Chapter 9

Angela took the proffered book from Carlisle and smiled as she bit her lip. She watched him disappear from the room again as she looked down at the first edition book, running her fingertips lightly over the well cared for leather binding with reverence. She was careful, her movements slow and painfully cautious as she opened the cover. Her eyes were wide, her expression disbelieving as she looked down upon the title page. The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe: First edition published 1721.

She couldn't tear her eyes from the book. Was she really seeing this? Was she truly holding the very first edition of a book she had fallen in love with a few years ago? Carlisle had seen her reading the reprinted paperback of the edition she owned a few times over the course of the past month and had asked if her book was borrowed. When she had told him that she had purchased her edition brand new almost six years ago, but read it so many times it looked old, he had disappeared with a smile that she hadn't understood…until now.

She sat on the couch inside his home office looking at the book he had placed in her hands and wondered if he had any idea just what it meant to her that he was letting her look at it, letting her hold it. Looking up when he stepped back into the room, she found him to be holding a plate of food and a glass of orange juice in his hands. He was a vampire, he didn't eat human food, she thought. He smiled at her in amusement as he set down the plate and glass on his desk, knowing that the girl on the couch hadn't seen Edward standing just outside of the open door.

"The book is yours, Angela," Carlisle said as he leaned back against the edge of his desk and studied her with a smile.

"What?" Angela looked up at him, surely he couldn't mean what she thought he meant.

"I'm not simply letting you look at it, my dear. I'm giving it to you."

Carlisle watched Angela's eyes widen in disbelief as she looked from him down to the book in her hands and then back up to meet his gaze. Her mouth moved, her brows quirked, but no sound came from her lips. He saw tears glisten in her brown eyes and watched as she bit her lip before shaking her head.

"Are you serious?" she finally asked, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"Yes," he smiled at her, his golden eyes sparkling.

No one had ever cared this much before. No one had ever taken the time to notice what she was reading or how the condition of her book told of how often she read it. She practically had the book memorized, she'd read it so often, but still she would read through the pages again and again. He wasn't just commenting on how often she read the book, he was giving her a first edition copy that was so well cared for over the years it still looked brand new. His gift of the book left her speechless, moved her to tears, and though she wanted to tell him what it meant words failed her completely.

"Thank you, Papa," she said staring down at the book only to freeze in place when she realized what she said.

Carlisle was struck silent by the familial term she'd used, not having heard it since she had uttered it almost two weeks ago when she was too tired to know she'd been speaking. A slow smile turned his lips up at the warmth of feeling that flooded through him. He loved that she called him that, but when he noticed her stillness and watched her look up at him with wide fear filled eyes, he frowned in concern. What had happened? Why was she suddenly so afraid? He pushed away from the desk, standing up fully as he glanced at Edward quickly without turning his head. His son was grinding his teeth, looking as though he desired to break something and Carlisle looked back to Angela.

"I-I'm sorry," she said quickly and he shook his head, the movement barely noticeable to her human eyes. "I shouldn't have…I didn't mean to show any disrespect, Dr. Cullen, I - "

"Angela, come here," he interrupted her frightened apology, holding out his hand for her to take. "Come here," he said again, his voice soothing when she failed to move.

Her breathing was rapid, unsteady and she winced as she set the book aside carefully and stood. Taking his hand slowly, she looked down at the floor, surprised when he drew her into his arms and held her close. Carlisle stroked her hair slowly, speaking softly to her, his voice soothing her as she felt a sense of complete safety wash over her chasing her fear away. He leaned back just enough to see her eyes, cupping her face in his hands and smoothing the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks. Kissing her forehead, he promised her that he wasn't upset and pulled her back against his chest, encouraging her to rest her head against his shoulder.

"You can call me 'Papa' anytime you like," he told her, his soft voice next to her ear.

Angela breathed in sharply, her hands clutching his shirt, fisting the fabric in a tight hold as the first aching sob broke free. Carlisle held her close, soothing her as she cried and looked over her head to Edward. Jasper had joined his brother at the door, the southern vampire's attention focused solely on Angela and Carlisle met Edward's fierce gaze, his own golden eyes heavy with concern. She was trembling in his arms, the feel of it both confusing and upsetting to him as he held her tight and stroked her hair. He made his thoughts clear to Edward that he would be talking with him once Angela was calmed and his telepathic son nodded.

