A/N: Love yas, and thanks to Kim, Melinda and Leigh.


Black Swan

Chapter 18

"Sweetheart, you have to talk to him," Esme rationalizes, gently wiping strands of hair off my brow. "There has to be a reasonable explanation for this."

I can only shake my head numbly and unmoved. Though, that's my mother; she only ever sees the good in people and she's all too willing to overlook and excuse their flaws. In me most of all.

"Bella, you have to understand, he was young..." she continues when I interject, my voice so dull and defeated I barely recognize it as my own.

"What he said about me was recent."

"Can I see it for myself?" she asks delicately.

"Ask Emmett to hack his Facebook," I suggest absently just as Alice bursts into my room unannounced, a look of panic flooding her features.

"Bella—he's coming!"

Not sixty seconds later, he's banging loudly and erratically on the front door. "BELLLLA—PLEEEEASE! TALK TO ME!"

I immediately cover my ears with my hands, but it's a pointless, child-like gesture. It does nothing to muffle his cries, or stop me from hearing Carlisle's loud, slightly fearful commanding voice.

"Emmett—stop!"

On impulse, and barely conscious of my own actions, I lunge from my chaise and race to the front entrance of the house; only to stop in my tracks so suddenly I almost fall over my own feet.

Emmett has Edward by the scruff of his shirt, three feet in the air and the look on his face is nothing short of murderous. Carlisle's beside him, attempting and failing to talk him down.

"Emmett, release him. This is not who you are," Carlisle reminds him, but Emmett's anger is blinding him to rationality.

"Let him go, Em," I tell him calmly, expelling a heavy breath, but he doesn't appear to hear me.

"What-what did I do?" Edward exclaims, his eyes, wide and beseeching, darting from Emmett to me and back again. "Bella—"

"Do not speak my name—ever!" I cut him off sharply.

"Please..." he pleads with me.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Emmett opens it and shoves it an inch from his face. "What did you do?" he mocks him. "You did this, you little bastard!"

Edward stares at it, his already immense, incomprehensible eyes widening further. He shakes his head fitfully. "No...I-I'd only just met you, Bella—it was before I knew!"

Folding my arms tensely across my chest, I snort. "So, before you knew I was more dangerous than you are? Is that your defense? Break his neck, Em. I no longer care." Turning my back on him, I leave the room.

I pass Jasper as he walks calmly into the situation before he unleashes his emotional sedative on the three of them.

"Follow me, Edward," I hear Carlisle's staid voice, as I aggressively slam my bedroom door closed behind them.

. . .

"You don't know the particulars behind it," Rose picks up where Esme left off.

My skin was absolutely crawling with the knowledge of Edward in the house. I immediately left through my bedroom window, and kept running deeper into the forest until I could no longer detect his scent in the air. Rose, of course, followed me, sitting beside me on an edge of the cliff-face overlooking the Bogachiel River.

"He kept in touch with that repulsive human—that's all I need to know," I remind her, jerking my shoulder with irritation.

"I still think you should get his side of the story," she stubbornly asserts. "He's your mate, Bella—whether you can tolerate him at the moment or not. You know in your heart he is."

"People kill their mates every day," I add bitterly, and she scoffs.

"If you could kill him, he would already be dead."

"Regardless," I say, turning to face her. "It's over. Mate or not, singer or not, I don't want him in my life." Of that I'm certain.

"Bella..."

"When we get back, I'm telling Carlisle I want to move."

"Oh, Jesus..." she mutters, bowing her head to massage her brow.

"I'm serious about this," I declare, my voice still hopelessly devoid of any emotion other than bitterness. It's best if I keep it this way. If I let anything else seep in, it would mean certain death for the one human I still don't want dead.

"You'll regret it," are the last words Rose speaks before she pulls herself to her feet and takes her leave.

"No, I won't," I murmur in reply, moving in the opposite direction. While Rose heads back to the house, I venture far into the Olympic National Park.

