Again, I love you guys for the reviews and the lovely comments. As an aspiring writer (though I need to proofread better haha, but I'm just so excited) the reviews and sweet comments make me so happy.
More info at the end of this chapter, but now…
Bella…nuff said.
Thanks to Lizde. You my dear are awesome.
Ch 10/Bella/She's So Sick
I don't know what I was dreaming about, but I liked it.
Sometimes dreams haunt me throughout the day. It doesn't matter if it was a nightmare or a good dream, they haunt me. Surprisingly, the worst dreams are the good dreams. They are a reminder of what could have been or what once was. When you've lived in peace for a brief moment, or have seen what it's like, but you have to go back to living in hell, its torture.
Living in hell burns and hurts, while the cruel memories of love and peace smile back from far away. They wave at you and though they mean no harm, I can't help but hate them. I'd rather live in ignorance and not know what I live in. Its best not to know that there is something better out there.
Yeah, life is better with your eyes closed. Especially, if your small hopes of something better melt away each day in the hell you live in.
My body began to wake up before my brain. My arms were sore… yet again, reminding me that I'm still alive. As if I need reminders. It doesn't matter how many times he does it, it hurts each time and the soreness is present each morning.
I sighed, still mostly asleep, and inhaled that scent. It's pathetic that even in my dreams, I can still smell Edward. But then again, in my dreams Edward's holy scent isn't mixed with the scent of weed.
Shit.
The sudden reminder of what had happened brought me wide awake. I sat up and my heart to sped up. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. I felt him before I saw him. I quickly turned to find Edward lying on my bed, next to me, with his eyes wide open.
On my bed!
"Oh shit…" I yelped and he gave me a crooked smile. I held my chest with one hand and tried to control my breathing.
"You okay?" He asked, and his smile disappeared. I didn't answer right away. I could see daylight coming in through the glass door of the balcony, and Edward was still in my room.
Still in my room and in my bed!
Why?
"What are you still doing here?" I asked. "What are you doing here?" His face turned serious.
"You… um…" he gulped. "You, uh, wouldn't let go of my shirt last night when I helped you into bed. I don't know… I thought if I pulled away it would scare you," he said softly.
"What? Oh my god," I said, embarrassed.
"It's alright Bella. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway." He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood. I was about to answer him when I realized where my other hand was. It was resting on top of his.
"You um… uh, you should go. My father…" I said quickly, removing my hand from his.
"I know. He isn't here and even if he was I wouldn't just leave you alone with him today," he said, seriously.
In that moment I remembered that Edward had seen it all. My daily humiliation now had a witness. Someone knew my secret. Someone knew about my ugly bruises. Someone knows about him. Someone knows…
I panicked because that someone is Edward Cullen. Edward, the boy who has tortured me for so long, knows. Edward, the boy who seems heartless and acts like a completely inconsiderate mongrel, knows. Edward, the guy who thinks I got him caught smoking weed, knows!
"I just couldn't leave you like this today," he said lowly.
"Don't try and be the hero. And it doesn't matter, it's not like today is any different from yesterday, or any of the other days in the last 18 years of my life."
"It is different. I saw everything. That's different."
He had seen my humiliation. He had seen how pathetic I was. I felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and anger. I rubbed my eyes and covered my face with my hands and took a deep breath. I started rocking back and forth, trying to control myself, though it never worked.
"Oh my god you saw everything. I'm so sorry. Shit… I'm so embarr…"
"Hey, why are you apologizing? You're the one who is being abused Bella!"
"Shh! Don't say that!" I griped.
How dare he? He doesn't know me. He doesn't know what's going on!
Oh yeah, Swan, he's so wrong! You just don't want to admit that your life is fucked up!
"Why not?" He asked, sitting up. "It's the truth. It's not right Bella. Does he do that to you a lot? Have you told anybody? He's fucked-up in the head! Does your mom know?" He was beginning to suffocate me with his questions and I felt overwhelmed. Plus he was still on my damn bed!
"Has he done anything…"
"Just leave me alone. Something you should have done a long time ago!" I was angry and it wasn't his fault, but I needed to take it out on someone, and he was the one bugging me right now.
"You shouldn't care!" I yelled. I about to jump off the bed when he grabbed my arm, pulling me back down to the edge of the bed.
"Hey wait…" he started to mumble, but when I yelped in pain, he began apologizing like there was no tomorrow.
"Shit I'm sorry, I'm fucking stupid! I totally forgot your arm would be sore. I'm sorry. Shit…" he said, now holding my hand.
