A/N: Thank you SO much for your patience! I'm sorry for the delay.

Thanks to my wonderful, funny beta – Mrs. Boyscout for dealing with this.

Anthem of the Angels

Life is wicked. Life is selfish. It is unfair and it makes people suffer. It's consuming, sucks all your time, effort, energy, hard fucking work and gives you nothing in return. It makes you grovel. It pushes your limits and tests your abilities. It is hard and it is temporary.

Life is cruel but death is much, much worse.

Death just takes. It doesn't demand a thing from you; it doesn't think of you, it doesn't even give you a fucking chance to be happy. It just swallows and disappears. It leaves you with nothing. It is easier and permanent.

I hugged my knees tightly, trying desperately to find a comfortable position. I was trying to find a position to free me from this pain, this hole in my chest. I was squeezing into myself, as the feeling of emptiness flowed through my veins, the anguish tightening my nerves.

The memories of her lying on the floor, pale, empty…dead, flooded my mind like a tide. It was so unreal. I couldn't believe that she was gone, that she was dead. That she was no longer here. That she was no longer…

Death had visited and taken her away from me and I wasn't there. I had replayed it in my mind a thousand times, playing it like a broken record. What if I had showed up a day earlier? Some hours earlier? Perhaps some minutes…she might have still been alive?

I had denied the scene before me; I had assumed that she had fainted. I had denied the fact that she was lying helpless on the floor, with no life in her eyes. I had picked up her arm and watched it fall limply on the floor. I had called her over and over again. I had slapped her face to be wake her up because I was sure she was sleeping.

It took a minute for me to call the hospital and the ambulance rushed to pick her up. I had still been in denial, as I held her hands, following the stretcher that carried her body, and whispering that everything would be alright. I had whispered how much I loved her. I had whispered to her about my freedom, and how I was going to get it back. I had whispered to her about Edward. I had kissed her forehead as they separated us, ordering me to sit in the waiting room.

I had paced back and forth, praying she was alright. I wasn't religious and I knew this was the wrong time to start having faith but I needed help.

I hadn't had a chance with her. I hadn't showed her how much I had changed, how much life had taught me. She hadn't enjoyed life; she had just gotten out of the hospital. She hadn't fully recovered.

I hadn't enjoyed the fruit of my labor. I hadn't enjoyed the fruits of my sacrifice. I hadn't spent any fucking time with her. We hadn't had our functional mother and daughter relationship. We hadn't even talked about Edward that much. I hadn't told her how much he loved me. I hadn't told her about his family.

I hadn't told her anything.

I thought I had time. I was so sure I had time.

But death had taken it. It had already been to my door the night before. The doctors said she had been dead for ten hours. And I hadn't been there. I wasn't there to protect her. I was drinking and laughing with Heidi.

She had needed me and I hadn't been there.

Perhaps if I had come to visit her that weekend like she'd asked, I would have saved her. I could have gotten her to the hospital in time. And she could have lived. The doctors claimed that there was nothing I could have done. There was a rupture and it couldn't have been prevented.

And now she was gone; now I had to refer to her in the past tense.

She always used to cook delicious dishes for me. She always welcomed me with hugs and kisses when I got back from always chastised me for cursing. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was independent.

She was dead.

That realization shot through me like a bullet. It created a hole in my heart. The echo of pain that drove through my chest and hit the valves made me feel empty. It shattered everything, everything I had built with my hands from scratch, everything I had suffered for, everything I had practically lived for. It had killed my lifeline. I was just a constant state of nothing.

I knew when Edward was here, I could feel him when he touched me the first time. I heard him when he called my name. I felt his love seep through his bones and radiate out to me when he consoled me. But he couldn't make this right. He couldn't make me feel happy. He couldn't cure me of this grief. He couldn't make this excruciating pain go away.

I didn't want to feel anything, not pain, not grief, not anger, not love. I didn't want to eat, drink, talk, or do any fucking thing but wait for the grief to kill me.

When he had asked me about taking a shower, I didn't want to do it and I certainly didn't know he was going to bathe me. But when I considered it further, I planned to just drown myself in the tub and take it all away. I had actually constructed how it would have worked in my brain. I get in the tub and run the amazing hot water. I'll feel it burn my skin and I'll cringe in pain, but I'll go all the way in. I'll submerge my body and then lie down and let the hot water burn my nostrils; and in a few minutes I'll be dead. But I'll die of torture first, because the heat would kill my outsides before killing my insides. It was that simple.