I'm gone for a week, and when I return home, I do so with my red eyes taking on a golden hue from the amount of animal blood I consumed during my sojourn. It wasn't from some reformed lifestyle change; I simply couldn't bear to be within fifty miles of humans. I had no other choice.

Esme, naturally, is overjoyed, but I let her believe I'm coming around to their dietary restrictions. She deserves an infinitesimal amount of happiness when it comes to me, at least.

I don't indulge her in it, though, because the moment I enter the house it hits me—his scent. The entire house is permeated with it. It clings to the furniture, the carpets, and it hangs in the air washing over me.

He was here for several days, and I can barely tolerate it. That night I call a family meeting, and once again, we assemble at the dining table where I tell them I want out, sans The Red Canary. I make my demands clear. I do not want to hear his side of the story, nor am I even remotely interested in it. We are leaving, and he is staying. End of discussion.

"Bella, please reconsider," Carlisle replies with a jaded sigh as if my entire existence wearies him. "Edward knows too much. Aro will never allow him to simply walk away."

"You should have thought of that before you decided to play matchmaker with a child!" I remind him, my tone derisive.

"It's true, your sister did foresee a new member in our family—one who started out as a human—"

"That you conveniently forget to inform me of," I finish for him.

He sighs again, and drops his forehead into his outstretch hand. "Given your...aversion"—he deliberately sugar-coats it—"to boys his age, we knew we had to tread carefully. Had you been aware of it in advance, you would have more than likely killed him. We decided to wait and see what happened. Unfortunately, the moment you met him Alice's sight in regards to him ceased. Though, we never anticipated that he would be your singer."

"Well, I appreciate your concern for me and my love life and everything," I say as each word bleeds with sarcasm, "but you should have just minded your own damn business."

"Nevertheless," Carlisle is undeterred, but he very rarely is when it comes to me, "I cannot allow a human to die because of us—especially one so young."

"I'll speak to Jane. She'll take care of it," I assure him, my resolve unwavering even as Esme balks.

"You might be able to put that dear boy's life in Jane's hands, but I cannot," she adds, her lips pursing as she looks down at me with her typical prose of abject disappointment.

"Your mother is right," Carlisle immediately backs her up. "You exposed yourself to him too hastily, Bella. From the first day you forced my hand. If you won't register him, I will."

I immediately stiffen, my hands balling instinctively into tightly closed fists. "If you bring him into this house, I will leave and live with Jane"—Rose gasps—"I'd rather work for the Volturi than live with a family who puts a human's wellbeing before my own."

"Bringing Edward here would be for your wellbeing," Carlisle counters calmly. "You just can't see that now."

I scoff scornfully. "Or ever—he is not who he claims to be."

Esme sighs. It's an amalgamation of impatience and quiet desperation. She loves Edward already, but she did this to herself. "We've all heard him out, Bella—all of us, even Emmett—and we're all in agreement—"

"I don't want to hear it!" I interject sharply, before turning to my brother who's sitting beside Rose looking suspiciously sheepish. "I never took you for gullible, brother dearest."

His raises his head, his honey eyes locking with mine, hard and indignant. "If you just stopped being such a pain in the ass—"

"You're being unreasonable," Mommy Dearest cuts him off and continues her condemnation of me. "Like you often do, you are making rash decisions before you can properly think them through."

"I'm not going to change my mind on this," I assert, folding my arms over the table and staring down at them.

"I have heard that from you more times than I can recall," Esme says dryly, sounding as if she were on the verge of laughter.

My head snaps up and I glare at her. "Well, this time you can take it to the bank. And you!" I whip around to face Alice. "Keep your nosey little psychic abilities away from him!"

"You're still shielding him, Bella," she points out, but I'm past the point of listening.

Pulling myself to my feet, and slamming the chair back in place, I return to my room. Alone. It's not for long though. Rose enters timidly a couple of hours later, but I've reconciled that all of them are going to attempt to talk me around, and I've decided to humor them. There won't be a moment of peace until they do.

