Bring On The Wonder Chapter 36: Isabella Marie, a twilight fanfic

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own No-Longer-Quite-So-Determined-To-Be-Priestward (Copyright for the name goes to one of my faithful readers and tweetbuddy Wythanie) and PottymouthBella. (She does need a new #monicker too *hint*… ;)

All plotlines, characterizations, and details in Bring On The Wonder belong to the author: Bronzehyperion. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without the author's authorization.

This story is rated M for a reason. Violence, swearing, religion being made fun of and criticized. And lemons at the right time.

This story leans heavily on my BETA Parama. She doesn't just make sure my grammar is bearable, she also helps me put my thoughts into order, has great suggestions and is always supportive even when giving constructive criticism. She's my BETA and my friend!

CHAPTER 34: ISABELLA MARIE

When I was five years old my dad came home one day with a white carton box. Even as a small kid I'd recognized that box immediately. It belonged to the diner my dad went for lunch most days.

Actually, I think he often ate dinner there as well because as the town sheriff he had to work late most nights. Although that probably was an excuse because Forks was too small to have an actual crime rate and my dad didn't use work as an excuse to go around fucking other women.

I think he was just avoiding having to be come home because my mom was usually acting like such a bitch to him. And he probably didn't get to fuck her either.

You'd think that I, as his cute as a button daughter, would be a good enough a reason to be home more often. I mean, every kid's got cuteness right? You can't hate or judge a kid for not being cute, so every kid automatically ranks on the Cuteness Meter until they hit puberty and kill their ranking by giving too much lip.

But to my dad I was just a mouth to feed. He didn't hate me, he "nothinged" me, which was worse. At least hate would have been a genuine emotion. A sense of fucked up worthiness.

Anyway, back to the box. Sitting at the kitchen table, I'd been doodling in one of my coloring books when all of a sudden my father had walked in with that box in his hand and a grin on his face. That certainly hadn't happened often. The smiling I meant.

Again, it was late afternoon and he never came home during the day; I usually wouldn't hear him get in until I was in bed and that too because my mom's favorite greeting wasn't a kiss on the cheek or whatever but the accusatory "You're late" followed by "I'm going to bed."

They had such a loving marriage.

But that day had been different. Not only had he come home at a reasonable hour, he'd also been… nice to me. Acting like a dad even.

"Hey Bells," he had greeted me, ruffling my hair as he placed the box on the table.

"Hi Daddy," I had greeted him with a smile. Back then I'd still looked up to my dad. Fuck, I'd been an innocent kid and daddies were supposed to be heroes in their kids' eyes, right?

I knew better now.

"What's in the box?" I'd asked, curious as I was as a five year old.

My dad had kneeled next to the chair, leaning in close so his mustache had tickled my ear. He'd made it seem to me that we were going to share a secret. And what kid doesn't like secrets...

"Today is a special day, Bells," he'd said, his face serious but there'd been a strange twinkle in his eyes. "Today you turn six. You're getting big, kiddo."

I remembered how he had held up his giant hands. One with all his fingers spread wide and the other with his thumb up. I'd counted his fingers and giggled.

I was six. It was my birthday. And I hadn't even known. That had to be all kinds of fucked up.

I mean, parents were supposed to make a fucking big deal out of their kids' birthdays, right? Cake and presents and all that.

Mine never did. Well except for that one time. And I'd been too innocent to know what the appropriate etiquette was for anticipating and celebrating birthdays so I'd taken whatever my dad said as gospel. How was I supposed to know better, when they'd never made much of an effort before.

"I turn six?" I'd asked. "It's my…"

"…your birthday."

"Wow. So what's in the box?"

My father had laughed at my curiosity. "Your favorite pie; berry cobbler."

Whenever we ate at the diner as a family or just my dad and I, he'd always gotten me berry cobbler for dessert. I'd tried apple and chocolate but berry had become my favorite.

Looking back now, it still shocked me he'd remembered that.

"Is it for me?" I'd asked, clapping my hands together eagerly.

My father had nodded with a small smile on his face. "Sure is."

"Can I see?"

He had shown me and at the time, looking at the perfect brown crust and the filling of beautiful, ripe, red berries… and that sweet smell; I'd been so happy.

"Can I have a piece?"

"After dinner," my father had grinned. "You'll get a big piece," he'd gestured by widening his hands before putting the box away in the fridge.

Okay, so maybe my dad hadn't always been an asshole. He was certainly not as bad as my mom who had never let a chance go by to remind me how much she hated me for being born.

And that day, my fucking sixth birthday, one I hadn't even known about until my dad had told me and shown me the cobbler, she had been no different.

She hadn't bothered to be a real mom and celebrate her daughter's birthday. She hadn't mentioned the "joyious" occasion to my teachers at kindergarten either, so there had been no standing on a chair with a colorful paper hat while the kids in class sung Happy Birthday for me.

No gifts, no hugs. Fucking nothing because she couldn't be bothered that day. Or any day.

After my father had done the "pie in the box" thing to score what little "dad-points" I could credit him now, he'd noticed I'd been in the kitchen alone. Calling out to my mom had soon proved to be fruitless because she hadn't been home.

