IMPORTANT A/N

I am a 19-year-old Pre-Nursing student, going to school full-time, and working three part-time jobs on the side. I'm sorry that I suck at updating, but education is important, therefore I have to go to college. College is expensive, therefore I have to go to work. Work takes up much of my time, therefore… you get the point. As much as I love writing, more important things hold my attention at the moment. I appreciate the constructive criticism, the positive and negative feedback, ALL reviews, ALL favorites, and ALL follows. Stick with me, please. I have much planned for this story.

Love you all!

Izobella

CHAPTER 5

The small Mercedes glides along the empty highway smoothly. The whistle of the wheels on the road and thrum of the engine lull me into the space between dreams and reality, somewhere I'd rather not be. But today's happenings have drained my psyche, and I slowly drift further and further into the depths of my slumber.

James grunted as he dragged me behind him before stopping and turning abruptly, cloaking me in darkness. The moon shone behind him, and I focused my eyes on the face I saw there, rather than the face that was sneering at me.

My lack of interest in him made him mad.

His hand suddenly gripped my neck tightly, forcing my head back on the building he had hidden us behind. Pain radiated from where he gripped, and I choked out a strangled plea. The smell of alcohol coated his heavy, hot breath as he leaned close to me, the tip of his tongue grazing my cheek.

His grip on my neck slowly loosened, and I gasped for air as he turned me around, my back toward him. My forehead slammed into the solid brick wall, and I became dizzy.

So very dizzy.

One of his hands kept hold of my neck, pressing my face into the wall, while his other slowly crept down my back and under the hem of my pants. My vision started to cloud and I whimpered at the darkness that greeted me, relieved that I didn't have to experience this.

This moment... I could live without.

The rough denim of my jeans gave way and scraped down my thighs, crumpling pathetically at my feet. His hands grappled at my panties roughly, and my hazed mind suddenly cleared.

I need to get away.

I jerked my shoulders back and forth feebly, pushing my hands against the rough bricks. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my knee when he kicked my leg out from under me, and threw my head up against the wall again.

THUMP!

I jerk awake suddenly, my hands fluttering around to steady myself.

THUMP!

"I apologize, Isabella. The road to our home is quite bumpy; plenty of potholes." Carlisle murmurs humbly from the front seat.

My breathing is ragged and my hands tremble as I press my fingers against the long scar cutting my eyebrow in half. The other rubs gently over my stomach. She flops around in my belly quickly, reminding me of a flittering butterfly. I press my hand against my belly button, willing her to calm down. After a moment of my firm massage, her quick jerks turn into soft nudges and I relax against the seat behind me.

THUMP!

The thick scar tissue on my forehead stings, and salty tears spill over the rims of my eyes, falling softly on my ever-growing chest.

I glare at my breasts angrily, willing them to shrink. I know that being angry won't change what happened. I just can't help but abhor that sick bast-

"The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief." I start and turn at the melodic sound of Edward's voice next to me; he hadn't spoken a word since our "conversation" in the hospital.

The wheels in my head turn slowly, trying to process his words.

"William Shakespeare," he mumbles, reading my eyes for a breath before turning his attention back toward the passing greenery.

I tilt my head to the side, assessing his slouched posture. He looks so meek, so defeated.

"Othello," I blurt. His eyes widen at the beautiful trees out the window, and his lips curl up on one side.

"I'm surprised," he turns to look at me, his crooked smile growing wryly. "Not many people know that one. It's usually Romeo and Juliet that people appreciate."

"I hate Romeo and Juliet." His eyes widen slightly at the bitterness in my voice. "It just seems so... Pointless. I mean, why kill yourself over someone you just met? I suppose if she had known him for the entirety of her life, and vice versa, it might have made some sense. But it just... Doesn't." He nods thoughtfully, his eyes boring into my own. "There's only one thing I can truly understand from the entire tragedy."

"And what's that?" he asks inquisitively. I look down at my protruding abdomen, caressing the skin through my shirt.

"'My only love," I swallow thickly. "Sprung from my only hate'." I don't look back up at him, my eyes wetting once again.

I feel his warm finger tuck under my chin, pulling my face up toward his. He peers at me carefully for a moment, assessing my eyes thoughtfully. My eyebrows furrow at the pain I see reflected there, the understanding pupils and emerald irises of a beautiful and... broken boy.

