Hello friends. Once again I'm apologizing for the delay. This chapter was really hard to write and a lot of important information, answers, and connections had to be made. It's a little graphic just in case you're sensitive to that stuff. But this is finally one of the bigger reveals completed. It's a lot longer than my usual update so I hope this makes up a teeny weeny bit for my tardiness. Luckily, I'll be getting a lot more time to write soon. I have a surgery coming up that puts me on bed rest for a while - plenty of down time for some serious chapters! So sorry, once again my friends. I promise I won't keep you waiting this long ever again if I can help it! Enjoy. xo
I felt my eyes crack open as my body resurfaced from a deep sleep. I was breathing in Bella - my cheek resting against her chest. The way her body was wrapped protectively around me was so much more than I could have ever asked for. Some how she just knew what I needed. I'd slept so soundly. No dreams, no episodes. Just plain, perfect, sleep. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept so deeply.
The events of the early morning were embarrassing at best. I knew as soon as the haze cleared and Bella's frightened expression appeared before me in the bathroom that I had some explaining to do. Though her eyes gave her fear and panic away, she was outwardly so calm and focused. Caring only that I was taken care of, that I was resting. She didn't leave me, she didn't push me, she was just...Bella. She set her fear aside to stay with me.
How did I deserve her?
I stretched my calves out as I came to, placing a soft kiss on Bella's skin before lifting my head to look at her. I was surprised to find her already awake.
"Hi." I whispered.
"Hi." she smiled at me, running a hand through my hair. "Did you sleep okay?" Her expression seemed to brace itself for my answer.
"Better than I can remember." I smiled. It was the truth.
She sighed as if in relief.. "Good."
"Did you sleep at all?" I asked, truly curious. I looked at the bedside clock - it was almost nine thirty. The extra couple hours of sleep were so needed - but I felt horrible realizing how long I'd kept Bella trapped in this position underneath me. "I'm sorry I-"
She silenced me with her finger over my lips and a small smile.
"It's okay, Edward. Too much on my mind anyway, I couldn't have slept more if I tried."
I sighed. "It's my fault."
She shook her head at me. "No, it's alright. I slept well last night and I'm an early riser usually anyway. I promise you, I'm fine. Although someone did wear me out a little last night..."
She cracked a grin at me. Her smile made my anxiety subside a little bit.
"Oh yeah?" I smirked, moving up to place a kiss on her neck.
"Yeah, I don't know if you know him." she shrugged. "He's my boyfriend. You might have seen him around...he's a local."
I stilled a moment at her words, grinning. I was beyond thrilled to hear her say it. It was still unreal to me that she'd said yes.
I kissed her nose.
"He's a lucky son of a bitch."
She smiled and laughed softly at me, but it didn't reach her eyes. She seemed alright, but something felt off.
"You okay?"
Her eyes met mine and she nodded, but did not smile. "Yeah, just...worried about you."
Her hand came up to stroke my face gently. Her expression was filled with concern and something else I couldn't quite place. I let out the breath I'd been holding. I had so much to tell her.
I opened my mouth to speak but Bella cut me off.
"Breakfast." she said, kissing my cheek. "Breakfast first."
The two of us rolled out of bed - Bella with more morning ease than I. I couldn't help but let my eyes linger on her cute little ass as she wiggled into a pair of jeans while simultaneously brushing her teeth. I gave Bosley a good rub down before finding my own clothes and tooth brush. He was still a little tense from earlier, and paced around me more than usual. He waited patiently for me before heading down the stairs.
"I'm letting Bos out." I said, peeking into the bathroom. Bella jumped a little, her focus on her morning meds.
"Meet you down there." she said with a weak smile, not really meeting my eyes.
I wondered if she was alright. My insides started to turn again as I made my way down the stairs, thinking all the while about the conversation I knew I had to have with her today. How would she react? Would she leave? Would this be over for her once she knew what I'd done?
Was I ready for this?
