Bella
I was crying by the time Edward reached me. I felt so frustrated and angry. I couldn't believe that his father had humiliated me like that in front of everyone. I didn't want to go to breakfast in the first place, but Edward had forced me to go and for what? So they could both degrade me?
As soon as I had walked outside Mateo materialized out of thin air, blocking my path. I noted he didn't touch me this time, but he was standing in front of me, with his arms spread out, conveying that he wasn't going to let me pass. I knew if I pushed past him, he would likely touch me and after what happened yesterday, I didn't want his hands on me.
"Bella," Edward said, coming up behind me. I didn't turn to face him. I didn't want him to see me like this. I didn't want any of them to see me like this, but at the moment I had no control over the tears that were currently running down my face. I stood glaring at Mateo as Edward touched my shoulder, turning me around to face him. "Bella," he said again, softly. "You shouldn't let him get under your skin like that. You're only giving him the reaction he wants."
"I don't care," I said, pushing his hand away as he was still touching me. "I don't like him. I don't want to be here. I want to go home. I want to go back to the states."
"You know you can't do that," he stated, taking a step back and sliding his hands into his pockets.
I screamed, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. I wanted to throttle him. I wanted to hit him and keep on hitting him till he gave in and sent me home. "I want my things," I demanded. "You said after breakfast you would get them for me." He hadn't actually said that. He had said we would talk about it after breakfast, but I still wanted my belongings. I wanted my cell, my clothes and my purse. I needed them if I stood any chance of getting out of here. I didn't even have my own clothes to wear to breakfast. Edward had borrowed clothes for me to wear. I didn't even know who they belonged to.
"That's not what I said."
"I want my cell," I snapped.
"You don't need your cell," he stated.
"What do you mean I don't need my cell?" I shouted. "Of course, I need it. Give it to me."
"I didn't bring it with us. I didn't bring any of your stuff." He said this so calmly, as if he was discussing the weather. I couldn't believe it. He had drugged me, kidnapped me, brought me to another country, and he hadn't brought any of my things.
I saw red. I launched myself at him, pounding punch after punch into his chest, screaming at him. Telling him how much I hated him. The surprising part was he did nothing, he just stood there and took it all.