A/N:
Warning: there is a very important and super long (sorry) message at the end of the story. Please Read!
For those of you who are anxious for the story to move along, this is one of the last few chapters in this time of Bella's life. The second half of the story will take place several years in the future where circumstances for both Bella and Edward will be dramatically different.
Thank you so much to all of you who review! You don't know how wonderful it is to hear how much you like the story! It makes me want to write all the time! Who am I kidding? I want to write all the time anyway.
My other story, The Innocent Heart of Darkness is winding down towards its inevitable end. If you haven't already checked it out, will you give it a looksie?
Thank you so much to ms. ambrosia! She's the comma queen! Every time I think I've perfected my grammar, she's sure to find more mistakes. She's thorough and merciless in her corrections! And still, I adore her!
Disclaimer: SM owns. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.
Tragic Flaw
The roar of Charlie's police cruiser as he left for work on Thursday morning startled me awake from one of the most restless nights of sleep I'd ever suffered through. I just couldn't turn my mind off. I seemed to be collecting new worries every day.
Though I'd spent most of the evening avoiding thinking of it, the second my head hit the pillow, I began to fret over my altercation with Mike in the parking lot. I tossed and turned, coming up with several different though equally lame strategies on how to prevent running into him at school. These included hiding in the bathroom, eating lunch in my truck and even wearing a disguise.
I knew he was going to be extremely mad at me for driving off the way I did. Each time I closed my eyes, my mind would go back to him, imagining how he might react when he saw me, dreading how he might retaliate.
More and more I was beginning to realize that telling Charlie about the whole thing, both what happened at Laurent's party and what Seth had told me about Mike, was a good idea. This wasn't the first time in my life where I'd felt frightened or threatened by someone, but it was the first time when I actually had someone to tell, someone that might help.
I thought that Edward could be that person too – someone who was on my side, who would protect me. But for the first time, at the therapy session, I felt unsure. His words seemed to have a double meaning that was beyond my grasp. As I often felt with him, it was like he was trying to tell me something, a riddle that I needed to figure out on my own. And yet, this time I almost recoiled from solving it, knowing instinctively that I might not want to know what the answer was.
I had to admit that Edward frustrated me more than ever – putting me on the spot with all his vague questions. The second he turned his sultry gaze on me I was already a mess. When he'd asked me if I trusted him my mouth just dropped open in response. How was I to know what he meant? Was he testing me?
I wanted to trust him. But I wasn't sure if I was capable of it yet.
He was so open, his look so inviting. "Do you trust me, Bella?" he'd asked. And when I didn't answer, his eyebrows shot up, his forehead wrinkling.
"Um…I…" I stuttered, willing my lips to comply.
"It's okay," he said frowning, a hint of dejection in his tone.
He tore his eyes from mine, shifting toward Victoria. "How about you, Victoria? Do you feel like you can trust the group? Do you trust us…trust the process?" I was acutely aware that he changed the meaning of his question for her, depersonalizing it. I felt my stomach clench at this realization, wondering if anyone else noticed.
"Yes, Dr. Cullen, I trust the group. I mean, I wouldn't tell half the stuff I talk about in here to my friends even. They like, only know one side of me," she answered honestly.
"I'm glad you feel safe here, Victoria. I want you to feel safe," he explained. His eyes scanned everyone's faces, landing finally on mine. "I want everyone to feel safe here," he said meaningfully, looking into my eyes for a beat too long. As always, I was the one to pull my gaze away first.
"Trust is so important in all relationships, whether it's between you and your friends or your parents, or between you and your significant other."
"What's that mean?" James blurted.
"It means, James, that in order for you to have a strong and healthy relationship with anyone, like your dad, or even a girlfriend, you have to trust them. And you must be trustworthy yourself. Trust is the foundation of any strong relationship." James scoffed, as if the idea of trusting someone else was ridiculous.
"Do you have a problem with this idea?" Edward asked.
"Um, yeah," James answered as he wriggled around restlessly in his seat, sarcasm lacing his bitter words. "My dad's the last person in the world I would trust with anything. The only thing I can trust is that he'll be drunk every night and that he'll yell at me before he passes out on the couch."
"Yeah, I wouldn't trust my dad either. He'd rat me out to the cops to save his own skin," Laurent mumbled, pulling the drawstrings on his hoodie.
"What do you mean, Laurent?"