Not meek. Not defeated.

Broken.

Edward is broken.

My lungs fill with his warm breath as he leans closer, staring intently into my eyes. I want to pull away from the contact, away from the unfamiliar buzz radiating from his lone finger under my chin. But his tormented eyes stun me, and I can't help but keep my pupils locked with his. A sudden flutter in my stomach confuses me; it's not her. It's something else entirely. Something I've never felt before now.

He exhales deeply, blowing his intoxicating breath over my face. I take his scent in deeply, and completely relax as his forehead touches my own. My eyes drift shut after his and we breathe slowly for an eternal moment.

I can't pull away.

Suddenly, the subtle warmth of his solid skin is gone, leaving a bitter cold in its wake. I blink and look around me, disoriented.

Edward pulls the door handle quickly and jumps up out of the car gracefully. I watch in silent confusion before I realize that the car has stopped moving. I reached for the handle of my own door, but grasped at empty space when it is pulled away from me.

I look to see Carlisle peering at me with a furrowed brow, his lips turned down at the corners. His eyes flicker away for a moment, and I follow his stare to see Edward stalking up a set of large stairs toward an absolutely beautiful house.

"Whoa..." I murmur in awe, and jump when I hear a tinkling voice call my name.

"Gorgeous isn't it? Esme designed it. We built it from the ground up. It was one hell of a family project, that's for sure." The small girl jumps in front of Carlisle abruptly and bends over me to grab the small bag at my feet. As she straightens, she grabs my forearm excitedly, yanking me up with her. I yelp loudly at the ache that emanates from where her hand clutches at my sensitive skin. She recoils from me quickly, apologizing profusely.

I open my mouth to assure her that I'm not upset with he –

BANG!

A high-pitched ringing sounds around me, filling my mind and screaming over every other noise.

I fall to my knees on the dirt below me, clutching my stomach tightly as the blood spreads around my body. I clench my eyes shut and press my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the scream, trying to ignore the blood that is splattered over the walls around me.

So much blood.

"Jasper!" Carlisle's scared holler is muffled.

"I can't," an unfamiliar voice yells back. "...too much... not... a hold of..." the voice fades away.

Chilled arms wrap around me suddenly, holding me tightly. Cool fingers lace through my own, and pull my hands away from my head.

Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me, love.

The room around me fades, as does the blood, and my eyes fly open, meeting vivid green. I see my crazed reflection staring back through his pupils, wide eyes bloodshot, mouth open in loud gasps.

You're here with me. You're safe. His lips never move, but I hear his sweet voice in my ears, soothing my aching heart and throbbing head. Breathe, my love. I'm here.

I feel a sudden prick in my arm, and I fall against his chest, mentally exhausted, physically drained. My fingers and toes start to numb, and I lay my head over his chest.

Sleep, baby. I'll be here when you wake.

The numbness slowly travels up my legs and arms, toward my head. In my fuzzy and hazy state though, I realize that the skin below my ear doesn't throb, doesn't pulse. I try to concentrate fully on him, on his heart. I listen intently, but soon lose my train of thought and start searching through my clouded mind for what I am listening for.

Darkness slowly creeps into my vision at the edges, and I stare up at the setting sun with my head still resting on his silent chest.

Silent.

Panic rises in my throat as I drift away. But before it reaches the surface I fall slowly into nothingness, toward darkness and silence...

Silent.

"Come here, Isabella." Victoria hooked her finger back, motioning for me to walk over to her. I stood in the doorway hesitantly and stared at the white powder clinging to the tip of her crooked finger. The color contrast was almost mesmerizing in the dimly-lit room. The candlelight flickered across all available surfaces. It cast shadows against the wall, making the piles of dirty laundry and trash look intimidating.

James had forgotten to pay the electric bill.

Again.

"Come here." She insisted impatiently, curling her finger repeatedly at me. I stepped over a discarded beer bottle, careful not to walk on the glass of a broken ashtray with my bare feet. The cracks in the hard-wood floor had my full attention as I sunk down onto the bare mattress that lay on the floor, next to Victoria.

She placed her hand on my knee, squeezing gently, before trailing her fingers up my thigh slowly. Her other hand brought a piece of broken black porcelain up toward my face, white powder, a rolled up dollar bill, and an old gift card laying on the edge. I stared blankly at the broken plate as the red headed woman's fingers drifted higher up my leg, landing just beneath my hip.

