Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight or its amazingly hot characters
Warning: This story contains disciplinary spanking, so if that's not your thing then don't bother reading or flaming.
A/N: Punishment is over, but Carlisle is still far from whole. New issues arise that need to be dealt with. I did warn you that this story had A LOT of angst.
Thanks for the wonderful reviews! So glad you guys are enjoying this!
Chapter 11: Trauma
Esme's POV:
Several tears managed to escape me as I held my distraught husband in my arms. His shoulders shook and tears cascaded down his cheeks but he allowed no sounds to escape. This silence hurt me as I had no doubt that this was another result of his father's abuse. We were definitely going to need to have a serious discussion about his father, but not right now.
I stared down at Carlisle with sorrowful eyes. His head was buried in my chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around me. My mind flashed to the end of his spanking and how he had actually cried out in pain, the smell of his venom tears filling the room. Watching him now as he still stubbornly tried to remain silent, I decided to speak.
"It's alright darling, just let it all out," I encouraged softly. "You don't need to hold it in. I've got you and I will not let you go." I ran my hand lovingly through his hair over and over. "I am not your father Carlisle, I am your wife and I love you. You do not have to hide anything from me, so please darling, please just let go."
My words seemed to have the desired effect because a loud sob echoed through the room as my husband finally let go of the last bit of control he had. I felt little relief though as his sorrowful cries tore through me. I had accomplished what I had set out to do. I had broken my husband, and I felt nothing but self loathing at the pitiful state I had reduced him to. I had never in all my years seen him so brokenhearted. I had never seen him openly cry in this manner and I hated myself for having done this to him. My husband was strong, always in control. He was our rock, and I had just torn him down.
Stop it Esme! I scolded myself harshly. Your pitying thoughts are not helping anything. If you feel you truly broke your husband then fix this by putting him back together. Pick him back up and help him recover. I took in a deep breath before gritting my teeth and putting forth all my efforts into consoling Carlisle. Now was not the time for me to be having doubts. Now was the time for me to finish what I had set out to do. Punishment had been doled out, and now it was time for comfort. Carlisle needed me and I would not fail him.
Oh, but I hoped this punishment worked. I hoped he could forgive himself because I didn't know what else to do, and I would hate for this all to have been for naught.
As his sobs continued I decided to hum a soothing melody for him in hopes that it would prove as calming for him as it did for our children.
Emmett's POV:
It was late Saturday night, well, technically it was early Sunday morning and the house was quiet, which was way weird seeing as all my siblings were present. No one was talking, laughing, or even arguing. The atmosphere was tense and anxious, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't Jasper's doing. We were all lounging out in the living room waiting for Mom to call us with some hopefully good news.
I stood by the phone (sitting was still not an option) while Rose stood faithfully by my side, her hand in mine. Jasper sat on the couch, Alice in his arms while Edward stood stoically by the window just staring out it as though hoping to see our parents walking out of the forest.
I hated this. It wasn't supposed to be this way. We shouldn't be sitting here twiddling our thumbs while we waited to hear from Mom. There had to be something, anything we could be doing to set things right.
I was angry. Angry at myself for what I had done, and for how I reacted. Angry at myself for not being able to fix this, and for not being able to cheer my siblings up. I wasn't quite myself. I was also angry with Pops. Angry over what he had done, angry over him leaving, and angry over the trouble he was giving Mom about coming home. I meant it when I told Mom I'd give the guy a good kick in the arse to get him here. I was also angry at Mom, and I couldn't help but feel guilty about that one. I was angry over how she left for those two weeks, because if she hadn't then none of this would've happened. And I was angry over how she had just left us here, not telling us where she was going, not letting us help, and for not letting Alice look into their futures. I mean really, she must know we're all freakin out over here!
I bit back a disgruntled sigh as I shifted from one foot to the other. I was a man of action, and standing here was definitely not actiony enough for me!
My gaze shifted towards Alice when as she abruptly stood up, and began to pace in front of the couch.
"This is ridiculous!" she screamed, running both her hands through her spiky, black hair. Soldier boy immediately got up, wrapping both his arms around her in an attempt to calm her, but she wasn't having it. "Why did she forbid me from looking into their futures? What if they're in trouble? What if they need us?" she asked rapidly, staring at each of us with wide concerned eyes. I wished I knew the answer to her questions, but I didn't, and once more my self-loathing popped up. Why did I have to be so freakin' brainless? Why did I have to go and tick off Pops like that? This was all my fault, and if Pops never came home I'd never forgive myself. I wished Mom would call cuz I'd already decided that I'd tell her that I would leave home if it meant Pops would come home to the others. Mom and my siblings didn't deserve to lose him because I couldn't seem to behave.
