Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment purposes only. The characters and world belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just like playing with them.

Chapter 21 - Growing

.~.

It had been our third date, when Kevin kissed me and I completely froze. When I nearly had a panic attack at the physical intimacy with something as simple as a kiss, I knew I was in trouble. I really liked Kevin. And even though he was 21 and just out of college, he was fine taking it slowly with me. But if I couldn't let him kiss me without having some sort flashback we weren't going to last much longer.

I was much more upset about it than I should have been. I wanted to touch him, and let him touch me, but the thought of his hands on me, or his lips on me reminded me of Cole or Mr. Golswiki every time. My problem was that I hadn't really talked about with anyone, not even the Cullen's really.

Kevin took me to a park for our fourth date; he had packed a picnic lunch and slowly we meandered through the crowds of people to sit partially in the shade. It was a bright clear Sunday afternoon, the heat could be seen rippling up in waves from the hot pavement, and I wasn't sure if there would be any ice left in the cooler.

Kevin wasn't shy exactly, but I found he wasn't chatty. He never went off on a tangent about anything; he would just make comments and talk at a slow deliberate pace. I joked that he'd be great at recording audio books. He laughed the idea off, because he loved his job.

When I found out he worked on a horse ranch outside of Chicago I went all girly on him. He couldn't believe I'd never ridden a horse with how enthusiastic I was about them, and promised he'd take me out sometime.

"Come here," he gently called to me, holding his hand out while he was sitting on the quilted blanket he had set up. I hesitated while still holding my small cooler. I put it down and took his hand. Instantly I was pulled into his lap.

A regular girl would giggle and laugh as their date pulled them into their lap and gently kissed their temple. A regular girl would have basked in the attention. But I wasn't regular, and my reaction introduced Kevin to that fact.

I stiffened and froze in his lap, and after a quick kiss to my temple he figured out I wasn't enjoying it.

"Sorry I-" he began, his tone was full of confusion.

"No… just- it's okay, it's me," I timidly told him while gracelessly crawling out of his lap.

"I would never hurt you Ange."

Kneeling next to him I looked at my arm, the scars so plainly running up and down its length. If Edward hadn't stitched them up I would have much more grotesque scars, and instead they looked dainty and almost like artistic markings.

"I brought pickles, you like pickles right?" I asked quickly, trying to change the mood that seemed to threaten the chances of this ending as a good date.

"Ange…" he sighed with concern. I avoided looking at him, and slumped back down so my butt was sitting on the blanket. I didn't stiffen when I felt his hand gently running through my hair.

He seemed to let it drop after that, and not attempt to hold me beyond my hands, and I felt horrible for the guy. I'd let the Cullen's touch me more within a couple days of knowing them, and I hadn't reacted like this. Maybe I had been unconsciously aware of the fact they weren't human and the only thing they desired from my body was my blood.

Kevin was very much a human man. And he was definitely good looking, nice high cheekbones, a slightly tan complexion I knew he got from working outside. I had to be honest; he had a nice ass, almost on par with Edward. I mean, I may freeze at his actual touch but I did fantasize about it once in a while. There didn't seem much I could do to stop it either. My logical brain would stop working once I actually felt warm hands on my skin.

We talked about going to see a play when he came back in town on Wednesday night, as he was leaving for the Ranch after the date.

"Have you finished the song?" Kevin asked after compiling a cheese cracker combination.

I winced and crinkled my nose, "Almost, the bridge is giving me trouble."

While chewing his food he gave me a goofy encouraging smile. I returned it and watched the other people moving around the park. There were families, young teenagers, little kids, all enjoying the humid summer day. It was one of those bearable summer days where the wind would blow at infrequent intervals and cool your skin.

"Can I hear it when you're done?" he asked.

"I'd love to sing it for you," I blushed. If there was one thing I was confident about these days, it was my voice. Somehow after leaving the Cullen's it seemed… more profound, even to me. Now that I didn't ever have to go back to school I didn't feel the weight of being so stupid on my shoulders I felt a confidence in myself I hadn't before. Kevin knew I sang, as we'd talked about me practicing at the studio, but he had yet to hear me.

