Esme Cullen
I go to the adjoining living room, leaving Isabella and the tutor in the dining room alone. The tutor was a trusted friend of Carlisle, Felix Volturi. He was a chemistry professor previously, but decided to quit his job to become a full time dad, and now gave tuition during the day to earn some extra income for the family. I know he will not hurt Isabella intentionally, for Felix is a kind man. Yet, I cannot help but worry. In the past few days, we have not brought Isabella out to meet anyone new, so this is her first encounter with someone else outside of this family, and I feel apprehensive about it. I consider Bella a daughter of mine, and I care for her deeply, just as I do with all my children.
I talk to the helper, who comes every alternate day to clean the house, and help her with the chores distractedly, my mind constantly on whether Bella is getting on fine.
Finally, after what seemed like forever but was only 3 hours, I hear Felix clearing his throat behind me.
"Mrs. Cullen, I think we will call it a day for now. If Isabella feels up to it, I shall extend the duration of the lessons the next time, tomorrow."
I nod, and thanking Felix, turn to walk him out the door. Isabella is standing at the dining room, looking bashfully at us. I smile reassuringly at her, before I follow Marcus into the foyer. Questions swarm my head, and Felix sees my unspoken queries, for he smiles warmly.
"Isabella is a joy to teach, Mrs. Cullen. She is an exceptionally bright student, and we will get through with the syllabus with no trouble at all. A young girl with such intelligence, she would catch up with the high school work with no difficulty. Of course, I am more than willing to tutor her if that is what you wish."
I nod my head, confirming that this is what we want, for Isabella. At least for the moment, until she gets better and regains her confidence. I had spoken to Carlisle previously, who agreed that unless Bella became more confident and self assured, she would be an easy target for the vultures in high school, and we did not want to her to experience that kind of stress after all she's been through.
Felix nods kindly, understanding in his eyes, and tells me that he would see me tomorrow.
Isabella Swan
Mr. Volturi, my tutor, is a very good teacher, and a very kind and patient man. This morning he arrived armed with books and supplementary materials for me. Today, we went through chemistry, biology, and literature- all of them being my favourite subjects. I am elated. As I sat there, soaking up all the stuff he taught me, I couldn't help feeling excited. I was finally learning, again. The kids back at my old school used to taunt me because I enjoyed learning, and they found it weird. But the joy of learning new things, gaining new perception in life, to simply immerse yourself fully into an alternate universe, be it one of atoms and molecules colliding to form compounds, or of cells pancreas and livers, or in the Victorian times- was overwhelming. I enjoyed studying and reading, very much.
The 3 hour lesson seemed to pass in a flash, and all too soon, it was the end of the session. He gave me some assignments and homework to do, and told me that I was a very bright student. I blushed at his complement, no stranger had called me bright before, and I felt warm all over. It was nice to be complemented. Though it was something I didn't experience often with Renee – where I was grateful if she didn't insult me- I found it very likable here.
Esme comes bursting in to the dining room after sending Mr. Volturi out.
"Bella, oh darling, did you enjoy your lesson?"
I nod my head, and smile at her. Yes, I enjoyed it very much, Esme. Thank you so much for getting me a tutor, I am so indebt to you, I probably owe this life I have to you, too.
She grins, and reaches over to hug me.
I am stunned for a moment and don't respond, but when it finally registers that Esme is hugging me, I hug her back too, trying to convey my gratitude as I wrap my arms around her. Hugging was increasingly becoming a less foreign concept to me, and I actually enjoyed the human touch. The way the Cullen's would hug me so freely moved me. Here, they did not avoid me like I was the plague. Back there, Renee never hugged me. She never showed me any sorts of affection, even when she was not drunk. She hardly touched me, other than when she reached out to hit me. I was a torn in her flesh, a crack in the wall that she just couldn't help but avoid as much as possible. A mistake that resulted from a one night stand without contraceptive devices. A life time regret, for being tied down to an annoying twit of a girl.
Here, though, with the Cullen's, I felt welcomed and liked, and I reveled in that feeling. The sensation of being… wanted. Even though I still panicked over the slightest sudden movement or threat, I could sense that I was becoming more relaxed, and less tense. My muscles ached much less. Even though I still did not dare to venture any further and look into people's eyes, I was not wary of their touches anymore. I felt happy, for once in my life.
We have lunch together; she eats a casserole while I drink a bowl of thick soup. The soup tastes delicious, I enjoy it very much. Esme makes small talk, and I nod and smile. I like it that she treats me like an equal, not like an annoying ant beneath her feet that ought to be stepped on at every turn. After lunch, I go upstairs to my room to do some homework, while Esme works on some designs. Apparently she is an interior designer, and a very successful one at that, too.