"When the cops came to our house the first time, my dad told them that the stash of pot they found was mine even though it was his," he said quietly, as if ashamed.
"What did you tell the police?" Edward asked Laurent whose expression was clearly conflicted. He looked like he was struggling to decide if he wanted to share this information or if he should keep it to himself.
"Um, is my dad gonna get in trouble if I tell you anything?" Laurent asked uncomfortably.
Edward's gaze again shifted to me before his eyes returned to Laurent as he answered. "It's my understanding that your father already faced jail time for possession. Is that right?" Laurent nodded uncertainly. "So he's paid his debt to society already."
"I guess," Laurent agreed.
"I've said this before to some of you, but I'll say it again. Everything we talk about in this room is confidential. It doesn't go beyond these walls – ever. These sessions are pointless if we can't trust each other, is that understood?" he asked and we each nodded in turn. The seriousness of his tone made me feel like a child being chastised.
"All of you are here because your parents have committed a crime and as far as the justice system is concerned, they have been punished for those crimes. However," he said, inhaling deeply, pausing. "If one of you admits to being a part of or knowing of something that is illegal or in any way constitutes criminal behavior, I am legally and ethically obligated to report it to the authorities." His eyes flit in my direction for an instant before he turned back to Laurent.
"Do you understand my meaning?" he asked him. "This is an open forum here, but you need to be clear that I have certain responsibilities." Laurent nodded, but we were all a taken aback, silenced by the impact of his words.
The timbre of the discussion changed a bit from that point on, Edward's warning dampening the mood and stifling our confessions. Laurent never related what had happened with his father, but I think we all knew what he'd done. His father blamed him to avoid prison and Laurent did the time in juvenile hall, never revealing the truth. Clearly, Laurent's sacrifice wasn't worth it; his father eventually ended up getting caught selling drugs anyway.
Regardless of how unrealistic it seemed, Edward tried to impress upon us that we needed to figure out how to develop a sense of trust for our parents. He maintained that there had to be at least a few things that we could depend on our parents for – food, shelter, and our basic needs. He claimed that we could start from there and then work on developing a deeper sense of trust. I really didn't understand how we were supposed to develop trust for people who were inherently untrustworthy, but Edward was so insistent, so sure that we could, that I believed him.
About fifteen minutes before the end of the session Edward had us pull out a piece of paper to write a list of things that we trusted our parents to do for us, as well as a list of the things we didn't. As I started to write my list, I realized how much I actually did already trust Charlie. My list was so much longer than it would have been for my mother. She had betrayed my trust in so many ways that it hurt to think about how little she'd ever considered my needs.
But when I thought of Charlie, my feelings were entirely different, even hopeful. Only a few minutes had passed and I had already written:
I trust Charlie to provide shelter
I trust Charlie to feed me
I trust Charlie to care for me when I'm sick
I trust Charlie to buy me clothes
I trust Charlie to…
I was thinking of the next item in the list when Edward pulled a chair up, turned it backward and sat down in front of me. I was momentarily distracted by his long legs straddling the chair, his elegant but masculine fingers wrapped around the top. He peered at my list, smiling. He pointed to the unfinished line, suggesting, "How about, 'I trust Charlie to protect me from harm'?"
"Okay," I agreed, scribbling the phrase down hastily, suspicious of the meaning behind his words. I glanced up from my paper to question him, but predictably, his look of intensity rendered me speechless. Before I could compose myself, he patted me on the hand like you'd pat a dog on the head. This benign gesture confused me even more than I was already.
I opened my mouth to confront him, but just as quickly lost the opportunity when the loud sound of a chair crashing to the floor abruptly drew our attention away from one another. Edward immediately and swiftly stood, making his way over to James who'd apparently been struggling to come up with items for his list, squirming so wildly in his seat that his chair fell sideways onto the concrete floor.
I finished my list alone, surprised both by how many ways I trusted Charlie and in how easy it was to come up with ways that I didn't yet trust him. It wasn't difficult to see that I had issues with trust when it was written down like this. It all seemed so obvious – so cut and dry, so black and white.
But it made me feel good to have a list to work from, like a roadmap to a better life. I felt, with time, I might be able to check off the items when they were completed, like a task list. Vacuum the carpets…check. Do the laundry...check. Trust that Charlie will still care about me when he knows everything…check.
