A/N Hope you all had happy holidays!
I know...a month. :-/ I'll try not to let it be this late. I loose connection reading other ff's when this happens too. I get it. Had a Birthday and I'm officially scurrying to get life goals done before the big three zero next year. I'm like this O.O Is there a remedy?
I'm posting now (as opposed to at night) because I woke up this morning and decided I should probably give going to work a go. Standing under the pouring snow, cold and wet from a truck splashing dirty slush on my face passing by, I asked myself: whytf? I walked back home bawling, as I saw the bus I was waiting for for an hour pass me by. Sigh. Not my day. Maybe this will make yours. *crossing fingers* Thanks.
I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.
|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...with a double loop.
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* Sound: Imogen Heap-The Moment I Said It.
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Chapter 3 – Betrayal
BANG! BANG! BANG!
My hand hurts but I won't stop. The frenzy and shock still flowing though my body is the only thing keeping me standing. My mind still sees the flames and echoes the sounds of the loud pops. Besides the ache in my hand, I can't feel anything. I'm blinded by the movie scene I left behind.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
I focused on a wood grain in front of me. The curved lines going up above the reach of my vision. Gold, brown, beige, oak illuminated in an orange glow from the porch light that flickered on when I ran up the cement steps.
I whimper and my knees buckle slightly. I lean against the grains to keep me from giving up. My tears have soaked down my jacket and shirt. My aching hand reflects light. It's the moisture from wiping away the tears. Tears that blinded me and made me trip and fall on the grass by the driveway.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Ange," I manage to muster. A sob tightens my chest again.
Nothing. I can't hear any sounds coming from inside.
Without thinking I made turns and turns until I led myself here. I didn't know where else to go. And she's not here.
I let my legs buckle until I'm sliding to the ground. I try breathing steady, controlling my hysteria. The only thing I hear is night creatures singing their song at the cold wind. They go about their existence while mine has whirled into a nightmare. No one is here.
I'm hugging my knees tightly and lean my head on the door to Angela's apartment. I should've known she wouldn't be here yet. But my mind is full of with visions of flames and Jake's face.
What happened?
The porch light goes out, indicating my long unexpected stay. I don't know how long I've been sitting here but I'm beginning to freeze. Clouds puff out of my mouth as my heart races. I look around me frantically one more time before slouching against the door again. I'll wait—as long as it takes.
In a couple of hours, I've become a person who's too terrified to even move away from a door sill, much less run to her car and find her phone. My heart had dropped when I realized I had left it behind. A headache is starting up, shooting sharply over my eyes. I close them, feeling them heavy for just a second. I snap them open again, scanning my surroundings. Nothing. My heart eases slightly.
Minutes or hours have passed. I can't tell which. I've stayed in the dark where no one can find me, in case somebody is following me. If they're still alive. My mind runs the whole scene over and over again in detail. I can still feel the heat from the flames. I can still feel Jake's warm skin.
Why did he do this? I'm shamed at even letting him near me. I squirm at the memory of his touch and I fist my hand over my mouth. I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself down as my eyes drift closed. I need to sleep. The pounding in my head is so bad. Hours and hours…and no one is here. I'll wait as long as it takes.
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Cold fingers wrap around my arm. I gasp and my eyes snap open. I sit up and scream, swinging my arms around in defense. 15 is my new record to add to my recurring dream. The shadow has a face now —Jake's. I focus on nothing and scream, hoping my fist will collide with his face.
"BELLA! Bella, calm down!" Cold fingers shake my shoulders.
I focus on the voice and cut my eyes to Angela. She's here. I'm not alone. I stop fighting her. My eyes are dry but aching to fill up with tears again.
"What's wrong, hunny?" She sounds scared. As sob chokes me as I wrap my arms around her neck, crying on her shoulder. "Shhh, it's ok," she coos as I feel her arms rubbing my back. We stay like this for a moment. I can't speak and I'm grateful she just hugs back.
"How did you get in here? You scared me when I found you," she asks, pushing me away from my death grip to look into my face. I finally focus on my surroundings wondering where she found me. I furrow my eyebrows. I'm in her living room, laying on her couch—intact. How did I get in here?
"Did you find the key I stashed in the porch light fixture?" She sighs, looking at my expression in worry.
"I…I don't…" I answer in a whimper looking back at her. My voice is intensely horsed. Evidence that last night wasn't a dream. "Oh my god, Ange. Oh my god."
"You're scaring me," she says wrapping her hands around my wrists to steady me.
I breathe deeply trying to steady my heart. "You wouldn't believe…you wouldn't believe what happened." I shake my head. "I'm so scared."
