Mark tossed and turned in the uncomfortable hotel bed. Thick sweat formed on his beady forehead and dripped down to his sculptured chest. The covers that were once surrounding his body now lay sprawled out on the floor.
The image of his parents constantly haunted his dreams. He couldn't escape their presence. They were continually trying to tell him something. Since his father's death, he's never had a good night's sleep. He had the same recurring dream night after night. The last thing his father said to him was on constant replay.
"Help me."
Mark blinked away the tears stinging his eyes. His father was stuck in the car and there was nothing he could do about it. Help was currently on its way, and all Mark and his father can do is wait.
"Dad!" Mark called out, pulling against the driver's side door, "Dad, can you hear me? I promise I'll get you out of here! I promise!"
Mark's father, Thomas, struggled against the pressure of his seat belt and airbag. They were both holding him in place. Since the car was flipped, he sat upside down and wriggled against the blood rushing to his head. Mark could see the red in his father's face. He noticed the blood seeping out of a large gash on his father's forehead.
Thomas realized struggling against the airbag and seatbelt was getting him nowhere, "Get me out of here!"
"I'm trying!" Mark hollered, once again pulling against the door, "I'm trying!"
"Try harder!"
Mark stood up and looked around. No cars were stopping to help. No bystanders were offering a hand. It was just him and his injured father. The car behind them crashed into a pole. Both passengers were perfectly fine. There wasn't any sign of them even being in a car crash.
"Excuse me!" Mark called out, waving his arms in the air, "I need your help!"
Carlisle prepped himself. He was a doctor. He could handle this. He took one step towards Mark before feeling a light hand grasp his arm. Carlisle looked over his shoulder to see Esme. She quickly nodded her head, "There's gasoline dripping from the car."
Carlisle looked forward at the young man with an apologetic expression. He couldn't save his father. He had to leave it to the professionals.
"You did this!" Mark hollered, running his hands through his hair, "You weren't paying attention! You did this to him!"
Esme grabbed her husband's hand in assurance. Mark glanced back at his father as the gasoline continued to trickle, "Dad, can you hear that? It's the sirens! You're about to be saved! I told you I was going to get you out of there! I promised you, remember?"
Thomas coughed as he smelt the gasoline thick in the air. He knew by the time the ambulance got to him, it was going to be too late. His son didn't come through on his promise. Thomas used the rest of his strength to turn and face his oldest, "You failed me."
Mark rapidly shook his head as Carlisle pulled him away. The further Mark was pulled away, the lower Thomas' voice got. He could hear his father's murmurs.
"You failed me!" Thomas screamed, wriggling uncomfortably in his seat, "You failed me Mark!"
Once his name left his father's lips, an explosion echoed through the streets of New York. The explosion rattled the streets. It was as if a mini earthquake shook the ground. Help arrived just after the explosion to take out the flames.
Mark sat up and inhaled a sharp breath before releasing it. He looked over to his brother to see him peacefully sleeping.
"Matthew," Mark called out, sliding off of his bed, "Matt wake up!"
Matt rolled over onto his side, "What is it? I'm not fighting you. I refuse to go back to jail."
"Carlisle was never charged." Mark informed, taking a seat on his brother's bed, "We were on the freeway. Esme was applying makeup to her face. Carlisle…was," he closed his eyes in an attempt to remember that day; "…He fell asleep behind the wheel."
Matthew sat up and leaned against the backboard of the bed. He turned to look at Mark. Mark stood up and walked over to the dresser. He gripped the end of it and leaned against it, "Carlisle was never charged."
"It was an accident." Matt spoke up, sliding off of his bed, "Dad's death was an accident."
Mark turned and smiled at his brother, "It isn't an accident, if it can be avoided."
Matt walked over to his brother, "Carlisle did not kill dad."
"Yeah and I didn't kill mom!" Mark sarcastically responded, glaring into his brother's eyes.
The mention of his mother's death sparked Matt's ears. He gripped his brother's arm and stared into his eyes, "What did you just say?"
"Forget about it." Mark growled, ripping his arm away, "Don't ask questions that you don't want the answer to."
Matt shook his head and backed away, "What did you do?"
Mark pushed open the bathroom door and entered. His mother, Elaine, sat in a bubble bath filled tub. Mark stood over her as she moved the bubbles to cover her body, "What can I do for you sweetheart?"
Mark didn't see his mother sitting before him. He saw a woman…a stranger. She was happy. It's been three days since his father's death and she didn't cry once. She didn't look like a grieving widow. Mark took a seat on the edge of the tub and stared at her, "Charges were never filed against Carlisle. He and his wife are heading home."
"I know dear." She replied, patting his hand, "It was an accident."
Mark shook his head, "I promised dad I was going to save him."
