Isabella

Amy unconnected some of the wires but left in the IV. I held onto the pole with my left hand as the she started to push me down the hall in the wheelchair. I sunk deeper into the chair and people openly stared. There was nothing malicious about their looks but even the mere thought of having all this attention was making me uncomfortable.

We took a left at the corner and was lead to a big spacious room with hospital rooms on every side of the wall. I didn't realize how many other patients there were. Different nurses and doctors smiled at the two of us as we passed them.

I showed them forced smiles just to make them believe I was alright. The truth was that I was dying on the inside. I didn't want to be poked and prodded at anymore.

"Where are we going?" I mumble. We were taking turns left and right but didn't seem to be going anywhere of importance.

"I wanted to bring you someplace." Is all she says.

"Where?"

"I can't tell." Is all she says.

I grumble in response.

"Don't be that way. You don't even know where we are going."

The two of us enter the elevator and I sulk in silence. She presses the first floor and the door closes. The elevator music plays in the background while I stare at the chipped ceiling wondering how much longer it will take until this place completely falls apart.

The music suddenly stops and the metal doors slide open. We exit and take a left. My eyes furrowed in confusion.

Visitors, doctors and nurses pass us by without paying any attention and soon we are out of the crowd and in a quiet hallway. I'm pushed through a big set of doors and what I see makes my eyes widen and my stomach turn.

"Why are we at the morgue?" My voice trembles.

I cover my nose with my hand as the scent of the room fills my nostrils. I gag in disgust. The walls are lined with drawers with names on them, there's tables in the center of the room and cabinets to the side. The room looks made of metal. I realize with horror that there are people's bodies stored in here.

"I thought that you needed to see your father. You have all this pent up anger inside of you and you're letting your stubbornness and frustration get in the way of what's most important." She whispers as she crouches in front of me. "Trust me when I say, you'll regret not seeing him one last time later in life."

Was she saying that my father was in this room? Was she saying that I could see him?

I didn't want to think about this. I didn't want to think about him. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand anything.

And how did she even find out about my father? I never told her any of what happened.

"How do you know about my dad?" I whisper in anger.

"The day you were admitted to the hospital, I talked with Esme for a while." Amy confesses.

I don't know if I am angry or annoyed with that woman. She had no right telling people my personal business!

I didn't want to be here anymore. I want to leave.

"Get me out of here." I whisper, gripping onto the sides of the wheelchair. "I want to leave now!" My voice rises in distress. I attempt to rise from the chair but tumble to the ground. Tears are forming in my eyes and it's suddenly become harder to breathe. She places me back in the chair.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart is beating a mile a minute. I can't concentrate.

"Isabella, breathe." I hear. "Focus on my voice."

The voice of the woman sounds like an angel. I concentrate on what's she's saying and it feels like I can finally breathe again.

The surroundings come back into view and I see we are in a hallway now; out of that god awful room.

I let out a sigh of relief. Tears stains mark my cheeks and I shake in anger.

"Are you ok?" She asks concerned. "You had a panic attack."

I look at her incredulously. Did I look ok to her?

Who would look ok after being taken to a morgue? She was officially crazy I decided; and mentally unstable.

Who takes their patient to their patient to a room full of dead people? I know for a fact that Esme and Carlisle did not consent to this.

"Take me back to my room." I hiss. "Now!"

My jaw is clenched and more tears escape my eyes. She doesn't say anything else and neither do I. We go to my room in silence.

"Mrs- Mrs. Cullen." Amy stutters stopping short suddenly.

I look up, and sure enough Emse is standing in the room with her arms folded in front of her chest. I can't tell it she's angry or scared. Her face is a mixture of purple and red.

She lets out a visible sigh of me in the wheelchair but it soons turns to worry when she notices me red and puffy eyes.

"What happened, Isabella?"

She runs forward and bends down to my level. For once, I have no reply. I have no defense for the nurse. I have no energy to fight with her.

I open my mouth but only a sobs comes out. "Esme." I manage to gasp. She hugs me tight and I grip onto her. I find myself not wanting to let go; this feels nice for once.

"Let me help you back to bed." Amy awkwardly says standing beside us. I refuse to look at her and Esme stands up furiously.

