4. "Bearing the burden of a secret storm, Sometimes she wishes she was never born." 'Concrete Angel' by Martina McBride.
A/N: I'm really sorry I haven't written for a while, I did promise I'd update weekly and that reviews would get sneak peeks. I'm trying to get on top of that so sorry...the reason for no sneak peeks was the same as why there were no updates...I hadn't written anything. So sorry if the next few chapters are shorter (I'm halving the word limit) but I'm going to try and update fortnightly (or sooner) depending on when I write the chapters.
Also there's no swearing or overly coarse language in my story which may not be realistic but keeps the rating down.
And finally, for those friends of mine who tracked me down and I BEGGED not to read this. One final request; please stop reading now. :)
"You'd never guess a girl so happy on the outside, is breaking down on the inside. A girl who laughs her head off every day in school, you'd never guess she's covering up, the million tears behind her smile."
I wake up groggy and confused. I'm lying on a hard surface and my body aches. I stretch slightly, testing my body and wince. Pain fills my muscles. Not just from what was apparently a night on the floor; judging from the light streaming in the window, but also from the injuries that were not just inflicted by Phil. I let myself remember last night. Was it a mistake? I don't feel that bad about it? I regret it slightly but it felt...good. I needed it.
I sit up slowly, waiting for the dizziness that often accompanies the morning after but it clears quickly. My back is stiff and uncomfortable and my legs are a little numb where I've been lying awkwardly on the floor. I probably looks a mess. My hair is almost certainly all knotted and mussed up.
Leaning again the door I pull up the hem of my shirt which, thankfully hasn't stuck to the main wound. I'm grateful for small mercies. I pull it up slowly, pausing every now and then to gently pull it away from one of the minor cuts it's stuck to, which were still bleeding when I passed out or fell asleep. The mild burning sensation that quickly fades as I pull the shirt away from each cut.
The angry red lines don't look too bad in the morning's light, already beginning to heal slightly, a scab forming over each of them. Blood is oozing out a little from under the scabs that were broken when I pulled off my shirt. The deep wound just bellow my belly button is red and swollen. It seems to be leaking and hurts a lot.
I slowly peel off the steri-strips I covered it with last night and inspect the wound. It's only a few centimetres wide, not very bad, but I can tell its deep by the way it opens up again when I press the skin around the cut or move. It hurts more than anything and this greeny-yellowy liquid oozes out from it. It looks a little infected.
I ease myself up off the ground, using the sink to pull me up and open the medicine cabinet. It's a good thing I keep it well stocked, practically my own little pharmacy, or i could be in real trouble at a time like this.
I search around for the Detol antiseptic liquid. I quickly find the bottle and turn it over to read the instructions on the back. Dilute with water. Ignoring the instructions I quickly unscrew the lid and grab a wad of toilet paper. This is gonna hurt. I sit back down on the floor and close my eyes and take in a deep breath to calm myself. Tilting the bottle I begin to pour the liquid over my stomach. It takes every inch of my willpower not to flinch away or scream. All my muscles are tensed. I concentrate on breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. The pain recedes slightly. The next bit is going to hurt just as bad.
Taking the toilet paper I begin to press down at the area surrounding the stab wound. It hasn't healed properly because it breaks open every time I move so I don't have to worry about cleaning the wound. Brushing around the edge of the wound, sweeping into the middle, I squeeze the pus out through the opening. Pus? Wiping away the green pus I pour more Detol onto my stomach. I repeat this until I'm finally satisfied it's at least clean and dry. Clearer and dry. I really should be seeing a doctor about this. I go to the cupboard and grab one of the extra large plasters and stick it over the wound. Hopefully it won't leak out through my t-shirt at school. What would people think? What would Edward think?
I go and stand in front of the mirror. I was right earlier, I do look a mess. My hair is all tangled and my eyes look a little red. While Phil's injuries are healing the self-inflicted injuries look terrible. I look a mess, my stomach is a criss-crossed and the giant plaster on my stomach doesn't hide my injury.