As I drove to the school, I was still ticking through this list in my mind, weighing all the positives and negatives against each other, trying to derive some larger meaning out of it all. It kept my mind occupied, preventing me from dwelling on my anxiety at facing Mike again. I had pretty much avoided thinking of him until I pulled into the parking lot where we'd had our tense confrontation the day before. All the worries I'd been hiding from came back to me all at once in a rush of fear.
I panicked, my eyes scanning the lot for a friendly face. I caught sight of a swinging briefcase at the edge of a group of cars and darted out of the truck toward it. I was nearly running to catch up to him, but when I got close, I tried to stealthily sidle next to Seth's slight form as if I'd approached at a normal pace.
"A little anxious, are we? Or perhaps you're rushing for anticipatory reasons? Something exciting happening today? Something extra…ordinary?" Seth asked without turning his head toward me. I sighed heavily in response. "Are you expecting something to happen that is so outside of the realm of the normal, mundane existence of typical high school drudgery that your panties are in a bunch?" he asked, finally turning to face me.
"Ugh, Seth, it's too early for this. I need a Coke and a cup of coffee to keep up with you," I complained, scowling. "Doesn't your mind ever rest?" I focused on the click clack of his patent leather shoes as we neared the entrance to the school.
"Nope, nada, no way, not in this lifetime, that's a negative."
"Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hand as if to physically stop the words that continued to spill out of his mouth. I was so absorbed in trying not to listen to Seth that I didn't see Alice approaching until she was right in front of us.
She was wearing a black ribbon dress that looked suspiciously like a very expensive evening gown. On anyone else it would look entirely strange and inappropriate, but paired with a bulky, chartreuse wool scarf and her dangerous looking knee-high combat boots, it was quirky and endearing. Her eyes were heavily lined in black kohl, her face and lips painted almost geisha-like white. The only incongruous part of her costume was the huge smile on her face. Even though I thought she looked fantastic and I was incredibly happy to see her, I felt Seth stiffen next to me, his feet stopping.
"Alice!" I said, bounding forward, drawn to her. "I'm so glad you're back today!"
"I am too," she agreed easily, pulling me to her in a hug. I felt her warmth all through my body.
Seth grunted awkwardly next to me, his eyes darting from side to side as if he was looking for a rock to hide under. He pulled his briefcase up to his chest like a shield, and started fiddling nervously with the handle, his glasses slipping down his nose. He tried unsuccessfully to balance his briefcase with one hand while straightening his glasses, causing it to fall forward, hitting Alice squarely in the chest.
"Ufff," she grunted, pushing it back at him. "What's your problem?" she asked, clearly annoyed, rubbing her chest.
"Oh God, I'm sorry…oh, I can't believe I hit Alice Cullen. Oh Bella, I need to die, kill me now, assassinate me, pulverize me, stomp on me, obliterate me," he rambled nervously, his face blazing hot and red.
"It's okay, Seth," I said, placing my hand on his arm both to calm him and to snap him out of the word vomit.
"Alice, this is Seth. He obviously already knows who you are," I explained, hoping to shift the focus of the conversation. "He needs some art tutoring," I added. "And I didn't know if you'd be interested, but you're the best, well…really the only artist I know."
"Yeah, sure, I'd be happy to Seth," Alice said, thrusting her hand assertively out for Seth to shake. He reached out tentatively, either in fear or awe, and shook her hand.
"Thank you, I'm astounded or maybe I'm thrilled or does ecstatic sum up my feelings best?" Seth asked himself as he sauntered off down the hallway, leaving Alice and me alone.
We both giggled at him, his diatribe continuing even as he got far enough away that we could no longer hear his non-stop verbiage. I couldn't resist scanning the hall for Mike as Seth disappeared around the corner, but Alice, unaware of my purpose, stepped in front of me, blocking my view.
"I have great news," she announced. "Jasper's coming home for the weekend. And you're invited over for dinner on Friday night. Esme even said we could have a sleepover if we want. Do you think your dad will let you?" she asked hopefully.
"Don't you want to be alone with Jasper?" I asked, remembering how they looked when they held each other, when they stared into each other's eyes.
"Well, I do want to spend some time alone with him, but we have all weekend together. And I want to spend some time with you, too. So does Jasper. He likes you, Bella. Everyone in my family likes you!"
"I'll ask Charlie tonight," I promised, feeling a spark of excitement as I headed for my first class of the day. It was nice to have something to look forward to. Just the possibility of seeing Edward again outside of therapy made me anxious and jumpy with anticipation.
