Stolen
By: Skyela Rickman-Walters
Disclaimer: I do not in any way own any of the Twilight Saga. It belongs to Stephenie Meyer. They only thing I own is the story plot and a few original characters I have created.
A/n: This story takes place during New Moon, after Bella had her motorcycle accident and had to get seven stitches. She is on her way to hang out with Jacob.
There is a VERY important A/n at the end of this chappie. Please read it.
Chapter 10: Happy Birthday to You
Bella's POV
Middle of September 2006
Change is inevitable—nothing ever stays the same for too long. The sun rises and sets at different times each day. The tides are constantly changing and are never the same twice. People grow up and move on—life goes on with or without you.
By this time, my classmates had moved on to college, and Bella Swan was just a horrible, distant memory. I shuddered to think about my parents—whether Renée and Phil had returned to Jacksonville—if Charlie was constantly alone in our home, still searching for me with a fierce desperation. It had been weeks since I had spied anything on the news about me. My face was gone—only a distant memory to millions across this world.
My pretty baby shifted within me, stretching her arms wide as I sat in my bed, staring blankly at the yellow and pink floral patterns of the walls. My hands went instantly to my stomach, a rush of love and excitement bubbling through my veins as they went around in a slow circular motion.
"I know," I mumbled to her, keeping my voice low and gentle. I didn't want Tilly to hear my constant muttering again. "I know that's sad, but we will get out of here—and we will be safe…"
"Miss Bella!"
I looked up from my bed to spy tiny Nicky tottering towards me. I smiled at him as he walked; his smile was most certainly Olivia's. Nicky leaned up against the bed and pressed his tiny palm against my bulging belly. He waited for any sign of movement for just a moment before sighing bemusedly.
"She come out now?" Nicky spread his arms out wide and his shoulders gave a graceful shrug.
I grinned a little at Nicky's excitable antics. "Not yet," I said, swinging my legs around so that I could pull Nicky up into my lap. "She's still cooking in there."
Nicky playfully cocked his head and gave a delightful giggle. "Baby come now. I want to see her."
I rubbed the little boy's soft brown curls and gave him a snuggle. "You'll see her, Nicky. Just be patient."
Bren walked into the room just then, tiny Baby Bella nestled in her arms. At five months, Little Bella was very intelligent; she smiled at me as Bren held her, reaching out with small fists.
A loud bang came from downstairs, causing poor Nicky to jump. My arm went around him instinctively as Little Bella began to cry, as Tilly and Vince began to shout; I strained to listen to their latest argument, but they were too far away to be discernable.
"They have been going at it all morning," Bren said, shifting Little Bella to her other arm in an attempt to comfort the infant. "You would think one of them would leave to cool off."
I inwardly agreed with Bren; Vince and Tilly had been at each other's throats for about the past month—it seemed the sooner it got to my due date, the more volatile they became with one another.
"Did you hear what they were arguing about?" My little nudge bug gave a small push from inside; I think she knew what we were talking about.
"This time it was because Vince came in late last night." Bren kissed Little Bella's cheek and made a silly face. She gave me a pointed look. "I think she's going mental."
I returned a soft smile and touched my bulging stomach again. I know that's not the only reason, I thought, pained at the very idea that my very being was ruining someone's marriage.
"Hey." Bren sat down next to me, softly brushing the hair away from the nape of my neck. "It's not your fault. It never was your fault to begin with."
But it was. How blind could Bren possibly be? Tilly was jealous, she had always been jealous of the way Vince touched me, touched my hair, caressed my face…but couldn't Tilly see that I didn't want to be touched by him? That Vince's affection for me was disturbing and unwanted? At first, Tilly beamed at the thought of having another baby—but as the pregnancy ticked by, and Vince began staying home more with the excuse that he needed to be with "his Isabelle", her excitement turned into envy. I enjoyed the days when Tilly was at work, but once Tilly came home, I was constantly screamed at, constantly getting hit and slapped. She often informed me that if it wasn't for the baby, she would have already gotten rid of me. And by that, I didn't exactly know what she meant.
