A/N: Sorry for such a delay in updating. My goal is to update once a week, but it's been an intense week for me and I had no time to write or edit. Thank you for being patient!
Answers to a few reviews: as of now, I only intend to write in Edward and Bella's POV. I might do Jacob and others characters as they become more relevant in the story but that's not currently on the agenda. This will be a HEA but it's going to take time to get there, especially with all the twists and turns I have weaved into the plot!
Trigger warnings: memories of assault, injuries from assault, discussion of being drugged/Rohypnol
Please let me know what you think in your reviews!
Chapter 4 – Home (BPOV)
My vision is clearer when I've opened my eyes. I look over, opening my mouth to ask Carlisle a question but he's not there. In fact, the entire room is illuminated in sunlight dulled by heavy clouds when I was sure it had been dark when I closed my eyes.
"Bells," Charlie's gruff voice grasps my attention. I automatically turn toward his voice, cringing as the movement sent spasm of pain down my neck. He was sitting in a vinyl chair, his expression a mask of grief.
My chest clenches tightly.
"How do you feel?" He ask.
I barely hear his words. I'm looking at his face. His eyes are surrounded by deep bags, his hair tousled, his skin pale. He looked sickly.
"I'm fine, Dad." I whisper. "You look tired."
Charlie laughs curtly. "Don't take care of me, Bells. That's not your job." He sighs, breathing shakily. "That's my job. . . I'm supposed to take care of you."
My stomach feels as if someone punched me. . . Or someone pressed their knee into me. While holding my hands down and ripping my clothes off.
I exhale sharply, feeling my lungs collapse under the pressure in my chest.
"You okay?" Charlie's voice is distant. "Bells?"
"I'm fine." I wasn't. My heart is flying. Each beat jolts grief through my body.
"You look sick. . ." Charlie's voice is muffled. "Esme's in the hall."
Esme. Edward's beautiful, caramel-haired mother.
Esme was the sweetest, most kind person I had ever met. She was incredibly loving and nurturing to everyone. She was every bit of stability I wanted but never got from my immature, hair-brained mother.
But Esme's disappointment, though hard to receive, was entirely crushing. Emmett always laughed whenever he got scolded by Esme. He found it amusing at times when he and Jasper got into trouble for their betting. But this wasn't as trivial as a bad bet made with my brother. This was my commitment to Edward and my inability to protect myself.
Esme and Edward were old-fashioned. Did the two of them value my purity the way others did during their time? I knew Edward did. There was no other reason for him to demand marriage before something as personal and intimate as sex or changing me.
I had no time to tell Charlie whether or not I was accepting of Esme's visit before she quietly dances through the half-opened door of my room.
"Bella," her voice was so soft. "I'm so happy you're awake, dear." She walks over to me, her voice a mask of softness and motherly affection. She sits down next to me, her hand finding mine. Her diamond wedding ring twinkles in the dim-lit room. It was a beautiful ring with a sophisticated white diamond set between numerous other smaller ones. The band was twisted white-gold resembling the infinity sign.
I once asked her about it. She smiled happily, then, telling me Carlisle had asked her to marry him just one year after she had been changed. They had both been dancing around each other, she'd told me, absolutely in love with the other but too afraid to admit it. Carlisle was worried it would scare her, and Esme was self-conscious of the lasting crush she had on him.
I remember being slightly envious of her and her invincible marriage with Carlisle, their incredible ever-lasting love. My parents weren't like that. They'd been divorced before I was even two. Edward and I had a strong, yet complicated, relationship that I often feared was on shattering glass.
I glance at Charlie. He's standing near the door, unsure.
"Are you anxious, dear?"
"I'm fine." Those were the only words I could muster. Edward always said I was a terrible liar, but maybe that was just because he knew me so well. Edward was inhumanely good at reading people. Maybe Esme wasn't.
A flash of blonde sends my eyes streaking toward the door. Carlisle was here, too.
"How are you feeling, Bella?" Carlisle asks.
Would Edward touch me knowing someone else had?
Carlisle had asked me something. My mind was hazy just trying to remember it. I don't think I ever answered him. He moves silently toward Esme, flashing to her side before I've blinked. I glance around quickly, worried that Charlie will see. He wasn't here anymore.
Where did Charlie go?
Esme squeezes my hand, and I yank it back.
"Don't." I hiss.
"How are you feeling, dear?" Esme's face falls slight, but her voice is soft.
My head was throbbing. So was my chest. And as I thought about my pain, the more I became aware of it. My neck was sore and stiff propped against the low pillows. My ribs ached, and as breathed in and out, my whole chest pulsed with pain. In fact, so much of my body ached with the movement of my shallow breaths. My stomach ached too, though I had no idea why. It just hurt. But what scared me the most was the deep, pulsing pain between my legs.
