As January passed, I stopped feeling sick as often. But other odd things began happening. I was hungrier than usual. Starving constantly. And I always wanted the weirdest things. I remembered that game I played with the Cullens and the sardine and peanut butter sandwich Alice refused to eat. I wanted one for weeks and finally said "screw it" and made one while Charlie was out fishing.
And one morning, February 1st to be exact, I woke up and realized I was stupid enough to not realize I had missed my period. Twice. How could I forget! Well, I was preoccupied, and I never really kept track or anything.
But I forgot! I froze and knew exactly why. But I had to be sure. So what if it's been about two months and a week or so.
I leave the house that day, walking to the center of town. I slipped into a drug store, hoping no one would recognize me and got a pregnancy test. The cashier didn't say anything, and I quickly ran home.
The time to wait for the test feels like an eternity. And then . . . and then it beeps. I pick it up. Positive.
"No!" I scream. I break it in a sudden fit of anger and insanity. I cannot bring a child up. I pull up my shirt and already there's a bump forming. Then the tears start pouring "I can't do this. N-no. Never!"
I throw the box and test into the very bottom of the trash and cover it up. Charlie can't know. Ever. I pull on a warm jacket and start running. I manage not to trip as I just run blindly. My feet have a destination in mind, but I don't know where they feel like going.
But I soon find out. I'm at the Cullen house. I'm knocking on the door before I can stop myself, and I can't make myself move as it opens. I'm staring at Edward with an open mouth before turning and running again.
"Bella!" he shouts, running after me.
I make it to the edge of the woods before he locks his arms around my waist, stopping me from moving. I'm afraid he'll feel the bump, but being in his arms where I don't feel hated, don't feel afraid, that's more important.
I spin around and lock my arms around him, clawing into his back without intention. He rubs my back, and cringe as he passes over an open wound. He settles his arms back around my waist, trying not to hurt me further.
"What's wrong?" he asks. His lips turn down at the corner and his eye brows knit together.
I shake my head, trying not to sob so loud. So hard. I don't want to cry in front of him. He already thinks something's wrong. He saw that paper. He sees the cuts, he sees the bruises that I can't hide. The boy is so observant, it's insane.
"There is so much wrong," I sob.
"Sh," he says, pulling me closer.
"No!" I cry, breaking away from him. I land on my butt on the cold ground. My jacket falls away and I curse myself for wearing a tight shirt as I glance down and see where the shirt is stretched across my stomach.
"Yo-"
I scramble to my feet and start running as fast as I could. I glanced back, and Edward was still standing in the same spot with a dumb look on his face. I kept running, amazed I could run this much.
Once again, I didn't know where my feet were taking me, but I didn't trust my feet, so I came to a stop in the middle of the woods. I could hear waves crashing from a ways away. I walked towards the sound, an idea I'd been thinking about for a long time coming through the thoughts in my head.
Do it, Bella, a voice inside me says. It's better this way. It's easier for you and the child this way.
"You're right," I say aloud to the voice in my head. Maybe it's insanity creeping in on me, maybe it's my brain telling me this is the right thing to do and easier than going through any other pain, but I listen.
I step through the trees and come to a cliff. I realize I'm in La Push, where a lot of the guys go cliff diving. But I'm not interested in cliff diving.
As I strip off my shoes, socks and jacket, I hear the sounds that form into a symphony. There's the drums, the string section, the winds and the soft sound that I can't fit into an instrument category.
The trashing, crashing waves down below smash against the rocks. I glance down, all the way down. I think I might be able to see hell.
My breathing is soft and occasionally coming out a bit raspy, like the sound of a person who wants to cough but can't, and then that sound they make when breathing through their mouth. Those would be the strings.
My hair caresses my face, and a sort of whistling sound blows past my ears, grabbing at them and asking to be heard. The pitch of the wind varies from a higher sound to somewhere low, like an oboe.
And then there's the last. The sound of water trickling down leaves and hitting the ground, hitting another puddle.
Plip – plip – plip – plop.
It varies from where it hits on rough or smooth surfaces around it. And the amount of water falling at a time.
I sniffle and smell the fresh air – the sweet, grassy scent. That smell you can't find anywhere else but right before it rains.
I shift slightly on the rocks. I look down again, wondering if I really want to do this. Should I really do this? Am I really going to take my life?
Yes.