There was no way around it in my mind. Now that she'd seen me...I mean really fucking seen my shit this morning... I had to explain. I had to let go. We couldn't move forward unless we broke through this wall.
I opened the door for Bos, cold winter air rushing in and stilling my thoughts for a moment. I looked out the door window out onto the water. Everything was calm outside. Serene. Quiet. Frosted and beautiful.
A sort of peace washed over me.
I was in love with Bella. And she was in love with me.
And it was my turn to be completely open with her, no matter how painful it might feel. And if she wanted out...I'd let her go. It would break me, but if it was what was best for her, I'd let her go. She had every right to change her mind. I was just hoping to God she wouldn't.
I watched Bosley scurry to take his morning dump and then rush back inside. It was freaking cold out. My skin was covered in goosebumps just waiting for him behind the door. I heard Bella's footsteps on the stairs as I dried off his paws.
"Coffee?"
"God, yes." I answered. As well as I slept in the few hours Bella held me, I was still pretty beat.
I offered to help her find something for us to eat but she waved me off, poking through my refrigerator to find some things to create with. The woman was a damn good cook, I let her do her thing. I also sort of loved watching her use my kitchen like she was right at home. Because to me, she was.
While Bella tinkered around in the kitchen, I went to the living room to make a fire. Bosley was quick to join me, having learned over time that if the fire was started, he'd have a prime napping spot right in front of it. A quiet came over the house. I wanted to talk to Bella; fall into our usual banter like we usually did. But no sound came from the kitchen and I was lost for words as I stacked dry wood in the fireplace. Though she insisted I hadn't, I was nervous that I'd scared her away this morning. And she didn't even know the whole story yet...
On my knees in front of the fire, I lit some dry newspaper and wedged it in the little wood structure I'd built. Soon I could feel the warmth against my face as the light grew and the fire swelled to a crackling hum.
Before I could turn around, I felt warm fabric fall across my shoulders. I looked to see Bella disappearing back towards the kitchen again after wordlessly draping an afghan over me.
When she came back she was carrying a tray with two coffee mugs, and two plates of french toast. She settled down beside me on the floor, nudging her way under my arm and beneath the afghan in front of the fire.
We smiled at each other before digging in. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I'd snarfed down my food faster than Bella could take a few bites.
"Hungry?" she chuckled. I grinned at her, my cheeks full of french toast. It tasted like heaven after a night that felt like hell.
Bella picked at her food, but in the end, she gave most of her toast to Bosley. It was unlike her. We sat for a few minutes in silence, slowly sipping coffee. Bella stretched her legs in front of the fire, putting her socked feet near the warm stone.
She finally looked up at me, our gaze really connecting for the first time this morning. She seemed sort of distant since we got out of bed. I felt like she was afraid to look at me.
"There you are." I said, searching her eyes. "Are you okay?"
She nodded her head with a hum of reassurance before leaning up to kiss me. Soft lips, gentle pressure. Perfectly Bella.
We settled into a brief silence while I collected my thoughts. I couldn't find a place to start. Bella seemed to sense this and thankfully prompted me with a question. The words were timid and careful out of her mouth, but they were direct.
"How did it happen?"
A long sigh escaped me as I looked from her eyes into the now steadily roaring fire. The memories were already so hauntingly present and so clear it almost felt as if she were asking me what happened yesterday.
"I, uh...well." I took a sip of coffee and willed my anxiety down just enough so I could actually do this. Detach from the pain enough so it was just a story to tell and not a nightmare that belonged to me.
I took a deep breath and just started to speak. I could keep nothing from her anymore.
"The weather had been really shitty that winter, which had me pretty riled up. I hated being in the house. Things had gotten progressively worse with Dad, and when I got old enough to go to high school, I did everything I could to stay busy and out of his way. I started hanging out with the wrong kinda crowd at school. Smoked a lot of weed. Drank more than I should've. I was just...trying to avoid my life."
"And your Mom?" asked Bella quietly.
I winced. A wave of shame rising in me.