I didn't want to think about that pain. I didn't want to think about how much it hurt or what he did to me or what he said to me while he did it.
Maybe Esme didn't know what happened to me there, maybe that's why she had to ask.
She was here, which meant she wasn't banishing me from her family nor delivering the news of impending removal from Edward's life. She wasn't disappointed or disgusted with me yet.
My eyes skip from Esme's to Carlisle's and back again.
It's too quiet. I almost wish the beeping on the heart monitor was still here.
The diamond on Esme's hand flickers the light a bit as she squeezes Carlisle's hand a little tighter. A time-less diamond ring. . .
I've been waiting a very long time for this.
I've been waiting for Edward.
A small shiver rushes through my body. My slightly thawed bones freeze up again. I've been waiting for Edward, and Edward's been waiting for me. But he got to me first. Would Edward ever want me now?
Esme can't know. She'll never let me be with Edward if she knows. Edward can't know either. But Carlisle knew. He couldn't shield his thoughts, and he couldn't keep this from Esme.
Unless I lied.
Women did this all the time. They always lied about who hurt them or how they got hurt. How mysterious bruises and broken ribs occurred. I could lie too.
It was nothing. I slipped. I fell down the stairs. I was cleaning the tub. I tripped on the laundry and hit my head on the washing machine. I slipped while mopping the kitchen.
I try to rehearse the lines, trying to figure out which one makes the most sense.
I wish I had Alice to help me. Alice staged the story so perfectly Charlie had no choice but to believe I fell down to flights of stairs in Phoenix. I needed her now. . .
I force my eyes away from Carlisle and Esme, wishing they'd go away. Even if I fooled them, I'd never fool Edward. I'd never fool Alice.
Should I wait for him to get here so I could get one more kiss, one more glance into his beautiful eyes, before he went? Or would another "clean break", as he had told me many months ago, be better. It didn't work last time, so it probably wouldn't this time either.
A kiss, I decided, would be better than nothing.
"Oh, sweetheart." Esme breathes. She touches my hand tentatively with hers, almost seeking my permission. "Please don't shut us out."
My heart stutters slightly. "I'm not." I whisper stiffly.
I wanted one more kiss. Just one more. I could lie enough to get that one kiss, right?
My mind was so foggy. I vaguely remember screaming voices and Carlisle's terrifying order to Jacob to put me down.
Where had Jacob found me? I shiver slightly as I remember that I was in my room was he found me and violated me. Did Jacob find me there, or somewhere else? It didn't matter if Jacob could corroborate my story – by the time he showed up, Edward would be gone.
I remember Carlisle ordering a sedative.
I remember being in the ballet studio in Phoenix when Carlisle was taking care of me. He was like this – gentle and comforting.
"Sweetheart, you're safe." Esme says, brushing some of my hair from my face. "Would it make you more comfortable if I left? Is there someone else you'd like to talk to?"
It didn't matter who – Edward could read everyone's mind. If he read their minds, he'd never come to see me. Or, he would come and see me like this. But then I'd never get my proper goodbye.
I don't respond to Esme, and neither of them say anything to me for a long time. I could feel my hands trembling as I thought of the probability of me seeing Edward. It didn't seem too high.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Esme asks, her voice so soft I strain to hear.
My thoughts flash back to what happened.
Sunlight streaming into my room. My Hamlet book on my desk. His hands on my body. His knee on my stomach. My head banging against the headboard. Black spots over my vision. A pin-prick pain in my side. Edward's voice urging me to fight. Me giving up.
"I don't remember."
The needle pickled in my skin.
My hands drift to my side, touching my stomach. No needle. Not anymore. I was awake now.
Esme's hand touches mine. For the second time, I pull my hand from hers, remembering how my hands were locked down before. Esme doesn't hold me or prevent me from pulling away. She was disgusted with me. She didn't want me.
Thick tears were pooling in my eyes. It made me angry that my body would betray me like this. Anyone could tell that I was a liar if I started crying. My throat hurt so much as I withheld sobs, but it was no use. My tears slipped over my eyelashes and down my cheeks too fast for me to discretely wipe them away. I would never see Edward or Alice again.
I missed them so much – both of them.
Had Carlisle told me anyone else was here? My mind struggled to recall the information. Was it Emmett or Alice, or Emmett and Rosalie? I tried to force my mind to remember his words but the more I tried, the fuzzier it got. I doubted Rosalie would ever willingly stay at the hospital for me. She didn't like me.
Why would Carlisle tell me they were here? Why would they even be here?
