Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No Copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by HollettLA

Higher

Chapter Thirty-Three: Wait

By the time I'd made it upstairs, I was full on sobbing, fumbling with my keys.

Emmett must have heard me crying. He tore open the door to usher me inside. I could barely breathe, choking on my sobs as he sat me down onto the couch. "Bella, what happened?" He shook me by my biceps. "Calm down."

"Ed-Edward—" When I met his gaze, I broke down even more, crying harder.

"Shhh." Emmett hugged me. "Just…tell me."

"What happened?" Jasper entered the room with a bowl of cereal. "Where's Edward?"

I hiccupped and shook my head.

Emmett wiped my tears again. "Take a deep breath, try to relax." He rubbed my back.

"No," I said, standing to get to the door. "I have to stop him."

Emmett caught me around the waist, pulling me back.

"Let me go!" I fought him.

He tightened his hold. "Relax!"

I stiffened, cringing before I just went limp to cry some more. Jasper had moved to stand in front of the door, blocking my exit anyhow.

"This guy…I don't know. He was a Blood…he was bothering me." I covered my eyes with my palms. "Edward went after him…with Los and them." Sniffling, I relaxed a little bit. "He's gonna get in trouble, and it's all because of me."

"Listen—" Emmett massaged my shoulder "—Edward's not stupid. All right?"

"Still…What if he…" I didn't know how to continue.

Truth be told, I didn't give a fuck about Nes or what he'd done anymore. I cared about my boyfriend getting locked up again—going to prison, leaving me because he has a horrible temper and always feels the need to protect me.

Whenever anyone looks at me, Edward has to say something. I don't even notice their eyes. I never care, but Edward does. It's the stupidest shit, and he's gotten into so many confrontations, fights…shouting matches, and now…?

I'm not even that pretty. I'm nothing special.

I know the gun that stays in the van isn't decorative.

I know for a fact that Edward gets along with everyone—no matter which gang they're from. He seems to have friends everywhere.

But I'm trouble.

I cause all of the conflicts he's had since I've met him.

For the first time ever, I hated living here, feeling the need to get away. Edward would be safe. He'd have nothing to worry about if I wasn't around. Maybe he wouldn't hustle either. His life would be simpler.

Again, he'd have nothing to worry about if I wasn't around.

I'm not worth all this—the danger he puts himself in.

Panic crawled up my neck and threatened to suffocate me.

"I'll go look for him." Jasper placed his bowl onto the coffee table. "Youse stay here."

"No!" Emmett shouted. "Wait…wait it out." He nodded. "Ed ain't dumb. He's with Los and them…We don't know what's goin' on out there."

No longer sobbing, tears quietly ran down my cheeks as I stared to the floor.

I was stuck—between a rock and a hard place again—and I needed Edward.

"What the fuck?" I cried, palming my face.

"Fuck that!" Jazz shouted. "That's Ed out there, man. We don't know what's going on. We're not gonna have his back, though? That's our boy. We need'a have his back. He'd have ours."

"A Blood fucked with Bella. Los and them are Crips, and Edward's been running with them. They all have his back. What the fuck do you think is gonna happen—what's happening right now?" Emmett ranted. "You wanna get shot? Cut up by some razor? Be in some brawl? Get arrested?" He chuckled without humor.

"Oh God—" I ran for the door again, and this time I managed to turn the knob before Emmett accosted me.

"Fuck this!" Jasper ran out while Emmett still had me.

"Jazz!" He tossed me onto the sofa and then took off.

I chased Emmett into the hall.

Once more—when he faced me—I looked to his left and his right to see where I'd be able to get around him.

"Get inside!" He pointed.

I shook my head. "Please—"

"Go!" He lifted me, and I beat at his back.

"I fucking hate you!" I shouted.

Emmett kicked the door closed. "Hate me. That's fine. There's nothing you can do—nothin' Jazz can do either!" he yelled at me. "So, just fuckin' sit there and hate me!"

I sniffled, sinking farther into the couch to cry into the cushions.

"This fuckin' neighborhood, man!" Emmett punched the wall. "I fucking hate it here!"

I agreed, but I didn't say anything.

"For real, we have no business being here, and I'm really bein' real!" He was ranting again. "We don't roll wit' none of them. Not for nothing, I think we're the only white people on this fucking block!" He groaned. "We belong with our own people, where there's less crime—back in Bensonhurst. Fuck this cesspool."

Being the cracker in the cookie jar never bothered me. It still has no effect on me. I've been living here for over six months, and nothing as serious as this has ever happened before. Just because we're a lighter skin tone than those around us doesn't make us targets or anything.

People respect Edward, and it has nothing to do with his skin color, although I'm not really sure why either.

Everybody knows him. Everybody is polite to him.

I'm his only problem.

Emmett continued to rant and rave, and I needed to do something—anything.

Then my eyes traveled south again, landing on the red denim I wore.

Suddenly hating the color, I ran to our bedroom to lock the door, needing to change.

After I was in a pair of sweats and one of Edward's t-shirts, I tried my best to stuff my entire outfit into the small trash can while I sobbed.

But then I jumped, letting out a shriek when I heard a few rapid pops in the distance. "Emmett!" I crawled for the door, and he met me in the hallway. "What—what—" I'd heard those sounds before, gunfire.

"Shhh. We don't know anything—relax." His face was pale, and I felt nauseated.

Knowing I was about to puke, I tried to get to the toilet as fast as possible. I almost missed, but nothing really came out.

"You okay?" Emmett asked a stupid question, but then I heard tires screeching.

