Fix You
Chapter Two
Carlisle's POV
"Why don't you just go over there and say something to her, for crying out loud?"
I jump behind the article I'm attempting to read and glance up to see a red-headed lady looking down at me with her eyebrows raised high up into her forehead. To say I'm confused would be an understatement, and I calmly ask her to repeat whatever it was she has just said.
She rolls her eyes at my reply just like a teenager and I wonder if this is some kind of fun game for her. "You've been staring at that girl ever since she walked in. Don't act all innocent because you damn well know you did."
I swallow and try to keep calm; I thought I was being subtle. Clearly not. Do I look like some kind of creep now? A man who just sits in cafés and stares at beautiful women?
I couldn't help it. As soon as she came in and my gaze naturally moved to look at her, I was alarmed by her beauty. She looked so sad with her eyes down on the floor, but her brilliant clear skin and free flowing hair had just completely distracted me.
It was forbidden of me in so many ways, but I couldn't stop myself from being helplessly attracted.
Nothing's going to come of it, though. It can't.
"Hello?"
The woman, whose name I discover is Victoria from the name tag on her apron, waves her hands impatiently in front of my distant face. I blink and refocus on her.
"Go over there and say something to her! Gee, I never knew it'd be this difficult!"
Carefully, I glance over to where the topic of our conversation is sitting and realise, with disappointment and surprise, that she's gone.
That's that, then. It was just a pathetic moment of weakness that I can forget about.
"She's not there anymore," I state, somewhat stupidly, and she sighs and takes a seat. This is a mirror of what she did to the woman just earlier - yes, I was watching - and I find myself wondering what they were talking about.
"That's because she's in the toilet," she replies calmly. "I suggest that, when she comes back, you go over and find something to make a topic of conversation about."
I frown suddenly. "Pardon me for being rude, but what business is it of yours, anyway?"
"None," she says with a sudden bright smile. "But I fancy myself as a matchmaker."
The urge to place my head in my hands is overwhelming; I settle with a hand through my hair. "I don't know why you're doing this, but it's not going to happen. I'm married." Just for emphasis, I hold up my hand and show her the wedding ring.
Her face remains calm.
"But are you happily married?"
She stands up and starts to walk away while I let that question settle in. Of course we're happily married, Esme and I. Of course we are.
Every couple argues now and then; it's completely natural.
Victoria turns back around with a satisfied smile on her face. "Why not start with the book?"
She heads back around to the counter and serves two teenagers a couple of drinks, continuing on obliviously like nothing ever happened. She's certainly got some nerve to poke into people's affairs.
Affair.
That wouldn't happen. I'm a respectable man with respectable values.
This place is like some kind trap, it must be. The woman, whose name I don't even know, is tempting me, luring me in without saying a single word. She's like some sort of curse... or is it a blessing? Has she made me realise some truths?
I could just walk out right now and forget this ever occurred. I need to.
But the curiosity and temptation...
Without really knowing what's happening, I suddenly find myself walking towards the woman's table and sitting down. It's almost as though I don't have any control over my body anymore. I imagine that Victoria is feeling pretty smug at the moment, but I fidget with my hands on my lap, questioning my sanity.
What if I scare her? She might have actually caught me staring; I remember her turning around so quickly at one point that I had to duck behind my newspaper like a fool.
This is ridiculous.
I start to get up, but then see her once again approaching me, her attention focusing down at the floor. With such beautiful eyes, she should be looking upright and meeting the world, not wasting them on the ground. I wonder what's causing her such pain.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she suddenly glances at me and everything turns a little terrifying. Her face is full of confusion, anxiety and something else that I'm in too much of a daze to identify. Her brown eyes turn wide and her head turns towards Victoria; the woman mouths something to her and she winks mysteriously, before serving somebody else.
I'm fully expecting her to walk away; I honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. Yet, to my complete surprise, she suddenly smiles beautifully, an action which lights up her whole face, and she takes a seat beside me. Now that we're so close, I can smell her flowery perfume; it's almost like everything about her is alluring.
A brief image of Esme flickers in my mind.
"Um... hi."
The woman in front of me speaks and the picture is wiped away almost immediately, replaced by what's in front of me now. Feeling completely overwhelmed by this, I feel there's nothing else I can do apart from smile back, and I watch how her expression changes too. She takes a deep breath and I see that her shoulders aren't so tense anymore; is she beginning to relax around me?
I don't know why that makes me feel so good. I don't know why I'm even doing this.
"Hello," I reply, unsure of what else to add. Strangely, she stares at my neck. In return, I watch as she smooths her hair and makes her messy fringe lay above her eyes.
I can see that this is getting out of control.
Just as I consider leaving, she speaks, not giving me the chance. "Uh... without meaning to sound rude... why exactly are you here? At my table, that is. I don't begrudge you coming in here to drink a coffee or anything."
My eyes turn wide at the unexpected question. Her ramble was kind of... adorable? Is that the word?
I'm definitely in too deep.
Without warning, I chuckle. It's certainly been a while since I had something to genuinely laugh at. "That's a fair question." I dare to lean closer and she doesn't move back or even look startled. Is this progress? "And I'm afraid my answer might sound a little stupid."
"There's only one way to find out." The way she speaks seems somehow seductive to my ears and I sigh once more.
You should stop this, a voice warns.
I need to find something to talk to her about. What was it Victoria had advised...?
"It's your book," I say suddenly, remembering. This could go horrendously; even though I've read the book - my library is pretty vast and I often go there to escape, ashamedly - there's a limited amount of conversation we could have about it.
But the thrill of the unexpected is pumping adrenalin through my body.
You should really stop this.
"My book?" she replies, looking a little confused.
