Fix You
Chapter Eight
Carlisle's POV
Conflicted is a word that's used broadly nowadays, but it perfectly sums up how I feel right now.
I'm sitting in a hospital, a place that's become some twisted kind of second home of late, waiting for somebody who means an irrational amount to me to get better. To a stranger, it sounds like the right thing to do, as though I'm being a good Samaritan.
But my wife strongly disagrees.
At first, she understood that I wanted to ensure that Bella's condition was improving. She'd nodded when I intitially told her everything that had happened, sympathy and horror mixed on her tired face. She told me that what I wanted to do was normal; she kept repeatedly saying she understood, she understood.
That's not true. Nobody could ever understand what Bella, myself and a small group of unfortunate individuals had to endure.
Only we will have the memories engrained in our mind for the rest of our lives.
I'm desperately afraid that Bella has been deeply traumatised. Whenever I look at her, during the short periods that she's conscious, I sense that her eyes aren't really taking me in; in her mind, she's back in the room having the gun pointed at her.
It's a miracle that she survived.
I know that she'll need help. She's like a bomb, about to go off. It won't be long now.
Yet Esme can't seem to grasp this concept. She tells me that I have to leave her now, to let go and get on with my own life. Apparently I need to recover and act as though it never happened.
That's quite difficult to do when there are police, news reporters and curious individuals everywhere I seem to turn. Our names have become common knowledge in this small town and now the attention is becoming overwhelming.
It appears things won't be normal again.
But, being disillusioned as she is, Esme seems to think it will. In all honesty, it's been making my blood boil.
The bond which had been holding us together before was already strained enough, but after this whole nightmare, it seems as though it's close to snapping.
Whenever we interact, I try to say as little as possible. Normally I give just a curt nod. It seems forced to do anything else.
Maybe it's disrespectful and rude, but quite frankly she isn't my top priority right now.
Even thinking that sounds horrible.
I peek through the window to Bella's room and see that she's sleeping, twitching every now and then because of her dreams. It's been two weeks now since it happened and, physically, she's slowly improving. There were no complications during the surgery – the most stressful few hours in my life, bar the obvious – and everything had gone smoothly. It was such good fortune that the bullet had been where it was; it sounds clichéd, but if it were anywhere else, then she...
It hurts to think that.
So physically, she's good. But mentally and emotionally... not so much.
Flashbacks are terrible things.
I have them everytime I close my eyes, but I can cope; I'm a doctor and I've had some experience of blood and death. But Bella had to deal with it all in one go, and she might have cracked.
James has truly ruined our lives, and they haven't even found him yet.
The police have ensured me that we're all safe; they say he's unlikely to attack again.
This time, if he comes anywhere near me, I won't be responsible for my actions.
I catch myself suddenly, realising how violent that thought is; if I react that way, I'm essentially becoming him. That makes me shudder.
Through the glass, I see Bella's eyes flutter open and I hurry inside, regardless of the consequences. I take a seat by her side and wait until she notices me. Slowly, she sits upright - it's safe to do so now - and turns a little towards me.
"Hi."
She somehow makes me feel better with that single word. Even though it's monotonous and quiet, I smile at her. "Hi, Bella. How are you feeling today?"
"You ask me that everytime I wake up," she murmurs, a wry look on her face. "I'm not too bad today."
That seems to be a loaded sentence, but I don't ask her to elaborate any further.
"How much longer will I have to spend in here?" she asks, sipping her water. I watch her carefully.
"Wounds like yours take a long time to heal, there's no point in lying about it." Her face seems to drop, so I scramble for something positive. "However, if you take good care of it at home and go to regular check ups, it should be within the next few weeks."
"But it's already been, what, a fortnight?" she says, sounding like a grumbling child. I have to resist a smile.
"It's for the best."
With a sigh, she nods. "I know. I believe you."
After a brief pause - during which a nurse checks on Bella, ensuring she has enough pain relief and any other essentials - she turns to face me with a serious look on her face. "Carlisle, you've been looking really sad over these past few days."
My chest suddenly feels light; when she was away from the memories, Bella had actually been observant. I think over my response. "What makes you think that?"
"You just look sad," she replies simply.
I run a hand through my hair. Judging by the look on her face, Bella knows that she's right. "It's just stress over what's happened. Nobody else seems to understand."
