[AN: Trigger Warning: oral sex, Character death, abuse, violent imagery, and physical, emotional, and sexual patient abuse]
When I was a child, I'd sit for hours
Staring into open flame
Something in it had a power
Could barely tear my eyes away
- Hozier ~ Arsonists Lullaby
The sky was full of fluffy blue clouds when they came to take me away.
I always thought bad things were supposed to happen when it rained, but never when the sunshine lit up our family garden in the most beautiful way.
Not when the clouds were puffy and shaped like hearts and stars
But the worst thing happened on the most beautiful Georgia day.
Seth was playing with our family dog, Sam. A sweet puppy with brown eyes who was so protective of him it was hard to believe this was the same dog who cried during thunderstorms.
My sweet younger brother was sitting, waving a stick at the dog, and tossing it as far as his short toddler arms could. Which was admittedly not far.
His second birthday had just passed, born the fall after the Swans brought me in.
He smiled at me, "Mar! Mar!"
I didn't go by Isabella anymore, my family, my real family, called me Marie. It was safer, they said. No one would be looking for Isabella Rothschild by her middle name.
I always wonder who gave me up- I couldn't blame them, times were hard, especially here, in the deep southern heat, where the war between the states didn't seem so much ancient history here, as it did when I was taught of it in my studies. People had lost homes. People were starving for the idiocy of their parents.
But regardless of who turned my Mama and Papa in, they were given over.
I saw the police car making its way down the road from my place on the porch. I made my way inside to hide, taking my brother with me, to the cupboard by the back door as quietly as possible, as my Mama had told me was necessary.
I heard their car door shut,
I heard their quiet discussion turn to yelling.
Then I heard my Mama scream for me to run.
So I did. I ran out the back as fast as my legs could carry me, Seth on my right hip. He cried quietly, seeming to understand that now was the time to do things quietly.
I couldn't hear them behind me yet, but I knew soon I would.
I pushed myself harder than I ever had. Running faster than I ever had before, running for my damned life.
But the human body could only take so much before giving out.
Soon, too soon, I had reached my limit.
I was hidden in the trees, deep in the forest. I heard them calling for me, and I climbed down into a deep ditch. Covering myself and my brother with leaves, branches and dirt. His brown eyes twinkled up at me with fear and confusion. I kissed his forehead laying back to rest.
Soon I would have to run again.
/-/-/-/-/-/
There was enough water in the streams, and pawpaw and pecan trees that I was fed. But even at 16, with no children of my own, I knew that that diet would not be good for Seth.
My brother needed to be with people more capable of taking care of him.
I knew what I had to do. But I was scared.
I knew that returning to be Isabella Rothschild would be nothing like the soft, happy life I had had after the farmer took me in and we fled south.
I knew that Marie Swan, the young woman I had become with my Mama and Papas Guidance, could never again fit into the mould they had tried to, and almost succeeded in, stuffing me into before.
But I loved my brother. And I didn't want him going hungry.
It didn't take long to decide. I would always put my family's needs above my own. And though we shared not even a sliver of DNA, Seth was my family.
/-/-/-/-/-/
The policeman smiled at me in the backseat.
"You know Miss Rothschild, those people who kidnapped you, they'll be put away for a long time. You don't ever have to worry about seeing them again. You have nothing to be afraid of."
Isabella would not have responded. She would have shaken her head. And looked with dead eyes out the window.
I, on the other hand, would respond.
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." I snarled.
The policeman looked startled. "Thought you said she was a lady?" He spoke to his partner climbing into the car.
"She is? Well, she's supposed to be, got kidnapped out of finishing school. Right before they could introduce her new betrothed."
"Oh? I'm to be married now?" I said with a sarcastic type of happiness. "I hope he isn't a damned Mutton-Shunter* like the likes of you two!"
The two were shocked, and I smiled. Maybe now they wouldn't bore me with chatter the entire way to Boston.
/-/-/-/-/-/
"Isabella!" my mother cried.
She grabbed at me, hugging me around the waist and kissing my cheek.
"Oh, my darling girl, I never thought I would see you again after those monsters took you from us."
Behind her, my father stood stock-still. Eyes hard and mean as ever. "Isabella is it true you were being rude to those kind policemen who brought you home?"
I snorted. "kind policemen? More like annoying church bells*. Hell, mother, they were worse than you!"
It looked as though they would have to pick their jaws off the floor. I smirked at them.
"You will not act this way when Michael arrives." My father demanded. "I know you've been through a lot, but you will not ruin the last chance you have for a respectable husband."