Carlisle could feel Angela tiring quickly, her lack of sleep due to her migraines and the fear that still plagued her because of her stalker draining on her, but he couldn't let her fall asleep just yet. She needed to eat, she still had yet to reach what he would consider to be a healthy weight for a girl of her height and he leaned her back gently, rubbing his hands over her arms as he smiled at her. Promising her that he would return shortly, he handed her the plate and glass before leading her back to sit on the couch and instructing her to eat. Jasper moved up to take his place and Carlisle nodded his thanks to his adoptive son, watching as Jasper sat next to her on the couch before he left the room.

Following Edward down the hall and into the kitchen, Carlisle watched the tight way with which his son held himself. His posture was enough to tell him that his son was greatly displeased by whatever he had read from Angela's thoughts and he wanted to know what had happened. Why had she been so afraid of him?

"She was so small, Carlisle," Edward said in answer to his father's worried thoughts. "She couldn't have been much older than five or six…" Edward turned his attention away from the back yard and turned around slowly to look at his father. "When she called you 'Papa', this memory flooded through her mind and she was absolutely terrified of your reaction."

"What happened?" he asked his son, needing to know the answer as much to understand her reaction as to also help the girl sitting in his office.

"She was happy about something, I'm not sure what, but she was trying to get her father's attention. God, she was so small," he breathed out both angry and deeply hurt by the memory he had witnessed in her mind. "She called him 'Daddy' three times and he…he backhanded her so hard that he cut her face and knocked her to the floor. Her father," Edward struggled to say the word, the familial term leaving a bad taste in his mouth when he thought of the man, "told her to never speak to him with such disrespect again. She didn't understand what she had done and called him 'Daddy' again and he…hit her…again."

Carlisle felt the air forced from his lungs. He may not have needed to breathe, but the effect was still the same as he fell back against the counter behind him. He saw Esme and Rosalie step into the room from the corner of his eye, both women looking angry and shocked as they stared at Edward. Carlisle didn't even truly care for the idea of corporal punishment, but the thought of someone striking their own child in such a manner for doing that – for doing nothing turned his stomach.

"She was afraid I was going to hit her?" he asked Edward, his voice breathless and barely audible to his son, Edward hearing the question perfectly through his thoughts.

"I don't know that she truly believed you would hit her, but the fear was there. The memory kept looping through her mind; it drowned out every other thought she might have had. All I could read from her was that one memory," Edward said and looked through the room behind Carlisle as he listened to his brother's projected thoughts. "Jasper says that Angela's about ready to fall asleep. She didn't eat too much and she's still upset. She needs you."

Edward watched wordlessly as Carlisle stepped away from the counter and disappeared into the living room. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Carlisle walked to the hall closet and retrieved a quilt Esme had made within their first year of marriage. Carrying it with him back to his office, he nodded to Jasper and watched as his son gathered the dishes from Angela taking note of the half eaten sandwich. Stepping up to the couch as Jasper left the room, Carlisle sat down next to Angela and draped the heavy quilt over her shoulders. Wrapping the soft cloth around her slight frame, he draped his arm over her shoulders pulling her close to tuck her against his side.

Certain things about Angela's behavior were falling into place now and Carlisle did not like what he was learning. He had thought that her slips of calling him 'Dr. Cullen' and Esme 'Mrs. Cullen' were just due to the habitualness of good manners. To understand now that what he had believed to be manners had been taught through physical abuse angered and saddened him. Pressing a kiss to her dark hair, he lifted the first edition book he had gifted to her and held it in his hands as he turned to the first page of the story and began to read to her aloud.

As he read to her, he couldn't help but wonder how often she had been abused for similar things as a child. What had happened when she had first mentioned experiencing headaches to her parents? From the way she reacted to the pain, her steadfast refusal to show as little discomfort as possible, he doubted that it was just words her parents had used against her. Jasper had been driven to his knees more than once by the sheer magnitude of her migraines and was constantly doing everything he could to help her with her pain.

