Chapter 3: The Survivor

Where Am I?

Bella Swan

After the shock of seeing Edward half-naked, my brain was still struggling to function.

I couldn't deny it – he was definitely good looking. Did that mean I was suddenly going to jump into bed with him? Absolutely not.

On one hand, I was his abductee. He could do whatever he wanted with me, and I would have pretty much no way to stop him. I could try running, but I saw where that got me before. I didn't think I would be trying that again.

The last option – suicide. Or, I could convince someone to kill me. I doubted that would work. And again, my options were limited.

I sighed and curled back up on the couch. This was going to be a little tough to live out. I didn't even know what would happen to me anymore.

Edward emerged out of the bathroom – fully clothed, thankfully. He came to sit on the chair opposite me.

"So, what would you like to do?" he asked.

"Other than get out of here?" I glared at him. Yes, I was back, and in full angry mode too.

"I dare you to try it," he challenged me.

"I dare you to give me a ten minute head start." I raised an eyebrow.

"You know I can't do that."

I curled into myself even more, almost as if I was trying to protect myself. I looked around again, just for something to look at other than him, and my eyes fell on the bed. Involuntarily, I shuddered. That would, no doubt, be the bed where my innocence was taken. Though Edward seemed to be acting moderately nice right now, I knew it was only a façade that wouldn't last that long.

"Talk to me, Bella," Edward commanded.

I just glared at him again. "I am – well, I was."

"Tell me about yourself," he pushed.

"You know what you need to know. It's your turn. Tell me about yourself," I echoed his words back to him.

"You know what you need to know," he said stonily, repeating my words back to me.

"No, I don't," I retorted. "I don't know why you fight in this war. I don't know where you come from, what your family's like, what your childhood was like, anything."

"Why do you need to know all that stuff?"

"Why do you need to know all that stuff about me?" I countered.

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a half smile. "You're interesting."

I nodded. "There you go. You're interesting too."

He sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll tell you about myself."

"Well, praise be," I muttered sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow at me. I smiled. "Please, tell."

Edward took a deep breath and exhaled. "Well, I'm nineteen. You know that. I was born in Chicago, but the war broke out when I was seven. I think my childhood was a lot like yours, because I never knew my father, and I don't know where my mother is now."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"I don't really know," he said, running a hand through his hair. I had a sudden urge to feel it, but I pushed that thought away. "It was just…she was there one day, and gone the next. I'd gone to school like always, and when I came back, she was just… gone."

"Did you have any siblings?"

He hesitated, and I could tell it was a touchy subject, but I didn't feel any guilt for asking. "Well…it's kind of complicated."

"I can keep up."

He pushed a hand through his messy hair again. "My mom got pregnant when I was four. I don't remember what happened, but she lost the baby."

"Who was the father, if you didn't know yours?" I asked.

Edward shook his head. "I never knew. I didn't have the sense to ask back then, and by the time I realized that she couldn't have impregnated herself, it was too late to ask."

I was silent for a minute. I felt sad at hearing his story, but it wasn't unlike those brought about by the war. Something that all children of refugee camps learned quickly was that war spares no one – young, old, male, female – all of them are subjected to the utmost horrors.

"Jasper and Emmett, two other soldiers, they're like my brothers now. I don't know what I'd do without them," he said softly.

The name Jasper rung a slight bell. "Oh, right, Jasper came looking for you," I said.

"Oh. Did he say what he wanted?"

I shook my head. "So why are you a soldier?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I wanted to be in the army. I wanted to fight."

"Why?"

"I…I don't know if I want to talk about it."

I nodded. "That's fine. I'm happy that you were able to tell me that much."

Edward regarded me again. "You're strange, you know?"

"I appreciate the compliment," I said sarcastically.

"No, really. You're surprisingly calm for someone who's been abducted."

"You can't read my mind," I retorted. "So you wouldn't be able to tell."

"In that case, you're extremely good at hiding your emotions. Don't you feel even a bit afraid of me?"

"I thought we already went over that."

"What, that you're afraid of me?"

"Keep talking, and I'll cut my own tongue off."

"If you do that, I'll kill you."

"Good, then maybe I will cut it off."

There was a moment of silence.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Would I be?"

"You can't seriously want to die, do you?"

"Please don't try telling me that you've never had suicidal thoughts since the war started."

He ran a hand through his hair again. I was starting to realize it was more of a nervous habit. "Okay, I have, but that stopped. Why do you want to die?"

I didn't say anything. This was the point where I would shut up. I was already a bit angry with myself for revealing that death would be an acceptable option, but I guess he already knew that.

"Please answer me," he said politely.

I remained silent.

"Please?" he asked. He was moving closer, his eyes sparkling.

I closed my own eyes. I didn't want to look at him.

