21

Bella hid in her room until she was sure Edward was gone, taking Emmett and Rose with him. She couldn't bear seeing him off, knowing that if she stood there and watched him leave, she'd chase after him and beg him to let her go. And she couldn't. Bella Swan was no longer a ghost. She could no longer hide in plain site as Anna Mason. The entire world knew the hell she'd thrust herself into, the pain she invited onto herself. But they didn't know, not really.

So instead if begging Edward to take her away, she curled up in the corner of her room, trying to ignore the pain radiating through her body from the bullet wound in her shoulder, and ignoring the memories that flashed through her head. The feel of Cullen's hands on her, his breath, the pain as he forced himself inside her again and again. Hearing Garrett's story, knowing he could have prevented her from going through that hell should have pissed her off, but it didn't. And she couldn't explain why. She was just numb to everything. Maybe Cullen had broken her after all.

Someone knocked on the door to her room, just before she heard Aro's voice call out, "Bella, sweetheart, are you in there?"

She should have answered him, but she found herself unable to respond, unable to take comfort in the man who had become just as much her grandfather as he was Alice's. He loved her, took care of her, but she hadn't been strong enough for him. So, instead, she stayed crotched down on the floor, silently letting her tears fall, letting her pain be her reminder of the hell she'd thrown herself into.

—BR—

Bella lost track of how long she had been curled up in the corner of her room when the door got forced open and Jasper and Garrett rushed inside. She should have expected them to come bursting into her room: they, along with Aro, had come knocking numerous times, begging and pleading with her to come out, to talk to them. How could she when everything was crumbling down around her?

They stopped in the doorway when they saw her sitting in the corner, knees pulled up to her chest. Maybe they could see the fear in her eyes, or maybe not.

"Go away," she whispered, unable to keep the tremor from lacing her words.

"No can do, Swan," Garrett said, taking two steps toward her but stopping when she screamed and slid up the wall. "Hey, calm down."

"Go away," she said again. "Please, just go away!"

"We can't let you lock yourself away like this, Bella," Jasper said, moving so that he and Garrett were blocking her way out of the room.

Panic started to rise inside her. This was her penance for her sins, for letting herself become a whore. "Go away. Please, fucking go away!"

"Edward made us promise to keep you from closing yourself away," Jasper explained, putting his hands up. "Besides, we need your help."

"With what?" she asked, blowing out a deep breath.

"We're trying to track who leaked it to the press that you are still alive, but we're stuck. We . . . Edward said you could help," Jasper explained.

"I . . ." Bella shook her head. "Um, can't you just bring me my laptop here? I can . . . I can, I don't know, work from here."

"Not gonna happen, Swan," Garrett scoffed. "You ain't hiding away in here."

Bella pressed her lips together as she considered her options. It was just like Edward to leave behind instructions for his henchmen. He was the one who sent them to babysit her in the first place. Just one more way he didn't trust her, not that she blamed him. She had just added another name to her list of victims.

"Fine," she groused. "Just, um, give me a minute to, you know, collect myself."

Though she could tell they were reluctant, they nodded and stepped out of the room, leaving the door open. Bella knew better than to close it. Instead, she tried to calm her racing heart and walked over to the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Dark circles encased her eyes, her skin was pale, her lips dry and chapped. She had never been the most beautiful woman in the room but she had never hated the way she looked. Yet, now, she appeared tired and worn. Older than her nineteen years. Tears filled her eyes and she pushed away from the sink, unable to see the soulless monster reflecting back at her.

Garrett and Jasper were waiting for her in the hallway. However, instead of following them down to the command center, she turned and started running in the opposite direction. Someone grabbed her arm, and when she spun around, she brought her knee up, hitting Jasper squarely between his legs.

"Fuck," he groaned, released her, and dropped to his knees, clutching himself.

"Sorry," she mumbled, but took off again.

She could hear Garrett trying to follow, but she ran harder, faster, trying like hell to get away. A left and then a right, and she slid into a small room, slamming the door closed behind her. Looking around, she found herself on a landing to a staircase, that led both upwards and down. Sliding to the floor, she tried to keep from screaming, from crying, from living.

"Is he after you, too?"

Bella snapped her eyes open and scrambled to her feet and moved so that she was looking over the railing to the flight of stairs below her, where Alice was seated. "What are you doing here?"