I wanted to drown my will to live.

But I couldn't do that, not with him here. I couldn't cause him the same pain I was feeling. I couldn't make him go through the same shit I was going through because he loved me.

I watched his chest rise and fall with his slow breathing. He didn't look comfortable in his sleep. His brows were knitted together and worry was etched all over his face. I was tempted to wake him up, but he needed rest. He needed to sleep for a while more before I woke him up. I curved into a fetal position, letting my mind consume his sight, distracting myself from thinking about…

His square jaw was so smooth; he had definitely shaved. His hair was a beautiful mess hovering over his face. His palms looked so soft, I imagined them on my skin every time he…

"Where is she?" Aro's voice interrupted my thoughts.

I always hated the hallway of this fucking brothel. You could practically hear everything behind your room door. I just wanted privacy right now and I didn't want anyone disturbing Edward from his sleep.

"Aro, you can't go in there," Heidi whispered, but was still quite loud. "I can't allow you,"

"Is he in there?" Aro's voice asked incredulously. "You allowed him to fucking sleep in my brothel? What does this look like? A fucking hotel?" his voice raised up a notch.

"I didn't know what to do. She wouldn't respond to me, so I called him. You know he's the only one she would listen to."

"Why the fuck didn't you call me? I'm the owner of this fucking place. She stays under my goddamn roof; you should have called me, to inform me!" his loud voice made Edward stir in his sleep.

I got up slowly and kissed his forehead before placing on a sweater. I opened the door gently and saw Heidi, Aro and Felix standing by it, looking surprised.

"If you fucking wake him up, lord fucking help me, there will be another grave," I sneered as Aro flinched backward in astonishment. "Lay just one finger on him, and trust me Aro, everyone in this town will know about all your fucking dealings – including your wife."

"Fine!" Aro belted out. "I need to see you in my office now!" He ordered me to follow him as he and Felix started walking toward his office.

Heidi shot me a sympathetic look and tried to ask if I was okay. I nodded toward her and walked behind Aro. The girls had flooded the edges of the hallway, standing by the room doors and watching as Aro Felix and I walked down toward his office. Jessica tried to smile at me warily as I passed. Angela whispered how much she was sorry about Renee. Victoria gave me a slight nod, which felt more comforting than the pity written all over Irina, Claire and Lauren's faces.

We finally finished the walk of shame, or whatever it was, to Aro's office and Demetri shut the door behind us.

This was the first time in all the years I had spent at the brothel that I didn't feel fear in his presence. Normally, I would be afraid of the guns or Aro's calm demeanor but not today. Today, I felt nothing. I didn't care if he wanted to kill me or punish me or fire me. He couldn't do anything that would compare to the pain that was in my heart. I was immune to him. I just folded my arms and stood there; waiting to hear the shit he had to say.

"Isabella," he started his normal approach, sitting down on his chair and placing his leg on the table. "I am terribly sorry for your loss."

I hated when people said that. Sorry. Or maybe I just hated him saying it when he didn't appear to be sorry.

"I know that this is a difficult time for you and it would be tough for you to get by, seeing as you've lost your…" he swallowed. "Your family."

Mother would have sufficed. It probably would have sounded a whole lot better than family. Family, made the whole thing sound tragic.

"So I've decided to give you a break to grieve. Like about a month or two or three. After the burial and after you've regained yourself and moved on from this tragedy, you can resume work." He said with an air of finality.

I looked at Aro. I looked into his eyes for the first time. I really looked at him. He used to seem so strong to me, so invincible; the more I looked, the more fragile he seemed. His hands which seemed so strong, I now realized I could probably snap each single fucking digit of his hand and enjoy it. He was twisting his neck, appearing to be uncomfortable under my scrutinizing gaze.

Aro was such a stupid fucking asshole. He thought the world revolved around him, that women should bow at his feet for his mere presence. He thought he owned me. The deal was off. My mother was dead. She was the reason for this agreement. She no longer was in the picture, so there was no reason to work here anymore.

I was done.

We were through.

The contract was unnecessary now.

"Do you have a problem with this arrangement Isabella? You seem to be fighting with yourself," he said with a calm demeanor.

"Fuck you!" I spat in disgust as his eyes opened wide in bewilderment.