How sad that a five – correction six - year old kid knew how to get inside the house and occupy herself without getting into trouble.

"Where's your mom?"

I'd shrugged. I was freaking six; how the fuck would I have known? I wasn't her keeper and if their union hadn't been so fucked up, he might have known for himself where she'd been.

"Pam took me home."

Pam was our neighbor – well technically she'd lived across the street, with two kids at Forks Elementary school. Because the kindergarten was in the same building, she'd volunteer to take me home whenever my mom couldn't.

Which wasn't as often as you might think. My mom had always liked to put up some kind of a front, pretend to be a decent mom for the sake of appearance or whatever. Not that she tried too hard by hugging or kissing me or any of that stuff – god forbid she'd have to show affection, but she'd managed to take me and pick me up from school most of the time. Although the older I became, the less she had made the effort.

"And your mom wasn't here?"

I'd shaken my head.

Now, you'd think I remembered that day because despite the lack of celebration it had still been my birthday. Or because that one day my dad had almost been a good dad by bringing home berry cobbler because he'd tried to make my birthday a little more special.

But no. That's not why I remembered the day so vividly.

I remembered that day as the day I'd been granted a small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe my dad would finally start acting like a loving parent should, only to have it yanked away from me again, leaving me with another disillusion. My dad drank too much that night – he didn't do that often; at least not at home - and forgot to make me dinner. And then later on my mom had come home only to get pissed at my dad for drinking too much and screaming how much she hated her fucking life and the people in it.

Meaning him.

Meaning me.

I remembered that day because I'd been a little girl who just wanted some berry cobbler but never got to have any because my mom felt there was nothing to celebrate and had thrown the "damn thing" out.

My dad hadn't stopped her.

And I never ate berry cobbler again.

When your parents treat you like shit and leave you susceptible to horrible things, you either want to say "fuck them" and do better or you do as I did and start fucking others.

It was by no means an excuse, I mean, I was sure I could have done something different instead of coming up with the brilliant idea to go and sell my body on the streets to make ends meet.

But I didn't. I consciously chose to go to Seattle and instead of working at a freaking MacDonald's for some minimal wage or whatever, I gave blowjobs for a twenty dollar bill.

Thank fuck Edward saved me. I didn't know how or what I did but maybe the big guy up there in the sky or perhaps freaking karma didn't hate or turn on me completely because meeting Edward had been a game changer; a life saver.

A blessing.

Edward… he looked so peaceful when he slept, although it couldn't be comfortable to sleep on that sofa for days in a row.

I sighed. I had to get my ass back to my apartment soon, so Edward could have his bed back. Tomorrow was Wednesday; I'd been here since Sunday and I was feeling better so it was definitely time to get back to my normal routine.

I didn't remember too much of what had gone down in the last few days, I was just happy I felt human again. But feeling better also meant I had to give Edward his own life and normal routine back. The guy had been stuck in here taking care of me for days and I was sure he had other things to do.

Like go to school or do some church thing.

He definitely hadn't done that in a while. Or maybe he didn't tell me if and when he did. Then again, he'd never been hugely forthcoming about any of that stuff before, probably because he knew it made me feel uncomfortable.

He just didn't realize how uncomfortable.

I stared at the Tylenol in my hand, put it in my mouth and washed it down with some water. At night the pain in my ear intensified but it was nowhere near as bad as a few days ago. Still, I needed some pain relief to be able to get some more sleep.

I looked at Edward again and repressed the yearning to reach out and touch him to brush that bronze lock of hair on his forehead away.

He really was gorgeous. And so sweet; genuine.

Innocent.

And mostly – shockingly – mine.

My boyfriend.

I hadn't been lying earlier when I told him I didn't remember much about the last three days or so but some things were less fuzzy than I'd led on.

See, what I did sort of remember but hadn't dared to bring up just yet because I was a fucking coward, was that apparently I'd agreed to talk to him about my past.

All thanks to the debacle with Busty Nurse and her spilling the beans on someone's private medical file with an utter lack of professionalism.

Still, pain in the ass and hazardous to people's health as she might be, it was not her fault that my past was so fucked up that it required multiple identities.

I knew I had to tell Edward about Isabella Marie Volturi – amongst other things - I just didn't know how.

I mean, where do you start when your life is like a Lifetime Movie minus the PG rating and the happy reunion in the end?

Where do you begin when your past is so many shades of fucked up?

Edward stirred a little before he went back to breathing deeply.

I reached out and fixed that stray lock of hair on his forehead. It was soft and his breath tickled my fingers.

I sighed.

I could only hope that by tomorrow, he would still be mine.

I was bored. And feeling bored gave me too much time to think.

Edward was still at school and wouldn't be home for a while and I was getting tired of napping – pun intended.

My body was still a bit weak because it had taken a beating with the ear infection and the fever but I did feel alright overall. It wasn't like I was ready to run a marathon but my energy level was increasing and I needed an outlet.

I contemplated calling Maggie to let her know I'd be back to work the next day but then I figured I probably should give myself a few days extra to recover and go back on Monday instead.

