Authors Note:
This story is heavily inspired by the novel Donor by Elena Hearty. It was a book I picked up on a whim at the library and immediately I thought of refurbishing the plot a bit for a Twilight fic. I've never written for Twilight before and haven't read the books in quite some time, but either way, I hope that you guys enjoy. The first chapter starts out a bit slow, but it picks up pretty quick.
. ... .
Bella rummaged through her bag, her hands shaking with both panic and something else before finally she found what she searched for, fingers gripping around it in triumph. She squinted as she tried to read the label of the prescription bottle in the poor lighting of her car but she managed and they were exactly what she had been looking for. Bella let out the shaky breath she hadn't known she had been holding, quickly spinning the top off and shaking out four of them into her palm. She noticed in passing that there were eight pills left in the bottle.
She closed the bottle and tucked it back into her oversized bag before she popped the pills into her mouth and began to chew. The taste was god awful – bitter and grainy – but if she chewed them they kicked in faster and god, she needed them to kick in now.
After sitting there for another ten minutes, Bella felt her heartbeat begin to slow and her lungs loosened to allow her to breathe normally. She turned off her car, shaking her head and letting out an almost manic laugh. She trembled like a leaf as she stared at the handle of her car before she took another deep breath and opened it quickly, stepping out into the world.
She had to park two streets over from the small coffee shop that had been previously agreed upon. It was that or pay for parking and that was just not going to happen. As she walked, Bella took the time to consider how she had gotten here. She hadn't always been like this – having to pop pills to simply go out and function like a normal human being.
After her mother's funeral two years ago, Bella had closed all the doors and refused to come out. She had never been one to have very many friends in the first place and the few that she did have she ignored completely until they eventually left her alone. She deleted all of her public social media profiles, though she still maintained an anonymous online presence. Bella moved from her old apartment to her mother's home, several towns over, further distancing herself from everyone she knew. Bella would leave her house to visit the grocery weekly and would have an occasional doctor's visit, but other than that she stayed within her home, in isolation.
The doctors called it agoraphobia – but it was more than just simply being afraid of the world outside her door. She hated the world outside; it was a world of festering decay with awful people doing awful things everywhere. It made her anxious and sometimes physically sick to walk out the door into a world where good people met unfortunate ends and terrible people were able to prosper. Interacting with people, especially strangers, would make her heart race and pound in her ears, her palms sweat, her lungs close off from air.
When the doctor she went to see after her mother's death had first suggested Xanax, Bella had refused. She had never taken any medication other than antibiotics her whole life – and besides she wasn't even really sick, she just hated dealing with other people. But her doctor had insisted, saying that the prescription along with continued therapy would help improve her life considerably before writing her a 30 day script and sending her on her way. These days it was the doctors that were the real drug dealers, Bella had come to learn. After two years it had gotten to the point where she only had to meet with her doctor once every six months and her prescription had enough refills for all the months in between.
Bella liked the way Xanax made her feel – or rather how it didn't make her feel. The thought of leaving the house nowadays without at least two of those delicacies made her physically start to shake. But if Bella were to be honest, it had gotten to the point where she took them all day, every day just because she wanted to – liked to, even – whether she was leaving the house or not.
Luckily for her, her job as a software engineer allowed her plenty of work at home options, and she was easily able to provide for herself without having to leave her house. It also didn't hurt that she had a pretty stellar benefits package, which niftily covered her little habit almost completely. There was one other doctor she had to see but he did not bill her provider, which was fine because her job also paid well and she simply did not have many bills, leaving her plenty of left over cash flow to cover the property tax on her mother's home and also fund her hobbies, which had grown exponentially as her isolation continued.
Her mother always had hobbies, and Bella had participated in almost all of them just as fast as they came and went – sculpting, ballet, piano, learning to speak Russian, yoga, knitting and so many others that Bella could think of. Her mother had been a jack of all trades, master of none. After her mother's death, Bella decided to become a jack of all trades, master of all.