I slumped down in my seat, pulling out my notepad and pen, doodling curlicues and stars all over the margins of my paper, while practicing in my head how I was going to ask Charlie for permission to go to the Cullen's house again. The droning voice of my teacher only partially skimmed into my stream of thoughts.
I tended to get particularly frustrated by these kinds of tasks, the kind that should be simple and easy, but for me were not. Even though I was pretty confident that Charlie would be fine with the idea, I had to get over my own mental hurdle of asking him.
My eyes were mindlessly wandering as Mr. Maguire went on and on, my ears finally tuning into his lecture on Hamlet and what he kept referring to as his "tragic flaw." I couldn't help wondering if we all had something like this – a defining imperfection in our basic composition, maybe even in our DNA – that kept us from achieving our potential, from reaching true happiness. It might actually be a relief to know that it wasn't my fault for my general failure at life. Like Hamlet, my problems, my hardships, and my tragedies were simply inherent in my being.
I condensed these thoughts, scribbling them down into a few succinct lines on the top of my paper, thinking maybe they'd morph into some kind of coherent topic for the essay that was due on Monday. I was so absorbed in my writing that I didn't notice that Mr. Maguire had stopped his endless lecture until he said my name and I looked up.
I was instantly flooded with heat, both from embarrassment and from the shock of recognition. Edward stood at the door next to my teacher, his green, intense eyes focused on me. His look was grave and severe, not the tender but smoldering gaze I loved the most. When the initial shock wore off, the doubt settled in. Why was he here? What had I done? Something must be wrong…what could be wrong?
"Bella!" Mr. Maguire repeated and I was startled to my feet. I walked to the front of the room, vaguely aware of the way too interested stares of my classmates, their stifled mumblings bouncing off of me.
"Can I speak with you in the hall?" Edward bent toward me to whisper tersely in my ear and I took in a quick, sharp breath of air. I nodded, following his long stride out the doorway and around the corner. He sighed heavily, his jaw tensing, his left hand running through his hair in an almost frantic gesture.
"Look, Bella, I came hear to warn…tell you that your dad is here to take Mike Newton down to the station for questioning."
"What?" I blurted, my face hot with anger.
"It doesn't…doesn't really involve you, but I didn't want you to overreact or assume something that wasn't true."
"What do you mean? I don't understand," I admitted, feeling both irritated and foolish all at once.
"Victoria approached me last night before our session and told me that she'd overheard Mike Newton bragging to someone else that he'd drugged you at Laurent's party. She agreed to tell your father about it without implicating you in any way."
"Wait! What do you mean?" I said, grabbing onto his forearm, startling both him and me. I dropped my hand instantly before I could see the rejection in his eyes or that he'd been repulsed by my touch. I stepped awkwardly backwards, crashing into the locker behind me. I was inappropriately embarrassed; I almost felt like I'd been caught trying to kiss him.
"Charlie is going to freak out," I exclaimed, and found myself mimicking his pose, my hand grabbing at the hair near my scalp.
"Bella, please don't worry about that. He doesn't know about your involvement. Victoria told him that Mike tried to get her to eat a cookie and that he was pushing them on other girls at the party. That's all. It's enough information to take him in for questioning at least," he stated, clearly exasperated by the situation.
"Victoria said that?" I asked him. I knew it was a lie and I desperately wanted to talk with Victoria before I said anything to anyone, including Edward.
"Yes, but…" he wavered.
"But what?"
"Honestly Bella, I wish we had more on Mike Newton. There just isn't much evidence against him. I mean, he drugged you for chrissakes! Unless they find a large quantity of drugs on him, there's not much the police can do. And since there was no…assault…" His face twisted into a sour grimace. "I'm just afraid that all this was meaningless," he said, defeated, gesturing wildly.
"Maybe Charlie will scare him enough that he won't do it again?" I offered, feeling the need to try and lift Edward's spirits. He seemed to take this all so personally and I couldn't stand to see him so low.
"I wish I could protect you from him," he said so quietly that I almost didn't believe he said the words at all. The look in his eyes was fierce though, as if he'd kill for me. I was overwhelmed and looked away, almost frightened by the passionate but confusing emotions I sensed from him.
I was still looking at my hands when the bell rang, jolting us out of our little bubble of conversation. Edward's posture changed immediately when students began to amble out of the classrooms and into the hall. He stiffened, tugging on the lapels of his jacket, his face an impassive mask. He almost looked like a teacher or a parent – older – and I was crushed by this realization. He was so out of my reach.