"Aren't you even slightly curious about what he has to say?" She sits beside me on my chaise and snatches the paperback from my hand; which is typically Rose's style. "What the hell are you reading—Sweet Valley High?!" she exclaims in disbelieve, and slight repulsion.

"Nope, and I'm reminding myself of just how vile human teenagers are," I answer simply, grabbing the book back. It's brain-scrapingly tedious, but my objective is met; I need reality not idealistic 18th century romance, vis-à-vis Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley.

"I have an idea—" she begins.

"I don't want to hear it," I break in, forcing my attention back to the impossibly beautiful teenagers—who could only be vampires with that amount of innate beauty—and their banal love interests. "Hmm, Todd... I killed this Todd not long ago. I'm certain of it." I snort back a laugh.

"Would you stop being a sadistic bitch and listen to me!" She tears the book from my hand a second time and throws it through my open window.

I huff. "What's your plan, dearest sister," I say flatly.

She scowls at me. "If you want to be sure of his sincerity, take him to Volterra. Aro will—"

"Aro will find out about his gift and realize what a powerful mind-reader he'll be as a vampire. He'll immediately acquire him—have you lost touch with reality, woman?" I again cut her off, shaking my head at her naivety.

A slow, cagey smile pulls on her lips. "So, you don't want Aro to acquire him?"

"Maybe I just don't want him around for an eternity with me," I add as she arches a deliberately dubious brow.

"Uh-huh..."

"Shut it, Barbie."

"Look, Bella, one thing I do know is no teenage boy can fake that amount of emotion. Ask Jasper if you don't believe me, you stubborn little wench! The poor kid is heartbroken."

"Poor baby," I taunt with indifference, just as Empathy himself appears in my doorway.

"It's true, Bella. He has the same level of attachment to you as if he were a vampire. A fact you exacerbated by feeding him your blood..." That askew smirk of his pulls wide, and without an ounce of tact.

"He is a spoiled little rich kid with zero respect for others!" I counter, rising to my feet, when Rose grabs my hand.

"He told us, Bella—that he...laughed at her," she admits with some delicacy.

I automatically tense and attempt to jerk my arm free but she tightens her grip. "I don't want to hear it."

"Well you're going to hear it." She pulls herself to her feet alongside me and glares down at me.

"Don't make me kick your ass, Dancing Queen!" I retort, pulling my hand free. I could, but I never would. Despite the fact that her mate would kill me, I could never inflict so much pain on someone I love. For Rose my humanity has always remained intact.

She only snorts, not even remotely convinced. "Try it," she challenges me.

"Touch her and die, Bella!" Emmett hollers from downstairs as Jasper snickers to himself.

"Why are you still here?" I turn to him and demand. "Fuck your mate and get it over with—Edward already seen how much you want to."

He raise his hands to me and turns to leave. "I could say the same thing about you," he mutters as his voice trails down the hall toward the room I unfortunately share a common wall with.

"Jesus, you're a testy bitch," Rose says, drawing my attention back to her.

"Well, it's ridiculous!" I snap. "They've been mated since before I was born!"

"They do fuck, you idiot. They just don't do it here." She rolls her eyes. "Stop deflecting."

"Fine!" I say petulantly. "Say what you have to say and then leave!"

Huffing stiffly through her nose she grabs my elbow and forces me back down on my daybed. "He admitted he laughed, Bella. With a whole ton of shame, he admitted it, but he said that night the spoiled rich kid he was died. He's never been the same since. I'm very hard to fool, and if he's putting it all on he's fooling me, Jasper, Alice, Em, Mom and Dad—all of us. You know this, too, Bella, or you would have killed him the day you met."

"He would have raped that poor girl had she not woken up—" I begin, when Rose impatiently butts in.

"He would have, should have, could have—it's irrelevant. He didn't."

"If he laughed, he had zero empathy. I would bet the very blood in my veins that he would have raped her, as well, and I cannot conceive of living my life with that kind of person—ever! Whatever I might have felt for him is now dead. He's lucky I'm even letting him live."

