Disclaimer: I do not Pet Semetary. I am not the genius that Steven King is that has managed to scare thousands, probably millions, of people (himself included) through words. I wish I was, but I'm not.
Oh, and I don't own Twilight. This doesn't bother me that much.
"That's - great," says Edward in a strained voice. His face is set, but his hands are shaking.
"No it's not!" I cry.
Esme gets up and wraps her arms around me tightly. I feel the tears running down my face, but I don't do anything to stop them.
"Should we talk to her now, Carlisle?" she asks.
"Yeah, sure," he says.
We get up, and they lead me up to the office. Before they close the door, Esme shouts, "Clean up, and then have your water balloon fight."
"Aw!" I hear Emmett complain.
She shuts the door and sits next to me on the couch, squeezing my hand.
"You brought up being pregnant a few minutes ago," says Carlisle.
"Um, yeah," I say as though this was obvious. And it is.
"And that brings in the question of what you want to do about the baby," he concludes.
"What do you mean?" I ask. My eyebrows knit together as I stare at him.
"I mean, do you want to go through an abortion-"
"No. That would be asking to kill the child, and-and I won't do that. I can't. That's just like what I've been through." Esme gave my hand another squeeze. I wipe away the damn tears that keep threatening to fall.
"What about giving the baby to a set of parents? Planned Parenthood?" he asks.
"What if they hurt my baby?" I ask. "No, I can't do that. I can't risk that. I-I-"
I break myself off as I feel a new set of tears coming through. Esme pulls me into her arms, whispering, "Sh, it's okay" and trying to comfort me. But I'm just a wreck right now.
Carlisle sits at me feet, rubbing soothing circles into my hands, and I feel like I'm getting too much out them. Stuffed with all their support.
That night, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The window casts odd shadows across my room, just random blobs that didn't really look like anything. I lift my right hand in the air and trace the outline of one that is on the ceiling.
I can't sleep.
Then I remember that time back near Thanksgiving.
"Bella, don't read now, silly."
I remember that book Edward gave me. I throw the covers off and dig through the two boxes of books I have that I haven't done anything with. I pull it out (it's sitting on the top) and sit down on my bed again. I flip open to the introduction written by King, and read through it.
I fall asleep with the book in my hands, and my night is riddled with nightmares. I wake up at three with someone shaking me slightly.
"No, don't hurt me!" I scream, shrinking against the pillows, throwing my arms up.
"Bella, it's Edward," the person answers.
I lower my arms slightly, and see it is. I reach out and touch the underside of his jaw, looking for the edge of a mask. When I don't find one, I drop my hand and push myself into a sitting position.
"You okay?" he asks, sitting on the edge of my bed. I look away, and he adds, "You don't have to lie anymore."
But I'm so used to lying. Lying was always easy. Well, after the first few months.
"They're just nightmares," I answer finally. I'm not lying that time.
"I don't like it," he says, looking out the window.
"I didn't ask for it," I tell him.
"I know," he says, sighing. "But . . . why did he do it?"
I run a hand along the cuts I've made.
"Sorry, you don't have to tell me," he says. "If you're not ready, and all."
I glance at the empty side of my queen-sized bed, feeling oddly alone. But Edward's right there. I let out a shaky breath and reach for his hand. He lets me, and I hold it.
We sit there for who knows how long, and then he gets up.
"Where are you going?" I ask, the corners of my mouth tugging down.
He doesn't answer but walks around the foot of my bed and sits next to me on the empty side. He takes my hand again.
When I wake up again, he's still next to me. But he's asleep, too. I sit up, surprised. He didn't try anything – nothing at all. I smile slightly, but then stop, my hand tracing over my stomach.
I glance at the clock. The bright red numbers glare at me, saying it's eleven, time to get up. I glare at it back and turn it face down. I throw my feet over the side of the bed, glancing at the floor. I get up and bend down, retrieving my Pet Semetary copy. I'll need to tell Edward it's pretty good so far.
I find some clothes, and slip into the shower. Once out, I pull on the jeans and t-shirt, for the first time in years wearing short sleeves. As I'm sitting at my desk, applying some make up over the final bruises, I hear Edward stir.
I glance back and see him sit up. It's then that I realize he slept without a shirt. I blush and turn back to what I'm doing.
