A/N: Okay. So … I'm issuing a trigger and tissue paper warning for this chapter because this one deals with mentions of domestic abuse and the aftermath of that, but not in details. But my sweet beta, Ashmerlin, told me that this chapter might need a tissue paper warning. So ... you've been warned.
With that being said, enjoy the fourth day of your Christmas pressie. :*
Chapter-4: BPOV
As I slowly open my eyes, they focus on the vibrant green ones looking worriedly at me.
I open my mouth to speak, but then I watch his tongue poke out to lick his lips, as if tasting me on him, and I lose it.
Reaching out, I cup a hand behind his neck and pull his lips back on mine.
He doesn't respond for a heartbeat, but then, he's right there with me, kissing me back with the same urgency I feel.
When we part, both of us are gasping for breath as we exchange the goofiest of grins.
After that first date, Edward and I start hanging out on our own without using Rose as a buffer. He comes to my school to have lunch with me and then on weekends, he takes me out to do the most date-like things to do in Seattle. It's cheesy and somewhat clichéd, but we get to spend time together, and that's all that matters to me.
Everything seems like a dream until about a month before he's due to leave for Iraq when he takes me for a surprise wine tasting.
As soon as the smell of alcohol reaches me, I feel the small hairs at the back of my neck prickle. And then one of the servers offers two glasses of wine to us as a welcoming drink.
Without thinking about my actions, I put a hand on my face, covering my nose and mouth as I take my other hand out of Edward's and run for the exit.
"Bella! Bella, what's wrong?" I hear him call from behind, but I keep running, needing to get away from this stench as fast as possible.
Once I am outside and can feel the cool night air greeting me, I allow my feet to slow down. That's when Edward catches up to me.
When I see him reach for me, I flinch away of my own volition, and being the good man he is, he lets his hand fall to his side. He takes in the wild, tortured look in my eyes and then says softly, "There's a little park a few blocks away. We can sit there and watch the Sound. Do you wanna go?"
Silently, I nod. He nods back and then starts walking slowly, making sure I'm still beside him.
Together, we move, our bodies a few inches apart, until we reach a park bench, overlooking the body of water as he promised.
He waits until I take a seat before sitting down next to me, still maintaining the distance I had asked for with my eyes.
After the clean air begins to infiltrate my senses, I start to relax.
When I look at Edward, I see him staring at the water, giving me a sense of privacy in his own way.
That's when I decide that he deserves to know about it. All of it.
In a voice filled with trepidation, I begin speaking, keeping my eyes downcast so that I won't see the pity in his eyes once I tell him my story.
"My dad was a police officer. We used to live in a small town called Forks. I had a happy childhood … until my dad was killed in his line of duty." I take a deep breath to keep the tears, threatening to spill from my eyes, at bay. "After dad passed away, my mom moved us to Seattle. She said we'll get more opportunities in a big city. Unfortunately, that also meant a bigger supply of booze for my mother. Soon after our move, mom started waitressing at a bar. That's where she took up drinking. She became a chronic alcoholic. She'd get drunk everyday and then bring strange men home from the bar to hook up with. When the men left in the morning, she would turn on me. She would accuse me for being there and making her boyfriends leave because no one wanted to take care of someone else's kid. She would beat me until I couldn't move so she could get drunk and bring the next man home without me letting him know of my existence. In the early years of my life, I learned that I was a burden and a liability."
I stop for a moment, gulping down air to stop myself from breaking down before continuing. "When I reached my teen years, the troubles multiplied. The men mom brought home would stare at me, sometimes even try to make a pass at me. I would run away from home to hide out in the local library until morning dawned and I knew the men would be gone. But at home, mom would be waiting for me. She would blame me for trying to lure her lovers away from her. She would drink more booze and keep on beating me until I promised to not let anyone see me. I tried so hard to become invisible, to just become one with the dirty mildew-riddled walls of our apartment, but somehow someone would see me and the cycle would repeat itself."
After finishing my sordid tale, I quiet down, allowing him the chance to come to his own conclusions about me. On the outside, I try to appear aloof, but on the inside, it felt like I was going to suffocate. I fear that like my old boyfriend, Mike, Edward will run away after knowing how damaged I am.
When he speaks, his voice sounds controlled … cold almost. "What happened to your mother?"
I shrug in an attempt at nonchalance. "She married a guy half her age and got sober. They moved away to Florida. Haven't seen her since her wedding day." Seen or even heard from her, I add silently. Thank God.
He lets out a barely audible sigh. "She's lucky."
This time, I can't hide the hurt from my voice as I ask incredulously, "She's lucky? I had to go to therapy for years and still flinch at the scent of alcohol and all you have to say is 'She's lucky'?"
He turns his head to look at me, finally allowing me to see the unshed tears making his eyes look brighter than the brightest star. "She's lucky because if she was anywhere near you, I would have knocked down her door and demanded that she apologize to you," he says in one breath.
That's when I let my tears fall. In a steady stream they make their way down my cheeks. My vision gets blurry and I feel Edward wrap his arms around me.
This time, I don't protest.
This time, I welcome his embrace.
He slowly rocks me in his arms, not speaking another word, not interrupting me as I mourn my lost childhood. He simply holds me to him, occasionally kissing away my tears only to have more take their spots.
Once I'm all cried out, he kisses my forehead and says something I couldn't remember hearing anyone saying to me before. "You are a survivor, honey. You lived through it all and still turned into this amazing woman. I am so proud of you."
I am stunned by his admission, and more than anything, I'm happy to have this man look at me with pride instead of pity like the others.
He holds me in his arms the entire trip back to my apartment. When he turns to leave me, I reach out to grab his arm. "Don't go," I whisper.
It takes him only a moment to decide.
He doesn't leave that night. Instead, he simply holds me in his arms as I sleep, chasing my nightmares away.
That is the first time I sleep contentedly, feeling safe, in his arms.
A/N: So that's that. How are we doing?
Please share your thoughts with me and leave a review. I try to address them as best as I can. :)
See you tomorrow.
Love,
Ann
