Stormy Skies – Alice's story
(Windy Afternoon outtake)
A/N: I always had Alice's back story in my mind from the start, but I didn't feel that the details were necessary at the time. But people have asked me about it, so I felt it was only right that Alice's story be heard. Please ensure that you read Windy Afternoon first, else this story will make little sense to you. And please don't hate me – I never said her story would be pretty.
To those of you who admitted to crying at the end of WA, there is a chance you may end up doing so again. But who knows? I've been wrong before.
Thanks go to my pre readers, Busymommy, and Lutzisnutzforme for their encouragement on this project, and to my beta, Mxpi1970.
Disclaimer: All characters owned and created by Stephenie Meyer. I own nothing, except my own blue eyes and dimples.
~xxXxx~
Alice's POV
I tried to be brave as I prepared to leave him that morning, not wanting him to see the pain I felt as my soul was slowly ripped in two. I kissed him adieu, never goodbye, savouring the feel of his soft lips against mine one last time until fate saw fit to reunite us once more.
He didn't try to make me stay; his actions alone betrayed his feelings. His strong arms held me tight as he kissed my hair, my neck, my forehead, before finding my lips one last time. I responded with everything I had, my hands caressing his neck and delving into his hair, as our lips gave their all, each creating an indelible imprint on the other.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Oh Juliet, how right you were.
As I drove away, watching him slowly disappear in the distance, the tears fell as my soul mourned.
~xxXxx~
When I arrived back at my temporary accommodation, I unpacked my few belongings and ran a practised eye around the place. Everything looked ok. I went downstairs and asked Mrs Landry if anyone had come looking for me whilst I was away. She shook her head, smiling reassuringly, and with a smile, I bounced back upstairs to load my photos from the shoot.
I was happy with the overall results and was sorting them into a portfolio for my potential client when I came across the candid shot of Emmett, lost in his memories. For the longest time, I simply gazed at him, daring to dream of a future where we could be together - free. Unable to resist, I printed it out on my printer's maximum size setting and pinned it to the wall by my small bed as proof that my memory was not mistaken.
As time wore on, the photo would serve as a talisman, keeping me safe from the nightmares and the terror.
~xxXxx~
Life carried on as usual for a while. Ever watchful, I continued to work, landing a small contract here and there, the popularity of the beach shoot bringing me a small taste of success as the client passed my portfolio on to other small businesses. I kept using the same fake name for my business, hoping against hope that James would not recognise it if he ever stumbled across an advertisement in a local magazine.
I still lived in fear. The past would never fully heal, not until he was removed from my life and locked away for good. Only then would I fully relax.
Oh, but he was wily. The police had almost caught him a number of times, but each time he slipped the net, assuming another fake identity as he deftly dodged their attempts to apprehend him. They reassured me that it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.
Time was something I had precious little of, not while James was still on the loose, and intent on retrieving his prized possession, his puppet... his whore.
Life with James had always been like walking a tightrope.
He had found me as a young, impressionable sixteen-year-old, orphaned at an early age, and flattered me as only a true master could. I shyly believed his lines about my beauty and my innocence; I accepted that he knew more about life than me and that he knew best when it came to what was good for me.
He looked after me. And for a while, it had been good.
Then everything changed.
That first time would be forever burned into my brain.
He had been drinking, and had come back to our small apartment stinking of whisky, with two friends in tow. Slamming the door shut behind them, he had announced in front of his mates that it was time to 'make me a woman' as he had been patient enough until now. I had tried to hide but, small as I was, there was nowhere to go and I found myself pinned to the dirty mattress as his hands pushed up my dress, trying to reach my underwear. Eventually, he called over his friend, Stefan, who held me down so that my clothes could easily be removed, exposing my virgin body to their leering stares.
I was shaking with fear, having little to no idea what to expect. As James undressed in front of me, I averted my eyes in shame until he grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him and the part of him that was hard and angry looking. I started sobbing as he told me that it was my job to make daddy feel good, and little girls should always do what their daddy told them to. With that, he pinned me to the mattress and forced himself into me, tearing me apart and grunting like a pig as he hurt me over and over, his hand over my mouth to silence my screams of pain. He wasn't remotely affected by the tears pouring down my face onto the mattress, or my muffled cries beneath his hand.
