"What time is it?" Bella finally asked, when no one else intruded.
"Almost midnight," Esme answered softly, adding, "you must be tired."
"Yeah," Bella said, still on the floor, leaning her head back against the wall.
"Do you want to head to bed?"
There'd be no point. She wouldn't be able to sleep. Not now. She shook her head.
"Then can I get you something? To eat? To drink?"
Bella was thirsty, but she didn't want her to leave.
Esme could sense her hesitation. "I won't go anywhere, unless you want me to."
"Just some water, please," Bella finally said.
There was a knock at the door a moment later, and Esme stood, accepting a glass from an anonymously pale hand. Then she shut the door firmly.
Not that it would stop anyone, but the message was clear. They were alone.
"It's just us," she said, returning to her seat. "No one will intrude."
Esme gestured to the chair near her, an eyebrow raised inquiringly.
Bella nodded, standing stiffly.
Esme didn't approach, but watched surreptitiously. Edward's worried monologue had been long as he'd left, and silent to all but Bella's ears. He'd been vague, but clear enough about his concern for her wellbeing.
After Bella had sat, Esme asked her, "do you want to talk about what happened?"
Bella flicked her gaze up at her, and then away again. "How much did you hear?"
"I know someone hurt you," she answered in a quiet voice.
Bella swallowed, nodding. She didn't add anything else.
"Mm," Esme said, kindly. "I remember a bit of what that was like."
Bella stared. "What?"
"My first husband," she said, "was not so kind as my second."
Bella shivered. "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry," not sure what else to say, not wanting to be impolite.
"It's OK," Esme said. "It was a long time ago. It seems that what happened to you, though, wasn't." She reached over, and brushed her finger by the bruise visible at her wrist.
Bella pulled the hand into her stomach, covering it with her broken one.
"Scary, I know," Esme went on, smiling sadly. "Letting people know. Or help."
Bella nodded. A tiny acknowledgement.
Esme considered her next words, pulling her lips together before she let them out. "Were his words hurtful too?"
Bella didn't want to, but felt more tears snaking their way down her cheeks. "Yes," she croaked.
"Did he tell you it was your fault?"
Bella stared at Esme. How could she—?
"They all do, Bella." She shook her head, as if she wished it wasn't true. This time her hand took Bella's gently in her own. "It wasn't. Whatever he did."
Bella's heart sank.
Jacob hadn't been all wrong. It made distinguishing between where the truth ended, and the wrongness began all that much harder.
Esme's fingers were tracing the same pattern that Edward's had.
She yanked her arm away, standing.
"I think I should just go home, Esme, before Charlie realizes I'm gone."
Esme didn't move, but sat, legs folded at the knees, hands resting quietly in her lap.
"And then what?" she asked.
"I just want to go home," Bella reiterated.
"And let Charlie think that Edward's hurting you?"
Bella stopped, turning slowly to face her. Their features wore the same shade of white.
"Edward said that Charlie suspected he'd hurt you. He had to tell us, Bella. I'm sorry. It implicates all of us."
This made Bella's heart race.
It would.
Oh God. If that spread...if the wolves thought she was being hurt. If—
She sat down again, imagining—imagining things she could barely put words to.
"We'll stand by you, Bella, no matter what, but we'd rather do it for the truth."
Edward had found that small piece of truth, and pulled, and the world felt like it was unravelling. All coming undone.
"Did this person tell you they loved you, too? While they hurt you?"
Bella's fingers dug into her palms, her torso cringing.
Esme stood, coming alongside her, "I'm sorry," she said, her voice so full of emotion, Bella couldn't help but look. Esme's face was drawn with sadness, and more confusingly, apology. "I dismissed it as the stress of the battle. I should have trusted my instincts—said something."
"No—" Bella started, voice breaking.
"Yes," Esme said, "I should have. I knew something was wrong." She put up her hand when Bella went to speak again. "And it was more than just bruises he left you with."
Already pale, the blood sliding down her cheeks left her face grey.
"No," Esme went on, "Edward didn't say anything. It just isn't too hard to put it together."
There was nowhere to hide from this. They all knew.
She just wanted to curl back up in her denial. Oblivion seemed preferable to this acute awareness.
"Edward will not do anything. Neither will anyone else." These sounded less like reassurances, and more like commands. Bella hoped they were.
"How long have you been bleeding, Bella?" Esme asked. She had a pretty good idea, but wanted to hear it from Bella herself, to be sure.
"A few days," Bella answered, not so certain herself. The nights and the days had begun to smudge together, fuzzy and indistinct.
"You shouldn't be," Esme said. "And I imagine you would feel much better, not. Having yourself seen to. Cared for."
It was the last thing she wanted. To be seen. Touched.
The familiar shudder returned.
"Not that it's easy, to trust someone, when you've been hurt," she said, that small, sad smile still there.
"No," Bella managed.
Esme waited before she asked her next question. "Does Edward know who?"
Bella's throat felt tight. Achy. She nodded.
"He won't do anything, Bella. No one will. Not unless you ask it. And even then…" her voice trailed off. There were greater concerns. Things beyond her.
It helped, to see that. To know this was a spec in the greater constellation of their life.
Her stomach lurched, considering how apart from that world she was still.
She shut off the thoughts that wanted having. That wanted to explore what this would mean for them. For her, for Edward.
"Do you think Carlisle could come and help you, Bella?" Esme asked, the words smooth. Rounded. Like the gentle river stones that bordered the garden.
Bella lost herself in those soothing images. The cool wetness of the garden there, so close to river. She could hear it, just outside the window.
"Bella?"
"Hmm?"
"Can Carlisle examine you? Help you?"
She said "OK," before she could change her mind. "Alone. No one else."
"Of course," Esme said, eyebrows pulled together. "Are you ready now?" She hadn't stood yet, but she looked like she was ready to.
Anxious, Bella realized. She was anxious.
For me.
"OK," she managed, then, the manners automatic, "thank you, Esme."
Esme said nothing, but held that same tiny smile, standing, squeezing Bella's hand lightly.
Bella watched her open the door, and the silent exchange pass between her and her husband. Their hands touching, so lightly. Tenderly. It was almost an affront. The memories she'd walled off were oozing out of the cracks, and it was ugly, holding these up against what stood in front of her.
Then Esme was gone.
And she was suddenly alone, with Carlisle.
