Chapter 12:

BPOV

There were many times during my high school years when I felt like Forks was a prison. Those days were a cakewalk compared to what my life has been reduced to. I've returned to my hometown disgraced. Edward and I have been in hiding for over a week now. Kinky Catie has truly made Edward and I rue the day we ever crossed her. And I still don't understand what we did to her that warranted such devastating revenge.

We've both had to turn our phones off because they've been ringing off the hook with calls from reporters, crank callers, and everyone in the Olympic Peninsula who thinks we ought to hear their opinion on the situation. Some folks called to support us; others have criticized and called us hurtful names.

Angela has had to take over my responsibilities with my clients in Port Angeles. Well, all except Mrs. De Simone. She dropped me like a bad habit the moment my name made the papers. She said I was a bad influence on her teenage daughter and I couldn't argue with that. Mrs. Beagle and Mr. Coleman don't seem to have heard the story, or if they have they're choosing not to comment, bless their hearts. While Angela is doing my job I've been helping her out at her parents' Bed and Breakfast a little each day. The townspeople of Forks have all learned of the scandal but only those close to Charlie know Edward and I are hiding out at his house. Those who have spotted me around town ignore me like I have a contagious disease.

Accusations have popped up all over the Internet about Edward's adventurous sexual nature. Local reporters have been digging and the subject of Edward's BDSM lifestyle has headlined Channel 3's new program every night. They are clearly trying to destroy his reputation. I wish people would just mind their own fucking business. I really don't see what's so fascinating about Edward's and my sex life. Edward says their interest is actually about ratings. Channel 6 has more viewers than Channel 3 during the nightly news time slot and the constant discussion and speculation about Edward's supposed sex addiction and violent sexual tendencies is their way of slamming him in the ratings. He says it's too easy, they just can't help themselves.

Meanwhile, Edward won't leave Charlie's house. He sits in the living room from six to nine every night watching a temporary anchorman at Channel 6 doing Edward's job. He's miserable here, partly because he can't stand watching the fill-in "fuck up his broadcast" as he puts it, and partly because Charlie is giving him such a hard time. My father won't speak to him. He's even had trouble keeping eye contact with me, and I'm his flesh and blood. The more details that are revealed about Edward and my taboo relationship the tenser and more irritable Charlie becomes. I've told him repeatedly to stop watching the news reports and he swears that he is trying to avoid it all. He says the guys at the station keep bringing it up, and when it isn't them then he's hearing it from the people around town. That I don't doubt. The people of Forks and Port Angeles would only give this scandal a passing glance if it involved two people in any other city. But because it's happening in their own backyard, it's big time news.

It came out yesterday on Channel 3 that a few years ago Edward had taken a girl's virginity on stage at Coming Attractions. I hadn't known that tidbit and I must admit it was shocking even to me. When Charlie overheard the report on the television he flipped out, storming out of his own house, and not returning for three hours.

While he was gone Edward and I talked and he admitted that the news story was true, but the reporter chose to omit the detail that both Jenks and Edward were aware the girl was a virgin when she volunteered to sub for him in the theater. She was nineteen and signed a consent form before performing. The scene hadn't been advertised around the club as a public deflowering the way the reporter made it seem. Edward said the scene was tender and emotional for both him and the girl. I didn't know what to think about that or any of this mess, filing it away in the back of mind to process and deal with at a later time. The subject of Edward's past has always been something I try not to think about.

I am in hell, more or less, and if it weren't for Jacob's friendship I'd have cliff jumped during low tide by now. Jake has been great about allowing me to get my frustrations out, letting me ramble on for hours. I've been hanging out on the reservation every day after doing Angela's chores at the B&B. Poor Jake has nothing better to do with his afternoons but listen to me, since his girlfriend is busy every day in Port Angeles covering for my ass.

I've tried to get Edward to come to the reservation with me, just to get him some fresh air, but he prefers to stay quarantined in the house and sulk. I know he blames himself for this situation and I've never seen him so depressed. I'm really worried about him.

"The worst part is we're not having sex. At all," I complain to Jake now. A rock flies out of his hand and skips across the velvety smooth water at First Beach.

"In lieu of recent events maybe a sex break isn't such a bad thing, Bells," Jake argues.

Perhaps a reevaluation of our relationship is in order. Had Edward and I dove into dangerous waters recently? We certainly let the thrill of public BDSM get in the way of common sense. Edward keeps saying over and over that he knew better than to scene for two members he didn't know well enough to trust. And moreover, he broke his own rule of never doing a scene outside the club or his own home. I didn't feel like it was risky at the time, but Edward is right in one sense. The careless choice he, rather we made, got us exposed. But were we really losing control? I just don't know.

