Chapter 17

Hope's POV

Life with the Cullens wasn't so bad. Carlisle and Esme were supportive yet not overbearing. It'd been nearly a week since our relocation to their home, and the same length of time since I'd attended school. I was stretched out across my bed listening to music on my ipod when a visitor stepped inside my open door. I looked up to see Carlisle in the doorframe, a gentle expression across his face as he crossed the room to sit in the chair across from me.

"How are you today?" he asked in his usual formal manner.

"I'm fine," came my sudden response. It was my norm these days as I fought to control the emotions swarming through my brain. I feared if I gave in to them, I might implode so instead I faked my way through each minute of every day.

"You don't look fine," he sighed, deeply. "I'd like you to join us for dinner tonight."

It was his gentle approach at a push to be more engaged. Since my arrival, I'd spent the majority of my days in this room only venturing out for the occasional bathroom trip or visit to the fridge and even those were few and infrequent. Alice, Jacob and Esme made frequent visits trying to draw me out, but I wouldn't budge. The only reason they'd backed off was because of Carlisle's insistence that I be given some time and space to work through some things. I knew my time was coming to and end soon, just wasn't sure how soon it might be.

"No thank you," my tone uncertain as I rejected his offer.

"Sweetheart, we're trying to be very patient with you because we know you're hurting. I don't want to force you to do things you don't want, but kiddo, I'm worried that you're hiding and that it's keeping you from dealing with some really raw emotions. I get not wanting to feel because it's gonna hurt, but every bit of those feelings you're stuffing are going to come out eventually. At least, if you take control of them now, you get to determine how you deal with them. My wife and I want to be here for you. If you don't want to talk, that's all right too, but at least come out of your room. Spend some time with your brother and sister, spend some time getting to know us. I promise we have no intensions to do anything but help. Give us a chance."

"I will, of course," I was good at putting on a show lately. "I'm sorry. I just...I guess...I don't know, I guess I've just been really tired." With a chuckle, I added, "That migraine really did me in."

"Perhaps we should run a few tests just to rule out some other things," I should have known better than to bring it up. A doctor, he would of course want to make sure I wasn't under any physical distress. "Any nausea or dizziness? Blurred vision?"

"Back it up," I reminded myself mentally. "I'm fine now. Really."

His hand reached out to rest on my forehead a moment before dropping, "How about you and I come to an agreement, hmmm?"

"Depends on the agreement," I thought and he surprised me with a soft chuckle followed by. "I suppose you probably need to hear the agreement first, huh?"

"I guess," I muttered beneath my breath.

"Here it is, let's agree to be honest with each other even if the other person won't like what we have to say. What do you think?"

I rolled it around in my brain a moment before nodding, "OK."

"All right then," he stood. "I expect you to be at dinner tonight. You're my responsibility and I don't think all this solitude is doing you any good. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. That'll give you plenty of time to take a shower and change your clothes." Before I could argue, he slipped out the door leaving me with my mouth open.

Dillan's POV

I sat on the sofa playing a video game with Emmett. He was Carlisle and Esme's son, and Bree's dad. I hadn't actually met Bree, but Emmett seemed pretty cool. When I was in the hospital after the accident, he brought in a video game system so we could play to pass the time, and he promised to take me to a baseball game in the spring. Gaming was something I liked. I was really into racing and shooting games. My grampy was in the military when he was a kid and someday I was going to be just like him. For now, the closest I got was playing a first person shooter game. Esme and Carlisle were nice to take us in. It wasn't like anyone really wanted us, but the Cullens at least pretended and we all had our own rooms. Mine was filled with legos, action figures, sports and science stuff. I hoped we could stay forever, but my sister told me we were going to leave as soon as Aunt Aria got better. I didn't want to go back to live with her. She never paid any attention to me, and then I had to listen to my sister. I missed mom and dad so much. It made it hard to sleep at night and sometimes I didn't want to eat. Carlisle kept a close eye on all of us to make sure we were ok. I tried to pretend just because he was so nice, but nothing was ok. It never would be.

Forgetting where I was, a series of curses escaped my lips as my character got shot draining me of my last remaining life and thus ending the game. The next thing I heard was Hope's sharp tone. Emmett looked surprised at my reaction, but didn't say a word.

"Dillan Michael," she warned, pointing toward the stairs. "Put the video game up and go to your room!"

"Aww, come on!" I protested, angrily. "You say it all the time!"

Her eyes flashed, "Now!"

