Chapter Five: Decision Making

Eleanor groaned as she rolled over in her bed. She had been sick with the flu for the past three days and felt absolutely miserable. It was made worse by the fact that she was unable to visit Marie for fear of getting her sicker than she already was.

"Do you want to try to eat something?" Esme asked, gently bathing Eleanor's face with a damp cloth.

Eleanor shook her head. "I don't think I can keep it down," she said.

"How about just some broth?" Esme asked.

"I'm not hungry, Esme," Eleanor said.

"I know, sweetheart, but you have to eat," Esme said gently. "Will you try, pleas? Carlisle told me to make sure you eat something if you can. He said it should help with your lack of strength."

Eleanor sighed. "Okay," she muttered.

"I'll go get that started," Esme said. "Here," she handed Eleanor her phone. "Try watching something to distract yourself while I'm gone."

"Kay," Eleanor muttered, taking her phone, unlocked it, and tried to find something interesting to watch.

"How is she?" Edward asked, as Esme entered the kitchen and began to cook.

Esme sighed. "She's doing okay," she said. "I'm worried about her though."

"It's just the flu, Esme," Edward said. "Carlisle gave her medicine for it. She'll be fine in a few days. It's not like it was back then."

"Not that," Esme said, chopping up some vegetables. "I know it's just the flu. But she's different now."

"What do you mean?"

"She's sad. I don't need Jasper's gift to see that."

"Her mother is in the hospital, dying," Edward said quietly, "and she can't see her because she is sick. That's bound to make anyone sad."

"I know," Esme said, "but Edward, it's more than that. She keeps having flashbacks and nightmares. While you all were at school, she's been lying there, constantly reminded of what that son of a bitch did to her."

"Esme," Edward gasped dramatically, bringing his hand to his heart. "Language."

"What, it's true," Esme said with a giggle. "That bastard doesn't deserve to live. I saw what he'd done to her. She needed a cool bath to reduce her fever, so I helped her. I saw what that man did. All her scars. Edward, she's covered in them. It breaks my heart to see. And she kept trying to hide them, as if it were possible to hide them from me."

"I know, Esme," Edward said softly. "I know. In a way, I'm grateful that I can't read her mind. I'd hate to see exactly what happened to her. And yet… a part of me wants to know."

"Why?" Esme asked. "Why would you want to see that?"

Edward shook his head. "No, I want to know what she is thinking," he corrected quickly. "I definitely don't want to see what he did. It would just make me want to kill him more than I already want to."

"You can't kill him," Esme said. "Unfortunately."

"I know," Edward said, "but it doesn't mean I don't fantasize about doing it every time I see her flinch at the slightest thing."

"Same here," Esme muttered.

"Me too," Emmett called from the living room. "That son of a bitch deserves to be torn from limb to limb and then burned alive."

"I have an even better idea," Jasper said smoothly. "Let's cut off his limbs, including his… lower extremities, and pour salt into the wounds, just like he did to Marie and Ellie. After that, we burn them shut, and drop him in a pool of acid."

"Jasper," Alice cried, covering her mouth in shock. "My God!"

"Do you blame him?" Edward asked his pixie sister. "After what he has already heard from them?"

Alice shook her head. "Of course not," she said. "I just can't believe he just said that."

Jasper shrugged.

"I'll cut his junk off into little pieces, nerve by nerve and feed it to him, while you all burn him," Rosalie said, a scowl on her face. "Thank God Eleanor was exempt from what the son of a bitch did to her mother. He doesn't deserve to live."

"I couldn't agree more," Emmett said, a growl in his voice.

"What is with all of this violence and foul language?" Carlisle asked with a chuckle, walking into the house, medical bag in hand.

"We're talking about the man that decided to lay his hands on Eleanor," Emmett said.

"Ah," Carlisle murmured. "Now that makes more sense. And I agree with you."

"Carlisle, really?" Esme said, turning to face him. "You are never violent."

"Until you hurt a defenseless child," Carlisle said, "and force yourself onto a woman."

"She's not defenseless," Edward said, suddenly protective. "She can fight, I'm sure."

"You misunderstood," Carlisle said calmly. "She cannot see. Of course, that doesn't make her defenseless, but it does make it harder to get away, or see where she is hitting. That, and she is still a child. No matter how mature her experiences have made her. I would like to take that man and break every bone in his body, then throw him down a fifty foot well."