I hoped Edward was right and that Maggie was really cool about the whole being sick thing because financially I couldn't afford to lose this job, plus during the one week I'd been at the bakery I had actually really loved it, so it was more than money keeping me there.

Hoping to kill some time and distract myself from letting my mind wander too much, I cleaned the place up a bit; I changed the sheets on Edward's bed because those germ infested linens needed to be washed, I also straightened up the living room and even vacuumed.

Around lunchtime I made myself some tea and cut up some fruit to add to a bowl of yoghurt. It wasn't weird to walk around Edward's apartment like I lived here, quite the opposite actually. I'd only been here for a few days but it felt safe and familiar.

Homely.

Don't get me wrong, I definitely believed I was overstaying my welcome a little by forcing Edward to sleep on the sofa every night - because he was a gentleman - but then the alternative of sleeping in his bed together was probably too much too soon and could end up being a lot less gentleman-ish.

Bottom-line; I liked staying here and there was a small pang of sadness when I thought of having to go back to my own dump.

I missed Angela though and it would be nice to catch up with her. Plus, life went on and I could still see Edward aplenty.

As I was eating, my phone buzzed; it was a text message from Edward, thanking me for the sandwich I had made him.

It was pretty domestic; me packing lunch for Edward. But fuck, dealing with food was something I was good at and the only concrete thing I had to offer him. Plus, it made me happy knowing Edward was happy, as sappy as that may be.

After lunch I crashed. I was suddenly exhausted and longed for a nap.

But of course now that I wanted to sleep I was too consumed with thoughts to shut off my brain.

I thought of Edward and how I had to talk to him, tell him about…

Isabella Marie… Volturi. And then some.

It was going to be one of the hardest things I'd ever do but I had to try and confide in Edward, even if that terrified me.

It was harder now because there was more to lose.

Before it was just me trying to fight against having to relive those memories. Battling nightmares and trying to keep panic at bay whenever something reminded me of my sordid past. I didn't want to talk about what had happened to me because it hurt to even think about it much less actually tell someone the detailed stories.

But now, I didn't just risk my own sanity but also - and most of all – I risked losing Edward and for some reason that was worse than anything else.

I could handle the pain, or crumbling underneath the weight of memories. Over the years I'd managed to battle the feeling of despair whenever it'd tried to bring me down. I could do that again.

I'd started doing that as a little girl. I loved staring at the clouds because they looked soft and friendly. They changed shape and with a little imagination you could make them into anything. For a small kid that was quite empowering.

Shaping the clouds has been my favorite pastime when I was little. I had often hid in our backyard, which had a path leading straight into the woods. If I hid in the bushes, my mom wouldn't see me and bitch me out for getting my clothes dirty or whatever, but there was still enough overview to see the clouds.

I could see the clouds from my bedroom window as well but the view wasn't as good.

When things got really bad between my parents and if the yelling got to be too much, I'd get lost in looking at the clouds and daydreaming about a life I'd never have.

My wish had been quite simple. I just wanted someone to love me. I wanted someone to tell me I was worthy.

Edward had showed me I was worthy. He cared about me.

My parents never did and the older I got the more evident it became that my parents – my mother especially – hated the fact I was around.

Now as a six year old I'd been innocent and tried hard to be sweet. Or maybe sweet had simply equaled trying to be invisible because that would give my mom less incentive to get mad at me.

But by the time I was twelve, I'd become an almost teenager who knew all too well about her mom's dubious "away from home" activities. Not to mention a father who was too wrapped up in "anything but home" to care that his wife was probably cheating on him.

And I could have kicked and screamed like a regular, coming-of-age teen to get some attention. But in the twelve years I'd been around these two, I'd learned to become invisible and live in my own world.

After a while, when the real world is shitty, you learn to adapt to your surroundings. Kids at school teased me, so I tried to avoid them as much as I could. My parents didn't want me, so I tried to make sure I was never in the way.

Looking back, I guess the fact my parents never loved me was damaging enough to make me a little screwed up in life, to push me toward making a few bad decisions.

And if that had been all, it wouldn't have been so bad to tell Edward. He already knew about the whoring myself out and that was one of the low points in my life; one of my worst decisions.

But in spite of that, he still wanted me to be his girlfriend.

He accepted me for what I was.

I could only hope that wouldn't change once he knew everything; the whole truth about me.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

I looked up at the clock wondering if it could be Edward but I knew he would probably use a key.

I wasn't scared or anything but it was kind of weird to open the door at an apartment that wasn't yours.

I opened it hesitantly and felt some relief when it turned out to be Esme Cullen.

But then relief turned to awkwardness when I realized she was my boyfriend's mother; a role that always came with extra scrutiny.

Thank fuck I had decided to lose the sweats and change into a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans earlier. I probably still looked like crap but this was better than her catching me in my most recent attire; her son's clothes.

But then… I was wearing one of his hoodies…

"Bella, dear… look at you," Esme said as she pulled me into a hug. "Are you feeling better?"

I definitely preferred to be hugged by her son, but this wasn't as bad as I usually found hugs or any kind of touches.