She had piano lessons as a girl and she retaught herself the basics via the internet, eventually moving onto more complicated pieces. Bella wouldn't call herself a master by any means but she had recorded herself a few times and when she listened to it afterwards it had been pretty good, in her opinion. She had decided against sculpting and instead decided to pursue sketching and painting – she oddly enough painted much better than she drew but was not exactly a master at either practice. She had bought the Rosetta Stone program for Russian and felt pretty sure that she could successfully introduce herself, ask to find a bathroom, ask for directions and what the best food to eat was. Definitely not a master there yet, either.
But she continued to practice, determined to forge something of sustenance. If she wasn't going to have any relationships with the people outside her door or her computer, she had to leave her mark some other way. Compose a song or paint a masterpiece, or maybe she world learn fifty languages. Something that she could point towards and hold on to when people questioned the way she lived. Despite Bella's desire to distance herself from other humans, she still craved achievement.
And perhaps one cat. She had seen an email the other day from a pet rescue she had donated to in the past that this orange monstrosity with a missing eye needed fostering. His name was Charlie, her dad's name. He even kind of looked like him too, if Charlie had been a cat.
Bella finally reached the door of the shop, taking a deep breath before entering. It was late on a Tuesday night, just a little after eight, and there was only a few other patrons inside. Bella walked straight to order, looking only at the dark haired youth behind the counter and nobody else.
"Green tea, please," Bella said politely, before the kid had a chance to greet her. Without her Xanax, she would definitely never be here. She shopped at the Plex about ten minutes from her home and she always did it on Thursday, when her favorite cashier Julia worked. Julia was just about the best cashier Bella had ever had – no small talk, just quick at scanning and bagging.
Bella was only here because last week she had been cleaning out her mother's attic and found the gramophone that had once been her grandmother's. Renee had gotten it and played it often in the years after her own mother passed. Bella had completely forgotten about it until that moment but as soon as she saw it grief had crashed into her fresh and sharp.
Bella had been unable to find any of the original records Renee had once owned and decided to do a quick search for the Fleetwood Mac one her mother had been particularly enamored with. Much to her surprise, she found that there was a private seller in a town a little over a half hour away from her, and he had put it for sale along with several others. His price was the cheapest too, especially if she wanted more than one.
Bella had selected a few she was looking for and he offered to meet her at one of the local coffee shops for the sale. Bella had decided to go for it – she would be able to physically look at them and see condition before actually buying, it was in a public place, she was getting a great deal – she would be fine, as long as she had her precious little bottle of candy at hand.
He told her the total and she handed him a bill from her wallet. "Name?" the young man asked as he handed her change.
"Bella," she replied swiftly, before walking down to where the counter area where it would be given to her. Bella tucked her hands in the pockets of her sweat shirt, resisting the urge to pull up her hood. People who wore hoods inside were weird, she reminded herself.
"Excuse me, did you say your name was Bella?" a voice broke through her inner dialogue. It came from directly behind her, and she jumped slightly as she turned.
She came face to face with probably the best looking man she had ever seen. He was tall, bronze haired and had striking green eyes over high cheekbones. His skin was pale and smooth, hardly a wrinkle in sight. Bella observed all this about him in a detached way – she honestly didn't care if he was a Greek god or a leper, she just wanted his records. Just wanted to hear the sound her mother once grieved with.
"Yes. You must be Edward?" Bella recovered quickly. The man nodded. She was surprised – she was ten minutes early, having hoped to get a faraway booth and wait for him to arrive.
"That is me," the man smiled. "You said you wanted to see the condition so I got a table. It's just back there," Edward pointed. It appeared he had had the exact same plan as her, just better execution.
Just then the worker placed her tea on the counter. Bella scooped it up before she wordlessly began walking toward the table he had pointed to. Edward did the same, and Bella found herself sitting across from him.