I heard a snort and locked eyes with Edward who was giving me a half 'I feel sorry for you' look, and a half 'you're being an idiot' look. What? I questioned him somewhat defensively. I'm serious. If my leaving means Pops will come home, then I'll do it.
Edward gave another snort as he rolled his eyes before drily stating, "And here I thought Rosalie was the drama queen of the family." We had all our siblings' attentions at this point, my Rosie staring at me in concern before glaring at Edward.
"Emmett here thinks Dads not coming home because of him. He's blaming himself for all that's happened and says the next time Mom calls he's going to tell her that he'll leave if it means that Dad will come home," Edward informed everyone, and I mentally cursed my dear brother for sharing my thoughts before taking note of Rose and my siblings reactions.
"Emmett, don't be ridiculous," Rosalie immediately stated as she stared at me with fierce eyes. "You are not to blame in the slightest! This is all Dads fault! He was the one that hurt you, not the other way around!"
"I don't know about it all being Dad's fault," Jasper inputted, "but it sure as hell ain't all yer fault Emmett."
"Dad would never want you to leave, and Mom wouldn't either," Alice added with utter certainty.
"Besides," Edward stated, "If Dad doesn't come home, it wouldn't be because he blames you in any way. I thought you knew him better than that. He no doubt blames himself and can't live with what he's done to you. You all know about Dad's childhood, and how his father treated him," he explained, and we all gave solemn nods. "Well, Dad's biggest fear is that he would one day treat us as his father treated him, and right now I have no doubt he believes he did just that."
"That's bull!" I burst out in anger. "I mean yeah, my whipping was no picnic, but he sure as hell didn't treat me the way his old man treated him. He didn't abuse me…did he?" I tacked on to the end somewhat uncertainly as I stared into each of my siblings and then Rosalie's faces.
"Yes he did," Rosalie hissed, fury entering into her eyes, while Edward and Alice exchanged uncomfortable looks. Ignoring my Rosie I looked at those two and softly asked, "Did he abuse me?" As embarrassing as it was, I knew they had to have seen part if not all of my punishment from Pops, so they were the only ones who could answer me.
Both Edward and Alice exchanged looks once more before they turned serious eyes towards me.
"Were you afraid?" Edward questioned, and I shifted somewhat in embarrassment wondering why he was asking this before giving a single nod. Yeah, I had been afraid, terrified even. I had never seen Pops so infuriated.
"Will you tell us?" Alice asked in a quiet, hesitant voice, sounding so unlike herself I acquiesced without a single thought.
"I-I've, well, I've never seen Pops so-so furious," I began to recount, my eyes closing as my mind automatically went back to Friday. I heard as my siblings closed in around me, Rosalie giving my hand a comforting squeeze.
"I mean, I know I was givin' him a hard time, being my usual dumb self and all, but I'd never seen him so upset. He wouldn't listen to me," I recalled, the hurt I felt at the moment returning full force. I felt a soothing wave pass through me and flashed Jasper a brief smile. "I was trying to explain to him what happened, but he told me he didn't want to hear it anymore. He said he was fed up with all of our antics and that he was going to make an example of me. I tried to reason with him, but I only angered him more. I-I, well…," I trailed off, giving a nervous swallow as I rubbed a hand over my face. I wasn't so sure I wanted to say this out loud as I looked into the concerned faces of my mate and siblings.
"I was afraid of him," I finally whispered as I stared down at my shoes, my emotions varying between sadness, hurt, anger, and embarrassment. Rosalie let out a fierce growl, muttering quiet threats against Pops while my siblings remained silent. When Rosalie finally fell silent I mustered up the courage to look up and continue speaking.
"He scared me," I stated, my tone much stronger than before. "After I shoved him away from me, there was a-a moment where I thought-where I thought that he was going to knock my lights out," I admitted, noting the renewed anger in Rose's eyes, the horror in Alice's eyes, the betrayal in Edward's eyes, and the sadness in Jasper's eyes.
There were several moments of silence where we each digested what I had said. Did Pops abuse me? He didn't smack me around or anything, and he certainly wanted to from the looks of it. I mean he did slap me, but that was only once. The whipping hurt more than anything, but would I call it abuse? What was I feeling at the time, I asked myself.