It was a light picnic lunch, as the heat was too repressive to make you want to eat much, even if you were hungry.

"Vince is coming next Saturday, if you do manage to switch shifts you can meet him then," Kevin was enthusiastic about me meeting his older brother for some reason. I guessed it was because the two boys got a long so well.

"Did he ever figure out if that was a guy or a girl he made out with at Burning Man?" I asked chuckling. It had been a hilarious story, that Kevin made sure to tell me because as he told it everyone on the planet should know that story.

"No, but now he swears he remembers feeling an Adam's apple."

I made the psssspht noise and waved it off.

"He says that now, didn't he tell you he had no idea who's underwear he had, and how he had no idea how he'd managed to get his nose pierced?"

Kevin's grin broke out into full on laughter, "That's right. He still won't show me the undies. So…" he trailed off waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

We packed up and were saying our goodbye's by my XTracer, which was due to be checked out on Tuesday, thanks to Kevin bothering me about it.

"Ange," he started confidently. I gave him a coy smile and dipped my head, letting my pony tail trail over my back and the scars there. "I don't want to over step, but I just want to know… It really isn't me you have issue's… touching right?" he asked. I instantly felt floored by his question. He wasn't stupid; of course he'd notice my reactions to his touch.

"No," I said instantly and confidently. I blinked back the moisture that stung my eyes. "It's not you. I want to- I just. You'll have to be patient with me."

Kevin's brown eyes looked into mine searchingly, and I almost wanted to look away, but I held the gaze because he was just so sincere.

"I know I am just some guy," he waved his hand in front of himself and I shook my head about to interrupt, "-And you might not want to tell me what exactly is wrong, but have you ever told anyone?" he was nothing but concerned.

"I-I haven't really talked about it," I murmured, wishing he didn't look so damned sincere and kind. His eyes frowned, but he nodded. Sighing sadly he took my hand and gently brought it to his lips, and as ever his eyes held mine. They were like swimming pools of chocolate milk and the shimmered with adoration. The blush was natural as his lips grazed the back of my knuckles.

He gently held my hand after he'd kissed it.

"If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here to listen. If you don't want to talk to me… that's fine. But maybe-"

"I will," I answered his line of thoughts. In fact I had been thinking along the same lines. Talking about it, not necessarily to him, could help. God did I want to touch him, to feel his soft lips on mine.

Once I got in to my bike he waved to me before putting on some chap stick with the hand that wasn't carrying the picnic basket. I found out early on that Kevin had one real vice, and that was Chap Stick.

.~.

Long lonely nights lying in my bed I would think about the Cullen's and why I had left.

When I was little, before my mum disappeared I had some semblance of freedom, at least what I could remember as freedom within the house hold. Then in the Foster care system I had been told who my family was, and who was responsible for me. I'd been controlled in a way I tolerated in a grey haze of ambivalence for the last eight years, because I had little choice. Of course I could have reacted like many of the kids in the system and dabbled in dangerous and self destructive behavior, but I knew then I didn't want to be that kind of person shortly after I'd seen what that path could lead me to. I think that above all else that was the reason why I left after Adam's funeral. I was finally able to leave, I was old enough and confident enough that I could leave when I wanted to. It was a freedom and understanding I had gained through living with the Cullen's ironically enough.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do on my own, or if I would ever see them again, because different sides of me warred when I thought on it. They had hurt me in a way I'd never fathomed possible and it tinged my love of them with a bitter taste. For the most part I tried to distract myself from thinking about them.

The middle of August was hot and stormy. One such stormy day I had just finished talking with Kevin, he was going to delay coming back into the city because of the weather warnings while I was at the music studio. I had been singing and recording things on my computer for about an hour before someone appeared outside the window in the hallway.

I caught him staring and he gestured to the door so I opened it for him, inquiring to what he might want.

Apparently he and the band he was producing music for had been practicing down the hall when they'd heard me singing. There was no way to control the blush that bloomed on my face when he complimented me.