"Why only fifty?" a voice asked from the foot of the stairs. "Why not make it a hundred?"

Eleanor stood, clutching the handrail for support, face pale and clammy, shaking slightly.

"Because I don't know anywhere that has a hundred foot well, do you?" Carlisle asked, walking over to her.

"Make one then," Eleanor said. "For me, please? It's the least he deserves."

Carlisle chuckled softly. "Why aren't you in bed, sweetheart?" he asked.

Eleanor smiled a little. "I don't want to be in bed anymore," she said. "I've been in bed for three days. Besides, I keep getting flashbacks and I don't want to be alone anymore." She shuddered.

"Aww, sweetheart," Esme said softly. "I'm so sorry. Come sit down."

Eleanor moved forward slowly, feeling her way to the couch. Carlisle watching her closely to be sure she wasn't about to fall. The poor thing looked so weak and frail.

"Here," Edward said. "Can I help you, Eleanor?"

Eleanor nodded.

Edward took ahold of Eleanor's elbow and ever so gently led her to one of the couches. He sat next to her and helped her to sit down. He pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over her, tucking it around her, watched by the rest of the family.

"Thanks," Eleanor murmured quietly.

"No problem," Edward said.

"Here's some broth, dear'" Esme said. "Be careful. It's hot."

"Still can't keep anything down?" Carlisle asked, concerned.

Eleanor shook her head. "My throat hurts," she said, "and it's hard to keep things down."

"Including water?" Carlisle asked.

Eleanor nodded. "I can drink a little water, but not a lot. Drinking or eating anything makes me feel nauseous."

"Does this always happen when you get sick?"

Eleanor nodded. "I've had the flu a couple of times now," she said. "I've gotten used to it."

Carlisle frowned. "We'll see how you do today," he said. "If you still can't keep anything down by tomorrow, I will have to start you on an IV, as a precautionary measure. You're already lacking crucial vitamins as it is."

Eleanor nodded once more. "You guys are really dark, by the way," she said.

"I call it protective," Carlisle said with a wink.

"I call it fun," Emmett said.

Eleanor started to laugh, but it turned into a horrible sounding cough.

"Here." Carlisle pressed a cup of cool water into her hand. "Try to drink."

Eleanor took a few sips of the water before handing it back. She sank back onto the couch with a groan, eyes closed.

Carlisle handed the glass to Esme and pulled out a thermometer from his bag. "Open up," he said gently.

Eleanor groaned, but did as she was told, shivering slightly.

"Are you still cold?" Edward asked.

Eleanor stared at him, the thermometer still in her mouth. She didn't respond until it had beeped, and Carlisle removed it.

"It's the flu. I'm bound to be cold. Don't worry."

Edward shook his head, frowning slightly.

"You have a slight fever again," Carlisle announced. "When was the last time you took your medicine."

"Six hours ago," Eleanor muttered.

"I'm going to give you some more," Carlisle said. He raced upstairs and returned with two pills. Eleanor took them when they were handed to her, then settled back into the couch once more.

"You look like shit, Ell," Emmett said.

"Thanks," Eleanor groaned. "That's exactly what every girl loves to hear when they're sick."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Emmett said apologetically, as Rosalie smacked the back of his head. "I just meant—"

"I know what you meant, you idiot," Eleanor said. "I'm being a pain in your ass."

Emmett grinned broadly. "I like you, kid," he said.

"The feeling's mutual," Eleanor replied, eyes closed.

"What are you thinking?" Edward asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Talking to me?" Eleanor asked.

"Who else? I can read everyone's mind except yours."

"You should really learn to control that."

"I can't," Edward said. "I've tried."

Eleanor shook her head, coughing a little. "You've tried blocking it?"

"Sort of," Edward said. "I manage to ignore it, but it's always there."

Eleanor shook her head again. "Nuh-uh."

"What do you mean?"

"You can block it all out entirely," Eleanor said.

"How?" Edward leaned forward, intrigued.

"Show you later," Eleanor said. "When I don't feel like I'm dying. You too, Jazz."

"Me too, what?" Jasper asked, turning from the TV screen.

"I'll show you how to not be hit with everyone's emotions all at once," Eleanor said. "And only feel things when you want to."

"What are you getting at, kid?" Jasper asked.