I violently pulled away from him and grabbed my upper arm. The pulling away made it hurt worse, and I was pissed.
"I'm sorry Bella…" he continued, now standing in front of me while I sat at the edge of my bed. The pain tingled all the way down to my feet. It was weird.
"Just forget about it!" I yelled, while wincing from the pain. I felt him kneel in front of me, but I didn't look. I couldn't face him.
"I… um, let… let me look at it," he said hesitantly. I could tell he was only saying that because he didn't know what else to do. I didn't need his fakeness.
"No!"
"Bella my dad is a doctor."
"But you're not!"
"But I know about bruises… if you would let me finish!" He snapped.
"It's just sore."
"Well I can help with that too."
"You don't have to. I'm already use to it!" I immediately regretted what I had said. It was only giving him answers. He didn't say anything.
I didn't say anything.
He stared at me for a long, silent moment. His eyebrows were furrowed and his green eyes were soft, but full of questions. He had questions I couldn't answer. I wouldn't answer. I'm not ready. I'm especially not ready to give him answers. He would probably use this against me some day at school just to torture me.
"Please…" I whispered and looked down at my hands in my lap. "Please… don't… don't tell anybody what you saw. If people found out… I… it's just that…"
"Bella," he sighed. "I won't tell anybody if you don't want me to. I'm might be an asshole, but… I'm now... feeling a little weight…" he whispered back.
"And I'm sorry for that… you shouldn't…"
"I'm not angry about knowing. You shouldn't apologize."
"But I'm so embarrassed. You must think…"
"Fuck what I think Bella!" He said.
I was caught off guard and jumped a little. "Sorry," he mumbled, running his fingers through his morning hair. I just shook my head. He sat down next to me on my bed.
I still wondered what he was still doing here.
"Why?" I asked lowly.
"Why what?"
"Why are you here… still? And why are you acting like this? You shouldn't care!"
"What the fuck Bella? You keep saying that shit! What kind of asshole do you think I am? I just saw some horrible shit happen to you. Do you really think I'm that heartless? I was here because I was stupid drunk and I wanted to bother you… yeah I know, 'ass,' but then all that… stuff… happened… and I don't know anymore."
I wasn't actually sure what he was talking about. We sat in silence for a long time, not knowing what to say or how to act around each other. We both stared at the wall in front of us, listening to each other breathe.
"It's ruined," he whispered, and I looked at him in confusion.
"What's ruined?"
"This…" he said, waving at the space between us.
"It's not like I can go on and pretend I don't know you Bella, or that I didn't see what I saw. It's not like I can go on with my life and forget what I know. The fucked up part is that we weren't, and we aren't, friends… yet… and I know this shit about you. I mean…" he sighed as he struggled to say what he meant. "I mean… um… uh… shit. I don't even know… it's like when this kinda' thing happens to a friend you kinda' know what to do. I'm not…"
"You don't have to be my friend just because of what you saw," I mumbled. "You can go on and forget this. You can go on and pretend that you didn't see that. And you will."
"How can you expect me to? How can you expect me to sleep while I know your piece of shit father is tormenting you for no reason?"
"Just stop! Like you said, we aren't friends. We aren't even acquaintances, so it doesn't have to bother you and you don't have to do anything about it. We aren't friends and, if we stay this way, you won't have to force yourself to do anything. You won't have to. I've lived with this all my life. You don't have to be the hero and I don't want your pity. Just think of me as a bad Lifetime movie. You just flip the channel and move on to something else," I said.
He stayed silent, and we went back to staring at the wall. A few minutes passed and I didn't understand what still kept him here. I remembered what my father had said about cleaning and taking care of mom.
MOM!
I jumped a little.
"I um… I have to clean the house and check on my mom, because she's sick. I don't want to kick you out… okay maybe I do… but, um, you should go," I said and he nodded.
"Is that why you didn't go to school yesterday? Because you were taking care of your mother?" He asked.
"Yes," I simply said and he shook his head.
"Can you answer just one more question? Please?" He asked. I didn't understand his pleading, but it didn't matter now.
"I guess."
"Does… does he… does he hit you a lot? Or push you around and talk to you like that?" He asked, almost in a whisper. I avoided his eyes and looked down. II could feel him staring at me, waiting for the answer.
I nodded.
He sighed.
"But actual hitting, he only does that when he's really pissed. And last night he was really pissed. Usually he's not that bad… um… he usually just yells at me and pulls and tugs me around… a lot." I whispered. I could feel the knot forming in my throat.
DON'T CRY DON'T CRY DON'T CRY! He'll see that you're weak.
