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CHAPTER NINE

Rosalie's POV

"Darling," a middle aged woman with kind, blue eyes rushed up to the younger girl and engulfed her in her arms. "I've missed you so much!"

Rosalie Hale relaxed into the embrace of her mother. Being with her grandmother was amazing as she thoroughly enjoyed the holiday from home, but being away from home had taken a toll on the girl. To be home was such a relief, to the small town when everyone knew each other and the comforting scents of her house. Oh how she had missed everyone here!

She laughed soundly as she hugged her back. "It is good to be back, and I can't wait to tell you everything!" She said as they broke apart.

Her mother smiled warmly and helped take some of her things.

"Well you can tell me all about it in the car, your father wanted to be here but you know how the office can get," she said finishing with a sad smile.

Rosalie looked apprehensively at her mother, she knew exactly what her mother meant. Her father was a workaholic, constantly wasting his life away in that damn office, cooped up and probably drinking his Bourbon to help with the long hours. She loved her father, but she couldn't say that she knew the man very well, he wasn't home enough for her to have the chance.

"It's alright Mother, I know he's busy," she said in attempt to sooth her mother's worries. Rosalie knew her mother would drive herself into a depression if she didn't keep her happy. "And besides, it's a lot of girl talk anyway!" She finished with a bright smile.

Her mother's face quickly turned up and all the worries seemed to wash away. And for once, all was well.

"Good, well let's get home" her mother said.

Rosalie watched her mother walk towards the car, but then turned her head, her eyes scanning the crowd until they found the object of her interest. At the distance, she saw the young man she shared a compartment with walking up to a woman warily, a tension thick between them. The other man, Emmett, stood to the side her sharp gray eyes piercing straight through the lady.

The woman was blond and probably the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. But the woman was older, around the same age as her own mother. Completely enraptured by the scene in front of her, she was unaware of her mother's callings.

Soon Edward turned his head and his dark eyes held her gaze. There was something about his gaze that slightly unnerved her and yet enticed her all the same. He was an extremely handsome man, with something dark of the heir around him. She wanted to get to know this man, to uncover him. His eyes were so intense, so seductive and she found herself completely entranced. The whole world seemed to disappear and only he existed.

"Rosalie," the feeling of a hand on her arm shook her out of her reverie. "Are you coming?"

Quickly tearing her gaze from him, she apologized to her mother and began walking away, but not before giving one more look to his direction. It was strange, the minute she met Emmett, she was immediately drawn in by his wavy brown hair and gray eyes, his voice was soothing and she would be blind not to find him attractive. But as soon as she made eye contact with other, she found she was entranced. Everything about him screamed power, he was a most handsome man indeed, curly black hair and piercing blue eyes, so different than the quiet sweet man beside him.

And she couldn't help how she hoped to see him again


Edward's POV

The air is eerily silent as I ride in the back of the all too familiar black car with Emmett who is still sulking. In my line of vision I see my mother is playing with her hands nervously, unsure what to say. Six years since I have seen her face, not once did she come to visit me while I was in the institution. No she just left me there, no doubtfully due to Jack, the bastard doesn't deserve the title father. I shouldn't find it so strange that she appears so differently now, it's quite obvious the past six years have taken a toll on her. She seems withered, aged by depression and anxiety.

Or was it she was always this way, I had just failed to notice it?

Of course it doesn't really matter, it's not as if there's anything I can do to change it. If she spent the last six years drowning in guilt for what she did to me, she deserves it. She wrenched me from the only person I had ever found love and acceptance in. Granted SHE wasn't real, and had I just been given time I would've realized that and grown out of such childish pretend games.

"Your father would be here if he could," she begins quietly. "He's just been so busy at work lately," she rambles on knowing it won't make any difference to me.

Jack never liked me to begin with, I was always his weak and embarrassing son, why would he start to appreciate me now? But I guess it's just easier for my mother to pretend he cares than to face the hard truth. They say the truth sets you free, but what if it doesn't, what if it only brings to light the bars caging you in? What good is truth when it only shows the horror without offering solutions, when it only proves how enslaved you are?

"Of course," I respond quickly, feeding her the lie she wants to hear.

Maybe life is better this way, for her anyways. To live in complete ignorance of the life you're living and to just pretend that it's something that's not. One doesn't have to deal with consequences of their actions if they refuse to acknowledge them. Of course someone pays, someone always has to pay and I guess the cards fell to me, because lord knows my parents aren't paying.

She simply turns and smiles weakly at me, appreciating that I allow her to live in this fantasy she's built in her mind a little while longer.

"So your psychiatrist tells me you did quite well during your treatment," she starts her voice a starting to get a little brighter.