"So, you're condemning him on what might have happened. Great philosophy, Bella," she says sardonically. "You've been searching for an out this whole time and now you've got it. Congratulations." Pulling herself to her feet again, she moves to leave.

"You better be prepared for it, Rose. If he enters this house, I'm leaving," I say, deadly serious this time.

"Fine," she whispers, closing the door softly behind her, but she isn't nearly finished with me, and in the early hours of the morning, I find her once again before me. "You can't leave me, bitch." She's as serious as I was, and close to tears this time.

"You have Emmett," I remind her with some delicacy.

"It's not even close to being the same, and you know that. I have nothing in common with Alice, and Esme and I clash at the best of times. Bella..." Her eyes project a silent pleading.

I shake my head, but I'm wavering before her eyes and she knows it. "I...I can't, Rose. I can't..."

"Bella," she repeats with a sigh, and sitting beside me, she takes my hand, "he was a child and influenced by older boys. Even still, he was the first to come forward and own his part in it. What exactly are you looking for?—because you will never find a perfect human. Or vampire, for that matter. You're using this as an excuse to back out."

I shake my head dismissively, while remaining conscious of her feelings; I share them with her, after all. "It won't be forever—and that's exactly what we have. Forever," I stress.

Rose shakes her head along with me, adamantly on her part. "You know how well Em gets along with him. He'll gain a brother and I'll lose a sister—while that little red canary of yours will be a constant reminder of your absence."

"What do you expect me to do?" I complain.

"Stop running!" she replies, her voice rising.

"I-I'm not," I falter.

She snorts ruefully. "You were in love with him the first time you brought him here. You've been fighting it every second since. Why can't you see what we all clearly can?" She's genuinely confused. And hurt, but I don't know what to say to placate her, and it's making me restless.

"Rose, whether that night changed him—whether it's even true or not—he was once the very epitome of what I cannot stand. I just can't deal with it."

"So, you're remaining in the past and condemning him by it, as well," she notes scathingly. She's angry, I get it, but there's nothing I can do about it.

"He's a child," is my paltry attempt at reason, only for Rose to scoff obnoxiously.

"So are you, and you have become the very thing you claim to despise."

"Fuck you!" I snap with impatience, glaring at her.

She huffs clearly frustrated. "He is not him, and this whole time you've been desperately looking for similarities so you could sabotage it." Her tone becomes accusing, and she crosses her arms to further reiterate it. "You're scared, Bella."

"I am not scared!" I insist, my frayed emotions turning to irritation. "I just don't need to be entrapped into being mated! This entire venture was dishonest at best. You treat me like I'm a child who needs to be saved from myself, when you're the ones who live UNNATURALLY!" I descend into shouting, but the momentum of anger and frustration is moving beyond me. "Carlisle forced me into this life. I. Didn't. Choose it!"

"You think I did?" she replies, unmoved.

"You've embraced their lifestyle. That was your choice, but I'm constantly derided for doing the very thing that's within my nature to do! No one ever asked if I wanted their vegan lifestyle. They're no better than those weird religious nuts who force their children into cults along with them!"

Rose rolls her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "You're grossly exaggerating now. Stop being ridiculous. If it was so bad why didn't you leave?"

"I stayed because of you!"

"And yet you're leaving me now – despite how I feel." She pouts.

"Maybe I'm tired of being constantly scrutinized by Her Highness, High and Mighty. Having her speak to me as though I'm cognitively impaired, and having my property stolen for revolting against her unrealistic expectations that they FORCE on me. At least in Volterra I can be who I am without fear of reprimand.

"You'll become like them. Dead inside. Fossils with no life left in their eyes!"

I tut and shake my head, discarding it. "Now who's exaggerating? I'll be gone at most for 70 years."

"What if Carlisle turns him?" she puts to me simply, and I freeze at the very notion of it.

"He wouldn't dare."