I'm an idiot and I'm pathetic. I just want someone to tell me it's alright, but Edward Cullen is not the one for the task. I shouldn't open my mouth around him.
He sighed again while shaking his head and I looked at him. He seemed angry and I didn't know what had pissed him off, but I wasn't going to let him stick around to show me.
"Um, I think I answered your question. Now can…"
"Oh… um yeah," he said, standing up. He stretched and yawned and began walking to the balcony door, but then he stopped and looked around my room.
"Your drawings are ruined… the ones on the floor… that sucks. I bet they were cool like the rest of your drawings," he said and I just shook my head.
"It doesn't matter. I'll just draw them again."
He smiled, looking down at the drawings and the mess Father had made, and then something flashed across his face and he looked at me again.
"Um… can I have a piece of sketch book paper and um… uh… a pencil?"
"You wanna draw?" I asked and he chuckled lightly.
"Um no, I suck at that shit. I don't want to humiliate myself in front of you."
I rolled my eyes and before he could ask again, I grabbed a pencil and a paper from off the floor, making sure it was blank. I handed it to him and he wrote on it.
"Um, do you have a cell phone?" He asked and I shook my head.
"No."
"Um, well…" he said, staring at what he had written and then handing it to me.
"Well, if shit ever gets deep… and… um," he couldn't bring himself to say it, but he wanted to. "If, you know… if you need help with any asshole, just… find a phone and let me know. I'll get here," he said as he opened the balcony door and stepped outside.
"Why?"
"You ask that too much."
"And you need to answer," I said. He smiled.
"It's part of our deal. I have to keep my word."
"But this isn't school and you don't have to. It's not your fault."
"If I remember correctly, I said if anybody wants to start shit with you I'll make them fuck off… I'll just make sure to not get so fucked up from now on. Like it or not Bella, we made a deal. And though I am a jackass, I do keep my word," he said. I just shook my head.
He jumped into my tree and slid down to the ground.
"I can't believe you just did that!" I yelled. He gave me his crooked smile and waved. I waved back, and he ran off.
I walked back into my room and took a look at the piece of paper. It had a phone number and his name on it. He had fancy handwriting, but what had me more amused was that it was his name by that phone number.
Edward.
I took a quick shower, making sure to put on a long sleeve shirt so She wouldn't ask, and headed downstairs.
My parents have not slept in the same room for years. Both of them sleep downstairs, leaving me alone upstairs. I don't mind the arrangement, but it means Father has to use the shower upstairs. I lock my door every night.
I opened the door to Mom's room and I immediately smelled the vomit. I held my breath and walked in. She was slumped over her bed, covered with her blue comforter and a pillow over her face.
"Mom?" I said, and she just moaned.
"Mom do you feel any better?"
"No baby…" she said, her voice muffled by her pillow.
"Do you wanna take a bath?"
"Uh huh."
"Okay, let me get a bath ready."
I walked into the bathroom and saw the vomit on the floor. I held my breath and rushed to the kitchen for a mop and a bucket. I put soap and water into the bucket and ran back. I cleaned up the vomit and put everything back into its place. Then I opened the bedroom window, trying to get air into the room and get rid of the awful smell. I got the bath tub ready with warm water and soap and then I walked over to my mother, who was still buried in her bed.
"Mom, the bath tub is ready," I said.
She removed the pillow from her face. She was pale and her face looked drained of energy. She looked older. Her eyes were tired and red. It reminded of me of yesterday.
I was about to go to school when Father yelled to me and pulled me into the kitchen.
He didn't have to go to work until later, but mom got sick last night and didn't cook anything, so he made me cook for him, making me late for school. When I was about to leave again, he stopped me. He barked that I should stay home and take care of Mom while he rested. I spent all day taking care of her, but she wasn't getting any better.
"Mom, how did you get so sick?" I asked while helping her into bed.
"Oh baby, it's not the flu," she giggled. "I'm drunk."
I knew that. I could smell it on her. But I wanted to know why she had decided to get drunk. My mother never drinks. It's bad for her. She has a weak stomach and diabetes.
"What? But mom you never drink."
"I know baby, but I had to celebrate with Phil."
"Who is Phil mom?"
"He's the President of the book club I joined. He got a book deal and wanted to celebrate with us. So I had to. He is so cute Bella! You should see him. He is so young and…" Her voice trailed off and she started to vomit.
I immediately hated this Phil guy, but I ignored the bad feeling I got and pushed it to the back if my mind. But now, seeing my mother likes this, I am reminded of him. I hate him.
I pulled the covers off my mother and she groaned.
"Mom, come on, the bath is ready."
