Hey all, thank you for your patience. I have not abandoned this story, I promise. I am in the process of moving across the country and it's kind of a pain in the ass.

I own nothing Twilight.

Chapter 15 - Good Enough

The court room is nearly packed to capacity. I'd never anticipated that this many people would show up. Faces everywhere. My parents. My friends. People from school that have never said one word to me. Mrs. Gardner from across the street. This is the biggest thing to happen to Forks since. . .well, probably ever. This is one of the things I had been dreading, the attention.

I guess in Seattle I was in my own personal bubble, unaware of what was occurring in Forks. The rift that had formed between the pale faces and the Rez clan.

"You may be seated," Judge Stillman says, taking his own position at the head of the room.

Judge Stillman, who use to give me Dum Dums when I was younger and would spend my afternoons hanging around the police station watching my father work. Who watched me go through my awkward adolescent years, when I had braces and pimples. When my father made me stay the night in the only jail cell in Forks, because I had come home completely shitfaced after a party, to teach me a lesson. Who now watches, as I sit in the back of the courtroom, in my wheelchair, looking anywhere but at Jacob.

My mother sits next to me, her hand in mine. I think the shock of my agreeing to testify still hasn't worn off.

"I don't want to go in there," I said to Edward, from the passenger seat of his Volvo.

We were parked outside of my parents' house, it was just passed 8 a.m. We had stopped back at the rehab center so I could grab some things and let Rosalie know where I was going. She had sat on her bed, watching me. Watching us. Not saying one word. I think she felt betrayed, like I was leaving her behind to rot here for the rest of her life. She was angry. She was hurt.

"You've gotten this far," he replied softly.

I stared at the house, watching the first signs of life as the kitchen light went on. My mother was up now, starting the coffee, making breakfast. Edward sat beside me, silent, watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, trying to gauge what I was going to do. I turned to look at him, our eyes met. His unbelievably green ones, with my boring brown. It hurt to look at him, he was so beautiful. And now I saw him for what he really was: this kind, caring, wonderful boy who wanted to save me. Who wanted to protect me from the things that his mother became. I didn't deserve him.

"Hey," he smiled, as if reading my thoughts, "Don't think like that."

I looked away, shaking my head. Unable to fathom why he was doing this for me.

"What is so special about me, Edward?" I asked, not finding the strength to look him in the eye.

I think back to when we first met, the boy who was short with me and looked like he absolutely hated me to now, this boy next to me with gentleness in his eyes.

"Do you remember the night of Tanya's party?" he asked, his hands were still clutching the steering wheel.

"Yeah," how could I forget?

"When you left with him, I went back to the house. I was so angry with you, for just going off with him and accepting your fate. I needed a few minutes to calm down, before I went back to everyone else. So I walked upstairs and somehow ended up in Tanya's bedroom," he was staring ahead at the empty road before us, "There were pictures everywhere, of her with her parents, her with friends. You were in a lot of them."

I thought back to my Pre-Jacob days, when I actually hung out with people. The people I had grown up with.

"There was one of you, Tanya, Angela and Jessica at a pool. You guys were probably 7 or 8 in the picture. It was like looking at minature versions of who you all are now. Then another one of the four of you a few years later. You had this huge smile on your face, it was all braces and teeth. It looked like you had just told a joke and the other girls were laughing at you. Then one from some dance, Tanya and Jessica were hugging and you were in the background giving them bunny ears," I laughed at his words, remembering everything he described, "Then, as everyone got older, you started disappearing from the pictures. I saw you in one with Jacob, surrounded by a group of people at the diner. But you weren't that same girl, the one smiling and giving bunny ears. You were just there, as though you were just an observer watching everyone else live.

"The last one I saw of you was the four of you again, with everyone's arms around each other. But you were standing apart from the rest of them, hugging yourself. I thought maybe you were just cold, but when I looked closer, I saw you were actually trying to cover up a bruise on your arm. And I wondered if anyone else had noticed it, had observed you as I was doing, slowly withdrawing yourself. Becoming less and less of the person you once were. After that, you were gone from the pictures completely," he finally turned to look at me, "I saw the girl that you were. I didn't even have to meet you to know that you could light up an entire room just by entering it."

I blushed at his words, the sweet things he was saying. I had never had someone pay so much attention to me. Everyone had always been so busy with their own lives that I was literally dying right in front of them, yet no one ever noticed.