"Go on," she said. "You know you want to. You seemed to enjoy it last time." My breath caught in my throat as bile rose up my chest, but I pushed it back down quickly, inhaling deeply. Her hand massaged my thigh through my sweat pants and she placed an open mouthed kiss on my shoulder, her tongue flicking at my skin.

My stomach tightened as her fingers slithered closer toward the apex of my thighs.

I snatch the tight bill off the plate, and press down on my left nostril as I lean forward, pushing the end of the paper into my nose. I breathed in deeply, flinching at the uncomfortable burn in my nose, then relaxing at the numb feeling in my face.

I pulled again through my right nostril, then fell back on the naked mattress, staring at the ceiling fan intensely as Victoria placed the plate on the floor in front of her. Her hand resumed its place on my thigh, rubbing back and forth softly before moving her fingers up under the thick, oversized sweater I wore.

She liked it when I wore James' clothes.

My heartbeat quickened; she leaned over, lifting my shirt and pressing her lips just below my belly button.

My fingers twitched; her lips crawled higher up my flat stomach.

My nose started to run; she pulled off my sweater, laving her tongue across one nipple, then the other.

My vision started to shake and my eyes widened; her fingers hooked around the waistband of my panties.

My breath shuddered out of my lungs; she trailed her fingers back up my legs.

My hands pulled at my hair roughly; her fingers rubbed over my clit, so gently, so teasingly.

Her breath fanned over my cheek as she touched me, and I shivered at the unwanted pleasure that pulsed from my center. She yanked my head to the left abruptly with her free hand, and pulled at my chin until my mouth popped open slightly. Her tongue snaked its way into my mouth and tangled with my own as I gasped. I whimpered and bit down lightly on her tongue when she curled her fingers inside me.

I felt her smirk against my mouth, and groaned in frustration.

I hate this.

Victoria's tongue left mine slowly, her mouth moving down over my jaw, my neck, my chest, my stomach, my –

I gasped and reached down, grasping at her hair between my legs. My knees bent, my toes curling against the mattress.

I hate this.

Tears rolled freely down my face as I threw my head back, my chest arching upward as she sucked on me.

I hate this.

She curled her fingers inside me again, and I was suddenly thrown off the cliff, up into the stars, and then I fell down, down, down...

I wake with a start in a soft, strange bed, blinking rapidly at the darkness that surrounds me. A heavy comforter covers my body up to my chest, creating an almost unbearable heat between the sheets. The gentle, constant thrum of a fan teases me from across the room.

Featherlike touches trace over my arm, creating pleasurable goose bumps over my skin. I turn toward the strange feeling.

The moonlight reflects off of his copper locks. It glimmers over his pale skin, making it almost white. His emerald eyes are downcast, and his lips are set in a permanent frown. His auburn eyebrows furrow in pain, and mine scrunch questioningly.

After a long silence, he finally speaks.

"Are you-" A crack in his voice causes him to shift in his seat and clear his throat. "Are you okay?"

At my silence, he looks up to me. The vulnerability is easy to read when his eyes meet mine. I try my hardest not to let him see how unsettling his touch is, but he seems to catch on when I shift my arm farther from his reach, pulling away from me quickly. An abrupt emptiness radiates through my chest when his hands leave my arm.

"Where am I?" I ask. I reach down toward my stomach to comfort her, but a small tug stops my hand from moving any further. I turn to see an IV bag stands a few feet away, a small clear tube pulled tight between the pole and my bed. A heart monitor sits just below the IV bag, a green line pulsing up and down rapidly, but no noise comes from the speaker on the side of the screen.

"Your room." He says simply, shaking his head. "Bella, how are you?" He insists.

"I'm f-" The word fine stuck in my throat at the harsh flicker in his eyes. "I've been better." I relent. Edward's breath whooshes out of him, and his hands come up to rub his face vigorously. "What happened?" His head snaps up and his eyes lock on mine.

"You don't remember?" He questions frantically. I shake my head, lost. His shoulders sag. He seems almost... relieved? "What's the last thing you do remember?"

I think for a moment, recalling my sickening dream, and the soft, cool touch of his skin against mine. Blush crawls up my neck, blooming throughout my face.