"I have a headache baby."
"I know Mom, but the bath is going to help." I took her by her hands and pulled her up. She almost fell over and I grabbed her by the waist. She is taller than me, and heavier, so this was complicated. My sore arms griped as I tried carrying her, but I ignored them, I had to help my mother. I wrapped her arm around my neck and helped her into the bathroom. I helped her undress, and slowly and gently she stepped into the water and sat down. I got on my knees and grabbed the shampoo bottle.
"This is all wrong, baby. It's all wrong. Wrong."
"What's wrong mom?" I said as I shampooed her hair.
"I'm supposed to take care of you, not the opposite," she sighed. I just continued massaging her scalp.
"Mom I'm not a child anymore. And you did take care of me. When I was a kid, remember?" I lied. I was lying to myself and to her just to make her feel better. We both knew it.
"I didn't… that one day."
"Mom, don't talk about that day anymore. Just forget it," I said and she smiled with no emotion.
"Baby?"
"Yes mom?"
"Have you forgotten about that day? Have you forgiven me… or him?" She asked with watery eyes.
I didn't answer. And she didn't press me. I appreciated it. It hurts to say it. The answer hurts. It's not like me. It's not me. But I can't…
No.
I left my mother in the tub and rushed to the kitchen, grabbed some aspirin and a glass of water and ran back. I gave her the pills and the glass of water. She chugged down the water after popping the pills, and with shaky hands, gave me the empty glass.
I sat there with her until she decided she was ready to get out. I wiped my glasses with my shirt, as the steam from the water had fogged them up, and sat on the toilet with the cover down. My mom fell asleep and whimpered a little, and I just sat there waiting.
Father would be back around noon and it was eight in the morning now. I really had to get moving. I had to clean the house and make lunch, but my mind was distracted.
Is Edward going to tell anybody?
What are his intentions?
He doesn't seem too bad…
Are you forgetting all the crap he has done to you? Don't you think it's weird that he has yet to ask you why you supposedly told on him during the weed incident?
Maybe he really isn't holding a grudge? I don't know.
I'm just so embarrassed that he had to see what Father likes to do on his off-time. I don't want any pity. I hate it. It just reminds me of my failure to be a stronger person. It makes me nervous that Edward knows what he knows. What if he tells someone? And what if that someone tells someone else, and then Father hears it from that someone else? Then he'll…
I trembled at the thought.
"Baby?" My mother's voice shook me from my thoughts. I went to her, grabbing her robe on the way, and helped her out of the tub. I helped her dry off and walked her to her bedroom, where I helped her get dressed and get back into bed again.
"Mom, I'm gonna make you some soup and then some chicken for Father. Would you like for me to bring your soup to you in here?" I asked, rubbing her upper arm.
"Oh baby yes. You are an amazing cook. I wanna sleep a little longer though."
"Sure thing," I said as I stood up. This would give me enough time to clean around the house.
"Baby?"
"Yes mom…"
"You're too good. I don't deserve you. He doesn't deserve you. We don't deserve you as a daughter."
She started crying. As the tears fell from her eyes I held mine back. I sat back down on the bed.
"Mom, don't say that." My voice betrayed me and it broke mid sentence.
"It's the truth. But I have hopes. High hopes for you baby. I've been..." she started to whisper as if someone would hear her. She looked around and then back at me.
"I've been saving some money for you baby," she said and took my hand. "All for you baby."
I didn't know what she was talking about. Father rarely gave her money and the little he did give her was hardly enough for food.
"Mom don't worry, I'm gonna get us out of here," I whispered. You can't even trust the damn walls in this house.
"What?" She asked incredulously.
"I'm gonna get us out of here. I've been signing up for all these scholarships and federal help. Mom we can run to California. I can go to college there and we can both get a shitty apartment and shitty jobs. We would be broke for a while, but we could make it on our own. Mom…" I said, squeezing her hand and placing it over my heart. "We can be free," I said. She let out a shaky sigh.
"Free mom. FREE!" She gulped and sat up.
"Oh my baby. My sweet Bella," she whispered and gently kissed my forehead.
I spent the rest of the morning cleaning the house. It was amazing how dirty it had gotten. I played my mp3 player while I cleaned, always looking out the window, just in case Father decided to come home early. Port Angeles was an hour away and the shift he was on usually went from midnight until noon. It was a grueling shift, but Father said it paid well so he usually didn't complain about it.
I didn't complain either, because it meant I could sleep well, without always having to keep one eye open. He would come home, eat and watch some TV, and then spend the rest of the day asleep. I wasn't a loud person and neither was my mom, so he always stayed asleep. It was heaven.