"Let her rest," Carlisle said sternly. "You all can discuss this rather interesting topic later. She needs to rest."

"Sorry," Edward and Jasper said in unison.

"Mm-hmm," Eleanor murmured.

"Here." Edward rose from the couch. "Eleanor, is it all right if I pick you up?"

Eleanor blinked a little. "Why?"

"So that you can be a little more comfortable," Edward said.

"Kay."

Edward put one arm under Eleanor's back and the other beneath her legs and carefully lifted her and the blanket up. He turned her to the left, and laid her lengthwise on the couch, tucking the blanket around her, and moving a strand of hair from her face.

"Better?"

Eleanor nodded, snuggling under the blanket.

"Eleanor. Eleanor. Eleanor."

Edward knelt in front of Eleanor, who was sitting on her bed a couple of hours later. He had come up to see if she was hungry, as she had just woken up, only to find her sitting up, staring at the wall, punching her right arm repeatedly, her breathing uneven.

"Eleanor, can you hear me?"

Eleanor didn't move, only continued to hit herself. He could already see a bruise starting to form where she was hitting.

"Eleanor, stop." Edward hesitantly took Eleanor's hand and unclenched her fingers. "Eleanor, talk to me. What's going on?"

Eleanor still didn't respond.

"Eleanor, sweetie, you're not there," Edward said after a few moments, realizing what was going on. "Eleanor, you're safe. Come back to me. Listen to my voice. Try to focus on it. No one will hurt you ever again. The bastard won't come anywhere near you. I'll make damn sure of that."

"Ever?" Eleanor's voice was soft. It was only thanks to his vampire hearing that Edward even heard it.

"Ever," Edward said firmly. "You're safe. Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I'm there," Eleanor said. "I'm scared." Her voice broke on the last word and tears filled her eyes as she unconsciously flinched at whatever memory she was experiencing.

"I know, sweetheart," Edward said softly. "I know you're scared, but you don't have to be afraid anymore. You are safe. You're in your room, not wherever it is your mind is making you remember. Come back to me."

Edward's heart broke for the poor girl before him. He couldn't imagine everything she had been through. Sure, he had seen bits and pieces of her story from Alice and Jasper's minds, and had heard it from Carlisle when he had informed the family, but that didn't matter. This poor girl was terrified, and he could do nothing about it except sit here and talk to her. He would rather go kill Daniel Whyte, but he knew that wouldn't exactly be the wisest of choices.

Eleanor blinked a couple of times and looked at Edward, tears falling from her eyes. She pulled her hand out of Edward's, and crossed her arms across her chest, lowering her head and rocking slightly.

"Eleanor?" Edward's voice was soft.

Eleanor didn't answer. Instead, she sobbed quietly, moving her hands to cover her face.

Edward didn't know where the instinct came from, and he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but the next thing he knew, he found himself sitting next to Eleanor, pulling her into his arms, and rocking gently back and forth, mindful of her still braced right hand.

"Shh, it's just me," he soothed, as she startled at his touch. "I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," Eleanor whispered, tears still falling from her eyes.

Edward gently brought Eleanor's head to his shoulder and wiped away the tears with a cool thumb. He continued rocking back and forth, unsure of what else to do. He found himself humming a random melody that popped into his head as he rocked Eleanor. He could feel how stiff her body was and wasn't sure if he had done the right thing, until she slowly relaxed and stopped crying.

"Better?" Edward asked, once she was only dry sobbing.

Eleanor nodded. "Sorry," she muttered.

"For what?"

"I don't know what happened," Eleanor whispered.

"You were overwhelmed, that's all," Edward said. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry for not asking permission before touching you. I wasn't sure what to do though. You looked so upset. I didn't just want to sit back and watch. I wanted to help as best I could."

"Thank you," Eleanor said. "You did help. A lot."

"I'm glad," Edward said. "Eleanor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you aware you were hitting yourself?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Where?"

Edward lifted Eleanor's arm and touched the now dark bruise. Looking closely, he could see deep scratch marks that looked to match her nails running along her wrist and forearm. Taking her other arm into his hands, he could see even more scratches and what appeared to be bite marks. He frowned deeply, shaking his head.

"We need to have Carlisle look at this," he said.

"Does it look bad?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes," Edward said. "You also have some very deep scratches on your arm. Come on. He's in his office. Do you want to walk, or would you like me to carry you?"