He couldn't believe that I was talking back at him rudely. I wasn't placing him on a pedestal stone anymore. He was no longer riding a horse, with me cleaning his fucking shoes. We were on the same level.

"I'm sure I didn't hear you correctly, Miss Swan." His voice had a rough sharp edge to it. He seemed to not be appreciating my attitude.

"Well, I think you heard me. I said fuck you. As in F-U-C-K you, Aro Volturi. Fuck you!" I let my words wrap around his mind as the shock on his face disintegrated to that of anger.

"You're upset. You just lost your mother. You don't know what you're saying,"

"Look, the deal is off. The contract is done. I will no longer be working for you. The only reason why I was doing this shit was because of her. She's gone. No deal."

"Isabella, you are getting on my nerves," he smiled cynically. "Leave my office. Get rest. Get over it. Then come back when I want you to come back."

I spat on his desk and walked out of his office. He ordered Demetri not to follow me and I was glad because I didn't have the energy for a fight, nor could I fight a man. I was riding my high horse now. I slipped back into my room quietly but didn't find Edward lying on the bed anymore.

I wondered where he could have gone to as I changed my clothes. I picked up my phone from my bag and checked to see a number of missed calls from Edward, the hospital and Laurent.

"Bella, are you okay?" Edward's voice shocked me, almost making my phone slip from my hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I nodded, turning the phone off and facing him.

A smile lit up his face at the fact that I had responded to him.

"Bella, I'm here for you and I–"

"Edward, can you drive me to the hospital?" I cut him off. I wasn't ready to get sentimental just yet.

"Yeah, sure."

***

I walked down the hallways, turning into the waiting section of the hospital. I hated hospitals; they smelt like medicines, sicknesses and death. Patients were moving around pushing their IV drip poles. Families were sitting by the bedsides of their loved ones, watching them eat and hoping they get better. And when the patient died, the room would be cleaned for another patient. It was all very sickening.

Edward hadn't said a word to me on the way to the hospital and I was grateful for the silence. I didn't want to talk about anything or even think. Everything felt surreal; I had a hard time accepting that she was…

"Bella," Dr. Laurent tried to smile as he ushered me and Edward into his office. "I didn't know you'd be bringing somebody with you. Hello Mr. Cullen, please have a seat,"

A man dressed into a clean black suit sat in one of the chairs in front of Laurent's desk while I took the chair beside him. Edward took a seat on the couch beside the door.

"Bella, please meet Mr. Peterson," Laurent gestured to the man beside me. "He's a lawyer, actually your mother's lawyer, and he's here to give instructions on her funeral and her will,"

I was surprised; I hadn't known that Renee had a lawyer. But of course she had to have one, especially during the divorce that happened between her and Charlie.

"Hello Bella," Mr. Peterson smiled, shaking my hand firmly before taking out his glasses and sliding them on to his face. "So would you like to do this in private or do you want him here?" he asked, his eyes pointing to Edward.

"Uh, I can leave," Edward said, standing up.

"No, I want him to stay," I replied, stretching my hand out to hold his.

Mr. Peterson picked up his suitcase and got out a folder from it. He opened it and placed a few papers on the desk.

"Your mother was a very kind woman, Miss Swan. I am so sorry to see her go," he said with compassion, glancing at me before shuffling his papers.

I ignored his statement as I knew that everyone was going to be sorry that this happened to me. I didn't want 'sorry' and what I wanted they couldn't give me.

"Renee wrote her will a few years back and she insisted that when she died, your father, Charlie should be invited for the funeral." He placed his two hands together as I stared at him in shock.

"I'm sorry, what?" I shook my head, hoping the air of confusion would dilute and give me a clear understand of what exactly he was saying.

"Renee wanted her ex-husband, Charlie Swan to be present at the funeral. There is going to be one right?"

"Why the fuck would she want that?" I stood up, sending my chair backwards.

"Bella calm down," Laurent said.

Edward rubbed the back of my palm soothingly while I ran my free hand through my hair.

"He is your father; you can't deny him an invitation to the funeral. He needs to know," Laurent said calmly.

"How the fuck can you say that?" I shouted. "He left us! He was never here. He didn't even know about her condition. He didn't care and you want him to be at the funeral? He has no right!"

"He has every right Bella; it is your mother's wish." Mr. Peterson said firmly. "I know the divorce must have been difficult for you both but she did love him and she has requested this."