A door slammed from downstairs, rattling the windows. Nicky winced and gave me a frightened look. I gave him a good squeeze. "Its okay, Nicky. Everything is fine."
And then you heard the crying; the ruthless, bitter tears as Tilly sobbed incoherently from the living room. I barely heard the liquor cabinet squeak open, but it was enough to set off the alarm bells within my head.
"Okay kids, its nap time," Bren said, taking Nicky's hand and pulling the tot off the bed. Bren and I exchanged a quick look as she took the little ones out of the room, the feeling of dread settling deep with the depths of my stomach. Lately when Tilly began drinking, she became extremely violent—so violent that one night she shook Nicky with all the strength she could muster. Vince stopped her before she could do anything else, and the poor little boy was so terrified, he was trembling head to toe. It was best to get the children out of Tilly's reach while she guzzled down her vodka and scotch.
I pushed myself off the bed, deciding it would be best if I found refuge in the bathroom—I really had to go anyway. I waddled out the door, listening to the sound of Bren, tucking Nicky into his warm bed. She was telling him a story of some sort, encouraging sleep to bestow itself upon him.
I had made it to the bathroom but just as I was reaching for the door, I heard Tilly's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. My breath quickened—it would be very bad if she encountered me—she already hated me as it was. The cards were stacked; Vince loved me more than he did her, he was a having a child with me, whom he seemed to care for more than Nicky or Little Bella.
"You!" Though the creak of the liquor cabinet had been the first acknowledgement for me, it was obvious that Tilly had been drinking throughout much of the morning; the smell of stale booze wafting from her breath as she breathed heavily, her hazy eyes staring at me with unfocused precision. "You bitch…come here…"
My entire body with rigid as I looked at her, trying to find a piece of soberness, it was quite apparent to me that Tilly was long past a good buzz. Her eyes were bloodshot and very tired, deep purplish bruises sagging beneath her lower eyelids. I watched her eyeballs twitch as they tried to focus on me; it was as if Tilly was following a shaky laser across the walls. I clasped my hand on the door knob and gave it a sharp turn, but I wasn't quick enough.
I felt Tilly's long fingernails dig into my shoulder and I let out a sharp cry in protest. My nudge bug jumped in surprise out the sound of my shout. I twisted myself free of Tilly's grasp and spun past her to slip away. From down the hall, I heard Bren shut the door, protecting the two that meant the most to us. My hands held my belly, so that it would bounce too much from running. I could feel my heart hammer hard within my chest and the world seemed to be spinning as I fought for oxygen. I'm almost to the second banister, I thought hurriedly, adrenaline punching through my veins like wildfire. I make it down the second banister and I'll make a beeline for the basement…
With my foot just above the top stair, I began to take the first step down, but my hair was suddenly pulled back with great force. I yelled in pain, my scalp burning in irritation as I was pulled off balance. I felt my arms fly out to help steady my weight, I felt my heart drop out of my body as defeat took place of the euphoria…and then with a hard push, I was freefalling downwards.
"Don't run away from me, you…" Tilly was cursing loudly from where she had let go of my body, but she didn't seem to care that her vessel for another baby was in jeopardy. I tried to pull my arms in front of my, to break my fall as I fell face first down stairwell, but everything was moving in slow motion—I just couldn't get my hand out fast enough.
