Chapter 27: Milked for Blood (part 1)
We recognize each other when he peers into my truck. He was stumbling on the side of the road. His back was curved and his footing looked painfully unsteady. I made the mistake of getting closer.
I could hit the gas and keep going. It's dangerous to slow down. I don't have to stop. All I have to do is turn my head, look away, and drive.
I slowly roll down the passenger window. I ask him, "Are you dying?"
"Kind of." His feet have stopped their endless trek.
My eyes land on his bloody hand clutching the lapels of his sports coat. He's been hurt badly. I would be wrong to leave him here. It would be cruel to be left for dead.
His pitiful face is haunting. He looks completely drained.
"What are you doing out here?" I can only be so stupid.
He looks between the truck and the direction I came from. "I had to make a run for it and got lost?" He says it as if he's not exactly sure what happened.
My head tilts in disbelief. "Why is it that you find me every time you get lost?" Are you ever really lost?
He shrugs his slumped shoulders."I don't know? I get lost a lot. Which is crazy because there's like one long fucking road in this town. And you found me this time, not the other way around." He searches my face with deviance, "Were you looking for me?"
Sadly yes, I need you to help me. I need you to help Jake. Would you prefer that I held you hostage? Should I let you bleed out in my truck while I read you my list of demands?
I sharply inhale when he puts his face to the window. The shadow from the cab cast a spotlight on the sun playing with the copper highlights in his hair.
"I would ask for directions but, I'm still new around here so..." He licks his dry lips, eyes darting around our surroundings. "Could you offer a helping hand?" When he's as close as he can get, he leans on the door for support.
"Why should I offer you a 'helping hand'? Can't I just be a passerby?" Can't I be selfish and heartless in the right moments?
"You could but what's the harm in being a Good Samaritan?"
The pressure to make a decision sets fire to my cheeks in the wet air. Why not try retracing your steps? Go back to where you're running from and try again. This feels like I'll be running with you.
I unclench my teeth and open the passenger door. He struggles to climb inside. My nose hairs crawl when the blood on his hand smears on the door handle.
His hand flings erratically like a dramatic thespian. "You're my hero, Bella." His breathless testimony oozes from his slow-moving lips, "I didn't want you to see me like this. This is kinda embarrassing."
I turn the heat vents toward his shaking form. "I thought I was just a Good Samaritan."
"Yeah that too, but I've been thinking about you and then you appear like a saving grace. I call that a hero." The blood loss must have his brain in a loop. His presence is feather-light, unlike his usual thick static. He's a ghost.
"Maybe you're right. I am risking everything to save your life." I look around the highway for oncoming traffic. "You should put your seatbelt on. Maybe put some more pressure on the bleeding."
"You should put your seatbelt on." His painful laugh makes him clutch his stomach.
I bite the air between us, hoping to burst the bubble of his delusions. He bites back almost instantly.
"Where am I taking you? Home, a hospital?" No need to waste time.
"A restaurant."
My eyebrows raise to my hairline then lower to my lashes."Oh, so the morgue. You're bleeding out and you want to eat?" My foot is just moments away from letting up on the gas.
His laughing sounds like gurgling before he explains, "No, nobody's home. I need you to take me to my dad. There's an old Italian restaurant near the port."
"Port Angeles? Are you gonna last that long? My truck can't go very fast."
"Don't worry, I can go all night. I'll pay for gas too." His brows flicker with his terrible innuendo.
I look away from his messy appearance and start heading towards the port on a one-way ticket to hell.
I do this to myself really, the suffering. I promised to bend to Jake's will. Before I left I kissed him and told him I was ok. We were ok. We are ok and then this happens.
It's always the end of the world for me, slammed back face-first into the dirt and grime. Last night I barely slept just thinking about how long I'll have to pay for my mistakes. How much will be forced upon my baby? How long will I be seen as an underhanded liar?
With four hours of sleep, classes were like playing musical chairs with white noise. Whispering about the man that picks me up. How scary he looks when he's driving me around in his car. Who he is and what he wants from me. If he pays me for my services since I stopped working at the diner. Everyone at school seems so small now. Ants hopelessly roaming for sweet gossip.