"Goodbye Bella," he said as he turned. I watched his tall form retreat as he walked to the exit at the end of the hall.
Thankfully, Mike Newton didn't return to school on Thursday or Friday. And by Friday afternoon I finally stopped scanning the hallways anxiously and allowed myself to relax a little.
Just as I'd predicted, Charlie was more than thrilled that I'd been invited to the Cullen's again. I'd fretted about asking him until the last possible moment – right before he left for work on Friday morning. Charlie ignored my nervousness and my jumbled, but practiced plea, smiling and clapping his hand on my shoulder, readily agreeing. In fact he seemed more than accommodating, suggesting that I stay as long as I wanted on Saturday so that he could get a little fishing done.
I ran up to my room to pack an overnight bag. But first I added a few lines on my Trust List as I had taken to calling it.
6. I trust Charlie to allow me to have friends.
7. I trust Charlie to always want me to come back home.
I had all my clothes and toiletries packed, but hesitated at the top of the stairway. I turned and ran back into my room, grabbing my pink blanket, my old paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice, and Bubba and crammed them into my bag. I experienced a familiar, hollow pang of anxiety as I stood to go and realized with some consternation, that it was the feeling I always got when packing. My subconscious remembered this process – packing, leaving, evading – it had been the core of my existence for so long.
I left my overnight bag in the cab of my truck on Friday morning. Alice's dad had dropped her off in the morning on the way to the hospital so she was riding home with me. Even though my truck was a big, loud monster, I was excited to drive Alice home. When she hopped up into the cab after school she was equally excited – but not for the same reasons.
Jasper was supposed to arrive at her parent's house just before we got there and Alice could hardly contain herself on the drive home. She kept pushing me to go faster, no matter how many times I told her that my foot was flat to the floor and the truck was hitting its maximum speed.
Sure enough, when we finally drove out of the path of trees, revealing the beautiful and elegant house on the hill, Jasper was standing out in front waiting for us to arrive. He was leaning against his motorcycle, one long jean-clad leg stretched out in front of him. His head was tilted to the side, his smile cocky but genuine. Alice sprang out of the cab of my truck toward him, his sexy grin widening as he caught her in his arms.
They didn't kiss, but just held each other tightly as if simply absorbing every part of each other. I climbed down from the truck, slugging our bags along with me. It wasn't until I'd stumbled near the couple that they tore themselves from each other long enough to bind their lips together. I tried to adjust the bags while I waited for them to finish, slinging my bag over one shoulder and Alice's backpack over the other when Jasper finally pulled back for a breath and caught my eye, winking.
"Bella boo, how's it goin'?" he asked casually. Of course I blushed. With the amount of raw sex appeal he emitted, it couldn't be prevented.
"Um, I'm good," I replied, looking away.
"Let me take that," he said, grabbing Alice's bag in one hand and mine in the other. I tried to protest, but he simply shrugged me off, beginning to climb the stairway up to the house. Before we'd made it to the entryway, the door swung open to reveal a beaming Esme.
"Bella!" she said warmly, reaching out to embrace me.
"It's nice to know she's at least happy to see you," Alice teased.
"Oh Alice, you know I love you. I'm just so happy to see Bella again," she replied, releasing me and pulling both Alice and Jasper in for a hug.
"And I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here, Jasper, and in one piece, I might add. I'm not sure if we could deal with much more of all this mooning and pining for you. Will you take Alice with you when you leave?" she asked with a devilish smirk on her face.
"Oh Esme, I know you couldn't live without her," he replied good-naturedly as Esme turned and led us into the house.
Jasper peeled off to Alice's bedroom to drop off our bags. Alice and I followed Esme into the kitchen as she began to pull jars out of the pantry and place them on the counter. Alice sat down on a barstool on the other side of the counter and I sat down next to her.
"You guys got here so early today. No one else is home yet. Dinner won't be for a while. It's such a rare, gorgeous day outside, why don't you go for a short hike or something?" Esme suggested.
"That's a great idea," Jasper agreed as he walked into the room. He came to stand between the stools, draping an arm around both our shoulders. "What do you girls think?" he asked, arching his eyebrows suggestively. I couldn't help giggling at his look, covering my mouth with my hand to stifle the sound.