My stomach hit the stairs first, and I could feel something shift inside me as I rolled and flopped down the stairs. Although Tilly's voice was nasally and annoying, it was now a low hum, monotone and empty as my lifeless body slammed into every step. I couldn't cry out—my vocal chords seemed to freeze up from inside of my throat, and it was burning in there, as though I had been screaming for a long time. My vision went gray, all the color was gone now, vanishing before my glazed, almost lifeless eyes as I fell in a heap at the bottom of the stair well. I was still, barely breathing, trying to decide on whether or not I was alive or dead. The world had shifted ever so slightly, so I was assuming it was the latter…
"Bella!!" The shriek caused my to start a little; it was unexpected and fearful as I heard gentle footsteps pound down the stairs. A hand gently grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over so now I was staring at the white washed ceiling. Bren's face whooshed into my vision, panic evident across her freckled face. Cool hands touched my cheeks and I blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what had just happened. How did I come to end up at the bottom of the stairs, battered and broken? Bren's lips were moving in frantic desperation, but I couldn't hear what she was saying; it was as though someone had stuffed balls of cotton into my ears, muting the dull, lifeless world around me. Bren's head suddenly towards to look up the stairs, the side of her face now contorted and was uncharacteristically dangerous. I took the moment to move my hand, slowly but deliberately, and I placed it on my stomach.
Somewhere, in the far, distant part of my brain, I knew something wasn't right. The pain had began to flood its way through my body now, the shock of my free fall wearing off. I could hear my breath, hitching in my throat as tears began to leak out from behind my eyes. I gave my belly a rub, and then a gentle poke, but the pain seemed to intensify, aching like a bruise.
"Bella." Bren's voice was slow, like someone had pressed the slow motion button on the remote. I could feel my body shaking, the tremors flowing like electric current through my lifeless, heartless body. "Bella, don't move—stay still."
I couldn't nod to let her know I understood. My lips couldn't phrase any known words from my vocabulary. My hands still pressed to my stomach, I tried to feel something from inside of me, feel the little baby that was going to be mine.
I wasn't even aware of the warm liquid that was seeping out of me…all I could concentrate on was trying to feel my little nudge bug move—just once. Please, the thought stuttered through my mind as I tried not to cry. Please…
***
Within hours, the contractions started. My body was trying to get rid of the life that once was…the waste that was now nestled inside me. Vince came home only when he found out that there had been complications with my pregnancy. I sat in Tilly's exam room, while Tilly spread my legs wide. Beads of sweat had appeared on my forehead as the horrible pain crunched my stomach, making it nearly impossible for me to think straight.
"Alright." Tilly's voice said, sounding dead and uninterested. She had done the job she intended to do. "Time to push."
And I pushed. It was a lot harder than I expected it would be, seeing as there was no life inside me anymore. The pain surged inside me like a large knife, entering an open wound. Vince held my hand through a lot of it, and I made sure to squeeze it till his knuckles were an ugly shade of purple. A lot of the time, during the course of 3 hours, I wondered if delivering a live fetus would be any different. It was like pushing dead weight—no give or resistance.
And then, the moment every newborn mother waits for happened. The pain subsided momentarily while Tilly cut the lifeless infant free of its life source, once and for all. And she held the babe up.
A little boy, I thought, staring at his small, broken and beaten body, barely believing that only yesterday he was alive and well. He was beautiful, pale, soft skin, mouth slack, perfect in almost every way.
Tilly and Vince and I stared at him in awe; it felt strange for a moment, as if I had just given birth with both of my parents watching on. I felt a pang of regret towards the brief thought, and I thought about my own mother and father…I was starting to forget little pieces of the two of them. Tilly and Vince had seemingly desensitized any feeling I had ever had about any one before this life. Now, I felt remorseful and angry towards them all, for ever giving up on me. I was only that valuable, wasn't I?
"What do we do with it?" Tilly asked, wrapping him into a light blue towel. She held him awkwardly in the crook of her arm, unsure of what to say or do. She was the murderer, not me. She was the one who took my son's life away and I wanted nothing more than to peel him away from her undesirable hands.
"We'll have to dispose of it," Vince said softly, his eyes distant and empty; they were sort of like looking into the eyes of a mental patient. I shuddered and looked away from him.
"Can I hold him?" I asked, staring at the tiny bundle in Tilly's wrongful arms. I watched as Tilly and Vince exchanged a look, Tilly challenging Vince, and Vince suddenly serene and thoughtful.