Think, think! "I heard the door opening and glanced up, naturally, to see you carrying it. I read it a few weeks ago." That's a lie; I had the book last year and can barely remember it. This encounter is just full of sin.
Surprisingly, though, we actually start talking about the book and somehow end up laughing; how did this happen?
It's terrible that the guilt inside me that was previously gnawing away has now receded into a dark corner. I've no doubt that it will return in full force later to devour me, but it almost seems worth it to be talking to this intriguing lady.
To make this seem a little more convincing, I ask to look at the book and re-read some lines to help with my memory. A few familiar words jump out at me and I smile to myself; at the same time, I can feel the burn of her eyes on me and look up at my company.
I'm puzzled by what I find.
The sadness in her eyes has returned and it seems to drain the light away from her face. She's almost staring at me blankly and the doctor's instinct to find out what's wrong emerges. "Excuse me, are you alright?" I ask. It feels as though she's looking right through me, like she's imagining that she's somewhere else. "You seem upset..."
Her face crumples and I just want to touch her and make everything better. Even though this thought startles me, I still suffer from the urge.
"I'm fine," she replies emotionlessly, and I don't believe a word.
What have I done? Has she finally realised how crazy this is?
Maybe that's for the best.
"Sorry, I was just going to leave actually." She gets up abruptly and almost loses her balance; I steady her with my hands and feel the warmth coming through her clothing. There's no response from her, though, and she just takes her book back in silence.
"Thank you," I say quietly, not knowing what else to do. "It was... uh, nice meeting you, even though it was very brief."
I mean every word, even though it's all been totally wrong of me, and she looks up at me briefly. I want so badly to make her smile again.
"It was."
Without another action, she heads towards the door and I feel completely helpless. I'm torn between doing something and just standing here doing nothing.
It's turns out that I have no choice anyway.
The door of the café swings open violently without any warning, crashing on its hinges and, luckily, the woman's a safe distance away from harm.
At least I thought so.
In the blink of an eye, the man in the doorway pulls out a gun from his pocket and there are sharp intakes of breath all around the room. We're the closest to him, the most at threat, and my heart plummets as that thought sinks in.
I thought this kind of thing only ever happened to people in movies and television shows.
It looks like I was wrong. Horribly wrong.
Once or twice in the hospital I've had the misfortune of seeing the horrifying damage that a bullet can do. It recklessly rips through flesh, tearing away at muscle and tissue, and could quite easily end a life within seconds.
The man holding the weapon looks unstable and his frantic eyes send a shiver through my body. Without thinking, I move to protect the woman I'd previously thought of as some kind of curse, wanting to keep her from any harm.
It's a natural instinct, an action that's already done before I can even think about it.
He orders each of us around, gathering all the occupants into the middle of the room, and we're all vulnerable. If any of us makes a wrong move, it could all end.
My problems from earlier seem pitifully insignificant now. This puts everything into perspective.
It appears that this man, this twisted horrible man, knows Victoria the owner, and I wonder what could have happened between the pair to spark such an action of violence. He continues to threaten us all and his words drip with venom.
"You're gonna regret doing what you did, Vicky," he sneers. "Although, don't worry, that won't be for too long, 'cause you're all gonna die. Oh, and down here nobody can hear you scream."
He's probably right; this area is secluded. Just earlier I'd been admiring it's silence and privacy; now I'm cursing it.
On instinct, I reach for the woman's hand and squeeze it, trying to both share and find some comfort. She meets my eyes and we share a desperate look; it doesn't last long because we soon lose contact and our hands fall limply to our sides.
I don't know what to feel. I know that I should be worried about not seeing Esme again; part of me is, but the primary worry of mine is making sure that the woman beside me makes it out without harm.
I need to know her name.
The man is busy removing something from his backpack, regularly taking glances back at us, and I use this opportunity to whisper quietly in her ear. "What's your name?"
She jumps slightly and a few of the terrified victims around us look to me in disapproval and fear. "It's Bella," she replies; it's barely audible but I hear her clearly. Bella; what a suitable name.
"I'm Carlisle," I murmur. A strange look passes over her face, but that's probably just from the panic she's undoubtedly feeling.
James, as I remember him being called, returns with a roll of duct tape in his hand and the gun still upright in the other, as threatening as ever. "Get down, now, all of you!" he barks and nobody hesitates. "You two," he points to the two teenagers, "get over there and hand me your phones, now."
They're both crying but they follow his orders and move to the right of the room. He takes their mobile phones and throws them to the floor, crushing them with a twist of his shoe. Following that, he sits them both against separate tables and begins taping their legs together. After this, he tapes their arms behind their backs and secures them against the table.
When he's finished and satisifed that they can't move or escape, he stalks back over to us. Using the gun, he points to Bella and myself. "You two, over here."
He does the same to us two and crushes our only chance of survival before our eyes. Before we can protest, we're both trapped and stuck to the table legs, and Bella, sat on my left with me on her right, looks at me with watery eyes.
It breaks my heart seeing the tears trailing down her cheeks. I want nothing more than to wipe them away.
How is it possible to care so much for a stranger I've only met for about fifteen minutes?
He finally repeats the procedure with Victoria and a middle aged man, and we're all separated around the room in pairs; some are on the left, Bella and I are in the middle, and the two teenagers are on the right, all of us a decent distance apart from one another.
James circles us all, checks that all the doors and windows are locked, and helps himself to a coffee behind the counter.
He is vile.
"This should be fun," he smiles while taking a seat and making himself comfortable in front of us. The gun is swirling in his hand and his eyes travel across the helpless victims. "So, who's gonna be first?"
Before those words really sink in, he moves at lightning speed, and there's a deafening gunshot to the left and screams of horror echo around the room.