"Oh, and whatever will I do without a man to beat me when I displease him?"
My father's hand twitched. He had not hit me since I was nine years old, but I wondered now if he would, just to shut my mouth.
"What if I tell you I've been a proper trollop since I was taken?" I smiled. "What if I tell you I've bedded a million men! Would you pass me on to this respectable man now?"
I didn't see the blow coming. It was a sharp pain against my left cheek. The force of the blow threw me into a near wall. I tasted blood.
"Oh, father. Don't you know- you may have never taught me to love or respect myself- but you sure as hell made sure I knew how to handle a blow." I laughed. "I guess you figured I'd need that more."
His mouth pursed. "You. Will. Not. Show attitude around Michael. You will not like the outcome if you do Isabella. God Help me, I will make you regret being born if you ruin this deal for me."
"Deal?" I question, smile still on my face. "Ah, so Michael is a business partner. Tell me, father, what did your daughter's virginity get you, business-wise?"
A second blow shot out against my right cheek, harder than before. But I had known worse pain. And I was not afraid of this man anymore.
Once he disowned me, I'll head back south, find Seth, and we'll make our living, where we belong.
I just have to make sure this Michael is as uninterested as possible.
/-/-/-/-/-/
I was wrong. I was so wrong. My father did not disown me.
He sent me to hell.
I thought that surely, Miss Higginbothams was hell for children. But now I know, that was the only purgatory.
Hell was the asylum. Hell was here. Where the guards beat us for nothing, and the treatments are worse than the beatings.
In my first week here I learned a lesson. I had washed and dried and dressed in my asylum uniform neatly. A mistake. One of the guards, John, I believe was his name, came into my room, smiling softly at me.
"You know Isabella, it's a lot easier to survive here if you have a friend."
"My name is Marie," I stated calmly.
"Marie, then." He dismissed. "Pretty girl like you, you could get a lot of friends here. If you wanted."
I didn't realize what he meant. "I'm listening."
He stuck his tongue down my throat. His hand secured mine in one of his own. And his other caressed my side, from breast to hip. I struggled against him, but his grip only grew tighter, to the point of pain. He bit my lip until I bled. I whimpered in fear.
"Yes, that's right, be a good girl, and just feel,"
I was crying, and suddenly I cried out, as loud as I could. Then, I couldn't feel the weight of his body against mine.
"They're coming! John, they'll catch you!" Another guard had ripped him off of me. I stood there shaking, as they fled the room. I tried to tell the nurse who came to check on me, but she only slapped me and deemed me a perverted little girl.
So, I learned that the rules of presentation did not apply here.
Step one. I let my hair become a rats nest of tangles, and dirt, and stray items I could tangle into it, making it look bigger, like the Frilled Lizard, diagrams of which I had seen in my father's books, the Frilled Lizard, or Chlamydosaurus, used its peculiar neck frills to make larger predators wary to approach.
Step two was to not wash my face, and when I did, to recover my skin with a fine layer of grime.
Step three was to coat my teeth in the same grime each morning. To flash my teeth like a cornered animal at the guards whenever they got too close.
And step four took me six hours to master, looking into the bathroom mirror.
Step four was to make my eyes look as full of malice as I can. Have eyes, that seemingly scream, " stay away- she will rip your flesh and enjoy it"
It wasn't a perfect plan. But the guards kept their distance, so I saw it as a win.
Victoria was dragged in about two months after I was. She was roomed with me. She was frightened of me. And tried to sleep in the hall. I tried to tell her that was a bad idea.
"Get away from me! I'm not crazy! I'm not like you!"
She pushed me. She ran out into the hall. I waited for her return. I hoped that she was okay, though it seemed unlikely, her being so fast to run, she didn't give me a chance to explain that John patrols the halls at night.
I waited for an hour. I waited for two. I waited for three, then I was standing to go find her when the door slowly opened.
Victoria had been to hell and back.
Bloodshot eyes from crying. And uniform skewed. She still had bits of drool on her chin.
I led her to the sink in the corner of our room. I took a piece of my sheet off the bed, ripping it as quietly as I could, and wet it with warm water.
I cleaned her face, then brushed her hair. Then held her as she cried for her mother. There were no mothers here.
/-/-/-/-/-/
Edward's finger landed in between Isabella's eyes.
She first focused on the finger, crossing her eyes unintentionally, then on Edward.
Edward smiled. "You looked awful distant, Love. I hope you weren't thinking dark thoughts?"
It had been a week since the revelation that Edward was her mate, and Isabella could not remember a happier time in her life. Any of them. And there were a few, at least in her mind.