I made some soup for Mom and some fried chicken for Father.
I listened to my mp3 player the whole time. I thanked and loved Jacob for giving it to me on my 13th birthday. He had stolen it and he wasn't ashamed of himself at all. He was broke and I was his best friend and turning 13. At least that was his excuse when I lectured him about it, trying to explain that it was wrong. He was only 11 and too young to go to jail.
We didn't, and don't, have the same taste in music. He's more of a rapper wanna-be and I can't stand that crap. But it didn't matter to either of us. When he gave it to me he said he wanted to help me escape and block everything out.
Jake was the only one that knew about my home life. He comforted me and insisted we run away together. But we were both underage and had no money. What the hell were we going to do? When he told me that Billy had decided to try his luck in business and that it involved them moving to New Mexico, I broke down. He pleaded for my forgiveness, but there was nothing to forgive. It wasn't his fault. It was the first time I had seen tough-ass Jacob Black cry.
He also stole the laptop I have. It was the shit when he got it for me. Now its five years too old, but it still works. I rarely use it. Jake loved telling me about how he almost got caught stealing it. He was so proud of himself. Jake is a bit immature and a trouble maker, but he's a good kid and has a big heart. Everything he stole or got in trouble for, was for me. He stole clothes, books, CDs, and my green sweater.
Half of the stuff I still have is from Jake, and it still fits and works. I make sure to care for those things as my life depended on it. Even if I do feel guilty about what he did, it was nice having someone think about me and do things for me, even if they were illegal. I couldn't help being selfish for once. I felt special.
I miss Jake.
By 1 PM Father was still not home. I took Mom her soup and she slowly ate it and went back to sleep, promising me she would cook me a big meal tomorrow. I doubted it, but didn't question her.
Father finally came home around two, looking worn out. He had bags under his eyes and stubble that needed shaving. He didn't say anything or look at me. He ate his food, showered and went to sleep on the couch with the TV turned on to some basketball game. He acted as if he didn't do anything to me.
He acts like I don't mind the things he does. He acts like tomorrow he won't do anything, even though I know he will. He doesn't care that I shake every time he says my name or every time he comes near me. He acts like there's nothing wrong.
There is nothing wrong.
I'm still alive, aren't I?
That's just it.
Help, I'm still alive.
How dare he act like nothing happened? How dare he do this to me? How dare he? He doesn't even know he humiliated me in front of Edward.
I was suddenly shadowed in a bad mood. I huffed and cursed in my head. I didn't know what was wrong with me. It all just came out at once. That has never happened to me. But I couldn't stand the man in the living room. I angrily washed the dishes, staring out the kitchen window. Every time the crowd cheered or the referee blew the whistle, I felt anger. Anger grew inside of me like cancer. It spread throughout my body like a deadly and evil black cancer. I could smell my rotting soul and feel my heart bleeding. I was drowning in my own blood. I was lost and stuck under the surface of that cancer-wall between me and who I was supposed to be.
I was losing.
I was dying.
He started snoring.
I got angrier.
At least he can sleep.
I took a knife from the sink and firmly held it in my hand. I walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer bottle and slowly walked to where he was. I made sure not to make any sound as I made my way to him.
What are you doing Bella? You want to die? Go back? What are you doing? What's the knife for?
I ignored my mind. I ignored the nausea. I ignored myself. This isn't me, it's the cancer. It's the cancer taking control… and I'm letting it.
My mom is sick.
I'm sick.
It's the cancer.
I'm sick of him.
I took small and gentle steps toward Father. He had his mouth open and an empty beer bottle in his hand. He had taken a piece of cake to the living room, but fell asleep before he even tried it.
I stared at him. He snored like a damn lion.
Anger can be overwhelming. You can get lost it in if you bottle it up for too long.
I held the knife up with its sharp end pointing to the ceiling. It created a shadow on his face.
Have you lost your mind?
I stared at the shadow on his face. I could feel the tears burning my eyes, and the lump in my throat. My heart was pounding against my chest.
Father suddenly opened his eyes and before he could see, I held the knife's handle towards him.
"What the hell?" He asked, sounding groggy. He rubbed his eyes and looked at me again.
"What's that for Isabella?" He said, staring at the knife.
"Your cake. I thought you would need it." I was surprised at how calm my voice was… too calm… almost nice… frightening…
"Um… uh… okay… I already have a fork," he said, scratching his head. I think he was more surprised and confused than I was. I placed the cake knife on the small table in front of him.