"I feel very weak," Eleanor said. "The flashback took a lot out of me, and I'm still weak from the flu."

"All right," Edward said. He scooped Eleanor into his arms and carried her out of the room and into Carlisle's office.

"Hello Edward," Carlisle said, looking up from his book. "Eleanor. How can I help you?"

"I would like you to look at Eleanor's arms, please," Edward said. "I went to ask Eleanor if she wanted dinner, and when I walked in, she was hitting herself and didn't seem to be aware of it. Once she had calmed down and I took a closer look, I noticed some deep scratches as well as what I think are bite marks on her arms."

"Set her down on the sofa," Carlisle said, getting to his feet.

Edward gently laid Eleanor down onto the sofa and stepped back, allowing Carlisle to step forward.

"Let's see," Carlisle knelt next to the sofa and took Eleanor's arm into his hand. "Yes, I can see the scratches too"—he examined the other arm—"and the bite marks too. Eleanor, do you remember what you were doing before you started to have the flashback?"

Eleanor shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I didn't even know I had hurt myself."

"Have you ever hurt yourself before?" Carlisle asked.

"Um," Eleanor hesitated. "Yes. I would get bruises a lot and wouldn't remember how. Until one night. I was very frustrated, and I found myself punching and scratching my arm. After that, I caught myself doing it a lot."

"And the bite marks?"

Eleanor shook her head. "The only time I remember doing that was when I was really, really, really mad. I bit my hand and didn't stop until I could feel the pain from the bite."

Carlisle nodded. "Have you ever done any other forms of self-injury?" he asked.

"I've thought about it," Eleanor said after a few moments, "but it's always been scratching and hitting. And the occasional biting."

Carlisle nodded. "Just to clarify, you have never cut, burned, or otherwise harmed yourself?"

Eleanor shook her head. "I'm not crazy, I swear," she said. "I'm not even sure if scratching, hitting, or biting even counts as self-injury. Does it?"

"It most definitely does," Carlisle said. "Any action that is taken with the intent to harm yourself is considered self-harm. Biting and scratching are included."

"Even pinching?" Eleanor asked.

"Even pinching," Carlisle said. "You are intending to hurt yourself if you pinch yourself."

"Does it have to leave a mark to be considered self-harm? Eleanor asked.

Carlisle shook his head. "No, it does not," he said. If it causes pain or harm to the body, it counts. Some would even say that negative self-talk can be considered self-harm, as you are feeding yourself negative things that have an impact on your emotional state."

"Makes sense," Eleanor said.

"You said you have thought about going further with your self-injury?" Carlisle asked.

Eleanor nodded once more.

"Please come to me if you ever feel the urge to hurt yourself again," Carlisle said.

"It's instinctual," Eleanor said. "The scratching and hitting. It just… happens. I can't always control it."

"All right," Carlisle said. "If you feel like you want to harm yourself, and you are aware enough to realize it, come to me immediately, or, if I am not here, call me, and I will answer. When you do hurt yourself on instinct, you are more than welcome to come to my office if you need to talk. Hopefully, we can get you to find better coping mechanisms that can help you."

Eleanor nodded. "Thank you," she said. "I can't promise that I will, honestly."

"I understand," Carlisle said. "I wouldn't expect you to always come to me."

"I'll try though," Eleanor said.

"That is all I ask," Carlisle said. "Now, back to what happened earlier. It sounds as if you hurt yourself when having flashbacks. I cannot say for certain why that is, but it could be a way for your mind to try to snap out of the flashbacks. It could be that your subconscious is used to pain, and so creates pain for you to feel."

"Makes sense."

"Would you like to talk about what the flashback was?"

Eleanor shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "It's all fuzzy."

Carlisle looked to Edward, who had been standing off in the corner, and motioned him forward. "What can you tell me?" he asked.

"She said that she was scared, and that she was there," Edward said. "I'm not exactly sure where there is, but she was very scared. When she came out of it, she was crying. I didn't know what to do, so I pulled her into my arms. She was tense but relaxed after a while."

Carlisle nodded. "It's best to ask first before touching someone, especially someone who has been through trauma," he said.

"I know," Edward said, "but she wasn't responding when I called her name. Is it normal for people to forget their flashbacks?"

Carlisle nodded. "Their minds will often force the information back after a flashback so that they don't have to think about it," he said. "That is why therapists will often encourage their clients to either keep a journal with what they can remember, or they will encourage the client's loved ones to talk to them."