He felt her grow heavy against him as she neared sleep and he looked down to find that her eyes were barely open. Folding the book closed while leaving his index finger between the pages to keep his place, Carlisle shifted them both just enough so that he could lean back to lie against the arm of the couch, Angela's head pillowed on his chest. She was tucked between his body and the back of the couch, her hand appearing out of the top of the quilt folded around her to fist in the soft fabric of his shirt next to her face. She was nearly asleep, but still responsive enough that he could ask her a few questions and gain her answers without her remembering they'd spoken.

"Angela," Carlisle kept his voice soft and soothing as he spoke, lulling her into a peaceful state of semi consciousness, "why have you been so careful not to eat much?"

"I get sick," she answered, her eyes closed, her voice whisper quiet.

"Sick?" he repeated and stroked her hair. "How? Tell me how you get sick."

"Ever since I was about ten or eleven," she answered slowly, "if I get above one hundred fifteen pounds I get sick. I've been able to go as high as one hundred twenty before, but only once. I get sick for days until my weight drops back down," she told him as she sniffled and curled closer, yawning in her near sleep state.

"Go to sleep, Little One," he told her and tilted his head just enough to kiss her hair. "I'll take care of you."

Carlisle clenched his jaw as he looked at the ceiling above his head, wanting at once to both cry in agony for her and scream in rage. He knew why she would get sick, his recollection of her being brought to him after being given water laced with ipecac was irrevocably burned into his memory. It had nothing to do with her body not being able to handle the weight as she believed it to be, no, her sickness was caused by her parents. Those people, who were supposed to love, shelter, and protect her, had instead abused, neglected and endangered her. A girl of her height and bone structure should weigh no less than one hundred forty five pounds to be considered healthy. That her parents had kept her at one hundred fifteen pounds, enforcing the unhealthy weight through drugged water in order to make her believe that her body couldn't handle it was not only abusive, but it was also dangerously unhealthy.

"Papa," her voice was so soft that he doubted she was aware she was speaking.

"Yes, baby girl," he said as he rubbed his hand over her quilt covered arm.

"Will you read some more?" she asked her words a bit slurred and her tone of voice made him certain that she didn't have her eyes open.

"Of course," he said.

Hugging her close with the arm wrapped around her back he brought his hands together in order to open the book he still held. Carlisle read to her slowly, his voice smooth and gentle. He paused in his reading as he turned the page, looking up when he caught sight of Edward standing inside the room. His son knelt next to the couch, his golden eyes studying Angela's peaceful face as a soft expression of love and tenderness curved his lips up into a small smile.

"She's completely asleep," he told Carlisle, keeping his voice low.

He had never seen Carlisle in such a truly fatherly position before as he did now. The man was lying back on the suede sofa with Angela's quilt wrapped form tucked against his side, her head pillowed on his chest as she slept. Her hand was fisted in the fabric of his father's shirt, the tip of her nose touching the edge of her thumb. The thoughts coming from Carlisle were protective, loving, devoted and wholly paternal; his intent to offer the girl in his arms comfort and care while doing what he could to heal her soul were enough to silence Edward and make his heart burn with the brilliant warmth of the man's affection.

Jasper stepped into the room, his eyes affixed on the human girl sleeping in Carlisle's arms. The sense of peace and contentment that had overcome her when Carlisle had wrapped her in his arms and began reading to her was hypnotic. The way she felt, waves of safety and comfort flowing from her to him as she fell asleep were such a mirror opposite from the fear that she had felt earlier that day. Little by little, the loneliness and feelings of inadequacy that had been ever present were beginning to abate, being replaced instead by feelings of acceptance, comfort and happiness. There were times when he stayed as close to her as he could simply because of the new feelings growing within her, it was as though he were watching a flower sprout up from the earth in spring to bloom before his eyes.

"I know," Edward said softly to his brother, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Angela.

Carlisle looked between his sons, finding them both to be studying Angela and he ducked his chin to look at her face. She was still asleep, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips and he wondered just what it was that both his sons were reading from her. He tugged the quilt up around her shoulders, engulfing her completely in its warmth when she shivered. Cooler than normal temperatures for the summer in addition to the rain Forks was almost famous for had kept the weather outside in the low forties. Looking up from Angela when he remembered his sons were still in the room, he found them both to be grinning slightly. Jasper was the first to speak, his voice low making his soft Texan accent slightly more pronounced.

