The following chapter is dedicated in loving memory to the Newman family. If any of you are in anyway religious, I would greatly appreciate it if you kept them in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you.

Wake Me with My Name

"Bella, there are some people here to see you."

I looked up and saw one of the nurses letting four people into the room. I recognized the faces of Detective Manning, Detective Anderson, Mrs. Andrews and Dr. Levsky.

"Hey, Bella," greeted Detective Manning. The nurse left and closed the door behind her.

"Hello," I replied quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Anderson asked.

I shrugged.

"Are you all right? Did the doctors say what was wrong or anything?"

"They said I was fine and that they would discharge me later today."

"That's good."

I nodded.

The small talk was over. Detective Anderson crossed from the door to the couch I was sitting on very quickly and sat down beside me. "Bella, do you remember what the man looked like? The one who tried to run you over?"

I struggled to remember. It was so difficult to recognize him in the first place with his nondescript appearance and bland facial features. He was so terribly average that absolutely nothing about him registered as memorable in my mind.

"He looked like anyone else," I replied. "He was of average height and weight, I guess. And he had brown hair."

"Was it long or short?"

"Short."

"What about his eyes? Do you remember what color they were?"

I shook my head.

At that moment, the door opened and we all looked up to see who it was. Edward Cullen was standing in the doorframe, watching everyone in the room with a wary expression on his ridiculously beautiful face. My pulse quickened by his mere presence, which slightly annoyed me. "Hello," he greeted. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll just wait out here when you're finished."

"No, wait," I called to him. "Detective, Edward was the one who saved me. He saw the guy too. He might be able to give you a better description."

Detective Manning turned to him. "You saw him?"

Edward nodded. "I could draw a picture of him if you'd like. I have a photographic memory."

"That would help us out a lot," Anderson replied.

"Here, let's go somewhere else and we'll talk about what happened," Manning said as she gestured to the exit. I could tell that it was a not so subtle excuse to leave me alone with the lawyer and the shrink. I felt a faint strain of panic ripple through me.

When the detectives had left with Edward, Mrs. Anderson turned to face me with her maternal smile. "Well, Bella, I came today to give you a really great piece of news."

I raised my eyebrows.

"We've arrested Vickers again and we're going to convict him this time. I swear."

My eyebrows shot up my forehead in skepticism. She said that the last time, too.

"Bella…honey, we're going to try and convict him on rape."

My hands clenched tightly around the blankets that covered my legs. "No," I said immediately as I started beating the memories back.

"Bella, this is one of the strongest charges we have against him," she argued. "No jury in the world would dare keep him out of prison once they see what he did to you. Don't you want to see him behind bars? Your parents deserve justice, Bella. You deserve justice."

I looked up and stared straight into Mrs. Andrews' eyes. She must have seen something that made her uncomfortable because she flinched. "Can you convict him without my testimony?"

She sighed. "We…we have a lot of hard evidence," she reluctantly admitted, "but we really need you to testify against him."

"No." My denial was much louder now.

"Bella, I—"

"No!" I shouted. What was it that these people didn't understand? It wasn't something I wanted to talk about. Why couldn't they see that? I didn't want to remember these terrifying memories that I was forced to relive every time I fell asleep. Wasn't it enough that I was alive? Wasn't it enough that I survived? What more did they want from me? How long would I have to suffer for someone else's sins?

Dr. Levsky decided to cut in. "Bella, I think you should."

I turned my glare at him, but he did not flinch. He stared back at me with equal seriousness. "Of course you would, doctor," I spat. For some reason, anger and resentment would flare up within me whenever Dr. Levsky was around. His presence brought out the worst in me.

"Bella, the sooner you face this—"

"The sooner I can get over it," I finished for him. He abruptly closed his mouth and his lips curled in a weird sort of grimace. "That was what you were going to say, wasn't it? That's what you were telling me to do the last time you came for a visit."

"I should go," Mrs. Andrews said quickly before Dr. Levsky could retort. "But please, Bella, think about this. We can get Vickers behind bars, but we need your help to do it." Then she exited the room without a backward glance, hoping to escape the awkward argument that was bound to continue.

Sure enough, the moment she was out of earshot, Dr. Levsky started his crap. "Take me through it," he demanded with a hard look in his eye. "Take me through what happened, and I don't want to hear some garbage about not wanting to relive it."

I stubbornly crossed my arms across my chest and glared at him. "Forget it."

"Bella, it's one thing that your parents died, but—"

"Shut up!" I screamed. I wanted to lunge across the room at him, flail my helpless fists against him. I wanted to wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze as hard as I could. In that moment, I hated him so much for even talking about my parents. How dare he tell me to talk about what happened! How dare he presume for even a second that he had any idea, any clue as to how I was feeling!