"May I?" Bella asked, eying the stack of records that was at Edward's elbow. The man nodded, sliding them towards her. Bella took the first record with careful hands, sliding it out of its case just so to avoid getting the oil from her fingers on it. As he had said online, it was in perfect condition. "These are wonderful," she complimented, sliding it back into the case and reaching for the next. "The condition is phenomenal – minimal dust in the grooves, no cracks," she went on. She read online that she would still have been able to play them with scratches and such but every time the needle ran over it would further damage the record and there would be a loud pop. No wonder people had gone digital.
"My father collected them," Edward said by way of explanation. "I clean them regularly, to keep the condition," he paused and Bella looked up from the record to see him observing her closely. The pills she took earlier must be starting to kick in because her chest barely tightened at all. "You seem a bit young to be into records. Don't you have a phone?" he asked, one corner of his mouth turning up in the smallest of grins.
Bella reflected that the pills were definitely working. Otherwise she was sure that that look would have caused her to dissolve into a panic attack. Was he making fun of her? Was he flirting? No, that wasn't even possible. Oh, god, she hoped he wasn't flirting. Despite her internal panic, Bella was able to keep her face trained what she hoped was a friendly smile.
"My mother listened to them often when I was young. I found her gramophone the other day and what can I say?" she shrugged, "I was struck by nostalgia," she gathered the discs and placed them atop one another, carefully lining the edges up exactly before she looked back up at him. "These ones were her favorites and I wanted to have them. I don't know how often I'll listen to them, though. Fleetwood Mac is okay, I suppose, but the hair bands aren't exactly my thing," she admitted.
"Oh?" Edward commented dryly. "And what kind of music do you prefer?" he asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at it lazily. That was Bella's sign that she was good to go – she had small talked like a normal person long enough for someone to become bored of her.
"Classical, mostly," Bella admitted airily, reaching for her purse. "Debussy, Bach, Tchaikovsky, that sort of thing," she dug in her oversized bag, searching for her wallet. She liked music without words to muck the waters – enjoyed the pure emotion that sound itself could inspire. "We agreed on three hundred, yeah?"
"You should have mentioned you enjoyed classical music," he ignored her question, leaning towards her with renewed interest, phone back in his pocket. "To be honest, that is what makes up most of most of my collection. These are just trifles," he said, waving his hand dismissively at the records on the table. Bella noticed that he had large hands, with very long, graceful looking fingers. She found herself wondering if he played piano.
"Oh," Bella shifted nervously in her seat, unsure what to say. "When I looked at your items for sale, there were no classical options..." she trailed off, unsure what else to say. Feeling uncomfortable, she looked again for her wallet and finally found it.
"The classical stuff never sells. Believe it or not, not even hipsters have the urge to listen to them," he smiled at her. "Besides, I have hundreds and posting and trying to sell them online would be a hassle."
Bella chewed on the inside of her cheek, anxious. "Perhaps we could meet again next week?" she suggested, though she wasn't sure if she could convince herself to leave the house voluntarily to meet this man two weeks in a row.
"Nonsense. If you like, I can show you now. My apartment is less than a ten minutes from here, if you would like to see them," he offered her nonchalantly.
"Oh, really, that's okay," Bella said quickly, "I'd love to but I don't want to put you out," she waved him off. "Now we did say three –"
"If you would love to see them, I would love to show them to you," Edward interrupted gracefully, "It really is no trouble," he assured her.
Bella hesitated. If she went there with him, she would not have to come back next week. He seemed relatively normal, from her interaction with him. Perhaps he was just desperate to clean out some of his father's collection – he did say he had hundreds of them, after all. Plus she had been doing so well today, and hadn't made a fool of herself at all in their interaction. The idea of being inside someone else's house made her a bit queasy, but there was minimal panic at the notion.
"Um, sure," Bella finally acquiesced, nodding her head. "Would you mind giving me a minute?" she asked, motioning to the restroom.