We both sped into the living room. I went to the door while Emmett tore the screen up to stare down. "Ed's back—"

"Edward!" I tried my best not to fall down the stairs with how fast I was going.

He met me before I got outside, caught me with his arms.

Frantic, I clawed at him. "Edward. Edward—" I looked to my hand to see that it was red…blood red.

Before I could ask or look, Edward's lips crashed to mine, but I pulled away to see his arm. He was…he was fucking shot. "Oh my God!" I didn't know what to do—sobbing and gasping for air, I stared at his face.

"I'm fine," Edward said, and his face was totally calm. "Shit grazed me, baby. I'm good." He gathered me into his arms, but he was bleeding so much.

"Ed—" Speechless, I collapsed back onto a step.

"Come on. Help me patch this up." Like it was nothing, like it was just a black eye, Edward grabbed my hand with his good arm to lift me up.

My knees were weak, but I tried my best to stand, not wanting Edward to have to carry me.

"Yo…where's Jazz?" Emmett boomed.

"What?" Edward shouted.

"Jazz—Jasper went out lookin' for you!" Emmett ran down the steps. "What happened?"

"Stay here." Edward kissed my forehead, half-turning for the door. "I'll look for him."

"No!" I clung onto his T-shirt, swearing I was about to have a heart attack, but then the door behind Edward opened.

Jasper had come back, and he looked just fine. "Yo!" He widened his arms. "What the fuck, bro?" He inspected Edward's wound.

Edward let out a relieved breath. "Let's get upstairs—"

Confusion, worry, and anxiety tore through me, and I didn't even know how I'd walked back up to the apartment.

But I made it—following after Emmett, knowing Edward and Jasper were behind me.

Emmett and Jasper fired off question after question, but Edward remained silent—only telling them to mind their business as he went into the bathroom. That didn't placate them, though. That's when Edward said he was caught in a drive-by, which actually appeased the two. Edward's cousin and his friend let out groans but otherwise relaxed.

That explanation only made my heart speed up.

I was right behind Edward, trying not to cry, trying to register that my love stood right before me, trying to remind myself that he was fine.

Edward took off his jacket and his work shirt, and there was a gash, which looked really deep. "Fuck." He stared at it in the mirror. "I'mma hafta get this tat fixed—"

"What happened?" I whispered, gawking at his bicep.

Edward smirked, palming my cheeks. "Don't worry about it."

"No!" I shook my head. "That-that won't work this time. Tell me! What—"

He groaned. "Los showed me who that dude was. Honest to God…" he laughed. "I only planned to rough him up, but then…Los and them hopped out, started shooting. They fuckin' shot back. I shot back…It happened within a minute at best. It's over now—no worries. I got rid of my gun."

"You were shot!" I cried. "Why even—that guy didn't do anything. He—that was Irina's cousin—"

"He's dead now," Edward said. "Shit…" He just turned from me, leaving the bathroom.

I followed, stomping my feet after him.

"Jazz, take the van to the garage for me?" He tossed Jasper his keys. "Just let it sit there a few days."

"Nah…fuckin' pigs have probably flooded the avenue," he replied.

As if on cue, we all tried to listen for sirens, but we didn't hear any.

"You'll be good. Just take Third Avenue." Edward smiled. "You don't wanna do it—" He went to leave, fucking shirtless and bloody. "I'll go."

"You're crazy!" I shouted, pulling him back.

"I got it." Jasper stole his keys.

"Thanks, man." Edward turned back for the bathroom.

"Hello!" I tried to get in his face, but I didn't know what to say—shock, anger, and all those worrisome thoughts still in my head.

"Can you help me?" Edward asked.

"The cops—"

"Bella—" he shook me "—you need to relax. It's done. It happened. Now help me fix my arm."

I swallowed my cry, but that didn't help.

I broke down in tears again, sinking to the floor, as something else came to mind. "He's dead…He was just a kid. He's dead...because of me, because—because—"

Edward grabbed my arm and lifted me. "Bloods and Crips shoot at each other all the time. The cops probably weren't even called. Well, they will be…to scrape that kid off the sidewalk, but come on. You see what it's like out there. What were you doing walking around after dark anyway?"

I didn't answer him.

"Bella, look at me." He placed his hand under my jaw. Then he let out a groan as he kissed me deep. "I love you," he whispered against my lips.

"I was looking for a job—it got late." My voice came back.

"I told you—you don't need a job." He pecked my lips once more.

"Yo…take a swig of this shit." Emmett handed Edward a bottle of booze.

"Good lookin' out. You wanna stitch up my arm for me?" he asked his cousin.

Emmett grimaced. "Nah, man. We should shoot by the emergency room. It don't look like a bullet hole."

Edward sucked his teeth. "Get me a needle and thread then."

Emmett agreed, walking away from us.

"Damn, man." Edward turned from me to place a towel to his arm.

Quietly, still in a state of shock, I sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

"Everything's gonna be fine." He sipped from the bottle, slightly wincing as he swallowed. "My arm'll be good in no time—a few days. Jazz is gonna hide the van…Damn, I gotta tell my dad it broke down or some shit. I dunno if there's bullet holes or whatever." He leaned over the bathtub to pour some vodka into his wound. "Fuck!"

I watched as the blood, which looked pink now, flowed down into the drain.

"Here you go." Emmett came in to place thread with a sewing needle and scissors on the sink.

"Thanks." Edward huffed, meeting my gaze. "Bella, I'm fine."

Unable to speak, I just nodded, my vision blurred from my tears.

"Thread that up for me, baby." Edward bared his teeth, pouring more liquor onto his arm. "Gotta soak it with some of this." He gave me the bottle.

My hands shook as I tried to do as he said.