Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
I want to thank Dellaterra and Truceover for their dedication to helping me make this story look and sound soooo much better than I was able to do on my own. As hard as it's been, I think it's a really good thing to have another set of eyes. This chapter would have been crap without their help and now, I'm actually happy with it. Thanks ladies!
And as always, I love to hear what you all think too.
Enjoy,
E's
After I left, I still kept tabs on her from a distance. I didn't allow myself to get too close to her scent. Occasionally though, I would seek out Renee and listen to her often-frenzied, swirling thoughts. I even found myself back in Forks when the need became too strong. Though I wanted to hear about my precious girl, concupiscent males and envious females harbored thoughts of her that were too lecherous, too repugnant in Phoenix. Charlie thought often of his now-teenaged daughter. He was concerned about her welfare, whether or not she was happy, and he would replay phone conversations in his head. I lived for those thoughts. While I tried desperately to pretend that I no longer had any interest in the girl, I couldn't deny my curiosity about her well-being.
Renee didn't necessarily become a better mother with time, but she hadn't fared worse. She treated her daughter as a sibling or girlfriend, discussing dates and local hot spots, even financial troubles. Isabella never spoke up or asked her to change. She smiled when Renee mentioned the cost of a pasta dish on a date and looked properly saddened when her mother would describe whatever disaster had happened during said date. Apparently, Renee dated often and Charlie had been the preeminent choice in the array of men that Renee had met since leaving him. It was unfortunate that he didn't offer her the drama she sought. Renee was at least decent enough to not bring the men into her home where her child slumbered; instead, she fucked them in the parking lot or, more often, in her driveway, regardless of the evening's disasters.
Renee assumed that her daughter's quiet demeanor meant that she had little understanding of relationships, men, or anything sexual in nature. I didn't have to see Isabella to know that she comprehended far more than her mother believed. While I was positive Isabella had never experienced those things for herself, she was far more astute than she let on. She saw clearly things about her own mother and her bevy of "gentleman" callers that Renee herself couldn't.
Renee kept herself too busy to feel her overwhelming loneliness. She chose to suffocate it into a coma with men and frivolous hobbies. It's not that the woman didn't love her daughter; she did, very much so. She just had no inclination to express it in a parental manner. Her love did not make up for her unwitting selfishness, and the majority of her thoughts focused on herself. Renee's thoughts and memories revealed to me the deep understanding in Isabella's eyes that she had for her mother. Although her mother did a decent job of filling her head with distractions, every so often her unconscious mind would allow thoughts of love and longing to float to the surface. Just as quickly though, thoughts of deep disappointment would swell in her head and fill her chest. I did not have to read minds to see her sudden change in affect from one fleeting thought to the next. Despite her seeming simple-mindedness, Renee's complex brain worked quickly to prevent her from feeling the pain too acutely. Sadly, Renee dismissed these feelings as easily as she did Isabella's insight into her life.
Bella never spoke of those things to Charlie, of course. To her father she claimed that school was great, that she kept busy with friends, and that Renee took wonderful care of her. Charlie never let on to his daughter that he knew better. They were very much alike, though neither would ever be vocal enough to realize it.
It was clear that this father missed his daughter more than he could ever express. He would end each conversation with, "talk to ya soon kid," and on the very rare occasion that he was feeling consumed by his alienation, he would mumble, "love you." Sadly though, Isabella had usually placed the receiver back on the cradle by the time her father got up his courage. Charlie and Isabella took comfort in their self-created solitude, wrapping it around them like an old afghan. Though it didn't keep them warm, it was familiar and well worn.
It was amazing what one could glean from fleeting thoughts even when the individual didn't realize they were thinking them. So it went this way for several years. I watched Isabella grow through the thoughts of others, but I would not allow myself direct contact with her. Physical contact was definitely out, but I also denied myself the pleasure of seeing her directly. After this much time away I would need to reacclimate myself to her, her scent, the feel of her skin. For the time being, the mirrored image, although foggy, would have to be enough.I knew I would run back to her, and she was still far too young and innocent for me to ruin her life. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of destroying her at any stage of her existence, but I was resigned to the fact that it would happen one day. The least I could do to show her the extent of my devotion (and perhaps indulge in my God complex) was to allow her to become an adult first. My love for her was intense, but my obsession was desperately painful. However, I was determined to prove that I was stronger than any human, more cunning and powerful than even I knew myself to be.
As the years went by, her features stayed delicate and refined. Her hair darkened and cascaded down her back in waves with red overtones shining in the sun. Her body stayed slender with little muscle tone. She could have made a beautiful dancer if it were not for her utter lack of gross motor skills. At 17 she remained much as she did at 14. Her breasts remained small but they suited her frame well.
Renee's version of her daughter changed as Isabella did. While she never appeared to pay much attention to her offspring's thoughts or feelings, Renee was fairly adept at noticing her daughter's physical changes. Though there was never jealousy in her mind, Renee always took note when a potential suitor paid particular attention to her daughter's pale, flat abdomen or pointed nipples through thin cotton shirts. Renee was familiar with what men were after despite the words they flattered with. She also knew that the attention and affection only lasted for so long. She had given up on understanding her daughter long ago, but she knew Isabella could do better than she had, could avoid falling hard and fast for some boy and forever bearing the consequences.
Charlie however, saw his little girl forever as such. She barely changed in his mind's eye, remaining a precious little doll to him. Charlie wasn't to blame though, as he hadn't seen Isabella in person since she was 14. He was so confused the day she called to tell him she would no longer be spending her summers in Forks. She tried her best to spare his feelings, but in the end she couldn't help but tell him that she no longer wished to spend her vacation fishing, watching sports, and being forced to hang out with his friend's son. His imagination and memory were really all he had left. Isabella sent school pictures that graced his dusty mantel, but even in those, the lighting gave her a childlike quality with sparkly eyes and freckles dusted over smooth, clean skin.
It was with this vision in mind that Charlie agreed to let his unsullied yet nubile daughter move in with him at the age of seventeen. I wanted so badly to stay away from her and keep her clean. Sadly though, I wanted to feel her pulse, let its rhythm soothe me, and then sink my teeth into her warm, fragrant thighs even more.
Eighteen. I had to let her reach eighteen, if only to convince myself I was less of a monster than I truly was. I knew she would be arriving in Forks soon. Her mother, apparently, had met someone who wanted to stick around. From what I could gather, this man held no ill will toward my girl, nor did he see her as anything but a daughter. However, being the selfless person she was, Isabella wanted her mother to enjoy her time alone with this somewhat decent man. I was unable to decipher whether or not she was trying to reconnect with her father, or if she figured she might as well be lonely somewhere else. I hadn't yet decided if I would let her know of my existence, or if I would continue to watch her from afar. Now that she would be with her father, my brain slowed and quieted down as I lessened my constant vigil on her welfare. She would be happy here. I would see to it.