"We'd...we'd been fighting. Well...it was more me than her. I was angry at her."
Bella's hand found mine as she listened. Somehow her grip on me made me feel okay.
"I'd grown a lot. I was as tall as my father, starting to fill out a little more. I was stronger and more pissed off than I was when I was a kid. So I started talking back a lot. I wanted to protect her, you know? One night, in particular, a few days before...they passed, I got into it with my Dad. Bad."
It was quiet as usual while we ate. Mom, as always, tried to strike up conversation. I hadn't spoken to my father in a few weeks, successfully avoiding him with made up stories like soccer practice and debate club. Bullshit after school programs that kept me out of the house. Not like I actually went to them. Didn't mean he didn't yell through my walls, or taunt me when I was home. I'd just been getting better at disappearing. The only productive thing I did do was work out. I hated feeling weak and defenseless. And I wanted nothing more than to beat him at his own game. I'd been biding my time for about 8 weeks, getting lost to avoid a confrontation. I'd only agreed to come and sit down to dinner instead of eating it in my room because I'd noticed fresh bruises on Mom's wrists and neck.
How she slept in the same bed as this monster was beyond me.
My blood was boiling just sitting across from him. I didn't know who he was going to decide to be tonight, but I was ready to kill him.
"Glad you could join us for dinner tonight, Sweetheart." came my mother's timid voice. I didn't answer, I only glared at the man across from me, stuffing his face like a pig with the nice meal my mother made for us. Fucking asshole. He snorted and laughed, humorlessly, rogue pieces of potato still clinging to the corner of his mouth.
He was getting older. He had a well built upper body, but the gut of an alcoholic. His face appeared grizzly to me. Scruffy and almost dirty at times. His hair was dark and unruly like mine, his brow furrowed constantly. While he was always a mess, I knew from experience how strong he actually was.
"It's a shit dinner, but it's dinner all the same." he grunted. Dick.
"Did you want me to make you something else?" Mom started to ask.
"Dinner's great, Ma." I interjected, earning me a hard stare from my father.
"Nobody asked you, faggot." he said in a stoney, calm voice.
I started to understand who was out to play tonight, so to speak. There was one personality that used slurs like that the most. I called him Bruce in my head. Bruce was the most dominant personality I'd identified. He had another who was equally cold but much more reserved - usually in social or work settings. When he was home, Bruce was often in charge. Normally, I'd let him talk shit at me until I was mad enough to just disappear to my room and blow off steam, but tonight, I wanted to fight. I was just waiting for him to start with me.
So I pushed him.
"Well I'm eating it, aren't I? Instead of shoveling it into my fucking face like a goddamn farm animal."
"Edward!" Mom's eyes widened with fear and panic, knowing what was likely about to happen.
Bruce just kept chewing and staring at me, this wicked, knowing smile on his face. I hated this look. I knew it well. It meant I was about to get my ass beat for talking back. But I was sort of counting on my odds. The last time I'd really tried to physically fight back at all, I was about 4 inches shorter with about 25 pounds less muscle growth. That, and he smelled like he was already a few beers in.
We'd been leaving each other alone mostly lately. The majority of the abuse was really more verbal now than it had been before, but the violence was commonplace in this house. He loved to antagonize me, picking fights over stupid shit until he could at least pop me once or twice. He'd turn on Mom - most recently it'd been triggered by the fact that he'd lost his job. His inheritance more than covered us, but it was clear he felt emasculated. Mom was a music therapist at the local rec center and while it wasn't much - she was technically the one who brought home the bacon. It drove him mad.
He constantly told her that she was nothing. That her 'rinky dink job' didn't do shit to make her worth while. He'd challenge her in other ways - ways he knew he'd win. Grabbing her wrists and twisting them while she fought back uselessly. You think you're stronger than me? He'd laugh.
I hated him.
"You think because you got a foul mouth that you're grown?" he said, swallowing the food in his mouth.
I stood up, feeling every inch of my height, feeling every muscle ready itself, every cell on fire with rage for this bastard.
