Powerful Man

Chapter One: The Return

Bella Swan

I made my way out of my last class of the day, eager to get home and say goodbye to another week at Jacksonville High. My mom and Phil were going to be gone for the entire weekend, and I was already looking forward to your typical weekend alone plans: spending four hours in the bathtub with zero judgement, ordering greasy takeout and eating it very ugly in front of a favourite TV show from the nineteen eighties, which had become my guilty pleasure, and of course changing my bedroom around while trying to convince myself that feng shui really is worth all the hassle and the stubbed toe.

As fun as those plans sounded, there were other items on the agenda this weekend, like studying for my upcoming history test, cleaning out the suitcase I call my school bag, and, of course, the highlight of the entire weekend, calling Charlie. I felt awful that calling my own dad felt like such a daunting chore, but the conversation was so one-sided these days that sending him a Christmas card each year would say more than ten phone exchanges.

A year ago, when I finally convinced my mom that going on the road with Phil was going to be good for both of us, I packed up my life here and moved to Forks to stay with my dad for a while. Then on my very first night there, everything changed. Of course, I remember Charlie picking me up from the airport in his patrol car, driving me back to the house, where I unpacked my luggage and set up my room, even using the shelves Charlie had cleared for me in the bathroom, before cooking Charlie and I a nice dinner. After dinner, I took a bath and got myself organised for my first day of school, then I went downstairs to take out the trash for Charlie, who had fallen asleep in front of the TV.

Everything happened so quickly after that...

I remember putting on my jacket to go outside. I was a long way from home, and I suddenly felt very grateful for all the winter clothes my mom had insisted I pack. I had made my way down the front steps to the house, and I remember looking across at my new truck, hoping the colour wouldn't draw any attention to me tomorrow when I pulled up at school. I dumped the trash in the cans and had just barely turned around to return to the house when out of nowhere something hit me hard.

Suddenly I wasn't at my house anymore; I was in the woods. My back was against a tree trunk hard, and someone was pushing against me. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear him; he had his face buried in my neck, and he was sniffing me. I opened my mouth to scream, but I had no voice. My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I thought it might just burst. My body was flooded with fear and immediate adrenaline. I was a trembling and sweaty mess against him as I remained frozen to the spot, trapped between the tree and him.

He didn't appear to notice or care about my obvious distress; my hands were pinned against his shoulders as I tried to force him away from me. I would have more luck trying to move the Eiffel Tower a bit to the left than I would have getting him away from me. at that moment. When he felt the pressure of my palms against his shoulder, he grunted like an animal, almost making me gag at the sound, and when he edged closer into my neck, I felt his lips against my skin. Hearing me gasp only appeared to encourage him to continue as he pushed himself closer to me until there was hardly a hairline between us, our bodies connected everywhere—his shoulders against mine, his feet pinned at either side of mine, and his hip bones in line with mine.

I prayed to die at that moment.

Please just let me die before something even worse happens to me. I had told whatever God may have been listening to at that moment. He lifted his hand and pushed my face to the side, so I couldn't see his face as he proceeded to lick all the way from the base of my neck up to my ear. My eyes were rolling into the back of my head as his tongue seemed to hit every nerve ending in my neck. The hand on my face was ice-cold, not just cold enough to require gloves, but cold enough to defrost your freezer. I finally let out a squeal, and then he placed a single kiss upon my neck in fear of what he could possibly do next. I closed my eyes and refused to open them as his hands cupped my face and he pressed my forehead against his; his skin was ice-cold. I was a sweaty mess, and for good reason: this man was going to kill me; I was going to die right here in the woods; I would be the missing daughter of the Chief of Police.

"Pl-ease," I stammered, my jaw trembling beneath his touch.

He brushed his fingertips across my lips, then made me hold my breath.

"Why shouldn't I kill you?" He asked me

His voice hoarse and deep.

I swallowed hard, not knowing how to answer his question. There was no right or wrong answer; either way he was going to kill me, I just knew it!

Tears streamed down my face then, completely out of nowhere. I was never the type to cry; I didn't want him to see me upset; I wanted him to see me standing over him as he bled to death.

"I'm only seventeen; I'm not done yet," I sobbed.

"EDWARD!" A loud voice came from nowhere of out nowhere

Suddenly the weight fell off of me, and I crashed to the ground so hard that I found I couldn't get back up again. I looked around me, searching every corner of the forest surrounding me for him, but he was gone. In a fraction of a second, I was on my hands and knees, crawling my way to freedom through the leafy grounds of the forest, too afraid to look behind me in fear that he was following me, watching me struggle and delighting in my misery as I attempted to escape him.

Somehow I managed to make it home. I crawled up the front steps to the door and began banging at it as hard as I possibly could, knowing Charlie was asleep inside. The police and paramedics showed up at the house ten minutes later. They had officers and dogs searching the forest around the house for my attacker. While the paramedics checked me over, I gave my statement with Charlie by my side. One of the paramedics brought a blanket around my shoulders to warm me up, along with a cup of water to steady my nerves.

Not even five minutes later, a brand new Mercedes Benz pulled up in front of the house. I was sitting on the back of the ambulance when I watched a blonde man step out of the car. He had crossed the front yard of my house and headed over to speak with my dad, who was standing with the same officer who had taken my statement. I watched this blonde man speak with my dad for a few moments before he made his way over to me. Above him, I watched the light in my room turn on. One of the officers must have been inside.