"No!" I yelled, pushing myself up from the sofa. "You're not my mom! I'm sick and tired of you trying to boss me around. Mom and Dad are dead and I don't have to listen TO YOU!" With that, I threw the game controller out of my right hand toward the tv and stomped up the stairs. Somehow, Emmett managed to catch the controller before it shattered the TV which made no sense. Whatever! I swore again before running into my bedroom where I slammed the door several times before clearing the items from the top of my dresser with one fell swoop and punching two holes into the sheetrock on my wall. I only stopped when I felt the pain in my wrist. Looking down, I saw angry bruises already forming. Screw it all! I turned and threw myself onto the bed, hiding my face in my arms to hide the sound of my sobs.

Esme's POV

I was in the kitchen prepping dinner for the kids when I heard yelling from the living room. Dillon was testy and for good reason. But this was the first time I'd heard him fight with his older sister. Emma came running around the corner behind me just in time to witness the end of the show. The sounds of her sobs joined with her brother's coming from the bedroom upstairs. Hope looked both angry and defeated as she turned to storm out the door. Emmett and I exchanged a glance as I reached out to grab the teen's wrist before she could disappear.

"Hold on a second, sunshine," I kept my tone even and my grip gentle as she fought to hide the tears welling behind closed eyelids. Beside me, I heard Emmett as he knelt down and scooped Emmalyn into his arms, reassuring her as they journeyed into the kitchen to check on dinner. Upstairs, Carlisle was already checking in on Dillon. "Hey?"

The girl would barely look at me, but she didn't shrug off my arm so that meant something.

"What?" her tone was guarded then dripping with sarcasm when she spoke. "You going to tell me everything is OK? That God knows what he's doing or perhaps that my parents are in a better place?"

"No," I shook my head, leading her to the sofa where I sat her down before pulling out the ottoman and lowering myself to eye-level before her. "Absolutely not." There was silence for a moment before she raised her eyes to look at me with surprise.

"You're not?" I watched as she pressed her black, polished nails to the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. "Then let's have it. I'd love to hear your new approach."

I chose to ignore the sarcasm. The girl was hurting, that much was evident and it was coming out in how she interacted with everyone else. "I had a daughter," I began, forcing myself beyond the grief that threatened to keep me silent. "When I was younger, that is...before Alice and the others. She was two days old when she died of lung complications. I was devastated. People try to tell you it gets easier. They say all kinds of things because they want to make things better. But you know, for those of us living with the loss everyday, it's NOT ok. Over time, it doesn't hurt as much, but the anger and the fear and the pain, they remain. And sweetheart, it is all right to allow yourself to feel. It's OK to miss them and it's OK to be angry. It's NOT fair and right now, not one of us expect you to be OK," I pushed the stray bangs out of her eyes before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Let us worry about taking care of you and your brother and sister. That's why we're here. We want to help. We do not expect you to carry this alone."

Hope didn't say another word, but she also didn't argue or ask me to stop. We sat awhile in silence while the tears fell. I simply held her hand and waited. For now, that was what I could offer and I was grateful she didn't reject it.

Carlisle's POV

I should have expected an outburst like this. It was only a matter of time with emotions mounting and no space for a release. The boy didn't move when I stepped into his room. His sobs racked his body though he tried so hard to keep quiet and hide it from the rest of the household. His cries tore at my heart strings; I could not begin to imagine the trauma this child was experiencing. Without a word, I sat on the bedside, leaning over to rest my palm on the child's back. He shifted slightly at my touch, but didn't look up.

"Dillan," I spoke softly, rubbing his back in circles as he cried, my eyes traveling around the room to assess the damage. The floor was littered with lego figurines and the toiletries that previously occupied the dresser top. In the wall, there were two angry holes in the plaster the size of a child's fist. Time passed as I waited simply watching the clock tick. It wasn't that I needed an explanation. I'd heard everything from my office upstairs, but for the sake of presenting like a normal family, I'd been forced to use human speed which prevented me from intervening when I'd have liked.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked at last, wiping both eyes with clenched fists exposing the bruises and swelling on his right knuckle.

"That may be a safe assumption," I commented with a sad smile, "Let me look at your hand."

"It's fine," the boy retorted, sticking both hands into his pockets wincing as he did. He seemed to be thinking things over a moment before looking up with a shrug, shoving his hand out toward me. "Mhhh'kay."

My touch was gentle as I examined the tiny knuckle, asking him to flex it around, "I don't think it's broken, but I'm going to wrap it just to keep it immobile for a few days. Let's go into my office."

The boy took my extended hand and I tousled his hair as we walked toward my office. By the time I had his hand wrapped, he seemed calmer and his tears had dried. I climbed up onto the exam table and sat beside him so we were both staring down at our dangling legs. He was the first to break the silence.

Dillan's POV

"I'm sorry about the wall," I sniffled, not sure how the man would react. "I...I was mad."

"That makes sense," was the doctor's response.

"It does?" I looked up with surprise expecting to see anger on his face. Instead, I only saw compassion.

