Wow! The response from last chapter blew me away! Thank you so much to everyone that read, reviewed or added me to their alert list! Huge thank you Jessypt for recommending this story and to her readers for giving it a chance. Thanks to my readers of A New Normal for giving Fuggiasco a try!
My Beta's
I have to say thank you to Whatobsession17 for holding my hand through all of this and giving me awesome tips along the way!
Kimmcarr for trying to cure me of my comma allergy and "that" obsession ;)
Jessypt for her awesome ideas on how to expand each part of this story.
I would be lost without you awesome ladies, thank you so much for your time, support and for catching all of my grammar flubs! 3
The Portland Rescue Mission is a real place in Portland that does awesome outreach to the local people in need. I am somewhat familiar with the Mission, but have made my own policies and what not to fit this work of fiction.
Warning!
This story contains subject matter which may be offensive to some readers. I will try to post a warning before each chapter if I feel there is a need, but the story in general deals with mature themes.
This whole world is cold and ugly
What we are is low and lovely
I am the most beautiful boogie man
The most beautiful boogie man
Let me be your favorite nightmare
Close your eyes and i'll be right there
-Mos Def
EPOV
"Man, what the fuck happened to your face?" Jake asks as I walk up to the mission. I'm hoping to at least get breakfast.
"Nothing. Not compared to what'll happen when they all gang up on me," I reply.
"Eric?" he asks.
I laugh at him. "No, you think that douche could do this to me?" Eric's just another kid out here. He's about seventeen, I would guess. He hasn't been in Portland long, and thinks he can fight his way through anything.
"No, uh... I got into it with Demetri and Felix," I say quietly.
"What the fuck were you thinking? Those guys have a whole gang that's gonna come after our asses now!" Out of everything he said, all I heard was "our asses," not "your ass". See like I said, Jake's a good friend; there aren't many of those out here. Still though, his screaming isn't helping the jackhammer going off in my head.
"Seriously Edward, what could have been important enough to get involved with them?"
He's pissed, and I don't blame him. You don't want to piss off the wrong people out here. Jake and I usually try to fly under the radar. People know who we are, but we keep to ourselves. If you're not a threat to anyone, people leave you alone for the most part. I kept Demetri and Felix from getting what they wanted last night, so they will now perceive me as a threat to them.
"I know," I sigh in frustration, grabbing a handful of my still nasty hair. "I was just trying to get some sleep last night," I pause. "Where have you been anyway?" Not that Jake and I hang out every night, but he's been MIA for over a week now. He shrugs, making it clear to me that he doesn't know where he's been, which means Sam has been out to play. I let it go, not wanting him to feel bad over what he can't control.
"Anyway, I was trying to sleep, and they were stealing this girl's bag-"
"So what! What do you care!" he cuts me off.
"Well fucker, you didn't let me finish. They were stealing her bag, and I was walking away 'cause I didn't care," I say pointedly. "But then they tried to... rape her." I don't need to say anymore. Jake goes stiff. We share very little of our personal stories, but one thing I do know is that the only person that ever loved Jake and tried to help him was his sister, Rachel. She was raped and murdered when Jake was fifteen.
"They didn't do it, did they?" he asks. I shake my head and let him know that I stopped it before it could get that far.
"Ok, well good then." That's all he says then he walks toward the entry of the mission. I feel like shit for bringing up a sore subject and follow him in.
The mission is packed with bodies. They separate the men from the women and children here, for good reason. Women aren't safe on the street from attacks that happen, like last night. If women are out here long enough they learn to start charging for what will be taken from them anyway. If you ask me, it's the sickest part of life on the street.
"Edward, you haven't been in here in days." When I turn to face the person saying my name she stops in her tracks. Her breath catches in her throat. "Oh poor dear, what in heaven's name happened to you?"
It's Miss Elizabeth. She's an older woman who has volunteered here forever; I've known her since I was twelve. She has the smallest frame, not even shoulder height to me, and looks very weak, "Mother Teresa like", but don't let that fool you. I've seen her put the roughest men on the street in their place.
"Uh, you know," I shrug. She doesn't expect an answer; she never gets one.