"Of course," Edward replied, sitting back in the booth and pulling out his phone again.
Bella scurried into the bathroom, approaching the line of sinks. She grabbed the cold edges of the sink, leaning against it as she took several deep breaths. You're fine, don't freak out, you're not even acting like a freak, Bella thought to herself. Rolling her shoulders, she turned the water on and splashed her face several times with the cold water. After she dried off with the paper towel, Bella reached into her bag and pulled out her pill bottle. She took two of them out and noticed only six remained. She wasn't too worried as she popped the pills into her mouth and chewed. She had gotten her 90 - day script filled just the other day and it was at home waiting for her.
It was a comforting thought.
She didn't want to take too long in the bathroom – who knows what he thought she was doing in here – and so she chewed quickly and swallowed. Six was more than Bella usually took when she was out and about, but she had been doing so well and really didn't want to ruin it by potentially having a panic attack in some nice collector's apartment.
Feeling somewhat confident, exited the bathroom and Edward looked up at the same instant. "Shall we?" he asked, scooping up the titles from the table before standing fluidly.
Bella nodded and led the way out of the coffee shop, though she obviously let him lead the rest of the way. She kept her hands in her pockets, clenched tightly into fists but other than that she felt almost relaxed. It wasn't a terrible time, and the Xanax-fueled haze she found herself in allowed for her to participate in normal conversation. She learned that he actually owned the apartment complex the he lived in.
"I inherited it," he offered in explanation at her dumbfounded look. "The building was built in 1902 and my great-grandfather purchased it in 1916," he told her. "It's been in the family ever since," he pointed what she assumed was it, across the street from where they were.
Bella nodded and they crossed the road. She understood that – she lived in the house that had once been her grandmother's, and then her mother's before it became hers.
They walked into a brightly lit, cozy lobby. At the front desk sat a woman in her late forties, her red hair in a tight bun. She smiled at Edward, and he inclined his head respectfully as they passed.
"I'm in B16," he told her, as he led her to a door marked stairwell. He held it open and followed her into the stairwell, but when she went to climb he stopped her. "B16 is down one level," he informed her.
"Oh," Bella said nervously, before she nodded and descended the floor with him.
He smiled at her, "The apartment number is misleading," he allowed. "When the building was built, there were sixteen apartments to a floor. When my great-grandfather bought the building, he moved into this unit, and started expanding as people moved out. Now just about half the floor is my apartment and the rest is utilities," he explained.
He held the door open for her again and she stepped into an empty hallway. All other doors along the basement hall appeared to have been boarded up or hastily filled with cement, Bella noted as she followed him to his door. There was one single lighting fixture that flickered from above. It caused their shadows to flicker across the expanse of the empty hallway. The motion drew Bella's eye – it looked like hers was running.
"I bet you don't get many trick-or-treaters," Bella joked, trying to keep her nerves at bay. It was a creepy hallway – that was all. He explained that he was the only one that lived down here – why would he bother trying to make the hallway look nice? She was sure the upper floors looked much nicer, as the lobby had.
He grinned at her as he pulled his keys from his pocket, "No trick-or-treaters," he admitted as he fumbled with the lock – Bella noted there were three deadbolts. Odd, but she had two herself at home. He was a collector, also, and there were sure to be valuable things inside.
"Do you live alone?" she asked, wondering if he lived alone or had someone, like a roommate or a girlfriend.
"Yes," Edward turned the final deadbolt, holding it open for her. "Ladies first," he said politely.
She took a deep breath before stepping inside. Bella actually felt a bit curious to know what the inside of his apartment looked like. She had a brief flash of a sort of organized chaos, empty pizza boxes next to stacks of records and books and loose papers all over the place. Instead, she stepped onto marble flooring inside a sprawling foyer. Bella's eyes flashed up to the ornate ceilings and crown molding – it was as if she had just stepped into some sort of urban mansion.