I check the time on my watch. I have ten minutes before I need to leave for school or else I'll be late and I'm sure I'll really regret that if Phil finds out. I take a minute to wonder where he is. He obviously hasn't tried to use the bathroom so he's probably crashed out at one of his friend's place. Or a girl's. Panic flares through me like a wave and quickly fades. I can't be late, I have to get ready. There's no time for a shower so I run a brush through my hair, hurriedly apply my concealor and foundation, and change into a fresh, unstained t-shirt before grabbing my bag and making a run for the door.
I notice Phil's car in the driveway. If he hasn't left yet he's going to be late, for sure. I don't really want to deal with him is someone comments on his lateness. I could ring his mobile, very risky as he'll definitely blame me. He's late anyway so he'll blame me regardless, no point in worrying about it now. I get into my car and drive to school.
A/N: This isn't proper first aid, if you find yourself in this situation, and I really hope you don't, the best thing is to go to your doctor's or A&E and lie your way out as clumsy. A doctor can only stitch you back up unless you say anything (and I strongly advise you do).
"How could they act like everything is alright? She's pulling down her long sleeves, To cover all the memories that scars leave." 'When She Cries' by Britt Nicole.
I get to school just in time to see Edward waiting for me on the steps. My own personal stalker. Doesn't he have better things to do than rush around terrorising me? He doesn't know anything, he doesn't know what you did last night, there's no way he can tell, he can't exactly see through your shirt. Swallowing my fear I finally remind myself that he is not Phil and that he won't hurt me...this time.
Taking in a deep breath I grab my bag and step out of the car. I walk towards the front steps, deliberately not going to meet him. Defying his over-protectiveness by glaring at his as I walk so that he doesn't mistake our little chats for friendship. I stop walking when I reach him, coming to stand next to him, but I don't drop my confrontational attitude. I cut straight to the heart of it, no polite conversation for us.
"What do you want?" I ask him aggressively. After everything he's done to me he's doesn't really deserve my politeness.
"Alice is worried about you." He replies quietly, his voice lacking any trace of emotion.
"Alice should mind her own." I say. "What do you want?" If Alice has a problem with me she should come to me herself.
"I want to help you." He says. This guy has way too much angst.
"I don't need help from you or anyone else." I tell him.
He sniffs the air suddenly as if catching the scent of something that's leaving only a trace in the fresh air. He looks down at my stomach and his eyes narrow. My heart skips a beat. He can't know, can he? I covered it up with a plaster and you can't make it out beneath my loose t-shirt. I decide I don't really want to find out whether he knows or not.
I turn to leave but he pulls me back and I flinch away instinctively. Recognising his mistake he pulls his hand away and drops it to his side. He looks so guilty. I want to tell him I only flinched on instinct but I don't owe him anything.
"I'm really sorry you know. About yesterday...I...I'm not normally like that." He winces.
"I know Edward." I say. I can't say anything else.
He looks up, staring into my eyes as if searching my soul. Finally he blinks and looks away, back down at my stomach. I can feel my cheeks burning guiltily. He looks back up at my eyes and I know, he knows. He reaches out a hand and places it under my shirt, against my stomach on top of the plaster. I'm stuck by just how cold his hand it. His circulation is so bad it's almost as if there's no blood in his hand at all. The coolness from his hand eases the pain and burning in my stomach. It feels good. I could stay like this forever.
Finally he breaks the silence.
"Alice asked me to tell you to stop. She says it hurts her too." He tells me.
I look down at the floor guiltily. I'm not going to stop. I don't owe Alice Cullen anything. "Don't let him hurt you anymore than he already does." He says knowingly as people rush past us. I pull away from him, tugging at the sleeves of my shirt to make sure they cover my wrists. My whole body is covered from shoulder to toe, nothing exposed to see the bruises or cuts. Only in Forks could I get away with this, in any other part of the country it would be weird to cover myself up so much. Especially in the summer.