"Oh, morning," he says, yawning and stretching. He walks over and runs a hand along one of the scars on my right arm. "How'd you sleep?"
"Better," I mutter sheepishly. I feel bad about only sleeping well with him next to me.
He smiles, and we get up. He walks in one direction, and I the other, towards the kitchen with a determined look on my face. I open the fridge upon entering, and dig through the contents.
"No, no, no, no – what the hell is this?"
I push away item after item and then laugh. I turn and look at the fridge door. I pick up the carton of eggs, and kick the door shut with my foot. I set the eggs on the counter. I dig around for other things and then set to work to make scrambled eggs . . . with cheese. Because cheese makes everything better.
And things need to be better.
"You couldn't have come at a worse time, you know that?" I ask, looking down at my stomach. "But this doesn't affect you much. You're just going to be born, fed, live, grow up, and blah. There's not much going to happen to you. Don't worry about that. Don't worry, little one."
The day of the trial finally arrived. I didn't sleep a lot, too worried and anxious. I didn't even go to school anymore. Esme had taken me out and had set up private tutoring. She knew I wasn't comfortable with going there being . . . pregnant and all.
There was a knock on my door at a little after seven-thirty the day of the trial. I open the door and Alice steps in.
"Oh, Bella, what am I going to do with you?" she asks, putting her hands on her hips.
"What do you mean?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Your hair is a wreck! You're in sweats! This is not how to dress," she says. "No, not at all."
She starts going through my closet and finally finds one of the few dresses I own. I thought I had them buried in a box in the farthest recesses of my closet. Dammit, I guess I was wrong.
"Here we go," she says, holding up the dark blue dress. It falls to about my knees and was always a little large. The sleeves reach my elbows, and has a square neck line. "Blue's your color."
She forces me to change into it and helps me zip up the back. I glance in the mirror and it doesn't look too bad. But I hate showing my legs. They're not too bad to look at, I just hate it. And there's the small bump from my stomach, but you can't see it. I'm just glad the dress is still really loose.
"You look pretty," Alice assures me when she sees the look of worry growing on my face. She finds the makeup I keep to hide bruises. I haven't had a chance to clean up myself yet, but there's nothing to hide. Not anymore.
She sits me down and places curlers in my hair, snapping them in place. Then she walks off to get Rose.
"Why do you need Rose?" I call, but she's already gone.
When she did come back, she and Rose bring in a larger box of makeup.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
They ignore me and begin talking in hushed tones.
"Uh, guys?" I say.
They still ignore me. But then Alice turns around with a tube of lip gloss in her hands. She uncaps it and uses the tip to apply the bright pink substance.
"I'm not a big fan of pink," I say as she turns me away from the mirror and turns the mirror down. She turns her back on me, and Rose turns back with a palette of eye shadow. She applies a light brown color and then Alice puts on black eyeliner. They decide to leave my cheeks alone, and then allow me to look in the mirror.
My lips have life with the pink lip gloss, and the eye makeup perfectly brings out my chocolate eyes. Alice and Rose each give me a light hug and then take the curlers out of my hair one by one. When they're all out, they go over my hair in hairspray, just trying to keep it all decent. The curls don't look bad either.
When they finally locate a pair of flats from Rose's closet (as I only own sneakers), they take me out to show the rest of the Cullens. Esme gave me a loving look, and Carlisle, Emmett and Jasper also nod their approval.
"You look . . . great," Edward whispers from my side.
"Um, thanks," I say, blushing.
"Maybe we should have added blush," Alice says to Rose upon seeing this. "She looks good with the color in her cheeks."
"Yes, we should have," Rose agrees.
They glance at each other and then simultaneously shout, "I'll get it!" and run off.
While they're gone, I go to find something to munch on. As I return, they walk into the living room. I take the long way around, through the dining room as they walk into the kitchen.
"Bella!" they shout, walking towards me.
"Fudge," I mutter and back up. "Aw, come on, I don't need to wear more ma- AH!"
I start falling backwards, but feel someone grab my shoulders as Emmett and Jasper lunge towards me. I look up to see who grabbed me and see Edward slowly getting me back on my feet.
"Thanks," I tell him.