"I don't know what you did or do I care to know at the moment. I think it's perfectly clear that you are not needed so I would appreciate it if you left the room." Esme says exasperated. "I am perfectly able to take care of her myself."

"But Ma'am-" She starts to argue.

"No, that is enough!" Esme shouts startling both of us.

Amy doesn't say anything else and quickly exits the room. I don't give her a second look.

"I'm sorry, Isabella. Let me help you back to bed." She softly says.

I'm wheeled back to the dingy helps me stand and I slump down across mattress getting comfortable. She fixes my blankets and sets a cup of water by my bedside. I use the remote to put myself in a sitting position.

"What happened?" She asks.

All I hear is love and concern in her voice. It confuses me.

"She took me to the morgue."

Esme gasps.

"I had a panic attack."

Esme squeezes my hand.

"Amy said that she wanted to show me my father." My voice starts to crack. "We left before I could see anything. But I can't get the smell out of my head."

"Oh god the smell." Tears stream down my face. I lean my head back against the pillows as I cry and cry and cry.

For some reason smelling death a second time made it worse. I smelt it the first time when I visited my mother but I wasn't this sad.

I was still processing everything.

Esme says nothing but let's me cry. I don't know how long we sit there but soon I fall asleep with her right by my side.

It's Saturday morning. Esme is asleep in the chair and the sun is streaming through the windows. Birds are chirping loudly and cars honk at each other from the street down below.

It wasn't raining for once.

I wanted to feel the warm sun on my face, I wanted to feel the grass inbetween my toes. I wanted to breathe in the fresh air instead of the smell of death.

Everybody is going on about their lives just like it's any other day. While I'm stuck in this fucking hospital room. I just want to go outside.

"Esme?" I softly say.

She's going to have a neck ache the way she's sleeping. She stirs in her rest.

"Esme?" I raise my voice.

She stirs in her sleep. Her brown hair is matted and it for once it doesn't look as if she's aged fifty years. Stress will do that to you. I can't possibly understand how it is to raise three, wait no, four teenagers.

Right now, Esme looks peaceful. She looks relaxed. I feel bad for all I have imposed on her, she tries so hard yet I fight back. Maybe I did need help.

"Esme?" I try again.

Finally, she awakens. The peaceful look that had once been upon her has melted away and she has once again aged fifty years.

"Good morning, dear." She softly says. Esme takes my calloused hand in hers and squeezes it gently.

"Did you stay all night?" I shyly ask.

She nods her head. I let out a sigh.

"I didn't mean to keep you from your family." I ramble. "You didn't have to stay with me. I'm sure your they missed you."

"My family can survive one night without me." She gives me an amused look. "And it was no trouble sleeping here. My main focus was making sure you were alright." Her voice fades. I look at our hands.

"Are you alright?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I will be."

What I wanted to do was get out of this place. It was full of death and sickness.

"When can I leave?" I ask tentatively.

"I talked to the doctor about that he said that if everything goes to plan, you can be discharged by Monday."

"Monday? And then I'll be back at your home?" My voice shakes.

"Yes. But you don't have to start school for a week or two, you can have time to settle back in…" Esme trails off as she sees she's losing my attention.

I swallow the lump in my throat, letting the information sink in. Was it really necessary to go back to school? I couldn't be homeschooled?

Since the jump didn't kill me, the hate from everyone at school just might.

"Will Edward be there?" I had to ask.

A hard expression happens upon her face at the sound of his name.

"Yes, my son will be at home but I promise you, he'll not bother you anymore. We made sure of that."

My eyebrows furrow. I don't want to know what they said. I don't want to know how he reacted.

"Thank you." I whisper. I squeeze her hand, she squeezes back.

The rest of the morning we talked. I don't know where Amy was but she didn't come back. I had cold soup for breakfast much to my dismay. My throat was irritated the doctor said and I guess it hadn't been the best idea to have the Chinese food or Chocolate.

My throat fucking killed.

I was now officially on a liquid and soft food diet the next months until I felt better. And this sucked, big time.

"Isabella…" Esme starts.

I look at her with furrowed eyebrows.

"If you don't mind me asking… what did Edward do to you at school?" her voice quivered. "Was he always so... so..."

