Okay! Here we are! Chapter 14! I am so very sorry it took so long to get up, but things get crazy, as I'm sure you know. Anyway, now that this trimester of school is over, hopefully I can get some more time in to work on this. The whole after effects of Breaking Dawn have worn off, and I'm not done with this fic. So, even though I may not update this one for a while, I promise I will!

At any rate, do enjoy!

Song: "Handcuffs" by Brand New

"Stranded"

BELLA'S PERSPECTIVE

"Mother…"

"Wake up, please…"

"Do you think she hears us?"

It was a dream.

It had all been a terrible nightmare, and now I was waking up from it. Cecil had not stolen my children, and he hadn't lured me away from my safety. I was lying in my bed in Edward's room, being pushed into consciousness by two eager children.

Lazily, I opened my eyes. Yes, Atticus and Sophie were hovered over me, concern crossing their brows. I recognized the ceiling as the Cullens' house, and the light that shone in from the enormous window, filtered through the grey sky. I was at home.

"Mother, are you okay?" Atticus held my hand firmly, watching me as I slowly sat up in the bed.

"I… I think so," I mumbled. "Are you?"

Sophie and Atticus exchanged brief glances, as if I were missing something. "Yes," Sophie said. "Now that you're here, anyway."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I've been here. We're at home right now," I looked around the room, Edward's room, trying to convince myself of my denial. "Where is Edward?"

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed something was terribly off in this place. True, I was in our bedroom, surrounded by everything familiar, but it was different. Everything—from the walls and carpets to each label on his music collection—seemed dead and worn, grey and lifeless. I looked towards the windows and saw, with a treacherous roll of nauseous fear, the ghostly figures, suspended in the fog, watching.

I was not at home.

Slowly, I looked back at the two children, sad and lonely. For a moment, I searched their faces and willed myself to believe that I was still at home; that the Cullens were not even a call away. However, I was stopped when I noticed how lifeless they looked. Corpses, yet alive. Sophie's smile, usually set in place no matter what was happening, was truly nonexistent; she looked as though she had never smiled once before. And Atticus's eyes, typically a brilliant emerald, were sunken in, paled to a sickly green.

"Where are we?" I asked, though I never heard my voice speak it.

"With Cecil," Sophie said, her eyes cast towards the comforter. "In purgatory."

My heart dropped. How would they find us? How were we going to be saved? With a rocking revelation, I realized we might never be rescued…

"Are you hurt?" I whispered, shaking off the fear. I reached out and stroked their faces, checking their arms. "He hasn't done anything to you, has he?"

Atticus shook his head, and then shrugged. "He kept us in the forest until he… he got you, in these little pits that hunters use to catch animals in," he said. "It was scary, and it hurt…"

Sophie pulled herself closer to me, laying her head on my shoulder. "Is daddy okay? And Jasper and Emmett? I don't want them to think it was their fault…"

"Your father—" My stomach rolled with a faint touch of happiness as I said that—"is searching for you two right now. He's worried sick."

"Does Elizabeth know what happened?" Atticus asked as he pulled himself into my lap, too.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm sure she will."

"Of course she will," Sophie agreed.

We didn't speak or move for a long moment. I pulled them closer, longing for their company and reveling in the fact that they were safe, but we were soon interrupted, thrown out of peace.

Half of me hoped it was Edward that was opening the door. But the other half knew it wasn't.

In the silhouette of the grey hallway, a man stood, leaned against the frame. Tall and lanky, he stood motionless. His hair hung limply around his face, though I couldn't make out that much in the darkness.

Then, the burning smell hit my nostrils, followed shortly by the voice I feared.

"Ah, sleeping beauty has awoken."

This man named Cecil sauntered across the room, stepping from the shadow and towards the light. A knot of dread was curdling in my stomach, sparking fear at the thought of seeing his face. I looked down, concentrating on the faded gold comforter that stared blankly up at me.

I felt him settle his weight on the edge of the bed, and his eyes burned holes in me as he stared. "Bella," he said. "Why won't you look at me?"

I didn't answer, but fixed my gaze on the threads that made the fabric.

"You're making this so very difficult for the both of us," he soothed. His hand, which I saw out of the corner of my eye, made its way to mine that rested on the comforter. He gripped it—cold, but with an undertone of warmth. It was the oddest feeling… "I can be nice about this, or I can be ugly about this."

