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Chapter 6
"Alice, what's wrong?" I pled to her; she was acting very strangely. She had never ignored me before.
"Bella? Bella?" She called, a hint of hysteria in her voice looking everywhere except at me, with the most peculiar look of obliviousness in her eyes. Her head whipped around, searching blindly.
"I'm right here!" I tried to scream, but my voice was stolen with the wind. I clasped my hands around my throat in shock, trying to yell out. The vibration of my voice box rang through my throat, but no sound came out.
"Bella?" She crooned, walking away from me now, and, stupid me, I attempted to go after her. My hand was almost to her shoulder when she was gone. She then stood, about fifty feet away, looking once again, anywhere but where I was.
"Bella?" I was about to try to scream again when I realized that her voice, was no longer her voice. It was a deeper, bass-like one.
And as soon as the nightmare had begun, it ended with me staring up at a face I had known for about a day. Edward sat, comfortably by the cot watching my expression, which I was sure was hilarious to him, as I had woken up violently from the dream. I came to the conclusion that this side wasn't a horrendous dream.
"Oh no," I exclaimed, an energized ball of despair winding up in my stomach. "This is real." I whispered to myself shakily, in my own atmosphere of horror, forgetting Edward's existence for a moment.
"Sorry about that." He muttered, venom singeing his words with a hurt undertone. My heart sank a bit.
"I'm sorry." I murmured back, trying to hide the trembling in my voice. The light filled the room from the open basement door, indicating it was light outside. He seemed to be preoccupied with something. I didn't bother to ask what it was; I was too busy trying to soak in reality. It was harder than it sounded.
This was real; very real.
The menacing growling of my stomach pulled us both out of our reveries, I glared down at it. Now was not the time to think about food. The air stirred as Edward swiftly pulled out a bag of various nuts and shriveled up looking things inside; he held it out, his eyes saying, "Take it." He pushed them towards me as I pulled back.
"What is that?" I blurted in unintentional disgust. He brought his confused gaze down to the bag.
"It's trail mix." He murmured perplexedly, offering them once more. I hesitantly reached out and took them, bringing them close to my body to inspect. The stuff, 'trail mix', appeared horrid, it was all dried out. Who knew what those little withered up things were?
"Those," He turned to the bag and pointed to one of them. "Are dried fruits." He explained in an adult way, glancing to my eyes, making sure I comprehended. I scoffed, taking the bag back from his grasp.
"I knew that." I spat. "But why would anyone want to dry up fruit?" I asked curiously, observing and occasionally poking the bag.
"It helps preserve them longer; they don't go bad as fast." I could practically hear his eyes rolling.
Suddenly, the bag was out of my unguarded hands; I gasped, looking back up to see him opening the bag and taking out about a handful of the stuff. He watched my carefully mediated expression as he reached up to bring his hand to his mouth. In one motion, he threw the trail mix into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.
"What are you doing?" I muttered, confused.
"Showing you this stuff isn't poisonous, it's okay to eat." He resounded with a sigh, and maybe a slight chuckle. My cheeks burned.
"I knew that, I just didn't want any." I turned my face away, and stared into the darkness. I felt the bed shake as he laughed to himself.
"Then eat it, you need energy." He shoved the bag in front of me. I could only stare at it, revolted.
"Um, that's okay." I laughed nervously, trying to back away. "I'm not hungry." At that point, my stomach decided to roar loud enough so that pretty much this entire side of The Wall could hear. If I could've hit it without causing me excruciating pain, I would have.
"Sure." He glared, pushing the bag forward again. I hesitantly brought my hand away from my body and reached into the bag, grabbing a finger full. I gawked at it in my palm, observing.
I shot another worried glance to Edward; his eyes were stoic. Breaking eye contact, I held my nose and brought the trail mix to my mouth, and chewed on it. Not very hard at first, due to my doubt. After it was in my mouth for a moment, a flurry of saltiness and a strange tanginess danced on my tongue; it was surprisingly, not too terrible.
I swallowed, not looking at him; I glared down at my feet. The silence lasted for an eternity.
"Well alright," He clasped his hands together, and speaking louder, I supposed trying to get the flow of conversation back up and running. "Now that you've had breakfast—or lack thereof," He corrected, his eyebrows knitting together for a split second. "I supposed we can plan."
"Plan?" I inquired.
"I'm sure you don't want to be here forever." He looked up to me, with an unfathomable expression.
"Definitely." I answered flatly, wishing him to go on. I was excited by talk of leaving.
