A/N: Hey, sorry for the delay in updates but I went to Wales and the wifi was shockingly bad!
Bella:
I can feel in my body
Chains on me are breaking loose
I can feel in my body
Standing tall I make the moves
As I'm trying to figure my way back to my room after dinner, I see the pregnant girl – Rosalie – walking the same way as me.
"I'm guessing you're in the room opposite me?" Rosalie asks as we start ascending the stairs.
"Uh, yeah, how d'you know?" I ask wearily.
"You're pregnant. They put us pregnant ones on the top floor in hopes the noise won't wake the others," Rosalie replies, shrugging her shoulders.
"While that makes sense, surely it's not good to have to walk all the way up these stairs?" I frown. We've just reached the third floor and I'm already tired, I can't imagine doing this while heavily pregnant.
"You get used to it," Rosalie comments, shrugging again.
"Are we the only pregnant ones in the house?" I ask, noticing Rosalie rubs her stomach lovingly.
"Yep. Though soon it'll only be you," Rosalie tells me.
When we finally reach the fourth floor, I mutter goodbye to Rosalie and head into my room.
I'm sure it'll take me a while to get used to not having to make dinner, having my own room, and not having to live in fear of my father. I still can't believe my mother just ran away. Surely she can be charged with something? Neglect?
I change into pyjamas, my stomach still flat so my clothes fit fairly well, and glance over at my ultrasound pictures. Thinking about my baby is the only thing that brings a smile to my face.
*******SML*******
I don't have to go to school next day, Esme said I could have the day off to get used to the new town.
I'm not complaining.
"So, how far along are you?" Esme gushes as I'm eating breakfast.
"Three weeks," I tell her, shovelling some cereal into my mouth.
Edward and Alice enter the kitchen, and I hold in my laughter when Edward walks into the table. His glasses slip down his nose and he hastily pushes them up before they fall off. I notice there's already some sellotape on them, holding them together.
"Hey Bella! Aren't you coming to school today?" Alice pouts when she notices my pyjamas.
Yeah, she's a real girly-girl.
"Nope. I'm getting used to the mansion," I reply, reaching for some toast.
What? I'm eating for two now.
Edward sits down opposite me, though with more grace than last night. Alice rambles on about clothes or something, so I tune her out.
"You'll get used to Alice, too," Rosalie says quietly to me. I jump a little, so absorbed in my own bubble that I didn't notice her enter the dining room.
"She's very…girly," I grimace, glancing over at her.
"You driving today, Eddie?" Rosalie asks, looking up at Edward. Or Eddie. Whatever.
"Yeah, and don't call me Eddie," he replies, sending a weak glare at Rosalie.
"Whatever, Eddie," Rosalie replies, grabbing some toast.
Shortly after Angela, Bree, Jacob and Seth arrive, all helping themselves to some breakfast.
"Wish we got a day off, too," Seth sighs, looking at me with jealousy.
"Just get knocked up. Bam, days off whenever you have morning sickness. It's great," Rosalie says to him sarcastically.
As they all start bickering I make my way back upstairs to my bedroom, so that I can get dressed.
"Bella? Could we have a word with you?" Esme says from the other side of my door.
"Yeah, sure, come in," I tell her, buttoning up my shirt and opening the door.
Esme and Carlisle walk in, taking a seat on the sofa against the wall. I sit, cross-legged, on the bed.
"What did you want to talk about?" I ask them, just a little nervous.
"We thought it might be beneficial it you went to see a therapist," Carlisle says.
"A therapist?" I repeat. "Why?"
"We know what you've been through, dear, and we think it'll help," Esme says soothingly.
It doesn't soothe me.
"I don't need a fucking therapist! My parents were shit, I know that! I don't need to fucking talk about it!" I shout, instantly regretting my words.
Esme looks sad and Carlisle looks a little shocked.
"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have been so rude!" I mutter, cowering into the bed.
I'm such a fucking idiot.
Esme slowly approaches the bed, so I shuffle back, up against the headboard.
"It's ok, Bella, it's alright. We just want to try and help, that's all. It's completely your choice, though," Esme says kindly.
"You're not going to hit me?" I whisper, my hands on my stomach.
"What? Of course not!" Esme says, sitting next to me and wrapping her arm around me. "Carlisle and I only want the best for you and your baby."
"You think seeing a therapist would help?" I ask tentatively.
"We do," Esme smiles at me, squeezing me into a hug. I can't remember the last time I was hugged so motherly.
*******SML*******
The house becomes increasingly noisy as everyone gets home from school; though I notice Jacob and Angela aren't here.
"Jacob's at football practise and Angela's part of the book club," Alice says as she sits next to me on the sofa.
I let her change the channel, since I wasn't really watching the TV anyway.
Slowly the living room fills up with everyone else, and I notice Edward sitting on the armchair in the corner, reading a comic book.
"Hey, Eddie, that chair is reserved for the pregnant," Rosalie says as she walks in. Casting a glance at me, she adds, "The heavily pregnant. Man, it'll take a while to get used to not being the only pregnant one in the house."
Edward quickly obliges and moves to the only free seat, next to me. "Don't call me Eddie," he huffs, going back to his comic book. Now that he's closer, I can see it's Captain America.
"Go save the world, comic book guy!" Rosalie chuckles.
Before Edward can reply, however, Alice cuts in. "Guys! If you wanna fight, mouth the words or fight somewhere else. I'm trying to watch this!" she pouts, waving at the TV. I turn and see she's watching some fashion programme.
Great.
I suffer through the programme for five torturously long minutes before getting up and wandering into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. Just as I'm about to head upstairs I meet Rosalie in the hallway.
"You get used to the fashion channel eventually," Rosalie says, chuckling.
"I'd rather watch fucking paint dry," I reply, completely serious.
A/N: Thoughts? :D
Review please!
Lyrics: Hurting by Friendly Fires