Thinking back I recalled how I felt nothing more than fear, hurt, and pain, over agonizing pain. I'd been smacked with the belt a time or two before and it'd never hurt like this, and he'd never smacked me with it so many times. He never once spoke while he was punishing me, and he never once gave me a reassuring word or gesture. To be honest, I never once thought about what had gotten me into that position while I was being punished. In fact, I really didn't feel like I was being punished at all. I only felt, well, I only felt as though I were getting a beating. Damn Pops, I thought in despair. Why? Why did you do that? What did I do to deserve that?
"It wasn't your fault," two voices spoke at once, and my attention focused on Edward and Jasper.
"Don't blame yerself," Jasper stated. "I don't know all the details and I didn't 'see' what happened, but I know nuthin' ya did warranted Carlisle treating ya like that."
"Dad was in the wrong," Edward spoke in a soft, dejected tone. "His worst fear became a reality. He did abuse you."
I registered their words, but I still couldn't help but blame myself. If I wasn't—If I hadn't—If maybe I'd…Sigh.
"There had to have been something I could have done," I told them, "something to have gotten him to stop or gotten him to calm down. I was angry with him in the beginning so I was riling him up"—
"Still not your fault," Rosalie declared firmly, her eyes softening as she looked up at me. "You acted like yourself Emmett. It was Carlisle who lost his temper and took things too far."
I nodded my head, bringing her in for a gentle embrace all the while still feeling guilty. If Pops—No, when Pops came back, and if he wasn't too angry with me I'd have to talk to him and apologize; and then I'd kick his sorry butt for hurting me like that.
"I wish Mom would call," Alice suddenly stated, and we all gave nods of agreement.
"I wonder what's happening," I mentioned, and Alice just let out a groan of frustration.
"If only I hadn't promised Mom not to look into their futures!" she complained, stomping her foot in irritation. Jasper laid a calming hand on her while saying, "Can you at least look into our futures and see when Mom calls?"
Alice blinked at him before closing her eyes and concentration. I knew she had good news when both she and Edward gave smiles of relief.
"Is Pops coming home?" I immediately asked, and Alice's smile vanished to be replaced with a frown.
"I still don't know that, but I do know that Mom is going to be calling at noon today," she said.
"Do you know what she is going to say?" Rosalie asked curiously, and Alice gave a slight shake of her head.
"I'm not sure," she answered unhappily. "It's kind of fuzzy, which means things are obviously still being decided, but I do get the feeling that she's going back and forth on whether or not to ask us to join her and Dad wherever they are."
"So Dad still hasn't decided to come home," Edward mumbled morosely, his eyes shadowed with darkness. I felt another stab of guilt at seeing my brother like this. I mean he was usually all moody and such, but never this much. Putting my arm on his shoulder, I gave him a light shove as I told him, "Pops will come home, I promise you that Edward. Even if we gotta drag him back kicking and screaming," I said with a slight smirk at the mental image that created in my mind, "we'll get him here." Edward gave me a small smile.
"Emmetts right," Alice added with a firm nod of her head. "I don't need a vision to tell me that. Dad loves us. He's just feeling guilty, and I know Mom will be able to help him; and if he needs more incentive she'll call in the cavalry, meaning us to get through his thick head. Our family means the world to Dad, and he would die rather than hurt any of us."
"But if leaving meant he'd be protectin' us, then would he come home?" Jasper asked, and I wanted to slug the idiot because Edward's eyes once more turned downcast. "Sorry," he added upon noting my glare and angry emotions, "I'm just statin' what you were all probably thinkin'. I know Dad would do anything to protect us, which is why I wouldn't put it past him to stay away if it meant he was keepin' us safe. If he saw himself as a danger to us, then he wouldn't come back."
"But he's not a danger to us," I retorted, and Jasper just shrugged his shoulders.
"I know that," he responded, "but does Dad? I think the only way we're gonna be able to convince him to come home is if we all, especially you Em, talk to him. If he's worried that he might hurt one of us again like he did you Emmett, then we'll need to convince him otherwise."
"Well, seeing as we don't know where he's at, we're going to have to wait for Mom to call," I said, and sighs were heard all around before we all went back to our previous positions.
Waiting. Waiting.
Please call soon Mom, I thought pleadingly as I felt the anxiety in the room kick up a notch.
Carlisle's POV:
I was unsure of how long it had been, but I finally felt myself coming under some semblance of control. As I took in several shaky breaths, I took stock of the situation. I was lying in Esme's arms, my face buried into her chest. Her blouse was soaked with my tears, and I felt a mild twinge of guilt knowing I had effectively ruined it. She was humming a lovely tune, one that I had heard her hum to the children on a variety of occasions, the most prominent memory being of her singing to a highly distressed Edward many years ago. It had been shortly after his return from his 'rebellious' years and Esme had held him in her arms, much like she was doing for me and hummed this song to him as he cried to her.