"We can't go out during daylight." He muttered; my heart sank. I'd have to spend a whole other day here, at least. "Plus, your wounds have just started healing."
"The medical care on my side is just fine thank you." I spat, the image of leaving this side filling my heart with impatience and anxiety.
"I'm not saying it's not." He responded irritated, his eyes hard.
"I have to get back to my side." The heart necklace around my neck felt as if it were burning.
"I just have one thing to ask." He said, putting his hand to his forehead. I didn't reply, I just stared, waiting.
"What do you hate about this side? Why do you hate this side so much that you can't spend more than five minutes without going into an emotional breakdown?"
My heart rose to my throat unable to find an answer. Well it was, smelly, and dirty, and chaotic; that was bad. It had to be. I mean, it was absolutely positively pathetic. The men were miserable, they died every day, and they had to scavenge for food. It wasn't ideal for anyone.
And yet, even with all these reasons, I couldn't come out and say I hated it. I tried to sidestep around the trap.
"I never said I hated it, per se—"
"Do you know, how much some guys would kill to get even the smallest glimpse of the other side?" He was suddenly angry, I shrank back, shocked by the sudden passion in his voice. "I'm not sure just how things work on that side, but from what I've observed about you, we're not that different."
Not that different.
"T-that's not true." I whispered. We were very different. We were. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
"I'm sorry you're so miserable, but you're just being flat out rude now. You're perfectly fine right now; maybe you should slow down and breathe for a second."
Red hot fury pulsed heavily through my veins, "I can't live here!" I yelled, forgetting that his brothers may be upstairs. I closed my mouth, watching his perfectly furious expression.
"Who said anything about that?" He answered, with a hint of shock in his voice.
"But—"
"Look, I'll get you back to your side." He promised, leaning closer. I held my breath. "But you need to think rationally. Take a breath, smell the roses, take a crack at thinking for once.
"If this goes on, you'll be exposed in the blink of an eye. And that would be catastrophic. No one else can know you're here. We need to cooperate." He pointed to both of us, trying to get the message across using his hands as well. I didn't answer for a while. I contemplated what he said.
It was true, and what would I say about my disappearance? My amnesia? What would I say when I got back?
Ah. That's what he meant by plan. The shamed blush crept up my neck.
I'd never been spoken to that way, by anyone besides my mother. I wasn't sure if I should have been angry or ashamed, I felt both. What originally stopped me from coming back with a spiteful remark was my own bamboozlement; I wasn't sure if I was angry at him, or myself.
"Plan?" I asked quietly, glancing at him from under my hair.
He let out a relieved breath; it looked like he was expecting me to scream at him. And I should have. I would have. But I didn't, because like he said, we had to cooperate. As much as I hated it, I wasn't going to get to my side if I didn't do as he said.
"Right." He breathed, with a smile following this time. Without my permission, I found myself smiling back.
"Now, what would happen if the ones on your side found out you were here?" He asked, with tight eyes; it was obvious he already had a pretty good idea.
A painful shiver rocked my body as I thought about just what would happen if the Hawks found out…. if Mother knew. A vision of me, being dragged viciously by my arms, in front of my peers, in front of Alice, in front of Mother, being taken straight to jail flashed through my mind. The sheer enormity of the institution, the horrible pain I knew lay behind the secret walls of the jail.
"Do you want to hear my idea?" He asked calmly. "I think it'd be best if you didn't go back until you get your memory back." He said tensely, watching my expression; my eyes widened and my head snapped up to stare at him, dazed.
"What?" I gasped, "How long will that take?" I asked desperately, grabbing hold of his upper arm, his eyes widened and he followed his gaze to where my hand rested.
"You've got to let them come back on their own." A very vague answer much to my dissatisfaction.
"So, you don't know how long." I whispered pathetically, looking into his eyes, praying it wasn't true. He nodded. "Oh…no." My head fell into my hands.
"I think it'd be a better idea because, that injury didn't appear out of thin air, you got it somewhere. And you've certainly got bruising on your arms, indicating some kind of struggle." My eyes trailed to where my arm was exposed, my fingertips grazed the purplish blotches.
"Something happened, and you don't want to go back blind. Plus, if you know exactly what took place, you'll be able to cover up your existence on this side much more efficiently. It will be as if this never happened." I could only nod in agreement; as much as I despised it, he was right. He was logical.
Because Edward knows everything. I added cynically, holding back a hard laugh.
I sat with my legs crossed, my head tilted up so I couldn't see him, glaring at nothing. I could hear nothing beyond the angry pulsing in my ears. Who knew when I'd get my memory back? And what did happen to give me my head injury? And it was true; I would never see the light of day ever again if the Hawks knew of my (hopefully brief) stay here.
