Chapter 4. Self Hatred.

"Hatred is self punishment"

-Hosea Ballou

I knocked, again, for the fourth time on my brother's chamber door.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm coming," Emmett's groggy voice muttered from behind the wood, and I knew fine well that my brother was lying face down, sprawled over the bed and would not be out of it for some time yet.

"Emmett," I called out as best I could through gritted teeth, "I know fine well that you are neither out of bed nor ready to come anywhere, but those points are irrelevant, I merely wish to speak with Rosalie."

"What do you want with me, Edward?" Rosalie's voice snapped. I knew she would not be happy, Rosalie enjoyed sharing Emmett's bed, and would be loath to leave it, even for a moment, if she thought that staying there would lead to anything. Which in truth, no matter what Emmett had been drinking the night before, usually would happen.

"Just a quick word, I need your help with a... a delicate matter, Rosalie."

"What delicate matter?" she asked.

"How's Bella?" Emmett's voice entered the conversation before I had a chance to reply. A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of her name, so I erected my stance even taller, prouder. I would not give into these feelings, she would not make me weak. She would not make me fall for her anymore, I would not disgrace my family name by harbouring these feelings for her any longer. I would whip her harshly and she would hate me, despise me, and she'd run away. I would never see her again, and it would hurt, it would be agony, but in time I'd get over it until it was nothing but a dull ache in my heart that I would grow accustomed to. At least, I hoped I'd grow accustomed to it.

"She's fine. Rosalie, a word?"

"I don't know, I cannot be bothered moving."

"Rosalie, please." Although I said please, I was not really asking her anything, I was demanding.

"What is so important it need be discussed now?"

"Rosalie, it cannot wait!"

"What is it?"

"I don't wish to have the conversation through the door, either come out now or I'll come in there and drag you out," I snapped, losing patience. She may be about to be of some help to me, but I was above her, and I would have her remember that.

Her reply was smaller, quieter, though she still had bite in her voice, "Edward, I-"

Emmett cut across her, "Just go Rosalie, my head hurts and this constant shouting is not helping. Besides, the sooner you go the sooner you return."

I smiled. A difference between my sister in law and I was that, when angry, she shouted, I merely spoke. Well, until I truly lost my temper. But I had never truly felt anger to a degree that I felt the need to shout.

I heard them kiss and then a small silence before the door swung open.

"What?" she asked me, surliness dripping off her face, body language and speech.

"Good morning," I offered her, unsmiling.

"Morning," she snapped back.

"Do not use that tone with me."

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her face still sarky, but said nothing.

"Rosalie, I wish to know how you feel about the majority of people you meet."

"I am indifferent."

"That is not true."

"Why do you wish to know this?"

"I just do."

"I... I do not like the majority of people I meet."

"Why not?"

"I just do not, I cannot explain it Edward, I am just not a people person I suppose,"

"Rosalie, what do you feel about Bella?"

Her face took on a new look, the surliness was replaced by pure hatred, and her voice dripped with venom, "That rat needs to be beaten, she is a... a... I do not have the word for her but in the name of Aslan I despise that filthy Narnian creature. I..."

She trailed off, shaking her head, muttering to herself.

"How do you feel about them that call you a witch?"

"They should be burned alive," her voice was low, dangerous.

"How do you feel such hatred for so many people?"

"HAVE I NOT REASON TO?" she screamed at me, her outburst causing every limb in her body to shake.

This was good, this was the mind set I needed to be in, the one that she was in now.

"I did not say that, but I need to hate someone, Rosalie, and I am usually too indifferent to care about anyone enough to hate them." I needed not to add in that the reason I could not hate her was because I was already, within less than a day, in love with her. And I couldn't do it, I needed to hate her. But I had controlled myself. No one would believe I felt anything other than cold indifference for Bella.

"What is going on? And why are you carrying your riding crop?" she snapped.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, which I was sure was already hugely messy since I had done nothing with it since I got out of bed.

"I need to beat Bella," I said, quietly.

So quietly that she did not hear me, "What?" she asked me again.

"I need to beat Bella," I sighed, raising my voice so

"And?"

"Not a normal beating Rosalie, I need to give her the mother, no, the great great great grandmother of all beatings."

"Again – and?"

"I can't bring myself to do it."