"Just look at him," Sophie whispered in my ear. "You'll get hurt if you don't…"

Bravely, I lifted my head, but my eyes stayed focused on the blanket. I let my eyes drift up on their own accord as I took in his face.

He was not anyone like I had seen before, or any monster I could have imagined him to be. His cinder black hair feathered around his slender, fair face—much like smoke as it drifts away from the wreckage of a fire. Yet, his features were so far from the demonic, frightening ones I had thought him to possess. His eyes, large and bottomless, burned black through the wisps of his hair, sunken deep in him, outlined by purple shadows. Despite his undeniable beauty, he didn't stir the happiness that Edward did, but rather fear and sorrow.

"See, did that hurt?" Cecil asked, brushing his fingers along my jaw. I wanted to pull away, but I reconsidered—for my safety and for the children's. Slowly, I shook my head. "Good. Now, we have some business to attend to," he stood up, and held his ashy-white hand out to me. "May I escort you?"

I pulled myself out of the bed, shivering in my thin nightgown. I looked around the room, searching for Edward's peacoat, but it was nowhere to be found. Maybe it's in the living room, I thought was we walked down the hallway, Sophie and Atticus close behind me.

The main room, noticeably that of the Cullens, was sunk in a deep, chilling fog. Outside the windows, the same black ghouls hovered; I quickly averted my eyes, afraid. Cecil gripped my hand tighter, sitting me down in the chair facing the window. Surely, he knew I was frightened by them—surely, his intention was to scare me.

Atticus and Sophie sunk to the ground in front of the fireplace, burning brilliantly and emitting a strange heat and scent. Cecil glanced at me, carrying something in his hand, and then at the flame. "You were looking for Edward's coat a moment ago, weren't you?"

Silently, I nodded.

He smirked and tilted his head in the direction of the flames. "Vampire clothing makes for good fire fuel, doesn't it?"

I averted my eyes and pressed myself farther into the couch, absorbing the coldness. A sob escaped my lips, and I quickly covered my mouth to muffle my cries.

"Ah, don't cry," Cecil whispered as he sat down next to me, placing a telephone—of all things—on the coffee table. He reached out and brushed my hair from my face, sending shivers through me. His indifference fell from his face, replaced by one of longing. "So beautiful, Bella… a thorough enjoyment…" Cecil wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, pressing his face into my neck. "And you're mine now…"

Instinctively, I let out a cry, and tried to shove him away. Instead of being pushed from me, he violently pulled himself closer to me, his hands digging in my back. Gruffly, he whispered against my ear, "You either give in to me, Bella, or a few more people than just you will have to pay…"

"Edward's going to be here," I rasped out, struggling against his restraint. "He loves me, Cecil, and he won't let anyone hurt me again…"

A sharp pain ripped through my scalp, his fingers painfully intertwined in my hair. "There are two rules to this game that you alone have to obey, and they're fairly easy, depending on how submissive you are," his voice was hot and hoarse in my ear. "The first is, give up and give in. It's that easy," His grip tightened in my hair. "And the second rule is, don't talk about Edward. The punishment is severe for that infringement," He released me, throwing me against the couch. "Are we all clear now?"

Shaken by the pain, I nodded, my lip trembling.

"Excellent," he whispered, and reached for the phone, turning it on. He dialed some numbers, to my surprise, and set it down on the tabletop, the speakerphone in use. As I listened to the monotonous ringing, he turned to me, clenching my face in one hand, my forearm in the other. "Don't say a word unless I tell you to. I really do not want to hurt you again, Bella."

"Who are you calling?" I frantically asked. "Edward—?"

His fingers pressed fiercely into my cheekbones, sending the warning pain of a bruise through me. "Did you hear me, Bella? I don't want to hurt you, but if you leave me no choice—"

"Cullen residence; this is Esme."

My heart leapt in joy as I heard her voice, distorted by more than just the standard telephone static.

"Edward, please?" Cecil casually asked.

There was a small intake of breath, and then silence. I thought she had hung up, until I heard the other line being handled, and then… "Yes?"