"Wow, it is beautiful in here," she complimented as her eyes landed on a sculpture of some sort of abstract object with interest "Definitely not what I expected…" she trailed off, unsure if she was being rude. Edward didn't say anything, and Bella looked back to see that his head was tilted ever so slightly and his face was very focused, as if straining to hear something. Bella saw something flash in his eyes before he quickly brushed by her without a word, down a hallway.
Unsure what to do, Bella hesitantly followed him, not wanting to be awkwardly standing in the foyer of his house. As she trailed behind him, the sound of a woman crying reached her ears. What was happening? Hadn't Edward said he lived alone? She faltered in her steps and Edward fell out of sight, around the corner. Bella wasn't sure what kept her feet trailing after him but as she turned the corner it took her several moments to truly process what she was seeing.
There was a man in the room, covered in blood. He stood over a disheveled girl and a pile of something…else on the ground. The girl had pitch-black hair and clothes to match and she was crying – great, heaving sobs that shook her entire frame. Two trails of snot ran down her nose. She seemed to be focused on the red, pulpy looking thing on the ground next to her and Bella focused in on it.
A moment passed and Bella realized it was a body. A dead human body. Its face was crushed beyond all recognition and the clothes that weren't shredded were absolutely soaked in blood. This definitely explained the awful smell that reached her nose. Fear froze Bella's feet to the ground, turned her thoughts to ice.
Suddenly, Edward started laughing. The blood-covered man did as well. Bella watched in horror as the guy who hadn't raised any red flags devolved into a monster right before her eyes. Apparently the lamentation of the girl struck Edward and his friend in high-comedy, for with every sob she released he released a new string of ridicule.
"Perhaps you could give him mouth to mouth," Edward suggested, his voice malicious and cruel. "That might work, honestly. He doesn't look too far gone. Seriously, you should at least try," he encouraged her. The girl made no motion to do the obviously hopeless thing that Edward was ordering her to do. "DO IT," he roared, and the girl jumped in obvious terror.
Bella jumped, too, and it brought her back to her senses. They were not paying attention to her trembling form in the doorway, entirely too delighted in tormenting the sobbing girl on the ground to pay Bella any notice.
Instinctual fear and adrenaline flooded her and she abruptly turned on her heel and back down the hallway. She wanted to run but feared the sound of her feet against the marble floor would give her away, and so she walked as quickly as she could. She needed to get out of here, needed to get to her car, needed to drive home and never ever leave her house ever, ever again.
The front door came into focus and Bella gulped air. She just needed to get out of the apartment and then she could run, just a little further. Bella grabbed the door handle and turned it, but it wouldn't budge when she pulled it. Her eyes traveled up to the three deadbolts and her eyes went wide with dread – they required keys to open them, even from the inside. Had Edward sealed her in as soon as they entered? She hadn't heard his keys. She pulled the handle again, uselessly, panic welling up inside her.
A hand came down on her shoulder and Bella jumped practically three foot in the air, spinning around in horror to see Edward directly behind her. His face looked drastically different than when she had met him in the coffee shop – where he had been a charming, polite man then he was a hunter looking at prey now.
"Ditching already, Bella?" he asked facetiously, "You just got here. I haven't even showed you my collection," he mocked her, his mouth pulling down into a pout.
Bella trembled despite herself, "Edward, look – I obviously came at a bad time," she tried her best to keep her voice steady and unafraid, "It looks like you have some stuff going on. I can look at your record collection later, yeah?" Edward smiled at her, though again it was different than it had been in the coffee shop – sinister. He made no motion for the keys. "Please, I don't know what's going on here. I promise to not tell anyone, I won't say anything," Bella's voice broke on the last word. "I don't belong here, just let me go," she pleaded.
Edward smiled as he grabbed her by the hand, "Oh, but I think you do belong here," Edward replied easily, as if talking about the weather. "Let's go back to the parlor and figure this whole messy situation out, shall we?"