"He's doing all this for you, Bella—no matter how much you fight him on it. Like most parents, he believes he knows what's best for you, and I am in complete agreement with him!" Spinning on her heel, she storms away, slamming my bedroom door shut, and something tells me it's the last I'm going to hear from her on the subject.

I'm in no doubt the entire household heard my fight with Rose, but I keep myself locked in my room, isolated from them all. Rose has a habit of cracking me open like a raw egg, and if Esme comes and inflicts me with her mother's guilt, I'll truly break. The truth is, I'm only just holding it together. No matter the anger I'm still struggling to keep under control, or the revulsion I feel over this new revelation about Edward—no matter his age at the time—I'm fighting to keep my thoughts from him. And I'm losing.

For five days I hold up in my room. I read, I listen to music, I talk to Jane, I watch movie, after movie, after movie, and I play my violin—badly. It was a present from Carlisle and Esme for my fifth birthday as an immortal, but I have no talent for music other than appreciating it. I leave to hunt—animals, of course, but I know if I enter the world of humans, I'll head straight to him. I can't chance it, because I'm still not confident I won't snap and kill him.

Or forgive him.

The following Friday, Esme and Carlisle attend a function at the Medical Center, while Rose, Emmett, Jasper and Alice go hunting. I don't join them. Rose still isn't talking to me, but regardless, the weather's miserable and stormy, and I'd rather not be out in it.

I laze on my chaise, earbuds wedged in my ears blasting out Jimi Hendrix while I idly flip through Animal Farm for the seventh time in half a decade. Lightning is flashing, intermittently illuminating the landscape eerily. It's January, and aside from the evergreens, the majority of trees are bare skeletal frames that reach hauntingly for the sky. With each strike of lightning, they flash white, until I notice something amiss from my periphery.

I turn my head and squint out into the darkness; someone is in the Quaking Aspen tree outside my window, but not just someone. Even in the pitch black of midnight, I can clearly see the rust gold hair plastered wet against his scalp, and his soaking wet clothes that closely sheath his tall, lean body. In a rush I sit up, just as another flash of lightning turns the night into day.

"BELLA!" He yells silently behind the volume I'm listening to Hendrix, while the expression on his face is one of pure torment.

"Good god!" I blurt, pulling the earbuds from my ears, and yanking the floor-to-ceiling window of my room open. "What the hell are you doing!?—are you trying to kill yourself!?" I shout as the relentless sheet of rain hits my face and partially covers my floor.

"Bella!" he cries. "Please—please talk to me. I can't...I can't l-live..." On top of being a complete and utter emotional wreck, I realize he's drunk, as well.

"You are going to kill me!" I snap, past patience. "If I don't kill you first! Climb down, now—before you fall, you idiot boy. I'm coming out."

In three seconds I'm below him, watching him climb precariously back down the Aspen tree. His movements are sluggish and uncoordinated, and more than once I have to force myself not to jump up and rescue him.

"Are you hard of hearing!?" I demand, when he pulls himself safely to solid ground, but my anger is stemmed from relief I realize; something I keep concealed from him.

He stumbles closer to me, when without warning he drops to his knees before me in the mud, his head bowed so lowly his chin thuds against his chest. "Bella, p-please forgive me..." he sobs so softly I barely hear him over the raging storm.

"You say my name entirely too much!" I fume, and bending down, I grab a fistful of his soaking sweater and haul him back to his feet. "Come inside before you catch your death!"

He nods dully and follows me, his eyes glued to the ground. When we reach the porch, I stop him. He looks up, confusion marring his blurry, grief-stricken eyes.

"Strip," I command.

"W-what?" he utters.

"You are not walking mud and rain all through my mother's house—she'll kill you. And if you don't get out of those clothes, they'll kill you. So, hurry the hell up!"

"O-kay," he stammers, and he's trembling, I notice. Uncontrollably, while his lips are practically blue.

"What the hell were you thinking, Edward?" I challenge him, helping him out of his clothes when I realize the state of his inebriation and his hopelessly shaking hands make it near impossible for him.

