Chapter 10

Cock It and Pull It

Jacob and I make our way back to the apartment building. It's too nice of a day to spend it all outside enjoying it, it just makes me depressed. Suddenly the little punk pulls me from my thoughts. "Why do you think about him so much still? You think you'd be over it by now."

"Hardly." I shake my head. "It's not that easy to get over. For me at least. But I'm about 100 different kinds of fucked up. My therapist loved it. Maybe I should start seeing one again."

"You seem normal enough to me." Jacob shrugs.

"Oh, baby." I mess up his hair. "You'll learn. No one is normal. The more normal they seem, the more fucked up they are. It's a simple fact of life."

We reach the apartment building and make our way up the stairs. I toss me keys on the table, the white envelope still there. Still mocking me. I hate it. My answering machine is flashing so I hit play. "Bella," a familiar voice resonates in the room. My eyes grow wide and my stomach feels as if it's full of snakes. "It's Robert Conway. It took me awhile but I managed to get your new number. Hope you've been staying out of trouble." I'm sure he knows better than that. "But onto business. As you may or may not know some things have transpired and I think it would be a good idea for us to talk them over. So give me a call at my office at your earliest convenience." I flop down into a chair and stare at the wall.

"Izzy? Bella?" Jacob questions, staring in my face. "You don't look so good."

I shake my head. "I don't feel so good."

"Do you need some water?" He asks, backing away slowly. "Anything?" All I can do is shake my head.

"I have to make a phone call." I say monotonously and reach for my cell. "I'll see you later kid." I rush him out the door but he's reluctant. Such a sweet kid, worrying and all but right now I need to be alone.

It takes me a minute to gather enough courage to dial the number and a nasally woman's voice answers. I cut her off. "This is Bella Swan returning Mr. Conway's call." She insists that he's busy and she'll take a message. I insist I don't have time for her small talk and I just want to get this over with. A minute later I'm patched through. "Hello, Mr. Conway. Let's cut through the pleasantries, no conversation with you is ever a good one. So to what do I owe this pleasure?" I say, my voice so sweet I amaze myself.

There is a heavy sigh. "It's about your mother."

XXXXX

It was the day I had said was the most memorable of my life. And it was, for two reasons. I had my happy moment. Then the real reason it was the most memorable. No matter how much I want to, I'll never be able to forget it. Not one small fucking detail.

I had spent the day with my father acting for once like a regular family. But mostly because it was the last day I ever got to spend with him. When we got back to the hotel my mother was of course gone so my father had put me to bed with my special birthday song. But a few hours later we had to board the bus and move on to the next city. That's when all the shit started.

My father lifted me up and carried me out. As soon as we boarded the bus a strong scent hit me, one that I am all too familiar with now. My mother was already there, hair matted to her face with sweat, makeup smeared. It was a far cry from the fair and angelic face that everyone was used to. But that was what I used to call her nighttime face. The one she wore when no one else was around. But no one else got to see her like that. I wish I never got to. Maybe things would have been different if she weren't an addict.

She always scared me when she was like that. Her cheery disposition was ruined and she yelled a lot. She would hit my father and occasionally me but my dad always stood up for me. Never for himself. I never understood that. I never understood why he put up with her. He should have just left her. Things would have been so much better. But he stayed and he took it day in and day out.

I held onto my father tighter and buried my head in his chest. "Don't you have anything to say to your daughter?" he asked, his voice laced with spite.

"Like what?" she sneered, pushing her hair behind her ears before reaching for a smoldering cigarette.

I could feel his muscles tense as he held me. I was upset that my mother couldn't remember my birthday but not nearly as much as I was scared. The haze in her eyes held something different tonight. And it had me terrified. "Put that shit out. You know the rules, not around the kid," he shouted, adjusting my weight. "Now tell your daughter happy birthday."

"Happy birthday, baby," she swooned, standing from the couch and stumbling over to us. But I pulled away and hid in my father once more.

"Do you even know how old I am?" I shouted, instantly regretting it. I never talked back to my mother, especially when she was like that. I learned that the hard way a long time ago.

"Now listen here you little shit," she shouted, grabbing my arm, her cigarette burning the tender flesh of my wrist. Tears stung in my eyes and I tried to fight it. She always told me never to let anyone see you cry. But I couldn't help it.