The next thing I noticed was that we were lying on our bed, which confirmed the fuzzy memory I had of her nearly carrying me in here after my, well after my punishment was finished. I stifled a groan of embarrassment as the memory of the punishment came back full force.
"Are you alright Carlisle?" my wife asked, her hand stilling halfway through my hair. I could hear the concern in her voice, but I could also hear a hint of distress and I suddenly felt renewed guilt for what I had forced her to do. What must she think of me? What must she be feeling? Is she still upset with me? Have I disappointed her? Angered her?
"I am so sorry," I murmured repentantly into her neck and she responded by sighing before forcing my head up so that I was looking into her face. Her eyes were kind and loving, but also sad as she tenderly wiped at my face, removing the last of my tears.
"And you are forgiven," she replied softly yet firmly. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I just nodded my head, thinking over what the simple statement meant. She said I was forgiven, but had I forgiven myself? Had this worked? Was I feeling any less guilty than before?
I took stock of my emotions and found that I felt calmer and more relaxed than I had in a while. I was far from perfect, but I no longer felt the crushing weight of guilt I had felt earlier today. The guilt was still there of course, but I had not expected it to vanish. I still had to make amends with my children, Emmett especially before I would be able to let go, and even then I had a feeling this would be a guilt I harbored for the rest of my existence. It would not consume me as it had earlier, but I would not allow it to leave. I would hold onto it as a constant reminder so that I would never allow myself to treat any of my children in the deplorable manner I had treated Emmett.
"How do you feel?" Esme then asked as she sat up, pulling me up with her. I was opening my mouth to answer when my backside touched the mattress. I immediately froze, clamping my mouth shut tightly to keep from making a sound as I tried to process and deal with the pain. Bloody hell, but that stung something fierce!
"Carlisle, what is it? What's wrong?" Esme burst out rapidly in clear worry. "What is it?"
I closed my eyes briefly as I shook my head at her. "I'm fine," I managed to say through gritted teeth, but this was the wrong response as my dear, sweet Esme's face closed off momentarily before she let out a hiss as she got up off the bed and began to pace. I stared at her with wide eyes as I too quickly got myself up off the bed, all too happy to relieve the burn. I watched nervously as Esme paced back a forth a few times before stiffening when she shot me a frigid glare. Stalking on over to me, I resisted the urge to back away when she stood before me with crossed arms.
"What did I do?" I asked without thought, but apparently that was also the wrong thing to say because she let out a frustrated yell before launching into a tirade.
"I cannot believe you Carlisle Cullen!" she snapped angrily, and I decided it would be best for me to remain silent at this point. Best to let her get this off her chest, I thought. "You completely freeze, snapping your mouth shut as though in pain, and when I ask you what the matter is you answer fine! Fine? Really Carlisle?" she questioned angrily with hands on her hips.
"I am tired of you hiding your pain from me! I am tired of you keeping things from me because you feel I cannot handle them! I am tired of you trying to protect me! Be honest with me Carlisle! No matter how much it will hurt me, I swear to you it hurts even more to know you are keeping things from me. It hurts me even more to know you are dealing with pain or hurt on your own because you are worried of how it will affect me," she lectured, her anger leaving the more she spoke only to be replaced with hurt, frustration, and fatigue. She sounded so tired and so spent.
She was right, of course. She had all the right in the world to be angry with me. I did have a habit of keeping things from her, but it was always with the best intentions.
Well, have you not heard the expression, 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'? I gave a mental frown at that thought.
"I am deeply sorry Esme," I informed her guiltily when she had finally calmed herself down. "I don't know why I am this way. I don't mean to shut you out, and I definitely don't believe you to be too weak to handle my troubles," I hurried to assure her, but she just gazed at me with sad, pitying eyes.
"You don't know why?" she questioned in disbelief, and I gave a confused shake of my head.
"Darling," she spoke softly as she made her way over to me, "this is all a result of your childhood, of the abuse you suffered at the hands of Samuel. Don't you see?" she asked, and I immediately tensed, not wanting to get into this discussion at all.
"Do not do this," my wife quickly pleaded as she ran one hand up my stomach while the other forced me to look at her. "Do not close yourself off to me anymore. Do not try and stop this discussion because it needs to happen. You need to talk about this Carlisle, and there is no time like the present."
