A/N for 2018-10-19: Nice to see so many new readers - thanks for following along. And for those of you who leave your words, special thanks. Means a lot.

As for the story, I say this: Sometimes, getting better isn't so pretty. Certainly the case here for Bella.

~ Erin

Drawn

Jacob wasn't there when Bella got home. She was glad for it.

Billy appeared to be forewarned, eyeing her warily as she came in the door.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Then there was an awkward silence.

She really wanted to yell at him. Tell him off for keeping what he had from her, but yelling at Billy...looking at him, hands folded on his lap, face placid, all the energy left her, and she was suddenly tired—feeling as wrinkled and rubbery as a deflated balloon.

Sitting down at the table, she mirrored his posture with her hands. "Jake told me about my Dad."

Billy sighed. "I know. He told me. You shouldn't have heard it from him, Bella."

"No, I shouldn't have. I should've heard it from you. A long time ago."

Here Billy raised an eyebrow. "Really? You think that would've been a kindness, do you? When exactly?"

"You—"

"Shoulda told ya when your Dad died?"

She shut her mouth.

"Or when I found you bought by a Cullen in Seattle?"

An angry blush stole up her face.

"Or when Jake sliced you up?"

"Before now, Billy," she growled out.

"I don't doubt it," he sighed, his aggression gone. "I'm sorry. I should have, yes, but I knew it wouldn't do you any good. Just make things worse again."

"The truth is hard to hear Billy, but that doesn't mean you keep it from them."

"Yes, Bella, it does." He looked hard at her. "I would know that better than you."

She went to open her mouth, but his words rode over her attempt.

"You don't think I didn't want to tell the people I care about to be careful, not to be on their own? Because I wanted to. And I couldn't. No plausible reason for it. All I could tell your dad—" His voice broke.

She swallowed, understanding. No, he couldn't have.

"What else?" she husked out. "What else is there that I don't know?"

"To do with what?"

"Werewolves, vampires, my Dad, anything else I need to know." Saying these words sounded so preposterous still, she almost laughed, hearing them roll off her tongue so naturally. Almost.

"I'm sure there's more that you don't know of the wolves, but I'll leave the telling to them," he shrugged. "You know as much as I do, Bella."

Edward had been clear. There was more. "Are you sure?"

His eyebrows knit together. "What are you asking, Bella?"

"Is there something that I need to know about you, or Jake?"

He didn't react until she said Jake's name, and then there was a flicker of something on his face.

"There is, isn't there?"

Billy didn't exactly scowl, but he frowned purposefully. "I'll speak for myself, Bella. Jacob can do the same." Then he pushed himself away from the table. "I'm going to get dinner ready. You hungry?"

Her teeth felt tight, pressed together as they were under the clench of her jaw. She'd been dismissed. "Sure."

As they worked together, hands coordinated where words were not, Bella thought over what Billy had said, wondering what Jacob would have to say.

- 0 -

Charlotte lifted her chin to Bella's notebook, sitting where it'd been slapped. "You're upset, that you can't draw."

"Oh, I can draw just fine," Bella breathed out. "It's what I want to draw that disturbs me."

"What is it you want to draw?"

"What happened to me."

Charlotte nodded. "I see. What would be bad about drawing that?"

Bella looked at the woman. She was middle-aged, plump, and dressed in jeans and a sweater. She looked far too comfortable to be discussing what they were talking about.

"About drawing me being fucked?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Can we talk about how you just described that?"

"I'm sure we will," Bella gritted out.

"Only if you want to, Bella."

After a moment, Bella hushed out a soft, "Sorry." She knew this woman was trying to help her, but the help twanged at strings that felt better left unsounded.

"It's fine." Charlotte shrugged. "I'm not offended."

Bella picked at a piece of lint on her shirt, and then put her hands, fingers spread out, over her knees. "I know. We talked about this. I get it. It just—I don't believe it."

"You won't if you hold onto those ideas. It's your choice, Bella, but I'd be irresponsible not to point out that you had no means to give consent. You were threatened and drugged. You were compelled."

"You'd think differently if you'd seen it," Bella said, reddening.

"Is that why you don't want to draw it?" Charlotte asked quietly.

Yes. That was precisely it.

"What would be the worst that would happen, if you did draw it, Bella?"

"You'd see that. You'd know you were wrong."

"My not believing you would be the worst thing?"

"Not you, no. But it wouldn't help. Other people…" she shrugged.

"Does it matter to you, what others think?"

"They already think the worst."