"I know, and I also brought you another beer," I said nicely, and held the bottle in front of him. He furrowed his eye brows, but took it. He gently handed me the empty beer bottle and I turned, without saying a word, and headed back to the kitchen.
I threw the bottle away and ran to my room. I shut the door behind me, locking it, and threw myself on my bed. I buried my face into my pillow and screamed. I screamed as loud as I could. My sounds were muffled by my pillow. I cried and screamed and punched my bed over and over again. I lay there for a few minutes, soaking my pillow in tears and saliva.
"What's wrong with me?" I cried. "What's wrong with me?" I whispered to the nothing and cried into my hands.
I needed to distract myself. This is more than I can take. I sat up and wiped my face. I was breathing heavily and I was still angry. I stood up, put on a raggedy shirt, put my hair up in a pony tail and grabbed my mp3 player. I took my paint and brushes out and grabbed the blank canvas Mom gave me for Christmas.
I usually don't paint. I'd rather sketch, but painting has its uses. I angrily ruined the canvas with paint and continued to do so until my arms became tired. When I was finished, I did what I usually do when I draw, I didn't look at what I painted. I just left it to dry. I washed my hands and arms, though they would still be stained afterwards, and dried up. I took my raggedy shirt off and drew it in the hamper. I grabbed my mp3 player and fell on my bed.
I was exhausted. I hadn't dealt with my actions from earlier. I should talk to someone. I am not this.
I fell asleep.
I can't remember what I was dreaming about, and I have no idea how long I slept for. All I know now is that Blue October's A Quiet Mind is playing in my ears and there is knocking in the background.
Huh?
With my eyes still closed, I paused the song. There was the knocking sound again. I opened my eyes and with my blurry vision I made out a figure outside my balcony door.
"What the hell?" I grabbed my glasses from my night stand and quickly sat up.
It was dark, but I could still see Edward outside my balcony door. How could I mistake that mess of hair and slim figure for anyone else? He knocked again and waved at me.
Jackass.
I sighed and I walked to the balcony door.
"What are you doing here?" I asked angrily and he smiled. Damn him and his stupid crooked smile.
"Why did you lock your door?" He asked, confused.
"Because there is a psycho on the loose, sneaking into people's bedrooms and sleeping in their beds!" I yelled and he grinned.
"Don't worry, I think they caught him. Open the door Bella… please!" He said.
I rolled my eyes. I took a look at the time on the clock on my night stand. It was thirty minutes past midnight.
He was gone.
"His cruiser isn't here," Edward said. Now he reads minds?
I sighed and unlocked the door. He helped me open it and turning my back on him, I walked back into my room. I could feel him following me. I was about to ask him again what he was doing in my room, when I heard my mattress.
He lay down on it?
I turned and faced him with shock. I swear my mouth was open. How dare he?
"What the hell?"
"Just making myself at home…" he said, smiling, I huffed and he just shrugged.
"What are you doing here?"
"Just wanted to make sure you were alright."
"Well I am. You can go now."
"Why are you like that? Geez… rude," he said, and made himself more comfortable on my bed.
He wasn't leaving.
I stared at him and realized he was wearing a sleeveless white undershirt and a pair of black sweat pants. I could see his chest hair and I had to turn away before he could see my blush in the dark.
I'm a silly girl.
"Edward, how did you get here?" I asked.
"My dad was cleaning out our garage and I found my old bike. I decided to give it a test run and came over here."
"You decided to test your bike in the middle of the night and bother me?"
"Yep," he simply said.
"I don't believe you," I said, walking to my balcony door. "Where is it? Where's the bike?"
"Relax Bella; I hid it behind some bushes. We're fine."
"We're fine?"
"Yes. Now shut up and quit asking questions," he said. I rolled my eyes again.
"Bella, why does it smell like paint in here?" He smiled.
"Were you getting high?" He asked, amused. I sighed loudly.
"Oh my god!" I threw my hands up in annoyance.
"I was kidding! But seriously why does it smell like paint?"
"I was painting."
"Um, that makes sense."
"The smell? Yes, it makes sense."
"Yeah, and your blue and black arms," he said, smiling. I looked down at my arms.
"Ugh. It didn't come out like I thought it would."
"Can I see?"
"See what?"
"Your painting."
"Um, no! Edward just…"
"Bella, its fine. You'll let me see it later. Sit with me," he said, patting the empty space next to him.
Who the hell does he think he is? I didn't move, shocked at his audacity. But he didn't seem to notice my annoyance with him and he didn't move a muscle. He looked around, and when he spotted my mp3 player, I knew it was bad. He grabbed it and I panicked.