He walks me to registration in silence, pausing outside the door to my classroom.
"Promise you'll try to stop." He says. I don't say anything back. I won't lie to him. I don't want to stop. I know I'm already getting too far out of my depth and that if anything like last night happened again it could kill me but I don't want to. It makes me feel...calm.
I go into the classroom and find Jessica sitting with Lauren, heads titled close to each other as the whisper, gossiping about some freshman who was caught yesterday, puking in the bathroom. For a second I wonder if it's Alice they caught, if that's her secret. My panic quickly fades when I remember Alice isn't a freshman. I shouldn't care about Alice Cullen; she's no one to me. I listen as Jessica drones on and on about the poor girl they found and wonder what she would say about me if she knew. I bet she'd be just as gossipy about me as she is about everyone else. No loyalty, no friendship. That's one thing with Jessica, she's your friend for only so long, once she's bored or whatever she'll stab you in the back as quick as the next person.
I look up at the clock and watch as I ticks slowly. I can't wait to be free of this town, to be free of everything, everyone. I can't wait to be free of Phil, to go to a university far, far away from here. It's only a few more months, as long as I get the grades for my scholarship I can be free from Phil. With the money my mother left me everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.
"I close my eyes when I get too sad, I think thoughts that I know are bad." 'Wonderful' by Everclear.
As I drive home I wonder if Phil will still be out. He wasn't home last night and he wasn't home this morning when I left. I doubt he's still gone, but a part of me is wishfully hoping.
His car is in the driveway but it was before because one of his friends picked him up to drive him into Port Angeles. As I open the front door the atmosphere instantly shifts and I know he's home.
I close the door and immediately he stumbles into the hallway.
"I missed work today you ugly bitch." He yells.
I lurch back to avoid him but he's there, in my face.
"I'm going to teach you a lesson once and for all."
I recognise the smell of alcohol on his breath, he absolutely reeks of it.
He lurches past me and heads for the stairs. I'm confused why he's not hurting me. What is he planning on doing? Where's is he going? I follow him up the stairs as he stumbles into my bedroom; I follow behind him afraid and confused.
He stumbles over to my bookshelves and begins sweeping them of the shelves. I run to stop him but he swings round and aims a clumsy punch at my heads, grazing it and knocking me to the floor. I watch in horror as he picks up my books and begins ripping pages from them. I try to stop him but he knocks me back to the floor.
"Please..." I beg him, "I need those. They're for school."
"School." He laughs. "A stupid little bitch like you's never gonna do well at school."
"Please." I beg him.
He turns away from the books momentarily confused. He stumbles slightly before regaining his senses.
"I told ya to shut up." He says as he lurches towards me. I can't say anything, I can't defend myself. He aims a vicious kick at my side before stumbling out of the room. I can hear him banging into things as he lurches into his bedroom. Crashing onto the bed and most likely passing out.
I pull myself up and go lock the door. Just in case. I strip sit on the edge of the bed and pull up my shirt until I can see the plaster covering my earlier cut. I pull open the drawer beside my bed and pull out the kitchen knife I hid. Running my fingers along my stomach I search for somewhere to cut. I know there are major arteries and that hitting one of them will kill me rather rapidly. I stare at my stomach and plunge the knife into the soft tissue on my right side, just under my rib cage.
Immediately I know something is wrong. A weird sensation goes through me and I know, I know, that I've hit something. Oh god. I'm going to die. I reach blindly for something to stem the blood, grabbing my shirt from yesterday and holding against my side. I grab my phone and keys, dizzy from the pain.
I stumble to the car and push the keys into the ignition. I'm too weak to drive and even I know I wouldn't be a good idea. I can't go to the hospital. I flip open my phone and ring Alice. Thank god she programmed in her number.
