[A/N] Proper A/N at the End. I know how long you've waited for this.

Watching Me.

BPOV

I chewed on the sandwich, not really tasting the filling (chicken?) but merely going through the motions of eating. I couldn't help but notice Edward watching me. His mouth moved quickly as he bit off piece by piece of his apple; he was obviously ravenous and didn't care that I was watching him too. For some reason, I found the movements of his mouth quite entrancing. Every now and again, his tongue would dart across his lips, or his eyes would meet mine and . . .

Stop it, Bella.

Just ten minutes ago, he had told me that his monster wanted to kill me. Yes, I was scared. Yes, I'd wanted to run. Yes, yes, yes. But I couldn't walk away from him. I felt tethered to this chair, unable to move, unable to think as his silky velvet voice surrounded me, telling me that he would never let anything happen to me.

And I believed him. Apparently Angela's words hadn't put me off any more than my common sense had.

He smiled now, a tiny curve of his lips as he watched me. It was so easy to imagine that he was normalwhen he smiled at me like that. It made his eyes soften and lose the hard edge to them; a lion with the mannerisms of a kitten. When he was like this, I could almost forget that he had something wrong with him, that he heard voices and had tried to strangle me to death.

There was a soft, rumbling sound coming from Edward. His mouth twitched as if he was about to say something, but thought again or hesitated. I looked around me, seeing Emmett perched on the table behind Edward. He frowned: Everything okay? I gave him a brief smile: Just peachy.

I looked up at Edward. He was looking in my direction yet lost in his own world. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it again. My heart picked up pace, waiting for it, the smoothness of his deep voice. Nothing came.

I let out a gush of air, disappointed. Not that I wanted to hear his voice, I told myself, he might have had something important to say. I peeled the crust off of the triangle and nibbled on it. Closing my eyes, I waited for my chest to stop thumping and cursed my body for acting irrationally. Would I be able to look up, look at his face, into his eyes without reacting this way?

I tried.

But this time, something was off. His skin looked drained, even paler that it was before. His eyes were slits, barely open as he looked through me. This was different. Anguish.

"Edward?"

Water was dripping down his hand and pooling onto the table beneath his bandaged hand. He didn't answer me; he didn't even acknowledge that I had called his name. I bit my lip, searching his face for any signs of him going back to normal. Whatever "normal" was for him, anyway.

"Edward?" I raised my voice as much as I could without attracting Emmett's attention. The last thing I needed was him to come rushing over and take Edward away from me.

Wait, what?

I saw him gulp, and after the longest seconds of my life Edward snapped out of it and spoke, "What's his name?"

I almost jumped at the barking timbre of his voice. I was expecting the soft, strong and controlled Edward I was used to, but this was a different Edward.

I balked, not really sure of what he was asking me. He sighed, as if he were talking to an incompetent child, and elaborated. "Your fucking boyfriend, Bella. What the fuck is his name?"

I paused, trying to think back to when I had told him about Jacob. I couldn't remember. Had I?

"J-Jake," I mumbled, almost asking the name as a question. I was frightened about what this information would mean to Edward, what with him calling me his all the time. Would he flip? Go mad and tear the food hall apart like he had his bookcase? My eyes flitted to where Emmett was chomping down on a beefburger or something. Completely oblivious.

I couldn't bear looking at Edward's face. I hadn't seen so much pain on a man's face since my mother passed away. His expression reminded me too much of my dad, hanging on the last few threads that my mother left behind, looking hollow and incomplete, destroyed by the loss.

"Does he touch you, Bella?" came a shredded and soft voice. I could hear the neediness in his words. He needed an answer from me, as if what I said would quench his thirst.

"Yes," I whispered, my feet tapping lightly on the floor, my anxiety increasing.

"Does he fuck you, Bella?" he rasped, and I shuddered.

"Yes," I answered almost immediately, mentally kicking myself afterwards. He was going to go insane. I knew it. He'd grab me, tightly, and say something nutty people said in the movies. If I can't have you, nobody will. Then he'd kill me, in front of all these people. All because me and my boyfriend, whose name I struggled to remember when I was with Edward, fucked.

Why couldn't I lie? What was wrong with me? Would it have been so difficult to have said no, or to have denied having a boyfriend in the first place? This was a life and freaking death thing here, and I just blew it.

I gulped, chancing a glance upwards.

Edward shivered, but said nothing. I blinked, waiting for him to speak, to growl, to do something, but all I got was blank. Like I was looking at a brick wall.