"So I'm staying." I muttered emotionlessly, feeling different tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn't let him see my face; I covered my eyes with my hair.
"Not for any degree of permanence." He said hopefully, maybe praying that'd brighten my outlook. It didn't. I could read between the lines.
Yes. Yes, I was staying here.
My hand began feeling its way across the gauze on my head once more, feeling the soft texture of it. It wasn't as damp as yesterday by any stretch. Perhaps I was getting better, the sooner that happened, the sooner I'd be gone.
"My dad should be home soon." Edward spoke quietly, changing the subject. I froze.
I hoped I'd have more time. Panic crawled up my spine. A flash of self directed irritation flashed through me. That was incredibly stupid. It's just…another man…
I gulped loudly.
"Why is he home so early?" I questioned softly, surprised by my own curiosity. He looked up at me from under hair hanging in his eyes.
"He's not, he worked the night shift at the hospital last night." He said, not meeting my gaze.
"Oh." I found myself murmuring in awe, I stared at him. "Does he do that often?" I gawked.
"Not usually, last night was supposed to be my shift; I didn't show up, for obvious reasons." A weak, guilty smile spread across his face.
It got quiet; too quiet. I didn't want to face the responsibility that was laid out in front of me, to behold.
"Can I go rinse my mouth out?" I asked to break the silence. I despised the dirty taste I had in my mouth from sleeping open mouthed down here in the dusty basement. I covered my lips with my hand, looking away once again.
"Be my guest." He pointed up the stairs; I smiled at the irony of that phrase. "Bathroom is first door on the left."
"The what?" I inquired. The slang here sure was colorful.
He glanced at me in a funny way for about the millionth time in my stay here. "The bathroom, restroom, and the place you do stuff like rinse your mouth out."
"Oh." I faked realization. I stood up out of the cot, rubbing my sore shoulders, and starting up the stairs; feeling his knowing gaze boring into my back. My legs wobbled from lack of use from my time in bed, I kept my hand on the rail cautiously in case I tripped. That would have been astronomically awkward.
Reaching the top of the staircase, a small quilt and old pillow by the door caught my eye. It looked like it'd been slept in. I turned my head to look back at Edward who was bent over, sleepily rubbing his eyes. My heart skipped a beat.
He'd slept here. Why? What could he have possibly gained? My mind spun wildly like a terrifying whirlwind; this man confused me so much. Where all men like this? I felt the insane pang of curiosity lace through me, tightening my stomach; there lived an unsettling aura of bafflement and unpredictability that seemed to hover over me like a permanent omen ever since I awoke on this side.
I uneasily made my way to the door he'd pointed out, and hesitantly turned the rusted, cold doorknob; my mind had been preoccupied, so I hadn't had any expectations as to what I'd see.
Oh, I was an imbecile. A complete an utter imbecile. It was a lavatory, just a lavatory. To think I said such idiotic things, it was plainly simple what this room was now. As if he didn't already think I was almost handicapped already.
I shut the door with a resigned sigh, and turned to the small mirror hanging on the wall over a wooden sink with a small, uninteresting faucet. Of course the lavatories on my side were much more, extravagant, but it didn't bother me much. I had other, much more seemingly impossible and more vital, things to lose sleep over.
My eyes were bloodshot, and my hair was in a series of perfectly chaotic clumps; heavy bags under my eyes were extremely prominent, and I looked sallower than usual. Typically, my skin was very pale, but this was an extreme I'd never encountered; then again, I don't believe I've ever been through something this life changing. I looked absolutely horrid—oh what would Alice would say (or yell)?
I struggled to turn the stubborn faucet head; when it did decide to cooperate, the water ran low and cold. I cupped my hands and dipped it through the icy stream and brought it to my face, letting it into my mouth. After I had spit it back into the sink, I began to experience a dirty taste in my mouth. With a disgusted expression, which I caught sight of in the mirror, I spit more into the sink, trying to banish the taste.
I turned the water back on and splashed on my face and in my eyes, waking me up effectively. The iciness of the cold stung through my pores, making me alert, and sending a shiver down my spine. I sure missed the soft warmth of the nice, clear water streaming from the nice, shiny faucet head. Once I was back home, I would take hour long showers in nice warm water to wash away all memory of the bitterly icy water here.
After going through my morning routine that I usually followed; I found myself saddened by the extreme change of scenery; I missed my side so much. But Edward was, unfortunately, correct so far. If I let my desires get in the way of what was smart, I could die. Die. A concept I'd never been confronted with (and frankly, hoped never to be).