"I do not need to talk about anything," I protested stiffly, but she just shook her head at me.
"You are so blind and pigheaded," she muttered as she let go of my face, and I gave her an offended look, causing her to smile slightly.
"It's true," she assured me. "You fail to see the impact Samuel has had and continues to have in your life. You have told me that you long ago dealt with your past, but I am here to tell you that you are wrong. You did not deal with anything, you only buried it. Buried it so deeply you became unaware your demons were still there. You are an expert at hiding what you are feeling, and an expert at deception. You are such an expert you have not only fooled me and our children, but you have even fooled yourself."
I frowned at her words, a part of me believing, but an even larger part of me not wanting to believe. "No Esme," I countered, "you're wrong. What happened during my punishment was a one time occurrence. I barely even think about Samuel anymore," I assured her, but even as I said the words I wasn't quite sure I was telling the truth. Samuel had been on my thoughts several times these past few days.
"You are lying," Esme retorted with such certainty I knew there was no point in denying it. Further lies would only infuriate and disappoint her, and I had done enough of that in the past few days to last a lifetime.
"You don't even realize how badly you have been affected, do you?" she then pressed when I failed to respond. I had no idea what to say to that, so I broke away from her and took a few steps towards the window. I looked out and noticed it was dark. What time was it? What day was it? I could still see rain, but it was only a drizzle, and it seemed the wind had died down too. My mind unconsciously flashed back to the memory I had been reliving recently before I forcefully brought myself back to the present. No Carlisle, I scolded myself, live in the here and now. Quit focusing on the past. The past is meant to stay there. It cannot hurt you.
I gripped the windowsill with both hands as I repeated these words to myself, but it did not help me. In fact, the more I repeated those words the more I could not help but realize how false they were. The past could not hurt me? Yeah right, it hurt me all the time. He still hurt me all the time. Just look at yesterday. Look at that memory and how it affected me. I got lost in that memory how many times? And during my punishment as well!
I heard a loud snap and uttered a quiet curse as I realized I had broken off a piece of the windowsill. Quickly turning towards Esme to offer yet another apology, I fell silent at the utter helplessness on her face. Had I caused this?
"What is it?" I asked, knowing I was the cause but at the same time hoping I was wrong.
"You," she answered in a despairing tone, and I could not help but flinch. "I don't know how to help you Carlisle if you refuse to acknowledge the fact that your father left more than physical scars on you. Are you truly so blind or are you just being stubborn?" she asked, more to herself than to me.
'I'm fine', I wanted to scream to her, but I was realizing more and more what a bold face lie that was. Was I really so blind or simply being stubborn? I truly did believe I had dealt with my past, that I had overcome it, but had I really? Or had I done as Esme had said and just buried it so deep within me that I had not realized it was even there? I was an excellent liar, I had been since boyhood, but was I so good that I had fooled even myself? Had I really been lying to myself all these years?
I turned my back on Esme to once more stare out into the forest. It was slightly lighter than before, which led me to the conclusion that it was early morning. It must be Sunday, I mused distractedly before refocusing my thoughts once more.
Why did Esme want to discuss my father? Was it because of the flashback? That could have been a onetime occurrence brought upon by the circumstances we were in. Perfectly acceptable considering my upbringing, so there was really no need to discuss this seeing as I never planned on ending up in that position ever again.
But why did she believe I needed help? Was I truly that affected by my father? I will admit he had been plaguing my mind quite frequently as of late, but that was not the norm. I did think of him every now and then but I would not say he negatively affected me. I just used my memories of him to keep from acting like him.
Was that true though? Did he really no longer negatively affect me? How many times had I wallowed in self pity because I felt I had acted like him? How many times had I heard his voice cruelly ridiculing me as he had done in life? How many times had events in my life triggered memories of him? How many times had I lost myself in my human memories? And did they not always include Samuel?
I let out a weary sigh and leaning into the windowsill, careful this time not to grip the wood too tightly.
Why was this relevant right now? Could she not see that I was not in the right frame of mind to be discussing this? My emotions had been haywire for over a week now, and I had completely lost control of them today. I was emotionally and mentally spent. I would not be able to stand talking about Samuel without losing my temper or breaking down and crying.
My mind flashed to Sarah and her glaring, accusatory eyes as I shot her. I had killed her. I had killed that innocent woman. She had not been the first person I had seen killed. She had not even been the first person I had led to their death by means of capture. She had been the first person I myself had killed though.