Isabella the first, Marie, Bella, and Isabella the Second. Though this feels an entirely different era than that of Isabella the second.
The meadow they sat in was lovely, purple and pink wildflowers growing, scenting the air with their passions. Isabella loved this place. She and Edward had visited more than once this week already. She had never seen a place more lovely.
"Edward?" Isabella asked softly.
Edward, who had given up on an answer, instead of leaning back on his elbows to bask in the sun, opened one eye to look at Isabella.
"Call me Bella."
Edward was curious at this development, but knew that her dropping her shield was a special thing, not just whenever he felt curious.
"Alright, Love. Bella it is." Edward learned to kiss her forehead.
Bella wanted to distract herself from her memories, and there was one sure-fire way to do that. There was just one problem.
He had strictly set their physical boundaries early in the relationship. The day after their bath together had apologized for being so forward with a woman he had not yet claimed as his wife.
Isabella had been confused. And Edward had tried to explain that he wanted to wait until they were married to make love.
Isabella was aghast.
"You mean- like- like- humans do?"
Edward set his jaw. "Like Christians do, Love."
But now in this meadow, surrounded by warm sunlight, glinting off of their skin, Bella the second, was going to try her luck.
Bella crawled into Edward's lap. He smiled down at her, tucking hair behind her ear.
"Hello," he wrapped his arms around her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Bella smiled at him, leaning forward to capture his lips. He had not forbidden kissing, it would have killed him to do so, it was hellish already trying to prevent himself from taking his all too willing mate.
The kiss started soft and sweet. Edward smiled against her mouth.
Then Bella's tongue swiped at his lips, asking for entry.
Edward opened his mouth without thinking, and Bella tasted him.
Oh, God! He thought, moaning into her mouth.
He was not prepared when her hips moved against his. Her denim-covered center brushing his own. His hips thrust before he could even process what was happening.
Then he did. "No- no- Bella." He shook his head. "Once we're married we can-" he swallowed unable to speak the words make love. "Whenever you like."
Bella's lips were pursed. "So- no sex?"
Edward flinched. Then nodded.
"Hmm- well how far in is the cutoff point?"
Edward was confused. "What do you mean love?"
Bella smiled. "Well, kissing is, obviously okay, and I would be fine if you wanted to touch me?" Bella moved her hips again, drawing a hiss from Edward as he fought the urge to grab her hips and push her harder against his cock.
"I- I don't think that's a good idea, Bella."
Bella smiled. "Okay, so maybe I can touch you?"
Edward was floored. He knew he should say no outright, but he wasn't expecting this.
"You- you want," he took a breath, trying to control himself, failing. "You want to touch me? Like- like that?"
Bella licked her lips. "Actually I would prefer to taste you."
She was going to say more, attempt to seduce him, but he was thoroughly seduced.
He sprang forward, tackling her into the grass, her legs wrapped around his hips, and Edward couldn't stop himself from rutting into her, their jeans and underwear in the way of what he wanted.
He kissed her face a dozen times, holding her between his hands, not able to stop his hips.
Isabella was climbing. She had attempted to seduce Edward but the steady pressure he was providing between her legs was sending her into orbit. She clutched at him.
"Oh- Edward please- don't stop!"
Edward was not going to stop. He was hard and ready. It took the last shred of decency he had in him to hold himself off from ripping her clothes off and burying himself to the hilt. He knew she was wet enough to take him- he could smell it. He wanted to taste it.
His hands went to her breasts, beneath her shirt. Teasing her nipples, squeezing, and turning them, until she cried out throwing her hips at him and nearly bucking him off.
His hand went between them. He had to touch her slick flesh. Now.
His hand slipped into her jeans, busting the button quickly, and reaching for her underwear. He could feel the lace to them, and he attempted to imagine what they look like, but he was quickly diverted when his hand brushed past the small patch of hair and bumped her clit. She thrust her hips at his hand.
"Oh god, Edward- if you stop now you'll kill me." She whimpered.
She was so wet. His finger traced around the perimeter of her clit. And she whimpered. His finger went to the tip, and he rocked it, slowly, eyeing her expression.
Bella was lost, he was touching her so well. And she had only one complaint.
"Edward, oh god. Faster!" Her voice was a whine.
He sped his movements, moving so that his thumb was rubbing her clit, while his two index fingers made their way to her opening.
He teased the edge, unsure if she wanted him to go further.
She reassured him with a rasp. "Oh please... Oh, God! Oh, I love you please, don't stop."