He reached over, his thumb sliding across my cheek to wipe away a tear I didn't realize I had shed. His touch burned my skin, but it didn't hurt like it did when Jacob touched me. Edward was leaving a mark, but this one was on my soul, not my skin. I reached up, my hand covering his. And I wondered if he felt it too, if my touch caused the same fire within him.

"Bella," he whispered, his eyes had lowered to my lips.

And I wanted so desperately to kiss him. To see if it would be better than Jacob's kisses. If maybe there did exist a guy out there who wanted to love me and not show that love by leaving bruises. I felt myself leaning closer to him, my eyes now on his lips. We were so close, I could feel his breath mingling with mine. There were traces of mint and tabacco, and I wondered when was the last time he had smoked.

Our lips touched so lightly, I wasn't even sure they were actually touching at first. It was as though he was terrified, scared to hurt me. Neither of us moved as we searched each other's eyes. Then, carefully, his lips moved. Cautious, at first, then more deliberately. I fell into the kiss, closing my eyes to enjoy the moment. Jacob's kisses had been hurried, rushed. Edward's was delicate, like he was worried I was going to break. But you can't break what's already broken, I wanted to tell him.

He was the one who eventually pulled away, gasping for air. Like it had all been sucked out of him.

"I. . .I. . .," his hand dropped from my face, "I'm sorry."

His words felt just as painful as any slap I'd ever received.

"Don't feel sorry for me," I spat, anger fueling me.

"That's not what I meant, I just didn't mean to take advantage of you," he rubbed his face, as though trying to rub my kisses off.

"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself," I said, realizing instantly how ridiculous my words were. The girl who let herself get beaten on a daily basis, able to take care of herself.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but I was too hurt to hear it. I grabbed my bag and made a move to storm out of the car. And then I realized I needed his help with my chair. And getting out of the car. And getting into the house. So much for trying to make a dramatic exit.

"Take me inside," I said instead.

He wordlessly got out, taking my chair out of the trunk and over to my side of the car. We didn't say a word to each other as he helped me through the door. My parents were in the kitchen when we came in, both jumping to their feet when they saw us.

"Hi," was all I said before I burst into tears.

The courtroom is silent when the prosecutor brings out the screen and computer to show the photographic evidence being presented against Jacob. When I finally work up the nerve to look at him, all I can see is the back of his head. He hasn't turned to look at me and I wonder if he even knows I'm here. If they told him that I was going to testify against him.

"The images I'm about to show you are incredibly graphic and if you are uncomfortable seeing such images, I highly suggest you leave the room now," the prosecutor warns.

No one gets up to leave.

A screen is placed at the front of the room and I feel myself holding my breath. I know these will be pictures of me, of when I went into the hospital after my accident. I haven't seen them yet, but I knew my bruises like the back of my hand. I had studied myself in the mirror every morning, memorizing each location, each shape, each color.

I look around the room, everyone's eyes are focused on the screen. Everyone's but Edward's. He sits three rows in front of me, his green eyes are currently boring into my own. We haven't spoken since the day of the kiss, I have been avoiding his calls and texts. Too humiliated to speak with him. He is looking at me, whereas everyone else is looking to see something shocking, something entertaining. Because that's what this is for them. Entertainment for their boring, miserable small-town lives.

"These were taken December 15th, the day Bella Swan was brought into the hospital after suffering injuries from a car accident. This accident, we believe, was the direct result of both physical and psychological abuse Bella experienced at the hands of Jacob Black. All of which, we will prove in our argument against the defendant," the man dims the lights of the room.

The first image on the screen is of my face. I don't remember it being taken, as I was most likely unconscious at the time. There is dried blood matting down my hair, bruises in a rainbow of colors dot the expanse of skin. There are cuts, gashes. It's hard to distinguish what is from the accident and what had been there prior.

"These marks are fresh, caused from the accident," the man says, answering my question. He points to a few of the bruises and the gash along my hairline. "These, however, are aged marks. Dr. Cullen will testify that they were not caused by the accident and, in fact, some date back several weeks."

The next image he brings up is of my upper-body, my chest covered conspicuously. This image causes several gasps from the audience. This is what they were coming to see. You can actually see where the broken ribs are, in addition to a multitude of other injuries. I don't recognize this girl, the one on the screen in front of me. She is so desperately broken.