"Ooh, I've got a great idea," said Alice, stepping around Jasper to grab my hand. "We'll be back in a little while, Mom," Alice yelled over her shoulder as she pulled me from the room and into the hallway. She opened a narrow doorway that I hadn't noticed before, flipping on the light switch and revealing a long stairway.
"What's this?" I asked, peering down.
"The garage," she answered excitedly, beginning to descend. I followed behind her, with Jasper clomping down behind me. When we got to the bottom she flipped on another switch, illuminating the huge four car garage. There was a black BMW parking on one side of the garage which I assumed belonged to Esme. But the rest of the space was taken up with storage and various other types of vehicles.
I first noticed a small, beautiful wooden motorboat on a trailer parked near the back, and a few jet skis leaning against the side wall. A bright orange snowmobile sat next to a rack with life vests, inflatable inner tubes, skis and poles, water skis, fishing poles, and camping gear.
"Wow!" I exclaimed. "You guys have everything." I spun in a circle, taking on all the other things tucked neatly away on the custom shelving: games, sporting equipment, tools, and old appliances. There was even a long shelf full of homemade jams in hues of reds and purples that caught my eye.
"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Alice said, tugging on a heavy blue tarp until it slipped off of a motorcycle parked on the other end of the garage. "This is why we're here. We're going to teach you," she said mischievously, with a Cheshire cat smile.
"Wh-what?" I stuttered as Jasper reached out to help Alice remove the tarp.
"That's a great idea, Alice. Bella can handle the Thunderbird," he said, squinting his eyes at me in a scrutinizing way, as if measuring my mettle. "It's either that or a tattoo. What you think, Bella, want a phoenix rising on your shoulder here?" Jasper said, circling, until he was behind me, placing his hand lightly on my left shoulder blade.
"You guys aren't serious," I stated uncertainly, hoping I was right.
"Nah, not about the tattoo anyway," Jasper replied, flashing his white teeth at me so that adorable dimples appeared in his cheeks.
"Stop teasing her, Jasper," Alice chided, hitting him on the arm. "But really, Bella, the Thunderbird is easy to drive…really stable…don't you want to try?" she asked, batting her lashes at me. "I'll show you first."
"Um, I don't know," I said hesitantly. "This motorcycle looks really fancy. What if I break it?"
"You won't break it, Bella. This here is a sturdy bike. She's a 1950 Triumph Thunderbird. She was the one my dad bought for me." I stepped forward to touch the shiny frame of the bike, the unique turquoise paint flawless and vibrant. "We restored her together. My dad was…hard on me. He wouldn't give her to me until I knew her inside and out. I could take her apart and put her back together now with my eyes closed," he said, reaching out to squeeze the handlebars affectionately.
"Come on," he said, pushing the bike forward off its kick stand. "Alice hit the garage door," he instructed. She pushed a button on the wall and one of the big garage doors began to rise. Jasper began to push the motorcycle down the driveway and along a narrow dirt road that ran into the forest, disappearing into the trees.
"Bella, come," Alice said, pulling on my arm. I was gaping after Jasper, nervous and feeling pressured.
"I don't know, Alice. I don't think…"
"I'll go first. You'll see. You don't have to go fast or anything. It's easy," she reassured, tugging more insistently on my arm. I finally shuffled forward, my feet stirring up little pillows of dust behind me.
I looked down the shadowed dirt road, but could see no sign of Jasper or the bike. I was just turning to ask Alice where he'd gone when I heard an extremely loud engine roar to life and Jasper flew by us in a blur of turquoise. He howled like a like a cowboy as he passed, swirling dirt shooting like a comet behind the motorcycle's back wheel.
He circled back and came to an abrupt stop directly in front of us. "Get on sweetheart," Jasper said as he gracefully jumped off of the bike. He offered Alice his hand, helping to pull her small body over the motorcycle and to situate her on the leather seat. He kissed her quickly on the lips before releasing her hand. "Just watch her, Bella," he said, stepping back toward me. I watched as Alice placed her feet on little footpegs on the side of the motorcycle, her hands tightly gripping the handlebars.
I was trying to watch all her movements carefully, but before I was ready for her to go, she lurched forward and sped off. Though she was definitely going much slower than Jasper, she still disappeared from sight fairly quickly. I could hear the sound of the engine echoing through the trees as it faded in the distance and then more loudly as she reappeared.
