Twilight character names belong to Stephanie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 Marie0912 (Marie .L.A.). All rights reserved worldwide.

Sydney, you are a irreplaceable and simply wonderful Beta, thank you so much!

And thank you so much to those who have reviewed, recommended and added this story to favorites and alerts.

A special thanks goes to MrsTheKing who writes crude poetry and compelling stories that keeps you at the edge of your seat, either cringing from sheer disgust or shivering with delight (depending on which of her stories you are reading, they are all epic in their own way;). She has faith in this, and that is more humbling than you can begin to imagine.

My writing is inspired by her. Not a published author, not an old, baggy English poet. Her.

Now this update is all your fault for flooding my inbox with reviews! Holly hell! THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH! Unbelievable!

I have done my best to respond to everyone, but when I open a review on my ipod, I cant reply and then later I forget and blah blah blah…! No excuse, I will do better, I promise!

My beta has told me to put a warning on this chapter, since it contains violence and may be offensive/ disturbing. Be prepared.

"Captain Morgan."

Carlisle Cullen could do little but gape at the brutal bruise and knuckle marks on Edward's cheek. His boy hissed in pain when he put pressure on his cheekbone and probed the skin around his eye."I'm serious, Edward. Who did this?" he demanded as he grasped his son's face between his gentle yet firm hands.

He stared into Edward's irises, a peculiar color that changed with his mood and the lighting around him. They were green, though a circle around the iris was a reddish, mahogany brown. When angry, they would turn pitch black and frightening. When sad, they would become a deep moss green, and when happy they were a mixture of olive and brown.

But when lying, or when afraid, his eyes would close.

Carlisle found his cell phone and typed his question in a text message, holding it up for Edward to read and watching his face to see if he revealed anything.

But, like expected, Edward simply shook his head.

Carlisle growled under his breath and scrolled down his contact list, finding Esme's number and pressed the call button. She picked up on the third ring, sounding out of breath.

"Hello, darling! I'm just at the supermarket right now. Do you need something?" she asked affectionately.

"Someone struck him, Esme. Edward. Someone hit him, and he won't tell me anything. I need to take him down to the hospital and get an x-ray. His cheekbone is tender and I'm worried about the socket around the eye. Someone has a mean right hook, that is for certain," Carlisle informed.

"What? Someone struck him?!" Esme's voice was high-pitched and verging on hysterical.

"Yes. Now, it's nothing serious, I don't think, just know that we might be a while," Carlisle soothed in his most calm and gentle voice; the same one that he used to coo to Edward with when he was a baby. That memory stung at his heart.

He hung up on his wife and typed what Edward needed to know into his phone again. The boy tried to object, insisting loudly that he was just fine and that an icepack would do, but Carlisle would have none of it.

Father and son drove in silence. Carlisle refused to put music on in the car for his own pleasure when his boy would be denied. He never knew, but this affectionate sacrifice hurt Edward to the depth of his being.

As they reached the hospital and parked in the private parking lot reserved for the staff, Isabella was headed home.

Her day hadn't improved much over the last hours and all she wanted to do was go to bed and forget. But she knew she couldn't. She had to know Edward was alright first.

So when she got home, Bella found and dialed his home number, hoping to reach a parent.

It picked up, and a woman's voice sounded through the speaker, her voice pleasant and gentle in its cadence and flow.

"Cullen residence, Esme speaking."

Giggling slightly at the formality of her introduction, Bella replied.

"Hello Mrs. Cullen, this is Isabella Swan calling," she said with a warm familiarity in her voice. She was slightly confused about how she felt so at ease with the stranger on the other end of the line. She was not a people person, nor did she like strangers.

This was very disarming.

"Well, hello dear! How can I help you?" Esme Cullen asked gently.

"Actually, I'm…" Bella sighed. "I'm calling about Edward … your son? He got hurt today at school and he was so upset when he left that I was unable to make sure that he was alright and…"

She took a deep breath and stopped her rambling, feeling her voice crossing the line between inquisitive and slightly desperate sounding.

"You were there? Who hit him?" Esme demanded quickly, without soothing Isabella's fears.

"Yes, I was. His name is Emmett McCarty," Bella told her in a gentle voice.

"Emmett McCarty," Esme repeated with pure anger. "Why?"

"Because he's a bully."
It was a simple fact. There was no need to sugar coat it or make up excuses, no need to describe the situation or in any way try to justify it. Emmett was a bully. Emmett had hit Edward because that's just what he does.

"Right," Esme answered, sounding far away judging by the tone of her voice and Isabella could tell she was plotting something and it gave her immense satisfaction.

At least someone would do something.

"Well, my husband has taken him to the emergency room for an x-ray just to be sure, but he seems fine. Thank you so much for your concern, young lady. I am very glad you called and inquired about Edward and I will let him know that you were concerned. Now if you will excuse me, I have some business to take care of."

"Yes, of course. Have a good evening, Mrs. Cullen," Isabella said hastily and hung up.