"Esme, hi," I said as she pulled away and walked farther inside the apartment while I closed the door behind her. "Yes, I do feel better. Thank you for the soup; it was delicious."

"Edward used to love chicken and stars soup. He would make his classic pouty face" - she showed me – "to get extra stars."

I smiled at that because the face she made was classic Edward.

Who would've fucking guessed I would one day love kissing those pouty lips.

Not me. But I did. I really loved it. His lips were full and moist and he did that little thing where he'd take my top in between his and…

Focus Bella…

"I brought some ziti," Esme announced. "Leftovers from last night."

"Emmett didn't eat at all?" I said in mock horror.

Esme chuckled. "He had two servings but I made extra," she winked. "I wanted you and Edward to have a taste as well."

She included my name like it meant nothing, like I was a part of her family. Maybe she'd be alight with gaining another daughter in law.

"Let's have it," I said with a smile. "I can't wait to have a taste."

Esme's ziti was good. While I ate she talked about this party happening in a few weeks and she seemed to assume I would be accompanying Edward. It was a charity type thing at the hospital where Doctor Deacon worked and the dress code was black tie.

Esme insisted we go shopping; Rosalie would come too because she'd needed a dress as well. Apparently she and Emmett had agreed she'd be home after the weekend.

I didn't say anything but I could tell Esme seemed relieved by the fact her son's marriage was salvaged, even if she chatted on in high spirits pretending that mentioning it was no big deal.

When Edward came home I could tell he was a little surprised to see his mom there, chatting with me.

She told him to convince me to go shopping for a dress for the charity ball and after she left Edward asked me if I even wanted to go. I agreed to be his date if he would take me on a real date – just me and him – before the black tie event would take place.

I offered to heat up some of his mother's ziti for him but Edward looked distracted and even a little discouraged. When I walked over to hug him he welcomed me into his arms and buried his nose in the crook my neck. I was hoping to make him feel better but after a full day without him I realized I definitely craved his embrace as well. After all, who knew how many more of these moments I'd get once Edward knew about my past.

While Edward ate I told him I'd decided to go back to my own apartment the next day because I felt well enough and he deserved to get his bed back. He instantly told me I didn't have to go and pouted a little, which made me feel kind of warm and fuzzy.

But I had to. I needed to go back to my old routine. Playing house with Edward had been more than fun but we were nowhere near ready to make this a prolonged or permanent stay.

In between bites Edward told me about his meeting with Father Masen. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened. No doubt the good old priest had told Edward he was making a mistake and should ditch me.

Edward told me Father Masen had said he believed Edward was acting out by dating me and would eventually go back to becoming a priest.

I wanted to dwell on that and perhaps even sulk a little. I mean the guy was an asshole but he was also Edward's… spiritual guide?

I assumed that in the past Edward had listened to him so not only did it make sense he might listen to him now but also that maybe he should listen. After all, as spiritual guide or whatever Father Masen would have Edward's best interest at heart, right?

I mean, Edward was giving up so much just to be with me. And while I didn't understand why he'd ever wanted to become a priest, I did respect that it was his choice. And for a long time that had been what he wanted.

So, in a way I understood the urgency and perhaps even desperation with which Father Masen and Doctor Deacon had tried to talk Edward out of choosing to be with me.

To them Edward was the poster child for being a good Catholic boy and I was the temporary distraction that was making him sin. There was no way I could actually care for Edward enough and no way I wouldn't leave him eventually.

I supposed, judging from Father Masen's latest spiel, they now believed Edward would snap out of it on his own, that his rebellion would fucking end once he had his thrill.

When these thoughts took hold of my mind and tried to convince me Father Masen and Edward's dad had a point and maybe he should listen to them, it was Edward who snapped me out of it by making it more than clear he was serious about us. He'd put extra emphasis on those words by kissing me firmly. That had pushed all logical thoughts out of my mind until I had to pull away because Edward's kisses were leaving me breathless and I had to force in some air. Damned stuffed nose was making me a mouth breather.

After dinner I went to take a shower and while I was standing under the hot spray of water I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to talk to Edward now.

Tonight.

He had to know what he was dealing with, who he was choosing to be with before he'd give up on his old future.

I finished my shower and toweled off quickly before I rushed to get dressed. I didn't want to lose what little courage I had built up now.

Walking back into the living room, I found Edward staring at his computer screen. He seemed to be lost in thought when I called out.

"Hey, Edward."

He turned but didn't respond. Instead his eyes roamed over my body, taking in what I was wearing.

He still didn't say anything. He just sat there. Staring.

Any other guy would have looked like a perv but when Edward did it, it was sort of sexy.

I imagined he would stride on over and grab me for a heated kiss.

Focus, Bella! I chided myself.

"Edward?" I called him again as he sat there, silent and staring.

"Sorry, what?"

"I want you to know I am serious about us too," I told him.

He smiled. "I know you are."

"Yes well, if we want this to work, we need honesty, right?"

Edward nodded, encouraging me to go on.

"I want to tell you about..."

"About?"

"Isabella Marie Volturi."

The words burned in my throat and filled the air with tension. It was like a dam broke and my mind flooded with the memories that belonged with the name.