"Bella!" he shouted. "Bella, listen to me! Listen to me! This is your one and only chance for justice! Are you going to let him do this again? Are you going to let him out on the streets to kill and rape again?"

That horrible, loathsome, four-letter word grated against my skin. I hated it with every fiber of my being; it seemed like such an inadequate word for what it represented.

"Tell me what happened," he said again, but more gently this time.

My shoulders shook with the sobs I struggled to restrain. "I can't," I gasped. The pain of the memories crashed against me, beating me with sharp echoes and deadly colors.

"Come on, Bella," he coaxed. "Tell me what happened to you."

"No," I refused again, but quietly this time. I rested my forehead on my knees and pressed the heels of my hands against my ears. I squeezed my eyelids shut, trying to escape the pain. It ripped at my lungs, tore at my muscles and sliced through my heart, cackling gleefully at my agony all the while.

"Take me through it," he persisted. "I can help."

No he couldn't. No one could help. I was on my own.

A tiny part of my brain registered the sound of a door opening. "What are you doing?" demanded a velvety voice I seemed to have memorized. "Who are you? What's wrong with Bella? What have you done to her?"

"I haven't done anything," explained Dr. Levsky. "I'm just trying to help her."

"If you were trying to help her then she wouldn't be curled up on a couch crying," the angel's voice growled. "Get out."

"But—"

"Out!"

I flinched at the menacing edge in that one word, but it worked. Without another sound of protest, the shrink swiftly walked out the door, closing it behind him. When the sound of his expensive shoes faded away, a soft voice slowly came closer. "Bella?" it whispered. "Bella, it's okay. He's gone."

No he wasn't. Even after three months, he was still there. He was still in my head, taunting me. He was lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce, waiting to take me again. And this time, there was no way I would escape alive.

"I—can't—Edward." The words ripped themselves from my lungs in short gasps. I was struggling to breathe and wipe away those wayward tears at the same time. If I had been looking properly, I would have been able to see Edward's tortured expression, but I was too focused on the visions I saw dancing in the blank wall behind him. Everywhere I turned, Alan was there, smiling good-naturedly at me. He stood with open arms, waiting to take me back and never let me go. The only part of him that hinted at his sinister nature was his pitch black irises.

"You can't what, Bella?" coaxed the beautiful creature before me.

"I—can't—do—this—anymore." The panic had blown the poorly patched hole in my chest wide open and I was struggling to close it again. But I was rapidly losing strength with the effort. "It—hurts—too—much. I—can't—keep—this—under—control."

"Bella," he said urgently as he crouched down before me. I hadn't realized how close he was until I felt his cold breath on my face. For some reason, this calmed me…the smell helped me breathe a little easier, at the very least. "Bella, listen to me. You can do this."

I closed my eyes and the tears squeezed out the corners, but Edward wasn't having that. "Bella, look at me. Look into my eyes."

I reluctantly opened my eyelids. His shining topaz orbs bore into me, burning with sincerity, managing to calm and soothe my terrified gasps in a way no paper bag could. Edward's eyes pulled me from the brink of complete and utter chaos, guiding me gently through the quagmire and bringing me back to sanity, to reason. I felt my heartbeat begin to ease its erratic pattern and the rest of my body calm down until the only proof that remained of my panic attack was my shaking fingers.

"Edward," I whispered. Even though my body had physically settled, my emotions were still raw, vulnerable. I was still incredibly breakable. "Edward, they want me to testify. They want me to testify against my parents' murderer."

"I know," he said gently. "I heard."

He didn't ask any questions, for which I was extremely grateful. So I just closed my eyes and leaned my head against the couch, waiting for the traces of adrenaline still running through my bloodstream to dissolve. It took me at least fifteen minutes before I was completely under control. When I opened my eyes again, he was still there.

I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. I had never broken down that completely in front of anyone, much less the most beautiful creature in the world. I looked up, expecting to see a sympathetic, pitiful expression in his handsome face, but I didn't find that. Instead his eyes shone with a protective light, ready to help me fight off my pain if I needed it.

Wanting to shake off my embarrassment, I tried to start a different conversation. "Shouldn't you be in school?" I asked.

He raised his eyebrows, but the corners of his lips twitched. "School ended two hours ago."

I glanced up at the clock. Sure enough, it read five thirty. Wasn't I supposed to leave by now?

"My father's coming," he told me, as if he were reading my mind. "He's going to perform one last examination and then you'll be free to go."

I nodded. "Thank you. For everything."

He understood.

Seconds later, the door opened again. "Miss Swan?" I looked up and saw the handsome Dr. Cullen standing in the doorframe with my chart and a smile. "I'm just going to perform one last examination and then you'll be free to go."