My head swayed to the side; I felt dizzy. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gave my equilibrium time to balance my body, and when I thought I was steady enough, opened them again. Edward was still blank to me, still shivering, still squeezing that damned water bottle though no water was trickling out anymore.

I reached forward, gingerly attempting to pry the bottle from his grip. I couldn't; he was too strong, and aloof.

"Not any more," he grunted. At the sound of his voice I quickly removed my hands from his, looking up at him with a mixture of guilt and confusion.

"Huh?" was my articulate response.

"I said," he said, "not any more."

It was my turn to shudder, as I understood his meaning. I was unsure of whether the statement was a threat or not, but he had said it with such authority and really, I had no idea anymore of what Edward was capable of. How the hell had he known about Jake, anyway? The only person I had told about my boyfriend was . . . Tyler. And he was long gone.

Plus, nothing had explained how the hell Edward had known my name the first time we'd met. He was obviously getting his information from somewhere . . . Was he stalking me? Did he know a way out of here and did he know where I lived?

Holy freaking crow.

"I'll know," he said, snapping me out of my mental hysterics with a warning tone to his voice. I could see crazed flickers in his eyes, and, coupled with the sandpaper grit in his voice, I was afraid.

"Know what?" I whispered, knowing entirely what he meant. But half of me wanted to find out if he indeed did stalk me. The other half was eager to hear him speak, despite the shivers he sent coursing through me.

"I'll fucking know if he fucks you, Bella. You're mine. Mine alone."

I felt my skin prickle as my hairs raised along my arms. Edward growled softly, to himself, to his monster, probably, mouthing something I couldn't hear. His eyes then snapped up at me. Searching like a desperate man.

"Fuck, Bella. Say it. Say it, now." He hissed, teeth gritted in an apparent need.

I stuttered. "I-I-I'm yours, Edward." I didn't like lying to him like this, but what the hell was I supposed to say to him? The truth? That I loved my boyfriend?

As if he could read my mind and dishonesty, he growled. "Again," he commanded, taking in a loud breath.

"I'm yours, Edward." I said firmly, keeping eye contact for most of the short sentence. He closed his eyes and moaned loudly, causing me to look around to check if anyone had heard it. No one had.

"Louder," he muttered sharply, eyes still shut with a subtle smirk on his face.

I squeaked, raising the volume as much as I could without being heard by the next tables across. "I'm yours, Edward."

A long groan made me cross my legs. He opened his eyes.

"Isabella," he purred. "My beautiful Bella. I love how you say my name." I flushed red as he used long fingers to grab a triangle of his sandwich. His other hand uncrushed his water bottle so that he could get to the last splashes of water. He drank, then ate. I watched him quietly, seeing his fingers make quick, precise movements, not realizing I was staring until he caught me.

He smirked; a crooked smile.

Hot damn.

"Oh, well, I should clean the table up. I'll go get a napkin." Red as a tomato, I stood, bumping clumsily into the table leg in my attempt to get away from Edward. If I could only distance myself from him, I wouldn't have the chance to react to him. I needed to keep my boyfriend— my priorities— in mind.

Edward's amused chuckle followed me to the lunch table.

I shivered, vaguely noting the musical sound of his laugh and ignoring how it made me feel warm inside. What the hell was wrong with me, anyway? Why couldn't I just leave him alone?

I grabbed a handful of napkins and jumped when a hand rested on my shoulder. "Edward?" I asked, turning around to see Emmett, of all people, grinning at me like a fool.

"Shit, Bella," he said, his playful grin making me frown. "Did he have you that scared?"

"Well," I said, gathering up my best 'honest' face. "He's not even that scary, to be honest."

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical and with good reason. "Really? He's a dangerous nutcase, Bella."

"He's fine, Emmett." I said, feeling the blush spread and contradict my lies. "Just a little moody, that's all." Emmett stared at me as if I was the nutty one. I wrung my hands together, feeling the napkins coarse texture scratch against my skin.

"I dunno," he whined, eyeing me up with a mock suspicion. "Maybe he just has a soft spot for you."

I laughed at the understatement. "Maybe."

"Well, erm, just be careful, okay, Bella? You're on my watch."

I gave him a tight smile and a lame thumbs up. "Sure thing. Angela's told me the basics. I should . . . go back to him, now?" I asked, excusing myself only to find out that Edward was gone.

I sighed in relief and . . . something else.