Our conversation was short, as they had a limited amount of time to practice here before they had a concert to play that night. He gave me a ticket to come watch the band play, as well as his card for his indie label recording studio in south Chicago.

I had to stay in the music studio for an hour after my rental time was up so I wouldn't be driving in a downpour, all the while I studied the business card and day dreamed.

Branson Kildahl was the owner of Land Ocean records, and he begged me to come to his studio and work out maybe signing me to record an album with him. As I had refused his first offer to come sing for the band he was producing, he told me I could be a solo act. His green eyes beamed animatedly as he described my voice and style. Branson seemed like one of those happy-go-lucky people you only ever see in movies; despite the fact he had full sleeve tattoos and multiple piercings.

I fantasized about playing to large audiences and hearing my songs on the radio. Getting others to hear the stories I'd written in song while I pushed the emotions that matched with my voice would be a dream come true.

Most of the songs I'd been writing were based off of my own personal loss and trials but I wrote them with the mindset that I wasn't the only one to experience loss and pain, as well as love and joy. Branson gave me a sliver of hope to dream on, as if I could really put these songs out there and maybe one day, let someone just like me know they were understood. That they weren't alone, and through me and my pain they too had a voice.

The notice board in the lobby was regularly displaying weather map updates as well as electronic flyers. One caught my attention so I tapped it, while the day dream about recording my songs was pushed back in my mind.

"Women's abuse support group. All Ages welcome. Meetings 6-8pmTuesdays and Thursdays in St. Michael's church community room. Supportive ears and light snacks provided."

I blinked and blankly stared at the small notice. It was one among hundreds of different ads and notices. But it stuck out to me in so many ways. Maybe this was what people meant when they said something was kismet. I swallowed hard and tapped the notice again and put my phone up to the barcode it displayed so I could download the information. The light on my phone blinked twice letting me know it had the information.

Could I talk to a women's group about what had happened to me? Moreover could I deal with listening to all the horrible things that'd happen to others? It wasn't like I didn't care; it was I didn't want to care. I'd never wanted to care about how horrible other's lives were, because there was never anything I could do to help them. And I'd want to. Julie had realized this about me shortly after we'd been sharing the same room at the Conner's. If I cared I would become depressed about how unbearable things were for others. I couldn't fix my own problems and hearing about others would make me feel more helpless and worthless.

But if going to this support group could help allow me to be comfortable touching Kevin it would be worth it.

I sighed heavily as I looked at my phone, absentmindedly stroking the new text I'd gotten from Ren. I deleted it after a moment where I wondered what she'd sent me. I wondered if her texts were all the same. The anger at the Cullen's lies had subdued quite a bit, and in fact I didn't think about their betrayal as much as I thought about how I missed them.

But even if I missed them, there were just some hurts that couldn't be forgiven, even if they healed.

There was a lot of water on the roads that kept getting kicked up while I drove to the concert where the band 'Shells' was playing. For a band I'd never heard of before they seemed to have a large following as the parking lot was full. Thank goodness for motorbike parking as it was the only area available for blocks. I got inside just after the opening act was finishing their last song.

I stayed in the back of the bar, watching the lights spin around, and the people sway.

While the opening act was clearing the stage I listened idily to the music over the speakers. I recognized the song, but not the artist, and I felt dumb for not knowing.

"Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be all right." He sang, and it felt a little humorous that this song was playing while people got more drinks and mingled while they waited for their main act.

I had always been a fan of music, and lyrics. Often I would try and imagine what the writer of the song had been doing or thinking when they wrote it. This singer, if he wrote the song, I could imagine him sitting inside his small place on the beach somewhere tropical while it rained. He would look out his window and see the clouds slowly drifting away and the rain stopping. Every little thing would be alright.

And those words, for him, might mean something much more profound than what I envisioned, but perhaps he really just meant it in the simplest way. As if to say to a good friend that he knew what hardships were out there and was just giving encouragement.