"Bella…" his crooning voice reached my ear, and I felt his hand on my face. Gently, he was turning me towards him. I kept my eyes closed.

"Beautiful," he whispered. I shuddered minutely, and tried to back away, but I couldn't really do that with my eyes closed.

I opened my eyes and gasped. He was much closer than I expected. I instinctively threw myself backwards, but was met with the armrest of the couch.

Stupid fucking couch.

"Get away from me," I said, but my voice shook a little bit. I didn't want him near me. No. Even if he'd agreed to respect my personal space, he sure wasn't doing so now.

"Answer me, then," he commanded.

"See? This is what I'm talking about," I said angrily. "You're not honoring our little agreement. You agreed to respect my personal space! If you can't even do that, how the hell am I—"

The flow of angry words was stopped by Edward's mouth crashing down on mine.

What. The. Hell.

I didn't even have time to react. One second, I was ranting at him, next, I couldn't even breathe.

He'd pushed me over so that I was under him, my back against the couch, his hands holding my hips down. His mouth hungrily attacked mine, nipping at my bottom lip.

I couldn't push him off me, but not for the lack of trying. He was simply too fucking strong. I kept pushing, but he didn't even seem to notice that I was fighting him.

I felt his tongue poke at my lips, pushing them apart slightly. He was trying to shove his tongue into my mouth, and I wasn't going to have that.

I brought my leg up and kneed him right where it hurts the most. He let go of me, and I took the very welcome opportunity to jump up from the couch.

"What the hell was that?" I screamed. I backed away from the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Edward muttered. "I couldn't help myself."

"Asshole!" I shrieked. "I thought you would stay away from that!"

"Look, I'm sorry!" he yelled back at me. "It's not my fault I'm attracted to you – and by the way, that fucking hurt."

"Good," I said vindictively. "I really hope it did. You can't just do that!"

"I'm pretty sure I can," he said, getting up from the couch. "You can't stop me."

"What type of monster are you?" I demanded. "You're treating me like I'm not a human being!"

"I could be treating you worse," he said darkly, echoing his words from earlier.

I couldn't believe it. I'd thought that I would actually be able to live with this fucker, and then he goes and ruins it.

My mind was screaming so many curse words that I'm sure I would have broken some sort of record.

"You're an asshole," I told him. "A complete motherfucking asshole." I reached behind me for the doorknob and yanked it open. I was done with this place. I was going to attempt to get out if it cost me my life.

To delay him by a couple seconds, I yanked the nearest chair and pushed it behind me so that he would have to move it to follow me.

I ran for my life, quite literally. I had no idea where to go – the hallways of this place were an impossible maze. I could only hope and pray that I was getting nearer to an exit with every second.

The corridors were empty. No one was about, not even maids or staff. No one would be able to help me.

His pounding footsteps grew louder behind me, spurring me on to run faster. I threw myself through doors, down halls, searching for some sort of natural light or someplace to hide. I prayed to all the deities in heaven that he wouldn't catch me, because I knew, that this time, I wouldn't be able to work out an agreement with him. He would just lock me up or tie me down.

The footsteps got closer and closer. My lungs were burning, pushing me to give up, but I couldn't.

I was yanked backwards into the confines of his arms.

"I told you not to try it again," he said, his voice shaking with anger. His arms were painful around me, cutting of my ability to breathe. Without another word, he threw me over his shoulder and began striding back to his room.

I didn't even bother to scream. Who would've heard me? I just let myself enjoy the last pain-free moments, because there was no doubt that I would be hurt sometime soon.

I was set down rather roughly, sending a shot of pain into one of my ankles. I tried to put as much distance as possible between me and angry Edward, but he wasn't having that.

For the second time that day, I found myself pushed up against a wall. I tried to struggle, but he pinned my arms to the wall above me.

"You shouldn't've tried to run," he snarled. "You're just making it worse."

I tried to move my legs to kick him or something, but he pushed his hand into my stomach, knocking all the air out of me.

I whimpered.

"I'm really considering going back on that promise not to hurt you," he growled.

"Get the fuck off of me," I said, trying to sound intimidating, but it only came out as weak.

He chuckled darkly. "I don't think so. You brought this on yourself – you tried to run."

"You attacked me," I said through clenched teeth. "I'm sure that constitutes some sort of retaliation."

"I'd hate to hurt you…" he trailed off dangerously, his hand releasing my waist and reaching up to my face. "You can't run away like that."

I didn't even answer him. I was too busy trying to ignore the pain coming from my left ankle. I was pretty sure I'd sprained it.

"I just did," I growled. "What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

Edward looked down at me with an infinitely dangerous look on his face. Before I could even think about punching him, he had slammed his mouth down on mine once more.