"E-Edward...p-please don't..." my mother whispered.
"And you think you're a fucking man when you lay your hands on my mother?!"
I slammed my fist on the table and leaned over to look him in the eyes, daring him.
"FUCK. YOU." I spat.
I was nervous, but my adrenaline was pumping. This was the first time I'd truly challenged him and felt ready. I'd been preparing for this. Win or lose, I was going to give him a fucking fight.
I'd learned the hard way what happens when you start something you can't finish. When I was around thirteen, I saw him slap my mother clean across the face, knocking her to the floor. I came rallying to her aid, screaming at him, clawing at his shirt, throwing empty punches.
He knocked me out cold. It was the third concussion he'd given me since we stopped going to the cottage. I'd tried many times since then to fight him, but I just wasn't strong enough.
Until now.
All at once dishes were breaking on the floor as he lunged at me from across the table.
I was ready for him, grabbing his shoulders and throwing him off, his body slamming down on the table.
When he rolled off and stood up, he was covered in gravy. His eyes were on fire with rage. I didn't even give him a second to think about what his next move would be. I slammed into him, delivering a punch to his gut and knocking both of us into the living room and out of the kitchen. I could hear my mother screaming, but I ignored her.
He was grabbing at my hair, yanking my head back so he could take a shot. He got me once pretty good across the jaw, but as soon as he let go of my hair, I went for his knees.
I punched out his right knee, giving myself the upper hand as he fell to the ground. From there on it was easy. I was thrilled at my victory as I climbed on top of him and threw punches to his face.
"You fucking touch her one more time... I fucking dare you!"
I was screaming at him, and I suddenly I realized I was crying too. My fists were on fire as I laid into him.
"Edward! Edward, baby stop! He's out! Sweetheart, he's out, you need to stop!"
I blinked through my tear hazed vision and looked down. I'd won. My hands were covered in blood and 'Bruce' was out cold. His face was a mess.
I threw myself off of him, and it was like suddenly, my surroundings came back, flooding my senses. My heart was hammering, and so was my jaw. I was pretty sure he'd ripped out a good chunk of my hair.
There was gravy and blood all over the carpet around him and on my hands. Mom was sobbing and yelling.
Yelling at me.
"Edward! How could you! Look at him, how could you!"
Shock and anger overwhelmed me. I had always been a quiet kid, but now...I felt like a bomb went off in my head. I exploded.
"How could I?! This motherfucker has been abusing us for years and you LET him. You stay here! You make me stay here! You keep fucking waiting for him to get better but he's NOT GOING TO GET BETTER. Dad's gone! He's gone, Mom! And the longer you refuse to believe that, the more of your life you're going to spend being his fucking slave!"
"E-Edward." We were both crying now. The light from outside had vanished and the room was dark. "I know you want to protect me, and I've tried to protect you too. I never wanted you to be hurt. I know I'm not perfect and this has not been easy. But this is your father. The man I fell in love with. And I know he's in there. You don't see it all the time because you're never home. He comes back. Briefly, but he still does. Sometimes it's in the morning when we first wake up. Sometimes it's after I get home from work, he...he looks at me with tenderness. Like my Marcus. The one who asked me to marry him on the beach by our cottage. There's a chance for him, okay?"
I saw the sorrow in her eyes but it meant nothing to me. No actually, it did. It fucking hurt me to my core.
"So, while you wait around for him to come back to you, you let him treat us like this. You let him put his hands on you, and on me. What about me?!"
I had nothing but venom coming out of my mouth at this point, the rage and hurt all consuming. I stood up, looking down at her on the ground and raising my voice.
"Nine fucking years old and he fills a sock full of iron nails to beat me with. Nine years old! A metal rake at ten. Broke three of my fingers in a wood clamp at twelve. I can't even count how many times I've had a concussion, or stitches. Broken wrist at fourteen. And last year, when he got so drunk he could barely stand, waving a broken glass bottle at you, slicing my back open when he tried to lunge after you and I could barely hold him back. He almost killed me. And he's come close to killing you time and time again! How long, Mom! How fucking long are you going to wait for him!? How long do I have to wait for you?!"
