As usual, I didn't sleep much. After three hours, I startled awake and got up. It was only four am so I wasn't expecting anyone up. I softly slipped out my room and into the kitchen after freshening up in my bathroom, searching for something to eat.
There wasn't much except some fruit so I decided to make some breakfast, opting for some cinnamon buns. Making them would take time, but at this point I needed the distraction. I was still dreading the Cullens confronting me.
There was no telling with them and that's what I was afraid of. I had no idea if they would trust me or if they would put their guard up and rat me out to the Italians. If the devil got his hands on me again, I know he would destroy me completely. Rip what little of me I had left.
Push. Roll. Flip.
The first time I had disobeyed him was the worst.
"You know I don't want this as much as you?" He cooed softly, stroking my head. I was young, barely seven and so confused.
"But Father I am sorry. I won't do it again. I promise," I hiccuped. He softly shushed me, pushing me further into the room. I stumbled in the dark, trying to adjust to the lack of light.
"Oh my Little Duck, you say that but you don't mean it," he tutted, grabbing my arm tightly. I felt him slip them into something cold, tightening it around both my wrists.
"I do mean it. I swear it Father," I couldn't clearly see his face in the dark, but I felt his anger before I felt his slap. It was sharp and quick, leaving my cheek stinging and my jaw aching.
A fresh set of tears blurred my vision, the fat droplets making my cheek sting even further.
"You need to grow up Daughter and accept the consequences of your actions," his voice was a new type of cold and detached, the tone calm but with a severe anger hidden in it. My childish brain was quick to realise the severity of the situation so I silenced my sobs and hiccups.
Push. Roll. Flip.
The next punishment was painful, but I was prepared. There were no tears this time and no begging. I was dragged to that pitch black room and chained to the walls. I learnt how to survive the darkness without going insane.
Push. Roll. Flip.
The third time he must have sensed I was getting used to it, so he changed it. I was tied to a pole, given ten lashes to the back and left there for everyone to see. I was made to fight despite my injuries and weakened state and every loss was another set of lashes.
What was most frustrating thing about my punishments, was that they all had one common factor.
Demetri.
Push. Roll. Flip.
I broke the rules to help and save him. I'd bring him food when he was being punished and I'd go easy on him in fights and training. Father hated that we were more loyal to each other than to him and he always took it out on me.
And now, when I needed him to be there for me, he betrays me.
It was sick and twisted and no doubt a major part of Aro's plan.
Push. Roll. Flip.
"I think that dough's had enough kneadin'," A voice drawled. I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up to see Jasper leaning against the doorway, watching me intently.
I was shocked that I had been so lost in my thoughts I hadn't heard him come in. I blinked at him, watching his face and regarding his body language to see what he wanted. I pulled my floury hands from the abused dough.
"Isn't it a bit early to be up and about like this?" I had only now noticed the Southern twang in his voice, not having spoken to him enough for it to be audible before.
"I'm a troubled sleeper," I breathed out a short awkward laugh. He got up from the doorway and moved to sit in the barstool opposite me.
"I was like that before. But then I met Alice and things changed," the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. It fell silent again and his cornflower gaze returned to mine, communicating silently.
"Isabella, you may not know me well, but there is one thing you should be aware of," I pursed my lips at his suddenly serious tone, waiting for him to continue. "I'm very protective of those I care about," I sighed, knowing where he was going.
"Jasper, I'm not here to hurt you or any of the Cullens," I spoke, keeping my dark eyes locked on his. He looked skeptical and I huffed.
"Edward told us you were there that night and shot a man right before him," he challenged, brow risen.
"Exactly. I shot Caius and not him even when I had the chance. I have nothing against you Cullens," I stressed. He crossed his arms and stared me down and I sighed again. "Look, killing is what I do, it's the one thing I'm good at. If I was here to kill any of you, you'd be dead by now,"
I placed my hands on the counter, and his eyes roamed the exposed skin of my arms before him. Every dip and raise of my skin spoke of all the fights I had survived. The silence between us was heavy as my words hung in the air.
"I'm making cinnamon rolls, they should be done in about an hour," He eyed me for a moment before nodding ever so slightly, a sign that this conversation was over.
Alice chose that moment to walk into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes while her hair was spiked up in all directions. She looked adorable in her ruffled state. It was a little disheartening to see how she stiffened when she saw me.
"What's going on?" She asked, trying but failing to keep her tone light. She subconsciously stepped closer to Jasper while watching me.
"I'm making cinnamon rolls. Would you like to help?" I extended the metaphorical olive branch towards the smaller woman. She considered for a moment, looking towards her boyfriend who only nodded before she agreed.
"Sure. Just a heads up though, I'm hopeless in the kitchen," she giggled lightly, somewhat relaxing already. I showed her how to make the cinnamon paste. She applied it gingerly and I helped her cut the rolled dough, while Jasper just watched us.
It was more fun than I thought it'd be and finally, after hours of labour, they were done and ready to be eaten.
We sat in silence in the living room, all of us just enjoying the fruits of our labour, the morning news serving as background noise.
Despite the odd circumstances, I found myself feeling more relaxed and comfortable than I had in a long time. I was going to make the most of it until the inevitable shitshow.