Soaking delightfully in my assignments and homework, I do not realize that time has flown past until a soft rap at my door startles me.
Edward Cullen
I knock on Isabella's door softly, and poke my head in. She is immersed in her homework, and I can't help but smile. Oh, Bella, you are too beautiful for words.
I want to tell her that she looks beautiful, the way she concentrates on her homework assignments. Instead, I ask her how her day was.
She smiles brightly, and my heart stops for second. I have never seen her so happy before, and seeing her so glad over having lessons makes me fall for her even more. The logical part of my brain insists that I am a pervert; she's 8 years younger than you, Cullen, for god's sake! You a pedophile or what?
Yet, my heart tells me that she's perfect.
I try not to let my conflict of emotions show, as I hold a rather one way conversation with her, just to see her smile and nod at whatever I say. Frankly, I was not aware as much of what I said, as how she responded.
Isabella Swan
It's been a week, and I'm surprised to find that I really like it here. I have settled into a nice, pleasant routine the last 2 days. Every morning, I wake up before 8am, have breakfast with Esme, and then have my lessons with Mr. Volturi. In the afternoon, I have lunch with Esme again before doing my homework. In the evening, I play the harp while waiting for Carlisle and Edward to come home, and then we have dinner together. Occasionally, Alice and Emmett join us for dinner. It is a nice feeling, to know that I belong somewhere, that the people here don't hate me. Esme has been such a dear, and so has Carlisle. Edward… he's indescribably kind and friendly towards me. I never had a friend in my entire 16 years, so a friend, albeit one that was 8 years older than me, was welcomed in my world. Edward knew what I liked, what I felt comfortable with, and what I was not comfortable with. He spoke to me about music, school work, what life is like at the University. It feels nice, listening to him talk about everything and nothing. The plain fact that he takes time to speak to me, and looks like he is actually interested in speaking to me at that makes me very happy. Of course, the fact that his voice sounds very, very nice is an additional bonus.
After my 1 week here, the Cullen's have not attempted to hurt me in anyway. They seem trustable, reliable. Knowing that the Cullen's were highly improbable to hurt me allowed me the benefit of opening up and relaxing a little. I don't feel as paranoid or tense as I did before, with Renee. Life here, is so damn good, it almost feels like a dream.
I still panic when someone moves abruptly. I can't stop my mind from thinking that that person is going to hit me, even if all he is trying to do is to reach for the vegetables across the table. But when that happens, I've learnt to try and keep my cool. Edward helps me with that; he shakes me out of the panic induced haze automatically, and I am very thankful to him.
Today is Saturday, exactly 1 week from the first time I set foot in this house. I sit at the breakfast table, and everyone who lives in this house is seated. I still can't speak, nor eat solid food, for my throat remains raw and well, bleached, so I sip at the oats quietly, soaking in the calm atmosphere. It was never calm back with Renee. Life was like walking on the tightropes, a small vibration of the rope would send me spiraling down into the abyss, ending up with bruises, cuts and broken bones.
Carlisle speaks up suddenly.
"Isabella, Dr. Whitlock has contacted me about your consultation with him. When would you like to see him?"
I stare at him. Not at him, but in his general direction. While I've grown more comfortable with the people here, I still really dislike looking people in the eye. I don't know why, perhaps it's just … an inborn trait. Dr. Whitlock is my psychologist, my psychiatrist, and my counselor. I don't dislike the guy, I just dislike counselors and psychologists in general. The idea of being mentally or emotionally unsound, to an extent to need a psychologist is really disturbing to me. It reminds me of how defective I really am, despite my shot at normalcy here, and I frown.
Carlisle must have seen me frown, because he speaks with caution. "Bella, it is for your good that you see Dr. Whitlock, yes? We can work something out if you're reluctant to go outside, of course."
I shake my head, and then nod my head. No, let's not make him come here. I've put these nice people through enough trouble already. I'll stop being a baby and go see Dr. Whitlock at his office. After all, I do want to get better. I want to be able to stop the panic attacks eventually. If it takes seeing a psychologist to get there, I'll do it.
Carlisle looks at me, confused.
Communication is difficult when I can't speak, and I wrack my brain for a way to tell him what I want. Edward hands me his cell phone wordlessly, and I accept it gratefully, keying in my message to Carlisle.
Carlisle smiles, and asks me when I would like to continue with the treatment at Dr. Whitlock's.
I shrug. It does not matter to me.
I want to get well, I tell myself. I want to lead a normal life, and make Carlisle and Esme proud. They have helped me so much, and I must help myself too. The Cullen's have taught me that Renee is really gone, she is thousands of miles away locked up in a jail cell. There is no way she can reach me here. The Cullen's will keep me safe. I am safe, here.
