ES

(Wednesday Afternoon, July 10th)

"Where's Ben?" Adam irritably comments at the table.

"He didn't get to sleep until seven," Belle informs. "Let's let him rest."

"He needs to be eating," Adam asserts.

"And he will," she calmly responds. "I'll make sure of it."

He grumbles, and Belle turns back to the kids, "Evie. I want you to pick something."

She grimaces as she eyes over the greasy bacon, yolk eggs, and white, buttered toast, before she slowly replies, "I'm not hungry."

"Everyone is just so full all the time," Belle sighs, before she points her fork at the milk. "Drink some for me, please."

"Oh, no thank you," Evie smiles, as she eyes from the milk to her. "I'm not thirsty."

"Let me ask you something personal," Belle sets down her fork before staring her down. "When was the last time you got your period?"

"Oh, no," Evie grins. "I don't get that."

"You should be by now," Belle's eyes widen. "If you're not, it's because you're at such a low weight that your body thinks it wouldn't be able to carry a baby."

"Good." Evie counters, "I don't want kids."

"You say that now."

"I'll adopt," she solves.

"You're at high risk for bone loss," Belle sternly says, and Evie falters. "If you don't start eating right, you will be facing things you shouldn't need to worry about until your forties or fifties." Evie looks down. "You're seventeen. You have such a long life ahead of you. Do you really want to cripple the body you will need to survive?"

Evie eyes up and leans forward, "I'd rather be dead than fat."

"Evie," Mal sadly whispers.

"I," her mouth gapes, before she pleads to Belle, "I didn't mean that."

"That's it," Belle faces her. "If you're not going to eat, you're not going to have the privilege of participating in table talk." She nods to the hall, "You may go."

Evie sits for a long moment, holding her breath, "Yeah." before she stands from her seat.

After Mal watches Evie leave, she darts her eyes to Belle, "That's your brilliant plan, to leave her alone?"

"If she wants to be social," Belle reasons, "then she can come back and eat."

"But she won't." Mal yells, "You've just abandoned her. That voice is going to tell her no one cares about her but it and that it's the only one she can trust."

She frowns, "People keep mentioning this voice." and Mal shakes her head before abruptly standing from her seat and rushing after Evie.

Belle looks over at Carlos, "You talked about the voice before."

"Yeah." he unsurely responds.

"So," she prompts. "What is it?"

"What it sounds like," he points out.

"Explain, please," she sighs.

"I don't know." Carlos irritably responds, "A voice that tells her what to do." before he waves it off. "Ask Ben. He'll know."

She nods, "He did take that psychology class."

"Right. That too," Carlos remembers, before he points to the chocolate muffins. "Can I have those?"

"You can have one," she slowly warns, before she scans the table. "After you eat some eggs." She points, "There's scrambled eggs with ham, over easy, and deviled."

"Devil?" Carlos shocks.

"What?" Jay grins, as he waves one in front of Carlos's face. "Afraid Hades will want to deal with you personally?"

"No," he mumbles. "I'd just rather not meet Cerberus, is all."

Jay gives him a look, "I thought you got over your fear of dogs."

"It has three heads," Carlos panics, "and any one of them could eat me."

"The path to the afterlife is the same for everyone," Belle informs. "You don't reach Heaven or Hell until after the fates weigh your heart."

Carlos gives her a look, "Aren't you supposed to be an atheist?"

"No," Adam answers for her. "That's just Ben."

"Whatever doubts I had," Belle answers, "were vanquished with the discovery and imprisonment of Hades."

"Hades is a cool guy," Jay recalls. "When I was a kid, I'd steal food from his restaurant, and whenever he caught me, he handed me a bag of scraps on the way out the door."

"Yeah," Carlos drags. "What exactly did Hades do to get imprisoned?"

Belle gives him a look, "How about taking a girl from her family and holding her captive in his castle for three months each year?"

"You mean, kind of like what he did to you," Carlos points from Adam to her.

"That was different," Belle excuses. "My father and I trespassed onto his property, and the laws weren't as descriptive back then."

"But wouldn't they have been even less descriptive when Hades—" Jay shoves a muffin into Carlos's mouth, and he chews, "Okay." He manages to get it down, "I'm shutting up now."