I tried to shake it off and push back my anxiety but traitorous tears were already pooling in my eyes and my heart started pounding.

I hated that fucking name and the life that belonged with it. I hated everything that had happened before then and wasn't proud of some of it after. But I'd been running away from this for too long. It was time to face…

…myself.

There were no separate identities; there was only the divide between the unloved girl in Forks and the polished princess façade that followed after.

And these days there was Plain Bella Swan; former whore on her knees on the streets now living the wonderfully dull life with a real job and an equally real and wonderful boyfriend.

I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to have to transform into someone else again.

I liked being Plain Bella Swan.

"Bella?"

I blinked against the tears forming in my eyes and tried to take a few calming breaths.

Edward wanted to get up, probably with the intention to comfort me or whatever, but I gestured for him to stay put.

I'd never get this out if he'd started to calm or soothe me in any way. It was fucking tough though. Never did I want and need the safety of his embrace more than right now.

"Are you alright?" Edward pressed, seemingly debating whether to ignore my plea to give me space and rush to my side or wait for me to start talking. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything."

He was wrong. I did owe him this. A true glimpse inside my broken soul.

"I… I was born in Forks…" I stammered.

Forks. Population: just above 3100 at the time. Easy place on earth for a family – and I used that term very fucking loosely –to become the constant subject of gossip and rumors when they made no effort to show themselves as a united front in public - or ever. We never went anywhere as a family and people noticed that because Forks was such a darn small place.

I'd never made any true friends at school or around town because of that; most of the kids and particularly their parents had been too engrossed in chatting behind our backs to take the time to get to know me or my parents. Of course, my parents had never made much of an effort to change this by becoming a real part of the community. You'd think that my dad would have gotten some sort of respect being the town sheriff and all but apparently his rank had meant very little to the good people of Forks.

Edward didn't say anything and his silence was probably meant to keep me from getting distracted or discouraged.

"My dad was a cop and my mom… well she was a stay at home mom and a housewife to the outside world…"

"But that was an act?" Edward asked softly, quietly, as if he didn't want to break me from my concentration or say anything that might upset me.

"She preferred to keep her company outside of the house and outside of her marriage," I said wryly.

"She cheated on your dad," Edward filled in the blanks.

I nodded.

"Did he know?"

"Probably," I said, taking a deep breath.

I was feeling a little calmer and moved to sit on the sofa. Edward continued to give me my space by remaining at his desk.

"Did he say anything? Call her out on her responsibilities?"

I wanted to snort. My mother and responsibilities didn't belong in the same sentence.

And my dad had always stuck his head in the sand. He thought that being absent and spending all his time at the diner or playing small town sheriff meant he didn't have to deal with his whoring wife and unwanted kid.

On the occasions he had confronted my mom, she had yelled insults or reproaches, blaming him and me for ruining her life. She'd always been very good at blaming others for everything.

That had often effectively ended their arguments; they'd both storm off to separate rooms in the house to gain some composure, but to a kid's wandering and overly curious ears, the damage had been done. I was unwanted.

"Not often and when he did they'd end up fighting."

"And you were stuck in the middle?"

If only, that might have meant they gave a damn.

"More like invisible and unwanted on the sidelines," I muttered.

"What does that mean?" Edward wondered, frowning.

"They never wanted me. My dad might have tried for a while but he was too busy being a small town sheriff to be a real dad and my mom hated the fact I ruined whatever life she had before she became pregnant."

"Wait… you dad is in law enforcement?" Edward interrupted.

"Was." I sighed. "He died when I was thirteen."

Edward flashed me a sad smile. "I'm so sorry."

I shrugged. "Don't be. I didn't find out until a while after he died."

"Huh?" Edward questioned, clearly puzzled. And who wouldn't be. It was all so shady.

I sighed. Slowly we were getting to the real story. The most important reasons as to why I was so fucked up.

"Let me just explain a few things, alright? Without interruptions," I pleaded.

Edward nodded. "Please, go ahead."

"I didn't have any friends as a kid in Forks. Back then I was sort of okay with it; I mean… you don't really miss something you never had and I was used to my parents ignoring me, so the rest of my surroundings doing the same was no big deal…"

"That must have been tough though," Edward commented, breaking his promise not to interrupt.

I rolled my eyes, admonishing him, which caused him to smile sheepishly. "It was but you learn to adapt as a kid because your mind is still flexible I guess. Now hush," I added a bit more playfully.

"Anyway, I didn't have friends and kids at school started teasing me when I got older."

It wasn't the teasing that had really bothered me that much. Loads of kids got teased in school and my hide had grown to be thick enough over the years.

What I'd hated about the teasing was that it hadn't been lies they'd spread.

It had been the truth.

"What did they tease you about?" Edward asked, taking advantage of my silence.

"Mostly about my mom and her… extracurricular activities. Forks is a small town and word travels fast when people love to talk."

"They teased you about your mother cheating?"

"Sort of… they mostly teased me because they – well I guess it came from their parents – believed she was… prostituting herself."

Edward said nothing and sat there silently, staring at me. Scrutinizing me.