My voice broke as I roared and the tears choked me. Mom couldn't look at me. She said nothing. Her eyes were on my father, tears streaming down her face. My heart broke. She'd made her decision. I left her there, grabbing my coat and leaving the house all together, taking off into the night. She called after me, but I was already gone. I walked until the sun came up.
"Where did you go?" asked Bella, her eyes glued to me.
"No where in particular. I just walked. It was too far to walk here to the cottage, but I had wanted to. I walked on the outskirts of town, I didn't want to run into anyone, I just didn't want to go home. When I finally did get home the next morning, it was so quiet I was scared. Scared that maybe he'd killed her or something, I don't know... But she was in the kitchen and he was upstairs sleeping off some pain pills she'd given him. I was exhausted and I didn't want to talk, even though it was apparent she did. I was still just, so angry. I felt like she'd abandoned me in a way. She was a great mom, always was. I never doubted that she loved me. It was just...when I got older, I realized how trapped we were. And she was the only person who could set us free. And she didn't. At least...she didn't get the chance to."
Bella was quiet, her thumb rubbing in a soothing pattern on my arm. Her eyes were glassy as if she wanted to cry, but was holding it back. I couldn't look at her, afraid if she started to cry, I'd lose it too. My heart was already in my throat.
"Did Child Protective Services ever catch on? I mean, with so many injuries, they had to have been questioned?" she asked.
"Most of the times I truly needed treatment, she'd take me to Carlisle, her brother. She'd make up a new story every time despite him asking her directly if there was abuse, and if he needed to contact CPS. I think he tried to contact them once despite my mother's insisting okay. But when my back was cut open by that glass bottle, I'd lost a lot of blood and had to go to the hospital. CPS of course was flagged as Carlisle had called about us once before. My parents put on the most convincing show, it made me sick. When I asked Mom why she lied for him, she told me that when he was better, he couldn't live a normal life with us if he had a bad record. That he'd have to leave us. She couldn't bear that. He'd made her so dependent on him that she believed she had no answers if he wasn't in the picture. The mental abuse was so engrained in her it was hard for her to step back realize her own reality."
Bella's hand came up and ran over my back. The long scar from that glass bottle under her hands.
"This fight you had with your Dad that night at dinner, it was a few days...b-before...?"
I nodded.
"I stayed out of the way for the next couple days. My mom tried to talk to me but I was so...so damn stubborn. I didn't want to talk. I'd pretend to be asleep so she'd leave me alone. Looking back, that's the most painful part. All the moments I spent being mad at her instead of telling her I loved her. I was so angry, Bella. I'd been abused for years, but nothing hurt me quite like the idea that my mother was choosing my monster of a father over me. That's what I thought at the time..."
"She chose you, didn't she?"
I felt a lump in my throat and it hurt to swallow. I nodded. She did. I had it all wrong. If I had only listened to her, I could have helped her, protected her.
"The day she died, I came home from school and there were suitcases by the door. Some of them were mine. She'd started packing my things for me. She was doing it. She was leaving him. Esme told me later that Mom had called them and asked if we could stay with them. My outburst had finally gotten through to her. She felt the weight of the past years on her, realized that what we were going through wasn't supposed to be normal. Esme said she sounded nervous on the phone, knowing I was angry with her, unsure if I'd forgive her. She said she needed to take care of me the way I took care of her."
I stopped to swallow back tears.
"He'd been asleep on pain pills again and she'd started putting our things together, stacking shit by the door, hoping to pack the car before he woke up. But she didn't get a chance to finish."
When I walked past the luggage in the foyer and into the kitchen, I noticed broken glass on the floor.
"Mom?"
No answer.
Another bag of clothes strewn across the ground.
Blood on the carpet into the living room.
My chest was pounding. Horrified, I kept moving forward. I lost my breath when I turned the corner.
