A/n: Hello wonderful people! I have been getting to some VERY exciting parts of the story and I'm so excited to start sharing them with you. Please let me know what you think after reading the chapter! Again, reviews are like the most wonderful thing an author (or this author, at least) can receive!
Trigger warning: discussion of SA, injuries from SA, trauma, dealing with trauma
Chapter 16 – EPOV
"I'm fine, Esme. Thank you." Bella's clearly fatigued as she walks with Rosalie's assistance towards the couch. The movement seems to drain her and she sinks into the cushions, closing her eyes.
"Are you hungry, darling? Tired?" Esme asks, her eyebrows pulled together. She was so much better looking yesterday. Maybe the bath and talking with Rose was too much for her. . .
"I'm still full from breakfast."
I can feel my features fall into a frown, remembering she had taken two small bites of toast before discarding it. I don't dare let Bella see my disapproval as her eyes shift to me.
"Alright, dear." Esme touches Bella's shoulder as she passes, worry evident all over her features. Esme looks towards Jasper, lowering her voice so Bella was unable to hear. "Jasper, let me know if she's in pain. I might give her some tea. Sometimes that helps with her head."
"You might want to get started on the tea now." Jasper responds, his voice as low as Esme's. We're both watching Bella – both of seeing the exhaustion on her face. She's in a lot of pain, Edward. Maybe you should try talking to her again about drugs. Maybe she'll actually concede after talking to Rosalie.
My head shakes the tiniest bit. "It's too soon." She may think we're manipulating her.
Rosalie shakes her head. "When she asks for tea, we'll give it. Until then, lay off."
I don't even offer my arms before Bella is shifting her body against mine, pressing her head toward my chest. "What hurts?"
I already know the answer.
Bella hesitates, opening her eyes to look at me. It takes a ludicrous amount of energy to force myself to smile at her, trying to and offer some reassurance.
"My head."
I touch the base of her skull, pressing deeply with my fingertips. She moans quietly, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Try to sleep." I murmur, trying to massage the pain away. She barely nods, and I can tell she is trying to fall asleep despite the rigidity of her body on top of mine and the grip of her fists in my shirt. Whether the stress was from her headache or her conversation with Rosalie, I wasn't sure.
Rosalie watches her settle against me for a moment, her thoughts a mix of pleasure with their conversation and pity for the girl who could have had so much more than this – so much more than me. Don't mess up her progress, Edward. She is going to improve so much more now that we can actually acknowledge her trauma and strength.
All I can do is nod at Rosalie. Maybe she's right, maybe she isn't. Only time will truly tell.
I sit with Bella, holding her as she fades in and out of sleep. When she's awake, I'm able to coax some warm peppermint tea into her. Rosalie rolled her eyes when Esme bought the steaming mug but said nothing. When Bella sleeps, Jasper tries to keep her anxiety at bay. Neither strategy seems to work. The cloud that bubbles around her in Jasper's mind is ripe with her pain.
After several hours, Alice lays claim to my place. Her fingers massage Bella's head and her arms wrapped around Bella's shoulders while I watch.
Emmett tries to entice me with chess, or another round of wrestling, but Esme shuts down both, suggesting I sit with Carlisle for a bit.
"It's been far too long since you've both had a proper conversation." Esme had insisted, smiling. She continued in her thoughts, silently communicating what she didn't want everyone else to hear. It was just the two of you in the beginning, and it seems it is always the two of you to resolve your struggles.
Carlisle looks up as I enter his office, offering me a brief smile before turning back to his shelves.
"I hope you didn't have any plans of telling Bella she had PTSD in a professional manner."
Carlisle chuckles at my pathetic joke. "Rose beat me to that, did she?" I've mentioned it in the past. But Rose covered what is necessary.
I sit down on the couch across from him, spying the books around him. The titles were all version of the same thing: understanding trauma. Dealing with trauma. Recovering from trauma. Some books more precise in the trauma they dealt with, and the titles make me wince.
Carlisle watches me for a moment before speaking. "I've gone through just about every book here. There's nothing particularly unique about trauma of Bella's type. It's everything else regarding the attack I'm unsure about." Motive, who, what. . . the scent is not human or vampire. There are no books to answer those questions.
I don't follow his train of thought, still thinking about Bella's PTSD and her conversation with Rosalie. I feel as if I've invaded Bella's privacy by listening to her and Rosalie, but Rosalie was adamant that I stayed. She wanted the opportunity to show me how to talk to Bella, how to touch her, how to converse with her. . . How to not be afraid to cause her pain and make her cry.
