Sometimes you gotta bleed to know
That you're alive and have a soul
But it takes someone to come around
And show you how
When her phone vibrates, it hums throughout the entire room and the perfect acoustics can only mean one thing. "I'm in fucking Edward's fucking room," she groans into the pillow. Which means that everything she can remember about yesterday, granted it isn't much, actually happened. So that's nice. She's back at the Cullens', who rifled through her pockets, accused her of time travel, and took her in for the night.
More debt to pay off to people she hates. Great.
Her phone buzzes again and she's got just enough of a headache that it's obnoxious and tempts her to throw the thing across the room. Precious pictures are stored within though, so she grudgingly picks it up and squints to read the screen.
Be nice.
Bella blinks and leans up onto her elbow, rubbing at her eyes. Whose number is that? And who the fuck is telling her to be nice? They don't know her, they don't know what she's been through. "Who-?"
You.
A frown latches onto her face, halfway pouty and halfway resigned. What an asshole Future Her is. "Fuck you."
Try to have fun, Gus. Don't forget to breathe.
She stuffs the phone into her pocket angrily, snatching up her glasses and kicking off the blankets. Easy to say from the future, when everything is said and done. Bella yanks the door open, looking down the hall on either side. Rosalie staples one corner of a tarp over the enormous hole in the wall, glancing back over her shoulder to scoff. "You look less dead."
"You look…" There are no insults she can actually hurl at the blonde, they both know Rosalie is stunning even in paint-covered overalls. So she turns away instead, taking the stairs down two at a time and heading for the kitchen. Fucking vampires taking her damn gun like they know anything at all.
Esme looks up from the stove, flipping a pancake. "Bella! Alice suspected you might wake up this morning, I made you - oh dear…"
"Not hungry," she grunts, dragging bowl after bowl out of the cupboard. "Where did he put it?"
"Edward feels very strongly about-"
"Shockingly, I think this is where I'm finally stronger than a vampire," Bella snaps. "I guarantee I feel more strongly about this than he does. Where is it?"
Esme sighs. "Bella."
"Where. Is. My. Gun."
She brings it up out of her apron pouch, holding it in her open palm. "Please be careful."
"That's the idea, maybe even the point," Bella grumbles and can't quite meet Esme's eye. "How long have I been asleep for? It feels like days."
With a nod, Esme flips the pancake onto a plate. "Three days, actually. Your father is still asleep on the couch in the living room."
"Wh-"
"He's been told things are not quite as he understands them," Esme explains patiently. "When you didn't wake up the first morning, we contacted him. People were still searching for you, Bella, and he deserves to know when you're safe and when you're not. It was killing him."
"How am I supposed to explain where I've been?" she exclaims and runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "Does he know about vampires? Or why there are holes in your house?"
This time Esme shakes her head. "He knows only that you're momentarily safe and strange concepts need to be discussed. If you feel he needs to know about our nature, knowing that it places him in danger…" She smiles reassuringly. "Then we will tell him. I think everyone deserves to know what is happening to or with you, though."
"You don't deserve anything."
Esme flinches and then Bella does, realizing how cruel a thing to say that was. "You may be right," she whispers and turns back to the stove, pouring more pancake batter into the pan. "We can clear out to give you two privacy if you'd like."
Be nice. Be nice. Be nice.
God. The arrogance. Does she have any idea how difficult that is? Yeah, but no. Maybe. Fuck. Why? Why do they deserve any kindness from her? Why does she have to be the bigger person? Why does she have to be nice?
It's so easy to be cruel.
It's so hard to be nice.
Fuck.
Bella taps Esme's shoulder, awkwardly clearing her throat. "I, uh. Sorry."
"It's fine, Bella," Esme says with a sad smile. "Are you sure you're not hungry? I can make something else for you, I could even run out to the store, I don't mind."
She shakes her head. "No, really, I'm fine. I can't stay, I have things I need...to...do…" she trails off at the anxious look on Esme's face. "This was an accidental destination, I'm still learning how to - aim?"
"You were telling the truth?"
"I usually do."
"Why lie when the truth is so much sharper," Rosalie muses from the entrance to the kitchen. She wipes drywall from her hand onto her thigh and flashes a sarcastic smile. "Always happy to hear when I'm right."
Emmett crosses his arms on the windowsill over the sink from outside. "Time travel is pretty damn cool, but Carlisle thinks it's killing you."
"What?" Bella and Esme echo each other.