She stands from kneeling on the floor in front of me and pulls my legs off the couch to sit beside me. I feel her wrap her arms around me. "Tell me. What happened? You're scaring me! I find you here asleep. I don't understand."
"Jake grabbed me and tried pushing me into a van," I scrabble to say.
"Who's Jake?" she asks. Her eyes widen.
"I heard shots and the van exploded. Jake held me down to take me," I say bringing my fingers to my mouth, fidgeting from the nerves. I continue rambling details I remember.
"Slow down. What are you talking about?" she asks pulling away from me and grabbing my shoulders again.
I sigh heavily and take big gulps of air to try and calm down. "Ok, ok," I say in assurance. For myself more than for her.
"I never told you about Jake," I say turning to look into her eyes. "Angela, I'm so stupid." I pause. A sob escapes my throat.
"Breathe. I need for you to calm down, so you can talk to me," she says. I'm hiccupping. "Let me go get some water." She stands to leave and I grab her arm instinctively, not wanting to be alone. "It's ok, I'll be back in a second," she assures me while pushing my arms back down. She furrows her eyebrows when she sees my desperation. I nod and settle my arms on my lap.
She comes back with a glass of water and a damp washcloth. She hands me two pills after dropping the cloth on her lap as she sits again. "Here, take these. It'll help you calm down." I'm still crying. My chest hurts from convulsing so much. I swallow the pills with effort, feeling my throat closed up.
"Ok, now you're going to talk to me…from the beginning," she says firmly and determined. She brings the warm cloth to my face and wipes away my tears. I close my eyes feel relief and calm surging. The ache is soothing a bit. I sigh.
I begin telling her how I know Jake. How he found me again after many years, showing up at my doorstep. She sits back listening intently, as she occasionally rubs my arms when I can't help but pause and cry again. Then anger takes over as I remember when he was kind and protective and how he was acting completely opposite last night. I told her he was my first love. That he came back and it was as if we never parted. But it was intense. It was like I was meeting a stranger but I knew his face, his touch, his voice. He was mysterious yet, I knew his past. I gravitated to him. I skipped the part when he approached me at the parking lot. I'm too ashamed, too angry to tell her. But when I explained how he snapped and grabbed me, she looked shaken.
"Why did he do it?" I felt as though I was reliving it. My hands started to shake. "He was forcing me into a van with the same crest Mike and I found on that car in the harbor. It has to mean something, Ange. Has to."
"How did you get away?" she asked after a long pause.
"Some gun shots…I don't know." A sob constricts my chest as I remember the fear at that moment. "I heard shots and it blew up the van and sent us flying through the air. I got away because Jake was out and I didn't see anyone." I finish, looking at her horrified expression.
"Oh my God, Bella. You have to call the cops! Why didn't you call the police?!"
"I don't…." I trail off with my hand over my mouth. I continue to sob loudly and rock myself on the couch.
I faintly hear Angela freaking out as she rambles on to herself. She's aimlessly pacing her living room and looking for something. She looks determined as she reaches for her phone cradled on her side table.
"No! You can't tell anyone!" A pang of horror is hitting me. In a flash I leap across the couch and grab her wrist.
"You can't! I don't think this is something the cops can fix. Please," I plead.
"Bella! This is insane. How can you not do something? They were going to take you!"
I nod. "Don't you think I know that?! There's something really off about this. It's Jake, Angela. It wasn't a stranger or… or… a criminal on the loose or something. It was Jake. I know Jake," I say looking in her eyes. "Why would he do this? Why would he hurt me like this?" She's stares and sighs in defeat. She knows I'm right.
"You have to do something, Bella. You can't just sit here," she pleads in a whisper. I slouch down on the couch again and stare off in a daze. I don't know what to do. I have a deep feeling this is major and just the thought sends shivers of fear through my body. The same feeling I get when I wake up from my nightmares. I inhale deeply and look up at Angela. "I'll talk to Charlie. He'll know what to do. He has to."
"Ok." She nods settling the phone back in the cradle. "Ok," she says, assuring herself too. She's staring around her living room in a daze, looking as scared as I imagine I must look. She freezes after a second and bolts to the door, opening it and disappearing outside. I hear her rummaging through something and she quickly appears at the door again with a key in her palm. The metal catching a beam of sun making it gleam. Her eyes cut to mine in confusion. "Bella, you never answered my question." She walks across the threshold. Her dark glasses suddenly making her eyes look darker and haunted. "How did you get in?"
A cold breeze passes by her making her shirt and hair ruffle. My skin prickles…but not because of the cold. I begin shaking my head slightly. "I don't know."