I turned my glance back to Edward and he grinned. Involuntarily, the corners of my mouth lifted in a small smile.

When Dr. Cullen had finished examining me, he signed off on the chart and said I could leave. "Do you want me to call your uncle?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to answer him, but I was cut off.

"I could take you home if you'd like," Edward offered. I thought I saw Dr. Cullen shoot his son a bewildered and suspicious glance, but he didn't say anything.

"I don't want to inconvenience you," I said softly.

He shook his head. "Not at all. I was going home after you left anyway."

I bit my lip. It actually made much more sense for Edward to drive me to the house than it did for Charlie to take the police cruiser all the way up to the hospital. "If you're sure," I said hesitantly.

Edward's lips curled up in a crooked smile, one that took my breath away with its beauty. "I'm sure," he said in a velvety smooth voice. Too dazzled by his angelic face to speak, I nodded and followed him out of the hospital.

When we were safely out of earshot of any meddling passersby, I asked the question that I wanted to ask the moment I had calmed down from my panic attack. "Do you really have a photographic memory?"

He chuckled warmly at my question. "Yes. It comes in quite handy when studying for big exams."

I paused. "So you were able to draw them a picture?"

He nodded, all traces of amusement gone from his face. "That man was especially easy to recall," he whispered. "The desire to rip his head off his shoulders was strong enough to ensure I would never forget him."

At this point we were already in the car, watching as the landscape sped past us at an alarming rate. Normally, I would have been terrified at how fast he was driving, but I was too preoccupied with his words. "Why were you so angry?" I asked quietly.

He turned to look at me with eyes so soft my heart almost broke at their beauty. "He almost killed you, Bella," he reminded me. "In fact, that was his purpose all along. He wanted you dead. Had he succeeded, I would not have hesitated to rip his head off his shoulders after all."

I shuddered. The memory of the chilling story he told immediately came to mind. "Edward, promise me you won't ever do that," I begged with feeling. "If he or someone like him manages to kill me, please don't seek revenge. It's not worth it." I very nearly said I'm not worth it, but I wasn't willing to face the look of indignation that would undoubtedly dominate his features.

His lips pressed in a thin line. "I'm not going to sit by and let your murderer go free to kill again."

The thought of Edward killing once again sent shivers down my spine. "Don't you see? At the end of all of this, what is there? Killing the man who killed my parents won't bring them back, and killing my soon to be murderer won't bring me back to life."

The look in his eyes softened, but there was an edge of darkness in the gentle waves of gold. "If you promise not to die, then revenge will never be necessary."

I sighed. Such a tall order.

Suddenly, we were stopped. Edward had parked the car so smoothly in front of Charlie's house that I hadn't realized we were there. Then he turned the full force of his topaz eyes on me and I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into quicksand of his stare. "Bella," he said with compassion in his voice, "the man who killed your parents didn't try to kill you, did he?"

My throat immediately tightened and my insides clenched, readying themselves for the inevitable pain.

"Did he?"

I worked around my suddenly swollen vocal chords to answer him. Of all the people left in my empty life, Edward was the one person who deserved to know the most. "No," I whispered, clenching my jeans tightly. "He didn't."

His voice was as light as a feather, sweet as a song. "What did he do?"

"Please don't ask me that," I begged. "Don't ask me that."

Desperation rang in every word and he respected that. So he just nodded and said, "Okay."

Maybe someday I would feel comfortable enough or in control enough to tell him what happened. But that day seemed far off and almost impossible at this point. And now that Alan Vickers knew where I was, it didn't look like that day was ever going to come before he found a way to kill me.

After a moment of heavy silence, I moved toward the door handle. "I should go. Thanks…for everything."

He nodded. "My father wants me to remind you that if you feel dizzy or nauseated at all, give him a call as soon as possible."

"I will."

He seemed to sense I was lying because he frowned. "And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me. I gave my number to Charlie the other day, so you can ask him for it."

"Thanks," I repeated. Then I opened my car door and stepped out. "Bye, Edward."

"Goodbye."

Charlie must have been warned ahead of time that I was heading back to the house because he was waiting in his armchair for me. When I walked through the door, he immediately stood up and walked to my side. "How do you feel today? Do you need help with anything?"

"I'm fine, Charlie." It seemed to be the only thing I ever said to him. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No. I was waiting for you to get home."

I nodded. "Would you like me to make something?"

He nodded a little sheepishly, and I couldn't help but smile a little at his embarrassed expression. "If you wouldn't mind."

A half hour later, we were sitting down to hamburgers and potato chips. I wasn't much of a burger person myself, but Charlie seemed to enjoy the meal, so I contented myself to eat it as well.