Someone stumbled into me jolting me out of my musings. I'd made a mental note to look up the artist of that song and really listen to it.

Shells were one of the bands on the new wave of rock and jazz. They had an amazing trumpet and trombone player, and the audience loved the set. I enjoyed it too, but I think Branson was right when he said they could really do with some more vocal talent. Their lead singer was a thin dark skinned man that could croon and belt out some fantastic soul soaring notes. But I could hear quite a few spots where a female vocal would be better.

By time I got home I was so lost in my thoughts about my future and the possibility of a singing career totally forgot I hadn't had dinner.

.~.

Parking and turning off my bike I stared at the plain looking cream colored building. I had left a half hour before and thought the drive would be short. But it appeared I had been mistaken in my assumption. There had been all sorts of time distractions on my way here. There had been a rather long detour because of a street parade and construction on one of the alternate routes. I hit every stop light on the way, and as a result I was about twenty minutes late.

I got out of my bike and shut the hatch, and then stood there staring at the entrance, wondering how awkward it would be to go in late. I debated with myself to even come at all and now that I was standing outside I debated myself again.

Looking at my cell I wished I could call Ren and have her give me a little annoyed speech about committing myself to getting better. It was better that I didn't call her; I decided putting the phone back in my bag.

It was a little quiet for my tastes as I climbed the stairs into St. Michaels the street noise seemed die down significantly adding to a little ominous feeling I already had. The little signs in the small lobby of the church pointed me to the community room, and I felt my heart thrumming stiffly in my chest. Every thump of it in my chest echoed in my ears as I walked through the hallway with glass on either side, each allowing me to peer into dark empty rooms. Rooms I assumed were used for other church activities. I saw the second door on the right open, light streaming out into the well lit hallway. I heard soft talking and murmurs.

My steps slowed, and I shifted my bag over my shoulder nervously. I bit my lower lip and ran through all the reasons I was here instead of at a psychologist's office.

I needed people that had been through similar things to help show me how to get past some of the hurdles I was facing. A psychologist would give me some spiel about some mental mumbo jumbo I wouldn't really understand.

This women's group was free. A psychologist would charge money…per hour.

The biggest reason I was here was I needed to know, I needed to see, that someone who'd been through hell and back could get better. I felt normal, howver the situation with Kevin was like a smack in the face at how not normal I truly was. I'd been very adept at avoiding thinking about unpleasant things as if they didn't happen, and for the most part it worked well. Except that I knew it didn't. If finally letting my mum go was any clue I knew holding that pain and anguish inside was only causing horrible side effects. Case in point Mr. Golswiki's attack on me was still hampering my ability to let a man I was lusting after touch me.

Once I got into the doorway I saw a group of about six women sitting in folding chairs in a circle. Purses and bags were on a table near the door, along with pamphlets a coffee carafe and crackers. One middle aged women saw me as soon as I stepped in and smiled at me. She had very curly brown hair worn short. The woman who'd been talking stopped and turned in her seat to see what the others were looking at.

Part of me felt relief at the fact there seemed to be one other girl here who was around my age. And the relief was just above the feeling of frustration I always felt when faced with other people with problems. I almost turned on my heel and left, but the curly haired woman stood up.

"Welcome… would you like to get a coffee before sitting?" she asked kindly as she shuffled to come stand in front of me. She was treating me carefully, as if I was a wild animal and any little thing could set me running. Which, to be fair, wasn't far from the truth.

I opened my mouth to say something, but thought better of it and nodded.

While I made a cup of coffee, adding creamer after creamer I heard movement of chairs on linoleum. When I turned around the six women were watching me interestedly.

I sat after putting my bag by the others on the table.

Curly haired woman introduced herself as Kendra. To her left of the circle wearing a flower print summer dress was Hannah, she must have been in her late thirties. Each woman quickly introduced themselves going around the circle, till it came back to me. I stated my name and ducked my head.

"Sam, would you like to pick up where you left off?" Kendra asked, and I concentrated on my cup, relieved at least for the moment they hadn't asked me to share anything.