Esme stood for a couple of minutes, holding the wireless house phone in her hand, contemplating. At this age, she believed that children should fight their own battles unless something serious bloomed between them. That was probably what Edward would have wanted. It was probably why he denied his parents the information about who hit him and why.

But as her eyes drifted over to the baby grand piano that stood proudly in the middle of their living room, she was brutally reminded of the fact that Edward was no longer a normal, average eighteen year old boy. In the eyes of society he was an adult, but the traumatic events of recent past had made him dependant on others again, something that Edward had never liked being in the first place.

She thought about what Isabella Swan had said. The boy was a bully.

Esme made up her mind. She would help her son, no matter if he needed it or not.

She called the school's main office and demanded the phone number to Emmett McCarty's home.

Mrs. Cope was not surprised to hear from the family it seemed, and gave it up without any arguments, hoping that Esme wouldn't demand they acted as well. And Esme didn't. As soon as she was off the phone with the ignorant school secretary, she dialed the home number she had been given.

It rang a couple of times before a man picked up the phone.

"Yeah?" It sounded more like a grunt than a greeting.

"Hello, this is Esme Cullen speaking, have I reached the McCarty residence?" Esme asked politely.

"Yeah," the unpleasant voice replied once more.

"Are you by any chance Emmett McCarty?" Esme asked, hoping the answer was no. She wanted to speak to his parents.

"No, I'm the fucker's father. What has he done?" Mr. McCarty asked in a nonchalant tone.

"Well, as a matter of fact, he struck my son at school today, Mr. McCarty. My son is currently getting x-rays," Esme informed him, clenching her fists in anger as she waited for his reply.

"Well, boys will be boys, Mrs. Cullen," the man replied, with clear indifference.

For just a moment, she allowed herself to pity the man's son. He was clearly not father of the year, but Emmett had marked her son. That could not be forgotten.

"Yes, I am sure you think so, Mr. McCarty, but your boy and my boy are from two very different worlds. One does not simply strike another, and on top of that unprovoked from what I have been lead to understand. My boy is deaf, Mr. McCarty, and even though your child finds satisfaction in beating on the handicapped, society and our laws tend to frown upon it. Now I will give you a chance to talk to him yourself, or I can let the police do it," Esme told him calmly. "So what will it be?"

It went quiet on the other line for a few minutes, and then Mr. McCarty finally decided that it was polite to respond.

"Fine, I'll talk to him. He won't do it again," he said with seething finality in his voice that made Esme shudder and hang up abruptly.

As Esme pondered the conversation she had just had, she worried about the neglect that Emmett might be suffering. She couldn't help herself, it was inevitable. She cared, no matter how cruel a child acted. She knew it was nurture and not nature`s fault.

Edward and Carlisle entered the foyer half an hour later. Her son had an icepack over his injured eye and Carlisle had take out. They were smiling, in spite of the day's events and Esme found joy in the fact that Edward had found something to be glad about today.

As they sat down to eat, twilight was upon Forks and a mist spread through town.

Emmett McCarty drove his battered old minivan up the driveway to his house while the Cullens ate in silence and Edward used one hand to bring the fork to his mouth while the other supported the cooling compress on his bruise.

As he turned off the ignition and locked the door, David McCarty walked out the front door to greet him.

"Hello, son," he said, his voice low and angry.

Emmett flinched.

David McCarty cleared his throat and spat a loogie on the porch. He lifted the bottle of Captain Morgan to his lips and drained it before throwing it onto the floor, watching it shatter with satisfaction and then started walking towards his boy.

"I got an interesting phone call today," Mr. McCarty said and cracked his knuckles. "A lady says you punched her handicapped son."

He raised an eyebrow at Emmett and waited for a reply.

Realization dawned on him then. Edward Cullen's mother had called.

His stomach plunged and his nerves stood on end, the weed in his system doing nothing to calm him now.

"Answer me, boy!" David McCarty boomed, making Emmett flinch and nod hastily.

"It was a misunderstanding, dad. It was a mistake! I didn't know that he was deaf, I swear, I—"

But he was interrupted abruptly as David McCarty swung his fist through the air and came in contact with Emmett's stomach. It knocked the air out of him instantly and the father watched with malicious glee as his son fell to his knees, heaving for breath.

Emmett was now in convenient level with his father's knees and not a moment later, one of them shot up and hit Emmett square in the nose.

It broke with a sickening crack, blinding him. David McCarty proceeded with strikes and kicks until the boy would need his mother's help to stand later on.

Blood dyed the earth red, screams of agony and prayers of mercy filled the air. Cruel, satisfied grunts came from his father every time a blow caused a particularly nasty yelp of pain. Finally, David McCarty unbuckled his belt and pulled it loose from his pants, wrapping the buckled end around his fist and started lashing the boy.

Emmett had been punished, but Esme would never forgive herself if she found out.

So, yeah… If you are still breathing and with me, leave a review;) You know where it gets you.

Though please don't get used to the everyday updates, because this will not be possible in the long run.
The greatest inspiration is your feedback, keep it coming!

All my love, some crude snarkiness and Norwegian typos,

Marie0912