"Alice," I pant. "I've done something stupid. Can you please come take me to your dad? I'm in my driveway." I hang up the phone and close my eyes. And lean my head back against the headrest. This is it. I'm going to die.
A/N: She didn't hit THE major artery in her leg (or she'd have bled out fairly quickly) but she did hit something fairly important, hence the need for a doctor. Look up a diagram of the circulatory system and you'll see what I mean.
"She doesn't look, she doesn't see, Opens up for nobody, Figures out, she figures out. Narrow line, she can't decide; Everything short of suicide, Never hurts, nearly works." 'Little House' by The Fray.
I'm awoken by a cold hand against my forehead. It feels good against my burning skin. Why is it so hot?
"Carlisle she's burning up." Edward? Why is Edward in my car? Why are they here? I try to open my eyes but they're so, so heavy. I can't move. I'm so tired.
"You're going to have to carry her Edward and be quick; she's too delirious to remember anything." Carlisle? I recognise his calm, soothing voice. Oh no, I can't let Carlisle see me.
Suddenly and urge to be sick overwhelms me as Edward lifts me into his arms and it's as if, almost were flying. I can feel the wind rushing past me and begin to wonder if I hit my head. After almost no time at all I'm being laid down on a cool, hard surface,
"Edward, I can fix her here but there may be things we need to explain to her." Dr Cullen's voice. Where's Alice? I wanted Alice. Alice always makes me feel better, why isn't she here. I try to turn my head and open my eyes but I can't everything hurts, everything feels too heavy. The pain is incredible.
"Just fix her Carlisle." Commands Edward.
He lifts the shirt gently away from my most recent wound and a wave of nausea sweep through me. I'm going to be sick. I can't let him see me like this; I can't let him see what I did. Oh no, what if they lock me up or something? Phil would kill me. I have to go. It hurts so much.
"Bella, can you hear me." I whimper slightly but form no words. "I'm going to give you something for the pain, it's going to make you a little sleepy but when you wake up everything will be better.
***
When I wake up I'm lying on something soft with a blanket thrown over me. I open my eyes to get my bearings. I'm lying on a black sofa in what must be the living room. There's a giant television hung on the wall. I'm dressed in an oversized shirt. Someone must have changed me. Pulling it up I find a white dressing covering my side. There's a matching one on the cut below my belly button.
"You're awake." I turn my head, stopping as the pain spikes through my side. "Shush don't move." He says. "Carlisle said you had to rest."
I turn slightly, slower this time, to face him. His face is filled with utter pain and anguish. I've caused him this pain. Guilt washes over me.
"Edward?" I whisper. He sits down on the floor beside me. "I'm so sorry for screwing everything up."
"So you should be." He says, but there's no anger in his voice. "You scared the crap out of Alice." I let out a sob, overcome by emotion. "Don't cry." He says. He strokes me head lightly, just like my mother used to, when she was still alive.
"I always mess everything up." I sob. The pain spikes through me as the sobs rack my body but I can't stop crying. Edward senses my distress and tries to calm me down.
"Shush," He says soothingly. "Carlisle sewed you back up. He gave you some antibiotics too."
I stop crying a little and pull my hand up to wipe my eyes.
"How long have I been out?" I ask. I'm almost afraid to. If I've been out a long time Phil will be mad.
"Two days. You were in and out yesterday but not very coherent. Carlisle's tried to keep you pretty sedated because of the cut."
"Oh." I whisper.
"What happened?" He asks me gently, the way a mother would a small child, no anger just reassurance, trust, in his voice.
"Nothing. Nothing ever happens." I tell him.
"You can't honestly expect me to believe you're just clumsy." He says angrily. He pulls away from me slightly.
"Believe what you like." I say bitterly. I can't be dealing with this now.
He pulls away from me completly and stalks out of the room, and like that I'm alone. I let out a sob. What have I done? Why must I screw everything up all the time?