"Mean?" I suggest.

She nods her head.

"I don't want to hurt you." I whisper. I truly didn't, she was too kind.

"Isabella." She says in a firm voice. My eyes meet hers. I see a fierce determination. "I need to know. I can handle it, trust me."

I bite my lip in frustration. Did I really want to tell her? The mother of the perpetrator? Her son had made my life hell. He made me want to die.

But I owed this to her. She deserved to know.

"Edward, wasn't always so bad. We could have been friends long ago, maybe more." I smile at the memories. "The first time I talked to Edward was at the end of year party at your house when we were fourteen years old. My father had forced me to go and I much rather would have spent the night at home, reading. As soon as I got there, Mike Newton started hitting on me. He was very drunk and was quite persistent if you ask me. He became very cruel after I denied his advances and spilt his drink on me. I was so upset and embarrassed and wanted to get out of there but Edward saw me.

"He scared Newton away and helped me. He took me to his room and gave me a change of clothes and sat with me for hours. We talked and talked, about stuff I can't remember now. Edward could have chosen any girl but he chose me. He made me feel special, he made me feel wanted; it was the first time that I felt I could really be myself. At the end of the night before I left, he kissed me. It was my first kiss, something I can never forget. Edward was nothing like how he acted at school; he was kind, gentle, funny. After that day, we continued to see each other for the next few months, it was best moments of my life."

Tears were rolling down my cheeks. It was hard to believe this was where were now. How could anyone go from the angel to the devil so quickly? This was always on my mind.

"What happened?" Esme incredulously asks.

"Edward and I went to a party together. It was freshmen year, we were officially dating. I wasn't used to all the attention I was receiving being with him but he really wanted to go to Lauren Mallory's party, so I agreed. Everything was going alright for the first couple of hours but it wasn't until he stepped away to get us drinks. He hadn't even been gone for a minute before Newton stepped in. We were both drunk but I was sober enough to know something wasn't right. He pulled me away from the party and brought me upstairs where he… he... raped me."

I had to swallow the lump in my throat. No one had heard the story before; no one.

"I tried to fight him off but was too weak. It felt like we had been there for hours and it didn't end until some couple stumbled into the room and saw us. Pretty soon after they spread around that that we had slept together and I was officially labeled the school's slut." I sneered.

"Michael Newton did this to you?" She says appalled. "And no one saw you two go upstairs? No one tried to stop him?

I nod my head, emotionless. "Either they didn't see us or they saw and didn't care."

"I tried to talk to Edward the next day but he never even gave me the chance to speak. He called me a lying, cheating, slut and broke up with me in the middle of the hallway. He claimed that I had ruined his life and promised he would do the same to mine." I whisper through the tears. "I had never seen him so cold. So cruel. Ever since then, he's held up on his promise, there's not a day that goes by that he doesn't have something to say or do to me…

"I just don't understand how he could change that fast. If he had just given me the time to explain…"

"Why didn't you tell anyone sweetie?"

I look at her like she's crazy. Is she serious?

"Who could I tell? No one would believe me, everyone already thought I was a slut. They would just brand me as an attention seeker. I didn't need anymore of they're abuse."

I brush my hair from my face and stare at Esme. She looked about ready to burst into tears. Maybe I had told her too much.

"Edward has always been a very sensitive kid." She says hesitantly.

I snort. Seriously, sensitive?

"He had a difficult childhood and tends to act out in anger when he is hurt. It's very hard for him to trust people and takes great offense when that trust is broken. I am in no way condoning his behaviors but I want you to know, that it goes deeper than you think. For Edward it's more than sleeping with some other guy." She pleads with me to understand.

Just because he has a fucked up childhood, doesn't mean he can fuck up somebody else's life.

"I won't tell you what he and his siblings went through because that is their information to disclose but I can tell you, that Edward is probably more angry with himself than you."

I listen to what she says. I don't want to believe it but something is telling me I should.

"You can always trust me. You can always trust Carlisle. Come to us with anything and we can help you, I promise that you are not alone."

"Thank you." I whisper.

Something feels different inside me. The feeling of dread is gone.

Has it been replaced by hope?