"Dear, that's why you shouldn't make promises." She smiled.
Mark smiled in return. He raised his hand and ran his fingers through his mother's curly, brunette hair. She grinned in return. Elaine felt a strong pressure against her head. Mark pushed down onto his mother's skull, "Why are you allowing them to get away with this? He was your husband!"
Elaine's hands flew to the air. She waved her arms around, desperately trying to come up for air. Mark turned on the radio positioned next to the bathtub, "He loved you. You were supposed to love him back."
Mark lifted the radio before standing up. His mother quickly came up for air and inhaled a deep breath. Her face was flushed red and her eyes were burning from the sting of the chemicals in the bubbles. She wiped the water from her face and looked at her oldest, "You don't want to do that Mark! Put it down!"
Mark smiled as he dropped the radio into the bathtub. He watched his mother's body shake from the static shock of the electricity. She reached her hand out, hoping to receive his help.
"I couldn't help dad." He spat, backing away, "Why would you think I would help you?"
Elaine's body started slowing down. He knew she was giving up. Her eyes remained open as her form went limp. He grinned as he turned off the light, "Matthew, call the cops! Mom's dead! Mom killed herself!"
Matthew's fist clenched together before he pulled it back. Mark, always one step ahead, caught his brother's fist before it made any contact with his face.
Matt rammed his fist against the wall, "You killed her!" He punched the wall again, "You killed our mother! How could you do something like that?"
Mark smiled as he slowly approached his brother's side, "She wasn't loyal. She allowed the killer of our father to get away with his crime. That question you ask dear brother should be directed at our mother."
Mark exhaled a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding in. He patted his brother on the back before heading back to bed. The truth did set you free. He felt good. Mark could now get a good night's sleep; Matt on the other hand could not.
Rosalie ran her fingers through her damp hair as she followed Emmett to the bar. From the moment they arrived, until now, they were on the floor square dancing. Emmett smiled, as he gazed at the sweat glistening up her forehead, "You're a fast learner."
She gathers her breath, "I have to be." Rose turns around to face the Washington natives' square dance happily to the music. Her mind drifts away from the present and starts to reflect on the past.
Matt takes a firm hold of nine year old Rosalie's hand as they approach Central Park. A live unknown band is livening up the area within earshot of the music. It is obvious Rose isn't comfortable. She doesn't want to be here. Rosalie struggles to pull her hand out of his hold, but he doesn't budge, "Rose I need you to relax. I want you to enjoy the music. Look at the other little girls dancing to the music."
Rose's body is stiff. She casually glances around the large group of adults and children. The little kids were dancing, laughing and playing around, but it didn't seem right. In Rose's eyes, you're not supposed to be that relaxed. That'll give the enemy the opportunity to strike. In a desperate attempt to leave, she gathers whatever strength a nine year old has, and tries to pull away from Matt, "I don't want to be here. I want to go home Uncle Matt."
Matt smiled down at the little girl. Every time she pouted, guilt always washed over him. It was no measurement of how much guilt and blame he felt daily. He always hoped taking her to places like this would ease his pain.
Matt moved his body to the music and smiled, "This is fun Rose. Come on. Dance with me."
Rosalie watched his figure move. She looked around her and observed everyone else dancing. The beat of the music goes through her ear, but instead of exiting through the other ear, it just sits there inside of her mind. She doesn't even realize her foot tapping to the beat. Matt did.
"Isn't it-"Matt's question is cut off from the shove he receives to the shoulder.
Rose's foot immediately stops tapping as she looks up to see Mark. His face was red. If this was a cartoon, smoke would be bursting through his ears. Mark looked down at the innocent girl and grabbed her hand, "Rosalie, you know better than that. Let's go."
Matthew didn't want to cause a scene. Therefore he chose to silently watch as his brother pulled Rose away. He smiled as he watched her long, blond pigtails bounce up and down. She was a beautiful little girl and if Matt could get her to smile and laugh, that beauty would be amplified.
Rosalie's small, short legs struggled to keep up with Mark's. She couldn't fall behind because his hand held a tight grip around hers. When she seemed to slow down, he sent her a quick look. The look of anger only made her legs ache as she continued to struggle to keep up.
When they were far away from the crowd, he pulled her to a stop, "Your focus should be on your fighting and technique."
"Sorry Uncle Mark." She replied, quickly ducking to avoid a hit.
A Cheshire grin stretches across Mark's face as he pulls a knife from his coat pocket. He tosses the knife at her, and proudly watches as she dodges it. Mark felt like a proud father watching his young daughter graduate. He clapped his hands, "You got it."
"I'm a fast learner." She replied, picking the knife up.
He snatches the knife from her hand, "You have to be."
