I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

This pain wouldn't be for

Evermore

~ Taylor Swift, Evermore (Feat. Bon Iver)

BPOV

"I can stay," Edward told me for the fifth time Thursday morning.

I took a deep breath, my hand squeezing his as we made our way slowly to the front door. Edward didn't seem to want to go to work anymore than I wanted him to, but he had already been gone three days. It wasn't like I was going to be home alone, either. Masen and Lucy rarely left, an oddity for two teenagers that tended to have busier schedules than I ever did. Carlisle and Esme were also always around. They had been staying in a guestroom since I got back from the hospital Sunday. As guilty as I felt that they had upended their own lives to come here, they brought with them a calming sense of home that I had come to crave. Rosalie and Emmett were here for dinner every night since, as well as Alice and Jasper.

Still. As much as I appreciated everybody else's company, it took every ounce of willpower I had not to beg Edward to stay home. He kept me calm. He kept me sane. He kept the darkness constantly lurking in the back of my mind at bay.

"You should go," I managed to mumble, only partly against my will. "I don't even need the walker anymore. I'll be fine."

We were back at the hospital yesterday to get the stitches out of my forehead when Doctor Roberts popped in to check on me. Apparently, my hip was healing nicely and I could get away with only using a cane. Still embarrassing, but not nearly as demoralizing as using a walker.

Not being able to walk normally was a whole new level of frustrating. The only thing that held me back from pushing myself too hard was the memory of the first time I tried to stand up after the surgery. I still did my exercises and stretches and tried to keep myself moving as much as possible, but it was exhausting and infuriating to constantly have to move so slowly. My list of 'don'ts' was always running through my head with every movement.

Edward cupped my cheek, his hand warm and comforting enough to put me on the verge of making me beg him to stay. "Keep your phone with you."

I nodded. "I will."

"And don't use it to work."

I sighed. While I did miss the distraction that work usually brought me, I hadn't had the courage to even check my email. I had no idea how the whole situation had been handled, and I wasn't really sure I wanted to know. "I won't."

His eyes scanned my face, seeming to search every inch of my expression for a reason he should stay. As much as I wanted to give him one, I knew he had already put too much of his life on hold for me.

"I really will be okay," I told him, and myself. With a simple, elegantly arched brow he called me out on my lie. "Probably. We'll see."

Soft lips brushed the tip of my nose, traveling down my cheek before pressing against my own. He meant for it to be sweet and chaste, but I hooked my arms around his neck to keep him close. I got very few moments of peace and clarity since coming home, and they only came when I was able to fully relax against Edward. The kiss was a welcome bonus.

"Oh," Esme chuckled from somewhere behind me. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Your breakfast is ready, Bella."

I sighed, my cheeks heating up as Edward placed a final kiss to my cheek. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Nodding, I tried not to let my fear show on my face as I watched him drive away.

"You don't have to make me breakfast every morning," I told Esme as she walked slowly with me back to the kitchen. By the time I managed to sit down at the table, she put a plate of food in front of me. Scrambled eggs that were still steaming, two pieces of toast, a couple links of sausage, and a pile of fruit.

"Hush, and eat your eggs."

I popped a blueberry into my mouth and watched as Carlisle took a seat across from me. He placed a chess board on the table between us, wordlessly starting to place the pieces on their correct positions.

Carlisle and Jasper had tried to teach me how to play chess last year at Thanksgiving. I liked it; the need to plan ahead and guess your opponent's next move reminded me of my own job. I loved the challenge, but I absolutely sucked at the game.

"Are you trying to kick me when I'm down?" I asked. We both knew if we played, he would win. Over and over.

Carlisle smiled. "No. You'll get the hang of it, you just need to practice."

As I finished my breakfast, Carlisle reminded me of the rules. I might have sucked at the game, but I would take the distraction.

…Closure…

We sat outside on the patio. The beautiful tree right in the center gave us plenty of shade from the end of August heat. Someone down the street was mowing their lawn, the scent of fresh cut grass wafting through the air. Lady was inside barking at the vacuum as Masen cleaned up a box of spilled cereal.

A peaceful scenario diluted by the overwhelming fear rushing through my veins.

Doctor Stanley sat on the couch across from me. She was in more casual attire than usual, considering this was a house call. Her normal blouse and slacks were replaced by a comfortable looking grey t-shirt and jeans. Her tight pony tail was gone, her brownish blonde hair falling in waves down her shoulders. "How are you?"

"Peachy," I said quickly, tugging anxiously on a loose string in the seam of the pillow in my lap.

A tense silence fell between us. One I would happily sit in for hours if it meant I never had to talk about it.

"You fucking bitch! You could never keep your goddamn mouth shut!"

I flinched at the flashback. A movement that ironically accentuated the pain that followed those words in my memory. For a quick, terrifying moment, I wasn't in the safety of my own backyard. There was no warm sunlight filtering through the leaves above me, no lawnmower roaring in the background. There was the taste of blood in my mouth, an excruciating pain radiating down my right leg, and the heavy weight of knowing I was about to lose everything looming in my chest.