He visibly deflates, open horror on his face when he realizes he said the words out loud. "Oh, wait. There's probably a better way to tell you that."
"Bells?" Charlie rasps with a voice heavy with sleep. He blinks bleary eyes at her, braced against the other side of the entrance to the kitchen.
She looks between him and Emmett, feeling one solid thud in her chest from her heart. She takes a breath and holds up a hand. "Wait…" No, he's wrong. It can't. It can't be. What kinda bullshit would that be? To be bestowed this great and powerful gift only to have it actively kill her? "Killing me?"
That's not.
That can't be true.
Sure, a big jump takes a lot out of her. The headaches, the nosebleeds, whatever that chill thing is… but that's it. Right? It can't be killing her.
"You're wrong," she snaps, cutting through everyone else's heated conversation. She didn't even feel Charlie's hand on her shoulder and looks up at him. Shrugs off his hand. "No, you're all wrong, you don't get it. You have no idea what I can do and… you're trying to trap me. Again."
It's not killing her.
It's more Cullen Head Games.
She points an accusing finger at Emmett. "Just another way to cram me back into a convenient box. What, you're the only ones allowed to be special? You don't like that I can come and go as I please, you have to chain me down? I need to be stuck here in Forks for you to play with whenever you're bored, is that it? Fuck you, Emmett. Fuck you, Cullens."
Benicebenicebenice.
She plugs her ears and glares up at the ceiling. "And fuck you, too!"
Bella doesn't even try to fight against the heat of the pins and needles.
.
.
.
Maybe there are better ways to go jumping than in the middle of an explosive emotional episode. Maybe it's a good idea to not go jumping at all when you're not actually sure if it is or isn't actively killing you.
On the other hand…
Maybe life sucks and then you die.
What's the point in waiting, if that's the case?
Surprisingly, she has an answer. If life does, indeed, suck and then you do, indeed, die at the end, the only reason - at least, to not run off to go jumping through time is so you can avoid a mouthful of dirt and grass.
Bella rolls twice more before she manages to spit it out, coughing and hacking in the air. Chaos. Her life is chaos and falling to pieces around her, scattered across the entirety of history. And the worst part is, she doesn't know why. What did she do to deserve this? It's not like she's a bad person, she's actually kind of decent most of the time.
She's always been a good friend to Mike, she's always worked hard to put him before herself. As a daughter… well, she's not the worst. She might even be a good kid when it comes to Charlie. Minus the whole disappearing thing, which she mostly can't control (except that time she jumped off the hospital on purpose). And Renee is - complicated. That's mostly balanced though, a bad mom deserves a bad kid. She feels like, anyway.
Even the people she doesn't like, she just - she just avoids them! She tried avoiding the Cullens, and she's been supremely patient with them, all things considered.
She's not a bad guy, why is her life like this? What did she do to deserve it? It's not fair.
It's not fair.
"It's not fair," someone weeps.
Her heart jumps up into her throat for maybe a second before she swallows it down and turns on her side. It would be too much to ask, you know, landing in an abandoned field to bask in her misery alone. No, she has to share it with a blurry stranger.
Bella sighs, adjusting her crooked glasses and leans up on her arm. The stranger - less blurry now, looks… kinda… vaguely familiar. And, alas, Bella is a sucker for weeping damsels because she is a fucking decent fucking human fucking being who doesn't deserve this shit. She clears her throat, pushing up to her knees and notices they're actually on a rather beautiful cliffside.
There's even a nice sunrise beyond the stranger that paints the sky a beautiful pink. "H…" She swallows against the dirt lacing her throat and shakes her head. "Hey…"
"I'm sorry…" the woman sighs and raises her arms.
Dread strikes Bella's heart to a standstill before coursing through her veins. The longest and shortest second of her life passes where she realizes she knows exactly who this blurry stranger is and it's cruel (again) how clear she becomes with a final blink. Esme's profile glows against the sunrise and Bella reaches out helplessly.
Time rushes back in the moment Esme steps off the cliff. Bella might scream. Or gasp. There's rushing air in her chest but all she feels is the grass and dirt against her fingers and knuckles. Muffled noise as she scrambles to the edge of the cliff, hands digging into the ground.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. Esme just jumped. Esme just jumped. Esme just jumped.
Look.
Just peek.
Or don't? Wait for Carlisle to find her?
"Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Does Carlisle find her? How-how-how did Esme's story go? What did Edward tell her? Who found Esme?