However, when he was done I realised just how bad this was going to be, as first Stefan, and then Laurent proceeded to rape me. When they had done with me, James announced I was now a woman, properly broken in for service and that I was to be ready for him, day or night, at his whim. As his eyes took in my abused body, I heard him comment to the others that my tits were a disappointment. They then left the apartment, guffawing loudly, leaving me shaking and bleeding and wanting to die.
As time progressed, the rapes were frequent and the men interchangeable. I discovered that I was a commodity, used in exchange for everything from drugs to general favours. If James needed something from some lowlife, he would offer me as part of the deal. They eagerly accepted every time, my small, childlike body appealing to them in a frightening way.
More than once I tried to escape, to get away from the abuse, but always when he found me I was beaten until I was too damaged to walk or even stand. Never enough to need a doctor, but always enough to incapacitate.
My last unsuccessful attempt had been so close that I really thought I had made it. I had hitched a ride south and hidden out in a small backwater town, biding my time and earning an honest dollar as a waitress. With a small amount of money saved I had bought my first, old, third hand if it was a day, SLR camera, and so began my obsession with photography. I practised whenever I could, gaining confidence and garnering praise from my new friends. I even made a few dollars taking portraits of the local children.
James finally found me, dragging me back to hell once again. He laughed off my attempts at fighting him, telling me that I was worthless, that I would never amount to anything and that I should forget trying to be something I wasn't. To punctuate his point, my camera was smashed on the ground, and I felt like my last shred of hope for the future had been destroyed along with it.
This time the beating was worse.
This time I needed a doctor.
What I got was a failed medical student whose chosen career path had u-turned from medic to coke addict. To his credit, he had found the one subject at which he was a truly exceptional student.
However, he managed to diagnose internal trauma and possibly permanent damage; the only treatment I received, however, was morphine for the pain. I heard him whisper to James that I may never be able to have children now; the beatings that James had administered had been concentrated on my abdomen, and in his opinion, something had ruptured in there that was causing me to bleed outside of my cycle. James seemed unconcerned, simply telling him to patch me up.
As I drifted into morphine-induced unconsciousness, my only thought was that at least I would never have to carry the child of a psychopath.
I woke, screaming in pain.
Another dose of morphine.
Blackness.
I lost all track of time.
~xxXxx~
When the day finally arrived that I was able to move without drugs, I woke to find an empty apartment. Sliding from the stinking mattress, I tested my legs and my balance. Shaky, but no nausea or dizziness, despite my not eating for ... how long had it been? Feeling a pull, I looked down to see a tube leading from my arm to a bag hung above the bed.
So at least someone cared enough to keep me alive.
I carefully unplugged the bag and hissed as the needle slid free from my vein. I pressed hard, hoping the bleeding would stop soon as the sight of blood turned my stomach.
Making my way slowly to the bathroom, I raised my dress and looked at my belly in the small, rust speckled mirror over the basin. I cried out in shock when I saw the colours painted across my skin, the knuckle marks clearly outlined in vivid shades of black, purple and red.
As the tears slid down my cheeks I knew I had to escape or die trying.
I owned nothing, and empty handed I opened the door, checking the hallway for signs of life. For signs of them. Hearing nothing, I crept out and closed the door, keeping to the shadows against the far wall as I made my way toward the stairwell. Feeling the blood pound in my ears, I slunk down the stairs, trying to keep my footfalls as silent as possible. When the door came into sight my fear ratcheted up a notch, convinced that he would appear at any moment. But no – the way out was clear.
This time I didn't run.
This time I went to the police.
~xxXxx~
The police doctor was kind and tried her best to be gentle, but the internal injuries were still raw enough to make me scream out when she took a look inside with her instruments. My belly was photographed, my bruises and welts measured precisely before I was taken to hospital for surgery to repair the injuries I had sustained.
The doctors confirmed what the junkie medic had suspected. It was unlikely I would ever fall pregnant; my body had suffered extreme trauma, and only time would tell if it could ever fully recover.