In that moment I wanted to be small and invisible again; like back when I was a kid. Somehow it was worse to look Edward in the eye than it was to have twelve year olds snicker, whisper and point behind you back.

But then his gaze softened and he spoke quietly. "And she was."

I nodded. "Ironically, despite her being a shitty mom, I guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree," I added bitterly.

Edward shook his head as if to protest my words but seemingly decided against it.

"Did your dad know about that as well?"

I had never heard them fight about this particular fact but then for some strange reason they had always managed to moderate their fights to some extent, so I hadn't had real confirmation of her whorish ways until I'd heard Aro bring them up years later.

Aro.

I shuddered. Talking about my parents' failing marriage was easy and wouldn't be something Edward could possibly resent me for.

But peeling away the layers to get to the deep, dark, black core of my own essence was becoming more painful and embarrassing as we went.

"Bella?"

I looked at Edward, remembering he had asked me something. Right, he wanted to know if my dad had known my mom was a whore.

"I think he knew. But that was also something he chose to ignore."

Edward shook his head. "This… I don't know what to say. I know it's selfish to feel blessed with my own childhood now but it puts things in perspective."

"Makes your dad look like a standup guy, huh," I teased dryly.

Edward frowned. "I don't understand why your father wouldn't protect you more. You'd think as someone who's supposed to protect citizens, abide the law etc., he'd have high morals and would protect his own-"

"-Daughter," I interrupted.

"Well, he didn't," I added coolly.

"Can I ask how he died?"

My dad's death had been a mystery for years. My mom had told me about how some punks had waited for him at our home and killed him.

Later on I had learned it had been Aro's men. And they hadn't killed him with the gentleness of a quick bullet but with a good old fashioned "pummel him 'til he stops moving".

That had been the only time I'd cried for my father; the night Demetri told me how he died and who was responsible. Demetri also made me promise never to share that I knew and never to ask about it again. When I'd asked him why he'd told me, he'd explained that he didn't want me to wonder or worry about my dad. He'd believed it would give me closure.

"He was murdered."

"Wow…" Edward breathed, "That's just… the horror you have been through…"

I grimaced. My dad's murder had been a minor tragedy compared to what Aro had done to me.

That had been horror.

"Did they ever catch the murderer?"

I shook my head. "No, he got away."

"Do the police know who did it?"

"I don't think so."

I couldn't fault Edward for asking the types of questions he did; they were basic in nature and made perfect sense in their context.

But Edward was an observant guy, he knew how to ask core questions and I was pretty certain he knew the mention of my father's murder led down a far more sinister path.

His eyes betrayed him though; they were no longer the vibrant jade I loved so much. They were dark and wary; cautious of what was to come. Given his own relatively carefree background I was sharing enough terrifying tales to last him a lifetime. So much for being innocent.

"Do you know who did it?" he then asked, proving his ability to push past the semantics and get to the significant part of this story.

"Aro Volturi," I whispered.

Edward's eyes went wide and he nodded to himself. I watched him as he mulled over the pieces of the puzzle he had, trying to make sense of it all.

"Aro Volturi, the guy from your nightmares," he eventually repeated, more for his own benefit than mine. "He killed your father?"

I nodded.

"He was responsible for his death yes."

"And you didn't find out until later… when you started carrying… the same last name?"

Edward sounded appropriately puzzled but it didn't stop him from making the bizarre assumption that followed.

"I know you're still young and all but… did… was… did you marry this guy?"

Now it was my turn to be appropriately puzzled, or rather stunned. Edward thought matching last names equaled marriage?

I shook my head vehemently, the idea too crazy, too disgusting.

"No, no!" I practically yelled. "He's old… he was a friend of my mom and one day when I was thirteen she took me away and we went to live with him."

"Your mother ran off with the guy who killed her husband?" Edward asked in disbelief. "And let you be in the presence of this man? Did she plan his murder?"

While I knew Edward was referring to my safety rather than being ironic, looking back it had been quite ironic that my mom, who all those years had wished I'd never been born had been forced by Aro to take me with her.

That day, she had started packing a suitcase as soon as my dad had left for work in the morning and I had assumed she was finally leaving my father and me behind to chase a new life.

So, it had been a huge shock when she had curtly demanded me to follow her to a black car parked outside while she had towed the suitcase behind her. I should've been thrilled my mother was taking me with her, that she was showing some form of motherly love by not abandoning me, but looking back I would have been so much better off with my dad, or as an orphan.

A man I'd later come to know as Demetri had been waiting by the black car. My mom had given him the suitcase; he'd put it in the trunk before getting back in the car and driving us away.

That had been the last time I'd seen my childhood home.

"She didn't plan his murder but she went with Aro willingly, so obviously she didn't care. And he had enough money to persuade her; he's a powerful man."

Edward let out a deep sigh. His face was flushed and his eyes held mine for a few moments.

I could see how overwhelmed he was and a part of me wanted to stop telling him more, considering we had yet to get to the ultimate bombshell and he already seemed bewildered.

Yet at the same time for me actually talking about this was strangely cathartic. It was like an out of body experience; like it had happened to someone else instead of me.