"The headaches?" I ask, touching the cover for one of his books. Everyone could tell they were inflicting Bella more and more as time rolled on, despite her hesitation to talk about her pain. She never directly asked for it, but we all could tell when she desperately wanted someone's cold hand massaging the pain away.
Physical and Psychological States of Trauma.
It was a new book Carlisle had ordered just a mere day ago and he had spent time flipping through the pages, digesting every word. Carlisle's experience with trauma was limited, having never worked long-term with patients of severe psychological trauma. He preferred surgery rotations that extended to the ER and ICU. These books had made him more of an expert than any other in the field in the last few days, though he was still terribly unsure about Bella.
"Stress-induced. . . I'm assuming. They mainly arise when she's had a bad night or too many panic attacks." Carlisle's eyes flicker to me, and I can hear as he thinks of how her headaches come about when I have stressed her out with a burst of anger or while I'm out tracking. He doesn't voice his thoughts. He doesn't try to hide them either.
"Is there anything at all that's physical?" I demand, upset with his thoughts and his slight nonchalance about Bella's condition.
Carlisle grimaces, turning to face me again. Do you mean, is there anything treatable about her condition without having her discuss what happened?
"Her concussion should have healed – it's been weeks."
"Some require more time, Edward."
"Not if it's more severe than originally thought."
"I have not done a CT or MRI." Carlisle murmurs. "I doubt she would do well without a sedative, which means she will refuse the test if I ask."
But long-term stress negatively impacts the body. We already see it with how slowly she's been healing, physically. Bella was perfectly healthy, before the attack, and the stress of everything has deteriorated her right before us. Carlisle adds silently. "It's been three weeks, son. She needs more time to heal."
"Yes, she does." My voice is more bitter than I intend. "Rosalie shouldn't –"
Carlisle shakes his head at me. "If Rosalie hadn't spoken to her today, I would have."
"What do we do, Carlisle?" my voice is impatient as I pinch the bridge of my nose. It was incredibly frustrating that he was giving me this information with no clear treatment plan.
There's little that we can do. "Eliminate her stress, Edward." Carlisle tells me pointedly. Then, he sighs. "I would like to give her some Ativan consistently, but we'd need her to move past her aversion to drugs. We'd obviously need to address the root of the issue by talking about —"
"No!"
Carlisle stands, stacking the books and finding spaces for them on his shelves. He's thinking about what Rosalie said – about Bella fearing books. I remember the Hamlet book I saw in her room. I know why she doesn't like books.
"Therapists are assigned to these cases immediately, Edward. Bella doesn't need more time to process. She's spiraling now."
"She's pushing Bella to panic."
She's pushing Bella to remember her trauma in a safe environment. "That's the only solution." I open my mouth to cut Carlisle off, but he continues with pointed words. "Ultimately, the choice is not up to you. You cannot coerce her or prevent her."
"Neither can you."
Carlisle sighs, grimacing. "There's no easy way to deal with trauma."
"Obviously not."
Bella is in more pain repressing this than dealing with it. Carlisle has books scattered on the table that don't fit on the shelves. He'll have to purchase more units to store the books. "Try to remember that none of this is about you or any of the rest of us. The pain we will feel as she deals with her trauma is a sacrifice we have to make – a trauma that we have to process too."
Bella is going to suffer far more than anyone until she is able to voice her fears. Sheltering her will only harm her in the long run.
"I don't want her to be uncomfortable."
"This isn't about you." Carlisle tells me. "You've been bent on revenge, Edward, and you haven't been paying attention to her."
"It's not revenge – I'm trying to protect her!"
"Regardless," Carlisle is unphased by my fury. "this is about Bella. This is about making her better no matter how the rest of us feel. We're all angry that we couldn't protect her before, but now we all need to recognize there is no place for anger in her healing."
Rosalie is doing the right thing. Let her.
"You can't expect me to let him go."
"We do." Carlisle responds firmly. "We all had to let things go in our time, Edward."
I shake my head at the man who had become my father, turning to leave the room. "I respect you, Carlisle. As a father and a doctor. Making her have panic attacks is not the answer to this. Making her relive it over and over again is not the answer."
She didn't have a panic attack when Rosalie spoke to her.
"She was fucking close." I snap. "She shouldn't have to go through that again."
"She will. Every single time she falls asleep." Carlisle tells me as I walk out the door. The wood shuts loudly behind me, cracking with force.
