Two

Hopeless

The next day I woke from the pain.

I guessed that it was somewhere around 3 AM; I had always had a keen sense of time. I was sure the household would be asleep, which, despite my people phobia, gave me a sense of insecurity. Maybe it was just because the house was foreign and I was in a place called Forks, injured and trusting people when I usually didn't trust anyone. I was being forced to trust them, and in all honesty, I didn't like it.

That and it was dark. I'll be the first to admit that I'm also afraid of the dark, childish as it may seem.

I shifted when I could, carefully trying to avoid moving my legs and shoulder to much. I didn't feel as sick as before, but my back was starting to ache from lying down so much. When the pain got to be too much to bear, I closed my eyes and tried some labor breathing techniques (my last foster mother had been a yoga instructor) and it helped ease the pain, just a little.

That's when I heard a knock at my door.

I remembered his face instantly; the blond hair, the bright, calm eyes, the youthful face; it was a relief to see his head pop into the room.

"Come in," I said. With him in the room, even my pain felt like nothing.

He came up next to me without much more than a footfall, sitting on the edge of my bed. I couldn't tell what it was that made me instantly like him; I had never really liked anyone. It bothered me why he was so different.

"I came to check on you." He said softly, though his eyes seemed distracted, locking firmly on mine. He looked a little strange, but I still wasn't nervous. "To see if you need anything."

"No, thanks." I mumbled half heartedly, trying to push myself to a sitting position. My back was seriously killing me.

Black spots appeared in front of my eyes as my shoulder flared with pain and I heard myself let out a yelp.

Stupid . . . stupid . . . stupid!

"Carlisle said you were stubborn." He said, helping me up, putting more pillows behind me. I sighed, defeated, as he chuckled lightly. "Are you positive you don't want anything?"

I was wishing that the other guy . . . Emmett . . . was here. At least then I wouldn't have been so hesitant to make a sarcastic comment. When I was settled again, he was still standing, looking at me with compassion.

"Perhaps we got started out on the wrong foot. Carlisle says your name is Brielle."

"Brie,"

"Brie," he repeated, nodding gentlemanly. "It's my pleasure. I'm Jasper."

"Um . . . nice to meet you." I was never good with formalities.

"We cooked some dinner for you earlier but Carlisle said you needed to rest. Are you hungry?"

My stomach answered before I did, growling now, but I still felt an ache of nausea that made me cringe. I was hungry, but I had no idea if I would even be able to keep any food down.

"You'll need to eat something," he said, as though he had read my thoughts.

I looked over at the jug of water and the empty glass on the table next to me. Without speaking, he poured me a glass and helped me drink; I was embarrassed to find that my hands and arms didn't respond very well. I drank a couple glasses down before speaking again. I felt a little better now; at least it seemed possible that I would keep fluids down.

"Something light, I guess. . ." I mumbled. "Got any saltines?"

"I'll see what we can gather up for you." He said with a grin and then was out of the room.

I stared at the walls in silence, the soft moonlight shimmering on the CD's and the spotless shelves. They must have stuck in me in some kind of study, was my guess. Not to many teenagers I knew had such clean rooms like this. The smell of the place was also something I had picked up on; it was hard to describe – but I liked it. It was . . . attractive. Akin to walking past a man's clothing store in the mall; some things just draw you in.

The next thing on my mind was a bit harder to wrap around. How was I going to get out of here? I had been with my last foster family for two years and felt certain, despite the odds for a sixteen year old, that they were going to go through the whole adoption process. They were the first family I had really gotten any sort of attachment too, even if I never openly said anything about it. I think they got the message regardless. And then . . .

And then they were gone, just like all the others before me. But this time, there had been a reason - I had seen them die, murdered right before my eyes. There were two men, which was all I could remember about them. I don't remember being bound and gagged, just that when I woke up next, I was . . . and traveling down some unknown highway in the back of their vehicle. I remember that I wasn't terrified at first. Instead, I was filled with utter, bitter hate. And then the wreck had happened, and now I was here, and they were still out there.

My eyes took in the shadows around the room again and I felt a shudder run down my spine. I wanted to cry but was to frozen with pain and thought to do much else than sit there.

When Jasper returned, I was determined to eat on my own, and I picked up the crackers he offered me with dumb fingers, shaking with the effort. I hated feeling so weak. When I looked up again, he was still there, sitting across the room, gazing out of the window, unmoving. Part of me wanted to tell him that he didn't need to be my watchdog; that he could go back to bed.

But that part of me never spoke. Instead, I quietly nibbled at the crackers and then closed my eyes, not intending to fall asleep, but somehow managing to do so anyway.