"Hiding," she murmured, tightening her arms around her knees. "I don't like it here. I want to go back to the ranch."

"Me, too." Bella walked down the stairs and sat next to Alice.

"I heard them talking," Alice whispered. "About you. About her. About you killing her."

Bella felt her shoulders tense.

"Is it true?" Alice asked.

"It is," she confessed. "I had to, though. I . . ."

"Mistress liked her," Alice said, speaking quietly. "I wasn't a good girl, like her."

"I wasn't either."

"When can we go back to the ranch? I miss the horses," she murmured, but before Bella could answer, the door above them opened with a loud creak, and Alice whimpered as she scrambled to her feet and started down the steps. "He's coming. Hurry, Bella, run!"

"Alice, wait!" Bella cried out as she tried to follow, but before she could get down more than a flight of stairs, her foot slipped off one step and fell, hard.

She rolled at least a dozen times before stopping, her wounded shoulder slamming against the wall of the next landing down. Groaning, she tried to keep from crying out, but the pain radiating through her was too much.

"Jesus, Swan," Peter grumbled as he knelt next to her. "We've been looking for you everywhere. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bella groused, trying to push him away, but he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her off the ground. "Put me down."

"I don't think so," he scoffed, and turned and carried her back up the stairs she had just fallen down.

Ignoring her, he carried her down the hallway to a small medical bay, setting her on a cold, metal examination table that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a dozen years.

Bella tried to regulate her breathing as Peter rummaged through the drawers, pulling out packages of gauze and antiseptic wipes. "We really don't need to do this. I'm fine."

"Humor me," Peter said, giving her a smile. "Edward will have my ass if I let something happen to you. That was a hard fall you took. I need to make sure you didn't bust open the stitches keeping your shoulder closed."

"I'm fine," she said again as she watched him wash and dry his hands. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves before walking over to her. "Why don't you practice medicine anymore?"

"I do," he said, helping her slip her arm from her T-shirt. The urge to lash out at him was stronger than she'd like. "I just don't do it with an actual license to practice."

"Why'd they take your license away?"

Peter peeled the bandage off her chest and tossed the bloody rag into a trash bin. "They tend to do that when you kill a man."

"Who'd you kill?"

"You ask a lot of personal questions," he tittered as he cleaned her wound.

Bella didn't reply.

"He was brought in with a hole from where his dick used to be. His five year old son shot him after the bastard tried to sneak into his bedroom . . . again."

"A . . . again?" Bella stammered.

Peter nodded and angled his body so that he was facing her as he checked her stitches. "The police told us that the boy had found his father's gun to protect himself. Five years old and felt the need to arm himself against the one person who was supposed to protect him." Peter pressed down on her wound, causing her to hiss in pain. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Bella gritted out between clinched teeth. "So he shot his father and you what? Just let him bleed out?"

"Basically," Peter said, taking a step backward and folding his arms in front of his chest. "The bullet had splintered and a piece started moving upward toward his heart. We rushed him to the OR, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything. My boss tried to force me to operate, tried to barge into my OR and do it himself, but I locked him out, locked everyone out, and stood there while he bled out and died."

"And lost your medical license in the process," Bella murmured. "Did you go to prison?"

"I was charged with medical malpractice and manslaughter, but I was acquitted on all charges after the little boy testified about what his father had been doing to him. His mother also testified on my behalf, said I'd saved her little boy from a life of hell."

"Was it worth it?" Bella asked. "Sure you didn't go to prison, but you can't legally practice medicine. Was it worth losing everything you worked for?"

"Yes," he said, moving back toward her. He picked up a syringe and inserted it next to the skin next to her gunshot wound. "People like him make it harder for the rest of us. There are rules, limits in this life, Bella, which must be respected."

"Rules?" she mumbled as dizziness swirled around her. She shifted her eyes toward Peter, who had a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "What . . . What'd you do?"

"Just gave you a little something to help you relax," he said, frankly. "You've created quite the mess for me to clean up, Isabella."

"Mess?" Bella slurred, trying to scoot off the table, but Peter wrapped his arm around her, keeping her place. "Don't touch me, Peter!"

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispered, bringing his lips down against her ear. "You can call me Sandman."

A cry for help died in her throat as her eyes closed and darkness swept her away.