A faint light streamed in from the foggy, dirty, glass window; the window was at about chin level, and I couldn't even see out of it.
My feet tiptoed unnecessarily towards it, almost as if I'd be reprimanded. I gathered cloth from my sleeve at my palm and began rubbing a circle, cutting through the grime; it surprisingly came off easily. It wasn't that it wouldn't come off, it was just that nobody had bothered to clean it. The kneejerk reaction I had to clean aggravated me, for cleaning would do nothing but waste time on this side. Oh, did I miss my side. I couldn't wait to get out of this hell.
When I'd gotten down to the dirt that was permanently caked to the glass, I could see what lay outside the home. I gasped audibly.
Huge, powerful trees towered so high, I couldn't see the top from where I was. Certainly not as tall as The Wall (nothing was that tall), but truly the biggest trees I'd ever seen. They had dark, brown and red wood trunks, and the leaves were brilliant green, like shimmering emeralds. The overgrown shrubs that clung to the bases of the trees like a girl to their mothers' skirt were covered with an array of magnificently colored flowers. Colors ranging from bright pink, to deep blue dotted them at random. The best part is that it all glistened with early morning dew.
I'd never thought nature anything too interesting to look at, but this was amazing. The trees stood tall and proud, untouched by time. We had no trees like this in Hollow Wood. Trees were placed here and there—but purely for decorative purposes. These had no purpose other to exist. These stood as a timeless symbol, something left untouched by the Volturi.
I felt a deep pang of envy.
I wondered if we ever had things like this on my side before The Wall went up. My stomach clenched as I thought of these being taken down.
The squeaking of the wooden floors ripped me out of my reverie. His father was back.
Thinking on my feet, or attempting to do so, my brilliant hiding place lay behind the door itself. I leapt behind it, trying to flatten myself against the back wall. My heart pounded through my chest and I clenched my eyes shut. The door was wide open and I had limited breathing room.
The footsteps got closer and closer and closer, as I prayed for my salvation.
"…What are you doing?" I heard a voice; I pried open one eye to see Edward leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with an eyebrow quirked at me.
"Nothing." I said haughtily, clomping out the door, my footfall got harder as I heard his chuckling close behind me. I could have shot flaming fireballs from my eyes if I'd wanted to. Then again he'd probably just laugh.
As I was stomping away, I caught sight of a bent image of my face shone in the reflective, glimmering blade of an intimidating long sword hanging on the wall beside me. It was displayed quite proudly with a few others, some blades were sharp on both sides, and others were only sharp on one side. Some blades were needle-like, and then some were short and sharp. The handles were intricately decorated. Yet, they were still old and weathered by time; they were almost pretty. Almost.
I detected Edward's presence behind me, observing along with me.
"My father likes to collect antique swords," He started calmly, admiration, once again soaking his voice. He reached his hand up from behind me, stroking the handle of the big one. "This one is a classic broad sword," He pointed at one of the swords.
"Yeah," I muttered, watching as his finger stroked the side of it.
"They also had these." His hand moved to one that was slightly smaller, but not by much, that had a wave-like design on the side. "This one is double sided, so you could attack the enemy no matter where they were relative to you." I nodded in fascination.
"And this…" He pointed to the long, needle-like one. "Is a rapier sword, it was used to stab." He explained, I watched, mesmerized.
He continued to give details, but I kept finding it harder and harder to focus on what he was saying. The swords were very nice, but I didn't want to know every single detail down the point. My thoughts wandered aimlessly. Maybe it was a male thing. I just smiled and 'ooh'd and 'ah'd at the appropriate times.
Although the swords were nice looking, I passively wondered why anyone would want to collect weapons. They were destructive and frankly unnecessary; well on my side they were.
"Do all men like to collect weapons?" I asked, as an aside.
A snort came from beside me. "We do have some amount of individuality; stereotypes can be very annoying." I caught him smirk slightly in the corner of my eye, taking the edge off the comment.
"Can I take that as a 'no'?" I retorted, feeling a frail smile crawl on my face.
He rolled his eyes. "Sure."
I laughed and let my eyes wander to the far corner of the room. There sat, in its simplistic glory, something I was familiar with.
"You have a piano?" I asked, overly giddy to finally see something I could identify on this side. I ran over to it, and studied it; I had never played it myself, but I'd always loved the way it sounded.
Edward shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, it was my mother's."
"Do you play?" I asked, running my fingertips across its cool surface.
His cheeks went red. "I do; but I'm not that good."