Inwardly I scowl at her term treatment. What they did to me wasn't treatment, it was hell.

"You mean captivity," I scoff directing my harsh gaze to her momentarily before averting my gaze out the window. I don't miss the flicker of pain across her eyes, she knows I'm right no matter how she tries to deny it. "And yes, I decided that I wanted to make something out of myself once I left. The institution will not define me, merely show everything I've accomplished, what I've overcome." I finish a little more softly.

She simply peers at me before shaking her head.

"You're so like your father, always wanting more." She mumbles.

Immediately anger wells up inside me at her comment. I am nothing like Jack, or her I might add. I would never do to a child what they did to me, especially my own child. But I hold my tongue because saying anything would only cause a fight, a fight I cannot win. You cannot make someone see something they simply don't want to see.

Instead I just continue to stare out the window watching the trees blur into melting colors. A part of me is slightly concerned what I will be coming home to, that maybe I really was sick. But as soon as the thought enters my minds, I shake it off. Doubt is the beginning of fear, and fear is the beginning of sickness.

"Speaking of your father," she begins timidly. "A little while after your treatment began, we bought another house. We were going to sell the old one, but your father insisted it would be better if we kept it for your own use after you were released" she says and immediately I'm sitting up paying attention as well Emmett. "The house is paid for, only the electricity and water is what we ask you pay once you are able to obtain a job. Seeing as Emmett needs a place to stay, this works out perfectly." She says as she looks at me through the mirror. "The is house is yours Edward, when you reach the age of twenty-one the title will be in your name. Then you can decide to keep it and start a family, or choose to sell it. Either way it's your decision," she finishes.

Finally her little speech makes full meaning in my head, she's leaving me alone? While the thought of actually being without them is rather nice, it's the notion she just had me hauled off to a mental institution where I rotted for six years and not once didn't come to see me or speak to me, to now dropping me off at home to be completely alone where they would go out of the way to pay extra money just not see me again. This is not surprising from Jack, but from her? I guess I assumed she would have put her foot down a little harder. It's funny how despite everything she's done and allowed that she still is able to hurt me with her indifference.

So I choose not to speak, when has speaking ever changed anything between us before?

As we ride for what seems like an eternity, the iron gate comes into view and knots form their way into my stomach. Approaching the house, I swallow a lump of insecurity. I was no longer a child, and I have done away with childish things. I have grown up and it's time to prove it.

As I look at the house I notice how it hasn't changed at all. Looking up to the window I half expect to see a girl there, and to my relief there isn't one. Everything I encountered was only in my mind I think to myself. The car comes to a halt and my mother turns around to face me.

"Ready? I have your old room prepared for you." She says before opening her door. "Also I room for you too Emmett," she finishes as she walks to the front door.

I simply nod in response as I help the driver get the rest of my luggage.

"Thank-you Mrs. Mason for your hospitality, it does not go unnoticed I assure you," Emmett says quietly to her, the first words he's spoken since the train. His voice is steady, full of charm and warmth and judging by the way my mother smiles, it seems to have deeply affected her. Consequently I roll my eyes.

Soon as we enter through the door, I notice that everything is the same. The wood just as dark, the paintings, the furnishing, everything as it was before. As the three of us wall up the staircase, an familiar eerie feeling comes back, simply from all the memories that are playing over and over in my mind.

"Emmett, the spare room is the last door to the left," she says while pointing. Slowly he walks down the hall and disappears.

Finally reaching my door, I slowly turn the knob and walk inside.

Everything was exactly as I left it, except cleaner. The full bed still resided in the corner and my chest and wardrobe opposite of it. Dropping my luggage, I see what looks like a toy soldier peeking from underneath my bed. Turning to my mother, I gently grab my last piece of luggage from her hands and place next to the others.

"Well, I'll leave you to yourself now" she says before she turns for the door. "Your father and I would like you to join us for dinner on Fridays at six-thirty, Emmett is more than welcome to come as well." She says and even though she's saying it as a suggestion, something in her voice makes it very clear it's not. I can only imagine what it would be like refusing Jack, because that's who I would be saying no to, not her and will be her that pays for it.

She gives me one last sad smile before leaving.

As she closes the door, an emptiness finally settles in my stomach, seeming to expand to every hole in my body with each passing second. Realization that life may be even more lonely here than at the institution finally sinks in. There I at least had Esme, and here? Well I have nothing, not even my parents want to be bothered of me, nothing except for Emmett. But suddenly his name is like a balm on a burn wound, soothing me some.