Sam, was the other girl that seemed to be around my age. She had a sort of annoying tone in her voice that sounded half bitchy and half contemptuous. I couldn't be sure if it was because I'd come in and interrupted her story, but I didn't like it and I shifted in my seat as she finished the story she'd been telling.

Sam had been struggling with her college dorm mate and her dorm mates boyfriend's loud make-out sessions. I listened and didn't look up from my abysmal coffee the whole time, as I didn't have anything to add mostly because I didn't know what might set her off.

I didn't catch the end of the story and when someone asked me a question it jolted me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry," I mumbled and timidly smiled at the other women. The woman to my right chuckled lightly, in a friendly way.

"It's alright, Evangeline. I was just asking where you are from." Kendra waved her hand in front of her as if my lack of attention was nothing to worry about.

"Wisconsin," I stated, and sighed.

"Have you lived in Chicago long?" the woman to my right asked interestedly.

"No."

"Me either. I'm from Arizona, just moved here a few months ago. They keep telling me to be prepared for the winters." She chuckled, and I found myself cautiously smiling at her. She looked nice, although she wasn't what I would call pretty. At least her smile was genuine.

"Are you going to school Evangeline?" Hannah asked after taking a sip of her coffee.

"No." I paused and looked at the group, debating whether or not to add to that statement.

"I hate school, actually," I explained needlessly. Sam scoffed and crossed her arms.

"School was always hard for me," one of the older women admitted. She was rather fat, and reminded me a bit of an old version of Sophila. I thought her name might have been Stephaney, but I wasn't sure.

"You did well enough in Home Economics didn't you Stacy?" one of the others laughed, and Stacy (Stephaney) made a pouty huffy look, but broke out chuckling a second later.

The group meeting didn't feel like I thought it would.

It wasn't what I thought it'd be like.

But it was better. I had been thinking of upset depressed women going on about their abusers and each of them taking turns comparing their pain and trying to support one another. I mentioned part of these thoughts towards the end of the meeting.

"Well, there are days when the meetings turn out like that…" Hannah sighed sadly.

"Everyone heals differently Evangeline. All this group is here to do is help everyone along that path for as long as it takes for them to grow. It may take years to get over the abuse, it may never happen," I saw Kendra's eyes sadly glance to Stacy, "But for me the most important thing is to know I have friends that understand what it's like, and to know it's okay to smile and laugh. My life is no longer dictated by my fears and… I have the group to thank for that."

Sam nodded along with what Kendra was saying, and Hannah was smiling timidly at me.

At the end of the meeting, when I was walking to my bike, I felt a weight lift from me. Not that I had told any of the group my fears and my reasons for coming, but they hadn't pressed me to talk about it and I was relieved.

I went back to the Thursday meeting, and this time, I was on time, although it was raining again.

"Welcome back Evangeline!" Laurie greeted me. I knew a little about her and we started talking before the others showed up.

She was a mother of three, two boys and a girl. Her first husband had been very abusive and she left him after a very brutal attack. Her new husband was much kinder; he was a high school science technology teacher. She had a timid disposition, and she had this air about her that just reeked of her being a mother. It hurt being this close to her, and hearing the kindness in her voice. She reminded me so much of Esme, it was as if Laurie was channeling her spirit.

The others came in and Kendra called the group to order asking if anyone had something they'd like to discuss today.

Everyone looked to each other, and I waited to see if anyone else would start.

A pressure built in me; it felt tight in my throat and made my eyes tear thinking about my own situation.

"I have a boyfriend-" I blurted out. All six pairs of eyes looked to me; the varying degrees of emotions they sent to me had me nervous. No one said anything as they waited for me.

"I met him just after moving here… and I really…really like him." I glanced at Kendra, and wondered what was going through her head. I didn't want them to assume Kevin was the reason I was here so I pushed through the anxiety and told them, "I want to be able to touch him, and let him touch me. I do. But every time he tries-I-I freeze." I hung my head and looked to my hands after my confession.

"He isn't forcing you?" Sam asked.