Jay questions, "How does Ben explain the Greek gods?"

"Oh," Belle's brows raise. "They're not gods. They're just evolutionary mountain men."

"Sounds like Ben," Jay acknowledges.

"But it had to have come from somewhere," Carlos counters.

"Ben believes, as I once did," Belle explains, "that it's just something humans created to make themselves feel better; however, every religion is more or less the same. Even the ones that say there is only one God claim there are other gods."

"Charming's family believes God has visited different people in different forms," Adam continues. "So, it doesn't even contradict the, uh, Hind… What was that again?"

"Hinduism, dear," Belle answers.

"Right," Adam nods. "Ben just couldn't get past the whole slavery-genocide thing."

"Certainly not a God to be worshipped," Belle affirms, "but I am a true believer now."

Mal halts at the archway, when she notices Ben staring into the fridge, "Hey."

Ben glances at her before taking half a pound of hamburger from the fridge, "Hey."

"How far can I come in?"

He turns back to her, "Um." before eyeing the space between them. "Just… Stay behind the…" He points to the island counter and unsurely smiles, "Maybe?"

She nods and walks towards him, "Do we need to talk about yesterday?"

"No," Ben slowly answers, before he sighs and faces her. "Do you see this?"

Mal looks at the half roll of meat, "The hamburger?"

"It looks so gross," Ben complains, as he examines the blood stains in the Ziploc bag. "It's like it went bad or something."

She shakes her head, "Looks fine to me."

"I can't believe my mother said to have this," he continues, grabbing a pan before squeezing the hamburger into it and cutting it with the turner. He turns the heat on and tries to flatten the meat slices, "It's not squaring."

"Squaring?"

"See how thick it is?" he shows her. "It won't square."

"Oh," Mal laughs in realization. "You mean, squish."

Ben's eyes shift, "Whatever." before he refocuses on the hamburgers. "It looks weird."

"Ben," Mal's eyes widen. "I'm sure it will be fine."

He shakes his head, "There's no juice. It's all gone."

"It's still meat," Mal points out.

"It's not the same," Ben complains. "It's going to be dry and…" Mal watches him turn the thick burgers over, before she walks around the island counter. His eyes widen as he turns to her, "What are you doing?"

She takes a hamburger out of the pan and bites into it, "Ben." before she swallows it. "It's fine." She hands it to him, "Try it." and she tilts her head as she notices his eyes dilate. "Ben?" The turner falls from his hand to the floor, before he takes her hand, stares down her wrist, and wets his lips. "Ben," Mal warns.

"You smell so good," Ben whispers.

"Ben," Mal eyes over, "you're going to burn the hamburgers." He steps towards her, and she moves back, "Ben. Don't you want to check on them." He backs her against the corner counters, and she feels his breath on the right of her neck. "You're going to make a fire." Her eyes widen when he sucks on her jugular, and she drops the hamburger, pressing him away from her. He tightens his grip on her, she sees her vision change to inferred, and she manages to push him off. He steps towards her, and she slaps him.

He steps back, seething, before he reaches for his warm cheek and sees the blood on his fingers. "Mal?" Ben sadly says, before he offers her his shining puppy eyes.

Mal looks over him, whispering, "I'm sorry." before running out of the room.

Ben eyes down, sighing as he picks up the dropped burger, moves to toss it into the pan, and turns the pan over the garbage can to discard of the burnt meat. "Ugh." The pan bangs down on the back burner, and Ben leans on the counter as he places his face into his hand. He's messed up, and he messed up bad.

"Mal?" Belle places her hands on her shoulder to stop her in the hall. "What's wrong?"

"I—" Mal turns back towards the kitchen, heavily breathing.

"Honey," Belle places a hand to Mal's head, and when she turns back, she cautiously examines her glowing green eyes. "It's okay, Mal. Just breathe."

"I— He—"

"Breathe for me," Belle instructs, and as Mal's breathing settles, her eyes fade to jade. "Now," she eyes her, "what happened?"

"Ben," Mal points towards the kitchen. "He—"

"Mal," she gasps, as she takes her hand.