"Where the fuck do you come here and start telling me what she has and hasn't requested? Where were you when she was dying? Where were you when we needed the money for the surgery? Huh?" I barked at him as he sat down calmly in his chair.

"Bella, please calm down. You shouldn't get worked up over this. We have other things to sort out first. Now I know this is difficult but you have to go with it. I was her doctor and she told me that she would want Charlie there. Now if he refuses to show up, that's a different case – but we have to inform him." Laurent explained.

I sat down back in my chair, the anger still rolling off from my body. Why would she want him there? She must have known that he didn't care for her. If he did, he would have known she was sick in the first place.

"She wrote a letter to him, which I will send once I can get a hold of his address. I have it here with the will. I was just letting you know so it won't take you by surprise when you see him there," Mr. Peterson said. "She also left a letter for you and a few things which she wrote in her will. You would be receiving the house and the money that was stored in her bank account."

"What money?" I looked up to him in confusion.

"Well," Mr. Peterson removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes and placed them back on. He brought his hands back together, as if he was buying time or trying to avoid the topic. "Your mother has some money in her account that she willed to you."

"Yes, you've said that. How much fucking money are we talking about?" I scowled due to my impatience.

"Eighty thousand dollars," Mr. Peterson sighed.

What?

Wait, WHAT?

"What the fuck?" I almost stood up from my chair. "I'm sorry, maybe we are not fucking talking about the same Renee here. The woman who was my mother and who was sick had eighty thousand dollars in her fucking account? Who put eighty grand in her account?"

"Yes. Your grandparents provided the money. Now wait," he held up his hand to pause my questioning. "When your mother met Charlie, they didn't approve of him, because they had someone else they wanted her to marry. She refused of course and married Charlie. So she left them and lost contact with them. Later on, she made a call to me, asking me to talk to them and let them know she was sick. Her father was devastated and he and her mother sent eighty thousand to take care of her health costs and any other expenses.

That was the first time she had contacted them since Charlie left. She wanted to use the money for the surgery at first, but when she figured that you had a possibility of making the money, she didn't. Then she wanted to return it back to them but they wouldn't take it back. So she placed it in an account so that if anything happened to her, you would have something to bounce back on." Mr. Peterson finished.

My mind seemed to be paralyzed at this information. Surely, this couldn't have been possible. I had never met or heard about my grandparents before; she never mentioned anything about them.

"You can't leave me Charlie, I left everything for you" my mother cried as she followed him down the stairs.

"I'm so sorry. I have failed you. I shouldn't have left you with this burden for you to carry alone. I should have tried really hard and suffered for you to take the next step to college. I shouldn't have been so dependent on Charlie,"

Her words rang in my head as I placed my head into my hands as a pool of tears formed in my eyes. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She had had the money all along. I had suffered for nothing. If I had told her that I was going to be a prostitute, perhaps she would have used the money from her parents instead and she'd still be alive.

Had she always known that she was going to die?

We'd had money all along – money that could have been the ultimate cure for her problem in the beginning.

"Bella?" I heard Edward's comforting voice as he carried me and placed me on his lap. "It's okay, sweet thing," he rocked me slowly.

"I know this news is a lot to take in Bella, but we have to start making arrangements for the burial. Her body can only stay in the morgue for a certain amount of days," Laurent said calmly.

I looked at both men. "What do you want me to do?"

"Cremation or a burial?" Mr. Peterson asked, sympathy glowing his eyes.

"Burial," I answered softly.

"I'll make the call to the funeral home then," Mr. Peterson said, standing up.

***

I felt like I was trapped in a dream; a dream that included a mass of people wearing black, holding a bunch of flowers and standing in a cemetery. I sat in the front seat of Edward's car and watched. I had told him I just needed a minute, but really I needed to get out of there. I could barely hold it together when I had seen her polished brown casket. Now that I had money from nowhere, I could afford to buy her an expensive coffin. I could afford to buy her so many things now she was gone.

I hadn't cried and let out all the pain yet. I succumbed to the numbness that accompanied me as soon as I started the burial arrangements. Edward kept on assuring me that he was here if I needed to talk. I nodded but didn't talk. I hated the disappointment that flickered over his face when he knew I wasn't going to confide in him.

Alice had tried to be there but she didn't know what to say to someone who had lost someone, especially when she hadn't. She did pick out what I wore to the funeral though.