Rosalie blinks out of the flashback to see Emmett's hand waving in front of her face. Out of reflex, her hand quickly grabs his wrist. He twists his arm out of her hold, and smiles, "Where did you go?"
"Sorry."
Emmett took a seat on a stool and faced her, "What do you usually like to drink?"
"Anything non-alcoholic." She answered, taking the seat next to him.
Emmett orders her and him a drink. He knew she was technically under the drinking age, but she was the first twenty-year old he's met that didn't try to attempt to drink illegally. His drink came, and he decided to nurse it, "Have you ever had an alcoholic drink?"
She shook her head, "It clouds your judgment. In my line of work, all five of my senses must be accurate. I am not going to allow an alcoholic beverage to alter them."
"Your line of work," he repeated, after taking a quick sip of his strong beverage, "you're a planning assistant."
Before her date, Jasper wanted to help her in any way possible. She's never really dated before, so all of this is new to her. He read up online and briefed her over the information he gathered. The second date is the deal breaker. It is more of an interrogation. Rose definitely was not ready to divulge countless memories and facts about her life.
He noticed the antsy look she showed after he mentioned her current job. Emmett wanted to avoid all awkwardness during the date. In result he chose to change the subject, "What do you do for fun?"
Rosalie wanted to laugh in his face. Fun? There was no time for fun in her life. She drummed her fingers along her glass of soda, "Back in New York, I would go to the shooting range."
Emmett smirked, "I've never been. I actually never shot a gun before."
She raised her eyebrows in complete shock. She thought everyone has shot a gun at least once in their lives. The first time she shot a gun, she was six. As a five year old, she chose different methods to execute death. They usually involved Girl Scout cookies or jump ropes, but most of the time she had to watch Mark implement murder as a course in their lesson.
"Maybe we can go there for our next date?" Emmett offered, flashing his dimpled grin.
"Yeah," she whispered, nodding her head, "Maybe."
Her drink caught hold of her attention. She was parched. Rosalie guzzled down her non-alcoholic beverage in an attempt to cool off her body.
"I hate to change the subject, but I know Edward is Carlisle and Esme's nephew," She set her glass down and faced him, "but, do they have any children of their own?"
Emmett cleared his throat and sat up straight, "They had a daughter."
Rosalie was surprised. She at least figured they would try to cover up their unwanted spawn. "What happened to her?"
He hopped off of the stool, "I don't know. Esme doesn't talk about it." He extended his hand towards her, and looked to the floor, "How about we try again?"
Rose gently placed her lethal hand into Emmett's. He pulled her off of the stool and back onto the floor. She managed to grasp all of the footing involved in the dance. This was one dance you couldn't not smile while doing. The music itself brought cheer to everyone's faces, including Emmett's. The smile on his face made her want to smile, but somewhere deep inside of her cursed at her for even considering the option.
Emmett proudly watched her square dance, "It's like you're a natural."
"I am." She smiled back.
As their date night slowly approached its end, a part of Emmett didn't want to see her leave. He gathered their belongings and followed her outside, "I'll walk you to your car."
Her eyes watched him as he wrapped her jacket around her shoulders. Emmett made sure she was snuggled into her jacket nice and warm. Surrounding the night was awkward silence. As they made their way to her car, he reached for her dangling hand. A spark shot through her hand as she felt his brush against hers. She quickly pulled her hand away and stuffed it into her pocket.
Emmett played it off. He used his free hand to run through his hair. He didn't want her thinking the rejection was getting to him. Even though he wasn't used to it, she didn't need to know that. He turned to face her, after approaching her car, "I hope you had fun. I'm looking forward to the shooting range."
Rosalie gave him a small smile as she pulled her hands from her coat pocket. Her fingers were cold and trembling with nervousness at her sides. She could read everyone's emotions well, just not her own. Her eyes glowered down at her hands, struggling to make them stop. Internally, she cursed herself. Her body was defying her.
"You're cold." Emmett stated, watching her body shiver, "Come here."
Emmett gently and securely wrapped his arms around her. He did it slow so he wouldn't frighten her. She was shocked from the gesture and the courage. Emmett was surprised as well. He expected her to pull away and when she didn't, he felt a little hope in their future relationship.
Even though she didn't hug him in return, she didn't push him away either. She accepted the hug and loosened herself within it. Emmett, on the other hand, wasn't going to question it. He could feel her body stiffen. She was most likely contemplating on what to do next. Rose didn't know whether to hug him back or pull away.
She felt her guard slightly lower, causing her to pull away. Rosalie's guard being lowered felt good, but she wasn't used to it. She's spent her entire life building walls to protect herself. In just a small moment of time, Emmett was able to dent them.
Rosalie pulled out her car keys, and flashed him a small smile, "I did have fun. I'll see you next Friday."