A car speeds up in the next lane, blaring its horn. The tinted windows are let down to reveal the mystery driver. It's Leah's younger brother, Seth, telling me to pull over.
I get over on the shoulder and watch him run towards my truck through my side-view mirror.
He signals for me to "let the window down. Bella, where—" He takes one look at the passenger side before running his hands through his hair. "What the fuck are you doing?" He must've seen all the blood on Edward's jacket because, "Jesus Christ, Bella! What the hell are you thinking?"
"He obviously needs help. What was I supposed to do?" I look over at Edward who's dimly waving a bloody hand at a stressed Seth.
"You've got to be kidding. Dump him. If Jake or Sam sees you—"
"That's what I'm doing! Please don't tell Jake. I'll tell him myself. Don't tell anybody. I'm just dropping him off."
"The fuckin' hospital is that way." He points in the opposite direction.
"You know he can't go to a hospital. His dad is a doctor. I'm taking him to his dad and you're wasting precious time. I'm just trying to help." My explanation sounds weak and poorly executed.
"Why are you doing this?" He shakes his head over and over. "You know Jake won't see it that way. You know the elders are waiting for you to mess up."
I look into his eyes silently pleading. I can fix this. I can make this right.
"Hurry up and get back. I didn't see anything, but if Jake finds out you're not in Forks, you're on your own. I'm not lying for you."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." My prayer hands rest on my lips.
He's back in his car and speeding off in the opposite direction.
"You're doing the right thing." Edward readjusts himself in the passenger seat.
"Of course, you think that. I'm helping you." I merge back into the lane, pushing my truck as fast as it'll go.
"Look I'm not telling you this to change your mind about me or sway you in some direction. Just make sure it's your decisions and judgment that tell you who's right and who's wrong because I'll tell you this; it's very few times I've ever come up with a clear conclusion of who's good and who's bad."
"So I'm supposed to trust you because you've been doing this for a long time? I should be at ease while I add this to my list of crimes committed? First, it was accessory to Mike's murder, well attempted murder. Now it's aiding and abetting since I'm probably driving a getaway car. I'm thinking, everyone can't be wrong. I should run every time I see you."
He snorts at my remark, "Let's get this straight, you have never witnessed an attempted murder, not even close. And nobody keeps a list, Bella. We aim to forget, not keep track. As for you, well, I can't help that you're a danger magnet. You were already headed down this path long before I got here. Did you forget who your boyfriend is?"
"I don't see how that means anything. It still happened both times with you. All the friction in my life is because of you." I've been trying to convince everyone that I don't know you. All this started because I lied to the wrong person. "When it comes to being involved with you, semantics don't mean anything. Do you know how many times I've told the same lie?" I've been lying to Jake because of you. I've been lying to my husband.
"It means we don't work to keep track of remorse and guilt or shame. The 'crime' just becomes a means to an end. We don't blame our actions on others. We do what we want and worry about the fallout later. Who wants to hesitate before they pull the trigger? The properties of a criminal remain the same. All of us lie, cheat, and steal. Your boyfriend is no different or any better. You're not mad at me for being me, you're mad at yourself. This is about how your temptations became your transgressions."
No, I have it right. I'm mad at you. "You forced your transgressions on me." I don't like who I am when I'm with you. That's why I lie about ever crossing paths with you. I'm planning on begging you to fix something that only happened because of you. I am genuinely beginning to hate you. I'm beginning to hate myself more.
Somehow we made it to Rocco's before the sky turned black. I was careful not to look at him until it was time to brace his fall out of the truck.
"Have you ever been here before? I have a feeling you'll like it here." His smug expression repels me.
"No, I don't frequent tablecloth restaurants," I bite back. Was that your attempt at a pickup line?
"Not many people know about it, a hidden gem of sorts."
I appraise the vintage sign. "Maybe for older people. Most of us go to Bella Italia."
"You know what, I think you're right. Make sure you grab wine candy and a matchbook on your way out."
We almost trip on the uneven pavement in the parking lot. I'm ready to push him over myself. He's swaying and losing his balance.
