A/N: Gosh, you guys are spoiling me with reviews. I love it.

ARTIST OF THE WEEK:

Mumford & Sons

The song I used towards the end is called "The Cave". Go check it out!

I didn't eat dinner with him for a week. Every meal, every telegram, every phone call was taken in my own room and I made sure that I never ventured out when he was present in the house. It was fear and anger mixed deliciously together that kept me away from Edward, but I suppose that harlot they call Fate wanted it that way and no other. He had to be doing his own share of avoiding, as I never ran into him in the evenings when I traveled from the vast library to the main parlor- where he usually was from late afternoon until the evening. That was where his business phone was, as well as his typewriter (which I use to help him with, but no longer). It was times like these that I often thought about my own parents.

"You think of me blind, deaf, and dumb?" My mother screeched on the top of her lungs, sending the entire house into disarray. I shut my eyes, praying that someone would just barge in the door and save me from the heat of the moment. Maybe one of my traveling aunts- perhaps my father's work friends would come by on a surprise case and break up the fight. But no one came, and they only got louder. "Why, Charlie? Is it because she's young? Is it because you don't love me anymore?" Our one story house revolved around the hill that it sat on. Our surrounding neighbors were friendly and just peachy- but everyone understood that there was something more in the Swan household. People heard the yelling and knew when Charlie took off late at night.

"I don't feel like doing this right now, Rene. You're my wife, and if you acted a little more like it then you wouldn't feel so left out of my rather social lifestyle!" My dad was thirty-seven, my mother being five years younger than him; he wasn't supposed to be social. He had a twelve year old daughter to think about. By this time, he had already been out of jail long enough to regain his career and place in Chicago's elite squad. "And if you really want to know, yes- yes, Rene, you cant even walk in your shoes right like someone Tara's age can. You've gained weight around your middle, and so you stopped wearing that blue dress I used to love so much. Tara is none of your business anyway."

I heard something hit the wall, and the echoing sound of glass shattering hit the floor like a lead footstep. "None of my business! That little trollop is ruining my life- first my marriage, and now my image! Do you understand just what I have done for this family? And here you are, frolicking with any little skinny-legged broad walking by! Where was this little Tara when you were in State Penitentiary? Was she the one sneaking you baguettes and clean needles?" Rene's tone was an all-time high. "No, she wasn't there! No one but me was there for your no-good, lying, cheating poor-excuse-for-a-man self! Ho dare you complain about the minor changes in my appearance. At least I can maintain sexuality." At twelve, I misunderstood just what she meant by this. I assumed she was talking about her good looks, as my mother was very beautiful for her age.

But the next thing that happened totally confused me. "You couldn't pay another man to sleep with you, you pathetic harlot!" The sound of his tongue and mouth gathering saliva and the suddenly spitting it carried over to my room across the hall. I clutched my teddy bear and tucked my head under the blanket, trying to no avail to block oout their voices.

"Get out! Get out of here- get out now!" My mother screamed like a banshee, and loud thuds were heard all around. "Go to that girl you were fucking in the restroom! I hope she realizes how ill you are in bed, and you realize that you will have to pay me for any services I ever perform. Scum!" There bedroom door flew open, and out stepped two angry people. I could hear everything more clearly now. "That's all you are. Scum! My father was right- you were nothing but a loser from the beginning! A dirty cop, with more years than he could ever live to spend in prison- not so tough when you're sharing a cell with someone worse than yourself, right?"

It was a sound that I'll never forget- it's the calm before the break of porcelain, it's the moment right after the waves of the ocean lap onto shore, and it's the foul smell of a dog who's had one too many owners in his lifetime. Charlie slapped Rene right across her face, cracking her bottom lip and breaking the skin right above her upper lip- of course, I hadn't seen that until the next day. "Learn how to talk to a man. When I come back, I expect this filthy house to be cleaned and your mouth to stay shut." a few moments later, the sound of his Model T could be heard pulling away from the house, at top speed and loud enough to wake the next two neighborhoods.

Now that was a little bit older, I understood just how wrong that situation was. He was so pig-headed, and my mother was so allowing. But now I was no better, living with a man that slapped me against my soft cheek. A small bruise took the place of his hand imprint, and I refused to let anyone see me when I had another's marking on my ivory skin. I shouldn't have said all of those things. I shouldn't have put that record on. I shouldn't have drank anything. A series of soft knocks sounded at the door, but I stayed mute. If it was Alice, she would understand that I wanted to left alone. If it was Rosa… well, even I knew she was too busy these days to stop by just for a chat. And she didn't know how to knock on doors- she merely barged in on things. The mahogany door creaked open ever so slightly, and the mystery of whom would come into my door unwelcome was killing me. My eyes were red, my face was blotchy with tears from that morning, and I was still in a night dress though it was already late afternoon. I was in no state for visitors of any sort.

