I've lost my mind here. It's 2:06 AM right now and I'm just finishing this chapter to update it for you guys… sheesh, I really need to get back into a regular sleeping schedule. XD I would like to thank you all again, my reviewers, for being so loyal to the story and for all the wonderful feedback. It really does make my entire day. :) And for that I ask a favour: please don't come and find me on some sort of murder mission when you're finished reading this chapter. You'll hate me, I know it. But I don't want to die. XD So, enjoy this chapter while I go and find a deep ditch to hide it so no one can try to kill me.
Esme Platt
My fingers clenched around the plastic coating of the phone as my mouth hung open, unable to form a fully coherent response other than, "Catching up?" I could almost see the malicious sneer that twisted his mouth, his words swirling inside my mind.
"Yes, catching up," he repeated, "I suggest you come down to that car repair shop later this afternoon, maybe around four o'clock. Now, I know you, Esme, and don't you try to get out of it. You wouldn't want your little sister in jeopardy, now would you?" He would never. I inhaled a shaky breath, preparing myself to reply, but the phone line went dead a second later. I continued to keep the phone held at my ear for a few lifelong moments, before I finally began to pry my fingers away and set it back in the cradle. I leaned my back against the wall, hanging my head as my arms involuntarily snaked around my torso, seeking comfort within the madhouse of sickening fear that was the whole of my body. Should I flee? That seemed like a very agreeable option at this point. I would simply take Alice and run, rent a new car, and flee to a different state, leaving him with no traces of our trail nor a vestige of our existence.
But, no, I couldn't possibly risk that. The most wise option to choose would be to simply meet him at the car garage at four o'clock. As long as I could keep my two main priorities safe – Alice and my unborn child – I basically had nothing to lose. Maybe I'd return with a couple of bruises on my skin, maybe even a battle scar or two. This sort of situation wasn't anything new and exciting – simply just another one of his quests for vengeance. He'd toy around with me for as long as he pleased until he decided that he'd had enough, and I'd be left alone. Alice would go unharmed, though only if he kept his word, and our lives would continue on as normal. This was nothing more than a rock in the path, a fork in the road. Fortunately, unlike many others, I had the experience of how exactly to handle it. I was the one who had the advantage.
I hadn't realized until my throat started to burn that I had been holding my breath for the past minute or so. I let the confined air exhale in a long sigh, lifting my head to rest it back against the cold, hard paint of the wall behind me. One of my hands absentmindedly slipped from my torso so rest upon my slightly swollen mid-section, my finger tracing patterns around the tender spot. That would most definitely pose an issue; how was I to keep him away from the most vulnerable area of my body? Wear some sort of ridiculous metal vest?
Before my mind could wander deeper into the terrifying realm, the click of the front door traveled across the room, signaling the entrance of who I assumed was my younger sister. My assumptions were proved correct about thirty seconds later as she rounded the corner, dropping her wallet and a small bag from the local drugstore onto the kitchen table. She turned around to shoot me a short greeting, but halted completely as her eyes took in my facial expression that had to be anything but content.
"Is something wrong?" she questioned, her hand half-submerged in the plastic drugstore bag. "You look like you've just found a dead body in the closet." I pretended to suddenly become preoccupied by a loose string at the edge of my sweatshirt, toying with the rather irksome piece of thread.
"Well, um, Dad called a few minutes ago." My words were slurred, almost as if I wished to jumble them in some sort of undecipherable chain of letters. Alice's already large eyes blinked in astonishment, forgetting completely about whatever contents were inside the bag.
"What did he say?"
I trapped my bottom lip between my teeth for a second, glancing quickly at Alice before returning my gaze to the carpet. "He just asked me to meet him somewhere a bit later, that's all." She tilted her head to the side, folding her arms over her chest.
"And you're going to do it? You're going to meet him there?" I gave a small nod, confirming my answer. Alice studied my expression, searching for some sort of reasoning. "Why?"
I shuffled over to the wooden table, taking a seat in one of the old, creaky chairs. "He'll leave us alone if I see him just this one time. It will hopefully be worth it in the end."
"What if it's not?" she objected, leaning forward with her elbows on top of the table. "He could seriously hurt you, Ez. I mean, really. You're going to go meet someone who could probably fatally injure you while you're pregnant? No, I don't think so."
Finally calming myself down, I set a poker face expression as I too leaned in on the table. "Well, I'm sure as hell not letting you go."