I almost twist my ankle when he leans forward too much."Don't put all your weight on me!"
"I'm trying." His stupid expensive shoes drag across the pavement.
"We're both gonna fall if you keep it up!"
We squeezed through the entrance together and almost tripped four more times on the way to the round booth in the back. The sign out front was really the preamble. The vintage vibes reach the decor of the inside. Floral wallpaper and wood accents, forest green, and old cream color palette from the carpet down to the table arrangements. However, the place is in pristine condition.
"Nobody's here." All you can hear in the dining room is noise coming from the kitchen.
"Dinner starts at five. They're closed during lunch to prepare." Edward plops down beside me in the booth.
I feel closed in by the table and his dead weight. "So you're just gonna lean on me all day, huh?" His weight on my side makes my spine curve and protest. I fidget and reposition my hips on the cushion.
"Let me enjoy the moment. My left side is fucked." He straightens up slightly, pulling some of his weight away. He reaches unsteadily across the table and grabs a dark green serviette to hold over his wounds.
A waiter in a pinstripe waistcoat and bow tie comes to our table. His calm expression at the sight of blood makes me think Edward told a fib, this was never an ordinary restaurant. "Good evening, . Will you be staying for dinner and cocktails with your lovely guest?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, we will. Call in the good ol' medical cocktail and the menu should suffice."
The waiter hands me the heavy menu, expectantly waiting for my order.
Edward's ashen lips part, his breath touching my neck when he speaks, "Bella, order everything you want."
"I'm not staying. I have to get back to Forks." I hand the menu back to the kind gentleman.
"You're gonna be here as long as they're cleaning my blood out of your upholstery."
Another waiter comes to the table with hot towels for both of us. He neatly pries the car keys from my hand.
I'm left defenseless and forced to surrender. "Fine, I'll have garlic bread, the best pasta you've got, and whipped cream on the side."
"Very well, signorina. Mr. Cullen, I'll let your father know his medical assistance is needed."
The waiter doesn't return until he's ready to serve us much more than I ordered. Three large bar trays of sweet and savory dishes are endlessly arranged on the table with the main dishes closest to us. Pasta, potato dishes I've never eaten before, huge cannolis, assorted biscotti and slices of fragrant breads, chocolate cake, a mountain of cream, calamari, and some sort of lasagna. It goes on in an overwhelming spiral of saucers and serving dishes.
"Feed me," Edward leans towards my frozen fork with his mouth gaping and his eyes listless.
I raise an eyebrow at his intimate command.
"I'm dying, remember? I can't take pain pills on an empty stomach." His mouth opens even wider, absolutely shameless.
I stuff his expectant mouth with handmade pasta almost feeling pity at the sight of his sallow, green complexion. I watch him chew carefully before taking my first bite.
"Would you believe me if I said I was just about to break down and call you today?" I stayed up all night thinking about whether or not I was going to do it. I thought about telling Jake, but I didn't. I thought about giving him your phone card but something told me I had to ask you myself.
"I knew you couldn't resist me." His cheeks raise when his lips turn up at the corners.
"But I didn't want to." It was fate. You fell right into my lap. As if I was supposed to bargain with you today. I lied to Jake, to everyone, just to turn around and expose myself to you. I have to make a deal with you, no one else.
"Don't be too hard on yourself. It was only a matter of when not if." His pale smile flashes in deep contrast to his bloody clothes. "Why do you think I gave you my number?"
For the same reason I accepted it and continue to keep it safely tucked away. "Probably to haunt me. To provoke anxiety and nightmares in my dreams and reality. To make me believe that I'll be so desperate one day, that I'll need to call. It was all to make me feel like I'll need you on a rainy day." You prayed for the day I'd be caught without an umbrella.
His brow raises as he laughs at my reasoning, "Ooh, that's cold!"
"Not really, it rains almost every day here." You knew that. Which is why you expected me to call much sooner. If not you, then the rain would wear me down.
I felt like this chapter was endless so it's been split into 2… I probably should've held part 2 but I didn't want to be mean. Thanks for reading and enjoy part 2!