"Who finds you?" Bella asks the edge of the cliff. The sunrise. A god that never responds. Just a still morning, quiet and peaceful as the world still shakes off sleep. Tranquillity marred by tragedy and nobody fucking knows.
Peek.
Or don't.
Look.
Or wait.
"It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair," she whispers and leans forward. Grass, grass, gravel, gravel, cliff, cliff, air, gr-Esme. Blood. She falls back on her ass and stares out at the pink sky. That's not something she should see. That's not something anyone should see. That's, that's, that's - no.
What the fuck.
That's messed up.
That's really messed up. The universe is fucked up. Life is so fucking unfair.
She breathes in a jagged breath. "Where do they find you? Okay." Bella closes her eyes and takes another breath. "Okay. Esme fell. He's being kind. I jumped after I lost my baby. She was very lucky, she managed to survive the fall, and Carlisle found her in the morgue of the hospital. Destiny kept her alive long enough for him to find her. That's a rather romantic twist on the morbid, Edward. He's not wrong, though. It was… meant to be, I think."
A shaky hand covers Bella's mouth and she can feel the warm tears run down her cheeks.
Esme survived the jump.
She's alive down there. Bleeding. Dying. Alone.
"Esme, just hold on!" Bella's watery shout echoes through the morning air. She violently wipes at her eyes, looking back down over the edge. "I'm on my way, just... Obviously, you're not going to move but. You know. Don't move!"
Fuck this tall fucking cliff. Fuck her inability to walk across a flat surface, never mind scale a damn mountain. Bella digs her fingers into the gravel, lowering her legs over the edge to feel around for a lip to stand on. There's always a lip or a root, a larger rock to hold onto. Something.
Maybe if she-"Fuck!" she gasps, fingers sliding through loose gravel until she can dig them harder into the dirt beneath. Her fingertips throb, sharp pebbles under her nails, and she whimpers against the sting. "Okay, okay, okay. Alright, another game of chicken. J-ust!" She slides another foot and dangles over the side of the cliff.
Jesus. That's a long way down. How did Esme survive that?
Pins and needles, come on. Come on. Come on. Esme needs her. Esme needs her and, and, and she deserves this. If it's killing her, she deserves some semblance of control over her life. She can direct it, she has to be able to direct it. Life isn't fair but damn it, you always have a choice and "I choose to pop up down there right now!"
Her hands let go and she plummets through the air, feeling the sharp tingling sensation of needles and pins…
Pink and green blur together for half a heartbeat and then she blinks, landing in the grass with a thud. The sky spins and she blinks again. The top of the cliff stares back at her, up, up, up there. "Holy hell…"
Someone whimpers beside her.
"Esme!" Bella gasps and shoots up. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Why would you do this? Wh-why?" Her trembling and bloody hands flit over Esme's bruised and broken face. Tears land on her dirty, bloody dress and Bella can't stop weeping, can't stop sobbing over the only woman who ever truly felt like her mother. "How could you do that to them? Edward saw, he saw it all! Anytime you remember, he sees this! How could you do it to him? Don't you know how much they love you?"
She's unresponsive, of course. Nobody ever answers Bella. Always, she will be left alone. Always, she will be left wondering why. What she did wrong. Why people reach for you only to fucking leave you in the end.
She beats her fists against the grass beside Esme, sitting back on her feet to let her anguish out in a wail. "What if nobody found you?" she snarls and wipes at her cheeks again. "What if I never met you? What if you just died here, Esme? Don't you know how much I love you?!"
Doesn't she know what she means to Bella? Doesn't she know what she did, leaving her? Can't she see Bella's broken heart? Can't she hear the shards pretend they're whole?
By the time Bella's done screaming at a woman who clearly can't hear her, the pink sky is gone. It's brilliantly blue, the sun shining high up above the cliff, and Bella sits there hugging her knees while she waits. And waits. And waits.
She's not that dumb, not really, but things aren't always as they seem. Time is… tricky and so, so fragile. "Who finds you, Esme?" she asks weakly.
It's a suspicion she's had ever since she realized it was Esme up on that cliff, one she still tosses around in her head even as she drags the woman through the field as gently as she can. Which is not nearly as easy as it sounds, Bella decides, huffing and puffing as she goes. Bodies are damn heavy and maybe she needs to start working out. Less cardio, more weights. Something. Jesus.