"Of course," he nodded, "You're have a lot of bad things happen to your family lately."

"It's not that I don't love my sister...I do," I began again. I didn't want him thinking I didn't like Hope. She was a good sister even if she was bossy. "It's just...I...I miss my Mom and Dad." The end of my sentence was muffled with emotions that felt like they might strangle me.

"I know," Carlisle didn't seem surprised by my anger or my actions. "Dillan, it's all right. I'm not angry with you."

"You're not?" I was incredulous. "So you're not going to punish me?"

"I'm going to hold you accountable for punching holes in your walls if that's what you're asking, but I wouldn't necessarily consider it punishment, not traditionally, at least," the man smiled, "After dinner, we are going to the hardware store to pick up supplies and I'm going to teach you how to repair your own wall. When that's done, I want you to clean up your mess and write me an essay."

"An essay?" I asked, curiously. Usually my parents just grounded me. Sometimes they yelled. But usually they took away some of my privileges. "On what?"

"I want you to consider your actions, where you went wrong, and how you can do better next time."

"Next time?" I asked.

"You're 9 and you're dealing with a lot of balled-up emotions. It'd be unrealistic to think something like this might not happen again. I want you to identify some better choices in advance so you can use them as tools when you need them. Fair enough?"

I nodded, "I guess."

Carlisle rested a hand against my face, pausing a moment to really examine my face before tousling my hair once more, "Let's go get something to eat."

"K," I nodded, pushing off the table onto the floor with a bang. Before I could leave the room, the man stopped me.

"And Dillan," he seemed about to say one thing before finishing with "You can always come to me. I want you to find me when you're upset or if you need to talk. That's why I'm here." With that, he pulled me into a hug before we made our way down to dinner.

Emmett's POV

I didn't know what to do when the siblings began to argue. I hadn't expected the curses that'd flowed so freely from Dillan's lips, and I certainly hadn't expected his explosive reaction to his sister's correction. The only thing I could do now was try to lessen the damage of his blow to Emmalyn who stood sobbing pathetically at my mother's side. Without a word, I crossed the room to lean down and scoop the little girl into my arms, taking her to the kitchen where it was quiet. Her tears broke my heart; her brother's words had obviously upset her.

"Here ya go, darling," I set her atop the counter before leaning down to wipe the tears from her eyes, "Now there, we can't have so many tears."

"We can't?" came her curious response.

"No, of course not," I responded with a smile. "Hmmmh...I know how we fix this."

"You do?" she asked, her eyes alive with interest as she temporarily forgot what'd just happened.

"Well, of course," I stated as I reached into the freezer and pulled out a popsicle. The size of the little girl's eyes when she spotted the frozen treat brought a chuckle to my lips.

"For me?" she inquired, reaching out with both hands for the strawberry pop as I freed it from its' wrapper.

"Maybe," I teased, but she wouldn't have it.

"Strawberry!" she squealed, snatching it out of my hand and popping it into her mouth.

To be honest, the "treat" smelled horrible to me, but it brought a smile to the child's face and for that I was grateful. "Now, don't go telling my mother that I gave you a popsicle before dinner or you'll get me in trouble."

Her giggles and a bright smile were my reward. I listened a moment to the conversations going on in other areas of the house. Dillan's hand was hurt, but not broken and Esme seemed to be getting somewhere with Hope. The kids needed us, that was for sure. The Cullens weren't ones to give up on one another and we weren't about to give up on them. No matter what. I only wished my wife felt the same way. Just the night before, Rose and I sat up late debating our parent's decision to bring these kids into their home. Rose felt it was putting each of us at risk and especially our adopted daughter, Bree. That was why neither Rose nor Bree had visited since their arrival. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Bree wasn't at any more risk here than she was on any given day at school which is precisely why Alice and I had taken a coaching positions at the HS while Edward remained on staff as a teacher. We meant to keep a close eye on Bree, Jacob and Renesmee, now Hope as well. I knew Rose would come around given time, but it was just so hard for her to trust new people. I knew my wife though, she had a good heart and if the going got tough, she'd be one of the first to stand up for the kids. That's just who she was.

Now done with her popsicle, Emmalyn reached out for me with sticky, chubby hands. "Uh-huh," I shook my head, "You're not wiping those grubby hands on me, missy," I teased. "Not til we get you washed up."

She shrieked with joy when I sprayed her with the sink hose, catching her by surprise before lifting her up and plastering her face with kisses.

"E'met," she cried out in laughter as I tickled her, "E'nuf!"

Giving in to her request, I stopped. Her legs wrapped around me, and she tucked her baby face into my neck, breathing in deeply before lifting her face to mine and pressing a kiss on my cheek. And that's when I knew I was in trouble. This little girl already had my heart.