I shake my head at my good friend. "You don't understand. Sex is how Edward and I connect. No matter what hard time we're going through we've always been able to communicate through sex. He barely talks to me, and he won't touch me under Charlie's roof. It feels like we've lost ourselves."

I don't want to try to explain the whole truth of it to Jacob, but not having playtime with Edward has also taken its toll on my psyche. Submitting to my master is like doing yoga. It helps me find inner peace. I know Jake will never understand that.

"I'm worried our D/s relationship is in jeopardy, like maybe Edward feels as though this scandal has tarnished what used to be beautiful," I murmur. "But I'm also confused about the other half of our relationship. I can feel him pulling away from me. He's not talking to me like he used to. I have no idea what he's thinking."

"So what are you guys going to do? You can't hide in Forks forever."

I sigh and plop my ass down in the sand. It's cold and slightly damp from the recent rain. Jake sits down beside me and looks out over the water. "We're waiting and seeing right now. Edward's still hoping people will get bored of our story and forget about us."

"And the video is off the Internet?"

"It's off YouTube and one other heavily traveled site. There's no guarantee it won't pop up again somewhere else."

"That was some pretty crazy shit Edward did to you," he murmurs.

"Did you watch the whole video?" I ask out of curiosity.

"Yeah," Jacob admits. He blushes; his russet skin darkening a little. "It's the kind of thing you can't turn away from when you know the people in it... I couldn't help but watch to the end."

"And nothing you saw seemed appealing?" I tease trying to lighten the mood.

Jake chuckles. "I'd never admit it if it did. I do have to say though, Bells, that you are a dirty, dirty girl."

He says it with humor and I smack his forearm playfully. Jacob's become somewhat better about accepting my alternative lifestyle over the past year and I'm grateful because it's made our friendship stronger.

"Speaking of dirty things," he continues, "I've been meaning to ask you if you'd mind me selling our dirt bikes."

I glare at him in complete surprise. "Sell them? After all the effort you put into getting the damn things running?"

Jacob and I had labored over those bikes for months when we were in high school. He did all the mechanical work, I suffered through hours and hours of watching him curse and yell at the various bike parts that were scattered around the floor of his makeshift garage. Those bikes were his first big project; they're what gave him the confidence to pursue a career in auto mechanics.

"I have to say I'm surprised, Jake. But honestly, I have no use for them. Edward would die before he let me ever ride one, so I'll leave it up to you."

"Okay, then I'm selling them," he says decisively.

"You rack up a gambling debt I'm not aware of?" I ask seriously.

He smiles. "No. I need the money to buy a ring..."

I gasp and then shove his shoulder so hard he falls over into the sand. "Jacob Black! Are you proposing to Angela?"

He sits up, shifting away from my reach. "Yes, and don't you say a word to her. I have her convinced that I'm not even considering marriage yet," he says smugly.

"You conniving sneak! You knew she's been dropping wedding hints?"

Jacob is all smiles and I know that he did. Oh, Angela is going to freak. "When are you popping the question?"

"As soon as I can afford the rock. I have a few guys interested in the bikes but I had to check with you before unloading them."

"Well, you have my permission to sell my dirt bike, and my blessing to marry my friend," I say happily. I think it's the first instance of joy I've felt in over a week. "Can I come with you to pick out the ring?"

"I could use the help but I thought you were avoiding Port Angeles right now?"

"Fuck, you're right. I really hate this, Jacob," I whine giving him my best lip pout.

Jake offers me a sympathetic smile and pulls me closer to him, wrapping his big warm arm around my shoulder. He kisses the side of my head and we sit together silently, watching the waves crashing against the rocky beach until the sun sets.

"As much as this blows for you, I'm glad we're getting to spend some time together," Jake muses. "Nothing like a sex scandal to bring two friends back together."

I poke him in the ribs, and then snuggle closer into his side. "I'm really glad you're marrying Angela."

"So does that mean you think she'll say yes?" he jokes.

"She loves you, Jakey. Just don't fuck up the ring and you're golden."

When I return home I notice Edward isn't in the living room folded into the Lazy Boy as usual. He's in the kitchen, and he's cooking. I glance around the house confused, wondering where my gloomy boyfriend went and who this impostor is.

"What are you doing?" I ask unable to keep the shock from my voice.

Edward looks over his shoulder and gives me a crooked smile. "Trying to make myself useful," he answers flatly and then turns back toward the stove.

I creep up behind him to see what he's making. It sort of looks like chicken pot pie, but I've never seen it cooked in a frying pan before. "Yuuum," I say as convincingly as possible. "Where's Charlie?"

"He said he was eating at the diner again," Edward sighs. It's good to see him up and moving around but he still seems to be suffering from a wounded spirit.