"It's amazing how much she loves that," Jasper told Carlisle, his lips tugging up at the corner. "The way you treat her like a daughter. The way you hold her, comfort her. I wasn't influencing her emotions earlier," he said in reference to her upset from before. "That was all you; I was just amazed by it. She was terrified and I could feel her desire to run, but as soon as you wrapped your arms around her…I always thought that I was the only one who could calm someone so easily."

"When the migraine medicine doesn't work," Edward said, drawing his father's attention. "Esme will sit with her and read to her, or Emmett will hold her and tell her stories about his human years. She loves it, she treasures those moments. She's still scared though, she's afraid we'll turn her away."

"We'll never turn her away," Esme's voice sounded from the doorway and she smiled down on her husband when she saw him on the couch. "She's part of this family now."

"Yes, but in all the memories that I have been able to see from her, all of the thoughts," Edward shook his head and sighed. "She may have parents, but she never had a family. That first morning she was here," Edward said as he looked up at Esme who was standing by the arm of the couch that pillowed Carlisle's head. "When you made her breakfast, do you remember how odd you thought it was that she looked like she might cry?" Esme nodded quietly. "No one had ever done that before. It wasn't just the food either, it was the way you laid it out, the way you encouraged her sit down and eat. You made her feel cared about, wanted and she had never felt that before."

"She didn't eat very much," Esme said as she thought back on that morning. "Was she too upset?"

"No."

It was Carlisle who answered her question, his deep sigh telling of his worry and displeasure. He sat up slowly, taking care to move without disturbing her sleep. He cradled her in his arms, held her in his lap as Esme moved to sit beside him on the couch. Looking down into Angela's sleeping face; he tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up at Esme.

"Over the years, her parents have convinced her that her body cannot handle being over one hundred fifteen pounds," he said, his voice silently reproachful. "They did this by giving her water laced with ipecac whenever they deemed her heavy. She never knew the water was tainted. All she ever knew was that when she would put on a few pounds she would become horribly sick until her weight dropped back down."

"Heavy?" Esme repeated the word with a shake of her head. "She's so thin, too thin."

"She is roughly thirty pounds under what her weight should be for someone of her height. She has been careful not to eat too much as she doesn't want to get sick."

Angela stirred slightly, her fisted hand opening and releasing her grip on his shirt as she rubbed her eye. Carlisle watched her move, a soft fatherly glow in his butterscotch eyes. She didn't wake, but she did curl closer and nuzzle her face against his shoulder as she fell into a deeper sleep with her hand resting open against his chest near her cheek. He would protect her in any way he could.

"And so will we," Edward said in answer to his father's thoughts.

Carlisle stood slowly and turned, laying Angela gently on the couch and smiling at the throw pillow Esme brought to him from the living room. Tucking it beneath Angela's head, he brought the end of the quilt up beneath her chin before leaving her to rest. Stepping out of his office, he waited for his family to follow and moved to the living room. The front door opened as Emmett and Alice stepped into the house with a few boxes and bags held in their arms.

"Carlisle," Alice spoke his name as she stepped up to him and held out a postcard to him. "This was in her mail. How do we tell her about this?"

Wrapping his arm around Esme's waist as he held her to his side, Carlisle took the card from Alice's hand, his brow quirking as he studied the picture on the front. The white stylized writing on the front was Spanish and as he looked closer, he realized that he recognized the landscape: it was the rolling mountains of Belize. Flipping the card over, he read through the short message written by her parents, the script half cursive half print telling him it was most likely her mother who had transcribed the note. He shook his head, angered and saddened by the words.

On June fifteenth you will be seventeen and more than old enough to take care of yourself. As today is May fifteenth, you have one month. We will be returning soon and will expect that all of your things will be moved out of the house.