My father was nowhere to be seen, but my mother was there. A bloody mess on the floor in front of the stairs. Her face was almost unrecognizable he'd beaten her so badly. From the way she was laying on the stairs, the way the rug was tangled at her feet, the trail of bloody hand prints, she'd tripped getting away from him, or he'd pushed her...there was no way to know for sure. The way her head rested on the bottom stair was unnatural. Neck broken. Her eyes were open, but she couldn't see me. She couldn't see anything.
I was choking, it was impossible to breathe. I could do nothing but repeat "No, no, no, it's not real, this isn't real..."
But it was.
I fell to my knees beside her, taking her hand in mine.
"Mom - Mom, please. Please wake up, please..." I begged her, I pleaded, I screamed.
"After a while, I got myself together enough to lift her from the ground and pull her into her car with me. I found her keys and started to drive, I didn't let go of her the whole way. I don't even remember getting to the hospital honestly. It was such a blur, such a horrifying moment. Looking back I should have called the police, or an ambulance. But I was so floored. I lost all common sense. I knew she was gone. And all I could think to do was hold my mother and bring her to someone who knew what to do next."
"Oh, Edward." Bella breathed. The two of us were both in tears.
I had to take a second to catch my breath and wipe my eyes. My throat ached from trying to hold emotion at bay.
"They asked me a ton of questions obviously when I got to the hospital with her in my arms. I could barely speak enough to give them my name. The police were called and while I waited for them to get there, I just...I just snapped. I told the nurses who were supervising me that I had to go to the bathroom and instead made a bee line for the door. Got in the car and headed straight back to the house. It was starting to get dark out.
He was waiting for me. At the door, he was waiting for me."
I saw his shadow in the glowing glass door when I pulled in. My hands were shaking from shock, the cold, adrenaline...I was feeling to much. A freezing rain had started to fall outside.
I parked and pulled the keys out of the ignition, taking a second to try and breathe. When I looked up at the door again, he was gone. Bastard.
Fucking bastard!
I let myself out of the car and flew up the steps, out of the rain and into the house.
"WHERE ARE YOU!?" I roared . The tears were streaming down my face.
The place was trashed. The dining room table was flipped over, more glass smashed on the floor. It looked as though he had started to clean blood off the floor but abandoned the attempt to continue wrecking the place.
I eased my foot steps and listened intently. Sounds of shuffling upstairs guiding the way. I went to the hall closet and grabbed one of his old golf clubs.
I made no attempts to be quiet. He knew I was coming.
Up the stair well every picture frame had been smashed. When I reached the second floor, I could see my bedroom door was busted half off it's hinges - my room emptied already. Mom had packed me first.
I turned toward the master bedroom, feeling a shift in temperature. He must have opened the door to the balcony, letting in the December chill.
"Elizabeth?" came his voice. He sounded off. Different.
I heard him choke back a sob.
"Elizabeth is that you?"
I rounded the corner to find my father on his knees by the bed. Beneath him was a smashed picture frame with my mother's photo. His knuckles were bloody. His face soaked with tears, and he's looking at me like...like he's my dad.
My dad.
"Oh, Edward thank God...where's your mother? I can't find her. I lost her, I can't find her...I can't..." he starts to cry again.
My stomach drops.
Now? Now of all times, he comes back? I'm torn in half. This is the man who murdered my mother, and he has no idea. This is my father, finally my father...and he's a total stranger to me.
"I don't know what I did. I don't know why she's not here. Did she leave me?" He looked up at me, so broken and confused. Like a man resurfacing from a coma after too many years.
"And you...you look so...different, Edward. Why do you look different? Are you going to leave me too?"
"Dad...?" is all I can muster.
Suddenly I'm exhausted, the weight of events hitting me like a fucking train. I come to my knees beside him carefully.
"She's not here." I explain.
He looks up at me and in his eyes he's a little boy. "Why?"
"You hurt her. You didn't mean to, but you hurt her." I cry.