"So she wanted a different life-style? Was this Aro one of the men she… sold her body too?" he asked hesitantly.

I hadn't cared much about the connection between Aro and my mom when he'd gone to live with him. All she had told me was that they were old friends and she had demanded I call her Renée from then on and that was that.

I'd never seen them be overly affectionate though. If anything he'd seemed like a sugar daddy to her. I'd once heard him tell her she wasn't as "tight and stretch-mark free" as before, which had indicated they shared a possible romantic past before my dad had come along and ruined her life by getting her pregnant.

"I think they knew each other from before she met my dad. I guess it's possible they also hooked up when we lived in Forks but their connection goes way back before then."

"So, he was an old lover getting revenge on a rival stealing his girl away?"

For a while I'd wondered if Aro's motive to kill my dad had in fact been Mom but from what I'd observed between him and my mom all those years, he'd never come across as someone so madly in love with her that he would kill so he could claim her as his own.

Most of the time it had seemed she annoyed him. And while the motive had been about revenge, it'd had nothing to do with love for my mother.

"Revenge was his motive, yes. But it wasn't about my mom. My dad killed his son; Marcus."

I didn't know the exact details but I'd overheard Aro and Renée fight about it once when I was fifteen. Then, when I'd asked Demetri because he'd been the one to tell me about my dad's murder in the first place, he'd scolded me for asking, reminding me I'd promised to let it go years before. But after pushing and nagging he'd relented and shared a brief and vague summary of what had gone down.

Charlie was a cop in Chicago who'd killed Aro's son during some sort of a raid. Aro had waited a long time to get his revenge and he did when Felix had traced my dad in Forks and killed him.

"Your father killed his son?"

I nodded.

To this day I still didn't know the exact details of what went down. Demetri had never been a man of many words.

I knew my parents moved to Forks after my mom got pregnant and I suspected the one reason they'd moved from Chicago to a podunk place like Forks to play house was to get away from Aro's revenge. They'd started a new life with a new name in a small town.

So, growing up in Forks I'd been Bella Dwyer. And I hadn't known any better until I found a birth certificate stating my name was in fact Isabella Marie Swan when I was eleven. At first my find had been a shock and for a few moments I'd daydreamed about being adopted and having biological parents out there who might actually love me. But then I'd realized that people giving up a baby for adoption probably didn't love said baby and that genetics proved I was Charlie and Renée's daughter.

Unfortunately.

I'd never brought it up with my parents because we were registered under the name Dwyer everywhere and it's not like they would have told me the truth.

"So this Aro… he got his revenge by taking your father's life away. And then steal his daughter and claim her as his own. So she could replace his son?"

"I guess."

"So that's how you became Isabella Marie Volturi…"

I shook my head. "Not exactly."

*FLASHBACK*

We were living in Phoenix for two months now and while Renée – I could no longer call her Mom – ignored me for the most part, Aro was nice and welcoming. Finally there was someone who paid attention to me.

He gave me nice clothes and a large spacious room with a beautiful bed with a canopy and a closet full of new clothes and shoes. He was even going to throw me a party and not just anywhere but in his summerhouse in Italy. A belated celebration of my thirteenth birthday, according to him.

But first I'd be baptized because Aro was Catholic and he wanted me to be Catholic as well.

We went to Rome where a priest baptized me in a beautiful and big church; the Santa Maria Maggiore.

Aro had me practice it until I said it right. See, I had a tutor now; his name was Ephraim and he was very strict and carried a ruler everywhere.

The baptizing ritual itself was kind of boring and got my new white lace dress wet but since it made Aro happy and he had promised me a party, I didn't complain. After the baptism I not only was a real Catholic but I also had a new identity.

Isabella Marie Volturi.

Aro said he was my family now and I accepted it because he was nice and welcoming. He seemed to truly care when my parents never had.

The party itself was crowded but fun. There was a big cake and loads of presents, including a chocolate brown pony called Dolce that was all mine.

When the party ended and I was getting ready for bed, Aro came into my room. At first we talked a bit and while his eyes had lingered on my chest, I thought nothing of it.

But then he started telling me about how I was a woman now and as his fingers started making patterns on my collarbone, frightening chills started to erupt inside me, leaving goose bumps behind.

I may have known little about grownup relationships or sexuality but Aro's hooded eyes and breathy encouragement as he whispered in my ear told me that his behavior was wrong and misplaced.

It scared me but I had no chance to fight it. I could only let it happen.

That was the first night he touched me.

*END FLASHBACK*

I could feel the tears burning again and this time Edward didn't stay put. He rushed to the sofa to capture me into a near bone crushing hug.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "So sorry…"

"He… he was nice at first, nicer than my parents had ever been and I wanted a father but I n-never…"

"You never what?" Edward murmured softly, while he rubbed my back to calm me.

"I never wanted him to come into my room at night... he made me… that first night… I was baptized, I was pure… he knew that," I rambled.

I could feel Edward go rigid. He stopped making the circular motions to soothe me and sat there, frozen.

"What did he do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He called me 'La P-pura'. I didn't know what that meant until later," I started sobbing…

"The pure one," Edward mumbled.

