16

BPOV

The jolt of the car stopping had me tensing. Hours had passed and I'd floated in and out of consciousness. My tears had long dried up, my throat ached from screaming and begging for help. My fists felt raw from beating on the trunk, trying in vain to free myself.

The car shifted as Gabriel Varner climbed out from behind the wheel and a moment later, the trunk popped open and I once again found myself face to face with my stalker.

"HELP!" I screamed, pushing him away and trying to scramble out of the trunk. His hand covered my mouth, muting my attempts to scream as he dragged me out of the trunk, almost throwing me on the ground.

I searched my surroundings as he dragged me through the parking lot, feeling my body tense as I saw the Forks High School sign. He'd brought me back to Forks, back to the people who'd turned their backs on me and called me a whore.

My nails cracked and tore as I clawed at his arms, trying to free myself. As Gabriel paused to unlock the door to the school, I managed to dislodge his arms from around me. I took off running through the parking lot, screaming, "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"Shut your fucking little mouth, you fucking little whore!" Gabriel snarled, tackling me to the ground. His hand covered my mouth again, and he brought his other arm up around my neck, cutting off the air supply to my lungs. Tears poured down my face as my vision darkened as he dragged me inside the building, down the hallway, and into his classroom. He tossed me on the floor, not caring when I hit the edge of one of the desks, feeling it cut into my hip.

I scrambled to my feet and ran to the windows, but before I could open one of them, Gabriel grabbed me by the hair and pulled me backward. He threw me on top of his desk, climbing on top of me so that he was straddling me, pinning my arms against my side.

He was panting, his chest heaving as he stared down at me. A devilish smirk curved his lips upward. "The first time I saw you," he started, his words soft and breathy, "I knew I wanted you. You were standing in the doorway of this room, beautiful and sexy. Your skin was pink and flushed, and I wanted to slam you against the wall and fuck you like the whore I knew you were."

"Let me go," I cried. "Please, let me go."

However, he ignored me as he grabbed the front of my tee and ripped it open, exposing my breasts. He slid his hand up, cupping my breasts, his fingers toying with my nipple.

"HELP ME!" I screamed.

"SHUT UP!" he roared, backhanding me. "You're mine! MINE! You stupid cunt!"

"I'm not yours," I wept, tasting blood in my mouth. "I'll never be yours!"

"You've always been mine," he snarled, wrapping one hand around my throat as he scrambled off me, yanking me after him. His other hand came up to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. Gabriel pinned me against the white board, leaning in so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. "I'll make sure nobody ever wants to touch you again. When I'm done with you, you'll be begging me to kill you."

"Did Jennifer Varner beg you to die?" I choked out, trying in vain to free myself. A creepy smile spread across his face, one that had me trembling. "Aro. That's your real name, isn't it?"

"So, you've done your research, have you?" he laughed, pulling me away from the white board and throwing me into his desk chair.

With one hand still wrapped around my throat, he pulled the bottom drawer of the desk open. It appeared empty, but them, he removed a false bottom, revealing several pairs of handcuffs, a couple knifes, and dozens of pictures of me from the past four years. As he reached for a pair of cuffs, I used my foot to push him off me, scrambling out of the chair.

"You little slut!" he roared as I threw open the door to the room and spirited down the hallway, searching for any way out.

It was dark, too dark for me to see my way around. Every door I tried was locked. Tears trickled down my face and my legs hurt, my lungs ached, and my heart felt like it would explode, but I kept running, searching for freedom.

"Isabella!" Aro yelled. "When I find you, I'm going to enjoy hurting you! I bet your pussy is tight and warm. None of the little bitches I've fucked live up to the fantasies I've had about you."

A sob bubbled to the tip of my tongue as I scrambled to find someplace to hide. I could hear him running behind me, almost feel his hands on my body again, and a shudder of disgust shook me to my soul. I wanted Carlisle.

Grabbing the doorknob to the office, I used my shoulder to push the door open and dropped to the floor, crawling around the counter to Mrs. Cope's desk. I threw my hand on top of the desk and searched for the phone, knocking several of her pictures off, as well as a pencil holder, an inbox tray, and the mouse to her computer. Finally, I found the phone and pulled it on the floor with me, but there wasn't a dial tone.

"God, please help me," I cried, letting it fall off my lap.

I heard a noise outside of the office, so I quietly crawled under the desk. I covered my mouth with my hand when the door creaked open.

"Isabella," Aro sang. "I know you're in here. You're too smart not to go for the phone, but, you see, I'm smarter. I know you better than you know yourself. I've been watching you for years. It was easier after I killed your father, of course. A little B and E, and he came running to help. He was a little too observant for his own good. Caught me watching you more than once. Taking him out . . . Oh, Isabella, I enjoyed watching the life drain from his body as I stood over his body."

I tightened my hand over my mouth, but the tears kept falling. Gabriel Varner/Aro Volturi had killed my father, had turned my mother into a drunk.

"Got you!" he yelled, grabbing my foot and pulling me out from under the desk.

"No! Help me!" I screamed, kicking at him while trying to wrap my arms around the leg of the desk, but it was futile.

He dragged me out of the office and down the hallway toward his classroom once more, but before he could pull me inside, a loud bang filled the air, and he stiffened before dropping to his knees and falling forward, hitting the floor with a loud thud. I scrambled away from him and looked back, finding Jake and Sam standing at the end of the hallway, each of them with their guns pointed at the man who'd kidnapped me.

The site of them standing there, the realization of what Gabriel or Aro, or whoever he really was, planned to do to me, months of being scared, the pain of leaving my husband and child, my family behind, the image of Peter laying in the middle of the street, his body bloody and broken, hit me all at once. Loud, hysterical sobbing erupted from my chest, and I curled up against the lockers behind me, trying to keep from screaming as Jake and Sam called for backup.