The eldest Cullenciano brother filled his way through the door and shut it softly behind him. Once I saw the crazy bronze hair and rolled up sleeves to his elbows, I looked away and pulled my duvet up around my waist. didn't he realize I wanted nothing more to do with him? Edward was the perfect example of a pig-headed man, just without my father's cold-hearted attitude. He had a heart, I still knew that. "Good afternoon, Bella." The leather bound bible suddenly became very interesting, more so that I didn't realize when his body created a dip in the mattress next to my legs. "Please look at me." His usually coarse voice was so smooth and violin-like. Why did he want me to? So he could memorize the way he morphed my face into something uglier? Was he going to gloat with his friends about how large the bruise was? I bet he was going to make a mental note of the peculiar shade of violet and navy blue it would be.

"Get out. Get out of my room." It was suddenly déjà vu. wasn't that nearly exactly what my mother said?

His heavy sigh made me cringe in desperation. If he threw me out… where would I go? How would I live, as a maiden in my older cousin's home? With the sister-in-law I never had? With parents that were long gone off of the grid of humanity? Déjà vu, again. I was thinking like a desperate housewife with no real world skills apart from husbandly-based ones- just like my own mother. "I wanted to invite you to dinner. It's been lonely eating on my own this week." His large hand patted my covered knee fondly.

I wanted to scream, "don't touch me," but I stayed reserved. Edward wasn't getting a reaction out of me. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you must be-" He began again, soft as could be.

"No, I'm not!" I rallied back. "Is this what you came for?" I swiftly turned my face and lifted a few strands of hair from my heart-shaped face tipped my chin in his direct gaze. "You wanted to see my horrible face to remind yourself how tough and strong you are? Well, here you go! Here it is." Tears formed in my eyes, but my mom never cried. I wouldn't cry.

His face was like stone, and I almost regretted being so confrontational. He obviously didn't come in my room, so softly and kindly, to start a fuss or go at it again. Edward's eyes left my face sooner than I imagined. "I am sorry, Isabella. I never meant to let the worse part of me hurt you." Well, it did. And there was no sorry in the world to take back what he did to me! "Please forgive me." I took a good look at him; were those real tears? Did he really mean that he was sorry- but then again, what did "sorry" mean to him? Did "sorry" mean that he was never going to do that again? Or was "sorry" a scapegoat to get past an obstacle just to repeat the mistake? "You're the greatest part of my life- it angered me to hear you say all of those foul things about the life that I thought you wanted. This house in the country- I bought it to make you happy. The stocked library on the second floor- created to fulfill every reading desire you could ever conjure. I have only wanted your happiness, Isabella."

Yeah, well, slapping someone like they were your household pet wasn't very near to "happiness" to me. "I do appreciate everything you've done for me. I am happy." I replied flatly. "I'm just lonely. I miss my parents, even if they weren't best thing to happen to me." The corners of my mouth lifted in my lame effort to smile. "I suppose the liquor cabinets will be locked for my safety also?"

His burly chuckle brought fresh life into my face. "And for your happiness, as well." The teasing bemusement in his eyes made me want to so something spontaneous. I had two immediate actions in my mind- clutch the golden-paged book and hit him across the face with it, or reach over the distance and plant a hard kiss against his open lips. I proceeded with the latter. And as I moved my lips with his, the tip of my tongue felt like it was occasionally rubbing against a small grain of sandpaper. I pulled back in a short retreat, as his lips opted to stay glued to mine- Edward's lips had always been so soft. He pulled me to him, stripping me of my protective blankets and multi-colored quilt and now sat upon his lap. With his impending erection pressing firmly near my back, I angled my lips away from his and took a good look at him. "I love when you stare at me like that." He replied in a low growl.

But I will hold on hope,And I won't let you choke-On the noose around your neck.

"What's this?" I touched the cut on his top lip softly, and pulled away when I mistook his crooked smile as a wince.

"A little brown-eyed girl half my size sent me a good one the other day. I kept the battle wound to show off to all of my pals downtown." My lower lip quivered. I did that to him? I touched it again, this time rubbing it in a soothing motion.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think I had it in me to actually… leave a mark." Wasn't I the one that was just complaining about other people leaving their branding upon me?

"I'll live." And he kissed me again.

I still hated him.

A/N:

I love their relationship, as dysfunctional as it may be. Abuse was too common in those days, unfortunately. And as far as her mother goes… well, Rene wasn't a fool. But she wasn't at all that smart, either. I wrote some of this chapter in vision of my own childhood, and I'd like to reach out to everyone out there who has grown up in an abusive home or is currently living in one.

You will prevail, and life does get better. Feel free to review with questions, complaints, comments. Anyone want to share a childhood "hang-up" that carried on into adulthood? I'd like to hear it.