* * *

I woke somewhere in the middle of the day next, my neck crooked to one side. I blinked and slowly raised my head. There was no sun; instead snow was clinging in large clumps on the window beside me and I shivered.

"Oh good, you're awake!"

I jumped and winced, remembering that voice from before. Her name . . . Alice?

"Yeah . . . I don't think my bladder would let me sleep much longer . . ."

She laughed a little as I continued to grumble at the window. I hated the cold.

"The bathroom's down the hall, but Carlisle didn't think you could walk."

"Are both my legs actually broken?" he had never said anything directly, just that I had been smashed up pretty good.

She shrugged her petite little shoulders and clasped her hands behind her back. I looked up at her and she was smiling. Not exactly what I wanted to see right now.

"Not necessarily. Your right leg and shoulder he thinks you just sprained. It's your left leg that he's more concerned about; he needs to make sure though. Today, he's going to run you through some x-rays, after he gets off his hospital shift." After all I did was nod and look away, she spoke up again. "I can help you . . . you know, get to the bathroom. Carlisle was sure to provide a wheel chair."

I looked up at her, feeling slightly embarrassed and in awe at the same time; these people had everything.

"So are you feeling any better pain wise?" I heard her ask as she shuffled around with something behind me. "Carlisle gave you some morphine a while ago to hold off the pain for a while. Jasper said you were having quite a bit."

I was too stunned to say anything for a moment. True, I hadn't been in pain when I woke up. But medication had never done anything for me before; I don't see why it would work now . . . and when exactly had he done it? I would have thought I would feel a shot going in my arm. Nor had I complained about my pain before . . .

"Ready?"

I looked up at her, my cheeks turning red as she kicked out the folded chair. I didn't like this feeling of helplessness, especially in someone's home. If I had been in a hospital, at least I'd have more of a reason to feel less embarrassed, but I didn't see myself walking on my own anytime soon. I sighed and shifted so she could help me down. I staggered slightly, but she caught me and all but lifted me into the chair. It surprised how strong she seemed; she seemed so . . . tiny. Then it occurred to me . . . I had a damaged arm and two damaged legs . . .

"Should I be moving at all?" I asked.

"You're legs are in splints," she said it so casually that I shook my head as looked down at them. "And you're arm is bandaged up nice and tight until he can get a better look."

Wow, I must have been really out of it . . .

As I was pushed down the hallway, I couldn't help but be in awe of how big the house was, how bright and open the windows were. Alice was whistling behind me, and I heard a low murmur of voices below. I didn't both trying to figure out how many others there were here. I felt bad enough that I was infringing on their empty space. Simply being here at all felt like too much.

But from the looks of things, I wasn't going anywhere fast.

At least here I could remain somewhat confidential.

* * *

Hours later, with a full stomach now and pain slowly rising pack to the surface, I found myself smelling the clean smell of a hospital and lying on my back as a large x-ray machine towered over me. Part of me felt more comfortable seeing Carlisle in uniform, complete with real nurses. At least he wasn't some nutcase.

Turned out my left leg was indeed broken, but nothing beyond repair. My right leg was just twisted wrong and stressed, so it felt like it was broken (or that was my conclusion) and my shoulder had a similar problem, not to mention it was so bruised up that my entire arm was black and blue. He preformed on my leg that night and when I woke up again, not only was my leg in a cast but I was also back at the Cullens' house.

I woke with a muffled groan, blinking at the person standing above me. It was Carlisle, and behind him was Alice and another woman; Jasper peeked around the corner.

"Good Morning, sweetie." It was the other woman and I looked at her dumbly as she took my hand in hers; her skin felt soft. "How are you feeling?"

I blinked at her and then realized her hands were cold too. God, did this people ever turn on their heater?

"This is my wife, Esme." Carlisle said, distracting me.

"Hello," I muttered.

She smiled, looking so motherly for a moment that I lightly gripped her hand back. She leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. Alice was looking at Jasper and beckoned him in the room. He nodded to me and stood straight and proper beside Alice. Carlisle put a cool hand to my forehead.

"You seem to be doing well. How do you feel?"

I shrugged. I felt dizzy, really, but I wasn't in as much pain. That was a bonus.

"I survived." Was my meek reply. I turned to Jasper and for the first time (to my knowledge) I smiled sincerely at him. "Thanks . . . for saving my life."

Alice beamed and hugged his arm as he gave a sheepish nod back. I didn't know what possessed me to do that. I rarely thanked people for much. Not that I was being crude, I just felt awkward saying it. But it was Jasper . . . and he had somehow magically gained my trust literally over night. I sighed and looked up at Carlisle. He was giving me a look that said he wanted answers. Esme ushered the other two out of the room as he sat down in a chair next to the bed I was in.