"Bella," Jake said, kneeling in front of me. "Honey, it's okay."

"Not . . . okay," I sobbed. "Not . . . okay."

"No, I guess you're right," he murmured, pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around my shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

—TW—

Though I resisted, Jake insisted that I go to the hospital. He rode in the ambulance with me, while the rest of the Forks' Police Department handled the crime scene. When we got to the hospital, Dr. Gerandy was standing next to the nurses' station, watching as Jake led me into one of the trauma rooms. There was an unnerving smirk on his lips, like he knew everything I'd been through and felt I deserved every bit of it. Maybe I did. I'd been reckless and stupid, after all.

"Um, I'm just gonna . . ." Jake gestured to the door and turned away from me, but before he could walk out of the room, I said, "How'd you know I was there?"

Jake paused and looked back at me. "Mrs. Landry from across the street heard you screaming. She . . . Well, she thought it was a prank at first, but then she heard you again. Called me at home, said she didn't want to be a bother. I almost didn't check it out, figuring she'd just heard some kids out parting or something." Jake paused, a frown tugging on his lips. "But I thought about your dad, and how he'd never would have ignored a call. So, um, I called Sam, and . . ."

"He killed him," I whispered. "My father, I mean. He told me that he was the one who killed him." My lips trembled as I sunk to the floor. "He killed him. He killed him. He killed him, Jake! He fucking killed him!"

Jake rushed over to me, knelt next to me, and reached for me, but I pulled away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I screamed. "I told you he was dangerous. I begged you to help me, but you didn't believe me. You'd rather call me a whore than protect me!"

"Bella, I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Get out!" I screeched. "Fucking get out!"

Jake sighed, but stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me on the floor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I cried until my tears refused to fall.

—TW—

Hours passed, yet I couldn't drag myself off the floor. My body ached. I was physically, emotionally, mentally exhausted, yet I wouldn't be able to sleep, either.

The door to the room opened and I lifted my head off my knees, groaning when Dr. Gerandy walked in. He shifted his eyes down to mine, an all-knowing expressing on his face. I wanted to punch him. To scream at him to stop looking at me, but I didn't. I just sat there.

"Are you injured?" he asked. When I didn't respond, he pulled the rolling stool over and sat in front of me, crossing his legs at the knee. "Did Mr. Varner hurt you?"

I shifted my eyes from him, focusing on a cluster of flowers in one of the paintings. "Why do you care? Doesn't this just prove that you were right about me? That I'm . . . useless and . . ." I brought my hand up to my mouth, stifling my tears. "The night my father died, you held my mother while she cried. She'd lost the love of her life, and you held her and let her cry. You were kind and gentle with her, reassured her that there were people that care about her, that would help her. But not me. No, you call me an ungrateful bitch."

"When they brought your father in that night, he was barely alive," Dr. Gerandy said, drawing my attention back to him. "He'd already lost too much blood, and he was in and out of consciousness. Right before he died, he grabbed my hand and made me promise to watch over your mother, to keep her safe."

"Didn't do a very good job, did you?" I whispered. "She turned into an angry, hateful drunk, who'd rather lose herself in a bottle of vodka than be my mother. I needed her, and she needed a bottle of booze." I shook my head. "The only person who saw me, saw how much I hurt every day, was Carlisle. He gave me a reason to smile and laugh. He's an amazing man, a truly wonderful man, but all you could see was a few years difference."

"Ten years and two children isn't a few years, Bella," he said, softly. "You may not have been a child, but you weren't woman, either."

"But he's my choice," I argued, almost pleading with him to understand.

"And he'd already lived a lifetimes worth before you," he countered. "He went to college and medical school, got married, had babies."

"So?" I muttered.

Dr. Gerandy sighed. "I never had children of my own. My wife and I tried for years, but were unable to conceive. I threw myself into my work. I've been taking care of you since you were a baby, Bella. I remember getting phone calls from your mother at three in the morning because you were running a fever. Or your father carrying you into the E.R. with a broken leg because that McCarty boy talked you into jumping out the tree in your backyard." He paused, a coy smile on his lips. "Suppose I've always thought of you as mine. If Carlisle makes you happy, Bella, then so be it. The opinion of an old man like myself doesn't matter to you, anyway."

Dr. Gerandy stood up. "Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head. "Just a few bruises."

Dr. Gerandy nodded before he walked over to the door and opened it. Pausing for a moment, he looked back at me. "She's ready for you."

I wasn't sure who he was talking to until he moved out of the doorway and I found myself looking up at Carlisle. Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet. "Hey."

"Hey," he whispered, stepping into the room and letting the door close behind us. "Are you okay?"

My lips trembled as I shook my head. "Had better days."

"Me, too," he whispered. "You promised that you'd never leave me."

I shifted my eyes from him. "I know."

"You fucking promised!" he snapped.

"I know," I cried, wrapping my arms around myself. "I know, Carlisle, I fucking know!"

"Why? Why'd you leave?" he asked.

"I told myself it was to protect you, to protect the boys," I said, quietly. "I really believed I was saving you. That he'd . . . that he'd leave you alone and just come after me. But Peter came after me, told me I was being an idiot. He convinced me to go back with him, but . . ." Tears flooded my eyes as I brought my hand up to my mouth. "Peter's gone, isn't he?"

Carlisle barley nodded his head.

The tears I'd been fighting spilled down my cheeks and I wept for the father I'd barely knew, the man who'd loved me like I was his own. It wasn't until I felt Carlisle's hands on either side of my face that I realized he'd moved across the room.

"I'm sorry," I wept. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too," he whispered before nestling me in his arms. "Me, too, sweetheart."