He inhales sharply and pain cripples his features.
"God, no! No, please...I'd never...I'd never..."
All at once he can't catch his breath. He's having a full on panic attack and I'm trying to talk him down. He's gasping for air as he cries. The pain is so clearly overwhelming him. I start to cry again too because what the fuck is happening to me? What the hell happened today? I need my mom. I need her. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel.
"It's okay." I keep saying to him.
But I'm so far from fucking okay, it's a mantra that means nothing. It is nothing. Nothing but sound coming from my mouth and disappearing into the freezing air seeping in from the terrace.
"I broke it." he says. "I broke it. I'm sorry I broke it. I ruined it."
He repeats himself over and over. His speaking becomes rushed and harsh, louder and louder and I finally yell, "Dad!" to quiet him.
He slumps forward, his head in his hands.
The two of us catch our breath. I'm beyond exhausted now. The adrenaline that had brought me here was depleted by too much emotion. I was sitting next to my father, the man who had been missing from my life for years now... the man who killed my mother only hours ago. And here I was, telling him everything was going to be alright.
How fucked was that? And how fucked was it that I had no one to tell me that anymore. No one to assure me I was okay. That everything would be alright. She was gone. She was taken away from me. And her last idea of me was that I was angry with her. That I wouldn't forgive her.
"Fuck..." I swore, feeling the need to scream.
It was eerily quiet.
Dad's breathing had come to back to normal. But he hadn't moved. He stayed there, holding his head.
Until...he started to laugh.
"You think cause you got a foul mouth that you're grown?"
No. No, don't. Dad. Please.
"Dad..."
Before I knew to put my hands up, his fist met my cheek.
"You little faggot. Did you really think you could leave?" he sneers, twisting my arm behind my back and knocking me face first into the wall. Despite his limp from where I knocked out his knee, he's still as strong as ever.
My head was spinning and I was struggling to get out of his hold.
"She thought she could." He growled, his face close to my ear. He spits on my face as he speaks. "Little bitch thought she could leave me."
I swung my head back - hard. It hurt like a motherfucker when the back of my head collided with his forehead, but it was enough of a blow for him to loosen his hold. I fell to my hands and knees, spinning around to look frantically for the golf club.
He had me by my hair before I could reach it, delivering a swift kick to my ribs before throwing me onto the brick balcony terrace. I felt blood dripping down my face and into my eyes. I wiped them frantically as his figure approached.
When my vision cleared, he was holding one of my mother's potted plants over me. I barely rolled away in time as it smashed by my side. I was covered in dirt. Shards of terracotta skidded over my arms and shoulder, leaving thin gashes behind.
"I'm about done with you, boy."
I scrambled to my feet. The winter wind was now whipping in my ears and I became very aware that I needed to get away from the railing of this balcony. The drop was only one story, but only concrete was waiting below.
This man was not my father. He seemed certain of his victory, smirking at me calmly as I gasped for breath. He didn't seem to notice I'd changed our positions, aligning myself with the door back into the bedroom and away from the ledge. My head was throbbing in pain, the pulse of blood pounding in my ears.
"You're weak. You've always been weak. You and that whore. I have no patience for you. Do you understand me? This is my house."
He rushed at me, and I fell back just inside the terrace doors, landing close enough to the golf club that I could finally grab it. But he was fast, landing a blow right into my back that knocked the wind out of me. I flailed blindly behind me with the golf club, feeling the end of it connect with him somewhere.
It gave me just enough time to turn, wind up, and bring that golf club across his face.
Everything at the moment felt like slow motion.
The blow sent him stumbling backwards. Blood coursing from his mouth and nose.
His feet tripping over the broken flower pot.
The back of his legs hitting the balcony ledge.
The way his arms flailed to catch something, anything.
His body disappearing over the edge,
The sickening, cracking, thud.
I stood frozen for a full minute, not daring to move or breathe, suddenly totally alone. In the distance I could hear sirens approaching.
I finally took a breath and moved to the balcony ledge to look down.