Whilst in the hospital I met a girl who was a volunteer, helping to cheer up the long-term patients. Her name was Bella. She was very popular, and I would see the faces of the older patients light up when she walked into the wards, a smile and a word for everyone. Being the same age we bonded easily, she become my very first friend; someone who gave me far more than she ever took.
She stayed with me when the police came to discuss my future. It was decided that I be relocated while the search continued for James and his henchmen, and also that I would change my name.
Gone was Mary Alice Cullen, the innocent young girl from Sunnyside Children's Home. Now I was Alice Brandon, my new surname chosen from my favourite TV show while I was growing up in the Home.
With Bella's help, I found a job and somewhere to live. My first home of my own was a room in a small boarding house, run by a lovely old lady who treated me like her own. In time, I bought another camera, a better one than before, and eventually, my natural talent snared me an assignment for an advertising campaign.
That assignment led me to Emmett.
~xxXxx~
Feeling green again, I ran for the bathroom, barely making it in time.
After cleaning myself up I rang Bella and asked her to come with me to the doctor. I still feared bad news whenever anyone in a white coat approached me, and I badly needed her unrelenting support.
However, when the doctor finished checking me over, her words didn't sink in.
"I'm ... what?"
"You're pregnant, Miss Brandon." Looking at my face, she added, "I take it this pregnancy wasn't planned?"
"If you look at her notes, doctor, I think you'll see that this event was about as likely as finding daffodils growing on the moon."
I could always rely on Bella.
Pregnant. I'm pregnant. Oh, Emmett! We're having a baby!
The doctor went through her procedures, sorting out dates and antenatal care, and all I could see was the elation in Emmett's beautiful eyes when I finally got to tell him he was going to be a daddy.
Soon... let it be soon.
Bella and I started preparing for the baby, buying whatever little bits and pieces my salary and commissions allowed. Our excitement continued unabated as time passed, and my belly blossomed. More than once I wanted to contact Emmett, but I knew in my heart that he would want to come and get me, to protect and care for me, and that was something I just couldn't risk. What James didn't know about, he couldn't destroy – not while he was still out there, god knows where.
At night I dreamed of Emmett, feeling his lips on mine and his arms around me. By day I talked to his photo, telling him my plans and how much I missed him every single day. I told him how proud he was going to be when he saw the new life we had created, and that I longed for the day when we could be a proper family.
The scan showed a boy, and I immediately knew that he would be Dale, in honour of his uncle.
It was a few weeks later, and the weather was getting warmer. I made my slow ascent to my room, my burgeoning belly now heavy and round, filling my loose shirt. As I reached my room I saw the door was ajar – perhaps Bella was here. But once inside I noticed immediately that it wasn't Bella who had been here.
My picture of Emmett was gone.
~xxXxx~
James' POV
"I found her."
Stefan walked in, a triumphant leer on his face.
"There's more. She's pregnant - nearly due, I reckon. Oh, and I found this."
He handed me a large photograph of a blond guy, smiling, not quite looking into the camera. My hands clenched into fists. Was this him? The one who dared touch my property? He would pay, and she would be dragged back to where she belonged to be taught a valuable life lesson.
As for the kid ... that was a minor inconvenience that could be turned to my advantage. In fact, I bet there were hundreds of rich couples looking for a baby, no questions asked.
I smiled. All's well that ends well.
"Tell me where she is."
~xxXxx~
Searching the cramped apartment, I found magazine clippings tucked inside a framed photo of her baby scan. They featured photos by someone called Alice Brandon.
"So that's your name now." I pocketed the clippings and left quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping occupant of the downstairs room.
After a little bit of searching the internet provided me with details of the publications used and the companies that had hired her for the shoots. The locations were all listed. None looked familiar and so I made a list, deciding to check them out one by one.
The third place I tried was a sleepy little coastal town, total Hicksville, but with a beach that was a surfer's paradise. The place was heaving with surfers, all in half zipped wetsuits, with sun-streaked hair. It appeared I had arrived in the middle of their annual one day surf event, judging by all the banners and posters. Parking the jeep on an empty bit of road, Stefan and I walked down to the beach to get a look at the action and check out the locals. We stood watching the competitors do battle with the waves and each other until Stefan suddenly stiffened, and pointed across the sand.
