Chapter 10
Disclaimer: So, I don't own anything Twilight related...yeah.
WARNING: Sensitive Subject Matter Discussed Within
Upon awakening Bella came to the conclusion that she had been wrong to ignore Alice's advice. Clearly she was not at home. Neither Charlie nor Renee was there when she awoke to hug and kiss her. She wasn't surrounded by cards from friends or police waiting to question her about what had happened and she still wasn't in her own bed and this was not her room.
The setting had changed though. She was no longer in the bedchamber she'd inhabited for however long it had been. There was a double glass doors and a balcony here. The layout of this room was similar to that of the other though the atmosphere felt different. The air was no longer heavy with dry heat; rather, it felt fresh and cool. It was a nice change. The warmth had seemed arid, a nearly foreign concept for Bella. She remembered visiting her mother in Phoenix the climate had never felt comfortable to her. She was too used to the cold wet days of Forks, WA.
So, what did she know? She knew she was no longer in Barcelona and from what Alice had told her before the latest drugging she was on her own. She wouldn't have a friend to rely on. There was no one left.
No one was coming to save her and she couldn't save herself. Was it possible to live like this? As a captive?
Bella didn't think so, not for her anyway. Perhaps there were people brave enough to face whatever life threw at them, but she wasn't like that. She wasn't brave, not at all and this was most terrifying thing that had ever happened to her. She couldn't take it any longer. She couldn't live this way.
Of all the things she'd thought of, of all the ideas she'd had, this was the only sure fire way of escape. As far as she was concerned there were no other options. She couldn't continue to live the life she was being forced into, it was intolerable. There was no one left to miss her; Alice obviously didn't care as much as she'd thought she did, her parents probably already thought her dead and Edward...
Well, maybe he would miss her, but that was exactly the problem. He had no right! No right to know her well enough to miss her when she was gone. He'd taken her from her home with no thought of the consequences and shoved her into a nightmare all in the name of his 'love' for her. Love was not like that. If he'd really loved her he would have wanted her to be happy, if he'd really known her he would have understood that it was impossible for her to be happy with him like this. He did love her in his way, but it wasn't the right kind of love. Maybe if they had been brought together under different circumstances it would have been possible. Perhaps if he'd reintroduced himself in a more sociable, normal way, but he hadn't.
There was no chance of her escaping, not in Alaska. Who knew how far away the closest neighbor was?
And so now there was only one choice left.
"Only chance left," she muttered to herself as she stared blankly into the mirror of the vanity. She didn't even remember getting out of the bed.
She would be the coward she knew she was. She would hurt everyone for the sake of running away because she couldn't take the hand dealt her.
He was taking food up to her, sure that she would be hungry. There were only a few staff members in the house but of course one of them was a cook. Edward had been careful in his selection of care takers. They had to keep their silence.
Stopping on the staircase he stood silently for a moment, wondering how she was going to react. Perhaps she'd throw something at him, or yell and scream. He hadn't done the right thing. This wasn't right, he shouldn't have taken her.
Was there a way to fix this? Could he repair the damage he'd done?
That was something to be considered, very carefully considered. There had to be a way to give her what she needed. He'd been selfish and callous and now he had to make it right.
His next course of action decided, Edward continued on to Bella's bedroom. He found her sitting in a chair at the small writing desk. After placing the food in front of her he took a step back so as to be out of hitting range.
"I'm—I'm not feeling very well," she pushed the tray away.
A frown made it's way on to his face, that wasn't what he'd been expecting. Then again, when had Bella ever done what he expected her to do? "Are you sure? I wish you would at least try."
She shook her head. "It'll only come back up."
With a sigh he removed the tray and began to make his way toward the door, ready to begin planning for his next venture. The giving back of Bella Swan.
Hesitantly she called out to him, "Edward?"
He stopped and turned to face her. "Yes, Bella?"
"I just wanted to tell you that...I'm sorry."
He frowned in confusion. "Sorry? Why love?"
"I just am okay? I'm sorry."
"Alright," his brows knitted together. "Lay down please, if you don't feel well. I'll be back in an hour or so to check on you." He watched carefully as she situated herself on the bed. "Bella are you sure that you're alright?"
She chose her words carefully, "I will be."
As he closed the door behind him Edward felt as though he'd missed something extremely important in the conversation. A feeling of unease settled around him and though he did his best to shake the sudden apprehension it refused to leave him.
There wasn't much time, just an hour, and he would be back. Maybe less than that if he suspected that something was off about her.
Slowly she pulled the steak knife she'd taken from the plate from inside her sleeve. He would notice that, or someone else would and he'd be back. She had to do it before then.
"I have to," Bella said aloud. "I have to."
The pain pills she'd taken were already making her sleepy, by now she was nearly certain that she would feel almost nothing. That was the only part of the plan that frightened her, the pain. But that was temporary.
Bella went to the balcony beyond the glass doors. It wasn't snowing just then, but everything looked fresh and new. She glanced down at the cold, serrated blade in her hand, quickly looking away again. She didn't want to watch.