Edward pushed his fingers inside, slowly, speeding his thumb again.
"Oh, Edward please..." she was gasping now. "I need you inside me so badly."
He shushed her, barely clinging to self-control at this moment, and kissed her neck.
He wanted to see her, to taste her.
"Isabella- if- it's- it's quite alright with you- I would like-" he tried to think of a way to phrase it so that it would sound more romantic than crass.
Bella looked at him, eyes shining with lust. "Yes, my love?"
Edward was shaking with embarrassment. "I would like to try... tipping the velvet*?"
Bella gasped, speechless. Only able to nod frantically.
He smiled and kneeled between her legs.
He pulled her nearly destroyed jeans, and white lace panties down her thighs, kissing the tops of both softly as he did.
He pulled them down over her feet, softly removing her shoes as he did.
He pushed her tank top over her head to the side, to complete this image.
Beautiful. Perfect. Edward just looked at her for a moment.
She was so beautiful, glistening, and pulsing for him. He lowered himself.
He kissed the little bud that had quickly become his best friend, for giving her all these beautiful reactions to his touch.
She jumped and thrust her hips at his at the kiss. Eyes rolling back into her head.
Edward's tongue did a quick swipe over her clit. And she thought she would explode. Her hands gripped his hair. And it didn't seem she spoke English anymore, twisting out the word "please" and "Edward" but not much else.
I've barely started and she's a quivering mess. Edward thought with awe of his mate's body. So sensitive, so reactive.
He repeated his motions from before twice in quick succession, and her hips thrust at his mouth, painting his face with her arousal.
Edward had never felt anything like this and quickly decided that he would be doing this as often as she would allow his head between her legs.
Her taste was making him throb, and he palmed himself through his jeans as feasted on her, sucking her clit into his mouth, for the joy of watching her legs shake and sampled her taste with more pleasure than he could explain.
After her fourth small death, she was trying to get him to let her reciprocate. But he was having too much fun.
So he gave her two more before he found himself on his back, his mate glorious and glowing from his exertions, on top of him, straddling his legs.
She looked at the zipper of his pants, and how his cock fought to escape.
How uncomfortable it looked. She tugged the button undone, pushing the zipper down. She grabbed his boxers, pulling them down, Edward lifted his hips best he could to help.
He sprung free. Isabella bit her lip. He was good-sized, and hard and throbbing. She watched as a drop of pre-cum escaped the head. She wiped her thumb over it.
Edward groaned, head slamming into the dirt beneath him, leaving a good-sized dent.
Isabella tasted him. It was... salty. She wasn't very experienced in this way. No way would she do this with someone she didn't trust implicitly.
She kissed the tip.
He gasped "please... please. Don't... don't stop." His encouragement helped.
She took him into her mouth, as far as she could.
"Ahh.. ahh.. oh god. Oh god." He looked down at Bella's mouth on him.
Isabella wasn't quite sure what she was doing, licking and sucking on him, careful to keep her teeth sheathed. Experimentally she hollowed her cheeks, sucking his shaft deeper into her mouth, and now to the top of her throat.
"Oh, Fuck. Bella, I'm- I'm going to-"
He came. Isabella swallowed quickly. Not wanting to savour anything. It wasn't something she enjoyed, though she would do it again, seeing as it seemed to please him. But damn. Did it taste weird? And not in a good way. It wasn't blood- not even bear blood. Ick.
He sat up quickly, kissing her soundly. Tasting her, and tasting himself, on their lips.
"I love you." He whispered. He pulled up his pants. "But that cannot happen again. Not until we're married."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, marry me then!"
Edward looked shocked. "You- you don't think it's too soon?"
Isabella groaned. "You're my mate, right? So we're meant to be- what's the problem?"
Edward grinned. "Thank god. I was waiting a couple of months to ask, as not to seem forward. But if you're feeling the same as I, Bella, will you marry me?"
Bella smiled wryly. "You could have been a bit more romantic."
Edward ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus! Woman, you sucked all the Romanticism I had out through my damned tool."
Isabella laughed. "Well then, you scoundrel, I will marry you."
I love you, Scoundrel.
I love you.
[AN: So we got a little bit more background on Bella's history. And some badly written smut. We'll go further later.
For now! Please review it's my favourite thing ever!
Also! If you hated the smut let me know- I fucking hate it. It's not sexy at all,
But also!
Mutton shunter: a corrupt policeman who sleeps with prostitutes.
Tipping the velvet: going down on a woman.
Church-bell: an annoying, talkative woman.
Trollop: promiscuous woman, or whore. ]