She darts her eyes from the blood on her nails to her, "I think Ben might need a good dinner, like a steak or something?"

"Are you saying he tried to hurt you?" Belle clarifies.

She shakes her head, "I really don't want to talk about it." before she crosses her arms.

"I knew that Ben's appetite has been increasing," she sighs, "but I didn't think—"

"What?" Mal's eyes widen. "That it was this bad?"

"I'll talk to him," Belle reassures, as she places a hand to the back of Mal's shoulder. "Just go to your room. I can take care of this." She watches her eyes shift, "Mal?"

She sniffles, "I was just really wanting milk."

"Do you want me to get the milk for you?"

She shallowly breathes, "You don't have to."

"I'm going in there, anyway," Belle reminds her. "Just tell me, Whole or fat free?"

"Whole?" Mal's voice shakes.

"Okay," she smiles. "I'll get you a nice, big glass. Alright?"

"Yeah," Mal nods.

She lightly pushes on her back, "I'll meet you in a minute." Mal trudges into the room, and Belle strides down the hall, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. "Ben?" He hesitantly turns, and she steps towards him. "Honey," she sadly breathes, as she gestures to the claw marks on his cheek.

He eyes away from her, "I think I might have tried to eat a cat…"

"Looks like the cat wasn't too fond of that," Belle raises her eyebrows, as she brushes her hand over the cuts; however, when he seethes and turns his head down, she takes a step back. "Honey. What happened?" He shakes his head. "I got Mal's side. I want to hear yours."

"I don't know what happened." Ben widens his eyes at her, "Okay? The hamburger wasn't right, her wrist was in my face, and…" His head lowers, and his voice quiets, "I lost it. I completely lost it." He gulps, tears intruding his eyes, as he faces her, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Ben," she evenly responds. "It's okay. Just tell me what you need." What he needs? He shakily breathes as the tears flow and sting the cuts. He doesn't know what he needs, but whatever he needs, it's all of it. "Honey?" He looks up at her, but then his eyes move down her curls to her neck. He pushes her to the island counters, and his heart pounds as he holds her, bites into her soft skin, and the sweet cantaloupe flows into his mouth. "Ben!" He breaks from his thoughts and meet her eyes again. "Are you hearing me?" she asserts.

"Um," Ben bides time.

"It's okay to ask for help," she reminds him. "All you need to do is ask."

"Ask?" he unsurely responds.

"Of course," she answers. "We're here for you. I'm sure even Mal would help."

"Really?" he surprises.

"Well, as a carnivore, she would have a good excuse to go to the butcher for you," his mother mentions. "We could give her a list and some money, and she could go for you."

Ben takes a minute, "The butcher shop is on main street."

"So?"

"So," Ben thinks, "so is the wine store. Is it really a good idea to send an alcoholic down there with that much money?"

Belle nods, "It's something we would need to discuss, certainly." Ben doesn't speak, and she suggests, "Next time Mrs. Potts goes down there, we can add blood to her list. If anyone asks, she can say it's just for some traditional recipe."

"Traditional recipe?" Ben doubts.

"Well, I can't think of any French ones at the moment," she acknowledges, "but there's at least half a dozen German ones she can claim to try."

"Mother." Ben meets her brown eyes, "I really don't want to talk about this."

"It needs to be talked about," she frowns. "What you just did to Mal—"

"Won't happen again," Ben finishes

"Ben," she begins.

"I promise you," he widens his eyes, "I'm fine." He lets out a breath and glances off, "I just need…" He frowns at her, "I need a little space. Can't I just have that?"

She takes a moment, "If you need to eat—"

"Then I'll write it on the calendar," he sternly finishes.

Belle nods, "Alright, then. If you've got that handled…"

Ben watches her walk over to the fridge, "What are you doing?"

"Mal wanted milk," she answers.

He watches her pour it into the large glass, "You know I didn't mean to?"

She puts the milk away, picks up the glass, and faces him, "You have to remember where she comes from, Ben. If you love this girl, you will treat her respectfully, because you will not get a second chance with her. She's been abused before. She won't let it happen again."

Ben glances down, "She's not my girlfriend."