I turned to him, desperate for a little piece of home. "Could you, play something for me?" I pleaded. I saw his eyes widen, so I tried to save myself. "Just a little bit, nothing too complicated." I begged him with my eyes.
He sucked in a large breath and moved to sit down on the piano seat; he motioned for me to sit next to him. He gave me a side smile before placing his fingers on the keyboard, and his fingers started dancing.
The magic that his fingers produced was like none other; it made me question how other women could call what they did piano playing. Compared to him, the most widely renowned players on my side looked like mere children banging on the keys loudly and crudely. I knew then, no other person's piano playing would ever satisfy me. The amount of emotion and passion he poured into the piano's shiny keys was tremendous and overwhelming. I felt like I was being sucked under a water that I never wanted to come out of for air. His brows knit together in a wise and serious way when he played. Each note touched my heart in places I never thought existed.
When he stopped playing, a part of me wanted to cry.
I looked at him with new eyes. The nagging feeling I had been feeling this whole time, but ignoring, intensified a thousand fold, until I couldn't feel anything but that emotion; though I didn't know what to call it. It was so new, yet so powerful and gripping. When I looked at his grass green eyes, I felt my stomach flutter, my heart rate took off, and my thoughts cluttered into an incoherent mess.
I didn't know what was happening to me.
The sound of the front door opening and shutting made me stiffen, and icy shocks rang through my bones; Edward changed too. His face became worried as we both watched expectantly at the corner the person would surely turn down.
"Go in there for now." He pointed absently back at the lavatory door, I obeyed all too willingly, for I didn't want to spring upon (whom I hoped was) his father. I rushed into the room, as silently as I could. But my mind was clouded at the moment, so I could have made a lot of noise without even knowing it. My breath got shallow, as I pressed my ear up against the wooden door, trying to hear the conversation taking place.
"Hi Dad." I heard Edward's voice say. I caught a glimpse of my own expression in the reflection of the mirror: my eyes were wide, and they had the most fearful look of horror in them. I shut my eyes, trying to banish it. I looked like a pathetic, helpless animal.
I heard footsteps as they left the hallway; I desperately tried to listen closer, wondering why he left. Did he not want me to listen?
Muffled voices echoed through the home, I strained to make out the words.
No matter how hard I pressed my ear to the door, I could only hear the tremors of voices; it went from, calm after a while, then silence, then shock. But no anger, much to my astonishment and relief. Where was the anger?
I desperately listened to every minuscule sound I could pick up, some words like 'what' and 'how' were thrown around quite a few times.
The monotonous ticking of the small clock in the corner rang through my head and was in sync with my heartbeat after awhile; it helped me keep my head—which was a lot more of a challenge than I originally would have thought.
The room started to spin from the suspense, I was waiting for that one, giant, exploding "What?" to echo off the walls of the home. Then the door keeping us apart would fly open and I would be dragged by my ankles out into darkness; the idea made me almost bring the lone chair in this room up against the door, locking me forever in this place.
I shakily leaned against the door with my back to it and sank to the ground, taking a small towel in my hand and ringing it murderously in my clenched hands, absently.
What was going to happen? Edward was nice enough, and we did need to focus, but it was so overwhelming. I felt like a cat being drowned in water; it was almost as if I were a small piece in a giant game being played by someone of a higher authority, and I had stupidly strayed off, throwing everything off balance.
I found myself chewing, gnawing, and ripping at the cloth nervously, and I gathered the strength to bring it away from my teeth's grip. The mad pulsing and thumping in my ears drowned out the obviously very heated words coming from the other side of the door.
His father now knew about me, I could hear it in the tenor of his very masculine voice. I shivered, not being able to decipher one specific emotion in it. Edward must have told him, I couldn't imagine much beyond my mental picture of his fathers' face.
It must have been an angry expression, a frustrated one, disappointed…determined. Determined to do something about my existence here. I knew if his father wanted to do something about it, Edward couldn't help, even if he wanted to. Granted, I may have been belittling him, but— according to him—I had no room for the luxury of doubt.
My erratic thoughts in sync with my heart beat kept me from hearing more than just run together phrases; I prayed that the description of his father Edward expressed to me not too long ago would be at least partly true. That he was kind, compassionate, and forgiving (how I prayed he was forgiving). It was my only hope.
A hard thud came to the door. Not like a knock, more like someone was being pushed up against it. Or blocking it.
I yelped lightly and crawled away, pathetically opening the smaller closet door to hide myself in; I felt like a coward. Alice would have had a long, metal rod appear out of thin air and opened the door, and charged out; I wasn't nearly as brave.