"Check out the lifeguard."
Checking the photo, I nodded, a smile curving my lips.
"Now we wait."
We walked over to a diner and ordered coffee, making casual chit-chat with the locals who were only too happy to talk about their town. They were friendly, and it turned out they were all fans of 'the big guy'.
"His wife must get sick of all the females throwing themselves at him," I joked.
One of the guys from the Surf Shack laughed, shaking his head.
"No wife. But he's taken alright. Ever since he met a girl a few months back, she's been all he thinks about. The others don't stand a chance. He's just waiting for her to come back; misses her like crazy. That guy's got a heart as big as the ocean and it's all hers."
Stefan smiled. I was elated.
Not long now.
The next morning, with the prizes awarded and the tournament over for another year, the participants melted away like ice in the face of an apocalypse. The beach was clear, the surf undisturbed. Dressed like a tourist I walked around the small cluster of shops, casually listening and watching, until the big guy appeared, calling out to the Surf Shack owner as he jumped out of his jeep.
Picking up a package for him. What a boy scout.
We waited for him to drive by on his way back from the nearby town, and then we flagged him down. He jumped out, all muscles and an easy grin.
"Hey, boys! Trouble?"
You have NO idea.
"Yeah, she won't start. Any chance of a jump?"
"Sure. I'll get my leads - shouldn't take much to get the old girl firing again. These babies are hard to kill; I know I wouldn't trade mine for anything else. Wranglers are the best ride around!" He slapped his door affectionately, turning to the back of his jeep.
My teeth clenched at his choice of words.
"How about instead we just take yours?"
He looked at us, confusion passing over his face before he shifted uneasily.
"Don't worry; I'll get you on your way in no time."
I smiled, silently stepping forward.
"I don't think you understand. How about I explain it a little better?"
I threw the punch before the big lug could even contemplate moving, and he went down hard. He was back on his feet in seconds, blood pouring from his nose.
"What the fuck?"
Stefan was there in a flash, a length of pipe in his hands.
"He said, give us your wheels, pretty boy."
He went to swing the pipe, but the big guy got in first, slamming his fist up under Stefan's jaw, sending him sprawling. I saw his fist flex, ready for the next punch as he turned to me.
"What the fuck is your problem, dude? I try to help and you mug me for my wheels? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I'll tell you what's wrong, you fucking idiot. You took something that belongs to me. I don't appreciate someone playing with my toys - it makes me a little crazy. And crazy people have no self-control; so really all of this is your fault when you think about it."
I felt Stefan hand me the pipe and I wielded it, slapping it into my open palm. "I don't want your wheels, I want you on your knees, apologising to me. Think you can do that?"
He shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes from mine.
"I don't know you, and I sure as hell don't have anything of yours. I think you made a mistake here. And if you want a guy on his knees in front of you, I suggest trying your boy there – looks like he might be game."
Something in me snapped. I lunged for him, swinging the pipe round in a wide arc. When it crashed into his shoulder, he howled out in pain, and I took advantage of his weakness to smash the pipe into his thigh, knocking him to his knees. I thought he was down for good, but he clambered back to his feet, his good arm throwing a punch that connected with the side of my head, sending me reeling.
Stefan was up on his feet, blood on his lips where he had bitten his tongue. He tried to pin the guy so I could hit him again, but it was like caging a wild bear. He was immensely strong, even injured as he was, and he landed punishing punches to Stefan's abdomen and groin before I regained my wits and dragged him off.
Turning swiftly, he grabbed me, pinning me to the jeep by my throat. I could feel my windpipe being slowly crushed as he stared me right in the eye, shaking with the effort. Just when I thought I would suffocate, the pipe whistled through the air behind him, connecting with the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground, releasing me as he fell.
I rubbed my throat, gulping in air, approaching him with caution. His face was bruising rapidly from the earlier punch, but he was still breathing. As I leaned over him, the pipe now resting comfortably in my hand, I heard him mutter, "Alice..."