Going through town is a little more difficult but mostly just not being spotted. The wheelbarrow at the edge of the field made things ten times easier and it only takes her ten minutes to realize they're very luckily on the side of the city with the hospital on it.
As gently as she can, she sets the wheelbarrow down and hovers long enough to make sure it doesn't tip. Grabbing the door handle, she prays isn't locked. It's the back of a hospital and her life sucks so it's probably locked but one can hope. Bella closes her eyes and pulls-
Shocked to hell and back when she has to catch the door, realizing it was just propped up there. She leans back to look at the hinges and inspect the ripped metal, and briefly wonders if Carlisle wasn't always so good at controlling his strength?
Inside a metal gurney is waiting for her and she pauses only long enough to narrow her eyes in more suspicion.
Covered in her surrogate mother's blood and dirt from the cliff she threw herself off, Bella tries to ignore the cold pain of a whine in the back of her head and wheels the woman down a dark hall. Ignores the windows she passes, the doors that remain closed, and rolls her shoulders until the ringing in her ears gets a little quieter.
The morgue is - cold. Quiet. It feels… she doesn't like it. Something familiar, like a nightmare you can't remember.
Bella brushes the dirt from Esme's cheeks. Uses her sleeve to wipe the blood from Esme's face, and combs her fingers through matted hair. She gently and lovingly places Esme's hands over each other, on her stomach, and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Your family is waiting for you," she whispers.
The morgue doors swing shut again and a man's shadow dips around the corner at the end of the hall. Bella turns the opposite way and sprints to the end, slowing down only so she doesn't kick open the door to the stairwell, and takes them two at a time to the next floor up.
One of the nurses on the other side of the door gasps when they see her - a girl who looks like she just dug herself out of her own grave, with eyes dark and hard as death itself. The woman shakes her head and steps back, watching Bella lift a bloodstained finger over her lips.
A towel is held out to her, small and wet and also stained, but she takes it with a nod and the nurse leaves at once. Bella wipes at her face, her hands, and leans against the wall. Exhaustion clings to her, despite the fact she just slept for three days.
But she can't stop. Can't rest, not here. Carlisle might see her even with his hands full, so she slides forward against the wall until the next hall. It's a little busier but hopefully she looks less like Death Incarnate, and takes the corner to slide down the hall against the wall.
She only stops when she gets to a long window, looking inside at the newborn babies. Fucking adorable.
Really, Bella's never been crazy about kids. Maybe she's too young, but the itch just never took. Kids are fun, don't get her wrong, and she's not immune to how cute some of them are, but. She can't imagine having to raise one. So much responsibility, so much riding on you to shape a life and then do right by it.
Knowing firsthand how much it can damage a kid if you don't do it right, Bella doesn't understand how people get past the crippling fear to the excitement. Who's gonna protect all these babies from the world? From the decades, upon decades, upon decades of bullshit they'll have to endure? Racism, sexism, carnage and cruelty.
How does something so small and soft survive that?
"I-I-I came through on my end of the deal, Charles! I'm just saying, I - you need to pay me! Miss Platt was devastated when I told her we lost the baby and I can't get it out of my head. She left the hospital!"
"That's good, Allan," a darkly amused voice murmurs.
Bella tilts her head. Listens closer.
"She was broken, Charles. I'm worried. And-and broke. You owe me m-money, okay? Or I-I'm going to go find her and tell her the baby lived."
There's a small yelp and some scuffling. "Now, Allan. Why would you threaten a man who could very easily crush your head like a melon? Does that seem wise, Doctor Sir?"
"I-I-I'm just-"
"Breathe a word of it to anyone and I will go find your wife, Allan. Do we understand each other?"
After a moment of silence, Bella leans back against the wall to look around the corner. A man in a white coat slumps to the floor, a look of fear and defeat on his face, while a behemoth of a man shoves open a door at the end of the hall. A blue bundle is tucked into his large arm, cradled close.
And the gun in Bella's belt feels heavier than ever.
.
.
.
It's not that difficult to follow them home. They're not that far, Bella realizes from the beginning, since he decided walking was no issue for a newborn. She's careful enough to make sure he doesn't realize he's being followed, and careful not to run into Carlisle.
Still not as good going unseen tailing someone as Tori, but she gets the job done.
Thankfully there's not a whole lot of chance of Carlisle spotting her, not with the sun shining high in the sky. She's actually not even sure how he managed to get to work or how he's going to get Esme out of the hospital but that's his issue. She's done there.