By this time, I'd stifled the sound in my ears enough to make out a little of the conversation.
"Remember, she's scared, she's still fragile; you probably shouldn't go in there so soon." An irrational flash of anger came over me; I wasn't quite so helpless. I took in my surroundings once more. Oh yes, I am quite that helpless, I thought exasperatedly.
"You don't know enough about them, she's probably a lot stronger than you think. Step aside son, I can handle this." I guessed that was his father's voice, I sighed a big breath in relief. But if I hadn't been listening so attentively I could have gotten their voices confused, because they sounded so alike. I used to be told I sounded like Mother, but I never heard it. To me, hers' carried a strong sense of poise and assurance mine lacked.
The sound of the door opening sent a shiver of fear echoing down my spine; the door didn't burst open and hit the back wall, like I'd anticipated. It creaked open slowly, and cautiously. My hand frantically felt its way in the closet for anything I could use to defend myself, my hands felt their way to a box; my hand dug into it blindly, the items inside felt like…well I didn't know. Twisting around, I pulled out a few of its contents.
They were weathered, old, children's toys. In one hand I held a palm sized ball, in the other I found a very strange object. It was like sword; only smaller, and plastic; why would you keep a fake weapon? I'll never comprehend the mind of a man, I mused.
"Hello?" A soft voice, similar to the one I'd heard outside, spoke; a shadow hovered on the other side of the wall, I expected it to come forward, but it stayed in place. I never answered, and clutched the things to chest, preparing to use them as a weapon as needed. "Can you come out?" The man asked again, with the illusion of infinite patience.
"Don't be stupid Bella; he won't hurt you." Edward called from the doorway, disgruntled. He'd clearly wanted to handle this, maybe to show his father his knowledge of me. And how if he asked me to come out, I'd trust him and do so. Maybe he was looking for praise.
Anger pulsed through me again. I leapt out of the closet, not seeing the unfamiliar man next to me with a stunned look on his face. But it was shock aimed at not me, but Edward.
With a flick of my wrist, the ball was out of my hands, and sailing towards Edward's unguarded head, and the ball hit his skull with a satisfying thud. He recoiled with a yelp. He covered his head with his hand and looked to his father in amazement as it bounced away and down the hall.
They exchanged a message with their eyes, his fathers' said 'You had it coming.' Edward let out a huff and stalked away, leaving me alone with this stranger. My anger faded as the realization of my true solidarity here came crashing down upon me. My eyes wandered to the man sitting comfortably on the floor, not making a move toward me.
I froze in place, refusing to look at him; he sat silently, waiting for me to say something. My lips stayed pressed together like they held some kind of death grip.
"Thanks." He said quietly, chuckling to himself. The depth of his voice made me jerk a bit; it was bizarre, hearing such deep versions of a voice.
"For what?" I asked softly, but guardedly; I wasn't sure about him still.
"That boy needs to be hit back sometimes." He said with a quiet laughter, I vaguely wondered what he meant by that.
"He does that often?" I inquired, turning to face him now. I almost gasped; he was nearly an exact, older version of Edward (without his green eyes, though) aside from a few features; his eyes were weathered by time and his face had the first signs of wrinkles, but he still looked like he was full of vitality; his hair was golden and his eyes were piercing blue. His eyes seemed to hold a kindness and wisdom of someone who's lived a thousand lives. I saw why Edward admired him.
"When he doesn't get his way…" He half muttered half chuckled. I could only nod, staring off in the direction he'd stormed off in. I pondered this, the tension was still in my limbs, "But, now that we've got you talking, I have a few questions." He spoke, in a quiet astuteness.
"I don't know how I got here, Edward would know the most; he found me." I answered, still looking after Edward, musing. His demeanor had taken such a big turn; I just about didn't recognize him.
"He told me that already. The human brain truly is an astounding organ; it can take so much suffering, emotion, and knowledge." He murmured, it seemed off topic to me, or possibly, I just didn't understand.
"What does that mean?" I asked, making eye contact now, he looked up from his deep set eyebrows.
"It means all the answers are in your mind, you just have to unlock them." He tapped his own temple, in example. Oh.
"And how could I do that?" I asked, curiously, slipping down to the ground.
"Make sure you don't strain your brain, and coax them out." I groaned, I knew what that meant. The glorious Edward already told me this; this man just prettied it up and made it look fancy.
"So let them come back on their own, huh?" I mocked a little louder than necessary, hoping somehow Edward would hear me, wherever he was.