"I think that's a good idea," Vince nodded, his voice light with a hint of bitterness. He strode over to Tilly and plucked my son from her arms. Tilly looked flabbergasted. "This is our son, after all."
Tilly's mouth opened and shut itself like a fish underwater as she tried to think of something to come back with. Fervid emotions flashed across her reddish purple face like a slideshow—anger, hurt, remorse, jealousy…and then she was out of the room like a pin ball.
Vince handed my baby to me, smoothing my hair away from my sweaty face as he did so. I felt his lips press to my forehead, but I didn't wince; I was too tired to move at all. And then, oddly respectfully, Vince left the room snapping the door shut behind him.
I took the first few minutes to stare at his beauty, to touch his tiny features with my fingertips. I couldn't ever have imagined that I could help create something like this. His eyelids were closed, in a peaceful way; it looked as though he were fast asleep. I carefully took his tiny hands and clasped them together across his chest. I stroked what little hair he had on his tiny head, my eyes welling up fast as I did so.
"I'm sorry." It was the only thing I could say, the only thing I could think of. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe. I'm sorry I told you all these wonderful things about the people you would meet or the things you would see. I—I was just so happy…that I was apart of something…so wonderful."
My giant thumb rubbed his tiny cheek; my hand was much bigger than his tiny head. I bent down slowly, and pressed my lips to both of his precious eyelids. "Just know this, my sweet nudge bug. I love you. You are my son, and always will be my son." I sniffled. "When I come and find you in heaven, you'll know that it's Mommy…because…" I wiped tears off my cheeks and let out a shaky sigh. "…because you're the only one who knows why my heart sounds like." I kissed his cold skin again, and it hurt to be reminded of my past. I gave a small chuckle. "Well…you and Edward do, at least…"
I sniffled a little bit more, never getting enough of touching his sweet skin, never being able to kiss him just the right amount of times. I don't think it's possible for a mother to ever stop wanting to kiss her child…it made my heart ache that he would be going shortly, to a place I so badly wanted to see…
We buried my little Charlie outside. Vince nestled him inside one of his shoe boxes, wrapped up in one of Nicky's old blankets. I later placed a rock over his resting place, hoping that if I were to get out of here alive…I could return someday and take him home. Bren was quiet through most of everything; she listened when I needed to vent and held me when I needed to cry. But mostly she was just there whenever I needed her. Somewhere along my way, I found out that my baby had been born on September 13…I laughed when I found that out…another birthday gone bad, another life lost between this world and the next…Gosh, if I lived t see my next birthday...
I didn't know it then, but Bren and I would soon be fighting for much more than our lives, but the strength to carry us through as well. In the next couple of weeks, Tilly would return home from work, pack her things, and take both Nicky and Little Bella with her. I didn't know if I had it in me to cry anymore, but I couldn't help but wonder where they were going. Or why Tilly felt obligated to leave. She had gotten why she had wanted, hadn't she? She had killed my baby out of spite while in a drunken rage, and now she was just gone? But it seemed to Bren and I that we were missing a very important piece of the puzzle; a piece that would make itself know to the both of us very shortly.
And this part of our journey wasn't the worse of what was to come.
There you have it! My deepest apologies to you all; I know I've been terrible at updating, but I've been going through a rut, and I just lost the one person I thought I was going to spend forever with. This chapter was very hard to write, and to me, it feels kind of stiff, but bear with me—I have the last chapters of this story ready to roll, but YOU the READER, has to do me the biggest favor. Please READ and REVIEW. I see the hits this story gets, but it never gets the reviews. If you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, please REVIEW! Your words and diligent reading mean the world to me, especially at a time like this. Make it happen. I promise the next chapters will come out faster if I see the reviews. Promise, promise, promise. I would like to see 10 for this chapter at the very least—just a goal anyway, but haha….
Love to you all, my faithful readers.
Your devoted author,
Skye
PS-My BFF just wanted to put her two cents in as well—Wrvfwvfe2