"And she's not going to be your friend much longer either," Belle remarks, "if you keep acting like this to her."

"I'm sorry," Ben whispers.

"Don't be sorry," she counters. "Be better. Remember, actions speak louder than words." He lowers his head, unable to find any, and she retreats from the kitchen down over into the hallway before knocking on Mal's door. There's no response, and Belle slowly opens the door. There's no one inside, but the bathroom door hangs open, and she sets the milk onto the bedside table before nearing the sniffling sound. "Mal?" she questions, before she opens the door more and sees her in her underwear, lying in the pink water. "God. Mal!"

She kneels in front of the tub, and Mal tiredly looks at her, "Belle?" She gets the first aid kit from under the sink and takes the gauze out of it. "What's wrong with me?"

Belle wraps the white cloth over the laceration on Mal's right wrist, "What do you mean?"

"There's something about me," she whispers. "Guys… That's all I am: some slut."

She shuts her eyes, and Belle stresses, "Mal. Stay awake."

"Mal?" Ben rushes over to her, "Mal? What did you do?"

Mal moves her uncovered wrist towards him, as she places a hand to his cheek, "Take me. I know you want to."

He grips her wrist, "No, Mal. I want you to live." but his stern expression falls when the dizzying scent hits him hard with a stab to the stomach.

Belle hears it growl, "Call ES." but when Ben releases Mal's wrist, he stares at the blood on his hand. She finds a washcloth, wiping his hand clean, and when he faces her, she seriously meets his eyes, "Call ES, now."

He stands and turns back into the bedroom, pressing the symbol on his cellphone, before he hears the automated message and the man answers, "This is ES."

"Yes," he hurriedly replies. "This is King Ben. My girlfriend is hurt." He turns back to the bathroom, "She lost a lot of blood."

"Are you at the castle?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he calmly comments. "Emergency Services is on the way. Can you tell me what happened?"

"She—She," he shakily breathes. "She cut herself, and…"

"Where did she get cut?"

"I—" His mind is blank, and he gulps as he sees her slowly fading. "Under her hand."

"On her hand?" he questions.

"No. Under," Ben asserts, before he speedily says, "Her wrists. She cut her wrists in the bath. You need to help her."

"Hold on." Ben's breathing increasing, and the tears intrude his eyes as he hears, "Does anyone know French. It's the king."

"King Ben," the new speaker comments in French. "This is Ethan."

"My girlfriend needs help," Ben worries.

"Emergency Services are on the way," he reassures. "Is she conscious?"

Ben hears Mal mutter to his mother, "I think so."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

He shakes his head, "She cut her wrists. My mother wrapped them."

"Is she suicidal?"

"It's my fault," Ben whimpers. "She wasn't comfortable with it, and I did it anyway."

He pauses, "My king, are you saying you sexually assaulted your girlfriend?"

"Please, help her," Ben pleads.

"ES is almost there," Ethan informs. "Can you give a specific location?"

"We're in the West Wing," he manages. "How long 'til you get here?"

"We're one minute out," he answers. "They should arrive any second."

Ben moves back into the bathroom, sets his phone down, and takes a towel from the rack. "What are you doing?" his mother asks.

"Get up," he instructs.

"Excuse me?"

"They can't see her like this," he asserts. "Get up."

Belle stands up and gets out of the way, as she watches Ben spread the towel down on the floor, move Mal from the tub to the towel, and wrap the blue fabric over her. Mal's eyes are shut, as though asleep. "She's lost so much blood."

"Don't remind me," Ben bypasses, before he picks her up and carries her through the door. He hears slams and stomps, "They're here."

"They're not going to have her blood type," his mother worries, and he gapes at her. "She's the only member of her species, and she's coldblooded. There's no way to tell how a transfusion would take."

"In here," Ben hears the medic, and he watches as the two enter the room. "Set her down on here."

Ben places Mal on the gurney, and the man questions, "Are you riding with?"

"Yes," Ben's eyes widen.

"Follow us."

Ben looks at his mother, and she nods to the door, "Go. I'll meet you there."

"Bring Evie," Ben stresses, before his mother nods again and he follows the medics out.