Sure enough, despite Esme's attempt to prevent Mrs. Stanley's call to my father, he knew. I could tell as soon as he walked in the door, home from work as the sun just began setting in the distance. He sauntered into the kitchen and watched me wash dishes for a moment before speaking.
"Did you do anything fun today, Isabella?" I could hear the threat in his voice, the eerie emphasis he placed on the word fun and fear paralyzed my throat and body. I said nothing. Stupid stupid stupid girl, I thought. He slowly walked up behind me, standing too close.
"Answer me, Isabella." I hated it when he said my name, and he always said my name when addressing me, as if there were another person in the house to confuse me with. I was torn from my thoughts as he painfully grabbed my neck and yanked me to down to the floor. "ANSWER ME," he yelled as spittle sprayed from his lips.
"N-n-no father. I just did the shopping for dinner and went to the doctor like you said." I trembled on the floor, looking everywhere but at him. I saw bread crumbs under the fridge. I really had to clean that up before he noticed.
He laughed. Not like funny haha. No, it was his all-too-familiar, cold hearted, sweat inducing, menacing, creepy laugh. I peeked at him and saw his lips peeled back to show all his white teeth. I thought he might start snarling, like an animal. I braced myself for whatever would come next, because I knew it was coming.
"No Isabella, you did not do as I said. I heard from Mrs. Stanley that you were harassing the new family in Forks and you know that you aren't supposed to talk to strangers. We wouldn't want you going off the deep end." Another bone chilling laugh, this one cut off abruptly. "So get my belt. The broken one." The broken one. The broken one. It was the worst of his belts. The belt was old and while not really broken, it had been mangled a long time ago when Charlie was using some power tool. It left the metal of the buckle gouged and sharp in places, ready to tear my skin one little bit at a time. Charlie's steel toe boot in my side told me I had hesitated too long. I knew from experience that further disobedience was unwise, so I quickly jumped to my feet and ran up to his room to fill his request.
Returning to my father, I handed him the belt and resumed my position on the floor, pulling up my thin shirt. He began immediately and while I knew he expected no noise, I usually could not comply which always resulted in a few extra licks. The pain of each strike was agonizing over my boney back and I found myself whimpering with every one. I could feel the blood dripping down, and soon I could see it on the floor, falling in small droplets. It was funny almost, how I used to be faint at the sight of blood, but I had plenty of exposure to numb me from it.
Satisfied with my punishment, he went to wash up for dinner, leaving me to my bloody mess. I quickly wiped up what I could on the floor, and decided that I would have to bleach it out of the grout later. Putting my shirt back on stung until I could ignore the pain enough to dish out Charlie's plate and retreat upstairs to my room. I waited for him to finish and begin his zone out with sports, my only real time of peace, taking a brief shower to get the blood off. I had little hope of putting any medicine on it since I couldn't reach most of it, but I thought I would try.
Yeah, I'll want to prevent scarring incase I begin sunbathing, or start modeling. Right.
It was ridiculous.
It was quickly getting dark outside but I could navigate to my hidden first aid stash with my eyes closed. Quietly sneaking out the back door, I ran to the edge of the woods and counted 23 strides before stopping next to a tree with a hollow base. Inside I could see my hidden green box of goods. Gauze pads, antiseptic, antibiotics, aloe, and band-aids. Much of what I had was stolen from the hospital on one of my many trips. I gritted my teeth as I wiped the antiseptic on my wounds. It was agony all over again. I cleaned what I could, which wasn't much, and put everything away before sneaking back in the house. ESPN had Charlie's undivided attention. He would be furious if he knew that I was trying to heal his work.
I sat in my room thinking about the coming days. Since it was the last Friday before school started, I started cataloguing all my supplies that I had rationed from last year, and made note of what I would need to regrettably buy. Charlie required justification for everything I purchased. He hated spending money on me since I was essentially a waste of space. "What do you need an education for? You won't amount to anything!" How true he was. They sat in a stack on my desk next to a shelf that held the only books I owned; the bible (which I really found to be a very long and boring piece of fiction), dictionaries, and a worn copy of a 1995 farmers almanac. Any books that I checked out of the library were hidden from Charlie.
All too soon I could hear Charlie clomping up the stairs. My alarm read 9:30pm. He locked my bedroom door as was customary before retiring to his room, and I signed in relief. Saturday was my favorite day of the week because Charlie always went fishing with his buddies in the La Push reservation, and I would have the day to myself. I spent most of the time cleaning as required by Charlie, but I always managed to get in recreational time for reading, drawing, or just sitting outside.