She's got a new goal now, a better goal. She couldn't save Esme, but she sure as hell can avenge her.
Maybe she just wanted a nice and quiet day to decompress. To try and adjust to her life a little bit, to this new and shocking information. Time to absorb the fact that she may be dying and now, you know, deal with the trauma of watching Esme try to kill herself… but life goes on. What's that saying, ain't no rest for the wicked?
Just how wicked does the universe judge her to be?
Twenty minutes pass by the time they end up at a house just outside of the city. Plenty of land for kids to run around on, a big tree excellent to hang a swing from. Nice sized porch, and Bella can almost see Esme sitting out here, watching her family play together.
She can almost see the life Esme worked so hard for.
A life that was taken from her.
By this asshole.
Her fingers twitch and she runs them along the smooth wood of the railing. So familiar. Almost like stepping through an echo.
The door wasn't even really latched, it bounces off the wall inside when she kicks it in and has to kick it again. "You better kill me or-"
She jabs the barrel against his chest and he stumbles back, holding a hand to a forming bruise. "People really need to stop telling me to kill them!" Bella growls and aims the gun between his eyebrows. "I might just start listening to them."
Is it some kind of power move? Do they think it makes them tough? Though, to be fair, who is she to judge someone who dares the world to kill them?
Nope, never mind. Fuck that. Self-reflection is a dangerous game and there are certainly better moments for it.
"Who do you think you are?!" he booms as his face twists in fury. "Do you have any idea who I am? What you've just done?"
She steps forward and he steps back into the living room. It's nice enough, pale blue with a white couch, paintings on the walls. Shockingly homey, but she supposes Esme could make a home of just about anything. "I'm the asshole that's gonna blow your face off your skull. You're the asshole about to die. And I just spelled out your fucking doom, dickhole."
"You stupid child," he spits and wipes a big meaty hand down his face. He's smiling when his hand passes over his mouth, brown eyes crinkling with humour. "Oh you stupid, stupid little girl. Who are you, really?"
Bella digs the barrel into his muscled shoulder. "Sit the fuck down."
And he does, willingly. Helpfully. Calmly. The couch sinks with his mighty weight and, damn, this is one big dude. Heavy. Broad. "You're a cousin? Sister, maybe? Esme told me she had no siblings, should have guessed she was lying to me. Always lying, thinking she's clever enough that I won't know. What a fool, my wife is."
"Shut up," Bella snarls and the gun clicks when she draws it back up to his face. How dare he speak of her like that. "Shut the actual fuck up, stop the noise coming out of your mouth."
He nods, holds up a hand and relaxes back into the couch. Laces his arms along the back, unable to tame his charming smile. "Right, yes. Have your moment, let's pretend you're in control here. That you might actually pull the trigger. What's your name, child?"
This is the guy who hurt Esme. The arrogant fuck who thinks it's okay to tell someone their baby died. To threaten a man using his wife.
Scratching at her eyebrow, Bella yanks her hand away and squeezes her fist until her knuckles try to pop. "I'm having a bad day," she tells Charles. "You're making it worse and that's a very dangerous thing to do. What, exactly, makes you think you're walking away from this?"
This is the man who put Esme up on that cliff. This is the man responsible for her death.
"You have her eyes," he says and points a finger-gun at her. "Kind. Hurt. Scared. She couldn't pull that trigger and neither can you. But hey, don't let it get you down. I'm in a good mood, I'm having a good day. I'm a father now. I'm even going to let you walk away from this, no hard feelings. No lessons to be taught."
Fury bubbles in her veins against cold hatred. Her muscles ache. "Is that what you think you were doing all that time? Teaching lessons?" She has to take another breath and squeeze the handle. Rub at her eyebrow. "You… fuck. You delusional, controlling, twisted… no. No, I'm taking that kid. You'll never see him again, you'll never get anywhere near your baby."
The smile drops from his face in a heartbeat. "Don't threaten me." He shakes his head, up on his feet quicker than she expects, and knocks her hand aside to shove her back into the wall. "You petulant brat. I was going to let you leave, don't you get that? I was being generous but you Platt women are too stupid to understand simple courtesies! You think you're going to take my child from me?"
"St-"
His hand snaps around her neck, digging into her jaw, and catches the very words in her throat. "Who threatens a man's child? You? A woman? You should be grateful I'm here to raise her. To protect her from the very ideals that poisoned your family. She will be a proper woman, not some street-whore in breeches-"
Bella slams her elbow down on his, enough to bring her forehead forward against his nose in a headbutt. "Su-ck my d-ckk!"