"I'll do the dishes tonight," Charlie said when we were finished. "You must be tired."

I was always tired, but I didn't argue with him. I just nodded and went upstairs with the vague idea of finishing some of the homework that was undoubtedly assigned while I was in the hospital. But it wasn't enough to claim my attention and when it was finally finished, my mind was free to wander, something I didn't want. And soon I was thinking about Mrs. Andrews' ambitions to convict my parents' murderer once more.

I shivered at the thought of having to take the witness stand. Mrs. Andrews saved me from having to do so before, but this time around I wouldn't be able to escape so easily. If I didn't take the witness stand of my own free will, Dr. Levsky was sure to drag me there, kicking and screaming if he had to. I would have to sit there in front of God and everyone and admit to something I still didn't want to believe. And the worst part was that I knew what would happen after I revealed the extent of my torture; the expensive lawyers Vickers had the luxury of hiring would make me doubt myself. They would rip my story apart hit by hit, bruise by bruise. They would trivialize the experience somehow to discredit me in front of the jury.

I could hear his laughing voice in my head. "I didn't do those things against your will, Bella," he murmured gently. "You wanted me to, remember? I only did what you wanted."

"No," I whispered. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I was giving you what you wanted."

"I didn't want it."

The smirk in his voice was evident to my mind's ear. "Yes you did. You screamed with joy. You loved it."

"No." But with every syllable the voice spoke, my will crumbled into the ocean of despair. I brought my knees up to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut to escape his throaty sentences.

"You loved it," he continued, tearing down my walls. "You loved it when I stroked your stomach and pulled your hair. You wanted more."

I looked around the room, desperately searching for something to stop his voice. I shakily uncurled my limbs and stood up. Unfortunately, my knees were too unsteady to properly support me and I collapsed to the ground. But I was desperate to make this stop, so I dragged myself on the ground, grasping for anything.

"I loved you, you know," his voice whispered tenderly. "You were so beautiful…so perfect. I thought that if I gave you what you wanted, you'd love me back."

No! I shouted. The shaking worsened and I started pulling out all the drawers in my desk. There was only one thing I was looking for—there was only one thing that would make this stop.

"You made me so happy most of the time," he said the moment my fingers wrapped around the blades of the scissors. "But sometimes, you'd make me so angry. If you had just listened to me, I never would have broken your bones."

I didn't bother going to the bathroom—there was no I way I could have stood up. So with my back against the base of my untouched bed, I rested my shaking forearm against my thigh.

"See?" his voice said in triumph. "You like pain. You wanted what I did to you."

"Bella," a suddenly new, completely desperate and velvety tone whispered. "Bella, don't do this."

Edward's voice was new. I'd heard Vickers' voice before, but never Edward's. The scissors stopped in midair, but it was still shaking from my unsteady nerves. "I have to," I breathed. "There's no other way. He won't—and I c-can't—"

"Bella." The husky voice that haunted my nightmares plagued me even in consciousness. "Come back to me. I'll love you better than anyone else. I promise."

"Bella," the angel urged quietly, "put the scissors down."

My eyes were squeezed shut and my hands were clenched over the handle of the scissors.

"We could have been happy. We could have been so happy, Bella. And if you come back to me, we will be happy. I'll make you so happy, Bella. I'll give you everything you could ever want. I love you."

"No, you don't," I sobbed. "You killed my parents. You killed my parents."

"You made me kill your parents." His voice was no longer gentle; in fact, it was fierce with anger. "You only have yourself to blame."

"Bella, please let go of the scissors." Edward's whisper pervaded my thoughts and broke through everything else. "Put them down."

"I can't—I can't! There's—and h-he won't—"

"Yes, you can," Edward whispered. "Put them down. Please, put them down."

It took all my strength, but I forced my fingers to release their hold on the scissors. They fell to the hard wood floor with a sound that shattered the illusion of Vickers' gruff voice, though his invisible hold on my mind still remained. I trembled violently and pressed my knees against my chest in an attempt to still my nerves.

"Oh, Bella," Edward's voice murmured. Then, without warning, I felt something cold and hard encircle my body, pressing me tightly to a soft fabric. I flinched violently, but the hold on me didn't waver. "It's going to be all right, Bella. I'll keep you safe."

The words were so sweet and so beautiful; I wanted to believe them. I wanted so badly for this wonderful illusion to be true, but I knew it wasn't. My imagination was so vivid lately that it was difficult to separate the delusions from the reality. But for the very first time, my imagination was comforting me instead of haunting me with terrifying memories. I cherished the fantasy as long as I could, and for the first time I let myself fall asleep in those arms.