"I remember... Our talk... And when you got out of the car." I surmise, feeling unsure. I look toward him to see him searching my face. Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot echoes through my mind. My eyes narrow. "There was… A really loud bang…" I trail off, staring at my painfully picked-at cuticles.

After a moment of quiet, he clears his throat.

"Emmett," Edward scoffs. "Emmett found this piece of crap truck that he wanted Rosalie to fix up for you… It backfired while he was driving it into the garage." My eyes flick up to his, widening in understanding. "You kind of froze, and then you… I guess you had a panic attack. You fell and hit your head." He finishes quickly, his eyes fixed on mine, and my brows furrow in embarrassment.

"I'm..." I sigh. "I'm sorry." My fingers lift toward my eyebrow, caressing the scar tissue imbedded in my forehead. Edward breathes deeply, quickly.

"When I was thirteen," he speaks swiftly, but in a hushed tone. "my mother and I were on the way to visit my father at work. The streets were really crowded because it was around Christmas time, and last-minute shoppers were... well... last-minute shopping." He chuckled somberly. "My mother... she was seven months pregnant, and had wanted to buy some baby clothing at a small boutique down the street from my father's building.

"She was so very excited about what she had bought that she couldn't wait for my father to come home before she showed him. She was a very... forceful personality. But no one could say no to her - especially not me - because of what a wonderful woman she was." His eyes shine with the memories, and I listen intently, hanging onto every word.

The curves in his lips suddenly drop, straightening into a tight line. "We weren't even a block away from his building when a man with a gun came up behind my mother, holding it to her head." His eyes harden, anger the only evident emotion. "She yelled at me to run, but he grabbed my arm, pulling me back toward him.

"He threatened to shoot me if she didn't give him everything she had with her; even the damned baby clothes." He scoffs at the absurdity, lost in his memory. "She froze, breathing loudly, and holding her stomach. She just kept… whimpering?" He stated it like a question. "I can't seem to get the sound out of my head… And then she just… fell. She fell on her knees, holding her head and rocking back and forth." He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. "That was the first panic attack I'd ever seen, the first time I had ever actually seen genuine fear. And watching you just... crumble... it almost killed me to see that again." He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing up and down.

I stay mute, focused on her random twitches in my belly.

"I'm sorry," he says finally. "I don't really know where that came from."

"Was she okay? Your mom, I mean." I murmur quietly, holding my breath until it hurts. His eyes snap up to mine, glassy and emotional.

"She died..." He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "He shot her twice in the head. Right in front of me." My own breath leaves in a shaking gasp, my lungs burning violently.

I know that feeling.

I know how he feels.

The fingers of my free hand twitch, reaching for him softly, but the door across the room squeaking open steals my attention.

Carlisle walks in cautiously, Esme trailing behind him with a cramped tray in her hands. A cliché tea set takes up half of the board, steam lifting heavily from the delicate tea pot spout. Two small plates take up the other half of the tray, a single muffin sitting on each one. The tiny blue specks throughout the pastry give away its flavor, and I smile.

Blueberry is my favorite.

"Hello, Isabella." Carlisle's speaks loudly, but his voice still reminds me of gentle silk. "How are you feeling?" His cold fingers press down on my temples, poking and prodding my head until they reach the back of my neck. His hands curl around the sides of my neck, and he softly turns my head back and forth. "Does that hurt?" He asks tenderly. I try to shake my head, but his hands don't budge. I chuckle without humor.

"Nah, I feel fine." My eyes flicker to Edward, and see one of the small platters in his lap. His long fingers pluck the blue spots out of the bread, and he lifts every berry to his mouth individually, sucking the remnants off of each finger slowly.

My stomach flutters, and I blush.

Blueberry is my favorite.

Esme stands behind him, her hands running through his hair affectionately. He closes his eyes slowly, leaning into her hand and unwinding at her touch.

"- sound if you'd like?" I hear only the end of Carlisle's question, and ask him sheepishly to repeat what he said. He smiles. "I said that I would feel more comfortable if we did a quick check up on the little one." He gestures to my stomach. "Do you think you'd feel comfortable with doing an ultrasound?" I freeze immediately, focusing my attention of my swollen abdomen. I haven't seen her in almost a month.

I nod hesitantly, one hand resting on the top of my stomach and slowly curling my other fingers around the bottom of my enlarged tummy. My breath leaves me in a stiff puff.

"I would... Love to."