Just then Eleanor's stomach growled.

"Are you hungry?" Edward asked.

Eleanor shook her head. "Can't eat," she said. "Too weak and tired. And I feel nauseous."

Carlisle moved to his desk and grabbed his medical bag, rummaging through it.

"Is that necessary?" Edward asked.

Carlisle nodded.

"Is what necessary?" Eleanor asked with a cough.

"I'm starting you on an IV," Carlisle said, turning around. "You do not look good, and I am worried that you are not receiving the proper nutrients. I know we said we would wait until tomorrow, but that was before I realized just how much that flashback would take out of you."

Eleanor nodded. "Nothing new," she said. "I always got IVs when I was this sick. Only because of how Dan was, it would be much later, when I couldn't move, and I was constantly throwing up."

Carlisle shook his head. "Not here," he said. "You will have the medical treatment you need when you need it and no later."

"Why do you have the stuff for an IV ready?" Eleanor asked.

"I brought it back today," Carlisle replied. "Alice advised me that I would need it."

"Alice," Edward muttered.

"Alice," Carlisle said, standing. "Would you like to stay in your room, or downstairs, Eleanor?"

"Downstairs."

"Would it be all right if one of us carries you down?" Carlisle asked.

Eleanor nodded.

"Edward?" Carlisle asked. "I will carry the IV."

Edward moved to Eleanor's side and lifted her up into his arms, following Carlisle out the door. He laid her on the couch she had occupied earlier and tucked a blanket around her.

Carlisle wiped Eleanor's arm with an alcohol swab, then tapped it, looking for a vein.

"Good luck with that," Eleanor said. "My veins run from needles."

"I can see that," Carlisle said, grabbing a tourniquet and fastening it onto Eleanor's forearm. He tapped lightly, waiting for a vein to pop out. "Lucky for you, though, I have plenty of experience with runaway veins. Ah, yes. Found it."

Once the needle was inserted and the IV had been started, Carlisle stepped back and took a seat in a nearby chair.

"Where is everyone?" Eleanor asked.

"Emmett, Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper went hunting," Carlisle said. "Esme is in our room."

Eleanor nodded. "Carlisle, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Where are you from? I didn't notice it at first, but I can hear a very faint accent in your voice, and I can't place it."

Carlisle smiled. "I grew up in London, England," he said. "I was born in 1640."

"Wow," Eleanor breathed. "You're old!"

Carlisle chuckled. "Physically, I am 23. But I have been in existence for over 350 years."

"Like I said, old," Eleanor said.

"Would you like to eat anything?" Esme asked, entering the room.

"Try to eat something," Carlisle said, before Eleanor could protest.

"Do I have to?"

"No," Carlisle said, "but I'd like you to try, please."

Eleanor nodded, sighing slightly. "Fine," she said.

A few days later, Eleanor was well enough to visit Marie in the hospital again. She was still a little weak, but she was no longer contagious. Carlisle was still having her rest a lot, but she didn't mind all that much. She was just grateful that she could see her mother again. She hadn't been doing well, and Eleanor knew her time was limited now.

"Why couldn't you just turn her into a vampire?" Eleanor had asked Carlisle the night before. "Surely it can be done?"

"It can," Carlisle had said. "However, it is not something I would wish upon another, without their prior knowledge and consent, if I can help it."

"Then we ask her tomorrow," Eleanor said determinedly, unable to see the resigned look in Carlisle's eyes.

"Look who's back from the dead," Marie said, as Eleanor entered the room.

Eleanor smiled. "Hey Mom."

"I heard you were pretty sick. The flu, huh?"

Eleanor nodded.

"You just had the flu a few months ago."

"I know." Eleanor took a seat in the chair next to her mother's bedside. "I'm still a little weak, but I'm not contagious anymore, according to Carlisle. He's still making me rest, but I got to spend time with everyone, so that was fun."

"Sounds like fun," Marie said. "Who is this?"

Edward had just entered the room, carrying some drinks for the two girls—water for Marie and a hot chocolate for Eleanor. He set the tray on the bedside table, and moved to the corner of the room, so as not to disturb. At Marie's question, however, he stepped forward and stretched out his hand.

"Edward Cullen, ma'am," he said. "Pleased to meet you."