She gaped at me, then laughed, "What exactly do you mean, you can't bring yourself to do it?"

This was what I had wanted, I reminded myself, I wanted her to goad me into it.

"She does not deserve the beating I need to give her, yet I need to give her it for my own personal reasons." It was half true, she deserved a beating for her actions and manner. But not a beating so harsh it would break her, make her run away.

She laughed again, disbelieving, "Edward, you and I both know that you have no problems handing out punishments that are not quite merited by the crimes committed. You always favour harsher punishments than necessary, so why with this... bitch... can you not?"

"Do my reasons matter?"

"I think they do."

"Rosalie, do not test my patience."

Test my patience Rosalie, go on, it's the one time I want you too so that I can take my anger at you out on someone else.

"Are you too weak Edward?" And there was a button right there, I could not stand to be called weak. A roaring started in my chest, but I said nothing.

"Are you weak, incapable of dealing with slaves? Can you not quite perform your dutiues?"

This was what I wanted, I had to keep reminding myself of it.

"What is it Edward, why?" she mocked me, "Is it her feminine charm, can you not resist her filthy slave beauty?"

Again, I said nothing, continuing just to stare at her.

"Can't even manage your own standards, Edward, what has the world come to?" her voice was cruel and biting, "Just yesterday you spanked Alice for saying that slaves are beautiful. What was it she said you said, 'No slave is beautiful'? Yes, I think that was it, Eddie. Can ickle Eddie not manage to beat his slave because he thinks she's too beautiful? Does he care for her feelings? Does she look too frail, too gentle for Edward to be able to carry out his own duties as a master? Is Edward too weak? Too pathetic?" She half sang the words at me, revelling in the mockage of me.

She seemed to have realised she could say what she wanted, usually by now I'd have whirled her round and landed a volley of furious, and none too gentle, smacks on her behind, but not today. No, though my hand was itching to do it, I was going to use this feeling to take it out on Bella. My anger was pulsing in my ears, I could feel it pounding through me.

She was still talking, still mocking me, when I cut across her, "Thank you Rosalie."

I spun on my heel and strode towards my room, the dresss, I needed that dress. I had been given it by Rosalie the last time I had a slave. It was a brown sack, it would make anyone look ugly, even the famous Rosalie Hale. And it would work for Bella too.

I threw the door open and marched to my drawers to pull out the offending garment, before crossing towards the corner in which she was still fast asleep.

Aslan, she was tiny, lying curled up, so innoce- No. I would not think that. I put my foot on her side and rolled her onto her stomach before raising the crop high in the air and bringing down on her thigh. She woke up with a small start but I paid no attention, I'd show Rosalie who was weak.

I brought the crop down again on her other thigh. The place where I had brought it down before was coming up in an angry red weal, but I did not care. Weak, unable to do my duty. I'd show her. I'd show her. I went into a frenzy, raining down stroke after stroke, covering from the tops of her thighs down to the backs of her knees in angry red welts, crossing over previous strokes. Rosalie would know I wasn't weak, I'd show her. I'd make her bleed. I would show her I did not care for anyone's feelings, no one's. I would show her I was not weak, not pathetic. And she was not too frail, too gentle for my crop. No, I'd show Rosalie. I'd show Bella. And she did not make a sound. I'd make her make a sound. I'd make her beg for mercy.

I did not know how long I went on for. I blacked out almost in what I was doing. It was only when I looked down, my chest heaving and my breathing laboured with the effort that I remembered what I was doing. She lay, motionless on her stomach, not moving. The backs of her thighs were... I was a monster. A silent tear fell down my face. I truly was a monster. I had never cried through feeling remorse. I had never cried since I was a child, and I never let my emotions overcome me enough to show them at all, never mind to cry. But this... this was not remorse this was... I loathed myself. Loathed everything that I was. I deserved to die. To die and be sent to an eternal life of pain, of hell.

The only good thing was that now she clearly would run away. I would lose the only thing I cared about, had ever truly cared about. What had I done? I didn't deserve her. I deserved to lose her, to torture myself every day for the rest of my life with her memory. I looked down at her. What had I done?