When I hit him one final time, I made sure he would never bother anyone ever again.
Climbing into the jeep, I found the keys still in the ignition.
Before driving away, I leaned out the door and spat on his broken, bloodied body.
"Goodbye, fucker."
~xxXxx~
Alice's POV
I gasped, holding my belly as the pains started.
No, he can't have found me. He can't have.
Terror washed over me at the thought of him so close and me so defenceless in my present condition.
Cramps hit me in another wave, and I gripped the bannister hard as I shouted down the stairs to Mrs Landry to call 911. Bella arrived at the same time as the paramedics, and I told her through gritted teeth that James was here, that I was no longer safe. I heard her on the phone to the police before running to the ambulance to ride with me.
Compared to the beatings, birth was almost easy. I used the gas and air and panted when they told me to; Bella gripped my hand tight, urging me on.
When the time came to push my body almost couldn't cope, but strength came to me as I pictured Emmett standing over me, telling me I could do anything – that I was strong.
Dale Brandon McCarty was born after a remarkably short labour; squalling as he greeted the outside world for the first time. I counted ten fingers and ten toes, kissing his nose and gazing in wonder at the perfect little life Emmett and I had created.
After an overnight stay for observation I was released, and following advice from the police, I didn't return to my little apartment, moving in with Bella instead. She truly was a wonder; during my brief stay in the hospital she had been to the boarding house and retrieved all of my meagre belongings, including Dale's crib and the baby supplies we had accumulated. The police had spoken to Mrs Landry, assuring her that they would keep watch on the place until they were sure that the men would no longer be a threat to her. I was incredibly grateful to them as the old lady had been nothing but supportive to me.
Time sped by and we watched as Dale grew into a beautiful, blue-eyed, miniature copy of his daddy. My boy was going to be a heartbreaker, no doubt about that. We still looked over our shoulders every time we left home and tried to stay together as much as possible for Dale's safety as much as my own.
Finally, on a cold February afternoon, the police came and delivered the news we had been waiting for. James and the others had been picked up after a bar brawl got out of hand in the city, and were now languishing in police custody after being identified as my abusers.
Their luck had finally run out. The nightmare was almost over.
At the court hearing, the judge was shown pictures of my injuries and the measurements of the punches on my belly that matched James' fists. My internal injuries were determined as being as a result of repeated beatings and assault. The defence had a very weak case, suggesting that I was mentally disturbed and that I had self-harmed after my boyfriend finished with me.
When both the police and the E.R. doctors took the stand, they quashed that argument almost immediately. In fact, the E.R. doctor stated that the fact that I had conceived and carried a baby to term was, by no other definition, a miracle. Meeting my eyes across the courtroom, he called me 'a remarkable young lady who, despite her ordeal, has overcome it all to become a mother and a career woman'.
When the judge handed down his verdict on the trio, I cheered inwardly. James got a far more substantial sentence than Stefan, whereas Laurent got off lightly with a substantial fine and community service to occupy many, many hours to come.
As James and Stefan were led away, James turned to me and smirked. I was startled by his expression, expecting fury. My mind tried to comprehend the meaning behind it, but I was at a loss as to his reasons.
As I left the court I was caught up in a hug, as Bella ran to me. I wept with joy as I breathlessly told her of the verdict and the sentencing.
"It's over, Bella. It's really over. Now I can finally go back and find Emmett again. I hope he still wants me," I said, my voice shaking, "because he's all I can think about."
Bella smiled, reassuringly. "From what you've told me about him, sweetheart, he'll have been counting the days. When do we leave?"
I couldn't control the smile as it crept over my face, like the sun finally emerging from clouds. Emmett and I belonged together; we had both known it when we parted and I couldn't wait to finally be with him.
Lifting Dale out of his car seat, I swung him around, smothering his precious face in kisses as he giggled at my enthusiasm, his big, blue eyes wide with interest.
"We're going on a trip, sweetheart. And when we get there we're going to be a proper little family. And no one will ever keep us apart again."
I lifted him into the air, enjoying his squeals of joy.
"It's gonna be you, me and Daddy – forever and ever."
~xxXxx~