Mommy Dearest
aka
Behind Closed Doors
Summary: I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.
Elaboration: Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.
Chapter Two
The Recessive Gene. What an excuse. Really, though, it was due to the 'recessive gene' that Alice had black hair, and mine was bronze, when our parents possessed the color of blonde and caramel. Suspicions were raised, really, as to how I ended up being cared for by Carlisle when Elizabeth Masen died giving birth to a son not days before. When hearing these rumors – the small talk of a boring little town – Esme came flying back home in a fury. Insinuations, however true, against the family made her wrath horrible, and of course she took it out on her only outlet; me.
I had to wonder about my parents' relationship. I mean, Esme was clearly being unsatisfied, so she turned to me, and she was always going out when Carlisle was working, coming home smelling like sex, smoke and alcohol. The scents made me gag usually, which of course angered her more. I could never win, really. And why did my father continually ignore my obvious problems? The school had called multiple times at first when some kid had caught me retching in the bathrooms – Mike, I think his name was. Carlisle didn't mention one word. He didn't even look at me or ask me about anything. It was infuriating; had mother broken and silenced him so easily? Did she abuse him too? It was improbable - I couldn't imagine anyone like Carlisle standing for that – but perhaps she was threatening something of his to keep him quiet? My life is like a soap opera.
Alice and I arrived home from school at six fifty. I could hear Esme in the kitchen, humming as she cooked. My stomach rumbled a little and I hurriedly made my way upstairs while Alice went into the kitchen to greet her. I was faintly repulsed by the idea of Alice acting so friendly around my tormentor, but I understood the need to keep up appearances; so far Esme thought that no one knew about what happened behind closed doors.
I had asked Alice immediately after school – she and Jasper shared period before last – if he had been sworn to secrecy. Though she hadn't exactly answered my question, she had assured me that no one would tell anyone else. The 'else' is what frightened me; how many more people knew? Jasper would probably tell Rosalie, Emmett and Bella straight away. For some reason, the idea of Rosalie and Emmett knowing was not nearly as disturbing to me as having Bella know. She was so fragile and innocent; I didn't want her knowing what I suffered through every day. She was happy, and she deserved to be happy, and I wanted her to stay happy. My problems were not for her concerns.
-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-
"Kids! Dinner's ready! Come eat!"
I made my way downstairs, meeting Alice on the second landing, and went down to help set the table, putting all of the plates and silverware in the same perfect position each time, being slightly obsessive about it. I hoped that Esme's mood had continued to tonight, but I doubted it, so I wanted to make sure I did everything right.
She walked into the room flaunting a huge bowl of pasta. Figures. Carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. I was going to get it tonight. Despair washed over me as I watched Esme heap out the offensive food, giving all three of them hearty amounts and giving me perhaps half as much. I didn't complain. I doubted I would be able to stomach the food now. I twirled the long strands idly around my fork before shoving it into my mouth. It tasted good, but my throat and tongue felt numb. I forced myself to swallow and take another bite as conversations started around me. I didn't pay attention to any of them. I was focused on keeping my food down.
Mercifully, or perhaps not, dinner was over quickly. I helped mother to clear the table and I washed the dishes as they all went their separate ways in the house: Carlisle went to his study to pour over some patient's medical history; Alice went to her room to do her homework; Esme probably went upstairs to her room to do whatever she did in her spare time. Or maybe she was in my room, searching for an excuse to hurt me more tonight.
It turns out that both of my assumptions were wrong, for she came down about twenty minutes later dressed in a tight salmon pink dress that flared around her legs and tall black heels that, quite personally, I think people would have to be insane to wear. My point is proven. She grabbed her black purse by the phone and called upstairs that she would be out for the night, and to not wait up for her. Today was my lucky day, apparently. How wrong I was. She sauntered into the kitchen – again, possible in those heels? I think not – and came around the back of me. I shuddered at her touch as her hands trailed down my chest, wrapped around from the back. I could feel her breath on my neck and I clenched my fists around the towel I currently held whilst drying plates.