Rev. and Mrs. Weber

After everything that they had already done, already put her though, her parents were now throwing her out. If she hadn't been brought over for the girl's night a little more than six weeks ago, she would've been homeless. Turning his head when he heard Edward growl, he looked at his son and nodded to affirm the thoughts he'd read before handing him the postcard. Esme placed her hand on Carlisle's chest, drawing his attention to her as she stared up at him.

"She already has a room here, Carlisle. She has a home with us," Esme told him, knowing he had already made his decision.

Wrapping his other arm around his wife, Carlisle nodded and tipped his head down to kiss her. He already considered Angela his daughter. In the short time since she had come into their lives, he had accepted her without question and so had the rest of his family. He watched Emmett set down the box he'd been holding before moving across the room.

"Hey, half pint," Emmett greeted Angela, wrapping his arm around her waist. "You ok?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded tiredly and he chuckled.

Esme watched as the girl rubbed a hand over her stomach and grimaced. The knowledge of what Carlisle had told them all earlier, that Angela didn't eat very much because she was afraid of being sick, made her realize that the girl was most likely still hungry. She hadn't eaten to her fill, she had only eaten just enough to keep herself somewhat fed. Stepping up to her son, she smiled at the drowsy girl tucked into his side and looked up at Emmett.

"She needs food," Esme told him, "something fattening and teenager. You need to make certain she eats more than just a few bites."

Smiling when Emmett chuckled quietly, Esme looked down and smiled. It didn't surprise her one bit that Angela didn't seem to hear her, the girl was practically asleep again. Emmett nodded and looked down at Angela, speaking her name to draw her attention. When she looked up at him, he grasped her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder, laughing at her surprised shriek.

"Emmett!" she laughed at him. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you out to put some meat on your bones," he answered and turned to Edward. "Call Bells, have her meet us at the pizza parlor."

"Don't worry," Edward told Esme with a shake of his head and a chuckle after Emmett disappeared out the front door. "She adored that. She loves his goofy big brother antics – her words not mine."

Jasper's brow furrowed as he looked at his wife. The emotions coming from her were confusing to say the least. She was angry, restless, sad, and incredibly determined. Opening the box that Emmett had set down, she took out a large black photo album and handed it to Carlisle and Esme, her expression unreadable.

"Look through that," Alice demanded as Carlisle took the book from her hands. "Tell me what's missing."

Frowning at the almost harsh tone of his usually happy daughter's voice, he opened the photo album and with Esme by his side, they both looked through it. Page after page was filled with pictures of her parents, their travels, native people they'd met as well as friends they traveled with. Near the middle of the book there were pictures of her mother pregnant and one picture of her holding a blanket wrapped infant. As he turned the next page, there were pictures of Forks, of the church her father was a pastor at, but there were no pictures of Angela. There were no pictures of children at all. Aside from the two photos of her mother late in her pregnancy and the one of her holding Angela as a newborn infant, it was as though the girl didn't exist.

"Was there another album, or a baby book?" Esme asked as Carlisle closed the photo album.

"No," Alice said, her voice holding tightly controlled rage. "There was nothing aside from Angela's room that denoted her existence. I even looked through her parents' bedroom. It was as though they didn't want to be reminded that they had a child. Who does that?" her question came out with a growl.

Jasper focused on Alice, understanding her rage but also feeling the need to calm her. She looked back at him and he could feel the hurt she felt for Angela, the unfairness of it all. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he pulled her close and tightened his embrace when she clutched at the back of his shirt and buried her face in his chest. Dropping his head to kiss her hair, he looked up at Carlisle.

"You know how we all feel about Angela. You've heard Alice's vision and you've told us of your research and the medical certainty that she will not live to see twenty," Jasper said loosening his arms as Alice moved to stand tucked against his side. "If you had any question before about our acceptance of her, then let me be the one to tell you that there is no question."

"She is part of this family," Rosalie said, repeating Esme's words from earlier that day.

Carlisle nodded slowly, acknowledging his family's words. He wasn't certain how best to tell Angela of the news, but he knew it would be best to do so alone with Esme. He told his children that they should go hunting when Emmett and Edward came home. Moving toward the box that Alice had taken the photo album from, he replaced it inside and covered it with the lid before carrying it up the stairs. Perhaps looking at her books would give him a better insight into how best to begin the conversation.