"As I said, the brain is an amazing organ. In some cases, memory comes back merely minutes after reawaking." He offered, trying to make me feel better, and spoon feed me false hope.
"But clearly, that's not the case." I replied, perhaps a little more coldly than I'd anticipated, slowly taking my guard down. The older animosity at myself from earlier rearing its ugly head. I expected some kind of come back for that was what Edward would have done, but of course, I received none, making me feel like an idiot.
I felt him move to stand up like I was, and he made sure not to touch me, for which I was thankful for. "Come; let's go somewhere easier to talk." I nodded numbly and followed him out the room hesitantly. He turned left, and held out his hand in front of me, telling me stop; I stumbled and waited, and looked up questionably.
"Stay here." He commanded, and before I could object, he was moving.
He strode quickly over to the open windows, and shut them each one by one, swiftly and hastily; I pressed my back to the wall. I understood now. I had to hide, hide from the male world. His hands skillfully locked all the windows, and threw heavy blankets over them, sealing out all light, letting no vision in or out. He secured each blanket by nailing them to the wall, I wouldn't be able to look out them again, no one could; they were sealed so carefully.
He stepped over to the giant, ancient, wooden cabinet in the room, and took out about an armful of candles. And, over the span of a minute, I had observed him light each one, and place them around the room so now, it was very dim.
He then, coolly pulled out two chairs surrounding a small, wooden table.
"Come on Edward, you've got to be here for this." He called through the house, in a calm tone; and like magic, Edward walked into the room, with the same face he'd had before, (disgruntled and stifled) only to a slightly lesser degree. His eyes were downcast, perfectly orchestrated to be away from me.
I searched my mind for any way to break the ice between Edward and I. So, smartly, I stuck my tongue out at him to my side as he stood about three feet to my right, and waited for his father to set up the seats. His eyes slid to me, and my joking gesture suddenly seemed like the wrong thing to do. I felt hate in his eyes.
The pressure rose like an electric current, building like a horrible omen.
Then, just as soon as the deadly look had appeared, it vanished with Edward sticking his tongue back at me.
The seriousness of his face when he did it made me laugh; I covered it with my hand. I saw his cheek rise in a smirk in peripheral vision. That was when I filed it away for future reference, that Edward could break any anxiety riddled, tension filled moment; the thought made me giggle once more.
"Come sit here." His father motioned, to one chair. Edward and I both made a move toward it; we stopped and started a face off in unison. His eyes bored into mine, I tried to have the same affect with my own. His tall build loomed over me, he literally had to look down on me, but I stood my ground, nervously. As soon as I thought I was going to break, his father cleared his throat.
"Let me rephrase— Bella, come sit here." He stressed my name; I turned to the seat, throwing one last victorious smirk at Edward's hilariously bewildered expression. I wondered why me though, no one has ever given me a seat over someone else, and certainly not in their own home.
"Thank you, um—"
"Carlisle." He said with a twinkle in his eye.
What? It was terribly improper to refer to someone older than you by their first name; it was considered an enormous sign of disrespect. I only nodded, not comfortable saying it out loud.
"Why?" Edward asked, clearly still distraught about the whole seat thing.
"One being she's a guest and two being you always give a woman your chair if there is only one. Three you were extremely rude, so it's a form of punishment. There, that's three reasons right off the top of my head, you can sit on the floor now." I smiled brightly at Edward, with my head held high; I'd never been stuck up for like that before.
Edward caught my expression, sighed loudly, with defeat evident in his eyes, and plopped on the ground. Carlisle sat in the other chair (It was still uncomfortable saying it in my head), next to me. The sight of Edward, sitting with just his eyes and forehead showing above the table top, directly across from me, was unbelievably funny. His gaze was cold and incredibly displeased, like a child told they couldn't go out to play.
"So," Carlisle started while Edward was still glaring at me. "Let's start from the beginning. Bella, what do you remember?" He asked me. It didn't take me long to answer, I already knew what to say.
"Nothing." I replied shortly. He quirked an eyebrow, I was once again taken aback by the uncanny resemblance they shared, telling me to elaborate on 'nothing'. "I truly don't remember anything, forgive me." I said in the nicest way I could muster, and lowered my head. He had been so kind (as Edward had, I admitted vengefully), but this man was older. I was to show as much respect as possible.
"Oh stop that," He said with heavy authority. "For one thing, we're not going to get anywhere if you have a filter with your thoughts and emotions, we need to get to the bottom of this, and for another thing, that makes me feel old." He stated bluntly, I grinned anxiously and nodded, hoping it will make him happy. I was uneasy with this casualness with an elder. I just smiled, dumbly.