"C'mon, you are a filthy mess," she says, grabbing my arm in one hand, holding her nose with the other dramatically. I chuckle at her antics, but wince at the pain that shoots through my arm; it's bruised from the fight. She drags me to the back, to the employee only section. When the rest of the volunteers start shouting at her that I can't be back there she turns and flips them the bird. See, Miss Elizabeth does what she wants. She takes me back to the food prep area; it looks like a bomb hit it.
"Sit," she commands, pointing to a stool, and I do. "You missed breakfast by an hour, we had a rush this morning and were out like that," she says with a snap of her fingers. She reaches into the fridge and pulls out a little lunch bag and hands it to me. I shake my head. She knows I won't take her personal food. Since I have been homeless, I have never begged; my pride won't let me.
"The hell you won't! You go missing for days, worry a lil' old lady to death, and then refuse her request? I don't think so mister." I suppress a grin, and shyly take the bag. She's one hard old bird to turn down. In the bag there's a huge sandwich, an apple and chips. My stomach growls at the sight of it.
"Thank you," I say softly. She just nods and makes herself busy, knowing I don't want to be watched while I eat. I inhale the food, barely tasting it I'm so hungry. Miss Elizabeth walks back up to me, throwing an apron at me. It's yellow, with red and green apples on it. Next she tosses a pair of blue doctor scrub pants my way. I look at her, quirking an eyebrow.
"Oh knock that off; you are in no position to be picky young man. Put those on. I'll clean your clothes, even though they should be burned." I laugh a real laugh. Miss Elizabeth is the grandma that everyone wants but no one is lucky enough to get. She turns away, and I strip down and put the ridiculous outfit on. I feel like a cheap porn star with my nipples sticking out of the sides of the apron.
"Ok, done," I say, letting her know she can turn around.
"My heavens boy, hide those little peckers," she says with a laugh, trying to stretch the apron to cover my exposed nipples. I can feel myself blushing.
"I will just be down the hall doing the wash; you get busy on this room," she says, handing me a broom that has definitely seen better days. I grab the broom and get to work immediately, grateful for her help.
She leaves the room and I get busy. The space is trashed. It's a narrow, long room with sinks on one side, a long counter on the other. After sweeping the floor, I get to work on the counters. My whole body aches as I work. I have yet to look at the damage done from the fight, but my ribs scream in protest with every move I make. Without the barrier of my clothing I can smell the stench coming off of me. This is when I feel my lowest, when I can't even bathe. You can hide being hungry and poor, but you can't hide being dirty. I need an ego boost wherever I can get it, so I work extra hard on the room wanting to impress Miss E. I don't even know why, but I just wanted her to know that I'm not a fuck up and can do a good job.
About twenty minutes later Miss Elizabeth comes back in and gasps. I turn quickly thinking something is wrong.
"Oh my, you work fast! You saved these old bones from hours of clean up," she says with a big smile. I get a surge of pride from my job well done.
"Your clothes are in the dryer. Go jump in the showers and clean up; they should be ready when you're out."
"Thanks," I say. She nods giving me a warm smile, squeezing my arm as I walk out. I know she knows that I am thanking her for more than lunch and the clean clothes. It's not often that someone shows a person like me true kindness, and I truly appreciate her.
I go into the community bathroom. I ignore the few lingerers in there from the night before; we'll all be kicked out soon. The Mission is for emergency needs, not a hang out. I look in the mirror, it being the first one I've seen in days. I'm appalled by my own reflection. I look like I've been living with farm animals. Dirt and dried blood caked everywhere, even in my ears. My face looks like shit. Tweedledee and Tweedledum sure as hell did a number on me. My right eye is half swollen shut, my lip is split and the whole right side of my face is bruised. I untie the apron and see that my chest and back match my face with black and blue marks all over. I fold and put my snazzy outfit on the counter and climb in the stall. The water isn't hot, but it's warm. Fuck, I feel so gross; at this point I would take a shower in ice water if I had to.