A shiver passed through my body, and I immediately released my grip from the windowsill as I did not want to cause anymore damage. Tears prickled at my eyes and I found it much harder than usual to keep them at bay. I figured with all the crying I had just done my tears would have been spent, but it seemed they wanted to keep flowing.
How could I tell Esme about this event? How could I tell my children? What would they think of me? I had no excuse. I was not a vampire at that time, whose very nature compelled them to feed on humans. I was a human myself. I had no excuse.
I closed my eyes and became dismayed at how easily I was beginning to remember more and more of my human life. Nearly all of the memories included my father, and very few were what I would consider a happy memory. I wondered why I was suddenly recalling so much, and I decided the events with Emmett must have triggered something.
Unlike Rosalie, I had allowed the transformation to take nearly all my memories from me. I had been all too happy to forget Samuel, to forget the abuse, and to forget the atrocities I had been a part of and committed. I had been all too happy to forget all the lives I had ruined.
As the years went on I had found myself remembering little bits here and there. When Edward first joined me I had recalled more, and as my family continued to grow I sporadically gained a new lost memory here and there. Since Friday, however, I had gained an influx, the memory with Sarah being the worst.
Why? Why did I have to remember all this? Was this God's way of punishing me? Was he warning me?
I stiffened suddenly when I felt a delicate hand run along my back. Relaxing when I realized it was just Esme I turned around and wrapped my arms around her. I buried my head in her hair as she ran her hand up and down my back in a comforting gesture. I was shaking slightly, and I inwardly cursed myself for showing such vulnerability.
Do not be ashamed, another part of be retorted with confidence. Esme does not and will not ever look down on you for needing comfort. She loves you, and all she wants to do is help you. Let her in. Let her in!
Look at this from her point of view. Your stubbornness is causing her more harm than good. Think back and remember how broken Esme was over the loss of her infant son. Remember how traumatized she was by the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her vile husband. Did she shut you out? Did she try and hide her feelings from you?
I allowed my mind to drift back to those first few years with Esme when our relationship was still so new and we were both still so fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing. From the moment Esme had first awoken to this life I had seen the negative impact her life had on her. I had seen how a once vivacious and lively young woman had been turned into someone who was quiet, meek, and compliant. I knew part of this could be attributed to her experiences, but I also remembered fearing that she may have been afraid of or resentful of me. Thank God for Edward.
My dear son had been a godsend in those days. With is ability he had been able to reassure me that Esme held no ill will towards me at all. He had given me the basic gist of what Esme had suffered, deciding to keep the more morbid details to himself. The details he had given me though were more than enough.
I did not set out to force Esme to talk about anything at first. I just helped her adjust to this new life while at the same time showing her that not all men were cruel. I spent quite a bit of time with her, and more quickly than I would have imagined I found myself quite smitten. Truthfully, I had not quite realized how enamored I was until one evening Edward, no doubt irritated by all my 'lovey dovey' thoughts as he called it, shouted "If you love her so much then just tell her for God's sake, Carlisle!"
Anyhow, after coming to terms with my feelings and eventually finding out to my eternal joy that Esme felt the same way I slowly began to extricate little details of her human life from her. She was quite private, and I had no desire to push her away, so I never pressed the matter. I knew she was still affected by all that had happened to her, but I had no idea how deeply those mental scars went, at least not until one day I arrived home to find Edward yelling at her. He had been angrily accusing her of having stolen one of his books and had either failed to notice or did not care that Esme stood frozen, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes full of apology. She did not even try to defend herself or refute Edward's false accusations, for his precious book had not been stolen; it had been borrowed by me.
Having seen more than enough I had furiously interrupted my son's tirade, a small argument ensuing between us before I had landed a rather harsh swat on the boy's backside and sent him to his room. Once he had complied I had turned and taken a step towards Esme only to become horrified when she flinched, her wide, fearful eyes directed towards me now.
I had immediately taken several steps away from her, holding my hands up to show her I meant no harm while at the same time kneeling on the floor. I had wanted to appear as nonthreatening as possible, and it had thankfully worked for she had lost the fearful look. She still eyed me warily, but I had been able to convince her that I meant no harm and that I would never ever lay a hand on her out of anger. When she finally believed me she had broken into tears, deeply ashamed of her reaction. She had been fearful that I would look down on her because of this, or that I would see her as too broken, but I had somehow fallen in love with her even more.