"I'm scared," I breathed out, tears quickly blurring my vision. "All of the time. Ever since I woke up in the hospital I've been petrified."

"Of what?"

"Of my own shadow. Of every stranger who walked into my hospital room. Of – "I stopped myself, swallowing back the lump in my throat before I could continue. "I'm scared that I'm not supposed to be happy. Because every time I am something comes in and destroys it. Every time I start to feel normal they come back and ruin everything."

I frowned down at my hands. "I had started to forget. To move on. I started thinking I could be normal and happy and I let my guard down and then he – "

"And then he tried to kill you."

I flinched at her bluntness.

"What happened doesn't mean you can never be happy, Bella."

"Yes, it does. Because things like that don't happen when I'm sad. Or maybe they just don't get to me as much. Its… easier to handle the bad things when I expect them."

"It's also harder to enjoy the good stuff when you're always looking over your shoulder."

I frowned over at her.

Doctor Stanley sighed patiently, leaning toward me. "Your step-brother didn't attack you because he somehow sensed you were moving on. He attacked you because his actions were finally catching up to him and he blamed you. He attacked because he grew up with his father and your mother letting him get away with everything and you've always been the one he took his anger out on. None of that is your fault, or anything you had any control over."

I shook my head. "I should have – "

"You did nothing wrong."

"But, I – "

"You did nothing wrong."

My eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking down my cheeks. My fingers dug into the couch cushions until my knuckles were white. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe Edward every time he said the same thing. But there was a wall up in my brain, one that was unwilling to budge on the fact that I was to blame. It was held together by years of Renee telling me as much, by every single unwelcome memory of Tyler and last Friday night that pushed through.

"This is your own fucking fault, Bella."

"You can't let them win," Doctor Stanley said eventually, her voice quiet but fierce.

They already did, I thought half a second before the words popped out of my mouth.

"No, they didn't. You have every right to be sad and hurt and angry for a while. The people who hurt you are going to pay for what they did and you are going to move on and have a life full of happiness and love and safety."

Doctor Stanley's words played on a loop in my mind long after our session ended. I stayed outside, mostly because I felt like I could breathe easier with the fresh air and only partly because I didn't have the energy to try and inch my way back in the house.

A life full of love and happiness and safety.

Those three things I had been desperate for since I was eight-years-old were sitting right in front of me, nestled inside the beautiful house. There was every kind of love I could want inside.

Carlisle and Esme had been more patient and understanding and supportive in the last five days than my own parents had the last ten years I lived with them. Alice and Jasper and Rosalie and Emmett were more like siblings than my various half-siblings had ever been. I could call any one of them and they would drop whatever they were doing to help me; I didn't even know any of my step-siblings' phone numbers. As odd as our dynamic was, I cared more and Masen and Lucy than I ever thought possible. And after everything that had happened this week I knew the feeling was mutual.

Then, there was Edward. Who had singlehandedly provided me with the perfect mixture of all three. I knew that was the reason why, ever since I woke up in the hospital, the only time I had a moment of peace was when he was close. Because nobody in my entire life had ever cared for me with such ferocity, had ever tried so hard to make me understand I didn't have to be defined by my past.

I only realized I was sobbing when I sucked in a breath and my ribs violently protested and the motion.

The last time, I promised myself. This would be the last time I cried over them. There would be no more mourning the father I hoped Charlie would be. No more letting the fear Tyler had instilled in me win. Never again would I listen to the malicious voices Renee had implanted in my mind.

This would be the last time I let them win.

Familiar arms eventually wrapped around me. I leaned into him as much as I could, still careful of not breaking any of my rules and bending my hip or waist in the wrong direction. It was only when I focused on his even breathing that I started to control mine, the tears slowing and my lungs filling evenly again.

Edward didn't ask any questions, not even after my cheeks were dry.

"Okay," I sighed, mostly to myself. I sat up, frowning at the odd angle I had been resting my hip. I stood up slowly, stretching my right leg in one of the few ways Lexi taught me to try and alleviate the soreness. "I'm done."

Edward frowned up at me. "Done?"

"Yes. Done. I'm not wasting my time or energy or tears on them anymore. I'm done."

Edward followed me into the house slowly. He always had a hand gently on my waist, ready to catch me if I fell. I could feel the curiosity rolling off of him in waves, but he still didn't ask any questions.

The doorbell rang just as we walked into the house.

"I'll get it," I said, making my way steadily down the hall toward the front door.

Rosalie and Emmett stood on the porch. Rosalie's frown quickly morphed into a smile when she saw me.

"Oh, hi," she beamed.

Considering I moved at a snail's pace, I hadn't done much in the days since I had been home. Answering the door was usually reserved for someone who could take a full step. I stepped to the side so they could come in.

"Everything okay?"

Rosalie handed me a piece of paper. "Yes. No. Do you know about this?"

I frowned down at the page. After a quick glance it seemed the two-year physical therapy program she had been enrolled in had been paid in full.

"You paid off your student loans?"

"No. I didn't."

My brows shot up at the obviously accusation in her voice. "You think I paid for it? I love you and all, but I can't afford to put down two years' worth of UCLA tuition."