"I'm coming home around eleven, Edward. You better be up and ready for me." She didn't give me time to react. I wasn't sure I would be able to anyway, frozen as I was. Dear God, what would she do to me tonight? I had some idea. She would probably come home, drunk off her ass, and then force me to go down on her. I shuddered again at the thought and almost made myself retch again. I finished the last dishes quickly and ran up to my room; desperately wishing right then that Carlisle hadn't taken the bolt off of the door. It had been at mother's wishes, of course. She 'didn't want me sneaking around with some girl at night'. Ha! I pulled my hoodie off, and my socks, tossing them into one corner of the room designated for such things. Cringing, I inspected the embedded metal in my wrists. My circulation was probably permanently damaged. Any time I tried to write or use my fingers, the metal rubbed along my tendons and caused me pain. I would probably lose the use of my hands if this continued much longer.
My eyes traveled up my forearms, examining every welt and scar closely. I looked like some screwed up war veteran or something.
The floorboards outside my room creaked and my head shot up. I relaxed almost immediately as I saw the flash of spiky black hair that heralded my sister's arrival. She came over and sat down on the edge of my bed. I joined her. Her sad eyes followed the trail my own had been following moments before. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair again and most likely leaving bits of wound in my bronze locks. She placed her hands on my shoulder, rubbing gently and I sighed again, a slight smile coming to my lips.
"She left tonight," Alice whispered, afraid to break the silence. I nodded.
"She's coming back at eleven. She told me to be ready."
Alice nodded. Her eyes met mine, and this time they were pleading. "Edward, please, just turn her in. It would be so easy. One phone call. Or if you can't do that, tell Bella, or let Jasper tell Bella, or let me tell Jasper to tell Bella. Or write a note. Edward, there are so many ways you can simply end this, why don't you?"
"Because I can't! She's my mother!"
"No she's not! That…thing is not your mother. Your mother is not Esme Cullen. Your mother is Elizabeth Masen who died almost eighteen years ago giving birth to you! You have no loyalty to that…to Esme."
"But I can't do it, Alice. Every time I think about it, I get giddy, my hands shake, and I become lightheaded. You don't think that I contemplate turning her in every second of every day? I do! Don't think that I don't…but then what happens? I will probably go to doctors. Therapists," I spat the word out; I hate those people – they always try and get inside your head. "It'll be all over the news. Pitied looks, shame on the family, on you, on Carlisle. You and he would probably get arrested for not telling. And then," I paused for breath. "And then…Esme will get out of prison, and she'll come back for me. I know she will. She wants to kill me Alice; I can see it in her eyes. How do you think I should proceed?" By the end of my little speech my voice had become bitter and resigned. "I can't turn her in any more than I could kill you."
"Then…turn in the video."
"It would accomplish the same thing."
Once, when I was…fifteen? Around then. I had placed a camera in my room, to video tape what Esme had done to my every night since I was nine. To my knowledge, she didn't know about it, and I wanted to keep it that way.
"Just…let me deal with this, Alice."
"No!" She stood up, glaring down at me. The sudden motion and her unexpected resemblance to Esme made me shrink back in fear. "You think that this is easy for me, Edward? To sit by and watch that bitch come into your room every night and every morning and do God knows what to you? The only evidence I get is your scars and wounds, and my imagination fills all the rest. As well as your voices…you think that I can't hear you? Or her? I can hear you pleading for her to stop, and I can hear her, angry, unstoppable. She will kill you Edward, of this I have no doubt, and yet you still defend her. Shall I put that on your epitaph? Think of me, here! Think of your friends, of Bella!" I winced. That was a low blow. "She knows that there's something wrong with you. You hide it well, but now she knows. Jasper told her. She has been sworn to secrecy too, but she shouldn't have to be! You know what I think? I think you like what Esme does to you!"
I growled, getting to my feet and towering over my sister. My hands were clenched at my sides, and I spoke through gritted teeth.
"I can't believe my own sister would think that. Alice, you know me. I am your brother. You claim to hear us every night…you know exactly what she does to me. How can you say I enjoy it? I'm not twisted or screwed up like that."
"Then turn her in."