"What is with Carlisle's children calling me ma'am?" Marie laughed, shaking Edward's hand briefly.

"Old habits die hard," Edward muttered.

Eleanor snorted.

Silence descended over the small room for a few minutes, as Eleanor sipped her hot chocolate and Marie, her water, both lost in their thoughts.

"I don't understand," Edward said suddenly.

"What don't you understand?" Marie asked.

"I am usually quite good about reading others, and knowing what they are thinking," Edward said, "but I can't quite get a read on you, Marie."

"You can't read her mind either?" Eleanor asked, setting down her cup, wide-eyed.

"That's ridiculous," Edward said quickly. "No one can read minds."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly.

"Oh, bull," Marie said. "I know what you are Edward Cullen, as well as what certain members of your family can do."

"I beg your pardon?" Edward asked, glancing at Eleanor, who was grinning, completely relaxed with the unfolding situation.

"You can read the minds of others," Marie said. "Except Ellie's and my own, of course."

"Are you blocking him?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes," Marie replied simply.

"On purpose?"

"Yes, and no."

"Did you know?"

"I had a hunch."

"Pardon me," Edward said slowly, "but what on Earth are you two talking about?"

"You know exactly what I am talking about," Marie said. "Did you really think I didn't know you and your family are vampires?"

Edward stared at Marie, shocked, eyes wide. He turned his attention to Eleanor when he heard her giggle.

"Very tactful, Mom," Eleanor said. "Very tactful indeed."

Marie shrugged as Carlisle entered.

"What did I walk in on?" he said, eyeing Edward's shocked expression and Eleanor's grin.

"She knows about us," Edward said. "About our family."

Carlisle tilted his head. "How?"

"I have my ways," Marie said. "Now that you are here, though, I do need to ask you something. Again."

"What is it?" Carlisle asked.

Marie sighed. "I only have a few weeks left," she said. "I can feel it. I'm tired out more easily now. I'm weaker. I can't eat much. You and your family care so much for Eleanor, and I…. I was just wondering if…"

"You would like us to adopt her," Carlisle said. It wasn't a question.

Marie nodded. "Would that be all right, Eleanor?"

"We don't have any other family," Eleanor said, "and I like the Cullens. I don't see why it wouldn't be a problem, but wouldn't you rather be turned into a vampire instead? It can be done. Then you wouldn't have to die."

Marie shook her head sadly. "No," she said quietly. "It isn't in my future to become a vampire, Eleanor."

"But that can change," Eleanor said, sounding almost desperate now. "You can make it be part of your future."

Marie shook her head. "It is not for me," she said. "You will be fine. I know you will. You're an incredibly strong girl. After everything you've been through? You'll make it through this too. You said it yourself. You like the Cullens."

"I like you more though," Eleanor whispered.

Marie smiled. "I know, Ellie," she said. "I know."

"What about the others?" Elanor asked, turning to Carlisle. "Wouldn't you need to talk to the rest of the family?"

"I already have," Carlisle said, a kind smile on his face. "A while back. We just needed to ask your mother about it. But seeing as how she approached the topic first…"

Eleanor smiled sadly.

"I would like to ask another question," Marie said, after a few more moments of silence.

Carlisle turned to Marie.

"Can we press charges on Dan Whyte?"

Eleanor grinned. "Finally," she breathed.

"You've been wondering too?" Marie asked, turning to Eleanor, who nodded.

"I've been thinking about it," she said. "I hate him. I hate what he did to you. To me. He needs to go to jail for it. He needs to suffer. You should have heard what Carlisle said he'd like to do to him."

Carlisle chuckled. "Nothing too bad," he said. "I simply suggested I break every bone in his body and throw him down a fifty foot well."

Marie grinned. "Sounds fun," she said.

"I will contact the chief of police, Charlie Swan, as I know him personally," Carlisle said, grinning. "He will no doubt come and talk to both of you and get your statements. I will submit my recording to him as evidence. It will save you from having to be videoed for testimony, Marie, but I am not sure about you, Eleanor."

"That's fine," Eleanor said. "As long as my mom doesn't have to deal with it. She has enough to deal with as it is."

"Precisely," Carlisle said. "Shall I contact chief Swan now?"

Both Eleanor and Marie nodded in unison.

"Everything will be all right," Carlisle vowed as he left the room. "I'll make sure of it."