The warm water feels so nice on my aching body. I milk the shower as long as I can, not knowing when I'll get another. Hearing no more voices in the room I decide to take care of another need that hasn't been attended to in a while. I grab my shaft thinking of anything I can for inspiration. Every time I get the perfect tits in my mind's eye, they disappear, and I see the drunk bitch from last night, causing me to lose my hard on immediately. I have to be honest with myself. I lose it because for one, I really don't think she was drunk at all. I think she was in need of help that no one was willing to offer. Two, the situation is nothing to be turned on by. Anyone who wants to violate a woman is a sick fuck; that's one thing I learned in my first twelve years of civilization. After five attempts, I give up. I'm grateful to be clean and climb out. I choose not to take one of the old towels knowing that Miss Elizabeth will be the one to have to clean it. I don't want her to have to do more work on my account.
I shake off like a fucking dog the best I can before using the apron to dry me fully. I slip the scrub pants on and walk out to find Miss Elizabeth, not bothering with the apron. It hides nothing anyway. When I round the corner I come in contact with something that slams against my chest.
"Mother fucker!" I scream, pain radiating through my whole body.
"Oh my god, I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm so sorry, are you ok?"
I know that voice. I look down and see none other than the drunk- ok I guess not drunk- princess, still in the same outfit from last night, still beat up.
"You," I seethe. My anger is irrational. It's not her fault she was attacked, but I'm pissed that my face is too beat to shit for anyone to want to hire me. Her big brown eyes are pleading for me to understand, to not be angry with her. I take a good look at her. She's too thin, dirty and bruised. Most will assume she's homeless, but I know better. Her clothes are dirty, but still very high quality, as was the bag she was carrying last night. Her hair is a mess, but I can still tell that it's been well taken care of until recently. She's so pale, and her hair is almost black it's so dark. She has a beauty about her. I push all of this aside, when I remember the beating I went through because of her.
"Oh my god, it's you. Oh no, you got hurt," she says softly. I lift my arm to lean against the wall, and she recoils, bringing a hand up to protect her face. She blushes red through her bruises when she realizes what she just did. A rush of anger flows through me when I think of the possibilities of how those bruises could have gotten there. Once again I convince myself that I don't care how they got there.
"Well thank god you're here to point out the obvious," I say rudely.
"I understand that you're mad, but thank you... for what you did." She doesn't deserve my hostility, but I can't help it.
"Yeah, a lot of good it did me." I decide that I don't give a fuck what her story is. I just want my damn clothes so I can get away. I don't want to worry about someone other than myself, and I haven't in years.
Right when I go to step around her one of the male shelter workers comes around the corner. "I told you, you can't be here; you missed the food. This is the men's side anyway. Leave. Come back tomorrow and try again."
She shrinks and just nods. Tears spring in her eyes. She wraps her arms around her chest. She looks like she is holding herself together, like she may crumble at any moment. I see her exit the building, the light from outside bursting in the room when the door is opened and disappearing when it closes.
"You, get dressed and head out too." I just nod. I know I'm here past morning hours. I find Miss Elizabeth in the prep room neatly folding my clothing for me. I feel guilt speed through my veins. Someone is showing me kindness even when I chose not to show it to someone who so obviously could have used some.
"My goodness, Edward," she gasps when she sees the extent of the injuries on my chest and back. Embarrassed I quickly put my shirt on and then my jacket, they smell like fucking heaven and sunshine. I will never take clean clothes for granted. I notice that she also sewed the holes that were in the seams of my shirt. I head back to the bathroom with the little pack of deodorant, shaver, toothbrush and toothpaste that she gave me to finish getting ready. When I go back to thank her one last time, she's holding another paper bag out to me.
"No Miss E, you've done more than enough." I refuse to take advantage of her kindness.
"Take it, and if you don't want it, give it to someone who does," she insists. Once again the guilt of not being kind flows freely. I can't argue with her, I take the bag.
When I make it a block down the street heading back to the river, I feel someone following me. I turn and see "the princess" behind me. She thinks I don't see her, so I continue on my way with her not far behind. I go to the same bench I was laying on last night and can just feel her hovering in the background.