"Damn it I can't!"
"Then let me."
I opened my mouth for a retort, and then closed it again. I sat down, my head in my hands. This was all getting to my head. I was going insane, I was sure of it. Would it really be bad to just let Alice call the police? What harm could really come of it? I could do without therapists, but I couldn't deny that I did need medical attention. If I claimed that Alice and Carlisle had been ignorant…that Alice had only just seen the scars and called the police then…it should work, right? Why was I fighting this? This woman wasn't even my real mother.
Bella knew, so did Jasper. It was only a matter of time before Rosalie and Emmett let it slip. If Esme was gone, incarcerated…I could have a relatively normal life…Alice would be free to go and have a life with Jasper…I could go to college without fear of what lay in wait for me at home.
I wasn't sure how long I thought about it, but a quick glance at the clock told that it was ten fifty-seven. I hissed and looked up to my sister.
"Go!" I said. "She'll be here any moment." She looked like she was about to argue, but then suddenly the door slammed shut and I could hear a jingling of tossed keys and heels clacking around on the wood floors. Alice flitted out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and I quickly sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, eyes down, steeling myself for my fate.
-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-
Why don't I try fighting her off? I have no idea. Maybe Alice was right, maybe I do enjoy this. Am I really this sick, this twisted? Maybe, who knows?
She came in the room not moments later, her dress already half off and she stumbled with the walk of someone almost unconscious with alcohol. I winced as she sat down next to me, but kept myself otherwise motionless. I saw her smile. Her scent was everywhere; smoke and drink. It filled my lungs and I fought the urge to gag. Bracing myself for what was to come, I chanced a look up at her.
Her eyes were glazed and bright. Her hair was in messy disarray. She probably had already had some action tonight. Slut. Her dress – like I said – was half-unzipped, falling off of one shoulder. Her heels had already been shed and she wasn't wearing a bra. I shuddered, and looked away.
"Edward…" she cooed in what I think she meant to be a sexy voice. She just sounded drunk. I made no response. "Are you ready for me?" Again I made no response, which she apparently took to be a yes. I felt her hands on me as she pushed me down onto my back, and then straddled my chest. I kept my face blank, emotionless, until I felt her slap me. Hard. I winced but made no sound. She laughed. "Come on, Edward, you know what I want…" I said nothing as my hands traveled the well-known route, going up her bent knees to her thighs, rubbing the inside of them until she was gasping and moaning. Say what you want, but doing things like this is the only reason I'm still a virgin in the technical sense of the word.
I slid two fingers inside of her, cringing inwardly as the sensation. God I hated this. She took forever to bring to a climax. It was like she was deliberately holding out on me, making this last longer. I hated her so much. To the time of her breathing, I made my numb fingers move.
Finally, she had an orgasm, and her juices flooded my fingers, soaking my hand as well as my shirt. I muffled a whimper as the offensive stuff made its way down my hands and into my wrists, making them sting. I wanted to push her away now, just get her off of me, but apparently she wasn't done yet. Curse women and their multiple orgasms.
I won't tell you what she did next, because even when bearing my darkest secrets in a journal, I still have some dignity and privacy. But by the end her scent was all over me. I couldn't shake it off. Her heat and her scent and her taste…it was too salty…too heady…The first thing I did when she left was run to the bathroom and heave. It was disturbing how easy the practice was now. I ran all of the orange-red goop down the sink and jumped into the shower, scrubbing furiously at every part of my body until I reopened my wounds. The sting of the water was good to me, and I let the blood stain the shower as it ran down the drain. I leaned against the wall, feeling the water on my face and took several deep breaths of the relatively clean air. Shutting off the water before it became cold; I dried myself with the same ferocious intent. The only different between my towels and Alice's are the slightly red stains.
I collapsed onto my bed after stripping the sheets and pillows, simply lying on the mattress, which was by now the cleanest part of my bed. Slowly I reached under the bedside table.
