be enough to wake Yoda up and start the next scene... Maybe it will stop him from feeling the mud pushing hard against him or hearing the low grunts of the forest as it sways around him, suffocating him.
Perhaps if he counts loud and fast enough he'll eventually fall asleep and this will become nothing more than a nightmare...
... Edward woke up, shaking and panting, drenched in his own sweat. After a few disorientated seconds, he realised that he was sobbing. He raised his hands and clasped his throat, practically choking himself to make the sound stop. Once it had, he rolled on to his side, almost falling off the bed as he made himself get up. Kicking away the clammy bed covers, he rose shakily to his feet. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was 3.a.m. He staggered to a door on the right wall, which opened onto a tiny washroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. His face was pale, his hair on end. There were beads of sweat still lingering around his eyebrows. He looked at his own eyes; they were bloodshot. The memory of Rick's bloodshot eyes looking down at him suddenly came back full force and, unable to stop himself, Edward wretched, vomiting into the sink.
Afterwards he just stood there, trembling over the basin, his arms barely supporting himself from falling down. His breaths were ragged and felt sharp and sickly inside his chest. Snatches from the dream kept bursting into his mind, creating a double vision which jarred nauseatingly with the reality of his darkened bedroom.
sssh, Edward, it's just me – a weight on the bed – stars...
He let out another strangled sob, and ducked back over the basin to wretch once more.
When he submerged, his mind was made up.
...
Ten minutes, a quick shower and a pair of crumpled clothes from the floor later, Edward found himself jamming the keys into the ignition of his car and driving out onto the road with a screech.
A yellow post-it note sat on the passenger seat. Written on it in neat, regulated handwriting was an address. Above it was a name:
Bella Swan.
A/N: Short, I know, but the next one will be up soon. Thanks so much for all the comments/constructive criticism you left on the last chapter. It surprised me that so many people thought Bella had been too abrupt with the big reveal - I never thougt of it like that before, but following your comments it's definitely something I'll consider changing if I rewrite. Apologies also for my mistakes re: Americano and canon inconstistencies (like saying Edward had brown hair. Duhhhh...)
Hope you liked the chapter :)