"You should let me go instead. I'm more capable of dealing with him than you are. I'm less likely to be injured," she reasoned matter-of-factly, removing her elbows from the table as she sat back in her chair.
I sighed exasperatedly, twisting my fingers into my hair. "No, I will not let you go. I'm doing this to protect you, Alice. Just leave it be." I believed that I had finally won the small quarrel when she crossed her arms over her chest, huffing in a defeated manner. I simply averted my gaze down to my clasped hands, suddenly becoming fascinated with tracing obscure patterns into the wood with the tip of my finger. The silence was nearly awkward, the air devoid of any noise other than our distressed breathing.
Alice's voice suddenly broke the heavy air, the scrape of her chair against the floor nearly startling me out of my own. "I'll be in my room if you need me," she muttered, her mouth set into a thin, disapproving line. I nodded in response, never bothering to remove my eyes from the table. After she had trudged up the stairs, I heard the not-so-quit slam of her temporary bedroom's door, all noise ceasing as she most likely flopped face-first onto her bed. I shook my head at her antics, glancing at the digital stove clock that read 3:17 PM. I only had a little less than forty-five minutes to prepare myself for whatever was in store at the next hour. I continued to sit at the table for the next couple of minutes, contemplating exactly how to prepare myself. There was really nothing for me to do – God only knew what sort of sickening plan occupied my father's mind at this point. I finally settled on attempting to find some sort of clothing to fully cover my protruding stomach, surely he wouldn't be pleased if he were to notice that his twenty-year-old, unmarried daughter was with child. I made my way up the rather loud staircase and into my room, beginning to rummage through my closet in search of any garment that could fully well hide any suspicion. Once I felt as though I'd completely submerged myself into a sea of clothes, my wandering eyes finally spotted a fleece sweatshirt with the Harvard logo printed on the front, one that Carlisle had lent me and I'd "forgotten" to return. It had always been much too large for me, sagging nearly halfway down my thighs while the rest of my torso swam in the abundance of extra space. It was the perfect article of clothing for my current need, though I felt a twinge of guilt due to the circumstances of which it was being used.
As soon as I pulled the much too large sweatshirt over my head, I checked in the hall mirror to make sure that my mission had been accomplished. I nodded curtly in approval, my eyes observing no trace of the growing bulge beneath the fabric. The numbers of the clock read 3:40 when I reached the bottom of the stairs – only twenty minutes left. My thoughts halted in their tracks for a second, realizing that I had no recollection of a car garage anywhere near in town. There must be one on the outskirts of the village, I presumed, I may as well go look for it. After scribbling a short note to Alice, I grabbed my car keys from the basket on the counter and headed out the door, approaching the used Ford that I had recently bought off of one of my neighbours. I shoved the key into the ignition as soon as I slid into the driver's seat, hearing the engine purr to life with quite some difficulty. The local town was quite lively as I forced my car through a jammed line of traffic, there were about as many people walking the streets as there were vehicles shoved bumper to bumper in the traffic holdup. I somehow managed to weave through the others and find my way out of the crowded area, keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of a car repair shop sign at the side of the road. It seemed as though I'd turned down every street in the system, my search making no avail in what felt like hours. Just as I was about to give up and take the risk of blowing off the meeting, I spotted a gravel side road that led up to a faded brick building. Curious, I turned my car around to pull onto the road, gravel crackling beneath the tires as I forced the vehicle up the tiny slope. There was a sign hanging crookedly in the center of the building, the paint chipped so terribly that it made the words nearly illegible. With much squinting, I finally was able to make out the words 'Jimmy's Car Repair' from the sign, confirming my assumption that this dilapidated building was in fact the car garage. I pulled the key from the ignition, setting it on the dashboard before I climbed out of the car, taking a few steps towards the repair shop. Cobwebs lined the door handle and the windows were faded with smudges of dirt, adding to the menacing effect of the completely desolate area. Great, he led me to an abandoned car garage.
I hesitantly pushed the heavy door open, adrenaline beginning to pulse through my veins as I stepped into the dark, musty environment. "Dad?" I called, my shaky voice echoing throughout the vacant building, bouncing off of the concrete floor and back into the air. My breaths started coming in a jagged pattern, my eyes sweeping the darkness for any sort of human silhouette.
"I take it that you're looking for me." I could have sworn that my heart skipped an entire beat when the husky male voice disturbed the air, coming from directly behind me. In an instant, I spun around to face the man behind my back, only to find his lips twisted into a malicious sneer. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or the sickening terror flooding through my veins, but he seemed much larger than he had before, almost as if he'd taken part in a daily workout just to prepare for this occasion. I swiped my tongue across my lips, attempting to rehydrate my mouth that had suddenly gone dry.