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I hear a bing on my pone. I've got a new voicemail. My ears have only been filled with sounds or electronics for the past 2 weeks. Nothing but the sounds of my phone, a murmuring TV and my breathing. Silence.
Since I woke up in Angela's couch, I haven't set a foot outside of that door. I can't sleep, eat or focus long enough to tell the difference between lying down or standing in front of the bathroom mirror staring at my reflection. I will never leave this place. Here, where the comforter with 275 stripes in 3 patterned shades of orange shields my face. My cocoon. My safety blanket.
I haven't been to work or spoken to anyone except Angela. Part of me feels guilty for only responding with 'yes' or 'no' answers to her questions. I don't know how a duffle bag appeared beside the bed with my clothes in it. I haven't touched it. No need to. I'm not ready yet. I stopped listening to voicemails from Mike, Harry or even Charlie. I can't find it in me to stop replaying the nightmare that happened with Jake.
Jake. The name brings up bile up my throat, making my taste buds burn. Dry heaving is all it takes for another headache to erupt.
I've become a fearful, weak, pale being with no intentions of facing the exit to this room to find answers or justice. I'm too afraid to face the demons scratching at the door, tormenting me day and night. I won't leave. I can't find the strength.
Shadows turn into faces and sunlight into irritation. The urge to crawl under the bed is contrary to a child's fear of monsters under it, waiting to take them away. I want to cower deep, where the monsters won't find me. But Angela doesn't let me. I wake up screaming and she's there—pulling me away from the repetitive nightmares. I've lost count after 21.
The first week, a doctor came to see me. I can't remember his name. I faintly remember Angela's confused expression when she let him in. He said Harry had sent him over. Since when do doctors make house visits? I'm not sure. But Harry had been worried. So much so, he sent him to check up on me. He gave me sedative shots to calm my nerves. He smiled warmly and the scar on his cheek wrinkled. I don't remember much but being a mess. I couldn't stop shaking for hours with sweat soaking through my clothes. I went into complete shock.
The sedatives sent me into a blackened dream. I don't remember anything past that. When I awoke everything came rushing back and Angela quickly gave me pills prescribed to me. They helped keep the hysteria from escalating.
Harry only knew what Angela told him. He knew I was seriously sick and needed time away from work. He didn't ask further questions knowing Charlie would fix things. He doesn't know I haven't spoken to him. Charlie will flip out. I need time to gain the guts to tell him.
I don't know what his reaction will be. He loved Jake. How will he react when I tell him his best friend's son tried to kidnap me? I just don't know.
I hear movement from outside of the room and I sit up quickly, tensing up. On its own accord, my hand slips under my pillow and grips the knife I keep there. I hear Angela's quick call from the front of the house and I instantly ease my muscles. She does so to assure me it's her. I breathe and let go, lying back down on my pillow. She doesn't know the biggest knife she owns is missing from her kitchen drawer.
Within seconds I hear her soft knock on my door. I don't know why she knocks when it's her apartment. It guilts me even more.
"Bella," she calls after opening the door a slit. "You ok?"
"Yeah." I stir as a show that she has my full attention. She walks in and sits on the bed beside me.
"Did you take your pill?" She brushes a hand over my forehead and hair that hasn't seen a shower in days. I nod.
"Good. Are you hungry? I bought pasta and Alfredo sauce—your favorite. Do you want some?" she asks with lines furrowing her forehead. Since I've met her, I have never seen those lines permanently etched on her until now. I shrug.
She sighs and smiles a bit. She stands up and walks towards the door again where she stops. I know it's coming.
"Bella, you have to talk to Charlie. This can't go on like this. I can hardly go out. I worry."
"I know. I will tomorrow," I respond surprising myself and her. I know she's right. I can't do this to her anymore. Those lines have to go away. Those lines are my only push to move. She nods and smiles again in relief.
"Good. Now, come on, sit in the kitchen with me," she asks fidgeting with her fingers. I always decline.
"Ok," is all I reply. But deep down I'm wondering how my legs will move to do so. She slips out with an excited skip to her step, as I have accepted her invitation.
I turn to look at the ceiling for a second wondering if I should leave the knife behind. There's more in the kitchen. With a heavy sigh I flip the comforter off of me and force my legs to move.
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My hand is on the door handle, slightly shaking. I'm staring at the house that hasn't changed since the day I moved out of it. I watch the leaves rustling on branches, shadowing windows and the front yard. He's home. It's Sunday and he usually reads the paper at the kitchen nook with coffee nearby. I can almost see the sunlight coming in through the kitchen window, setting a warm glow that sooths. I wish I was little again. Everything was simple then.