It was Edward, his voice recognizable even in its apparent distress and pain. Subconsciously, I swore at myself for putting him in this hurt to begin with…

"Edward, please?" Cecil repeated.

"Yes, this is Edward," he said in a rush. "Who is this?"

Cecil glanced at me, a smirk on his face. "Is Bella there, please?"

A beat of silence struck me. "No, Bella is not here."

This demon, this tormentor, held his smile, but it soon spread and then erupted in a laugh that chilled me to my bones. "Of course she's isn't!" He managed between laughs.

"Edward!" I cried, reaching for the phone. Cecil flung me back against the couch, glaring at me though his wretched smile was still in place. I looked past him, my arm futilely extended for the phone. "Please, Edward!"

"Where is she?!" I heard Edward shout right before a sharp pain shivered through my cheek.

Cecil drew himself from me, and picked the phone up, dangling it between his fingers in the hand that wasn't restraining my wrists. "Oh, calm down, Edward," he chuckled. "Honestly, one would think you had lost something you truly care for."

A growl, undoubtedly from Edward, shuddered through the telephone, breaking my heart. I had caused him this pain…

"Don't behave like that," he scolded. He glanced at Sophie and Atticus, wide eyed and hopeful on the ground. "The children can hear you. Now, would you like to hear the rules or are you going to continue overreacting like this?"

"The rules?" It was a question, not an answer.

"Ah, yes, I knew that would be your option," Cecil looked at me, studying my horrified look. "As we don't have name tags, allow me to introduce myself to you. My name is Cecil. Perhaps you've heard of me? I'm sure Elizabeth has spread the gossip."

"Yes, I know who you are," Edward said resolutely. "We all know who you are."

I pulled on Cecil's hand, my eyes pleading. He turned to look at me, pressing the phone into the cushion. "Is something amiss, Bella? Do you want me to hang up the telephone?" He smirked, delightfully twisting me words.

"Please let me talk to Edward," I breathed. His eyes darkened, and I saw Sophie shaking her head quickly out of the corner of my eye, discouraging my words, but I pressed on. "It's all I want. I just want to let him know I'm alright, that I'm not hurt…" I reached hastily for words, and they increased unevenly in volume, tears seeping from my eyes. "I just want to talk to him…"

A cold, hard slap in the face shook me from my shaken speech. Some sound, twisted and chortled, came from me, released by the hurt that stung in my face, my eyes, my chest. Sophie and Atticus cried out from the carpet, but did not move; perhaps they had learned their lesson, as he called it. Cecil studied me, and then laughed again and picked the telephone up. "Bella is having a hard time understanding the rules herself," he said matter-of-factly. "She hasn't even been with me a day and she's already being stained a lovely red with some black and blue to accent her beauty. She's almost unrecognizable; she's taken on such a makeover!"

"Stop hurting her!" Edward cried. "Please, stop touching her…"

However, Edward's words only provoked Cecil. "Why would I do that? She enjoys it so much," Cecil's hand lifted my chin, his lips and inch from mine. "Don't you, Bella? Her favorite is when I do this…" His hand strayed up my back, and twirled my hair in his fingers, a hot breath blown from his mouth. I tried to suppress the whimper, but it found its way out. Though his lips never touched mine, he pulled away satisfied and laughed once more.

Discreetly, he switched the phone from speaker, and stood up from the couch. "Anyway, the rules. You and your little family have six days to find out where I am and steal her and the children back. That sounds simple enough, but rest assured, it isn't. If you fail to do so, Bella and I will make our way home, assuming you've abandoned her…" Cecil said something that I couldn't hear, his back turned to me and his voice low. He paused, and then picked up his speech again, and he made his way back to me. "Of course, Bella and the children have their own set of rules to follow. You wouldn't believe how much she talks about you, Edward! It's always, 'Edward will do this, Edward will do that, Edward loves me!'" He sat next to me, and patted my sore cheek. "Every time she mentions you, it's like a slap in the face," He trilled another laugh again. Cecil suddenly looked pleasantly surprised, and turned to me. "Come, Bella, Edward wants you hear your voice! Cry out for him, love!"

With no regards to my punishment, I began to shout and beg for him, calling his name, praying he heard me. No sooner had I started to plead when I found myself crumpled on the carpet, shaking from the blows Cecil had cast on me. Foreign cries came from my throat, comforted by my two children as they tried to soothe my pain.