My hand lifts to rub Edward's shoulder in a comforting gesture, but he doesn't let it stay more than a few seconds before stepping away from me. His no contact policy is bruising my ego. Kinky Catie's inadvertently thrown a wrench in my sex life and I'm so worried that Edward will never look at me the same way again. Has this whole ordeal put him off kinky sex for good? God, I hope not. I don't know what will become of us if we can't get back to the place we were in right before Catie ruined everything.

I leave him to his food preparations and go upstairs to change into a t-shirt and pajama pants. Edward and I are sharing my childhood bedroom and the double bed that's been in here since my thirteenth birthday. Clothes are strewn about and I pick up a few things, tossing them into the hamper. I find Beanie napping underneath one of Edward's t-shirts. Even he's depressed living here. I don't know how much longer I can continue under these circumstances. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs.

Edward's setting the table when I return to the kitchen and I help him get utensils and drinks. It will be the first time we eat at this table together since arriving eight days ago. I'd swear it's been months rather than a little over a week.

"Rose called me today," Edward announces before I've even taken the first bite. I put my fork down immediately to give him my full attention.

"Did she have news?" I wonder.

Edward swirls the chicken pot pie soup around on his plate and frowns. "She found out who Kinky Catie really is."

I gasp. "Who?"

"Rose pulled Gabriel's and Sandra's membership files to look for clues after we figured out they were helping Catie. Apparently Sandra wrote 'Catherine Bennett' in the referral line of her application. Once she found that, Rose looked at the signup sheets and found Catie's name on one of them. She was next in line."

"Next in line for what, Edward?"

He finally makes eye contact with me, his expression sad and remorseful. "Next in line to sub for me. After that first scene you and I did together I bumped the next girl on the schedule with just a day's notice. I wanted to perform with you again so badly I didn't care that other women were waiting on the list."

Edward's right. He did bump me to the front of his schedule so we could scene together the Friday after our first week. And after that, he instructed Rosalie to trash the signup sheet altogether. He's never used a substitute since.

"Now you understand?" he asks. "This is all my fault for being inconsiderate of those women."

"Edward, losing the opportunity to submit to you one time at the theater does not justify what Catie did to us," I insist. I reach out to take his hand and he lets me hold it. My thumb brushes back and forth across the top of his hand.

"I should have let you call the police after the first letter arrived. Or after the second. Even after Catie confronted me I still gave little credence to her threats," he reflects.

"Maybe we should have called the police, you're right. But we didn't know her identity at the time so I'm not sure what they could have done to stop her from posting that video. The real question is what do we do now?"

Edward's attention shifts back to his dinner and he attempts to collect some of the food onto his fork. "The damage has been done," he mumbles releasing his hand from mine.

What does that mean? I've never seen Edward this pessimistic and frankly, he's beginning to annoy me. I kick his leg under the table prompting his eyes to lift to meet mine. "Yes, Edward, the damage to our careers, our reputations, and our integrity has been done. So what are we going to do about it? We're still breathing; and we have to fight to get some semblance of our lives back."

He doesn't respond. This is so frustrating. "Maybe I should go on one of those Channel 3 talk shows and defend our relationship. I've had plenty of offers to speak out," I say just thinking out loud. At this point I'm willing to consider anything.

Edward's eyes widen; he looks horrified. "No, Bella. That won't solve anything."

"People need to know we're in love. Not one of those reporters ever mentions that we are over the moon in love with one another, mushy romantic to the point of sickening our friends, talking about being together forever." At least we used to be. "I'm scared for us, Edward. I hate what this is doing to us."

Edward parts his sexy pouty lips to speak but then closes them again. Instead he reaches across the table and takes my hand. I inwardly gasp, so relieved to feel his skin against mine. It's been much too long since he's made any attempt to touch me. I don't move a muscle as he squeezes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of my palm. Too soon he pulls away again, and I know why he's done it. I can hear the tires of Charlie's police cruiser crunching over the gravel driveway.

Yes, this is worse than living here in high school. Jake would never have let go of my hand when we heard Charlie coming. Edward stands abruptly without a word and offers up a grim smile before exiting the kitchen. I wish he wouldn't leave. We need to finish this conversation. The stairs creak as he seeks refuge in our bedroom. I want to call out to him to come back, but I know it's no use.

Edward should not still be upset over what's happened. He has never felt shame or embarrassment for who he is. Never. And if I can get over Charlie seeing us naked and scening then so should he. Edward's hiding from Charlie because he feels unwelcome in the house. Charlie is doing little to counter those feelings, and I don't know how much more of their mutual avoidance I can take.

My father enters the house, shaking raindrops from his leather police jacket, and hangs it on a hook by the door.

"Bella?"

"In here, Dad."