I looked back to her gravesite. I had thought I would have just the priest, Edward, Heidi and Alice for the burial. I hadn't even thought Alice would show but she came and so did Jasper. However, there were a few more people added to that list. Jessica came to show her sympathy or some other fucking feeling that I wasn't sure of. Angela made it, and surprisingly Lauren followed. Then again Lauren and Jessica were Siamese twins, where one went, the other followed. Victoria came, her eyes hidden under her black sunglasses. Aro sent Felix to come in his place. Laurent and Mr. Peterson also were present. And if I didn't think it was against the etiquette of funerals, I would have said that Laurent was looking at Heidi in a very strange, but interested way. This could have been wrong though, maybe he was just repulsed by the amount of prostitutes at a funeral.

I couldn't fucking care less.

"Hey," Alice smiled warmly at me as I moved my gaze from my black painted nails to her face.

"Hey yourself," I replied with a smile.

"So funerals need like more colors. The black makes everyone feel too depressed," she said, leaning on the side of the car.

I looked at her for a few good seconds before bursting into laughter. I wasn't sure why I was laughing. I looked at the small crowd and tried to picture all of them in colors and just sent me into another fit of laughter. Alice was laughing too when she saw me, and both of us laughed for a while before I started gasping for breath.

I swallowed as I saw a red Mercedes Benz drive toward where Edward's car was packed. A young lady wearing a red hat came down from the car. I couldn't exactly see her but as soon as I saw the man come down from the driver's seat, a hiss slipped from my mouth.

As if on cue, Edward walked toward me and squatted in front of me.

He kissed my hand like a gentleman and looked at me with warmth swimming in his green eyes. "You promised me to be on best behavior," he warned as Charlie Swan walked toward the crowd. "For me," he added.

I nodded, slipping my fingers into his palm as he pulled me up. Alice, Edward and I walked back to the crowd as people started dumping their bouquet of flowers close to the gravestone.

Most of them didn't actually know my mother and so they didn't have anything to say. They just walked up, dropped their flowers and walked back. Heidi dropped a single red rose and kissed the gravestone which brought my attention to it.

I hadn't inscribed anything glamorous on it. It was granite and said 'In loving memory of Renee Dwyer.' Charlie looked at me for a good couple of minutes while I glared back.

He walked toward her resting place and said a few words that I had blocked my ears from hearing. As far as I was concerned he wasn't supposed to be here, so in my mind, he wasn't here.

The service was quicker than I expected. Everyone paid their respects before they each diverted to their destinations. Charlie tried to talk to me but Edward blocked him, insisting that I wasn't ready yet. They had a short conversation before Charlie left. I guessed he told Edward that he would come back and have a talk with me.

When everyone was out of sight, Edward walked toward me and asked, "I'm going to wait in the car and when you're ready, we can go home," he smiled and then kissed my forehead.

I watched him walk to the car and shut the door before I sat down in front of the gravestone, my legs crossing each other.

"So, uh, I'm supposed to just fucking talk?" I asked out loud, and then laughed at my stupidity. "Mom, why the fuck didn't you tell me that you had eighty thousand dollars?" I asked with annoyance. "Did you fucking know that you were going to die?"

The wind got colder as it whipped my hair.

"I know you always said I had a vulgar mouth, I'm sorry it comes with working at a brothel. If you had to live there, you'd be cursing like a sailor too; so don't judge me." I twisted my fingers against my black dress.

"Edward's nice…" I trailed off, looking toward the direction of the car. "He's actually pretty fucking hot too. Sorry," I muttered at my curse word. "He's been so kind and patient with me but I don't know…" I bit my lips. "I just…it's too much to bear. This pain inside, I can't take it." I said as tracks of tears ran down my cheeks. "I just can't believe you're gone." I gasped. "I mean, you're gone." I tried to wipe my face and stop myself from crying but I couldn't.

I was sitting at her gravesite.

I was looking at her bare, granite gravestone.

There were so many flowers on it.

I was wearing a black dress.

I had just buried my mother.

I dropped my head toward my lap and I cried. I let it all out, the pain, the hurt, the surprise – all of it glided down as tears on my face. I had no choice, but to let it go because she was already gone.

So I continued crying.

Let me know what you think

Oh, I uh, have a short story up called 'A Tangled Web', you can check it out.