How had I lost control like that? I never lost control. Why did she make me lose control. Why was it that I could always control my temper with no difficulty until the resentment and anger and confusion and... and everything that I felt about her came into play? Why? What was it about her that caused me to lose control. I was known for my control. She was making me lose the person I'd convinced everyone, even myself that I was.

I could face the sight in front of me no longer. With some effort I steadied my voice. I wanted to say I was sorry, to beg her to forgive me. I wanted to take her in my arms, hold her, comfort her from the pain I knew she must be feeling but was not vocalising.

But none of that came out, because I did not want it to. She had made me cry, made me show emotion. But she would run now, and I would not let her see before she went how much it would hurt me. I would not show anyone, even this angel that I would never see again that my cold, indifferent facade had been broken through, I would never admit it. I would hold onto my pride till the end.

"You will put this on," I snapped, dropping the brown sack cloth on the floor next to her "And then you will stay in this corner until I return. I have no use for you during the day."

I recognised the same prideful nature in her that I had in myself. She would see the statement as a challenge. I had told her not to move, she would move. And if my beating had done what it was supposed to have done, she would not only move, but she would run.

She did not move, she just lay motionless. I looked down at her, trying to learn every inch of her back, I already had memorised her face. I would remember her always, although I knew that I would never see her again.

I turned and exited my room, slamming the door and then sitting down against it. Aslan, what had I done.

My riding crop was still in my hand.

I stood abruptly. I had lost Bella. I had lost her, because of myself and allowing Rosalie to goad me. Rosalie.

I strode back the way I had come to my own room, throwing Emmett and Rosalie's door open, not bothering to knock.

Rosalie stood in the middle of the room in her underdress, a slave I did not recognise removing items from her chests to dress her.

She did not look at me as I entered.

"Why Edward, you missed breakfast, I was discussing with Alice how you find Bella too beautiful to be able to beat her, discussing how pathetic I find that," she turned to look at me at this point and her face slowly changed from her usual self satisfied smirk to being afraid, "Edward wh-"

I cut her off by crossing the room and bringing the riding crop down on her back. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Usually being able to wipe the smirk off Rosalie's face would be something I was proud of, but right now I didn't care. I just wanted to hurt her. I just wanted to hurt her for what she had made me do to Bella, because I couldn't hurt myself, and she was the next best thing. Though I would hurt myself. I'd inflict so much self loathing on myself that I would never get over it, never forgive myself for it. And lack of self forgiveness, feeling an eternity of guilt, that was worse than any punishment anyone would give me. Any other punishment would have been a blessing, it would have been easier. And that was why I didn't deserve any other punishment.

"EDWARD!" she screamed in pain, her voice breaking.

"WITCH!" I roared at her, bringing it down a final time before dropping the crop at my side, "Witch." The second accusation was no more than a whisper.

She stared at me. She looked terrified. And confused. Rosalie had never heard me shout, never seen me show any kind of emotion. Not many had.

I turned, striding past Emmett on my way out who stood in his doorway, his jaw slack, his own face a mixture of confusion and wariness. He stood out of my way wordlessly.

I could not face whatever would be left of breakfast. I could not face sitting with my family, extended also to include Tanya and my aunt. Instead I walked out of my home, out of my gardens and into the grounds which we owned but did not use unless to ride. I walked until I came to my meadow. I had always gone here. After the gardens it was my favourite place. It was where I always went to think and be alone.

I needed to be alone. I was supposed to ride into town with my father and brothers to see Tanya and my aunt off, but I could not. I prayed no one would come looking for me, I couldn't face them. Couldn't face anything.

With any luck, Bella would run. Because I didn't deserve her. And she didn't deserve to have to put up with me. But I loved her. I barely knew her, but I loved her. I knew, instinctively, that she was it for me. That no one would ever make me feel as she did. I was to meet Isabella tomorrow. But there was no point. I would tell my father, there was no point. I would never again feel as I did for Bella. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to feel this way. And I had ruined it, thrown it away.

I hoped against hope that she would not run, because I needed her. But... But I didn't deserve her.

I didn't deserve anyone or anything. Not even Rosalie, it hadn't been her fault. But I had just needed someone to blame because I was too weak and pathetic to own up to my own mistakes and faults.

I wanted her to run. I wanted Bella to run.

It was the first time I had ever put someone else's feelings above my own. I was willing to lose her, to help her, to save her from the brute that I was.


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