"You can't just fucking follow me around like a goddamn lost puppy," I say, not even turning to face her. I hear her sharp intake of breath; she knows she's been caught. I remember then how shitty I felt when she left the shelter. I turn to face her.
"Do you love the view of the back of my head, or would you like to come have a seat?" I don't wait for her to answer. I turn my attention back to the river, but from the corner of my eye, I can see her slowly creeping my way; inch by inch like a scared kitten. After what seems like a century, she sits as far away from me as she can, half of her ass off the bench.
We sit in silence just watching the boats pass by. I decide to break the silence after a while.
"You're not from here," I state. I see her whole body stiffen. I turn to face her completely, and she's nervously looking over her shoulder.
"Yes, I am," she says barely above a whisper. There's no conviction in her voice.
"You're a terrible liar. No, you're not from here." She lets out a sigh but doesn't argue.
"So what's your deal?" I ask leaning forward on my knees, the quick movement causing her to jump and almost fall off the damn bench.
"Jumpy much?" I say. She just lets out a nervous laugh. Once again I feel the anger rising when I wonder why the fuck she is so jumpy. Silence ensues. She makes no effort to converse, just keeps looking over her shoulder. I just sit with her, actually enjoying the silent company.
"Are you hungry?" At the word hungry her head snaps up. She doesn't answer.
"Here," I say pushing the bag towards her, slowly, not wanting to scare her again.
"No, I can't, you've done so much already," she says while wringing her hands in her lap. Her stomach growls, loudly, giving her away. I look at her and we both laugh.
"Listen, when's the last time you ate?" I ask softly trying to take a different approach.
"Uh Sunday." Fuck, its Tuesday.
"Eat. I just ate at the shelter." She eyes me and there are questions dancing in her expression.
"Please." I add softly and give her my best smile. She hesitantly reaches for the bag, and smiles as she pulls the sandwich out. I give her the same respect that Miss Elizabeth gave me, and keep my eyes on the water. I let her eat in peace.
"Thank you, again," she says with a nervous laugh. She's done with her meal. I just smile at her, refusing to let myself say anything else nasty to her. For the next few hours she says nothing, nor do I. We sit gazing at the water, and every once in a while she looks over her shoulder. I decide sitting there that she really is beautiful; her features are soft, and she has kind eyes when they're not wild and scared. I force myself to turn away from her. I don't want to be caught staring, even though she's doing the same thing in my direction. When the sun starts to set and the rain starts up, I decide to find shelter not wanting my clean clothes to get soaked.
"Well good luck," I say standing up. She's startled.
"Oh... uh... you too... Thanks again." There's so much sadness in her voice. I hesitate for a moment then walk away, deciding she isn't my responsibility, and she'll be fine on her own. I walk away not even knowing her name; trying to convince myself that I don't care.
I go about a mile from the river to where I commonly sleep when it rains. It's two old buildings so close together that their roofs are almost touching, and it keeps the rainfall out. I am surprised it isn't crowded. The cops must have done a recent raid. I get comfortable placing my new deodorant and toothbrush in my front pocket with my hand on them; so I'll feel if anyone tries to take them while I'm sleeping. I doze off quickly, exhausted from the night before. I'm not asleep for more than five minutes when I hear soft crying.
"This is not happening," I moan to myself, gently pounding my head on the wall that I am leaning against.
I stand, not able to ignore it, and look for the owner of the tears. Big shock, Princes- fuck, I need to find a new name for her. After spending the afternoon with her, whoever she is, I can't call her that anymore. She's sitting outside of the ally, her knees curled up to her chest; she's soaked and softly crying into them. I touch her shoulder softly, and she screams at the top of her mother fucking lungs.
"Jesus Christ! Do you want the cops to think I'm doing something to you! Fuck!"
"Oh god! I'm sorry! You scared me," she says standing up, wiping her face, and looking like a drowned, skittish kitten.
"Yeah, well it's not fucking hard to do." She doesn't disagree with me, just hangs her head. I'm getting wet so I step back into my dry haven.