"He… s-started touching me and… k-kept telling me I'd stay pure this way, that h-he would t-take care of me…"

I was breaking. With every word the floodgates went open a little wider and waves of those horrible memories slammed into me; crushing me completely. I tried to breathe but it felt like there was something heavy weighing me down, suffocating me.

"He molested you," Edward stated simply, but his voice was anything but calm. "How old were you when it started?"

"T-two months a-after we s-started living w-with him in Phoenix," I mumbled onto his chest. I was still clinging to him even if his hands had fallen to his sides.

"And when did it stop?"

"I r-ran away t-to Seattle when I w-w-as seventeen."

Edward remained silent until suddenly and abruptly he pulled away, causing me to almost tumble forward and plant my face in the sofa cushions.

He ignored that and started pacing… back and forth while his hair was bearing the brunt of his frustration because he started to pull at it so forcefully.

Taking his blunt withdrawal from me and his angered pacing as a sign he was becoming disgusted with me because of what I'd told him, I started to talk frantically, my face wet with tears.

"I'm s-sorry… so sorry… I know I'm not p-p-pure… I know I s-should've run sooner. I s-should've f-fought it…I know I'm a disappointment f-for n-not b-being strong l-like you t-thought…"

Edward flashed me a look and I noticed his eyes were bordering on murderous.

Trying harder to convince him, I took a deep breath and rose to reach out for him.

"I d-d-don't want to let you down… I know my p-p-past was colorful enough w-w-ithout… t-this… please don't h-h-ate me," I begged.

There was no response except for Edward moving away from me.

"I wanted to save you," he said wryly. "Clearly I failed."

"You d-did save me!" I protested, crying. "T-that night, when you f-f-found me with that g-g-uyy at the m-motel… nothing h-h-appened… he didn't f-f-uck me… y-you were on t-t-time."

Edward halted his movements and stared at me. "You lied?"

He looked furious now…

"I-I wanted to s-s-save you," I started to explain incoherently. "I t-thought that would stop you from c-c-aring f-f-or me t-too m-much."

Edward snorted but said nothing.

"B-b-ut it w-was useless," I told him as I reached to touch his chest. "And now I… I've f-fallen in l-love w-with y-you."

The moment the words left my lips I realized how true they were. I was in love with Edward.

But he didn't seem to reciprocate because he pried my hand away and put more distance between us.

"Don't…" he warned. "I can't… I need… I need to go."

And then he turned and walked out the door, leaving me crumbling to the floor.

I knew I should have left after Edward's massive rejection but for some reason I was fucking glutton for punishment.

That, and my head hurt like a motherfucker from all the crying and the fact I was still not feeling 100%.

When Edward had walked out on me, it had been the worst feeling ever. Worse than the first time Aro fucked me. Worse than when Laurent ripped my ass when he raped me.

Angela had once told me that when you love someone, you feel it in your heart, your soul, and your bones. And when they don't feel entirely the same, your heart gets shattered, your soul blackens and your bones grow cold.

Maybe my feelings for Edward weren't that strong yet but I knew I could love him in ways I would never love anyone else. And I was robbed from the chance to experience that because my stupid past kept haunting me and ruined everything I touched.

I never expected Edward to shrug off my story like it was no big deal. But to walk out on me like that, looking at me the way he had so cold and angry… that had been my worst nightmare.

Edward loathed me. I guess accepting my entire past on top of the parts he'd seen for himself was too much.

I lay on my side and stared at the neon numbers on Edward's alarm clock. It had been two hours since he'd left. I was exhausted but couldn't sleep. I worried about where he'd run off to and then I wasn't sure if Edward even wanted me here when he came back.

Eventually I managed to dose off a little until I felt the bed dip under unexpected additional weight, which brought me back to consciousness.

Before I could turn, I felt an arm snake around my waist, pulling me flush against a familiar chest.

A breath of relief, audible in a deafening silence that hung in the room, escaped me.

"I'm sorry I left," Edward's velvet voice whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

I shrugged against his chest and turned around to face him. Edward allowed me to move but instantly put an arm around my waist again to keep me close.

The first thing I looked at were his eyes. They were no longer angry or frantic and had regained their usual warm jade color.

His features were still a bit strained but the small smile playing on his lips was somewhat reassuring.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," I whispered. "I'm glad you came back."

"I'm glad you're still here," he told me. "Because there is something I have to say."

"What?"

"I don't care about the past. I mean, it breaks my heart you had to suffer so much but to me you're just Isabella Marie. I don't care which last name you carry or what story belongs with it. I just want to be part of the story that starts now."

I smiled a little. "Call me 'Just Bella'," I said.

"How about my Bella?" he smiled.

"I like that."

"Good, because my Bella, I am in love with you too."

A/N: ...well...there you have it. I'll leave the comments to you. Next chapter is Edward's reaction - his thoughts etc.

I greatly appreciate every review but I want to give a special shout out to reve2weaver who left me such an amazing review last chapter; thank you so much!

Next update might not be within a week, real life has scheduled me a busy weekend - the nerve!

Drop me some words, they mean a lot to me. I'v become a review-junkie. Kidding ;)

Have a good week!