I took to mopping down the table with the paper napkins, silently marveling at how much water Edward had poured out of his bottle when he spaced out. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what was making him act that way. And how the hell he'd found out about Jake.

Was stalking beneath Edward? I doubted it. He'd called me his since the first time I saw him, he'd somehow known my name and he'd just said he'd know if Jake and I had sex. How the hell would he know if he couldn't see?

Was Jake safe? I had no doubt in my mind that, if there were a standoff between Edward and Jake, Edward would come out unharmed. Edward had a cool confidence about him that reeked of hidden secrets and mystery. All Jake had was a cocky grin, brute strength and a lack of control.

I didn't want Jake to get hurt, or die. I loved him.

No, a little voice in the back of my head cried. No you don't.

. . .

I was in the laundry room. After lunch hours were over and I had helped Angela to wash up, she had shipped me off to make sure everything was in order. Seeing as the Home only had Mike and I to do the ordinary work, there was actually quite a lot of work for us to get down to. Right now I had a list of people who weren't trusted to do their own washing.

Grabbing the detergent, I started loading Maggie's clothes into one of the machines. Angela told me that she had a habit of rooting through other people's clothes, trying to find out what they were hiding from her. I mean, I could really believe that, what with how Maggie was acting when I tried to talk to her at breakfast. Once I had sorted out that load, I put the box of detergent on the top of the machine and sighed.

My eyes wandered with a mind of their own around the room, with my feet involuntarily moving towards Edward's basket. It was exceptionally orderly on one side with all of his folded shirts, tanks, flannel pants, jeans, and boxer shorts stacked on top of each other in a perfectly symmetrical tower. Socks were all in pairs and in their own separate pile.

Looking to the right, I saw the pile of his clothes that were yet to be washed. They were messy and cluttered in the little basket, juxtaposing with the OCD-like neatness of his clean shirts. On the schedule on the wall, I noticed that Edward's washday was on Sunday, two days ago, explaining why there weren't many clothes there compared to Maggie's. My hand fluttered out to reach them, shirts, and pants, crumpled and aching to be touched.

I mentally slapped my hands away, ashamed at how I was about to snoop on Edward's life, as if he wasn't worth of privacy. I was worse than Maggie; at least she couldn't help her actions. I was fully aware of what I wanted to do, to pry into Edward's business and try and find out why one side of his space was spotless and the other was in disarray.

Screw it. Who would know?

I lifted up the first shirt from the pile, and then a pair of jeans, a towel, and some socks. Underneath them all, was one shirt, perhaps the same one from yesterday. I noticed some staining on the shirt and lifted it up by the shoulders to inspect it.

I paled.

Blood splatters colored patches of the shirt a thick crimson.

Heart thumping in my chest, I brought the shirt closer to inspect it. It was blood, it had to be, there was no other liquid that deep a red. How had this happened? Had Edward killed again?

Holy fucking mother of Jesus.

However the blood got there, it had to have happened between Sunday and today. I hadn't seen any cuts on Edward, so it can't have been self inflicted. Edward wasn't the type to do that, anyway. He was too clever, too methodical and detached to do that. It was only the emotionally unstable who had the tendencies to self-harm. If the blood came from someone, it would be another person.

Edward seemed to get a kick out of killing people. His moans were etched into my memory, his hand tight around my throat. He'd exhaled each breath shakily, in reverence. Yes, I could really believe that Edward had killed someone.

But would Angela have let me sit with someone she believed to be dangerous? No matter how understaffed this place was. I doubt that Angela would put me in danger. At least, not knowingly.

Had anyone disappeared lately? The only person who was here yesterday and wasn't today was Tyler, but Angela had said that he'd walked out mid-shift yesterday, not that he'd been killed or something.

I put the shirt back in the bottom of the pile and shoved the other clothes back on top, not able to contain my shivers. His other clothes went on top in hopefully the same order they were found. It was extremely likely that, because Edward took extra care in keeping his clothes neat, he would notice any change in the organization of his dirty basket. I didn't want him to know that someone was rooting through his things; I was ashamed.

I swiftly moved away and loaded two more people's washing in other machines, after loading the tumble dryer with the wet clothes.

On my way back to Angela's office, I stopped by my own room to have a little lie-down. I didn't bother to kick off my shoes as I rested my head against the pillow hearing the crumple of the file right by my ears. I was extremely tempted to open it up now, but I refused to; Edward had already told me a bit about his story, as well as Angela telling me that he had spent time in prison. If in only waited a while, I was sure Edward would open up more and tell me everything, which was the proper way to do things, I thought. I mean, I would rather keep things civil with him, rather than go behind his back.