Whoever it was, were they waiting with the getaway car? Maybe, if I ran fast enough, I could make it down to see Alice, if she was here, before they drove away.
"Bella." Esme sighs, wiping some stray tears from my cheeks. I turned my head away from her, resisting her touch. This was manipulative affection. She would get me to fall apart and then she would leave me. "Please, please don't do this."
Carlisle's face remained blank, though Esme's was full of emotion. Fake emotion, but emotion. I sobbed quietly, my face turned away from Esme. I wish she didn't see how much it was hurting me.
"What can we do to make this better?" Carlisle says to me. He takes a deep, slow breath, closing his eyes. "Do you feel more comfortable talking to someone else?"
He was giving me options now. If I could just get Edward or Alice here and say my goodbye to them before the options were taken from me, that would be good.
"I want Edward." I sniff between my cries. My heavy breaths were hurting my chest so much.
"Alright." Esme says, her voice masked with relief and urgency. "I'll go get him now." She pats my hand, standing up and disappearing from the room. I felt a sigh of relief escape me when Esme disappeared. I didn't want her to come back.
Carlisle watches me with his golden eyes, studying me. I hated it. He reaches for my hand, and though every inch of me wants to pull away, I crave his comforting touch more. He is rubbing little circles on my hand, his dark eyes on my face.
I stare back at him.
I shake my head. I would tell him nothing. "I want to see Edward before you leave." I tell him firmly. But, again, my voice was anything but firm. It was weak, pathetic . . . begging. He liked it when I begged. A shiver runs over my body.
Carlisle stares at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. I could see his features change as he realized the meaning in my words. The muscles in his arms stiffened. "Bella," his voice was forced. "we're not leaving you."
"You are." Tears were leaking over my cheeks again. I pull my arms close to my chest. It hurt to do it. My arms hurt and my chest hurt. My chest hurt so much.
"No, Bella, we aren't." Carlisle insists. "Why do you think that?"
I could not control myself anymore. They won. They tore me apart and now they were going to leave me. What little control I had over my body dissipates as I broke down into hyperventilating sobs. I couldn't breathe. My head pounded with every shallow, painful breath I managed to suck in. It felt as if I wasn't even exhaling, I was just gasping in air between my fits. My chest hurt.
"I need to see him before you go." I hiccup pathetically.
"Sweetheart, please, listen to me." Carlisle was talking to me now. The others were probably gone. They all knew what had happened to me. "No one is leaving you. We're all here. We love you, Bella."
I try to pull away from me, but it hurts so damn much. My chest hurts. I wanted to pound my fits into it. I hated my chest for hurting. But moving my arms hurt too, so I just let Carlisle hold me. Maybe this would be the last time a vampire ever touched me. I would miss it. I liked how cold they were.
Edward's at my side then, his face so close I flinch away. "Bella," he whispers, "I'm here."
"I'm sorry." I close my eyes, feeling my world blur again as I turn away. My jaw hurt.
"How can you apologize?" Edward breathes, his voice as hue of horror. "This was not your fault."
I didn't fight enough. I let him do it. I should have fought harder. I welcomed the darkness when too quickly. I shouldn't have given up.
I feel the pinprick of pain at my stomach again. I press my palm against it, making sure no syringe was injecting me with more of the drug.
The blankets rustle as Edward sits besides me. I flinch when his hand cups my cheek, my eyes still shut tightly.
"I'm the one who needs to apologize – profusely. I swore I'd protect you. I swore nothing would hard you again. And, yet again, I've broken my promise."
His words – his voice – tears at my heart. Hot tears are rolling down my cheeks.
I open my mouth to argue with him, to tell him it wasn't his fault. But my mind wheels back. It wasn't his fault, and yet it was – his and Carlisle's and the whole coven's. They had done nothing, and yet this was about them.
This was about them. Not me. It wasn't about me, until it was.
I shudder, remembering just how much this was about me. How much it would remain about me. How much I would have to deal with.
His thumb runs over my cheekbone, and I'm a little surprised by how reliving it felt. My face hurt – all of it. And so did my body, I realize. My whole body felt stiff, and it throbbed with pain.
"That feels good." I whisper, my throat hoarse with pain. "Your hand. . ."
"It's cold." He murmurs.
I swallow thickly, blinking back tears as I open my eyes. His dark eyes were just inches from my face, wide with worry.
Edward shifts, and I flinch back before I even realize what I'm doing. I don't miss the flicker of pain in his eyes, or the way he makes it disappear in a second.
My heart throbs in my chest, twisting and wrenching with each beat.
"I won't hurt you." He murmurs, his voice a soft whisper.