A few years ago, during one of Esme's more testing sessions, the table had broken awkwardly. It was made by gluing two pieces of wood together on the top, to leave space for a drawer. But no drawer had ever been put there. So when the top of the table cracked in two, I discovered the empty place, and that is where I stashed the tape; out of her sight. I pulled the small roll of film out of the table and toyed with it idly, lying on my back. I don't know how she hadn't noticed the camera but I thanked God that she hadn't. This was my only proof against her, should push come to shove.
It would be so damn easy! Just pushing it over to Alice's room, even. She would know what it was, give it to the police, or perhaps Bella who would give it to her father.
Maybe I didn't want to turn it in because I didn't want all of the last two years to be in vain. Maybe, if I believe that there was a reason for my suffering, it made it better. If I turned this in, and everything worked out ideally, then what was the point of being Esme's slave and bitch for the past two years, since this recording was made?
The thoughts were swirling around like angry hornets, and I was too tired to deal with them. So, stashing the tape again, I rolled over and fell into an exhausted sleep.
-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-
My worst fears were realized the next day at school. Bella and Jasper stared at me all day with equal expressions of disbelieving sorrow and disgust. In biology, Bella would keep making gentle hints at how I was doing, which I answered with curt words, trying to be as polite as possible. My day from Hell.
"Edward…how are you feeling today?"
"I'm fine Bella."
She reached forward to take my hand, and I pulled away.
"Edward." I looked up, and there was so much sadness in her eyes that I almost gave in right then. There was something else though…something I couldn't place…that I had never seen. I couldn't name it. "Edward, why are you so cold with me? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"
I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, Bella, I know."
"Alright." She hesitated. It looked like she was going to say something else, but she didn't. I was half grateful and half curious as to what she would have said, but I didn't pursue further; let sleeping dogs lie.
I had realized long ago that my feelings for Bella went deeper than friendship. I know exactly why I didn't pursue further, but I couldn't help wondering if she loved me too and if so what our relationship would be like. She was a very patient girl…perhaps we could work things out. We would graduate…go to collage…maybe even live together…but I wouldn't be able to get closer than that. I mean…she is fantastic in every way…but I couldn't even let her touch me. That would cause some serious problems.
But I couldn't deny the flare of jealousy I felt whenever some other guy came over and asked her out. Speak of the Devil…
"Hey, Bella."
"Hey, Mike." Mike, the guy who had caught me barfing and told the teachers. Yeah, great goodie too-shoes. Fabulous Mike Newton.
"So…I was wondering…if you would like to catch a movie with me Saturday."
I clenched my fists under the table, keeping my mouth shut. She was mine, damn it! Though I had no real claim to her, but she was my best friend aside from Alice and I knew that I would want to spend the rest of my life with her if everything worked out.
"Oh! Gee…thanks Mike but I'm going to Seattle that weekend."
"Oh…alright…how about Friday then?" Jesus, the guy is like a freaking pest. Poor Bella; I certainly wouldn't have enough patience with him.
"Sorry, Mike. Look, I know you're interested in me but I kind of like someone else. Sorry."
"Is it Cullen?" Yeah, sure, act like a kicked puppy and pretend I'm not here. I don't mind.
"Like I would tell you, Mike. I'm trying to be nice here but you're making it hard."
"Fine, whatever. Have fun with your boyfriend." He shot a venomous glare at me and I shrugged. I had no idea who it was anyway. Whoever had Bella's heart was one lucky guy.
She sighed when Mike left and put her forehead on the table. I smiled at her, reaching forward so that my hand was inches from hers. "It's alright, you know. Mike's a jerk. He doesn't deserve you."
"I know, but he doesn't seem to get that." I smiled wider at her obvious annoyance and settled down for the rest of the class.
Okay, so maybe that day wasn't entirely crap.
Author's Note: Alright so there's the second chapter. I kind of want this to move fast, so any ideas as to how would be appreciated.
And also any errors you see. I have a headache so I may not see them as much as usual. Thank you for the reviewer who pointed out my mistakes. It is very much appreciated. I also have one of two possible story lines. If I start with one that you don't like let me know, and I can change it, cause I'm cool that way.
Everyone is human, by the way. Sorry for the confusion. Love you all and keep reading!
HigherMagic x