Cullen's Hound
Disclaimer: Still don't own it.
Ch. 2: Tragedy and a Broken Jaw
BPOV
I had been doing my morning workout at school when the wind brought me the most delicious scent. It had been a combination of roses and spice that was both different and achingly familiar. The scent tugged at my heart with a sense of longing and home. There was something else there as well, but I quickly put to the back of my mind then continued my Tai Chi.
It was long before the breeze carried Mr. Thackeray's scent to me. I stopped my workout and waited patiently for his arrival. As soon as he was in front of me, my hand went instinctively up to cup his throat. It was an overly intimate position, but a necessary one.
"Your father called to say he would be late picking you up today. We should head inside and start class," he told me.
I nodded then linked my arm with his and together we went inside the Janitor's Closet the school had converted into my classroom. As usual, the lessons had been stimulating and the two of were often distracted as we strayed off on tangent subjects. In fact, we had been in the middle of a discussion about the so-called Haunted Summer after reading some of Lord Byron's poetry when Charlie arrived to pick me up.
Today was our bi-weekly father/daughter date night. After the men finished their discussion of my grades, I contentedly rested my head on Charlie's shoulder as we went out to the SUV that served as his Police Cruiser. Once I was settled in the passenger's seat, Bran, my Irish wolfhound, nuzzled my neck from the back seat. I giggled and scratched my only friend behind his left ear.
My father drove to Port Angeles and the trip passed in silence because neither one of us wanted him distracted while he was behind the wheel. Like all of our "dates," it started with a trip to the Spa for some pampering. Charlie was by no stretch of the imagination a Metrosexual, but years in the Marines and as a Cop, not to mention Martial Arts training gave him an appreciation for the stress relief of a good massage and sauna.
Unfortunately, for me, my pampering was extended to include a facial, and a Mani Pedi. It was his idea to make me feel all girly and special, instead of special needs. He knew, without my telling him that during these treatments was the only time I truly felt normal. Having been born with a strange genetic quirk that caused me to be deaf and blind, normal was pretty far from my daily existence.
Renee, my mother, had freaked out when old Doc Thompson told my parents about my condition. She couldn't handle having a freak for a child so disappeared from the hospital in the middle of the night. Two weeks later, Charlie received Divorce papers and a Termination of Parental Rights in the mail from her. He once told me a cried for approximately one hour after he opened the envelope the documents were in.
Nobody thought that he could raise a child like me on his own and maintain his career. They constantly tried to convince him to institutionalize me. But Charlie, my devoted father, was a stubborn bastard. He refused each time it was suggested. Instead, he fought all the harder to make my life as normal as possible. The creed we lived by became, "If you don't fit the World, then make the World fit you."
When you are born, or lose, one sense then the others develop to compensate. Without sight or hearing, my remaining senses had developed to such a degree that it crossed the border into freakish. My sense of touch especially so.
Charlie used my enhanced touch to teach me to communicate, first with Morse code when I was three, then to understand speech by touching someone's throat. That was when he had someone come in and teach me sign language and how to read brail. When I was six, he noticed the other kids picking on me when he picked my up from the Babysitter's. That night he started teaching me Tai Chi Chuan and Aikido.
It was the same night that David Carson showed up on our doorstep with a puppy named Bran. He told Charlie that he'd read about me in a medical journal and wanted to help. The Doctors never figured out why my brain couldn't process the signals from optic nerves or inner ears. According to the extensive test they ran, everything was hooked up correctly in my head. They had named the condition after me, Swan's Syndrome.
David worked with an organization that provided Service Dogs to people with special needs. He became one of my father's best friends. While Charlie gave David a first hand account of my development, Bran and I bonded. Well, we did far more than bond but I'd always kept that a secret. Only Bran knew the truth and he couldn't tell.
After the Spa, Charlie and I dressed to the nines then ate dinner at Le Bella Italia. Normally not a fan of fungus, the Mushroom Ravioli was surprisingly good. Usually, Charlie took me dancing after dinner but I knew he had to testify in Court up in Seattle, tomorrow. The drive home had started off just as silently as journey here.
Suddenly I knew something was wrong. The SUV increased speed then wildly swayed from one side to the other. I felt it as the guardrail scraped along my side of the vehicle. The next thing I knew, the cruiser was briefly air born. There was a pain across my chest and in my head as the SUV impacted with something hard. The rusty metallic smell of blood was the last thing that registered before unconsciousness claimed me.
ChPOV
I groggily watched the red eyed demon come down the embankment toward my mangled cruiser. A tree branch had already punctured my lung, so I was goner either way. Thankfully, Bella was unconscious when the arrogant bastard reached my door.
"Kill me already, Felix, just leave my daughter alone," I choked out with a spray of blood.
"Our quarrel is with you, Charles, not a helpless cripple. Besides, she has no appeal to me as either food, or bed warmer," the sick fucker replied in his thick Italian accent.
He put his hand on the back of my skull then slammed it forward. A sickening crunch was the last thing I heard.
EsPOV
The children had gone hunting after school, so I decided that my husband and I needed a "date night." We had not gone out since just before our move here and we were long overdue. I slipped into my favorite Little Black Dress and decided to surprise Carlisle at the hospital.
The run to the hospital had been quick. I fixed my hair and make up then strolled inside. Carlisle was talking with Dr. Gerandy at the Nurse's Station. A bleached blonde whore…nurse, ogled him shamelessly. My low growl alerted my mate to my presence and he offered me the sexy smile that made my knees go weak.