There are images of my legs, of the broken bones, of the gashes. Of my back, a disntict handprint in the center, which they say matches exactly with Jacob's hand. Of my arms. Every surface somehow marked, as though claimed as property of Jacob Black. How did no one notice this? How could anyone look at me and not see these?

After the pictures are shown, Dr. Cullen is brought to the stand. I listen as he describes my injuries. Of his discovery of my prior wounds. Of my state of mind when I finally regained consciousness. Of my denial. Of my willingness to cover up for Jacob, as though I deserved the beatings.

It seems like hours have passed when I am finally called to the stand. My father pushes me to the front of the room, I can feel my face burning with shame and embarrassment. Last night I had stayed up, planning what I was going to say, but now I'm utterly terrified that I won't be able to get the words out. It is not until I am behind the stand that I fully take in the room. There are no empty seats and quite a few people standing in the back. Jacob is looking down at the table in front of him, refusing to meet my eye. This is the first time we've seen each other since December and I can't help but feel something when I look at him. I feel sadness and pity, but more strongly I feel fear and I have to fight to remind myself that I am safe now. That he can't hurt me anymore.

The longer I look at him, the more my desire to testify dissipates. He looks so small sitting there and it's hard to believe that he was once so intimidating and towerous to me. Maybe he has already suffered enough. Maybe he has paid his penance.

A movement to my right causes me to tear my gaze away from him. Rosalie enters the room, quietly taking a seat next to my parents. The shock must show on my face, as she gives me a reassuring smile and mouths the words, you can do this. Like she knows I'm beginning to doubt myself. I take a deep breath, signaling that I'm ready.

"Bella, when did the beatings start?" the prosecutor jumps right in.

I have to think back, time has become so jumbled to me.

"April," I hear myself answering, "Of last year."

"So roughly eight months," he walks out from behind his table, "And what happened that first time, to make him hit you?"

"I had come over to his house, knocked on his door, but no one answered. So I went in and found him in his bedroom," and it's like I'm back there, in that house, in that room, "He was upset over a fight he'd had with his father. They were always fighting. I tried to joke with him, to get him to smile. I didn't even see it coming, just felt the sting after he'd punched me. He apologized right away and told me it would never happen again."

"But it did happen again, didn't it, Bella?"

I nod.

"Every couple of weeks at first, then every few days and then almost everyday. His relationship with his father was getting more hostile and it was just his way of expressing himself," I cringe even as I hear myself say the words.

I can see the look in the eyes of the women in the room. I expect to see disgust and disappointment, but all I see is sadness and tears.

"Can you describe the hits? The progression of them?"

"The first time, it was on my face. And I told my parents I fell. After that he got more careful, to hit me in places that weren't as noticeable. My arms, my legs, my back. It was easier for me to cover these up. I started wearing baggy clothes, long sleeves. I didn't want him to see what he had done, because every time he did it just made him even more upset. Like he couldn't believe that he was capable of doing it all."

"Describe the night of the house party you went to, at Tanya Denali's house," he says.

How did he know about that night? I look at Edward for an answer, but he looks just as confused as me. Then to Jacob, whose head hangs guiltily down. Jacob has told them everything.

"Jacob didn't arrive until later, he had something going on," I start, "I had gone out for some air and had run into Edward Cullen. Jacob showed up and assumed that I was cheating on him with Edward, he was always really jealous when it came to Edward. When we got back to the car, Jacob shoved me against it. The side mirror dug into my spine so hard, I thought I would pass out from the pain. He threw me to the ground and started kicking. I tried to curl up into a ball to protect myself, but he was kicking too fast and too hard. All I could do was take it and hope it would end soon."

I'm talking to the prosecutor, but I'm looking at Edward as I speak. Telling him what I know he wanted to ask me about for months. To know what happened that night when he let me go with Jacob.

"What else happened that night, Bella?"

"Before the hitting started," I pause, unsure if I want to continue, "He forced himself on me. His lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth. And I let him, because I thought it would keep him from hitting me. His hands were all over me, grabbing and rubbing. I thought that if I gave him what he wanted sexually, that it would be enough for him."

"And was it?"

"No," I whisper.

"I'm sorry, could you speak up?"