After showering her with reassurances, love, and plenty of affection we had discussed what had happened with Edward. She confessed that Edward's angry outburst had caused her mind to flash back to Charles and that truthfully she had no idea what Edward had even been upset about because her mind had been in another time. My abrupt entrance had startled her back to the present, but my apparent fury at the situation had scared her. I gently pressed her for more details, and she admitted that she thought I would be angry with her for having upset Edward. However, she then recounted how she had become confused when I had begun to berate Edward, only to become fearful once more when she saw me hit him.
I groaned internally at the mere memory of that. Esme had been convinced at that point that I was abusing Edward, which is why she had turned fearful eyes towards me. She had felt that she too was about to be hit. I had been appalled by her thoughts and had immediately set about disavowing her of those horrible notions. It had taken a very long discussion though, and Edward's input before I had been able to convince her that I had not and would not ever abuse Edward. It had then taken even longer before she had been able to accept that I would be spanking Edward for his treatment of her. Once again Edward had been of great service in convincing her, but I was sure he did it more as a means of trying to soften me up so as to save his backside rather than pure selflessness.
Anyways, after this whole debacle ended I had felt it necessary to convince Esme to talk with me, and to explain what had happened to her and how she had felt. It had not been easy or pleasant, but it had worked. I had been able to help her battle some demons, and slowly but surely I watched as Esme became lively, exuberant, and confident. I really knew our talks had helped when several months after the incident she had felt secure enough to stand up to me in order to protect 'her precious baby' (her words, not mine) from a good hiding. I had been so elated by the fearlessness in her eyes as she stared me down that I had immediately decided to give in. I had put up a fight, just for pretenses, but I had allowed her to win. I gave a mental grin as I recalled the look of awe Edward had sported upon hearing my decision and the new found respect he had for Esme. Their relationship had grown much closer after that day.
Bringing my mind back to the present I realized how unfair I had been with my wife. She had shared her worst memories with me and had held nothing back. Even though she had been afraid of what I may have thought she had fearlessly recounted her horrible memories. I on the other hand had not been so open with her. The day Esme had discovered the scars on my back had been the first time I had ever informed her of anything regarding my human life; and even then I had given her minimal details. I had convinced her that the past did not affect me, and she had no reason not to believe me.
I was a coward, I realized with deepening shame. I was afraid to reveal my past because I did not want Esme or my children to view me any differently. I knew how they all looked to me for guidance and comfort. I knew how they all thought I did no wrong. The children always described me as perfect, and while I always argued with them that I was not, I really enjoyed how highly they regarded me. They felt there was nothing I could not overcome and that there was no challenge I could not deal with. But they were wrong, so very wrong.
Each member of my family had suffered trauma during their human lives. Esme had been abused by her husband and lost a child. Edward had lost both his parents and nearly his own life to influenza. Rosalie had been raped by her fiancé and his friends. Emmett had been nearly mauled to death by a grizzly bear. Alice had woken up alone with no memory of who she was. Jasper had experienced war in both lives, suffering at the hand of an abusive, manipulative creator that played with his emotions.
These traumas left their scars, some physical, but mostly mental. It had taken time and patience, but I, along with Esme had been able to help every member overcome their demons. Each time different methods had to be used along with lots of patience, but we had been successful. While my children would never forget the horrors of their past, they had learned to overcome and move past them. I would never claim they were 100% alright. They never would be, but they knew, my wife included that they could come to me if they ever needed to talk. They knew I would listen and not judge, which was usually the most important thing to them. They knew I would never look down on them or consider them weak for what had happened, or for the fact that they needed help or just a good cry.
Should I not allow myself the same courtesy? Should I not feel comfortable enough to talk to someone?
I should not need to, a part of me protested. I should be able to deal with this all on my own!
Did I expect Esme or the kids to deal with their problems on their own? Would I want them to suffer alone?
No, of course not! But I am not them. I am the patriarch of our family. They look to me for strength, comfort, and guidance. I cannot come across as weak or vulnerable.
Is it a weakness to ask for help—to talk about one's problems? I just stated that I did not judge my wife and children, so why did I judge myself so harshly?
Because you do not deserve the same privileges as the others, a vile voice hissed in my mind. Your weakness disgusts me and will disgust them. You open yourself up to them and they will see how horrible a person you really are.
I stiffened before hastily breaking away from Esme. Running a shaky hand through my hair I paced the length of the room like a caged animal, shaking my head and rubbing at my eyes with the palm of my hands in an attempt to rid myself of Samuel's hateful words. He's lying. He doesn't know anything. He's wrong!
Wrong, am I? the voice sneered in scornful amusement. You know I speak the truth, Boy. That is why you have barely spoken of your past. You know they will hate you for what you have done.