"And Edward?"

Here Bella's jaw tightened.

"Not Edward, then?"

"Yes, I'm afraid of what he might think."

"You wouldn't have to show him, Bella. Drawing can sometimes just help, especially if you feel compelled to do so."

"There's also being afraid of people seeing them."

"Of course. Do you not have somewhere safe you can keep your things? A lock on your door?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust people to respect your privacy?"

She would have said yes to this about Billy and Jacob the week before, but now...when they'd kept the real cause of Charlie's death from her.

Edward had too, she reminded herself.

But he'd also promised to tell her anything she needed to know.

"Have you talked to Edward about what happened to you?" Charlotte prodded gently.

"I think he's probably figured most of it out." She'd been a whore. It didn't take much imagining.

"Have you told him?" Charlotte persisted.

Bella shook her head.

"It's natural to be afraid, Bella, but trust takes risks—and the benefits don't come without them. You might consider starting with something small."

"Like what?"

"The beginning of your story. What happened to you when you left here."

She doubted she'd need to. He'd likely gleaned it from the minds of those around her.

"It might help you to talk about it with someone you trust."

This felt like a small jab. Bella looked up at her counsellor. No, her face was placid. Not an insult. She hadn't exactly talked much with Charlotte, avoiding the gorier details as much as she could.

To her credit, Charlotte had not confronted her about this, accepting what she was offered, suggesting and prodding gently elsewhere.

"So are you going to try some drawing?"

"Sure." Why not?

- 0 -

She'd used charcoal for her first rendition, putting to paper the image that haunted her most. This dusty work was housed in a wide sketch book she'd bought at the local dry goods store in Forks. She'd stopped there immediately after her appointment, spending more than she knew it was worth, but wanting the immediacy of the release. She hadn't even blinked at the price they asked for the pencils—three times what they were worth. The pages were thick, and vellum like. The charcoal meant a commitment to her drawing that forced her to think before she put it to the page.

There was a long break before English class and after history. Most students moved as a noisy group towards the baked goods offered at the cafeteria, but Bella preferred the quiet at the back of Mr. Mason's class. He ignored her, and she pretended he wasn't there. It was a mutually appreciated arrangement.

She hadn't drawn at school before, and certainly nothing like what she hid in her book now, but the first image that she'd poured onto the page had revealed another one under it in her mind. Too tired from exorcising the first, she'd put off starting the next one, but now, it was insistent, obscuring most other thoughts and pursuits.

Pulling the book out, she checked around the room. Alone, still.

Good.

It was easier to draw this one. His facial features were not so well defined, but her own was locked in an expression she saw repeated every night in her dreams.

She didn't even see the hand that pulled the book from her, but she did feel her stomach drop.

Mr. Mason snapped the pages shut as soon as he laid eyes on the drawing. Then he looked at Bella.

Nervously, she looked around. The room was full of people. Class had clearly started. There were notes on the board, and people were staring.

Had he been talking to her, and she hadn't realized?

Obviously, her alter ego snarked.

"I think maybe, you should go to the office, Bella." His voice was very quiet.

He waited for her to pack up her things, and then followed her out of the room, barking instructions behind him at the class. The office was a ways away, and he said nothing as they walked there.

Her stomach wobbled and clenched, doing somersaults in anxious anticipation.

In the office's carpeted interior, he gestured to the waiting area for Bella, where she sat, perched nervously on one of the chairs.

Then he disappeared into the principal's office with her book.

She was summoned shortly thereafter.

Her book lay on the principal's desk, far from his hands.

"Thank you Mr. Mason, I'll take it from here."

When her English teacher left, the principal looked at the book. "Those are some startling things you've drawn there."

She said nothing. She wasn't here to discuss her 'art'.

"I know some things happened to you, Bella, while you were gone, but you can't draw those here."

An angry flush swept up her face.

"You—"

"Fuck you."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me. Screw you and your prudery. I will draw whatever I want, wherever I want."

He blinked. "Bella, why don't you take the afternoon off—"

"So I can take my uncomfortable past somewhere else, so you can pretend stuff like this doesn't happen?"

"So you can deal with it, without worrying about being bothered." His voice was soft.

She grabbed her book and stood, walking out of the office, not caring what he said, or did, but needing air and space and acceptance she knew would not be found here.

She stopped at her locker to empty it, jumping when the bell for lunch rang, and students flooded out of the classrooms.

"Bella, what're you doing?" Sally's question disguised a barely screened accusation.