"Your fiancé can. And he didn't just pay for mine. Emmett's was paid in full at the same time."

"Oh." My lips pursed together. I nodded, glancing back down at the sheet before handing it back to Rose. "Yes, that does sound like something he would do."

"Problem?" Edward asked, coming to stand beside me.

"You paid our tuition."

Edward nodded. "I did."

"You don't have to do that, Edward," Emmett spoke up.

"Bella could have very well died six days ago had it not been for both of you making sure she knew how to take care of herself. Paying your tuition is the least I can do."

Before Rosalie could argue, Esme called for her from the kitchen. Her and Emmett left quietly without another argument.

"That was nice of you," I said quietly.

Edward shrugged. "It's not enough, but it's a start."

I looked up at him, an uncontrollable smile spreading across my face. I couldn't stretch up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek like I wanted, so I settled for a quick peck against his shoulder.

…Closure…

"Do you need help?" I asked Esme, wandering into the kitchen as she cooked dinner. I sat at the island across from her.

Esme was surprisingly domestic. She had a home full of prestigious awards, had more money than anyone needed, yet she never let it get to her head. As far as I knew, she cooked a fair amount of her own meals. She didn't have a nanny raise her children. She never let her fame or notoriety get to her head. I had met far less accomplished people with much bigger egos.

"If you're up to it," she said with a smile. She grabbed a cutting board, an onion, and a knife and slid them in my direction.

"Oh, I'm not allowed to use the big knives," I told her quickly, pushing the large, sharp knife away slowly.

Esme looked at me with a confused frown. "Says who?"

"Edward."

Esme rolled her eyes, sliding the knife back in my direction. "I love my son, but he can be a tad dramatic."

I hesitated before picking it up. He was dramatic and protective, but he also had good reason when telling me I wasn't allowed to use the big knives. I made a conscious effort to keep track of all of my fingers as I lifted the knife to take a slice out of the onion. Before I could follow through, Lucy walked in and immediately frowned at me.

"She's not allowed to use the big knives."

I pressed my lips together, looking over at Esme and her exasperated face.

"Bella is an adult. She can use a knife."

"Dad's gonna be pissed if she ends up in the emergency room without a finger," Masen added, wandering in and heading straight for the pantry.

"I'll be fine," I said, about thirty seconds before the onion slipped out of my fingers and the knife clattered to the counter. I watched, more than a little horrified, as the onion rolled to a stop between two loafer-clad feet.

"This is why you're not allowed to use the big knives," Edward sighed, reaching down to grab the onion.

I sighed, pushing the knife back over toward Esme. She looked like she wanted to argue, then saw the jagged, crooked cut I managed to slice into the onion and seemed to think better of it.

Edward's hands landed on either side of my waist, his warmth radiating from behind me. His lips pressed into the top of my head. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

My stomach sank. He'd had a meeting with Jenks and the district attorney and a few other lawyers earlier this afternoon.

"Sure," I answered, impressed that I managed to do so without vomiting.

He grabbed my free hand, not once seeming frustrated at our slow pace as we made our way outside. I sat carefully on one of the couches on the patio beside the pool while Edward took a seat on the table across from me. He leaned with his elbows on his knees and grabbed both of my hands before I could start fidgeting.

"You have two options," he started, his voice tight but his eyes soft. "The DA has a solid case against him. They're ready to take him to trial for first-degree-attempted-murder. Option one is fighting him in court, going to trial."

My throat burned, bile rising up my esophagus.

"Tyler's lawyers want to cut a deal, though. He pleads guilty and instead of the possibility of a life sentence with parole in fifteen years, he gets a ten-year sentence."

Guilty. That was the only word I could focus on.

"He would admit it?" I asked, my own voice coming out harsher than I intended.

"Yes."

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. The idea of finally being proven right was hard to ignore, and I knew it was quickly clouding my judgement.

"What… what do you think we should do?"

Edward's brows furrowed, his hands squeezing mine. "Personally, I would like to see him rot in prison for the rest of his life," he snapped, though his anger was very obviously not directed at me. "I don't want you to have to go to court, though. Everyone was very adamant that in order to win you would need to testify."

Guilty. It was still the only thing I could focus on. I had memory after memory of Charlie telling me I was being dramatic. That I had overexaggerated my injuries or that I was blaming Tyler for nothing. For ten years I had listened to everyone discredit my experiences and the thought of finally being proven right sent an overwhelming sense of peace through my body.

I didn't want to go to court. Testifying wasn't something I thought I could handle. And, I read the news. I knew the world was predisposed to believe the poor man who was being accused rather than the victim who was, in a disturbingly large number of cases, obviously right.

"I want him to admit to everything," I said harshly, surprising myself. "I want him to have to go on record admitting that it was never all in my head. That I never made anything up."

My eyes met Edward's and I half expected him to push for a trial, for those extra few years of him being behind bars.

Instead, he nodded and squeezed my hand. "Okay."

A/N: As always, apologies for the wait. I do hope you enjoyed it, though :) I made a tentative outline for the rest of the story and I would guess there will be between 23-25 total chapters, just to let you all know. See you next time!