"I'll stay in the car, ok?" Angela breaks my thoughts and I nod. As promised, I am here fulfilling my visit with Charlie. To talk. How do I begin?
"Just start from the beginning, like you did with me. You'll be fine," she answers my question. She's grown very perceptive lately. She knows exactly what I'm thinking. I nod again and turn the handle.
I walk to the door and find myself staring at grains again and lift my hand to knock. It was my sanctuary once and now I have to ask permission to enter it. The door swings open and I look at familiar brown I begin to cry before I even step into the house.
His arms envelope me and I wonder why it took me so long. He always tears away all of my fears with one embrace.
Next thing I know I'm sitting at my old couch and staring down at ripples in a coffee mug. He always makes it too strong. But I'll need every help I can get.
I look up at his worried expression. He sits by me with his arm cradling my shoulder. He looks tired and the years of nonstop stressful work has begun to finally show on his sideburns and mustache. Grays mix in contrast with the black speckled hair. He still keeps a tan from long hours on the road. The hurt and loneliness when mom died still show in the slight crow's feet on his eyes. He's kept his appearance though. He still dresses in designer brands: suits, slacks and even shoes. He takes his job seriously. If no one knew his past, they would think him happy. But I know better. The blue cashmere he's wearing over a buttoned up shirt and black slacks is proof that he never takes a day off.
"Dad, Jake is in Chicago." I look up at his blank expression.
"He is?" he asks after a moment, almost hesitantly. I nod. "Is this about him?"
"Yes. Um…" I scramble for words, furrowing my brows. There's no easy way to say it. "Something's really wrong. He tried to kidnap me," I whisper. There's silence for what seems like hours. I snap my head to look at him. He laughs.
"Kidnap?" he asks after a moment, shaking his head. A smile lingering on his lips.
"Yes," I respond. My shoulders drop at his reaction. "He followed me to Wells Street gas station and tried to push me into a van." I'm looking at his eyes, waiting for the smile to wipe off his face.
"A van?" he asks and stares off behind me. "In Wells Street?"
"Yup, same place," I confirm sharply. I imagine he knows about it. Something like that wouldn't skip the news. He's the lieutenant and is aware of all movement in Chicago.
He clears his throat and shifts on the couch next to me. He looks uncomfortable. This isn't the reaction I was expecting.
"Bella, honey, what van in Wells street?" he asks looking into my eyes again.
"What do you mean? Didn't your guys call it in?" I ask.
He shakes his head confused. "We haven't gotten any reports from Wells."
"You couldn't have missed it, Dad. It was a burning van in the middle of the street," I say, raising my voice.
"We haven't seen anything, Bells," he answers, shaking his head. I stare at him in disbelief. He shrugs and spreads his palms, facing up in question. He grins, searching my eyes. "When did you see that?"
"Friday night, two weeks ago! Jake tried to kidnap me!" I yell. I feel my chest constricting and my heart beat picks up. How did he not know about the wreck?
"What are you talking about, Bella? Jake would never do that. Why would he want to kidnap you? That's absurd" he's looking at me as if I have two heads.
I'm seething. Something clicked in me and all the weight of the whole past 2 weeks comes up. I practically shouted the whole story to him. Midway through, I stand to pace, my tears flowing and soaking my shirt. He sits frozen, following me with his eyes.
"I don't know why he'd want to kidnap me. That's what I need to figure out!" I stand by the window. I'm staring out at the leaves still rustling, un-interrupted. "I'm scared."
"I don't know what to say. This is insane," he says. I snap my head towards him and glare.
"This is insane? Or I'm insane?" I ask narrowing my eyes.
"I wasn't saying that! I'm just saying…We never got any reports. I just don't get it. Bella, were you drinking that night? Is something wrong with you?" he asks.
Unbelievable. Every hope I was tightly holding on to is dissipating. I stand here staring at his confused expression and all the life in me has drained. I turn back to the window and see Angela sitting in the car. She's looking my way. I don't remember Angela ever mentioning seeing anything on the news. Was he right? Was I dreaming again? Was I really going insane?
But if I did dream it, why did I wake up in Angela's couch? Why did I have bruises from Jakes tight hold on me? Why did I feel his touch, the fear, the panic, crawling all over my body every second of the day. It had to be real.
I grab my coat off the couch. I need to get out. He grabs my wrist quickly to make me stay. "Let go of me," I snap, looking in his eyes. His eyes widen in shock and he let's go.