"Alright then, Edward, tell us about when you found her." In unison, we turned and leaned forward waiting for an answer; Edward sat, peeved, with only the top part of his head showing over the table.
"I was taking my nightly walk by The Wall, when I almost stepped on her unconscious head."His eyes narrowed and his cheek rose in a smirk, at me. "She was bleeding, dying like an animal that had its legs ripped off." He exclaimed, animatedly, just to get under my skin. I snarled under my breath. "So I brought her back, and treated her wounds."
I saw Carlisle, reach behind the table, and put his hand upon Edward's shoulder. "I'm proud of you son." He said with such emotion, I felt I should leave the room. Edward's eyes widened with love as the words sank in. He really admired his father, and this was a big thing. He nodded back, not speaking, and they exchanged a knowing glance. I turned my gaze away.
My heart sank at the sight of them; I found myself deeply yearning for that kind of relationship with Mother. With anyone. Someone to look up to, to have someone you want to be just like in the end; I longed for the sensation. The heart necklace burned white hot in my skin, I rested my hand on it, feeling the presence of the strange voice in my head. I was expecting it now; I didn't show any signs of a change. If you were crazy, then you wanted to keep it a secret.
The voice did not utter a word, it was completely silent, yet I felt it there; reassuring me, soothing me. It acted as the hand on my shoulder. I no longer felt alone in this place, and warmth overtook me. Warmth I didn't recognize myself, though I'd just seen it unfolding before me. I wondered what it was called—or even if it had a name.
"Okay, what else?" Carlisle asked.
Edward straightened and spoke with a much more animated tone. "She was out for a while, it was interesting when she rose up out of the grave, but then things went, relatively smooth." We exchanged a humorous look, for we both remembered yesterday's adventure. Or adventure, for him, and a mental breakdown for me.
"Ha, 'relatively smooth'." I snorted, as an aside, I felt both their gazes upon me. It got very quiet as my self-consciousness grew to a treacherous level.
"Moving on," Edward started again, cutting the awkward stillness like a serrated knife. "I don't," He looked to me suddenly. "We don't know how to continue." He corrected, I straightened, enjoying being included in the loop.
An aura of puzzlement enveloped me, what had he meant?
Before now he'd seemed so, in control, so sure of himself. I thought he already had a plan, he seemed like the type. Maybe I didn't really know him very well at all. Honestly, I didn't. I didn't know anybody on this side well enough to do much of anything; I really was alone. The sudden awareness made goose bumps rise on my arms, I didn't know anyone well enough to trust with much. I could possibly be reading too greatly into this, maybe the stress of the situation itself was making me this way.
Or maybe, I was alone; this explanation made more sense.
"First things first, she has to get her memory back." Carlisle stated in a strong way. I was sick of being read that speech.
"I know, I just... didn't know." Edward said stiffly and lowly, keeping his eyes away from me, self doubt plain on his face and in his eye's depths. I leaned forward, puzzled
"Stop doubting yourself, that's a great plan." Carlisle finished, patting Edward's shoulder.
I wanted to slap Edward so hard, he would be the one with amnesia. Mr. You-Must-Never-Doubt-Yourself. Hypocrite.
Hm, I mused despite the last thought, perhaps Edward wasn't as unbreakable as he appeared.
Reviews are my drug, and you are my dealers, so you know the drill; you review, you get the rest of this teaser:
What I saw in his eyes was guilt. Horribly deep guilt. Though I didn't precisely understand it, and that upset me. My peers were usually so conventional; something in my heart told me this wasn't the behavior for all males. This world would be much different if they were…better? I didn't know. In any case, Edward was obviously not average, for anyone. There wasn't anyone even on my side that matched him completely.
"Why?" I said softly, feeling all my animosity built up in the last day evaporate into thin air, almost quite literally. He noticed my gaze, and turned away once again, briskly.
"Nothing." He muttered.
And as he said this, I felt the strangest sensation, like my heart was, hurting, in the peculiar way. Everything was odd, ever since coming to this side, and meeting this boy, my whole world has flipped. Not in the way you'd expect to. I felt somehow more fragile, more vulnerable. And it was only growing stronger. I hated it. And I didn't comprehend it; it was awful.
But the point of the matter was Edward had been right all along; we had to work together. I wracked my mind for a way to use that as an angle.
"Look...Edward," I started, saying his name carefully. "Like you said, we have to work together; and we can't do that if we're hiding things from each other. And your father explained it too; we won't get anywhere if we're filtering our thoughts and feelings."