Slowly I make my way to my bed and get on my hands and knees, peering what lies beneath it. Toy soldiers, a dusty book and the remains of a candle all lay there. Taking off my jacket, I slowly crawl underneath the bed, feeling more at home there than anywhere else, and pick up the book.

Suddenly something catches my eye in the corner of the floor. There laying alone, and covered in dust lay the music box I bought for Isabella. Suddenly a tightening in my chest forms and I find it hard to breathe, a frightening feeling uncurls in the pit of my stomach at the sight of it, a reminder of my delusions, my weakness and ultimately the nightmares that plagued my nights.

Shutting my eyes tightly I repeat the comforting words I thought before entering the house.

"All in my head, all in my head" over and over again. But I don't feel relieved or comforted.

Actually I am left more frightened than before, frightened by the idea of seeing HER again, and the faint trace of want left in its wake.


Emmett McGrath sits idly in his chair looking blankly at the wall. It has been such a long time since he has been in a home, and the idea that he can call this place his home, even for a little while brings up this feeling, this emotion that's he's pushed so far down inside, to the surface. Despite everything Edward does, despite his flaws and that he takes what he wants without question, without worry of who will suffer in the end, he cannot bring himself to truly stand up to him. Edward's life is that of which resembles a horror story, Emmett himself could only imagine what it would be like to live in a home where you were alone, where the father was abusive and mother would choose that man, her awful husband over her own child.

It is a different kind of pain, and while Emmett could compare his story, the wealthy but epileptic child, disgrace to the family, to society, cast off and unwanted, he himself did not start seeing dead girls and becoming so strongly attached to one of them, where his whole life depended and revolved around her. No, Emmett surrounded himself with books and his studies; he was never admitted as a patient, just a ward, so he had a chance that Edward never had, a chance to truly prove his intellect and worth. He had tutors, Edward had none, well except for secret sessions in the dark, he had opportunities, Edward had none, and he has the capability of applying to school, where Edward would likely not get admitted unless his family supported him by lying on transcript, stating he was ill and had a private tutor his whole childhood. Yet the likely hood that Jack would go out of his way to help his son is slim to none, and Edward knew it.

He can still remember meeting Edward for the first time, like it was yesterday. His eyes were so blank, void of any emotion and this expression on his face made him seem years over his true age. The boy was frightening, this piercing gaze whenever he did acknowledge the world, a hatred so deep embedded in his heart, it was as if he didn't have one.

"Strange one, that boy."

"They say he can see the dead."

"Have you seen his eyes? They're like this pit, dangerous that one is I'm telling you."

But Emmett had gone out of his way to befriend the strange boy who saw the dead. The first couple of weeks, Edward refused to speak a word, acting as if a mute and Emmett wondered if he really could. Sometimes he would look in his eyes and see this pain shining brightly there, and he couldn't help but believe the boy had seen something that changed his whole world, his sense of reality.

After awhile Edward started speaking and Emmett knew he had found family. The psychiatrist was hard on his friend, making him believe he was either a liar or clinically insane, but the way Edward spoke of Isabella was so real, it seemed as if she really did exist. And there were these times, when he would see Edward belted down thrashing against nurses, or drenched head to toe, he would close his eyes and pretend he was elsewhere. Regardless, Emmett vowed it didn't matter, they were going to be friends no matter whether she existed or not, no matter if is his friend was insane or not.

Soon he began tutoring everything to Edward what he had learned. It was amazing how easily his friend caught on, Emmett realized Edward could have been anything he wanted to be, had he just been given the chance, and Edward knew it. It was that reason, that very reason as to why Emmett let Edward have whatever he wanted, because God knows he finally deserves it.

Though it doesn't soften the sting when his sacrifice goes unnoticed, or when in the very last instance the beautiful girl who had seemed interested in him first, but immediately became enraptured by Edward's grace and powerful demeanor instead. His friend exuded strength, control, power and seduction, qualities that he himself would never have. He is much too kind to treat people the way Edward does, like chess pieces on a board. But sometimes he can't help but be jealous. And the selfish thought is there too, clawing its way up.

Do I not too have justified reason to have the things I want, the things I long for?

But quickly he banishes the thought from mind. It's selfish to believe he's entitled to things simply because his family abandoned him. But somewhere in his mind he also knows the truth, he will always have to fight for the things he wants and there's this question, nasty question that lingers in his mind.

Will I be someone's first choice?

Or merely just settled for?


Edward's POV

A cold chill runs down my spine as I take in the silence around me. Even after six years, the eeriness is something that is yet to change. Hearing the screeching wind outside my window, I shut my eyes tightly willing my mind to calm itself so I can continue to read my book in peace. Yet with each passing moment, I find I am even more wound up than calm. Maybe it's the darkness that is washed over the sky, or the dark shadows playing on my walls that keeps me filled with unease.