Charlie surveys the kitchen and after noting Edward's absence decides to make a plate of food for himself and sit at the table beside me.

"Where's your other half?" he asks unkindly nodding towards Edward's uneaten dinner.

I roll my eyes. "Upstairs, avoiding you."

That doesn't appear to bother Charlie as he takes a bite of the chicken pot pie, which has cooled enough to congeal into a more edible form. "How was your day? You go see Jake again?" he asks conversationally.

"How long are you going to be rude to him?" I demand, ignoring his attempt at small talk. "You seem to have forgiven me, but still act like Edward is guilty of some crime. None of this is his fault."

Charlie swallows and glances at me briefly. "He is responsible for this mess. If he hadn't done those things to you, in front of strangers no less, you wouldn't be here hurting and in hiding," he counters.

"I am so sick and tired of caring what people think! My friends and family; they are the only people whose opinions matter to me. And I'm worried about how this if affecting my relationship with the man I love. Your disapproval of him is only making that worse," I say forcefully.

I don't mean to ambush my father, but enough is enough. Edward's prolonged depression has me doubting the strength of our relationship. It wasn't long ago that I would have bet there was nothing we couldn't overcome. I'm lost and alone. I miss my master's strong confidence and the sexy dark demeanor he slips into when we play. I miss pushing my everyday thoughts and worries aside; knowing that while I serve him all my needs will be met. I miss the care he gives me and the feeling of complete bliss that overwhelms me as I submit. And I miss my boyfriend; the playful, loving man I know I want to spend the rest of my life with.

"He's not good enough for you, Bells," Charlie says quietly. "This life… you deserve better than this."

What do I have to do to make him understand? I've always dreaded this conversation, and I don't blame Edward for making me have to endure it now. This is about me and my father accepting me for who I am.

"I'm a submissive, Charlie. I've told you this began in college for me, maybe even before that. I felt the inclination when I was dating Jacob, only I didn't know what it was. I didn't understand why he could never satisfy me in bed. I started subbing before I ever met Edward, but now he is my Dom and I happen to love him. I don't submit to Edward because of what he needs or wants me to be. I don't fuck him on the theater stage because he asks me to. It's a compulsion inside of me and I can't change it. Nor do I want to."

The legs of the chair scratch against the linoleum as I angrily push it back to stand. "And if Edward and I don't survive this as a couple…" My heart can't even begin to process that possibility. "Even if this breaks us up I will still be a submissive."

Charlie has no response to my speech. His eyes are fixed on the plate in front of him with no sign of acknowledging me. I storm out of the kitchen and catch Edward staring at me from the top of the stairs. He looks like he's seen a ghost. Instead of running to him like I want to, I bolt out the front door. I need fresh air and time to think. The door to Edward's Volvo is open so I get in on the passenger side and lock the doors. I want to scream out loud.

Part of me is proud of myself for standing up to Charlie. The other part is in shock that I said what I did to his face. I need my master's strength right now, or my boyfriend's loving arms. Either one would do. But he isn't here. I haven't seen my Dom or my boyfriend in eight days.

Opening the glove box I pull out the receipt from the Volvo's last oil change and dig through the other papers and junk inside until I locate a working pen. Scribbling on the back of the paper I write today's date and begin composing a letter to my master. I left my journal back in Port Angeles so this will have to suffice. I need to talk to Edward, my Edward, not the empty shell I left inside the house with Charlie.

Master,

Where are you? I'm on my knees, waiting to serve you and the emptiness I feel without you is stifling.

The past week I've been called a victim, a slut, a whore, and a puppet by people who don't know me or you. They don't know anything about us and yet they feel they can smear our lives all over the news for entertainment. Their lies and name calling won't bring me down; I am stronger than everyone thinks. But when I look into your eyes, Master, and see the emptiness that has plagued your beautiful face during this difficult time it breaks me. I've never seen such sadness in your eyes.

You are my Dom, my rock. I need the structure and support you bring to my life. I can't stand seeing you so morose and worn down. Don't shoulder all the blame for our troubles on yourself, Master. I would change not one minute of my life with you. Words cannot express how happy your dominance and love has made me.

My neck has been cold and naked for eight long days. I fear you left my collar at home on purpose. Do I no longer deserve it? I fear more than anything that you feel you no longer deserve to have me wear your collar. I will defend my love and submission to you every day for the rest of forever. You are what makes every day worth living. Please come back to me Master.

Come back to me, Edward.

Tears are making their way down my cheeks as I fold the paper into a small square and shove it in my jeans pocket.

What am I going to do?

A/N: Sooo... Trouble in BDSM paradise!

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And what would you like me to do about posting next week since Wednesday is Christmas? Do you want the next chapter on Tuesday or should we wait until Thursday?!