I shook my head.

"After I was attacked, it nearly killed my marriage. I couldn't stand my husband to do the simplest touches, and I snapped at him when he tried…" Stacy stated, her tone consoling and understanding.

"There were days when I couldn't stand to touch anybody," Kim agreed readily.

"How did you and Zach work through it?" Hannah asked Stacy.

Stacy clasped her hands in her lap, and I slowly raised my eyes to meet hers. She looked at me while she answered Hannah's question.

"We took it slow, of course. But what helped was when I told him all the things going through my head when I flinched away from him. My therapist told me to just state whatever was running through my head the instant I started pulling away. Zach realized quickly it wasn't him that was the problem, any more than it was me."

Kim smiled, "When I started dating again I just worked my way up with smaller touches," at that all the women were nodding agreeing.

"Even…small touches have me freezing. And the thing is… I know I want him. I know what's doing it and yet it is still keeping me back and-" I stopped my face scrunching up in frustration.

"It's like your abuser still has a hold on you," Kendra stated, interrupting my moment of contemplations. I tried to keep the shock from my face, but it was useless.

"Do you trust him enough to tell him a little about what has you freezing?" Kendra asked.

I shrugged, "I do trust him. But I think he knows that something must have happened to me. He suggested I talk to someone about… what happened." My response was rather morose. Some of the ladies looked at each other.

"Well… when you want to tell us, we'll be here," Hannah encouraged.

I nodded; relieved for the moment I wasn't being pushed into talking. It was nice to not be pushed, and I should have realized what the 'support' part of support group meant.

.~.

That night I was writing some music down and thinking about my family. I still thought of them as my family, even with what they'd done.

Still I couldn't help but be bitter and angry about it. Abuse seemed to be my companion since my mum disappeared and I had thought I'd gotten used to it. The Cullen's had given me so much, but they hadn't been all I thought they were.

Sometimes I almost wished I'd never met them. And yet… I wouldn't have had them in my life at all if not for Alice's visions. They would have let me die in the hospital near Ashland, and never thought about me. It was harsh and foul, the twisted way I was wrapped up in their world and lives now. There was no debate that I was still angry at them for lying. But how could I let my anger stay simmering while knowing how loving they all were?

My lyrics were going nowhere so I put my work away and moved to sit by the small window at my little dining table. The rain was still lightly falling and I watched as a steady flow of water went down the gutters on the building next to mine.

There were so many worries in my head. My future, my life, my past, my family I worried about how I was going to figure it all out. I wanted, more than anything, to feel Kevin's lips on mine and to know, just simply know that I was being held in arms that wanted me for me.

I rested my head against the window pane and sighed. The fog of my breath made the view obscured for second, before the moisture and heat faded.

A knock on my door made me jump. I chuckled to myself about how I had nearly fallen out of my chair at the sudden interruption. I wrapped my hoodie tighter around me as I quickly made my way to the door. I almost forgot to check the peep hole, and when I did I involuntarily froze.

I debated whether or not to open the door, but it would have been more symbolic than anything, as I was certain she could break the door down if she was so inclined.

Unlocking the dead bolt I took in large breath of air, hoping it would help calm my already racing heart.

"Can I help you?" I asked indifferently as I opened the door.

The powerful scent of lilacs hit me, and there in the dim and grungy lighting, with her arms crossed over her chest and a familiar look of contempt on her face was Rose.

.~.

.~.

.~.

AN:

Well now, we are getting close to the end of the story here, I think only three more chapters till it's done.

What's that? Oh yeah I do plan on having a "sequel" to the story. I think I will keep it in the same story link so you don't have to go looking for it. That being said once the first "book" is done I will be going through the whole story and editing like crazy, making sure all the formats are the same and such.

Any guesses as to what's going to happen? Please leave a review, as these chapters are becoming hard for me to write (I think it's because I know the next arch is going to be super hard to write and I am rebelling against hunkering down and getting it done) so give me some support please!

Oh and Evangeline had finally been added to the (slash)Panthalassa

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