I know. You never have. I want to say it, but a lump is lodged so deeply in my throat that I can't make the words out.
He knew what happened. He knew what was done to me. I'm nauseous – my stomach twisting as the room spins.
I didn't fight enough. I should have fought more. I should have listened to his voice in my head. I should have fought.
I stare down at my body – at my wrist in a cast and my hand wrapped in gauze that once held an IV. I should have fought harder. I should have listened to his voice. I shouldn't have given up.
It's the thought that stutters through my head like a broken record until my world falls dark.
A quiet knock echoes at the door, and Carlisle is stepping in when my eyes crack open against bright light.
"Good morning, Bella." He says softly, offering me a smile.
My only response is a coerced gulp to force the lump away. It doesn't work.
"Bella, I spoke to your father yesterday." He continues, moving past my silence. "He and I both feel you'd be better off recovering away from here."
"Where?" I croak.
Don't take me home. I never want to go back there. I never want to go back to Forks.
"Our home." Edward says. I cringe away, realizing that Edward was sitting right next to me. That I was wrapped in his arms. My shoulders tense against his arms, and, as if he knew, he pulls away slowly.
Carlisle is quiet a moment before he speaks. "If you're comfortable with that."
I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding, relief and pain flooding through me simultaneously.
Home, but not mine. I was safe with the Cullens. I would be safe at their house. I wouldn't be left alone. I'd always be protected. They would stop him when I gave up fighting.
"I want to go now." I whisper, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed in a public place where vampires wouldn't have the same capacity to defend me.
I look from Edward to Carlisle, hoping they understand the need I have to leave. If not from my words, then from my eyes.
Carlisle simply nods at me. "Esme is just outside with some clothes. Edward and I will take care of everything else."
At Carlisle's words, Edward stands. His fingers brush against my good wrist as he leaves, tossing one last glance in my direction.
Esme enters before Carlisle or Edward leave. She's carrying two bags in her hands, setting them both down on the table at the foot of my bed.
"Sweetheart, do you want something eat?" She asks gently, laying her hand on my shoulder. The pressure feels peculiar – soothing, but intolerable. I don't want her hand there. "I made some soup for your throat."
"Maybe later."
"I have some clothes for you. We can leave as soon as you're changed out of that gown." Esme says, touching the material of the hospital gown. She reaches for the bag, pulling out sweatpants, a shirt, and a sweater.
"Do you mind if I help you?" She asks, and I shake my head instantly, ignoring the pain that spikes through my skull and down my spine. I didn't even want to try getting dressed on my own.
Esme smiles at me.
She is incredibly gentle as she helps me sit up. I hadn't moved much, and now I understood why. Pain radiated through my body so sharply that I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. It did not ease as I sat up straighter so Esme could help me change. She's fast – pulling my shirt over my head and guiding my arms into the sleeves as I cringe in pain.
As she pulls the blanket from my legs, I catch sight of my discolored skin. The sight twists my stomach painfully.
Beg me, Bella. Beg me not to do it.
Esme covers my legs with the blanket, her thumb wiping at my cheeks. "Don't look too closely, sweetheart. It will only make it hurt more."
"How long . . ." I ask, staring the tan blanket over my legs. "They're so dark."
It takes a long moment for Esme to answer. "You were brought here eighteen hours ago."
"Oh."
It seemed like much longer and much shorter at the same time. Longer, since there was so much that had happened. Shorter, because it seemed impossible that my memories were from eighteen hours ago. It felt much closer – as if they were happening just seconds before they popped back into my mind.
I don't speak as Esme helps me into the pants she brought or as she helps me pull a thick sweatshirt over my arms.
I instantly hate the pressure – how restrictive it feels against my arms – and I shed it instantly. Esme watches but says nothing, simply folding the piece of cloth up and putting it back into the bag.
Esme stays with me, offering me food twice more, until Carlisle comes. He's carrying a wad of paper in his hand. He stands at the table at the foot of my bed, arranging the papers in a folder.
I knew there were rules about being discharged. Wounds needed to be healed and cleared of infection. Nurses and doctors bustled about patients checking vitals, making sure they knew how to care for themselves, asking for signatures on papers with medical and legal jargon. But now, it seemed as if no one cared. No doctor or nurses was requested. No one asked me if I knew what to do with my cast before a shower. No one checked my wounds or asked me how to care for them.
I knew, if they did, I wouldn't have answers. I knew if they asked me to stand and walk across the room – as they had in Phoenix when I needed a boot and crutches – that I would not be able to. My ribs hurt too much to sit upright, even with Esme's help. Not that I wanted to sit upright at all with my pelvic pain that made my stomach churn with nausea.