"No," I say, louder this time, "Nothing was ever good enough."

There's silence in the court room as my words sink in.

"Did Jacob ask you to lie about the bruises? To protect him?"

"No," I blush, "I did that on my own. I thought I was in love with him. He made me think that no one else would ever love me like he did, that I had to deal with it because this was as good as it would get for me."

"And your parents, they never suspected a thing?"

I look over at my mother and father, sitting next to each other. My mother has tears streaming down her face, my father is holding her in his arms. It doesn't hit me until this moment the enormous guilt they must feel, at never having noticed what was going on.

"No, I told them that I slipped on some ice. That I fell getting out of the shower. That I tripped down some stairs. After a while, people just started calling me Clumsy Bella," I continue to look at my parents, "Everyone seemed to forget who I was before Jacob, that I was strong and athletic. And I let them, because it was easier that way."

"Bella, is there anything you'd like to say to Jacob? Now that he's sitting in front of you," everyone's eyes turn to look at the boy, the tan boy sitting there disgraced. The boy I had once thought I loved.

I take a deep breath, realizing this may be the only time I will ever get to speak to Jacob again. To tell him what he has done to me, what he took away. He doesn't look at me, he just continues to stare down at the table.

That's not fair.

"Look at me," I say, "You at least owe me that."

It takes a second, but he lifts his head and brings his eyes to me. He is still as handsome as the day I met him, but I am no longer under his spell.

"You told me when we first met that I deserved the world and that you were going to be the one to give it to me," our eyes are locked, "You lied. You called me beautiful, but when I tried to express that beauty, you called me a whore. You hit me, and when I cried, you hit me harder. You told me no one would ever love me like you did and you were right. No one will ever hit me again under the guise of love. You punched me, you kicked me, you slapped me, you squeezed me. You broke me into so many pieces that I don't know if I will ever be whole again.

"You took away my friends, my family. You made me lie. You turned me into a drug addict, because that was the only way I could handle your love. Everyday I lived was the day I thought I would die. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. All I could do was wait, because I knew one day, you would hit too hard."

There are tears brimming in his eyes, which only angers me more.

"No, you don't get to cry," I feel myself on the brink of tears, "Look what you've done to me! Look what you've turned me into! You took everything, you took it all and now I am nothing."

I can't help the sobs that erupt from me, causing my mother to run over from her seat and wrap her arms around me. The courtroom is silent minus the sounds of my crying. Judge Stillman gives me a few minutes to collect myself before dismissing me from the stand. My mother wheels me past Jacob, his eyes back on the table. Mine never leave him, as though taking one last mental picture before erasing him from my mind forever. We continue on to the doors of the room and as we do, I notice a group of Jacob's friends from the Reservation sitting in the last row. They avoid my eyes as we pass.

"Are you okay, baby?" my mother asks once we're in the hallway.

"Yeah," I wipe my eyes, "I'm fine, I'm sorry."

"Sweetie, don't apologize," she squats down to my level, "You did wonderful in there, I am so proud of you."

I smile at her, kissing her on the cheek.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I say, pulling away.

"Here, I'll help," she moves to get behind me.

"Mom, please, allow me this little bit of dignity," I say, causing her to laugh.

I wheel myself to the bathroom, cursing the chair the entire time. I'm supposedly getting crutches next week, so I can alternate between the two to get more comfortable standing and walking. Not that crutches are that much better, but anything has to be better than this chair.

I stare at myself in the mirror once I'm in the bathroom. My eyes are red and swollen, whether from the tears of today or from last night. Or the night before. Everything runs together now and it's almost like it was when I took the OxyContin. Blurred lines and days feeling like minutes feeling like years. I take several deep breathes, pulling myself together. When I feel confident enough, I exit the bathroom. I wheel back in the direction of the courtroom. As I'm about to turn a corner, I hear voices. Hushed, hurried voices that I recognize.

I wheel closely to the end of the wall, hoping I'm not seen. I peek around to see the group of Jacob's friends standing together, talking. I can't hear what it is that they're saying, but they are obviously angry. I roll myself back, realizing this probably isn't the best time to run into them. It's when I'm wheeling back that I hear two words out of their conversation. Two words that make my heart flutter and fill with fear all at the same time.

". . .Edward Cullen."

A/N: What did you think of Bella's testimony?