"That's why we-" She trails off, shaking her head. "You've got Esme, though."
I'm overwhelmingly curious to hear what she was going to say, but the latter part of her sentence distracts me. The thing is, I don't want to have Esme.
I can't say that though, so I just mumble in agreement.
As if by some weird coincidence, there's another knock on the door and the woman on topic herself steps inside, her face strained.
Fantastic.
"I thought you'd be here," she says to me breezily, but I can hear the hidden edge to her voice. "Isabella, you're looking better. That's good to see." I bet it is, you can't wait to steal me away.
Bella smiles up at Esme and she looks beautiful. Even though it's not a genuine smile, it's still a ghost of a possibility of what I could see in the future.
No matter what, I'm keeping in touch with Bella. I've decided. Nobody can stop me.
"Carlisle, I need to have a word with you outside, please."
"I'm visiting Bella."
"I'm just demanding a few minutes out of your time," she says. "Surely you can manage that."
I think it's obvious to everyone in the room that her tone is full of barely contained irriation.
With the quietest of sighs, I stand up and tell Bella that I'll be back before she knows it. Of course this riles Esme even more, but that doesn't matter. As we head outside, I suddenly realise something.
I've gone from caring for Esme to despising her right now.
It's happened so quickly I've barely even noticed it.
I don't know how I feel about it, so I push it to one side and try to focus on her face as she stares at me.
"Carlisle, what the hell is going on with you and her?"
I feel myself frowning at her question; tough one to answer. "What do you mean? I'm merely visiting a woman who was enduring the same ordeal as me just a few weeks ago. It's only natural to-"
"Yes, we've been through all this before, over and over again! You said you'd leave when she was getting better and she is now! Why can't you let go?"
"We have a connection. I feel obliged to help her."
"A connection?" she scoffs. "What's that a code for?"
"A code?" I repeat incredulously. She thinks something is happening between Bella and myself.
Again, I don't know how to feel about that.
"I wouldn't be surprised if something's going on! I've seen the way you look at her, Carlisle!"
"I'm concerned for her!" I reply, raising my voice a little. It attracts a few curious glances but I carry on regardless with this ridiculous conversation. "You're probably not familiar with it, but sometimes others can be selfless towards strangers and actually show compassion! What's happened to you lately, Esme? You've become consumed by this obsession; you were different before! Nothing is going on!"
Yet.
"I can't help it, Carlisle! I love you, so I care! I just want you back home safe with me!"
"Yeah? Well we can't always get what we want!"
On that note, I head back in to see Bella, trying to ignore what thoughts her words have sparked inside of me.
"Goodnight, Bella."
As she drifts off to sleep, only just recovering from another severe panic attack that came out of nowhere, I wonder to myself if perhaps I'm becoming too involved with her.
She's never really complained when I've been near; in fact, she appears to be grateful for my presence. Or maybe that's my own hope creeping through, creating false ideas to taunt me with.
I'll have to ask her if she still needs me.
A part of me is telling my mind that this is bad; maybe I'm becoming too attached. I've already told her how I feel the need to protect her, but why exactly is that? Am I falling for somebody who isn't my wife?
I don't even know that much about her. We've had a few jumbled conversations at the hospital, but most of the time Bella's been disorientated with the drugs that are pumping through her system, so her responses weren't exactly rich and informative.
She probably doesn't remember half the things she's been saying to me.
Everything used to be so simple before this; I'd wake up, go to work, come home and then sleep. No drama with guns, another woman and jealousy.
Although, ever since I've met Bella, I've felt some hope. Hope that maybe my life can become interesting again...
But then again, would I rather an interesting life that's complicated, or a boring life that's easy?
Hmm.
"Right, I've had enough, Carlisle!"
Once again, Esme comes storming through the door uninvited and I glare at her furiously. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Can't you see Bella's sleeping?"
Her face scrunches up unattractively. "Bella this, Bella that! Carlisle, if you don't give this girl up by tomorrow evening, I'm leaving. It's becoming evidently clear that you feel something more than friendliness towards her and if it continues I'm not putting up with it! I will not be considered second best by my own husband!"
And with that, she leaves, her heels echoing down the corridor.
I suddenly have another twist in my increasingly complicated life.
Placing my head in my hands, I resist the urge to yell in frustration.