"Miss Swan?" The blonde man asked as he approached me.

"Hi," I said.

"I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen, and I was very sorry to hear about what you went through this evening. With your permission, I'd like to give you an examination." "If you feel up to it?"

"Erm, well, the paramedics already checked me out."

The doctor smiled. "Well, it never hurts to get a second opinion," he explained.

He climbed into the ambulance using the side door and arrived back at my side a few minutes later, armed with supplies and gloved hands.

"You must have gotten a terrible fright, Miss Swan," Doctor Cullen said as he began taking my blood pressure for the second time that night.

"Bella," I corrected him.

"It's awful to feel scared, to have so much going on that you can't possibly control."

I nodded in agreement.

"The thing to understand is that you have to take back whatever control was stolen from you in order to move on with your life."

"Thanks for the advice," I said, and I adjusted the blanket around my shoulders.

"I had a bit of a scare myself this evening."

"You did?"

"Indeed," Doctor Cullen said as he slid off the monitor cuff down my arm, "my son lost control and lashed out at me and his brothers." I ran out of the house and spent hours going around town searching for him, which was simply unimaginable. I didn't know what he might do. But the thing you have to understand about parenthood is that no matter what the problem, we'll always find a way to fix it for our child."

Charlie's probably thinking the same thing about now. I doubt he's going to find a way to fix me, though. Some things can't be fixed or forgotten.

"That's why I'm here, Miss Swan. To fix the problem

"The problem?"

Doctor Cullen stepped towards me then, and I was suddenly very painfully aware that the ambulance was parked across from my house and not directly outside it.

How was I suddenly so alone with a total stranger?

"Parents fix problems for their children, and when my son lashed out tonight and attacked you, he wasn't himself."

I held my breath then as Doctor Cullen bent down, so we were at eye level with one another.

"Listen very closely, Bella. You will retract your statement, and you will tell the officers that you lied. "You just wanted to go home, and you thought this was the only way to go about it."

"What?"

"You will do this."

"No." I shook my head as my eyes filled with tears.

Doctor Cullen smiled, saying, "If your father were to go upstairs right now, he would find hidden bottles of alcohol around your room, bottles taken from his own fridge." On your bed, your laptop screen will clearly display an email to your mother expressing in detail your thoughts on Charlie, how depressed he seems, how afraid you are of how many guns he keeps around the house, and how ashamed you feel of his home, the smell, the dated furniture, not to mention all the photographs he's kept on the walls of her."

"You're sick," I hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm a parent, Miss Swan." "I would do anything to protect my children, as I'm sure you would do anything to protect your father."

I looked over his shoulder to Charlie, watching how angry and upset he was becoming over the situation and how the other officers were attempting to calm him down—surely they could smell the beer he had after dinner on his breath."

"My son is indeed sorry for the pain he has caused you this evening; you have my word that this will not happen again." "My son is leaving for Italy as we speak."

"Your son belongs in jail."

"Bella," Doctor Cullen said, his smile fading, "you've got your script." "Now, be a good girl and nod your head to show you understand what I'm saying."

I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to scream and beg someone, anyone, to help me. But instead I nodded for Charlie's sake.

It was a year later, and it felt like nothing at all had changed from that day to this; I was still consumed with the same level of fear as I had been that night in the forest.

The morning after my attack, I was on a flight home to my mom with no argument from Charlie. He wasn't only my dad; he was also the Chief of Police in Forks, and he of course blamed himself for my attack no matter how hard I tried to convince him otherwise. A year later, our telephone conversations got shorter and shorter; he'd ask me about school and I'd ask him about work, and if we got desperate enough, we'd talk about the weather and television.

But, unbeknownst to my parents, what happened in Forks that night had not stayed in Forks. A month after my attack, I found a red rose inside my locker at school with a note pierced through one of the thorns.

I can still taste you, Edward C.

I could have gone to the police right then and there; I even drove myself to the nearest station to my school and sat outside it for my entire lunch hour, but I didn't go in. I thought of Charlie, all alone in Forks. He had somehow tracked me down across the country, which only left me haunted with one question.

What the hell was Edward Cullen capable of?

A few months later, I found something new in my locker: inside a small black gift bag, I found a set of handcuffs with a one-word note.

Interested?

I had been spared any further locker items since then, but I was starting to worry as the anniversary of my attack drew closer. I had to dump a few of my text books in my locker before heading home; I wasn't about to carry these things for a mile, not in this heat.I made my way to my locker, imagining greasy takeout for dinner and a bubble bath loaded with my mom's expensive bath oil. I yanked the door open, and half the time you'd swear someone had used super glue on this thing.

I stepped backwards, finding my locker almost completely empty; my textbooks were gone; my gym bag was gone; even my class schedule was missing from the inside of my door. There was only one thing left inside: a phone, a new iPhone with a black hard shell casing around it. I stepped towards my locker but immediately jumped back when the phone's screen lit up as it began to viberate.

My hands were shaking almost as hard as my knees as I leaned forward, taking a glance at the screen to check the caller ID.

Incoming Call

The Dominant