There he was. Staring up at me with wide eyes. Unmoving. Surrounded by a halo of crimson.
I could feel Bella gasp beside me and I couldn't look at her.
Now she knew.
"I spent the rest of that night in the hospital. I had to get treated for my wounds and of course answer questions. I couldn't really function though and the police decided to wait until the next day to get my full statement. I was in a haze. And despite all the confusion and pain, I felt...safe. He could never hurt me again. And then I felt guilt. It was my fault she died, and it was by my hand he died too. It was Esme and Carlisle that had called the police. She'd been expecting us once my mother had called her, and when we never showed...she knew something was wrong.
They'd known there was abuse, but never knew the full extent of it until after it was all over. Like I said, my mother truly held out hope. But in the end isolated herself and me to protect him. All she wanted was for us to be a family. To be...normal. Dad's disorder was a game changer. After the police investigation it was clear that it was self defense on my part, I was sent to live with the Cullens under strick supervision and mandatory counseling and grief therapy. I actually...I met your Dad."
Well. The truth was out. No sense in hiding anything now.
"What!?"
"Just a couple times. I didn't really remember him until I saw his picture on your mantle. He was...he was very kind. Told me to call him if I ever needed anything. He checked in on me a few times before I left Forks. I'm glad he didn't keep up with me, or else he would have seen how much I fucked up after moving in with the Cullen family. He'd never let me date you if he knew how much shit I got into. I was a trouble maker for a while there. I was hooked on pain killers for a while. I continued to smoke and drink a lot. I had to get my stomach pumped once though and after that I eased up. And once Esme introduced me to my art...well, let's just say I got a lot better at coping.
When I started living with Carlisle and Esme, I ended up learning a lot more about my dad's past. He'd been heavily abused as well as a child, although in worse ways than I'd experienced. He'd been sexually abused repeatedly. My therapist explained that sometimes when the mind can't deal with the traumas, it creates the personalities who can. Dad felt weak his whole life, it was the personalities that took over that were strong, unbeatable, always right, always in charge. They allowed him a control he'd never felt as himself. He just couldn't win his mind back. I think of that moment before he died, when he was himself. It was the first glimpse I'd had of the real him in years. And...he was just in so much pain."
I finally turned to really look at Bella. Her cheeks were wet with tears, eye lashes long and dewey. Her eyes were locked on me and so full of emotion, I couldn't read her.
"I realize this is a lot, Bella. And now that you know what happened, what I've done...it might change things for you. I can't honestly tell you I didn't want him dead because I did. But his death, my mother's death...the way it all happened has haunted me ever since. When I have an episode like I did this morning, I'm usually reliving the events...finding my mother, watching my dad disappear over the balcony. But it's all intertwined with good memories too. Memories of my Dad before he was lost. Of the way my Mom loved me, cared for me and defended me when she could. And it makes it more painful. The guilt...the regret...it's unbearable sometimes. It doesn't always make me a nice person...you've experienced that. I come with some damaged parts and if this...if this shit is too much for you...I want you to know that I understand."
Bella's arms were around me in an instant. She wrapped herself around me as she climbed right into my lap to face me and hold me. She held me with all her might and I could feel her shaking slightly underneath my hands.
She was crying.
That was all it took to throw me over the edge again. I gripped her tight to me, my arms completely encompassing her. I felt every bit of pain from those last days. The guilt, the regret, the shame, the fear. The grief.
And I felt relieved. Finally, she knew it all. Esme had pushed me to open up to someone about it. I never knew how much weight would be lifted just from talking about it. I just ever bought into it. But she was right. And there was no one in the world I trusted more than Bella now. She'd changed everything.
She'd changed me.
When we'd calmed enough to look at one another, Bella held my face in her hands. Her eyes were focused and her voice was direct, putting my insecurities about her leaving me to rest.
"How I feel for you has not changed, Edward. If anything, I love you more than I did this morning. I don't see you as damaged parts, I only see the incredibly strong man who survived."