This life is pointless and meaningless, and I wish I had done this sooner. Before James did – what he did. I can't believe I'm doing what Mom did, but she did slit her wrists.
I glance down again, not because I'm scared, but interested in what I'm doing. Only I would take my life by jumping into the Pacific Ocean. During February. In Washington state. Only I.
I sigh one last time, step forward and feel a rock slip from under my foot. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the pre-rain air. And then jump.
The air screams as I go sailing down, or maybe that's me. I can't really tell. And my ponytail whips my face, and then the water hits.
It's freezing, bone-chilling and feels more like someone dumped me in the Bering Sea instead of the Pacific. The currents throw my body around like a puppet. I look up at the surface (or is that a trick and I'm facing the other way?) and see the light. Maybe it's the light to hell, as there's no way I'm going to heaven after trying to kill myself. Suicide is a sin, or so I've heard.
I'm running out of air, and I'm thrown against rock after rock. And then, as I'm drifting towards the everlasting darkness, I feel a new brush of water, a soft gentle touch of something warm and then I'm in the light again.
I gasp for breath and try to get out of the grasp I'm in.
"Bella," I hear someone say, like they've been crying, like they're so relieved.
I know that voice, though. But . . . who?
"Jake?" I croak, coughing and spitting out the salty water.
But that's the last thing I say before slipping into a world filled with darkness.
"She's in no state to do anything, let alone go to court," I hear someone saying as I sort of come to. I'm in so sore, so bruised, so pained.
My eyes slowly open and I see Carlisle and another doctor.
"Car – lisle?" I ask, lifting my hand up to the blonde man. He has the other doctor leave and takes my hand, pulling up a chair next to me.
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Tired, confused – ow – in pain," I mutter.
He sighs. "Bella, when they brought you in, and we started working on you, I found out you're pregnant and abused." As he says this, he turns my arm to show all the cuts lining my arm. "And cutting."
I pull my arm away, turning to where my back is to him.
"I don't wanna talk about it," I say.
"I've already called social services," he says.
I turn back over. "So you know who's doing it?"
"Your father, correct?"
I nod. I fold my arms over my stomach. I feel a single tear slide down my cheek, and reach up to wipe it away.
"Does anyone else know?" I ask after a minute.
Carlisle takes my hand again. "Just the other doctor. He and I took photos of the bruises and cuts and abrasions and scars. And that burn on the back of your right shoulder. Your father's been arrested, but has anyone else . . . done anything to you?"
"James," I whisper, suddenly looking around to make sure he's not there.
"What's his last name?" he asks. I look at him, and he's looks so calm, but his eyes are flickering with a growing hatred.
"I don't know," I say.
"That's okay, we get it off that bastard," he says. He says 'bastard' with so much contempt, so much rage that I almost don't see him as plain Carlisle. He's more like a protector.
"When are we going to court?" I ask. "That's what I heard when I woke up. And something about not being strong enough. And why didn't I die?"
"When you heal a little more," he says. He helps me sit up and shows me my left leg, moving the blanket off it. "You broke your ankle when you fell, and you're already weak enough.
"You didn't die because of the way you hit the water," he explains. "I don't know how you hit, or from what height, but it wasn't bad enough to kill you. You have drowned if that boy didn't bring you in."
"Oh, yeah, Jacob," I say. "Where is he?"
"He's out in the waiting room. I can grab him if you wish."
"I need to talk to him, yes," I say.
Carlisle gets up and leaves the room. Jacob dashes in quickly after that and runs to me. He pulls me into a hug and brushes my still tangled hair away. Carlisle returns after a minute.
"Esme's on her way," he says. "She called me, and I had to tell her I needed to go since you had just come in."
I nod, but Jacob draws my attention back to him.
"Hey, are you okay?" he says. "Why'd you do that?"
"I just . . . you wouldn't get it," I say.
"No, I don't, you never say anything to me anymore," he says.
"I don't talk to anyone much anymore," I tell him.
He sighs and hugs me again.
"Please, don't do anything stupid ever again," he whispers.
"I'm not making promises," I say truthfully. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself.
He nods, but he doesn't seem happy with my answer. I glance at Carlisle out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't seem pleased either.
"I don't wanna talk, Jake," I say. "I'll call you later."
"Sure, just leave the guy that saved you without answers," he mutters darkly as he walks out of the room. As he does so, he brushes past Esme.