"Please…"
I was worried he was going to break it.
"Chill Bella," he mumbled. I sat down next to him. I couldn't stand him messing with my mp3 player. What if he ruins it? What if he sees my taste in music? Nobody likes my music!
"Blue October?" He asked. I was surprised at the smile on his face.
"Yeah… know 'em?"
"Know them? They are the shiz! I went to a concert of theirs in Seattle. It was amazing. Justin sings his heart out live," he said and I smiled. I didn't know why all of a sudden I was excited. I bit down in my lower lip, trying to hide it.
"Really? Ugh… I wish I could see them in concert. I bet they're awesome."
"You've never seen them live? That's a crime if you a Blue fan!"
"I've never been to a concert. Heck, I've never been outside of Forks or Port Angeles, and I've only been to Port Angeles once." I said and he just stared at me. His mouth dropped open a little.
"Bella, going to Port Angeles is like going to a gas station for some people. You're seriously too sheltered," he said and went back to looking at my mp3 player.
"Yeah, don't you think I know that?" I huffed.
He just sighed, as if he was regretting what he had said, and continued scrolling through my playlist.
"This is so old school," he said, smiling. I rolled my eyes.
"Was it a Christmas present?"
"No, a friend gave it to me." This time he looked at me.
"Same friend that gave you the Beatles bracelet?"
"Yep."
"Where's the friend, if I might ask?" His voice was a little too serious.
"New Mexico."
"Hum…" I leaned back against the head board. He did the same. "Interpol, The Beatles, Bon Iver, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Arcade Fire, and Greg Laswell? Bella you sure you didn't steal my playlist?" He asked and I smiled like an idiot.
"Um… you like Van Morrison?" He asked, and I didn't understand the melancholy in his voice.
"Yeah… why?"
"Nah… I just thought I was the only one," he said lowly.
"Nope, don't think so highly of yourself Cullen. You aren't the only one with good taste in music." I said and he smiled.
"I see that." He gave me his honest smile again.
"What's your favorite song? Wait, Brown Eyed Girl?" I rolled my eyes and he chuckled.
"No, I'm more original than that! I love And It Stoned Me and Beside You," I said. I intentionally forgot to mention I'll Be Your Lover Too. That's my song. I wanna keep it that way.
Edward was silent for a while and then he sighed.
"My mother would listen to Morrison, all the time."
"Mrs. Cullen has good taste in music too," I said and he shook his head.
"No, not Esme. She's probably never heard of Van Morrison, she's more into eighties pop. That crap! I meant my real mom," he said. He was looking at my mp3 player, but I could tell it was because he just didn't want to look at me when he spoke. He had stopped pressing buttons and he wouldn't look toward me.
"Oh." I wasn't sure why Edward was telling me this, but I didn't mind. "Is that you how found his music?"
"Yeah… um… I… never mind," he said, shaking his head.
"No, tell me. You can't just start talking and then stop," I said and he smiled again.
"She would always tell me he was my dad, and I believed her. I would go around singing his songs and telling people he was my dad. I was such an idiot." He chuckled. It was weird hearing Edward reveal things about himself. He was always so closed and distant.
"You weren't an idiot, you were a kid. What would your real dad say?" I asked. But he didn't answer. Instead he changed the subject.
"Radiohead? I use to be obsessed with them. I played their The Bends album all the time until Emmett broke it, the asshole. I got so fucking pissed at him, I almost broke his nose." He chuckled. "You must think I'm a psycho."
"No, I'm thinking I would have broken his nose," I said and he turned to look at me. "I love that album."
He smiled his crooked smile and I had to look away so he wouldn't notice my blush. What am I doing?
You're having a music conversation with Edward. The asshole….
"Did he… say or do anything today?" Edward asked, serious now.
"No."
"That's good, right?"
"I guess. I won't wake up sore tomorrow!" I said with fake excitement, but he didn't smile.
"Um… since when does he…?" I knew what he was asking, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to answer.
"I'm not ready Edward. Just back off for a little while. I'm not even sure I want you to know. We aren't friend remember?" I was just being honest.
"I understand," He said lowly.
He stayed silent and I stared at my hands in my lap. I wasn't going to ask him again why he was in my room. I never seem to get an answer anyway. I'll just let him stay as long as he likes. He'll eventually tire of me and leave. We said nothing for a while. I began to think of other things and wondered if Mom was alright since I had slept all day. I felt lazy but I wasn't sleepy at all. It was a bad idea, that nap.
"Are you scared of him?" Edward asked, snapping my attention back to him. I looked him in the eyes. They were serious… soft, and waiting for my answer. I sighed deeply, but I didn't look away from him like I usually would have done.