She pressed the metal to her wrist. Feeling her skin open was strange, it didn't hurt, but it felt odd. She could feel the flesh detach, she could feel the warm liquid leaving her veins and running down her fingers. She then did the same to the other wrist.
The smell of fresh blood made her dizzy so she knelt, laying her heavy head down on the cool stone of the balcony's railing. She stared at the snow covered grounds between the posts that held up the railing. It would be the last thing she ever looked upon. Her eyes were growing heavy and black spots sprouted before her, blocking the pretty scene. It wasn't so terrible to die this way, much better than what had awaited her had she chosen to continue living. Better to die free than live as a captive.
Slowly she allowed her eyes to close and soon there was nothing but perfect darkness. She could feel herself floating away, becoming numb to all sensations. There was nothing here to see, to hear, or to feel. Soon she would be free from her captor. Soon she would be free from her prison.
She slipped sideways falling into unconsciousness and hitting the ground with a rough 'thump'.
Something was horribly wrong. He didn't know what it was, but he felt it. The blackest sort of dread filled him as he made his way back to Bella's room. It had only been fifteen minutes since he'd left her and the entire time he'd felt as though a dark shadow were following just behind him.
Unlocking the door he gave the room a quick once over. She wasn't there. He checked the bathroom, the wardrobe, even under the bed. Perhaps she'd gone to stand on the terrace...
What he saw brought him instantly to the edge of madness. Tears filled his eyes, his breathing accelerated and his heart rate tripled.
His sobs filled the room, his anguished cries were the only sound to be heard. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, his mind seemed to be stuck on the image of his beloved lying still and cold. Bloodied from her self-inflicted wounds. The foul sticky, red substance had gushed from her wrists, flooding the narrow space between herself and the edge of the balcony; it had dripped the forty feet downward and onto the snow below. Staining it. It had pooled around her limp head, matting her hair as she laid motionlessly. Her breathing was faint and labored, her pulse weak.
Entering the room that he'd hoped they would one day share, hoping to sooth his irrational fears, only to find his apparently very unwilling lover sprawled on the terrace and bleeding to death was one incident he was sure he would haunt him for the rest of his life. However long that may be.
He cradled her now, holding her carefully. Applying pressure to the cuts he'd bandaged while in a daze, praying that he hadn't been too late. Hoping that by some miracle she would live through the night. He would have done anything, anything, to ensure her survival. Yet he was completely helpless. There was nothing, he could do nothing but wait.
The pain he felt was staggering. The idea that she preferred death to himself...
"Oh my beautiful, beautiful love, what have I done?" his voice was naught but a whisper. "What have I done?" Now of course he could see that she had been right. He did not know her as he thought he did. Though he loved her with every fiber of his being she did not feel the same way. He had allowed himself be blinded by his feelings and had ignored what was clear.
Foolish! He had been so foolish. Deluding himself into believing that his love was enough, pretending that she would somehow see just how deeply he adored her. He'd fantasized about the day she would profess that she cared for him as he cared for her. It seemed now that his imagined fairytale ending would never come. She had seen to that quite thoroughly. If her life was to end then his would follow.
He refused to exist without her.
He would not go on without her.
With a deep breath he shook himself back into the present. The cloth bandages were soaked through with blood, he couldn't tell whether or not the bleeding had stopped. He feared removing them, but there was no other choice. Slowly he peeled away the now crimson layers of gauze, revealing the dried, and no longer flowing bodily fluid. He allowed himself a brief sigh of relief; this at least was a good sign.
Cautiously he readjusted her in his arms and stood. He moved swiftly, laying her down on the bed and making his way from the bedchamber to the small bathroom. He returned to her side as soon as he had a warm, wet cloth and small dish of tepid water.
With careful, unhurried strokes he wiped the scarlet colored gore from her wrists and re-bandaged the wounds. His eyes couldn't remove themselves from her waxen skin. She was so very pale.
Tentatively, he reached out a hand to brush the dark strands of hair from her face. They were no longer the soft waves that he remembered; no, instead they were stiff and covered with congealed blood. He set to work then, cleaning her face; doing his best to restore it to it's former glory.
"Ahhh, my love," he murmured. "I am truly nothing but a horrible fool. I realize it now and yet it is even worse than that. I fear that even though I know I should I don't know how to let you go." He shook his head. "No, I don't know how I can allow you to return to that place you call home."
She was as clean as he could get her by the end of his short monologue.
Gently he caressed her cheek, just barely grazing her skin with the back of his hand. He traced from her ear to her chin and tenderly brushed his fingertips across her lips. He leaned toward her, rubbing his nose against hers wishing that she would open her eyes and reassure him that she was going to be alright. He could feel her breath on his face, and hear her heart beat. He pulled back and checked her pulse; it was gaining in strength, slowly, but definitely growing stronger.
He rested his head beside hers on the pillow and stretched out on the bed. He would be there when she awoke.
A/N: Leave reviews, please and thank you.