When they finally let me out of the hospital, it was go to the Cullens. They had apparently grabbed all of my stuff (and the knife I had been cutting with) and brought it back to the house. But I told Carlisle about the bed and the memories, and he and Esme got me a new one, bigger, comfier and warmer.
"Bella," Edward says in relief when he sees me. He wraps me in his arms and holds me tightly. "God, I thought I'd never see you again."
"Sorry," I say.
"Don't be sorry," he says, pushing me back at arms-length. I saw his eyes glance down at my stomach before quickly riveting to my face. "I'm surprised you never did anything sooner. You're so strong."
He pulls me into another hug, and then the others take over. Finally, I manage to get away and go to my new room. I sink down on the bed and look over everything Esme did.
She painted the walls a pale blue and the new bed with its wooden frame is in the center of the wall across from the door. A new desk with my laptop is sitting to my right. The closet is a walk-in like everyone else's, and my easel is set up in the corner with canvas and paints strewn across the floor.
My walls are blank, but there are random sticky notes everywhere. I get up and collect all of them before sitting back down to read them.
There were a few from Alice and Rose, promising to take me shopping. Jasper apologized for Alice, but said he wanted to show me some of his Civil War stuff. Emmett said he was taking me paintballing, whether I liked it or not. Edward promised to show me something secret. Esme said she'd help me hang some of my art on the walls or buy someone else's. And Carlisle promised to always be there for me.
There was a knock on my door.
"What?" I call.
Rose sticks her head in. "Esme says dinner's ready."
"Oh, thanks," I say and get up.
I walk over to her, placing the notes back on my wall. She and I walk there, but I pull Carlisle aside.
"Do I have to tell anyone anything?" I ask quietly so they won't overhear me.
"That's your choice," he says. "Esme and I want to talk to you after dinner, though. It's not bad," he adds after seeing the moment of fear flicker across my face. "Don't worry. Now, let's eat."
He sits down at the head of the table, and I quickly find the only empty seat next to Edward. I sit down, pulling my jacket around me in such a way that he can't see anything.
Dinner is . . . quiet. No one's quite sure what to say. Until Jasper "accidently" hits Edward in the forehead with his mashed potatoes. He put on a sly smile as Emmett laughs and guffaws like an idiot. I giggle at the sight.
Edward simply looks up with his eyes, and watches as the mashed potatoes slowly slip down his face.
"Well, Jasper," he says, standing up. He wipes them off and licks them off his hand. "I do believe that this is WAR!" And with that, he throws a handful of peas at him.
"You stupid rebels!" Jasper shouts.
"Oh, so we're the Union?" asks Alice, tossing some more mashed potatoes at Emmett.
"That's enough," says Esme firmly.
"Yes, if you're going to throw things at each other, do it out of the dining room," adds Carlisle. "Go to the basement or something, turn the heat up and throw water balloons."
"Yes!" cried Emmett victoriously, pumping his fist in the air. "Get in swimsuits and meet down there in ten minutes. Alice, Rose, I don't care if your makeup gets messed up, you will participate. And Bella, no whining, you too."
"Uh," I say. Everyone looks at me. "Uh, I'm not comfortable in being just a swimsuit."
"You can borrow a pair of my trunks," Edward offers.
I blush slightly and scratch the back of my head.
"And a t-shirt."
"Er," I say. I look desperately at Carlisle.
"Your choice," he says.
"Right," I mutter. They're all still watching me. "It's just that – how do I say this? – well, I'm kinda – pregnant."
The silence was so loud that followed. But then all the noise came back.
Edward, who was holding one of those plastic cups, shattered it in his hand. Alice and Rose let out squeals. Emmett and Jasper are both so surprised that they didn't really know what to do, but look at their girlfriends, each other and are completely flabbergasted, talking randomly to each other.
I look down at my hands and twiddle my thumbs.
The cat's outta the bag, I think to myself, letting out a sigh.
A/N: I know a lot of you were going "NO! DON'T MAKE HER PREGNANT!" but I already had the plot in my head (and written down, signed by me and my witness – I got a pretzel out of that), and it was going to happen. Yes, yes, this is the part where you can be pissed at me.
This also took me hours just to get the first page written. I kept going, "No, that's not it" and "No that's stupid" and also "AH, DAMMIT, WHY WON'T IT COME OUT RIGHT!" So I stopped for a while and worked on my book and went shopping.
Also, minimum of five reviews. I don't write until I get the first review, then it's just a matter of time.
Love you!
xXRayneXx