"All the time," I said in a broken whisper and he didn't look away.
He shook his head and sighed. He pressed the back of his head against the head board and returned to my mp3 player.
"Ozzy Osbourne?" He asked with a wide smile and furrowed eyes.
"What? Is a girl not allowed to rock?" I asked. He chuckled.
"Yeah, I guess they can rock." He laughed and put my mp3 player back on my night stand.
"You shouldn't live in fear, Bella. It's not right," he said, and I looked away.
"Uh well… I don't know any other way to live," I whispered, looking down at my hands again. I pretended to pick at my nails. "It's normal in my world." He sighed.
"There is another world out there. You should check it out sometime."
"I'll try." I chuckled dryly.
"You're eighteen… you can..."
"No, not right now."
"Why not? You're legally free to go!"
"It's complicated."
"I'm sure I can keep up."
I took a deep breath, unsure why I was about to answer him. I decided to leave him guessing with an indirect answer.
"It's like… birds."
"Birds?"
"Yeah, the mother bird feeds the babies until they are ready to fly on their own. She stays with them in their nest even if it rains or snows. And then after they are ready, she just moves on and they are fine without her. Well, I'm the opposite and the same at the same time."
"Huh?" He looked confused and I chuckled.
"I told you it was complicated… I'm the baby bird and I switched places with the mother bird." I said. He just furrowed his eyebrows more and I smiled.
"You know I'm going to think about that for the rest of the night and not sleep until I figure it out?"
"You shouldn't have asked then," I said, and he rolled his eyes. We sat in silence again for a long time. After a while the silence stopped bothering me. It was actually enjoyable… until Edward yawned.
"It's late. You should go home now," I said and he nodded.
"I guess you're right," he said and got off my bed.
"See you around Mama Bird. Or should I say Mama Swan?" He asked. I gave him a look that made him chuckle.
He left the same way he arrived.
The next day was the same. I made sure to stay in a better mood. I didn't want to have another "episode" so I just stayed away from everything.
Mom did feel better and she even made enchiladas. It was the "big meal" she promised me. I locked myself away before Father got home. I did see him get out of his police cruiser, looking a bit more tired than the day before and I didn't feel bad that I rejoiced in my father's fatigue. It meant that we were safe.
I spent the afternoon watching TV in my room, something I hadn't done in a while. I didn't even know what shows were on. I sketched a little, and before I could call it a night there was a knock at my balcony door…again.
What?
I walked to the window as Edward kept knocking even though he had already seen me.
"Shh!" I waved at him and he immediately stopped. I opened the door and he just waltzed in as if he owned the place, carrying what looked like a black shirt in his hands.
"Edward what are you doing here? The last two nights you had a few somewhat reasonable explanations for showing up here, but now what?" I asked, and he unfolded the shirt he was carrying.
"I had to bring you this," he said and I couldn't help but smile. It was a Radiohead t-shirt. "I got it a few years ago, but I outgrew it. It might fit you big, but I thought you would like it."
"Let me guess, you were cleaning out your closet and you decided to give it to me…"
"No, I looked for it," he said, smiling. I had to fight back my own stupid smile. I walked up to him and snatched it from his hands and I heard his light chuckle.
"I like it. I've never had a band's shirt. Thanks…" I whispered, and he just nodded. "But will you give me a real answer. Please, just… tell me the truth already. What are you doing here?" I asked.
He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. Just answer damn it!
"I'm giving myself a reason," he answered. I didn't understand.
"What?"
"You said I wasn't your friend and because of that I shouldn't care what happens to you."
"Yes… that hasn't changed."
"Well, that's why I'm here. I know something about you that isn't easy to forget. Bella, I'm an asshole. I'm not a very good person. I drink. I have done, and still do, drugs. I don't give a flying blue fuck about anybody else but me. But, for some strange and unknown reason… I um… I uh… I think… I might care about you. And you're right I shouldn't, because we aren't friends… but that's why I'm here. To change that… so I can have a reason to give a fuck."
I didn't believe him.
I believed him.
I don't know.
But why?
"You're here because you want to be my friend?" I asked, and I knew he could tell I didn't believe him. He smiled.
"Let's not use that word. It's cheesy and it doesn't really fit 'us'." He said and signaled the quotation marks with his fingers. "'Friends' go to the mall and do stupid shit together, and we don't. Um… you know what I mean?" He asked, scratching his neck.
"Um… sure," I said and he nodded.
"I understand."
"Good…" he said and sat on my bed.