Get a handle on yourself Edward! This is ridiculous!

Finally I toss my book aside, frustrated with my temporary weakness of mind. Hearing it skid across the floor, momentary guilt wells up inside me; Esme gave me that book as a present, and I should treat it with more respect than that. Annoyed even more with myself, I slowly make my way to the wet windowpane. Looking over the moor, childhood memories play in my mind like a broken record. I was so alone then, and yet I believe I've always been alone. The only true friend and companion I had besides Esme was Isabella.

But Isabella will soon be replaced, for I have no need of imaginary girls. No, what I need is a companion, a wife; someone to help bring me back into society and rebuild my reputation. Suddenly Rosalie's face floats into my brain, her blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes that just scream naivety and innocence. She is quite beautiful, her appearance close to that of my own mother.

But it is her ignorance and simplicity that entices me the most, she will be most easy to control and manipulate. Yes, she appears to be a suitable companion. Finding her shouldn't be that difficult, for in this town, everyone knows everyone and their business. Of course I will have to obtain information on her family first, find out her family's status in this town to make sure she is the woman I want.

A smirk plays up my face as I envision how gullible she will be. A quick charming look, and clever statement should real her right in. I still remember the look in her eyes as she left with her mother, completely entranced by me. No she shouldn't be too difficult at all, easy as impressing a young child. Her eyes will go wide in wonder, and always be left with wanting more.

Suddenly I hear the faint noise of footsteps coming from the attic and I stand and look up at my ceiling, the chandelier hanging begins to shake slightly as if someone or rather something is hurriedly walking. Eeriness sets in as the noise continues, for I know good and well there is no one up there. The attic door was locked when we moved in, and the key has never been recovered. Even Isabella told me once to never venture up there.

A cold chill runs down my spine as my imagination conjures up horrific explanations. While everything inside of me screams to just sit down and ignore it, but it seems my body is frozen to the spot I am standing. Suddenly the noise stops abruptly, as if it wasn't there. My breathing hitches as my nerves continue to get the best of me.

Rats, it must be!

It's the only logical explanation I can come up with. Finally my breathing returns to normal as I stand in my room. The candle flickers softly as shadows play against my wall, the flame going back and forth.

Finally I get a hold of myself and get inside my bed. Fear crawls up my skin but I force myself to calm down. Blowing out my candle, I let the darkness engulf me. Soon I find it too difficult to keep my eyes open. Sleep takes over me, and for once I feel safe.

Cold hands force me down into a chair, as they clasp the leather restraints on the my wrists. Trying to plead for them to let me go, but I find my voice is mute and nothing is said. The nurses just bustle around me, completely unaware of my terror. Finally one walks up to me, her eyes sunken in, and her mouth twisted in a sadistic smile.

"Don't worry sweetie, you won't feel a thing" she whispers chillingly.

Suddenly I feel the chair tipping backwards and a cackling is heard all around the room. My breathing hitches and a fear takes hold of me. Icy cold water engulfs me, and I can't breathe anymore. Panic seizes my body, as I thrash around, memories of my childhood abuse with Nich comes back full fledged as I scream underwater.

Soft fingers caress my cheek and I find the strength to open my eyes, there floating in front of me is Isabella, in all her beautiful glory; her black hair swirling around her and dark lavender eyes piercing straight into my own. She then cups my face, smiling sweetly at me as if saying everything is going to be all right.

Suddenly her face contorts into pain, and her eyes look down. Slowly I follow her gaze and to my horror find blood there, pouring from some unknown wound. Her eyes look back to mine, terror flooding in them as the blood now pours from her mouth. Soon all I can see is the blood stained water and Isabella is beginning to be pulled away.

In my panic I scream and thrash in protest, trying to fight my way out of these restraints. I long to save her, to keep her with me; to never let her go. But soon her eyes roll to the back of her head and I know it's over. She's dead. Gone.

Screaming in agony, in my pain before I feel the jerk of someone's hand.

Waking up with a start, I feel sweat pouring down my back and face. It's the same dream that I've dreamt for years now. My skin tingles from whoever's touch has awoken me. I jerkily look around the room looking my eyes searching for someone, Emmett. Someone touched me! I can still feel it! Adjusting my eyes to the darkness I continue to look for the person.

But there is no one. The room is empty. Just like it's always been.


Please let me know what you think so far! Isabella will be making an entrance soon, so don't worry!

Also, I have a few chapters written of Isabella's POV that I'm thinking about uploading, either here or as a separate story. Would anyone be interested in reading it?