"Foul-mouthed demon!" he roars and lifts her up to slam her against the wall. "I hope Esme comes crawling back again after licking her wounds, after she washes off the shame of losing a child. And then you-"
"K-kill… you…!" Bella rasps between his fingers and jabs the gun up under his chin.
It's not fair.
It's not fair.
He scoffs, chuckles deep in his chest. "Again with this game? Go ahead, little girl, pul-"
The rest of his words are a gurgle of blood that splatters every surface of the room, of her face, against her glasses. Her ears pop and a headache tears through her brain like a cold icicle, but she drops to the floor, gasping in air like a drowning man.
She drops her hand with the gun against the ground, wiping his blood from her face with her other hand, and swallows down another gulp of air. Her lungs sigh in relief, the black spots in her vision fading until she can see the blood against her glasses and she sucks in another gulp of oxygen.
It's… it's fair. Balanced. A life for a life.
She had to. She had to do it. It sucks, it's horrible, but… this… this is how it has to be.
A baby's cry echoes through the small house by the time she finally catches her breath. His body lays there, ever still. She stares at Charles' boots, feels herself slipping, slipping, slipping…
The baby cries again.
Bella blinks. Grunts. "Yeah. Okay." She gets up, prying the revolver from her stiff fingers and tucks it back into the holster. Charles has very large feet. Had very large feet. He's got big boots. Had.
Another cry.
"Right." She nods and walks down the hall, bloody boot prints left behind. Her fingers leave red streaks on the wood of the door and she peeks in. The room is yellow. Nice. Monkeys painted on the wall. A crib across the room. Very nice. "Hi… uh, kid," she whispers and it wails some more. She creeps ever closer, fingers curling around the bar on the crib to blink down at the baby.
White stains red when Bella uses some of the soft blanket to clean her glasses enough to see out of. She blinks a few more times and stares down into big brown eyes.
Uh… huh.
Bella steps back. "Well, that's. Um." She scratches the top of her head. Rubs at her eyebrow. "No. No, that's." Brushes her knuckles against her jaw. "H…" Digs her fingers into the back of her neck.
The baby cries harder.
"Okay, okay. Lets, you. Come on, then." She reaches in to pick it up and doesn't think twice about the blood until it soaks into the blue blanket the baby is wrapped in. "Sorry."
With another shaky breath, Bella turns to look out at the hall. Catches sight of those large boots, and the two girls blip out of time.
.
.
.
"So, the nineties aren't that bad," Bella tells the little girl in her arms as she carries her up the familiar driveway. "I was born in the nineties." She pauses, stops in the middle of the driveway, and shakes her head. "Actually, no, I wasn't. I'll have to ask Esme what year she jumped… but, you know, I was raised in the nineties. You'll like it, I liked it. Much better than the eighteen-hundreds. Felt like the eighteen-hundreds."
She doesn't like the eighteen-hundreds, she decides. Definitely not. Won't go back. Definitely won't go back.
Lights are on upstairs, music drifting from the window. Renee's probably painting again, Charlie either watching her or watching tv. Or - no, he only started rotting in front of the television after she left. He used to read. He used to read a lot.
He's probably reading.
"Sorry about your mom, she's gonna… she's gonna be a pill but you'll do fine. Charlie's cool. You'll like him. A good dude." She shifts the baby in her arms, crouching down in front of the door. "Hey, listen. I gotta go, I'm - I feel sick, I'm just. I gotta go. But you? You're gonna be fine. I'm fine. We're fine. I just, um, remember to sleep and eat, we forget sometimes, and breathe. Breathing is key. I can't breathe. Bye, kid. Bye."
She stumbles away from the porch, only remembering to knock at the last second, and sprints back down the driveway. She waits long enough for the door to crack open before stepping into another year.
.
.
.
Bella doubles over, hands on her hips in the Cullen's backyard. She circles the house, her tongue dry and heavy, until she can spot the police cruiser and stumbles up the steps. "You didn't tell me. You never. All these years and you never said a word."
She shoulders through the door, trying to shove Carlisle out of the way but only shoving herself into the wall instead. Her legs feel like jelly. So wobbly. He steps forward to catch her, throwing his hands up and stepping back when she screams at him.