I sauntered over to him and gave him a kiss. It was not a chaste one or an overly passionate one, but it told the hussy that this was my man. Carlisle chuckled softly at my blatant display territorialism.
The sliding glass doors to the Emergency Room opened the smell of blood and a flurry of activity accompanied them. EMT's wheeled in two gurneys. One held a dead man in his early forties and the other held still living teen-aged girl. Behind the gurneys were two Police Officers.
"Accident on the highway coming back from Port Angeles; Chief Swan was dead when we arrived. His daughter has possible broken ribs, lacerations to the head, a dislocated right shoulder and broken right forearm," the lead EMT stated succinctly.
"Any other casualties," Carlisle asked already moving toward the injured girl.
"Just the dog; Bran was slaughtered by the sick fuck that ran the Chief off the road. My guess is he tried to prevent the bastard from getting to close to the cruiser in case the Chief was still alive," one of the Police Officer's responded venomously.
"Obviously somebody didn't want the Chief to testify in Seattle tomorrow," the other one commented.
Instinctively I followed behind Carlisle and Dr. Gerandy. As I watched them examine the injured girl, Nurse Trollop had to put in her two cents worth.
"Too bad about Charlie, but at least this pathetic wretch can be institutionalized like she should've been a long time ago. She was nothing but burden to her poor father," her whiney voice sneered.
Without warning, my hand shot out and the gratifying sound of bone snapping as I broke her jaw prevented her from making any further inane comments. Everyone else in the room momentarily stared in shock. I turned my attention back to the wounded harlot.
"All children are perfect in the eyes of God, no matter what unique challenges they bring with them. How dare you say something as horrid as that about another human being; especially one that is in the midst of tragedy; it only proves you are horrid person and lack the most basic skills your job requires," I practically yelled at her.
The others snapped out of their shock and more than a couple of them smirked. I turned then went back to the waiting room. An African-American woman in a wrinkled blouse and slacks was the only other person there. She had the look of somebody who had fought the system too many times and was tired to the depths of her soul.
"That bitch needed to be knocked down a peg or two," she commented with a hint of a smile.
"As soon as I heard about Charlie, I knew the vultures in this town would start to circle. With nobody left in her family, the State Hospital is the only place that has space for her," the woman let out a weary sigh as she shook her head.
Everything about my companion screamed Social Worker. My heart broke for the girl whose world had just been shattered. I listened as the woman talked to various foster families to see if any had room for a teen with special needs. One foster mother asked about what kind of special needs the teen had. The apathetic response the social worker provided was, "Bella's retarded."
I felt my anger rise once again but didn't lash out. Instead, I took a deep breath and looked at the civil servant.
"My husband, Dr. Cullen, and I already adopted five teens and would be more than happy to provide a home for Bella Swan," I said slightly louder than was necessary.
The woman looked shocked but quickly composed herself. Carlisle joined us and supported my decision. That was all that was needed, the social worker agreed to push through the paperwork. She was pleased to be rid of an albatross of a case as Bella Swan, her words, not mine.
Something about the way she tap danced around the issue of Bella's disability as we spoke with her made me believe it might not be something else entirely. A glance at my husband showed that the good doctor had been thinking along the same lines. We still needed to inform the children of our newest addition and set up a room. Once we signed the initial paperwork, Carlisle clocked out and we drove home.
Thanks to Alice's psychic visions, the others were already at home when we arrived. Before we had made it all the way into the house, five voices chimed that they were more than willing to embrace the human girl. From the telling glances directed at my second daughter, Rosalie, there was obviously something else going on. As soon as they explained about their first day at school, I understood.
The phone rang and interrupted our conversation. My husband answered it; thanks to a vampire's enhanced hearing, we were all able to hear the other end of the conversation.
"May I speak with Dr. Cullen, please," a male voice asked.
"This is Dr. Cullen, how may I help you," Carlisle responded. It was unusual for strangers to call our home.
"My name is David Carson and I was a good friend of Charlie and Bella Swan. I understand from one of his Officers that you're taking Bella in," David said in return.
"That is correct, now why did you need to speak with me," my husband asked patiently.
"I need to arrange a time for my team to come to your home to see what modifications need to be made as well as to drop off her new puppy. He will be an excellent service dog for her. I would also like her to meet the Dalton's. Their son was just born with Swan's Syndrome so I think she might be able to give them some perspective," the human replied.
Carlisle's expression became very understanding and he was enthusiastic when he spoke again.
"Bella will be in the hospital for another few days and my wife wanted to start setting up her room. Could you come out in the morning with your team and the dog, I think my family might want to meet you as well. As far as the Dalton's are concerned, I would ask that you wait a week. Is there anything you can tell me about Bella? The social worker was not forthcoming with information," he spoke with tone that was a cross between concerned Doctor and protective father.
"Charlie kept a detailed journal, everything you need to know is in there," Mr. Carson responded.
The conversation ended with Carson explaining that because of the way she was treated in the past, Bella had trust issues. We waited for my husband to elaborate on Bella's condition. First, he ran upstairs then returned with an old medical journal. He told us about Swan's Syndrome and had us read the article.
There was still much to do before we brought Bella home. I suggested that we go over to the Swan house and get some of her belongings. We all wanted her to feel comfortable here.