"Let go of her, Renee," my father commanded, stepping back.

But she followed. "Don't you fucking tell me what to do!" she shouted, hitting him and me in the process.

"Renee, not now!" He shouted, setting me down.

"What? Not around the kid?" she countered stooping to my level. "She can handle herself. She's what, ten?"

"Eight," I said softly. And I saw the anger flash in her eyes again before my father kneeled in between us.

"Honey, I want you to get my CD player out of my bag, go to bed and put it on real loud, okay?" I nodded and he pushed me back toward the bunks.

I shut my eyes tightly as my small fingers hit play then turned the dial on side of the portable CD player to drown out the sound of the screams outside. But seconds later it just turns off again. No battery. I hug the pillow tighter to my chest, gnawing on the pillow corner, attempting I block out all sounds.

What happened next is what turns my dreams into nightmares. The moment that I have tried time and time again to forget but it still plagues me. The arguing continued and I can't ever remember my parents ever getting that mad before. My mother would always pass out or my father would somehow get her subdued. But not this time. This time was different. They just kept going and the things that were being said kept getting worse.

I cradled the pillow closer to my chest and prayed for it to stop or for me to just go deaf. And for a second I thought that my prayers had been answered. A few more shouts, a loud noise then silence. Blessed silence.

I sighed in relief and wiped the tears away. I opened my eyes when I heard footsteps run past my bunk followed by shouts and screams and more loud noises, crashes and bangs. I wanted to know what was going on but I was too scared to see. So I just strained my ears to hear while still wishing for deafness.

After what seemed like minutes, but I was told couldn't have been more than seconds of silence passed I heard soft footprints with and my mothers soft voice. I kept my eyes closed tight and prayed she would just pass by thinking I was asleep. But she paused outside my bunk and threw the curtain back. "Happy birthday, baby," she said as she leaned down to kiss my head. The smell of stale whisky and cigarettes heavy on her breath. "I'm sorry but mommy has no choice now. It'll be nice and easy." She ripped my pillow from my grasp. And before I could process anything, I couldn't breath. I tried to scream but it's muffled by the pillow.

I kicked and kept trying to scream but nothing worked. So my small fingers gripped the arms holding the pillow securely to my face and I dragged my nails across the skin. Her grip of the pillow loosened and I grabbed her arms, pushing her forcefully from me.

I sprung from the bed and ran to the front of the bus only to stop in awe of what was in front of me. Blood. Everywhere. Eric, a roadie, was covered in blood, face frozen in some distorted form of a silent scream and…my father. I ran over to him and tried to wake him before I realized that all this blood was his. My fingers felt sticky matted hair on the back of his head. My fingers covered in his warm crimson blood. "It's all your fault," my mother shouted running towards me. I scooted back into the corner letting tears roll down my face. I just sat, cradling my legs to my chest as she scanned the room until she spotted something. I followed her line of vision. A shiny black metallic object of death.

I heard pounding at the door and I was tempted to try to run out. But she was too close. And I was closer. I sprinted to the gun and my small fingers fell on top of it. "It's all your fault!" She kept screaming at me over and over as she hit me one, twice…repeatedly. She finally settled and stepped back. "Give it to me." She held out her hand and I picked up the gun, holding it tight. Like it was the only thing keeping me alive. And it may as well have been. "Give it to be, baby. Please give it to mama." When I didn't forfeit it she screamed and lurched towards me. I didn't even know what happened. I simply felt a jolt, heard a loud noise followed by shouting.

The people outside had finally broken the door and rushed in. It must have been some sight to see. A tour bus covered in blood. Three bullet ridden bodies. And an eight-year-old holding a gun.

I passed out as soon as the security guards spoke to me. I don't remember shooting. I don't even know how to work a gun. But I was the one with the gun and she was the one with the gun shot wound. So what the hell else could have happened?

XXXXX

I took a deep breath and smile. "You must be mistaken. I don't have a mother. She died years ago."

"Bella, I know you don't like to talk about it." He started.

"Would you like to talk about it?" I shot back, hoping my words would somehow hurt him like his hurt me.

Another sigh from him. "I understand that but we really have to talk about this. As your lawyer, I have an obligation."

"And as your client, who has the money, I kind of get to call the shots. There is nothing for us to discuss. Have a good day, Mr. Conway." And I hang up.