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Carlisle looked at Esme as Angela walked into his office carrying her laptop in her arms. He had known that she would slip inside as quietly as possible and settle on the couch, as she always did when he left the door open. He watched as she sat down and opened the computer, running her finger over the optical track pad to bring the monitor back to life. He watched her eyes move over the screen, reading whatever she was looking at, before she began typing. Biting her lip, her brows furrowed and she shook her head truly appearing to be confused by whatever she was working on.

"Can I help?" Carlisle asked as he moved the chair in front of his desk to face her and sat down.

"Maybe," Angela said slowly before looking up from the computer. "Do you read Gaelic? I'm not sure if it's the Irish or Scottish dialect."

Chuckling and nodding, Carlisle moved to sit next to her. "I read and speak both," he told her with a smile. "What are you working on?" he asked as he took the proffered computer.

"A…birthday present of sorts," she admitted with a blush.

Carlisle looked over the information on the page and as he read through the Gaelic text he discovered that it was a history of the McCarty clan dating back from eighteen sixty three, the year before his grandfather had moved from Scotland to sixteen thirteen, the earliest dating of the first McCarty clan in the highlands of Scotland. The pages had been emailed to her, copies of texts that were handwritten and well cared for.

"Angela, what is all this?" he asked with curiosity and watched as she shrugged.

"Emmett tells me stories all the time of his family from when he was human and the way he talks about them…I kind of wanted to give them back to him in a way. I already traced his family's history after he… died and found currently living nieces and nephews, but I thought I'd trace it back as well…My job, I'm a virtual correspondence research assistant for a historian, Dr. Jamison and when I get started on a project I just tend to go all in. I don't even know if he'll like it, but I thought I'd trace through what I could."

"He'll love this," Carlisle said with reverence. "I'll translate these for you tonight."

Standing up, Carlisle set the laptop on his desk before returning to the couch as Esme took her seat in the chair that he had pulled close to her. The expressions on their faces told her that whatever they wanted to talk about wasn't good and she honestly wasn't sure she wanted to know. The only thing she could think of was that she may have done something to upset them. She only hoped that she hadn't over stayed her welcome.

"I have been trying to find a way to tell you about this since Emmett and Alice brought your things here," Carlisle said with reluctant sigh. "I wish I had a better way to tell you, but I don't," he said and handed the postcard to Angela. "Alice found it among your mail when they went to your house."

They watched as she looked at the card, turned it over and read the words. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the words again and again. Her face paled, her eyes filled with tears as she was left with a sense of aching dread. Her parents wanted her to leave; the Cullens had been so kind to her already, she didn't have the heart to ask them for more. She was certain that the room they had made for her was only to be used on occasion; she hadn't ever thought that they meant to give her a permanent home. Where would she go? What would she do?

"They brought back a few boxes of books and clothes. Esme and I thought that you should look through what they brought back and see if there's anything they missed that you wanted," Carlisle told her gently and Angela looked up sharply with a confused shake of her head.

"What?" she had expected them to talk with her about finding another place to live or to kick her out, but what he said? "Carlisle, what are you saying?"

"Nothing we haven't said before," he told her, Edward's revelation of her thoughts and memories and the review of the photo album giving him a good idea as to what she was thinking. "You are part of this family, Angela. You have a place here with us and in this house."

They wanted her to stay? They were offering her a permanent home with them? She nodded shakily as the tears that had filled her eyes spilled over and she leaned into his welcomed embrace. Their hug turned into a triple embrace as Esme knelt down in front to wrap her arms around them both. She had found a home, a true family, and the acceptance and love she had always thought were just out of her reach. The warmth of their love and the love she felt for them burned through her as beautiful and delicate as the sunrise.

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Angela ran into her bedroom, leaving the door partway open even as climbed onto her bed and choked back a sob. She didn't want to talk about this; she didn't want to think about it at all. Folding her arms over her stomach as she hugged herself tightly, Angela pulled her feet up as she scooted as far back against the headboard of her bed as she could and folded her legs against her chest, burying her face in her knees. Why did they want to talk about this? What did it matter? After all, she had been the one at fault; they wouldn't have done what they did if she hadn't deserved it, would they? Feeling a cool touch on her jean clad leg, Angela looked up into Esme's warm golden eyes, the kindness in her expression offering her love and affection.

