A/N: Those of you who recognize where some of the plot ideas originate from will definitely recognize this scene ;)
Usual disclaimer applies.
March, 2012
~28~
I hear footsteps approach the bottom of the staircase. Luckily, the stairs curve to the left so I am able to sneak behind the bathroom door without being seen.
Carlisle slowly moves up the stairs, his feet treading lightly, and enters his office.
My earlier convictions that Carlisle had been the one to force Renee to leave town have diminished ever so slightly in light of her photograph being in his office. Why would he want her to leave when they obviously still had a connection, still had some sort of communication or relationship?
The thought makes me sick.
But I am still sure enough in my theory of the origin of the photographs to ask him, to confront him.
I gather all of my bravery, my hurt, and my anger. I can feel the swirling emotions in my entire being, through every nerve ending. I am vibrating with it. I make my way slowly back to the office, and knock with confidence on his door.
I enter without permission, and Carlisle looks up from his desk, surprised.
"I have a question for you." I say, my voice hard as steel. "Does your head of security make it a habit of taking photographs of high school students and drawing bullseyes over their faces, or am I special?"
"Bella—"
"Emmett McCarty took pictures of me, surveillance pictures. He drew a target over my face and sent them to my mother. I want to know why."
By the end of this small speech, a tremor has entered my voice, my anger palpable.
"Bella, you're not making any sense—"
"Why?" I explode, "Why did you want my mother out of town?"
"I didn't—"
"Why didn't she tell my father about the pictures instead of hiding them in a safe deposit box?"
Throughout our conversation, Carlisle and I have been moving closer and closer to one another, and right now, we are almost nose to nose. His eyes are like tiny balls of black steel, his pupils dilated. Sweat coats his hairline and his hands are shaking.
Finally, he detonates. "I DON'T KNOW!"
I shake my head, whispering now. "I don't believe you."
I walk out of the room without looking back. I am exhausted, utterly drained. I feel like a child at Christmas who received unwanted presents. I was so excited to come here, to finally get some answers, and now I am left with only more questions.
I am sick of all the questions.
I enter the bathroom and splash my face with icy cold water in the hopes of bringing some life into it, into me. After collecting myself, I head back to the staircase.
I can hear voices.
Carlisle and Esme.
I slink down the stairs, hugging the wall, and can finally make out their words. I peek around the wall, my eyes taking in the scene. Esme is trying to pull free from Carlisle's tight grasp on her arm. He is leaning over her, but she is standing firm.
"What did you do?"
"Carlisle, I don't know what you're talking about."
"What did you do?" He repeats. I can hear the fury in his words, the rage.
He pulls her further along, away from where I am hiding, into the private dining room off the foyer. I can no longer hear them.
But it gives me my chance. To leave this house, to leave this party.
Still, as I wait a couple hundred yards away from the large security gate at the entrance to the Cullen Estate for Ben to pick me up, my conversation with Carlisle and my mother's picture swirl round and round in my head.
Never stopping, never fading.