I had such double standards.

Getting up, I headed up and out of my room. I didn't feel like resting any more; it gave me time to think about Edward and how I'd abused his trust in the laundry room and how he had blood on his shirt and why nobody seemed to know anything about it but me.

Angela greeted me and sent me off to make people's beds, but not before telling me that in a few days time the psychiatrist would make his biweekly visit and that I'd be allowed to sit in on a few meetings.

The rest of the day went by without incident. I helped with the preparation of dinner, once I had told Angela that I wasn't bad at cooking. Cooking for 50+ people was a major challenge for me, but I had Mike to help me out. He was . . . enthusiastic, to say the least, but I guessed that wasn't too bad when there were things to do.

"Hey, Bella," Mike called from behind me, on the other side of the kitchen. "Am I doing this right?" I rolled my eyes and turned around, forcing a patient smile onto my face. Walking over to him, I could see him mashing the potatoes perfectly. His sleeves were rolled up so that I could see the muscles in his arms contract and relax as he pounded the potatoes with vigor.

"Yes. That's fine." He looked back and me and flashed me a wide grin that reminded me so much of Jake a couple of years ago. Frankly, it made me uncomfortable. "Hurry up," I said, "There are loads more things to do before my shift ends."

There were only about thirty minutes left on the clock. It was an insanely long shift, from nine in the morning to six in the evening. My hours were going to be very tiring, but I got to have Sunday's off, as well as a few weeks worth of holidays per year. The money wasn't really all that bad, especially as Jake and I'd found our little cottage at a really low price compared to the houses and apartments in Port Angeles. If the worse came to the worse, I had a room here to stay in the Home, which was one of the benefits of working here. To be honest, the work here wasn't even strenuous.

I finished chopping the vegetables and put the pot on the hob, salting and stirring before turning to the industrial oven which held the seventy-odd steaks I had marinated and cooked. Opening the huge door, I remembered just in time to move my face away from the wall of heat coming towards me. Smiling at the juicy smell, I mentally patted myself on the back for a job well done.

Angela walked in, trying to hide a yawn. It was obvious that she overworked herself; she managed everybody and everything in this place, which was pretty amazing considering the massive gaps we had here in staff. "Great job, Bella!" she beamed, "How about you do this everyday? You're much better than me at this anyway."

"I know," Mike piped up, still mashing away at those potatoes with those damned short sleeves. "She didn't even need to look at the recipe, she just went for it."

I blushed, twiddling my fingers in the apron I was wearing. "It's nothing. And sure, I could do this, I guess."

Angela clapped her hands together. I was starting to notice how she often did this, and I wondered whether it was a habit or whether she did it to keep herself awake. "That's great. You know, you should have told us before that you could cook." She looked at her wrist, noting the time. "Well, it's about time for you to go home now. I hope today was okay?"

I nodded, removing the apron. "Yeah, it was great, no worries."

"Well, if you want you could take some of this food home with you. It'd be stupid for you to have to cook twice. We have some Tupperware in that cupboard behind you."

"Really?" I asked. "Thanks. Can I take some home for Jake?"

Mike turned around, a puzzled, disappointed look on his face. I inwardly danced; now he got the message to leave me the hell alone.

"Of course," Angela said.

I smiled and grabbed a container, filling it with some potatoes, steak and vegetables enough for Jake and me to eat. Mike and Angela waved their goodbyes to me as I headed out, and on the way to the exit Emmett patted me on the back and thanked me for relieving Angela of the cooking duties. Jess had already gone home and it was getting quite dark as I walked to my truck, opened her up, got inside and started the engine.

Her loud roar was reassuring. I felt freaking bulletproof when I was in my Chevy. The drive home was pleasant; I blared out some Paramore on the short journey. By now, Jake was home, so I parked and knocked on the door, too lazy to root in my back for my keys.

He opened the door and we kissed briefly across the porch. I shoved the Tupperware into his hands and told him to put the microwave to good use while I went and took a bath.

Dinner was nice. Jake set the table as best he could and we sat down on the little table.

"How was your day, babe?" he asked warily, shoving a spoon of vegetables down his throat with the elegance of a warthog.

"It was great. Tyler left, so he's not a problem anymore."

"Great." He paused. "Did you cook this?"

"Yeah. My boss let me cook." It felt weird to refer to Angela as my boss, but she was.