"C'mon!" I shout in her direction. Later, rather than sooner, she shyly turns the corner and comes dripping in. She slides down the wall and resumes her position of hugging her knees; she's shivering. Shit. She's gonna be so fucking sick if she sleeps in wet clothes in this northwest weather. I was raised as a gentleman, until I was twelve, so I can't help what I do next.
"Take your shirt off," I say walking towards her. Her eyes go wide, she starts to whimper crawling up the wall backwards, I replay my words back to myself, and realize the mistake I made. I quickly step away from her.
"For fuck's sake, I didn't mean it like that. You can't sleep in wet clothing. Calm down; I'm not gonna hurt you. Fuck, I'm not even gonna come near you. I'll toss you my coat, and turn around, change into it, and let me know when it's safe to turn back." She doesn't respond, but sits her ass back down on the pavement. I slowly take my coat off and toss it to her. She sits like a wet noodle and lets it hit her in the face. I chuckle and she shoots me a playful scowl. Wow maybe she does have a personality. I turn to face the wall. I can hear her rustling behind me; after a few minutes, I hear her softly tell me that it's safe to turn around.
I turn and see something that I'm not expecting to. She's wearing nothing but my fucking coat; instant boner. She's squirming under my gaze so I quickly look away. The coat goes to her mid thigh so it's not like she's showing much, it's just a surprising sight. Her creamy long legs- fuck, I have to stop thinking like this about her. She's obviously the last girl that is looking for that kind of attention. I walk towards her, and she instantly panics again. I decide that it's best to tell her everything I do before I do it.
"Calm down. I'm gonna walk over, get your clothes, and hang them on the stairs to dry," I say pointing to the fire escape on one of the buildings. She nods, and I move forward. I get her clothing all gathered up and go to hang them. They are fucking sopping wet and will probably not be all the way dry by the morning. I turn and she's still standing by the entrance of the alley. She's holding her middle again as if she may fall apart.
"I'm gonna sit down right here to sleep." I point to a spot toward the back of the alley. "It would be best for you to sit on this side of me." I say pointing to the back wall where she would be between me and the wall; not giving her an easy escape. "That way if someone comes in, they won't mess with you, I'll hear them. Plus the wind isn't as bad back here." She eyes me for a long while. I assume she is trying to decide if I am tricking her or not. I decide to just sit down and let her take as long as she wants to choose where she wants to sleep. Not too long after she walks over in my direction. She keeps her back pressed against the opposite wall to stay far away from me. Her sneakers making a sloshing sound with every step she takes. She makes it on the opposite side of me, and slides down the wall keeping as much space between us as she can. She tucks her legs up into my coat; stretching it the fuck out I'm sure. I let out a breath, I'm holding, glad to be able to settle down for the night.
After a while, I think she's asleep, that is until I hear her voice barely a whisper above the rain pounding overhead.
"Thank you... for everything. You didn't have to help me, but you have." I turn my head to her. I see silent tears stream down her face. What the fuck happened to this broken girl?
"What's your name?" I ask. She looks shocked by my simple question. I decide to go first. "My name is Edward, Edward Masen."
"Uh I'm Jes... Jessica." She looks around nervously. She zeroes in on an old "Swans Food" delivery box abandoned in the alley. "Jessica Swan."
"Well, Jessica Swan, you are one shitty liar," I say with a laugh. Her lie is so absurd that she laughs with me. I like the sound of her laugh, and she looks beautiful having that scared mask she wears gone for a moment; so I try again.
"Jessica Swan," I say appraisingly. "You're not related to a Jessica Rabbit by chance are you?"
She laughs, loud this time; the sound warms my now coatless body.
I start to fall asleep after our short conversation. Right before I pass out for the night, I hear her say, "Bella." I open my eyes and look at her. We make direct eye contact for the first time since she was begging me to save her.
"My name, it's Bella... still Swan for now though," she adds with a shy giggle. She closes her eyes, and I do the same. Right before I'm gone into a dreamless bliss I say groggily, "I won't hurt you Bella."
I hope you all like it! Edward's and Bella's past will come out, but it will take some time :)
Please leave me some love and let me know what you think!
See you next Monday :)