"H-Hello," I stammered, my hands involuntarily clasping in front of me as my fingers began to knead together. My father's menacing eyes seemed to burn straight through mine, the sneer on his face transforming into an amused smirk.
"Oh, Esme," he half-chuckled, "why so nervous? Surely you'd be ecstatic after not having contact with me for so many years." His face leaned in dangerously close to mine, his rancid breath flooding over my nose. I could feel my palms break into a sweat as I gave a small, barely decipherable shake of my head in objection to his statement. His fake grin dropped from his mouth, his eyes hardening at my contradiction. "Ah, I see how it is, love."
"Don't call me love." My words were almost a whisper as I took one tiny step backwards, keeping my gaze locked with his.
"I can call you whatever I please," he retorted, latching his meaty hand onto my thin forearm. "You are my daughter, after all. You belong to me." His grip felt as if it were burning through my skin underneath the sleeve of the sweatshirt, his fingers giving it a muscled squeeze. Stupidly, I attempted to release my arm from his grasp, but instead received a shove against the concrete wall.
"I don't belong to you, I'm not your property," I retorted, this time my voice amplifying itself to what seemed to me like a snarl. Charles gave me another slam into the wall, using his other hand to secure both of my arms beside me.
He leaned forward once more, resting his knee against the wall between my legs. "Then who do you belong to, that boyfriend of yours? Doubtful, I do believe that I took care of that little bastard." I had opened my mouth to dispute his statement, but before the words left my lips, his hand let go of my wrist and placed itself tightly over my mouth. I struggled against his hold, my body beginning to writhe beneath his iron grip. "He has no right to you; not like I do." I would have been able to sink my teeth into his hand if his grip had been a hair looser, but instead, my strife only intensified. Frantically, my eyes wheeled around to find his fingers wrapping themselves around the bottom of my top layer of clothing, slowly dragging it upwards to pull it over my head. Oh, God, no.
"And what do we have here?" I watched his gaze descend to my abdomen, my breath hitching in my throat. Before he could reach his filthy fingers to the area, I managed to pull back my leg far enough to give a powerful kick to his shin. He swore loudly, my name getting thrown into the mix of his profanities. For a second, he completely forgot about the bump protruding from my stomach as he pulled back his clenched fist and delivered a forceful punch to the side of my face. The taste of blood flooded my mouth, my vision blurring for a few seconds as he began to speak once more, the first section of his sentence slurring into a chain of jumbled words. "This could pose a large issue," he finished, his dirt-coated fingers finally coming in contact with my bump. My mouth was freed from his hold while he reached into his back pocket, pulling out some sort of rather small, narrow object. He kept it hidden from my view by toying with it behind his back, only heightening my level of terror that was already through the ceiling.
Another impact came to my face, this time a stinging slap across my left cheek with a hint of what felt like the edge of a razorblade. "I think that I'll just take care of this problem," he sneered the word, "for you." I managed to crane my neck to the side to try and make out what the object behind his back may have been, but my endeavors were cut short as he secured one hand beneath my jaw, forcing my head upwards and harder against the cold wall. I couldn't help but let out a whimper of pure fear, agonizingly anticipating his next move. My eyes squeezed shut just before he plunged a razor-sharp blade deep into my mid-section, twisting it at an angle. I could feel the warm, scarlet blood begin to seep through my shirt, and naturally, a blood-curdling scream ripped from my throat.
"Scream and cry all you want, love," Charles purred, "there's no one around to hear you." At that, he released his death hold on my body and shoved me to the floor, my weak legs collapsing beneath my weight. I saw his shadow looming over my crumpled body as my hands frantically searched for the stab wound, a pool of red beginning to form and expand at my side. The maniacal sound of my father's satisfactory laugh reached my swimming ears, his last words flying over my head while the now only-too-familiar sensation of the blade sinking into my mid-back made itself front and center in my mind. My jaw fell open in a silent cry of pain, no sound escaping my vocal chords other than a faint squeak. A deep shade of scarlet blotched over my vision, my mind battling to remain in consciousness. I'm going to die. He's going to win by making this floor my deathbed. I sucked in a large breath of air, hoping that somehow it would fuel my body to hang on just a little bit longer. A broken whimper emanated from deep in my throat, my mind only managing four last words before my mind completely clouded over.
Carlisle, I love you.