"For the whole place?" He looked pretty impressed.

"Yep," I said, between mouthfuls. "And she told me I could cook dinner everyday instead of doing some other duties. I'm allowed to take food home, too." Jake pretended to pout. "What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in a playful way.

"I like seeing you cook at home. Seeing your sexy ass wiggling as you stir turns me the fuck on." He gave me a grin and a wink, and I was instantly reminded of Mike.

I cringed.

"You okay?" Jake asked, all hints of joking washed from his face and replaced with a genuine care.

"Yeah, fine."

"Good. On Saturday, I'm cooking, though. I wanna talk to you." He grinned again, wide as anything, and I had the sense to hide my grimace this time.

I washed up, letting Jake take a shower or whatever the hell he did in the bathroom after dinner. I was so tired after the long day at work, I felt like just going to sleep early.

Jake emerged and walked to the little living room, gesturing to the TV remote as if to ask me if I wanted to watch something. I shook my head, mumbling how I just wanted to go to bed early tonight. He smiled and walked towards me, reaching out to drag a clumsy finger down my face, before pulling me to the bedroom. When we got there, instead of just letting me get into bed, he pushed me against the wall, pressing his body against mine.

"Bella, I love you so fucking much," he whispered, hot breath at my ear, his words mushing into each other in an incoherent fashion. I smiled, putting my arms around his neck and pulling him closer to me, feeling how he sported a semi for me and giggling. He moved his neck down so he could kiss me on the lips. It was not only hot breath now, it was hot kisses, and I moaned as he deepened them, running his hands down my sides.

"Not any more."

"What?" I mumbled, pulling away from Jake's eager lips and looking at him, trying to find out what he'd said.

"What?" he breathed back, moving his sloppy kisses down to my neck, grinding his hips into my belly, moaning into my skin as he got off on me. He nibbled gently on my sensitive skin, knowing how I bruised easily and making sure he was careful.

"I'll know," I heard. My eyes snapped open and looked sown at the chopped locks of Jakes hair, moving in time with what I was feeling.

"What did you say?" I grunted between shallow breaths trying to pull him up to face me. He fought against me, still suckling and nibbling at my neck.

He pulled away briefly. "Din't say anything, babe," he said, words mushing again, too lost in what he was doing to properly articulate his speaking. I leaned back as he slipped a hand under my shirt, fondling my breast as he continued to rub himself onto me.

"I'll fucking know if he fucks you, Bella."

I froze. Edward. His voice was stern, reminding me of who he thought I belonged to, a silent or else lingering in my brain.

"Jake," I hissed urgently, trying to push him off of me. "Jake!"

"Yeah, babe," he moaned, oblivious, grabbing my breast tighter. "So sexy, babe,"

I groaned, gathering strength to pull him away from me. He still wouldn't budge. I cursed under my breath.

"Jake, get off," I grunted, trying again to detatch him from me.

"Mmhmm, babe. You getting off, too?" His tongue lapped at my neck, making me squirm, and I pinched him, hard, at his nape.

He pulled off me, clapping his hand to the back of his neck, frowning at me. "What the hell, Bella?"

"I told you to get off me, Jacob. I want to go to sleep. I'm tired." I could feel Jake's saliva on my skin and shivered as cold air hit it. Walking to my side of the bed, I ignored Jake and lay down.

I couldn't have sex with Jake. Not now. Not with Edward's threat ringing in my ears, bouncing off the walls of my mind. I didn't doubt for a second that Edward would know what I did with him. Perhaps I was just paranoid, but for all I knew, he could be right outside the window of this little cottage bungalow, watching me.

[A/N]

Don't worry guys. I am still alive and breathing. Thanks for all the kind emails. What I've gone through this past month is a mixture of writer's block and family issues, mixed in with examinations.

The onlt thing that has really kept me going were all of your emails and reviews and whatnot. Without them, I'm sure this chapter would've taken another few weeks to get here, I love you all so fucking much!

Chapters are steadily getting longer and longer. You're welcome.

And don't worry, I will finish this. It may take longer than I hope but I will finish this son of a bitch. Pinky promise.

I did laugh quite a bit when I wrote the ending. Oh, Jacob, you are such a douche.

Reviews motivate me, and will save Kate and Will's babies. Trust me.

rita263
2011-05-01 . chapter 10

Gezz! Edward is really scary! This isn't a HEA story right? I can't image Edward not being a nutjob!