NO! I screamed mentally as I shut my eyes and shook my head. That is not true!
I flinched when I felt hands grabbing hold of my arms before beginning to struggle, dimly noting as someone shouted my name.
They will discover what an utter fake and failure you are, Carlisle. They will see you for the monster you truly are, and then they will hate you just as I do!
Hands continued grabbing onto me and in a burst of fury and panic I roughly shoved my attacker off of me.
It was the cry of pain (or was it surprise?) of a woman that finally caused me to open my eyes, and when I did absolute horror coursed through me as I stared wide-eyed at my wife who was lying on the floor staring back at me equally wide-eyed.
My mind went blank with shock as I found myself incapable of processing what I had just done. Esme it seemed had no such problems for she slowly stood up, brushing off some of the debris that had fallen on her when she had crashed into the bookshelf.
"Carlisle?" she called softly, and it was her voice that finally jump started my brain.
Oh. My. God. Oh my God. Oh my God! What did I just do? I-I struck my wife! I hurt my wife! First my son and now my wife! Horror, guilt, sorrow, terror, and panic quickly seized me and my muscles tensed as I prepared to run.
"Carlisle, it is alright darling. I am unharmed—Carlisle Cullen, do not run!" Esme ordered sharply when I had turned towards the doorway. I froze, unsure of why I was listening before deciding that running would be cowardly. If she was furious with me then I should accept whatever she did or said to me like a man.
Esme's POV:
My mind was reeling with what had just happened. I had been comforting Carlisle when he had suddenly stiffened and pulled away from me. I had watched as he had paced, rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He looked distressed so I had walked over and grabbed his hands to take them away from his face, but he had fought me. I had called his name, but it was like he could not hear me. Fearing he was experiencing another flashback I had continued to try and get his attention, but he had reacted by shoving me into the bookshelf.
I had certainly been shocked, but completely unharmed. Staring up at my wide-eyed husband I knew right away that from the look of horror in his eyes that this had been a complete accident. I knew he would never hurt me, but I also knew Carlisle was most likely panicking right now. With what happened with Emmett, and the emotional turmoil of our discussion and his punishment, I had no doubt Carlisle was being far from rational. That was why I had immediately zoned in on his desire to run and had put an abrupt stop to it. I will admit to being somewhat surprised that he had listened, but I was grateful. Carlisle was faster than me, and I had no doubt that if he wanted to get away from me he would succeed.
"Carlisle, I am not angry with you," I told him softly when he had finally turned to face me once more. His eyes were pitch black again and looked so haunted I just wanted to cry. His face was so full of pain and sorrow, and he looked absolutely terrified, which cut me right to the core. He was afraid of my reaction. My husband, my rock was afraid of what I was about to do.
"It's alright darling, I am perfectly fine. I am not angry and I am not going to hurt you," I told him in a quiet, gentle voice as I inched towards him in a nonthreatening manner. He blinked, his face losing some of the terror but he continued to remain frozen. I inched forward a little more, my heart nearly breaking as his wide eyes, so full of guilt that just begged for forgiveness, followed my every movement. He looked very much like a young boy waiting to be struck.
Once I stood before him I slowly grabbed one of his hands with mine before even more slowly reaching up a hand towards his face. Ignoring the way his body tensed and the nearly imperceptible flinch he gave I rested my hand on his cheek before moving it to the back of his neck. Pulling his head down slightly so that our foreheads touched I lovingly looked into his apologetic eyes I stated, "I love you Carlisle, and you have my forgiveness." I wanted to say that he had done nothing that needed my forgiveness, but I knew his guilty conscience would never accept that.
My heartfelt, simple words seemed to have gotten through to him for pure, unadulterated relief seemed to pour off of him as a few tears trailed down his face.
"Esme," he moaned, but I shushed him as I brought up my other hand and ran it up the back of his hair.
"Everything is fine Carlisle, everything is fine," I reassured him, but he just shook his head, more tears beginning to fall as he thickly retorted, "No, it's not." And with that, his shoulders began to shake and he closed his eyes as he began to cry. His legs seemed to give out shortly afterwards because we then found ourselves on the floor, me seated and he lying down with his head buried in my lap.
A/N: I bet you thought all the angst was over, didn't you? Well, I did warn you that this story had tons of it! Carlisle had nearly dealt with the guilt of what happened with Emmett, but now it's time to deal with his past. Get ready for several more angst filled chapters! AND PLEASE REVIEW! Your delightful comments keep me writing! :D