I was pumped full of pain medicine and antibiotics in Phoenix too. Nurses routinely checked my temperature – insisting it be below a certain threshold prior to my discharge. But here, Carlisle did not seem to mind as Esme disconnected the machine wires from my skin.
Machines were shut off with each wire that was pulled, the stickers carefully eased off my skin.
"Charlie called." Esme tells me, making conversation. "He said he'll come visit today. He's happy that you won't be here anymore. He knows you don't like hospitals much."
I don't respond.
"All done, Bella." Esme says, and Carlisle snaps the folder shut.
"Bella," He says, his voice gentle. My heart pulls, unsure of what he was going to say. "I know you're in a lot of pain right now, and it's only going to get worse as we're moving you. Can you allow me to give you some pain medicine?"
"No." the word is out of my mouth before I realize I've even said anything. "No, I'm okay. I don't . . . I don't need anything."
I shiver, thinking about the pain in my stomach again and the blurred colors.
Carlisle sits on the vinyl chair next to my bed, his eyes pleading with me. "I know that you are afraid. I understand. But I can't allow you to be in this much pain."
"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt." I insist, my eyes burning with tears. Anger burns through me – anger that I'm crying again, that the tears are blurring my vision, that Carlisle and Esme can see how weak I am.
Carlisle is silent for a long time, and I stare at him, pleading.
"Bella, you were under the influence of a drug called Rohypnol." Carlisle tells me, his voice slow, hesitant.
I wince at his words, inhaling so sharply my chest radiates with pain. I turn my face away from him, as if that would shield my ears from his words. My vision blurs with memories of sluggish limbs and molasses thoughts. I can't seem to focus – everything is weaving in and out, hospital and then my bedroom, Carlisle and then the other man, tears from Carlisle's words and his.
"It's a drug used to incapacitate. It's cruel to use, and even crueler to be victim to."
Everything hurts, and I can't differentiate between my current pain and the pain of when the injuries were inflicted upon me. I can't differentiate between Carlisle's fingers on my hand and his fingers on me.
Watercolors. Melting images until they're blurs. Like everything is foggy.
"I won't do that to you." Carlisle tells me, his voice ringing with a sincerity that pulls me from my memories. "Bella, I have never used medicines irresponsibly with you, and I won't ever do that in the future. I have never given you reason to distrust me."
I glance at him through tear-filled eyes. He was watching me, his expression resolved.
"I need you to trust that I won't harm you."
Carlisle's fingers rub at my palm. His fingertips are smooth, cold, gentle. I stare at them for a long time, hot tears cascading down my face.
The drug. Watercolors. The blackness that overcame the pain and hopelessness before I woke up to a much worse fear. I don't want to go to sleep.
"I don't want to sleep."
"I won't give you that much." Carlisle promises.
My throat hurts with a sob I'm forcing down. I pull my fingers away from Carlisle, wrapping them around my wrist. It hurts. My bone feels like its shattering all over again.
"Just take me home."
Esme moves to my side, taking both my hands in hers. She has tears in her eyes. Her voice fills the room, gentle and quiet. She talks about nothing in particular – words that float past my ears, quenching the silence but hardly filling the void in my chest.
She tells me of an Island with bright blue water. She tells me of the fish that assume colored masks she had never seen before. She tells me of white sand beaches that kiss the waves.
My hands tighten in hers when Carlisle grasps my arm, his hand steadily immobilizing it.
"Deep breath, Bella." Carlisle murmurs, and then the needle bites into the skin of my arm.
I gasp, flinching closer to Esme. My body moves, even the arm that Carlisle had been holding. A warm feeling was spreading through me – starting in my chest and expanding outward. As it moved, the cold relinquished it's grasp on me, taking the pain away with it.
"Thank you for trusting me, Bella." Carlisle massages my arm for a moment before letting go. "Edward will carry you to the car. Until then, try to rest."
My body seems to settle into the bed more comfortably now. My head lulls back against the pillows, too exhausted to be held up.
Esme keeps holding my hands, but her voice is more distant than before. I try to listen intently, try to grasp the words about colorful coral and tall palm trees. But they're all too fleeting. My body, once wrecked with pain, feels swollen with air and warmth. It's much harder to focus on anything else.
"You're exhausted, darling." Esme finally tells me, brushing my hair through her fingers. "Your body is ready to sleep now that there is no pain."
I blink at her, noticing the energy it takes to open my eyes after the darkness falls over me.
"I don't want to sleep." I whisper. The door opens and Edward silently slips in.
"It's scary to sleep, I know." Edward whispers to me, his hands weaving into mine. "But I'll stay with you if you change your mind."
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