IM BAAACCCKKKKK! I love you guys! you really helped me get back on top of this whole plagiarism fiasco. Thanks again! You're gonna hate me after this chapter though.

-Last time-

"I'll always love you, but-" He paused. "But I don't know if I can trust you, Bella." He paused, taking in my hurt expression. "I mean, you didn't trust me, you kept this secret for all this time, and you should have told me. I always made it clear that you could trust me. But I can't trust you anymore." And with that, he turned on his heel and he left.

Chapter 10

A sob escaped my lips and the room blurred with tears waiting to spill out. I curled into a fetal position, ignoring the pain that shot through my body. I let the tears and sobs rip through my body freely now. With each sob I remembered Edward's harsh words. "But I can't trust you anymore Bella."

Another emotion boiled beneath my sorrow, and it was anger, anger at Rosalie. If it weren't for her, Edward and I would still be together, and Jasper would have been home that night, he wouldn't have been driving Rose to the mall. Cold and harsh, anger snuck its slimy hands around my heart and grasped.

Time was meaningless, had it been hours or merely minutes? Eventually, an upbeat knock rapped through the room. I didn't bother responding. I heard the door creak open; "Bella? Are you awake?" Jasper's whispered voice cut through the room like a knife. Upon viewing my face, Jasper's jaunty grin withered and died. I watched numbly as Jasper dropped the brown paper bag he was holding and dashed across the room. "Belle, what's wrong? Do you need more pain meds? Is father here? Did he--" I cut Jasper off.

"He's gone." I was slightly surprised at how empty my voice sounded; it was a shallow surprise, however. I was too far gone to find it as fascinating as it would have undoubtedly been. "He's gone." I repeated, as if my endless repetition of the words would bring some comprehension of their meaning. I felt the knot in my throat tighten, I couldn't breathe. My voice became higher, more forced. "He's gone." The words hurt.

Jasper lowered himself to my eye level; "What's wrong, baby? Who's gone?" I could tell that Jasper knew who I was referring to, but he either couldn't or didn't want to believe it.

"I told him, and he left." The words burned in my throat.

Jasper's eyes turned from panicked to angry. "Edward, left?" He snapped. I didn't respond; the tear streaks on my face were answer enough, letting him know his assumption had been correct. Jasper's face softened, care and concern once again shone in his features. He climbed into the hospital bed next to me; I tried to move over to make more room for him. Jasper figured out what I was doing before I made any progress. "Don't," he said, authority ringing in his soft tone. I was too tired and upset to argue, so I turned my face and cried.

I cried for everything Father had done to me since I was four. I cried for Mommy. I cried for my family, and for my friendships, often accumulated and taken advantage of, soon to be lost. But most of all, I cried for Edward. I cried for all of our happy memories, for every minute of sheer bliss, now gone forever. I was escaping, leaving Father, the greatest oppressor in my life. So why did it hurt so much? Why were the potential drawbacks suddenly overshadowing the potential advantages?

Jasper held me tight through my tears and thoughts, whispering "You're the Belle of the world." Or "Shh, you're alright. You're going to be alright." He stroked my hair the whole time with his free hand.

Jasper never told me to stop crying. Maybe he recognized that I needed this, because somewhere, in all that sobbing, my heart had softened.

My anger at Rosalie dissolved. Something about my anger at father had changed too. Just the tiniest tweak, like a poorly placed move in Jenga®, the walls of anger I had built around myself crumbled.

The anger, the same anger that convinced me to tell Edward, to take a stand, lay in ruins around me. Now I sat vulnerable, susceptible to pain, and to sorrow. I had finally stripped away that last bit of protection. Somehow, through the fear, I felt, lighter.

I knew it was only a matter of time before my heart, flighty in its attempts to keep me whole, submitted to the crushing pain of before. I also knew that the trade wasn't worth it. Losing my friends to a few bruises? It seemed so childish. I had to use my clearness of thoughts to my advantage.

I attempted to straighten myself in Jasper's arms, and gasped in pain. Moving with extensive injuries wasn't wise. "Jazz?" I whispered. "Jazzy?" my voice crackled.

Jasper loosened his grip and sighed. "Yes Bella?"

I looked up. Jasper's face was grave, he appeared to have aged 10 years since he sat down with me. My voice became smaller in anticipation. "I don't think--" I paused, unsure of the safest way to phrase this. "I don't want to press charges."

I could feel Jasper stiffen. His grasp on my shoulders tightened. "Bells, don't do this. Not again." His grip kept tightening.

"Jazz, you're-" I interrupted, gasping in pain, I could feel my stitches throb.

Jasper couldn't be interrupted in his anger. His grip continued to tighten. "No Bells, we have to press charges. We can't let him win."

Jasper's words were insignificant compared to the resulting pain of his tightening hands. I could feel the stitches stretch over my shoulder. "Jazz?"

Jasper continued to ignore me. "No, this won't do. You must Bella. You have to press charges." His rambling continued. Did he even care that I was in pain?

The stitches stretched tighter over my now throbbing shoulder. "Jazzy. Please. Please." Begging had sometimes worked with Father; maybe it could help with the monster his son was becoming.

Jasper just got angrier. His grip tightened, and I felt the stitches pop. I let out a gasp, small and terrified as I felt the blood flow down my arm.

After all my yelling for his attention, this tiny gasp snapped him out of the trance he was in. Jasper gulped and unclasped his hand from my bleeding bruised shoulder. He stared from his hands to my shoulder, as if unable to comprehend the connection between the two.

When Jasper finally spoke, his face was pale, and his voice was weak. "Bells. I'm so sorry, please, you have to forgive me. Please! Oh Bella, I'm so sorry!"

I wanted to respond. I wanted to grab Jasper and tell him that it wasn't his fault; that I was okay. My lips couldn't move. My heart wanted to reach out to Jasper, to help him. But in my mind, for just one second, I saw father in Jasper's features. My heart still loved my brother dearly, but my mind was petrified with fear.