"We only want to help you, Sweetheart," Esme told her gently as Carlisle sat down on the other side of the bed opposite his wife.

"Angela," Carlisle's voice was soft, soothing her even as he pushed for more. "It's not just about helping you past what you went through, but it's also about helping you with your migraines. There's very little information regarding your early experiences."

Angela shook her head miserably, biting her lip as she looked down at her legs folded up against her chest. A part of her knew that the question had began as a simple clinical query, but when he had asked about the earliest migraine she could remember – her very first experience and what treatment she had been given – it had set her into a mild state of panic. She remembered Carlisle asking her down in his office about her first migraine, his question innocent, but all the same she had turned and ran from the room. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to remember. Couldn't they just forget her earlier migraines?

"You are safe here, Angela," Carlisle promised her as he held out his hand, waiting patiently until she placed her shaking hand in his palm. "I promise you that you're safe here," he told her as he held her hand and looked into her eyes.

Closing her eyes against the pain of memories she wished she could forget; Angela nodded. She half wished Edward was there so that she could just think the answers and wouldn't have to give voice to them. Having to speak the answers, actually talk about the way her parents treated her made it seem all the more real. Edward wouldn't be coming in to read her thoughts though; Carlisle had asked the others to go hunting, to let him and Esme speak to her alone. He had told her that he thought it would be easier for her if she didn't have a large audience.

"When did your first migraine onset?" Carlisle asked her again.

His voice was gentle and patient. Moving closer to her by an inch or two, he watched the emotions play across her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. Cupping her face in his palm, he chaffed the pad of his thumb over the curve of her cheek and encouraged her to meet his gaze. She was breathing harshly, trying not to cry and bit her lip between her teeth as she looked up at him slowly. Leaning forward, Carlisle pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, reaffirming to her his silent promise of protection.

"It was two weeks before my ninth birthday," she began slowly, trying her best not withdraw into herself or runaway as all of her instincts were telling her to. "The pain was pretty severe; there wasn't any build up or warning. One moment I was fine and the next…It was a Friday night, my parents were hosting a dinner party for people who they used to travel with. I was supposed to stay in my room, no one was supposed to see me, but the pain wouldn't go away. She was setting the table for it when I told her about my migraine."

Angela's voice drifted off as she tightened her hand around his fingers and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She didn't want to remember. Carlisle's thumb rubbed lightly over the backs of her bent fingers as Esme's arm wrapped around her waist. She leaned into the woman's side without opening her eyes, trying desperately not to let the fear overtake her. Esme's melodic voice was quiet, loving as she offered her comfort, promising her safety as she stroked her hair.

"She told me to stop playing around," Angela said slowly and sniffled as tears burned behind her eyes. "But it hurt so much that I couldn't see straight. I couldn't focus on anything…Someone told me to be quiet, I didn't know I was crying," she said, her voice an apologetic whimper as she looked to Carlisle, her eyes begging him to understand that she hadn't meant to cause trouble.

"Go on," he encouraged her, turning her hand in his as he rubbed his thumb over the inside of her wrist.

Angela sniffled, a single tear running down her cheek. "There's this…closet in the basement."

Esme breathed in sharply and looked to her husband with wide mournful eyes. She had a feeling that she knew what the girl was going to say. A large part of her wanted to spare Angela the pain of the memory, even as her logical side knew that in order to heal and move past her experiences she had to talk about them.

"I asked my mom to make the pain stop, to do something anything to make it stop hurting. I remember being knocked to the floor and told to stop acting like a fool and then…" she took in a deep shaking breath. She didn't want to say more, but Carlisle had asked her and she didn't want to upset him or Esme by refusing to answer. "I was locked in the closet; I think it was my mom who did it. The door was the kind that only opened from the outside and there wasn't any light inside of it. I couldn't stand up all the way and it was cold. It was hard to breathe in there; the only place that air came in was through a little crack by the hinge near the floor."