As soon as Charlie began snoring I felt dread come over me, realizing that soon I would have to go to sleep, and have the dream yet again. I tried to postpone it as long as possible by pacing, opening my window and taking in the night breeze rustling through the trees. I looked up into the cloudless night with a full moon bright against the dark sky dotted with stars. It was a beautiful night; a night that one might go to a movie with friends, or snuggle up with a loved one. Tears welled up in my eyes and began to fall as I thought of how alone I was. How I missed my mother even when I never knew her. I thought of the lone picture of her on the mantle downstairs, and how beautiful she looked with her bright smile, wishing I could have had that maternal bond, and wondering how my life could have turned out differently.
"Why did you have to leave me with him?" I wispered into the night air. The trees creaked with indifference at my plea.
"He is going to kill me any day now. I know it. His punishments are getting worse, and I'm getting weaker. I don't want to live anymore, if it means living in this hell. Save me, please." A dog barked in the distance. Nothing. Crickets singing in the bushes. Nothing. Wind blowing again. Nothing.
I sighed, defeated. I was nothing and deserved nothing and got nothing.
It was time for the dream.
I was running, my life depended on escape. I willed my legs to go faster then they could.
But I knew they wouldn't.
The dream was always the same.
I was being chased, but I couldn't see my stalker through the tall trees of my home. I fell over every small rock and stray branch in the woods losing any ground I could have hoped to gain. The moss was slippery under my hands and my feet could find no purchase. The silhouetted man following was walking at a leisurely pace but was somehow able to gain a shocking amount of ground. Within minutes I knew he would be on me.
His maniacal laughter rang through the air, assaulting my ears. "Isabella…." His voice was rough like sandpaper, but teasing, like it always was. I put my hands over my ears and hid behind a dead tree that had fallen on the ground. I could sympathize.
"Isabella, don't hide, you know I love to see you." He made it sound like a pout, as though he actually meant it. I knew he didn't.
I cowered further into the tree wishing that I could run but it was futile. Fear penetrated every single one of my senses, freezing me in place as I watched a hand creep around the top of the tree. But it wasn't his hand. It was smaller, more pale, and feminine. No. It couldn't be. Esme grabbed me and shielded my body with her own. With her arms wrapped around me she looked in my eyes and smiled. I tried to wriggle out of her iron grasp to no avail. I couldn't let another innocent die because of me, someone else's mother. I screamed in her face to run, begged and pleaded. She just smiled, nothing but warmth and love in her eyes.
The familiar gunshot rang out and I instinctively flinched. But I felt no pain. I was abruptly released from the iron grasp and stumbled back a few steps. I stood there, looking at beautiful Esme standing before me, still smiling and with her arms held wide as if expecting a hug, but now in the center of her chest blood began to seep through her shirt. It poured to the ground and soaked her clothing. She still smiled even as she fell to her knees, arms outstretched to me. I could not help but go to her side. I held her as she smoothed my hair back, dying here in the forest of my mind. "I'm…sorry Esme, I'm so sorry. I…I tried. I tried to warn you." Tears began to fall as I held her small form. I couldn't believe this had happened. The first person in years to show me any kindness was now dead. Because of me. My head fell to her shoulder, uncontrollable sobs seizing my body. I held her tighter, wishing the gunshot would move from her to me. She continued to smooth my hair, and I recognized the song as the one that had played in the car by Debussy. Soon all movement from Esme stopped and when I pulled my head back from her shoulder and looked at her face, it seemed as though she could have been sleeping. She was peaceful looking.
In a panic I suddenly realized that my father was still around with a loaded gun with his intended target still breathing. I whipped my head around all sides of Esme and I only to find that he was….gone. I did not hear his voice, his footsteps, the cocking of the gun, nothing. I was alone with Esme. I laid down next to her, and silently cried. I thought of Dr. Cullen who would never see his wife again, and would surely despise me. I thought of her children who would be with out their mother. I closed my eyes thinking of all the enemies I had made. Why was I even alive? I had often wondered this, and usually did not come up with a worthwhile answer. 'To clean Charlies house' didn't seem like a reason for my being. I had begun thinking of suicide more lately, just to escape him. I could lay in the warm bath and go out of this world the same way I entered it; in blood.
I awoke the next morning to another sunny day, and this time, I did not scorn it. I felt strangely peaceful, despite my horrific dream. I laid in bed for some time thinking of the dream and contemplating Esme's appearance and then death. What did it mean?
It was far past Charlie's departure so I was alone in the house. I was surprised that I did not wake him up from my dream and that I did not wake up from the unlocking of my door. As I stared at the ceiling, the suns rays lighting my whole room. I felt more rested then I have in a while and though there was pain, some old and familiar, some new and on fire, I almost felt…good.
My solo Saturday might not be so bad.