My legs have already carried me down the stairs as at a pace much too fast before I realize there are two heartbeats when there is normally one. In my heated discussion with Carlisle, I hadn't been aware of Charlie's thoughts as he entered the house.
"Edward." He greets quietly, not quite meeting my gaze . . . need to talk to Carlisle and Esme. She's not looking good today. . . He looks angry.
"My parents are upstairs. They'll be down in a moment."
My eyes flash to Bella in Alice's arms, momentarily assessing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the paleness to her skin that Charlie had noticed.
"Okay, good." Charlie nods slowly, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.
Bella is watching me now, her eyes puckered together tightly. I can almost guess her thoughts are swimming with confusion. About what, I had no idea. Not a second later, Carlisle and Esme slowly descend the stairs.
"Charlie!" Esme greets happily, her face plastered with a happy smile. "I hadn't realized you'd come in. Have you been here long?"
"No, just a couple of minutes. Bella kept me company." Charlie responds gruffly. Too tired to even talk. I'm not sure what it is she's even doing here.
His mind swims with guilt, then. Guilt because he knows she no better off with him.
"Are you hungry? Carlisle and I were just about to start on dinner. Why don't you join us in the kitchen and we can talk?" Esme offers, gesturing towards the kitchen.
"Sure, sure." Charlie stands up heavily, following Esme out of the room under the guise of a private conversation. Carlisle hangs back for a moment, giving me a pointed look.
For Bella's sake, don't let Charlie see your anger, son. Carlisle disappears after Bella's father and Esme without another word, or thought, in my direction.
"Enjoy your talk?" Rosalie asks under her breath as she breezes into the room. She sits down besides Bella, running her hands through Bella hair. Don't talk to her until your put your own bullshit aside.
I ignore Rosalie completely, and sit on the couch across the room. Bella's eyes have been glued to me until I meet her gaze, and then she turns away.
"Jasper picked up a few of your favorite books from the store. Would you like to read one?" Alice asks.
"What?" Bella questions, her voice quiet.
"I asked him to. It may help." It was unnerving how soft Rosalie's voice was directed towards Bella. Exposure therapy works, Edward, don't fucking fight me. What she liked to do before may benefit her now.
Bella's eyes flash to Rosalie as mine flash to her. They're wide with shock, and another emotion I am unable to pinpoint. "No, I think I want to sleep. I'll go upstairs." Bella responds, her voice faint. She struggles a bit to stand, her migraine making her dizzy. But she's able with Rosalie's help, and the two of them leave.
I sit alone for a long time, listening as Bella falls asleep silently with Rosalie. It hurts knowing that she was happy to sleep without me with her, and even more that she had chosen to sleep on Rosalie's couch over mine.
Eventually, Emmett joins me, plopping down on the couch as he turns the TV.
"You listening to Charlie right now?" Emmett asks curiously, eyeing me. "You're calm for him suggesting taking Bells to a hospital right now."
"What?" I drag myself from my thoughts about Bella, turning fully towards Emmett. He raises an eyebrow at me, surprised at my confusion.
"He wants her committed." Emmett nods toward the kitchen where Charlie was conversing quietly with Esme.
"She's recovering as can be expected, Charlie." Carlisle is telling him quietly, his voice soft and level. "I know it's troubling, seeing her like this. But she endured a distressing experience, and we can't fully understand what's going on in her head."
"The last time I saw her like that was. . ." Charlie trails off, his thoughts flying to the months that I had left Bella. She was worse now; he just hadn't been around enough to see it. "What if we're not doing what we need to do to help her?"
Charlie's thoughts are difficult for me to isolate, to dissect.
"I think you're worried that we've all failed her once before and we will do it again." Esme sighs. "No one is at fault for this, Charlie, you must remember that. When things like this happen. . . it's entirely at the fault of the one who did it, not Bella or you or any one of her other friends or family members."
"I know." Charlie mumbles, his voice distraught.
"You seem hesitant to say that. . . We're all a little changed by this experience, Bella included. But don't dismiss your own feelings and experiences right now." Esme continues. She sets down a steaming cup of tea, ignoring how he automatically wrinkles his nose at the smell before fixing his expression. "None of us can help Bella if we aren't admitting the truth to ourselves, at the very least."
"She's . . . so skinny. She looks like she hasn't slept in I don't even know how long!"
"She is having trouble with that." Carlisle agrees. "She has nightmares when she sleeps, but we're working through them with her. Her appetite was gone for a long time, too, but maybe you have noticed her eating more now. It's going to take time – all of it. Don't discredit the progress you see now."