"I came here seeking your help. If you refuse to help me and sit there telling me I'm insane, I will walk away knowing you've lost my trust. I'll deal with this on my own. Just like I learned to deal with things without mom." I pause seeing his face grow pale. "What would she think right now?"
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I'm standing in a store, waiting for Angela to buy orange shoes she went gaga over at first glance. She insisted I come with her, taking advantage of my new found bravery. Yesterday was a disaster. Just thinking about my own father mocking me and understanding my problem with less interest than he does with his fucking floss, or god knows what, makes bile rise up my stomach. Why didn't he believe me? I ran out of the house never feeling so alone in my life. I want Renee. I want my mother.
My eyes well up instantly. I cried all last night but I'm fighting to hold them back now. I have to try hard not to upset Ange on her ground breaking day. That ground breaking is me, yet I feel like its burying me.
It doesn't stop me from looking over my shoulder: left, right…all angles for the unexpected. I jump and cower away from anyone wearing black or tall or…breathing. Everyone is dangerous. I screamed bloody death at one point when a man, the same build as Jake, bumped into me. Poor man felt horrible as he apologized and tugged on a 5 year old he was lugging behind.
It's no one's fault. Yet, everyone is at fault. I can only see his face.
I grip the knife in my coat pocket tightly as a group of people walk by in a rush. Angela sees my reluctance and grabs my arm.
"You ok?" she asks for the fiftieth time today.
"Can you just stop asking me, please? It's getting old," I snap. Her face falls in hurt and she looks away without responding.
I sigh. The only person who's been willing to deal with my drama with patience…with complete devotion. Angela. And I'm being a complete bitch to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't…" I pause, finding the words, rubbing my face. "You've been great. Thank you so much, Ange. If I wasn't so distracted with my damn problems I would see how perfect you have been. Please forgive me?"
"You're all I've got. Why wouldn't I?" she asks with a sheepish grin. And she's all I've got.
I nod and hug her. Some of the weight from these couple of weeks lifting a bit off of our shoulders. Not all of it, though. It still lingers over us as we sigh.
I look past her shoulder at the crowd moving quickly pass us. Past the racks, jewelry stands and blurred colors in motion, the crowd parts. A shiver runs up my spine. Darkened eyes look straight into mine.
I blink. The crowd shifts. They're gone.
I lift my chin off Angela's shoulder and straighten to look around me. Angela feels me go rigid and lets go. The crowd shift again to the far right. Different eyes.
I flinch as I feel my skin rip. My hand jammed in to my pocket, searching for my metal piece of courage. The sharp edge betrayed me and digs deeper into the coat's lining. I can't pull it away from strands of fabric that are now soaked in my fresh blood.
A whimper escapes my throat and my legs grow limp.
"They're here," I whisper to Angela. She starts pushing me farther down an aisle, into an ocean of clothes on racks. She knows now. I can tell from her shaking hands on my back. But she pushes on, never faltering in strength. I grab on to racks as we pass to keep from falling. Blood soaking fine fabrics, granting my touch a soft contrast.
A different pair of eyes finds mine. They're everywhere.
Pop after pop of gun fire terrifies the crowd. There are screams from every angle. Thundering sounds of feet hitting the floor frantic to find the nearest escape. Products fly off counters and shatter to the ground. People are falling, one on top of another. A stampede rams into Angela and sends her stumbling away from me. Her hand is yanked from my grasp. She screams my name.
I fall to the ground.
Adrenaline runs through my veins. I shift to my knees and crawl towards where Angela was taken from me. My instinct is to find her and protect her. This isn't about her. They want me.
They want me.
I stop. If they take me, they won't take her.
"Ok…ok." I assure myself. I'll spare her from this catastrophe. I have to endure this on my own. The dread and fear of knowing I might die on this dirty carpet. Somehow, somewhere, I had to find the courage to stay here…alone.
The shots are getting closer. Through the carpet I feel the crowd shifting direction. The herd is coming my way. They run me over me in blind panic. I'm trying to get out of their way to avoid being crushed. A sharp pain stabs my right rib. I scream and drop. My body is pressed to the ground. Courage is sliding deep into my flesh from inside my pocket. I scream in silence, my eyes wide, leaking thick tears.
Multiple boots shuffle in a battle several feet away from me. I can't see them. I can't run. I can't fight. I can only see black, as my eyes close as I drift away.
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A/N: 'heart' for your reviews. Let me know if this was a Yay, nay, or what the hay? I'll actually reply this time, I swear. Greatly appreciated. Keeps me going. Next chapter: 'The Meet', if you know what I mean. Sorry for the torture. Even my Beta was all wtf? Just had to do things a certain way. Thank you for reading…really.