She was smiling hugely as she slid off of the bike, Jasper springing forward to steady it for her. "Your turn, Bella," she trilled happily over the sound of the engine before Jasper shut it down.
"Okay, Bella come sit on the bike," Jasper said, urging me toward him. I felt my stomach sink and my breath sucked from my lungs. I stumbled forward cautiously, inhaling deeply as I placed my hand in Jasper's. He showed me how to position myself against the tank to find my balance on my left leg before swinging my right up over the bike to mount it. I listened to his instructions carefully, and was surprised how easily I hoisted myself onto the seat.
When I was sitting on the bike, with Jasper's hands still on the handlebars, he walked me through all the controls. I tried to follow along, but I was nervous and confused by all the unfamiliar jargon. He kept talking about the chassis, which sounded like some kind of horse-riding term to me, and the throttle, which was equally unfamiliar. He seemed so confident that I could learn though, that I tried my hardest to memorize what he'd taught me.
I repeated it all over and over in my head before I dared try to move. Throttle and front brake in right hand, clutch lever in left hand, rear brake with right foot, shift lever with left foot …
When I finally nodded, Jasper kick-started the engine for me while still holding the handlebars. "Ready?" he asked excitedly, looking me square in the eye.
"Yes," I replied, taking a deep breath. My hands were already sweaty when I carefully twisted the throttle and felt the motorcycle jolt to life beneath me. Adrenaline surged through my veins, as I powered forward down the dirt road, trees streaming by. I went farther than I thought I would, enjoying the sensation of the wind against my face, the vibration between my legs. Remembering what Jasper had taught me, I slowed down, turned and returned down the road to where they were waiting for me.
I was exhilarated by the feeling of power, the large machine beneath me entirely under my control, moving effortlessly with each slight movement of my hands. I wasn't doing a great job shifting, but I'd easily picked up how to accelerate and to slow down. I was feeling euphoric as I got closer to where Alice and Jasper were waiting. I saw them in the distance and began to slow down even more when another figure appeared next to Jasper, tall with broad shoulders and a messy head of bronze-colored hair.
I lost focus for an instant, Edward's presence unsettling me. I twisted the throttle too quickly, revving the engine, causing the front wheel to lift from the ground. I panicked, yanking hard on the brake. They locked and the motorcycle began to skid. I tried to regain control the bike's movement, but it continued to fly off toward the trees, slipping more and more sideways until I worried that I could no longer hold on.
My thoughts were shockingly clear in that last moment when I had to decide if it was better to fly off of the motorcycle or be crushed underneath it. Yet, I knew I didn't have a choice. I had to let go; my fingers just weren't strong enough. I tensed all my muscles in preparation for impact with the ground.
I released my hands, feeling the motorcycle being ripped away. Rather than flying through the air, I had the sensation I was falling and slammed my eyes closed. The chaotic sound of metal crashing and crumbling around me shattered the stillness of the moment. I have a particularly acute memory of the scent of pine and the earthy aroma of the forest surrounding me before I felt a searing pain on the left side of my body.
The last thing that I remember was a horrible crunching sound followed by a bloodcurdling scream that I will never forget. It pierced through my skin, ringing in my throbbing head before I was ultimately engulfed in silence.
End Notes:
Though I've explained my vision for this story to many of you who have reviewed and PM'd me, I know that there are many of you who are still wary about the age difference of the characters in this story.
I even had a reader tell me that she was no longer going to read, because the idea of a man preying on a young girl in this way bothered her too much. I hope that there are not others out there who feel this way. I should be clear, that there will be no love affair between these two until Bella is older.
Though there are many awkward and tortured feelings that exist between the two, Edward is an upstanding guy – a gentleman – who would never use his position of authority to manipulate Bella.
I've envisioned this story in two distinct parts, the current time period will tie up soon (within the next few chapters,) and then we will jump to several years in the future.
I think that one of the most interesting themes of the Twilight story is the idea of a love that transcends all obstacles, no matter how difficult they seem to overcome. In this story, age and experience are the main obstacles. The timing is all wrong. Despite this, Bella and Edward still feel and experience a deep love for each other. The torture, the passion all comes from the fact that they can't act on it. They will have to wait.
I think you guys will find that it's worth it! So please stick with me. And know that I will do my best to treat this subject matter with as much delicacy as I can.
Thanks guys! I really love this story and these characters!
Please please review! And tell me you'll stay on this journey with me!