A shivering, trembling, bloody girl screaming like a banshee at him. All it takes is seeing her tears and he steps close again, reaching for her. "Bella! What's wrong? Bella, you're covered in-"
"Is that her blood?!" Esme gasps from the second floor, her hand over her heart. "Bella!"
She's down in a second but Bella's back up, she's - they watch her blink out of existence, a tear of light and darkness woven together, gone as soon as it appears. And in the same moment, she's across the room. Carlisle's mind reels and he rubs at his eyes. "How did you-"
"You never told me!" Bella screams down the hall.
They follow her and-... damn it, they listen for her heartbeat, hear it in the kitchen with Charlie's, and blur across the ground floor.
Inside the kitchen, Bella hauls her father to his feet by his uniform shirt. Tears streak down through the dirt and blood on her cheeks while Edward and Jasper watch on with black eyes, uncertain what to do. "You never told me!" Bella shouts, her breath visible in the chill of a winter air.
"What, Bells? Told you what? What happened?!" Charlie asks and his voice quakes. His hands cup her frosty cheeks. "What's wrong? I'll fix it, I swear."
Her eyes flick down to her bloody hands clutching his shirt. She lets him go like she's scalded, shoving him back into the table to stare down at her hands. "I wouldn't have… or-or I could have…"
"Bella…?"
She stalks forward to point an accusing finger at him. "I'm not yours. You should have told me! You should have told me, I had a right to know! I would have been more careful, I would have… now he's dead and it's-me. I did it."
Charlie holds up his hands, inching closer. "Bella. Bells, breathe. You're not breathing properly."
"I'm f-fucking freezing," she snarls quietly and shivers. The edges of her glasses are frosty, coat stiff with frozen blood. "And I can't even look at you, I can't, I can't stop seeing him. Holy shit. Holy shit. What did I do? What did-what did I do?"
Charlie's fingers brush against her shoulder-
And she's gone, across the room with a sharp glare. "D-Don't you fucking touch me! Nobody touch me, I'm not…"
"Bella," Esme calls to her softly. Warm and gentle and kind and all the things Renee never was, all the things stolen from her. Stolen from a child that just needed a mother to love her.
She squeezes her eyes shut. "I need-"
.
.
.
"Alice," she breathes in relief, staring down into comforting blue eyes. She sucks in a sharp breath, lifting a trembling and bloody hand only to drop it. "I…"
Alice nods. "I know. I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't see, not until you were gone."
"I feel - empty," she admits in a broken sob. "Esme is… and my dad, he's not - Alice, it shouldn't have been me. I never should have followed him home. And, and she still left me. I'm hers and she left me. Twice."
God, her brain is so noisy! Chaos churns like acid, a barrage of sharp thoughts cutting her every time she blocks one out.
Something warm takes her hand and she blinks, staring down at Alice. Such kindness. Such warmth. So gentle as she leads Bella towards the creek and it's only then that Bella notices the candles set up.
They've been out here before, on one of their walks. It's peaceful and secluded in the woods a few fields down from Alice's house. The sun's still setting, an orange sky, but it's dark at the edge of the woods here. Or it would be, without the soft glow of the candles and lanterns.
Nimble fingers help unbuckle Bella's coat and pull it from her sore shoulders. A towel and fresh clothes sit on a nearby rock, next to a basin with sponges. Alice yanks Bella's belt from the loops, sets it and the revolver in a bush, and helps Bella disrobe.
The water is… warm. Maybe from the Southern heat that borders on boggy most days or maybe because frost still clings to Bella's cheeks. It's nice though, brings her out of her head long enough to sit on a flat rock in the middle of the stream at Alice's request.
Wading in behind her with the basin, Alice pays no mind to the water up to her hips or her dress potentially being ruined. She rests the basin on the log that's either fallen or been knocked down as a makeshift bridge across the deeper part of the creek here.
She drags the sponge over Bella's shoulder, across the ink there. A small, simple tattoo of a church front with 1532 scrawled beneath it. New since Bella last showed Alice her map. The fourth addition.
"It's going to hurt for a long time, Bella," she whispers against the tattoo and wraps her arms around the unresponsive girl's midsection. "And I'm so sorry for that. But you will get through it, I promise. I've seen it. These shoulders will bear a lot but you can do it, don't ever forget that. Even if it takes a while, Bella, you're worth waiting for. Everyone who knows you knows this. So take your time, let the wounds close. We'll be here for you when you're ready."
And they stay like that, with Alice holding her until Bella stops shivering and the blood that stains her hands rinses clean.