"Ditching for the afternoon."

"You don't look like you're just ditching." The worry was plain now.

Bella stopped putting things in her bag, closing the locker with a few books and binders still inside it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sally." She sounded tired to herself. Her hand was shaking again.

"You got lunch with you?" Sally usually brown bagged it. Bella did most of the time. Her own lunch, now probably squashed at the bottom of her bag, held little appeal.

"Um, sure."

Sally's hand was on Bella's. "Let's go outside." Her eyes were large for her face, and they were widened towards her friend. Her eyebrows were pushed together in deep concern.

Sally thought Bella was leaving—permanently. Kicking herself for upsetting her friend, Bella sighed. "OK."

It was sunny outside. They made their way towards the spot near where Edward had taken Bella, what felt like ages ago.

"Something happen?" Sally asked, as they sat on the grass.

"Yeah," Bella mumbled.

Sally didn't ask more, but bit into her sandwich. Their silence was comfortable.

After a few minutes of ripping up grass, Bella asked her, "do you see stuff? on repeat in your head?"

Sally put her sandwich down, nodding. "All the time."

Bella nodded too.

More ripping up grass.

"My counsellor said I should try drawing those images."

Sally's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, I know." She shook her head. "I got...lost, you know? In the memory...thought class hadn't started. Apparently it had. While I was drawing."

Sally's 'oh' was long, and airy.

"Teacher saw it, and sent me to the principal's office."

"Shit."

"Yep."

More silence.

"I told him to fuck off. And I'm pretty sure I said some other stuff I'll regret when he reminds me of it." She put her face in her hands. Sally's hand was warm on her back, making slow circles.

"Think he'll understand."

"You're optimistic."

"Not really," Sally murmured. "But people here have been kinder. Kinder than at home."

Bella squeezed her hand back. "Sorry. I know I'm whining."

"No, you're not." She chuckled. "Now Jessica, she whines."

They both laughed, and when it ended, Bella felt a smile slip up her face. "Thank you—for asking me to come have lunch. It helps, to be able to talk about this stuff."

"Yep. Nothing like a fellow whore to make jokes with." When the next round of laughter faded, Sally went on. "Somewhere, somewhen, a comedian has made a top ten list of the worst parts of being a prostitute."

"Somewhen," Bella agreed.

"Number ten, shitty footwear."

Bella didn't have to think about the next one. "Number nine, even shittier underwear."

"Eight: shitty hours."

"Seven: crappy wages."

It went on.

"And number one," Bella pronounced, "shitty men."

Sally high-fived her.

Bella went back to shredding the grass beside her. "Not that I had my share of them."

"What do you mean?" Sally asked.

Bella swallowed, realizing she'd never told her. "There was only one, Sally, that first night."

A series of emotions travelled over Sally's features. "One?"

"Yeah. He was enough."

Sally swallowed and nodded, then stood abruptly. "Sorry, I gotta—" she didn't finish the statement, her feet carrying her away.

"Sally!" Bella called.

Her friend threw her hand back, palm up.

Bella followed anyway. She'd almost caught up by the time they reached the parking lot.

Principal Green stood between her and Sally's continued path.

"Not today, Ms. Swann. Come back tomorrow." His face was not unkind, but it wore a well rehearsed resoluteness. He lifted his chin towards the parking lot. "We'll see you tomorrow."

There were worse consequences for cussing out your principal than an afternoon off. Setting her worry for Sally aside she moved to her car, and then pulled out her phone.

"Bella," Edward's voice practically oozed out of the receiver.

"Hey, I'm um, unexpectedly free this afternoon. I was wondering—"

"Yes."

"I haven't even said what I'm proposing."

"If it involves you, I'm in."

"Great, let's go sky-diving."

She pushed her hair out of her face, and smiled at the sound of his laughter.

"Really?"

"No." Her voice wobbled with a half laugh, but her teeth pinched her lip. "Was wondering if you wanted to talk."

"With you, always. Where?"

"Your place?"

"Not today," he said softly. "Can I come to you?"

Bella's face fell. She wanted somewhere private to speak with him. "Oh," she said, brightening a little, "do you know where my Dad's house is?" She had a key.

"I do. Meet you there in a few minutes?"

"OK."

She wondered if what she planned was wise. Charlotte had counselled risk, and this felt like one. But if it brought trust, it was worth it.

If it didn't, though...

She stopped that thought, keeping her eyes on the road, mind thoroughly preoccupied with the thought of being with Edward.

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.