Angela shivered against the chill of her memory. She didn't want to talk anymore; she didn't want to admit to being bad. Her eyes snapped open when she felt Carlisle shift his weight and feared that he was leaving her. She watched as he grasped the thick quilt hanging over the arm of the chair near the bed and turned back to her, his expression compassionate and understanding as he wrapped her in the copious folds of the hand stitched blanket.

"How long were you locked in the closet?" he asked her as he watched Esme bring Angela's hair out from under the quilt.

"I think they must've forgotten that I was in there because when the door opened, I was told to go take a shower and get ready for school. It was Monday."

"They kept you in that closet for over two days?" Esme asked, her voice a mix of anger, disbelief and sorrow.

Angela nodded without meeting her gaze. "They usually locked me in my room when they had their dinner parties, but I was making too much noise. It just hurt too much, I didn't know I was crying, I just knew that I was in pain."

They would see now, wouldn't they? They would see whatever her parents had seen. Her breathing grew harsher, faster as her heart sped in a wild staccato rhythm in her chest. She had finally found a family, a real family, she didn't want to leave them but she knew that they would now see whatever her parents had seen. She was bad and evil wasn't she? There had to be something wrong with her for her parents to have done that.

Looking up, prepared to leave if they asked her to, she was surprised to see Carlisle watching her with concern. As soon as her eyes met his, he opened his arms to her and she choked on a wrenching sob as she fell against his chest. He moved her blanket wrapped form to sit in his lap and wrapped his arms tight around her as he rocked her slowly. Petting her hair, he soothed her with his words, comforted her as she cried against his chest. Bowing his head down over hers, Carlisle hugged her close and met Esme's eyes with his own.

"How many times did they lock you in that closet, Angela?" he asked her being sure to keep his voice soothing and quiet.

"A lot…I lost count," she finally said after a long moment of silence. "They would lock me in there until I stopped telling them that my head hurt. "

"And if you showed any physical signs of pain?" he asked her gently.

Angela curved her lips in over her teeth, biting down on the delicate flesh as she pressed her face against Carlisle's chest. She didn't want to say anymore, didn't want to have to hear their angry, demeaning words cycle through her mind. She felt Esme's hand on her arm, felt Carlisle press his lips against her hair as he held her closer.

"You are safe here, little one," he told her, rubbing her back to soothe the upset that was making her tremble.

"They…yelled at me. My mother…she told me that I was play-acting and told me to stop trying to get attention. No one wanted to look at or be near a misbehaving child."

"And your father?" Esme asked when Angela remained silent.

"He would…lecture me; I guess is the right term. I'm not a very religious person; it doesn't make a lot of sense to me. I look to history and sciences like anthropology and archaeology to find the answers to my questions about life. My father has always told me that any pain I may experience is only a deserving punishment for being blasphemous and disrespectful. No matter the medical evidence, he still believes that I'm making up the migraines."

Carlisle ground his teeth together in an effort to regain a sense of calm. How dare they treat her that way. Turning slowly and reaching out to Esme, he laid back upon the pillows, bringing Angela down with him. She rested her head on his chest as Esme curled up against her back and rubbed her hand down over her arm. The quilt was pulled out to its full length; the ends covering her feet as she was cocooned in the blanket.

She was so tired, barely able to keep her eyes open. Curling the large quilt tighter against herself, Angela burrowed deeper into Carlisle's arms and hid her face behind the blanket as she yawned. Her migraines often made it beyond impossible to sleep, but when she was held as she was now and made to feel so safe and cared for, sleep came unhindered.

"When I was twelve and got my first prescription, my parents told me that they were done catering to my whims. They left one night and I didn't see them again for six months. When they came back I was sick for three days straight and no matter how slowly I sipped at the water, I couldn't keep anything down."

Angela's voice drifted off and when Carlisle ducked his chin to look at her face, he found her to be asleep. Looking at Esme, he saw the same look of angry sorrow that he was certain was mirrored on his face. She had been abused, mentally and physically, neglected and left to fend for herself by people who had no business being parents. Because of their treatment of her she was constantly afraid that she would be asked to leave by him or his family and all any of them could do was assure her over and over that that wouldn't happen. She was part of their family now, she was a Cullen in spirit if not in name and family meant everything to them.