My shrieks were muffled to the point where even I couldn't hear them anymore. It was of no use, trying to get him off of me, because my hands were pinned above me, and my legs might as well have been rendered useless. In addition to having his hands trap mine, his hips were pushing into mine so hard that if I'd decided to lose the use of my legs, his weight alone would hold me up.

So I surrendered. I didn't fight back, didn't move. I shut myself down, just as I had when he had abducted me.

He seemed to be sensing my resistance, because he pressed the advantage and poked his tongue between my lips.

Passive-aggressive time, I thought. I bit down on his lip, hard.

"Ow!" he roared, yanking his mouth from mine. "What the hell?"
I just looked at him. I felt like doing some sort of victory dance, but given that I couldn't exactly move, that was out of the question.
"You just bit me!"

I just kept looking at him, and as I did, I realized something. Gone was the nice young man that had agreed to respect my personal space, and replacing him was the asshole of a soldier that had dragged me away from the refugee home.

And Mute Bella was back.

That was who I would be, now. I wouldn't talk, wouldn't respond to him, wouldn't fight – I would be a rag doll, as far as he could tell.

"Oh, so you're not going to talk, are you?" he said aggressively.

No answer.

Edward sighed. "Fine. I guess I can put your mouth to more useful things, then."

I quite literally had to clap my hand over my own mouth to keep from screaming expletives at him.

He let go of my wrists and let them fall back to my side. I winced a little bit, because they had started hurting again.

Fortunately, he stepped a little bit away, so that he was no longer holding me against the wall.

"I don't trust you enough to leave you alone," he said.

I didn't even look at him. Instead, taking him by surprise, I pushed him away from me, flounced over to the couch that I'd curled up on recently, and flopped down on it.

He followed me to where I was sitting, but didn't sit on the same sofa. For that, I was grateful.

"You realize, that, by running, you just made things infinitely worse, right?" Edward stated.

I let his words slide past me, instead focusing on the features of his face. With all the energy spent not talking and not looking and fighting him off, I hadn't really gotten a good look at him.

To compare him to one of Michelangelo's carvings would be a gross understatement. He had the features of an angel. High, narrow, cheekbones, royal and regal, led to rounded cheeks and full lips. His jawline was so defined it could have been used as a weapon. And then his eyes…oh god, they were like the trees of a welcoming forest; the cool, lush, green, inviting the wanderer to take a small stroll and lose herself in the depths of nature. Without his army cap on, his hair looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. I hadn't noticed, but it wasn't brown, like I'd originally thought. It was a darker shade of red, so dark that it almost looked brown. With the light shining, it was a sparkling bronze.

If I didn't already hate him so much, I might be attracted to him.

You are attracted to him, remember? You liked what you saw when he was shirtless.

I pushed my inner annoyingness away. I refused to think like that.

"Have you gone mute again?" Edward asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking what he guessed.

He sighed. "I guess you have gone mute. And it's my fault, isn't it?"

I looked at him impassively. I was sure that the expression on my face was like so many of those at the refugee camp.

So empty, so lost.

Always searching, never found.

Now that would become my life.

His hand twitched minutely, and the small movement caught my eye. It was like I was tuned to every small movement that he made – watching out for when he would grab me next.

Edward sighed again. "So what am I supposed to do now? Endure the mute version of you?"

"Take me home."

My guess was right; Edward did a double take at hearing me speak. He didn't think I was going to talk for a long time.

"But…but you don't have a home," he protested. "You're a war refugee."

I didn't even look at him. Instead, my eyes fell again to the bed in the center of the room; a stark reminder of where – and who – I'd have to sleep near tonight.

He saw me looking, and smirked. "You know you're going to have to sleep there," he taunted me. "And you know I'm sleeping there too."

My eyes still refused to sway in his direction. If he wanted to be arrogant about it and attempt to force me, that was spectacular.

Look at all the fucks I don't give, I thought at him. I just wished I could have said it out loud.

I wondered what time it was – and how long it would be until the nighttime torture started.

Seven o'clock. Not long. Not long at all.

I didn't want to be in the same bed as him. Not after seeing him half naked. Not after he forced his mouth on mine.

What if he did it again? What if he tried something more? I was essentially powerless here. I couldn't stop him.

I felt the helplessness wash over me, coating me in a deep thicket of despair. I was drowning, and I couldn't do anything about it.

I had to resign myself to whatever would happen. Nothing could help me now – I couldn't scream for help, I'd already tried running, and appealing to the soldier's nice side obviously didn't get me anywhere.

I was all out of options.

Time to face the fucking music, I thought wryly.

A/N: Hi. I probably will never post another AN on this story again, but I need to apologize. This chapter's tone is a little bit swingy. I was experimenting, and this is how it ended up. I promise you, it will never happen again.

In other news, go read Green Eyes! I love you all :)

Also, I've created a Twitter account for this story: ariapyrasyria. Follow me if you want to know when I'll update and such!