A/N: I don't own this, we all know who does. If I did, Rpattz would be shielding me from the grumpiness in my house right now. How on EARTH do my children forget their homework every night? Ugh...

This is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes belong to me. I'm frazzled and don't have time to reread it. Sorry. :(

This is for my wifey, Mrs. Robward. I get to talk to her tomorrow. It's a good thing... :)

Thanks to Luxure & EdwardsBloodType for prereading this. My quiet girls... :)

**disclaimer **

This story is a bit taboo. So, wonder what else Bella's been up to? And for those of you worried about her not seeing her other kids, there's a bit here on that. More to come in a future chapter. :)

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… Chapter Twenty Seven - Work … Bella …

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Life's been rough over these past few years. We get by, but only because my neighbor, Mrs. Cope, is a saint. Truly, she's a blessing sent from God.

She used to run a daycare center. When I first moved in, she offered to watch Claire for me while I looked for work.

I found a job making pies. I had no marketable skills. I'd been trained for nothing, aside from raising children and looking sweet and innocent on a reverend's arm. But I could bake. I was good at that.

I guess I have all those church bake sales to thank for that.

I baked pies every day at a restaurant. Good hours, three am to noon. Claire always slept until eight or so, then went back to sleep around eleven, so Mrs. Cope refused to let me pay her for the hours our daughter was sleeping.

Instead, I brought her a fresh pie and lunch from the restaurant each day. She loved that, and so did I. My boss let me take them at cost, which saved me. I didn't have any money to spare.

About a year and a half into that, he asked me to wait tables. Someone was sick.

I was good at that, too, keeping all the orders straight. Getting the food out quickly. Another consequence of raising a house full of children, I suppose.

I don't let myself think of them. Not ever. If I did, I would lose my mind.

I've received nine letters from them since I've been gone. Alice gave them to me, they know she can find me. Most of the children still believe I didn't want them, that I left them on purpose. They believe him, his lies. I hope someday I'll get the chance to prove to them that it wasn't true.

That I ache to hold them each night.

That I worry about their grades in school.

That I hope they've had enough to eat when they climb into bed.

That I hope their new mom kisses them and patches their wounds the right way.

But I don't let myself think that way. Not yet. Maybe one day I will.

It's easier to block things out now. My job requires it of me, and I've learned it well.

A few years ago, my boss asked if I wanted to work in his other restaurant. A night club. More money, higher tips, only serving drinks.

I jumped at the chance. Claire was starting preschool, and Mrs. Cope was happy to babysit at night.

I waited tables for a year until they asked me if I wanted to make more money. If I wanted to dance.

I laughed. I was a 40 year old woman who'd given birth to six children. No men would want to watch me dance.

But they did. And I made a lot of money. The first weekend, I earned over a thousand dollars. Over half of my normal monthly wages.

I worked out, toned my body, and I looked better than most of the 25 year old dancers.

I got a customer base, men who came to see me every week.

They were nice, mostly. Once I got to know them, it didn't seem so bad.

A few lap dances here, a couple private dances there.

I only work three nights a week now, and two of them are on the weekend. I'm home to tuck Claire into bed each night, and fix her breakfast each morning. I get her off to school, then I work on my online classes.

You'd be proud of me, I think. I'm doing something with my life. Trying to be something.

You always said I could be anything, anyone, but I never believed you.

I listened to him when he told me all I'd ever be was a housewife.

He had made sure of that. He took away all of my chances, my opportunities. My choices.

Sometimes I laugh, thinking he's doing that to someone else now.

But I'm free. Free from his reign. Free from his words.

I always thought he was a good man. And he was.

Just not good for me.

Not like you were.

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A/N: Not quite what you thought she'd be, right? :)

Oh, and Bella...as a stripper...after 6 kids...and 42 years old? Oh yeah, SO totally possible. It's sick, really. And completely unfair. Especially since I have to personally know women who look like this. I hate that... :D

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