"I-I wasn't," he admits in a cracked voice. "I just...needed to t-talk to you."

"This obsession with me isn't healthy. You have to stop it," I say quietly, my thoughts monopolized by it even as the words leave my mouth. Jasper claims his attachment rivals that of a vampire, but that cannot be.

It can't.

"I-I can't help it," he replies, looking up at me and revealing the extent of his pain for the first time. He looks terrible. He's gaunt, there are dark circles under his eyes, and his skin is waxy and pale.

I huff, exasperated. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you?!" The question's not only for his benefit.

"Please, Bella...d-don't abandon me," he begs me with such an all-encompassing despondency behind his words that it causes me to falter where I stand.

"Keep s-stripping," I stammer with a sigh, rubbing at my forehead laboriously.

He undresses to his underwear before pulling himself to his full height over me. And despite the fact that he's shivering beyond his control, I have to stop myself from staring at him. At nineteen and a half he has the body of a man. His shoulders are broad, his muscle tone accentuated, but not overly so, and a fine trail of golden brown hair rises from the waistband of his underwear to lightly sprinkle across his firm chest.

"Follow me," I inform him, clearing my throat awkwardly and turning my back to lead him inside and up the stairs to my room.

I run him a shower in my adjoining bathroom, and while he's taking it, I raid Jasper's closet looking for something appropriate for him to wear. I grab a pair of sweats, and when I return to my room, Edward is already out.

"Do you normally shower for forty-five seconds?" I ask, raising a questioning brow.

He's sitting on my chaise looking unusually pale, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. "I don't...feel the best," he admits in a mumble, his eyes falling to my floor.

With a heavy sigh, I sit beside him. "Are you going to throw up?"

"Possibly."

"Good god," I mutter. "How much did you drink?"

He shrugs disjointedly. "Not sure."

"Well, that was smart."

"I'm sorry," he all but whispers, beginning to sway. "Can we stop talking for a moment...?"

I huff, exacerbated and utterly at a loss with him. "If you vomit in my room, I'll kill you. Jesus—come the hell here."

He turns to glance at me blankly, but ignoring him, I grab his head and pull him down to me. The scent of his blood deluges me immediately. My fangs draw, and placing my lips to the side if his neck, I breathe that intoxicating scent of him in. His skin is cold, but his blood is rich and burning hot behind it. I bite into him, from his jugular vein as opposed to his artery, and take the pure aphrodisiac of his essence into me.

"B-Bella..." He stumbles over my name, his grip against me as uncertain as the tone of his voice. I'm not drinking from him to feed, however, but to draw enough blood to dilute the alcohol in his system.

"Head back, mouth open," I direct him after pulling back and sucking the remnants of him from my bottom lip. I have missed the delicacy of him. The rich sweetness of his blood that ruins the taste of every other human for me. I'm always going to come back to him; I know that now.

He immediately complies, and biting into my wrist, I squeeze no more than three drops of blood between his lips. I can't risk giving him too much and engorging him again, but what he really needs isn't just an instant cure for being drunk. He needs to sleep, and my blood is the equivalent of a week of it.

"Feel better?" I ask when he cautiously sits himself back upright.

He breaks into an awkward smile, and turns his burning green eyes to me. While my blood can cure him of pretty much anything, what it can't do is rid him of his emotions. His heartache is palpable and a little too hard to bear. "Yeah," he replies in a rustic-sounding voice. "Bella...?" he begins apprehensively.

"Edward?"

"Can... we talk?" His eyebrows raise with hope, and it's genuinely pitiful. He's almost like a drowned puppy.

"No. Go back in the shower before you get hypothermia," I order him, pointing my finger toward my bathroom door.

He dutifully obeys, and I watch him make his way toward it, one hand gripping the towel at his waist while his naked shoulders are slumped in defeat.

"I knew there was a reason they went hunting in a storm..." I mutter to myself, releasing every molecule of air from my lungs in exasperation.


A/N: Thanks for reading.