"Is there progress?"
"Yes, plenty!" Esme beams. I can hear the knife on the cutting board as she chops vegetables for Bella's, and Charlie's, dinner. She's making enough to feed an entire village though. "We were getting worried with her refusing to go out, but she's venturing outside all on her own now. Sometimes just around the porch or yard, but she did go to La Push a few days ago. In fact, she even with to the beach with Alice. She's sleeping a bit more, despite her initial trouble. She's been finding comfort with Alice and Rosalie on her more difficult nights."
Emmett snorts at Esme's lie. "Wouldn't want the future father-in-law to know about your pre-marital co-habitation, huh?"
"Go to hell." I mutter.
"Physically, she's doing better too. Her injuries are healing very well." Carlisle adds. "I don't foresee any complications at this point."
Carlisle doesn't mention the worsening headaches or the trembling.
"It's not a lot." Charlie mutters. "Going out on the porch. . ."
"It's mountains for Bella." Esme tells him. "Recovery seems daunting. It's . . ." Esme sighs quietly. "it doesn't seem worth it, sometimes."
Esme's words make me tremble. Does Bella see that her recovery is worth something? Does she see her life as valuable to her, to others?
"Bella is overcoming it, as easily as she can." Esme finishes reassuring Charlie.
"What are we supposed to do in the meantime?"
"The fucking million-dollar question today." Emmett shuts the TV off.
"We need to take care of ourselves, Charlie." Esme's voice is firm, pointed. "You need to sleep and eat and keep yourself healthy. You've been visiting her and talking to her, and it's very clear she needs your support. Just keep supporting her that way."
"You're very good at this." Charlie chuckles quietly.
"Carlisle and I have a lot of training." Esme tells him lightly. "Our children come from difficult backgrounds."
Charlie struggles to find words and settles for a quiet grunt of acknowledgement.
"It's not without difficulty, though." Esme murmurs, patting Charlie's shoulder. "We consider Bella our daughter, and it's hard to see any of our children suffer this way."
It's silent in the kitchen as Esme continues chopping vegetables and tossing them into the soup that had been boiling on the stove. Eventually, Charlie stands and announces he's going to sit with Bella some more. Alice is sweet as she directs him upstairs to Rosalie's room. It takes a lot of my composure to not barge into the kitchen knowing that the two of them didn't fully satisfy Charlie's thoughts about removing Bella from our care. Esme was strong in her belief that Charlie would eventually believe her and allow Bella to stay with us. I wasn't.
Charlie stays until dinner, chomping down a large bowl of soup while Bella tenderly sips at hers. She gets through one piece of beef, two cubes of potatoes, and a few sips of broth before announcing she can't eat anymore.
I can sense Carlisle's dissatisfaction with her lack of consumption, but he has nothing but encouraging words as he removes the bowl from her hands.
She falls into a deep sleep after dinner, and Charlie leaves silently as I carry her upstairs to my bedroom. Somehow, Bella isn't disturbed at all as I tuck her into the thick blankets, settling besides her.
Despite her initial deep sleep, Bella sleeps the rest of the night lightly, plagued with nightmares. As Bella stirs besides me, whimpering in her sleep, and I automatically shift my body on the bed to accommodate her tense form, to remind her that I'm with her. Even then, she wakes constantly desperate to find me and panicked if she thinks I'm gone.
Carlisle's thoughts echoed strange images of children who developed separation anxiety from family members after abandonment. The resemblance of anxious children and Bella are remarkable and disturbing. He hasn't delved too deeply into psychology in his years, preferring the harder sciences that led him to medicine. But now, sitting in his office for hours reading has helped him understand the behaviors Bella has been exhibiting these past few days.
My fingers run over the small knots of her spine, recognizing the way they jut out of her skin unnaturally. She was always small, but these last weeks of struggling to eat have rendered her even skinnier than normal, just as Charlie had been noticing. My slow movements against Bella's body wake her fully from her sleep.
She whimpers quietly, her eyes fluttering open as they try to find me. I can't help the pain that runs through me as I see the flashes of panic over her eyes before they finally find me.
She shifts her body again, wincing uncomfortably at her actions. The bruises marring her skin were nearly all gone, except for the deeper ones that had still remained purplish against her pale skin. I had been watching them, waiting for every single one to disappear from her skin. I hated the way they scarred her, reminding her of the brutal events of her attack. Despite this, she still moved as if she was fragile, shattering glass. As if the wrong movement might make her entire body break. Her bones would take much longer to heal – her wrist was very nearly shattered. It would take weeks, if not months, to heal fully.