"I want to talk to you." He said smoothly, his eyes kind and bright.

I sighed and looked away grumpily. I wasn't giving.

"Look," he began again. "I pulled a lot of strings to let you stay with my family instead of keeping you at the hospital. It isn't exactly normal for a teenager to be bound and gagged in the middle of car wreck with no one else in sight."

I nodded. That was true.

"I thought you might feel safer here."

"I don't know where I feel safe at." I said, brushing hair out of my face. "I don't know where safe is anymore."

"Well," he said, leaning back. "We'll start on building trust. My family and I want to help you, if you'll just let us in."

"Yeah," I remarked offhandedly. "We'll see about that . . ."

"What happened?"

The tone of his voice captured me, and I turned to look at him again. His eyes seemed to grow brighter, pulling me in, willing me to pour my soul to him . . .

"I told you," I growled suddenly. "I don't remember anything."

The atmosphere in the room seemed to change, or maybe it was just me. I wanted to hug my knees to my chest and let my mind go for a while, but considering the impossibility of the action, I settled for shutting my mind down and deciding to deny anything he threw at me.

"You're lying, you're scared, but I respect that." He sighed as he stood up and I was biting my tongue. "I won't push you now, Brie. But we want to help you, let us. At least tell me where you come from."

Where I come from . . . hm, where to start?

"It doesn't matter. As soon as you give my name out I'm back into foster care anyway." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I hadn't said them.

You see, there's this thing about kids being in foster care that brings out a sensitivity factor in people when they usually aren't apt to pity on the general public. It was okay for little kids, the ones that actually needed the attention, but when you've been living a life like mine (and I know plenty of other teens that would agree with me), the pity gets old, mostly because you know that by now if no one wanted to officially adopt you before now, your chances were just getting slimmer. It didn't help when the government officially gave up on you at 18 either.

As expected, this struck a chord with Dr. Cullen.

He sat back down again, using those intense eyes of his again, but his face was concerned and soft all at the same time. I was ready for what he was about to say; I had to face it. I had heard it all before.

"Do you know, Brielle, I have five children?"

Good for him.

"All of which are my foster children?"

Well, wasn't expecting that . . .

I could only stare, zombie like at him before realizing my mouth was open. For a second, I couldn't decide whether I hated him, because he was just another foster parent, or . . . or . . . I didn't know what else. My brain just couldn't wrap around irony of ending up in another foster home in a rather unplanned way.

"So . . . so . . .Jasper, and . . . Alice . . ." I blinked rapidly. "And Emmett . . ."

"You have yet to meet Rosalie and Edward, but we'll let you get your bearings for a few days first, I think." He said with a grin.

It made sense, I guess, now that I thought about it. Him and his wife were so young, there was no way they should've had teenage children already. And he had so many . . . I had never been with more than three others.

"So you don't have any parents?"

His question hung, unanswered in the air for a long time. I didn't know what to say. If I admitted to seeing my last foster family being murdered, I knew they'd find the authorities and be rid of me again, because I had been involved in something suspicious. I was bound and gagged in the middle of nowhere in Forks, Washington with no suspects around and from what little information I had heard, there was no news on the case. I wouldn't blame them for wanting to be rid of me. I would bring to much trouble to their quiet little family.

"No." I finally said. "I don't have any parents, doc. I never have had any actually, and by the looks of things, I never will."

He laid a cool hand on mine but I pulled away with a hard stare. He didn't back down.

"Don't give up. None of my children ever did, and I would not give them up for anything."

"Yeah, you say that now." I muttered.

He gave me a look that said volumes; I knew this because I'd seen it before. The look that said he wasn't angered by what I said, nor was he offended. He was sorry for me, and wished I could see his side of the story, and have some hope.

But I knew there wasn't hope. I had stopped caring. Teenagers were hardly the keepers, if anyone got adopted it was the little kids. Kind of like walking into a pound; the puppies are usually the first to go. The older dogs know the drill and you can see it in their eyes as you walk past; they may thump their tails a time or two, but don't expect them to get to too excited.

"Just face it, doc, I'm a stray. My past doesn't matter. I've grown too resilient against the world, nothings going to change."

"If you would just let us help you, Brie, I'm sure – "

"Just get out!" I snapped.

He looked taken aback, and this gave me some satisfaction. I turned away, eyeing the foggy window.

"I'm sorry." I muttered emptily.

I felt him touch my shoulder and then heard the door close. After a few harsh moments of restrained breathing, I finally let myself cry.

I didn't bother any of them for the rest of the day.