I did not hear the rest of what Cecil had to say, nor did I care. The only thought that floated across my mind was that I was not with Edward, and he was not here to save us. Instead, I lay on the ground, coughing and beaten, sobbing hysterics that frightened even me.

Like a candle at the end of its wick, I felt my mind slowing, fading, as I drifted into the inky sea of my subconscious, loved by the loneliness and immersed in the isolation.

--

Whether I collapsed or not, I'm not sure. I very well could have, as I dreamt of Edward.

In my mind's eye, he was a child, beautiful and delicate, younger than our own children. He was crouched at the shore of a lake, his bronze hair glistening in the sun light rather than his skin. His cheeks were flushed brilliantly with life, pink and peach, unlike the pale complexion I know. Presumably Elizabeth had dressed him in blue, short trousers and a shirt styled like that of a sailor, which only reminded me of his youth. Knelt down, he wobbled a little, unacquainted with true balance.

In his hands, however, was a corked green bottle with what appeared to be a rolled up sheet of paper. He was offering it to the lapping waters, hesitant and pleading. Slowly, he would hold it out, and then draw back just an inch, studying the wet sand and the water's foamy edge as he extended the bottle once more. He did this for a few minutes before a man's voice was heard out of my vision.

"Edward? What are you doing?"

I looked up and saw Edward's father trekking across the sandy beach, and gasped to myself. I wasn't looking at Edward Sr., but my own Edward, except for a few discrepancies. His hair was brown, light and marked with blonde in places, tousled yet modest. He had the same strong jaw, the same lanky build, and the same pensive expression.

"Watching the water," he answered, pointing at the waves. I was shocked to find that his voice was so similar to Atticus's…

His father picked him up in his arms, and looked him seriously in the eyes. "We were concerned about where you had gone, Edward. You mustn't leave like that without telling your mother or myself."

Edward looked down, suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

The father looked at his son, and finally spotted the green bottle. "What is this?"

"I was… I was sending a message in a bottle."

"What does it say?"

"Nothing, father."

"Don't tell lies to me, Edward," his father answered severely. "What does it say?"

A gentle, slender hand slid on Edward Sr.'s shoulder, the hand of Elizabeth. She smiled at them. "If he doesn't want to tell us, he doesn't have to," she ran her fingers through her son's hair. "Would you like help sending it off?"

He nodded, and lowered himself from his father's arms. Elizabeth knelt down, the thick braid of her bronze hair trailing down her back. She touched her son's wrists, watching the water with him. "When you send a bottle into the ocean, you want to be careful not to let it get pulled back by the sand. I think it would be best if we step a little into the water," she led him into the ocean, keeping a tender grip on him. Edward Sr. came close behind and lowered himself on the other side of his son. "The cork must be tight and allow no water to pass through, or it will cause it to sink to the bottom and no one will ever find it. This is the best part, when you actually put it in the water and watch it float off," she put her hand in the water, watching Edward as he submerged half of it. "Let go and see if it will stay above," Tentatively, he did as she instructed. To his delight, it bobbed happily in the shallow current. "There! Now, let us step back and watch."

The family stepped back onto the sand, staring. For a long time, the only sound was the seagulls calling, the water lulling and pulling at the small green bottle. Distantly, people were laughing and talking as the wind blew by them…

And then I was myself again, standing alone at the very same beach. Where everything had been vibrant and warm, the world was painted in tones of grey, dark and pale. In my hand, I held a bottle with a message for Edward cleanly rolled up inside of it. The murky ocean stretched in front of me, disappearing into a forbidding fog. The howling wind burned my ears, chilling not my skin, but my happiness.

I did not know what the letter said or if it really was for Edward. But with each step into the water, fear grew in me. When I put the bottle into the water, it consumed me, rocking me with each movement of the ocean.

Frightened, I ran from the water, only to gracefully fall into the sand. Unable to stand, I watched the bottle float into the ocean, disappearing from sight, and I cried.

A hand gripped my arm, and pulled me up to me feet—

—And I woke up, face to face with a snarling Cecil, his cool breath smelling of rust and ash.

"You have sinned, Bella," he hissed. "and your punishment awaits you."

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