"Good morning." I murmur, laying my lips against her forehead. It's hardly morning – the sun was still deep beneath the thick clouds of the brightening sky. And it was hardly good – her night was disastrous. "Sleep well?"
She nods slowly, smiling slightly at my kiss. I linger against her forehead for a moment, letting her exhale against my skin. Stroking her hair in my fingers seems like such an innocent action, but her eyes flip to mine quickly – I've come to understand this behavior of hers as her own reminder of who was touching her.
There are so many new things that she has developed in the last few weeks, and I still struggle to understand them all. More than anything, I wished they would be gone, that her moments of fear and panic driven by physical touch, memories, or the actions and tones of my family would not haunt her the way they do not.
Bella's quiet, biting her lip anxiously by my side. It takes her much longer to speak than it should, again an action born from anxiety. "You need to hunt." She finally says, her eyes downcast.
I can't imagine the strength or the selflessness she has to voice her thought, to ask me to care for myself even if it means leaving her. "I'm fine, love."
"Edward –"
I can't help that laugh that slips from my lips before she can even continue, wanting to argue with me. "Please don't tell me what I need right now when you refuse to listen to Carlisle, Bella."
"I'm serious." Bella responds curtly. She shudders gently as I brush my hand over her arm. I can't tell if it's from fear or pleasure, but I instinctively stop.
"You need to eat. But you don't seem to be listening, so why should I?"
"That's different." Bella mutters stubbornly, but she doesn't argue further, and I know she doesn't truly want me to leave her alone. I'm not sure how she can even bring herself to encourage my leaving when she's been holding onto me so tightly since she first rose from her unconscious state.
I want to pull her close to me and tell her it's not any different.
"Can you hold me, Edward?"
I hold back a sigh before she can hear it, knowing she might translate it as annoyance at her request. Before the attack, she never asked for contact, she demanded it. She never hesitated to mold her body to mine, but now she asks. I have every desire to hold her close to me, to give her everything she needs, to love her. . . It pains me to think she believes I might deny her comfort. A bitter thought sweeps through my mind – I had pulled away my affection. I had become more reserved, afraid I would torment her unintentionally. I had, only moments ago, stopped touching her without knowing if she was truly afraid or not.
I wrap my arms around her torso, pulling her closer to my chest until her face is just inches from mine.
"Always, Bella." I murmur, kissing her forehead again.
I hold Bella close to me until her breaths even out and she slips back into her sleep. I keep her in my arms, having absolutely no desire to remove her from me.
"Edward," Emmett's voice is thunderously loud in the quiet house but Bella couldn't even hear him two flows below us. "Let's go." Bell's right, you have to hunt.
"I'm fine, Emmett." I was not – my throat burned with a fire that I desperately needed to quench, but Bella needed me more and I would not leave her.
"She'll be okay for a few hours." Emmett encourages. I'll drag you out of the house if I have to.
I hiss at Emmett, annoyed at his thoughts. He chuckles at my reaction, completely unphased by my anger.
Alice skips upstairs, then, coming into my room. "Go, Edward, I'll stay with her." She promises, her wide eyes begging me to trust her. "I promise, she'll be safe."
"No, Alice." I hiss, but she ignores me and much to my disbelief, she nearly pushes me off the couch when I refuse to get up.
"She doesn't sleep well if I'm not here." I insist at Alice as she settles in my spot on the bed.
Alice rolls her eyes. "Edward, she doesn't sleep well if you're here, either. No more excuses, you really do need to hunt." I'll be with her!
"Alice." I snap, growing even more upset. She must understand my hesitation to leave – she was with me last time I went hunting.
Esme enters the room then, hearing the debate. "Edward, you do need to hunt. We're all here to care for Bella. You know that we will call if she needs you." She lays a gentle hand on my arm, squeezing it gently. I know you're worried about leaving her, but we'll take care of her. There are more than enough of us here to protect her.
"Esme," I shake my head at her, but she stops me before I can continue with a stern look.
"Go, Edward. You're better for her if your needs are taken care of." Esme's tone is so firm, echoing what she told Charlie the day before. Her words are stubbornly echoed in the thoughts of my siblings that it is pitifully pointless to argue with them.
I sigh defeatedly, dismayed beyond reason. Emmett is waiting impatiently by the door when I make my way downstairs and he only glances at me for a fraction of a second before he's disappeared outside. I follow slowly, hesitantly, after him and away from Bella.
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