Thanks you for the reviews, people…
Don't own Twilight.
Chapter Four
"How are we today, Bella?"
She was staring out of the window. She did this frequently-sat near the window and cautiously peered outside as if she were afraid that all this would go away in a moment.
Edward felt as if he knew her. Maybe it was because he had rescued her himself.
She'd stood amidst the carnage with a beatific smile on her battered face. She had been the very embodiment of phoenix with her head thrown back and her eyes closed.
He touched her shoulder gently and she was startled out of her reverie.
They didn't speak each other's language and yet that didn't prevent him from trying to have conversations with her. Sometimes she looked at him as if she was unsure whether or not he was real.
Bella had been through a lot.
When he'd brought her in, she'd been suffering from acute weight loss and dehydration. She'd been raped continuously over a long duration of time and her captors had found an exceptional joy in whipping her.
She was afraid of people and she didn't let anyone touch her except for him. The nurses whispered that it was the result of his exceptional good looks but he liked to think that she found some sort of comfort in his presence.
She was healing nicely. He gestured her to tilt her head. The bruise around her neck was almost gone.
'So, now that we are done with our daily dose of check-up, you can start your story anytime you like,' he said as he pulled the chair to sit down at her bedside, his clipboard resting on his knees.
For a moment she was quiet, utterly silent and she just looked at him with those dark chocolate eyes of hers, wonder and gratitude a hard emotion to overlook or ignore.
'Malek,' she whispered softly, and he wanted to turn his head away.
He was no god, but that was what she called him. One of his volunteers had heard her say it, and Edward in his curiosity had asked the meaning of the word.
'I never wanted to marry Fayad, but it was father's will and hence I could do nothing to oppose it. Even when they were painting my hands with henna, I prayed and prayed in my heart for anything to stop the marriage,' she said sadly. 'When they took me away and killed everyone, I knew I had somehow been responsible for everything. I had been selfish and Malek was punishing me for it.'
'It wasn't your fault, Bella,' he said patiently, his face unmarked by the feelings that were brewing inside him.
'Wasn't it? I didn't want to marry, Fayad. I hated him.' Tears escaped her eyes. 'I hated the way he touched me, and I prayed for it to stop.' She took a shuddering breath. 'Had I known what my wish would bring, I would have married him gladly.'
'Bella.' He gently touched the back of her palm. 'Militants had been active throughout your country and it was just a matter of time before they launched their attack against the people of your religion.'
Every day, Edward Cullen patiently sat by her bedside and heard her story even when he couldn't understand a word. Every day, he tried to make her believe that she'd not been the reason for everyone's death, that she'd not been wicked enough for god to punish her with hell.
And yet she never believed him.
'What did I do wrong?' she asked desperately. He had no answer that he could give.
How could he make her understand that some people looked at the world in a one dimensional way and for them, religion was the heart and soul of their existence? How could he make her understand that a madman had waged a war on people of her religion because he thought people like Bella were Satanists?
Even in this day and age, people like Bella were punished because of their choice to worship a manifestation of god that others didn't understand.
How could he make her understand all that?
'You did nothing, Bella,' he answered after moments. 'They were the ones in wrong.'
He didn't know if she'd understood him or not because she was still agitated, still restless.
He got up, ready to leave the girl who'd somehow found a place in his daily routine, who'd somehow found a way to interrupt his thoughts every second of the day.
'Edward,' she called and he paused.
She rarely called him by his given name, and when she did he could do nothing but stop and admire the way her voice caressed the syllables of his name. He knew this was getting out of hand, and as a doctor, he was supposed to offer comfort, not grow attached to his patient.
'Edward?'
This time he bent towards her, ready to hear the parting goodbye. But unlike everyday, she didn't mutter a soft farewell; instead, her fingers touched his cheek gently, almost shakingly.
His world fractured with that bare brush of her skin on his, and when it came together again, it wasn't the same.
He wasn't the same.
'Will I ever forget?'
He was a mute spectator of his own unraveling. Her fingers had not left his cheek, and he found that his hands were touching her cheek in a mirroring gesture out of their violation.
What was happening to him?
'You are going to be okay, Bella,' he promised as he wiped her tears. 'We are going to be okay…'