"Aw!" Rose and Alice say together, a stupid, loving look on their face.
Emmett and Jasper are now lying at my feet, and Esme and Carlisle share this look that really irks me.
"Can we just go?" I ask, suddenly pissed at all of them. Why the hell did they have to enter my life?
Well, I most definitely am pregnant.
I laugh.
"Hormones," Emmett says from my feet, wrapping his arms over his head.
We all laugh.
At the court house, I stay close to Carlisle and Esme, afraid of anything happening. But mostly just wanting support.
"Calm down, Bella," says Esme, hugging me before we enter the courtroom. The lawyer had just entered, and we were the last three left outside. "You need to calm down. You look beautiful at the moment, and confidence will help you. Even if there is no way we can lose."
That's a major confidence boost. No way we can lose.
We enter a moment later and take our seat at the table with our lawyer. I glance behind me and Alice and Rose give me big thumbs up. Emmett and Jasper smile and nod, then return to bickering quietly about video game strategies. Edward gives me a soft smile and reaches up to squeeze my shoulder.
The doors open and two police officers enter with Charlie in handcuffs. He smirks at me as his lawyer walks in behind him. I turn away, and Esme squeezes my hand.
"Confidence," she whispers.
I sit up straighter and hold my head a little higher, but I'm nervous as hell.
"All rise for the honorable Judge Turner," says the court reporter.
We all stand, but I don't look back like everyone else. Judge Turner is a middle-aged woman with soft gray hair that curls around her face. She takes her seat and bangs her gavel.
As the case wears on, I grow more and more uneasy. And hungry. Mostly I want some baked potatoes and ketchup with some pickles, but a little bit of hot chocolate wouldn't be bad either.
Charlie's sitting in that box next to the judge.
"I have never touched a hair on her head in a harming manner," he was saying. Lying bastard. I feel Carlisle stiffen next to me. He's just as pissed as I am. He's the one who had to find out when I tried to kill myself. "It was not me. It had to be one of her new friends, and she must have been afraid to tell."
"Liar," I hiss.
It's my turn a minute after that. I get to tell them everything. The judge isn't going to judge me, and the Cullens already know. Charlie has this look of smugness in his eyes as he watches me get up there.
"My 'father' is nothing but a liar," I say. "And a hypocrite. He told me to never lie, but he's doing that himself. Well, that was when I was younger. Then, when I was twelve, he came home drunk. He hit my mother, and I tried to stop him. He hit me. The next morning, he apologized, but he did again that night – sober. That continued for a week and then he stopped, because I couldn't hide the bruises well enough then. My mother wasn't sure how either.
"It continued on and off for about a year like that," I explain further. "And he didn't seem to care that much. Mother and I learned how to care for cuts and burns and how to cover things up. I became a good liar far too quickly. And then it became a regularly basis. Come home from school, clean, start dinner with Mom, get beat and watch the other hurt. It was never nice, never easy."
"Where's your mother now?" asks his lawyer.
"She's dead," I say quietly, looking at my hands. "She killed herself when she couldn't take it anymore. That was about a year ago. She slit her wrists and bled out in the bath tub while he and I were at work and school. I came home and found her there with a note meant for only I to see. That note told me to join her, to pick up the razor sitting next to her. But I didn't.
"It kept getting worse as time wore on. He let his friends hit me and . . . have their way with me."
I trail off, and the judge looks down at me.
"What's happened recently?" she asks kindly.
"Oh, I'd have to go back to Thanksgiving to tell you," I say and she nods. "Right. The most recent stuff has happened after I met the Cullens. I was supposed to work on a project with Edward, and I didn't get a chance to ask him, my 'father', about the project because he started a-abusing me." I can't believe how calm I am. "And I sprained my wrist at that time. The next day, I got a ride to school with Edward as it was pouring down rain. I think he saw one of the bruises I had on my stomach at the time.
"Things seemed even worse after I met them, and when he came over to work on the project-"
"You had a boy in the house?" Charlie shouts.
"It was for a project," I say weakly.
He snarls at me and shrink back, my lower lip trembling slightly.
"Restrain him!" Judge Turner orders.
They do, and she nods at me.
"When he was over, he saw one of the bruises I had rushed to cover up. He wiped away the makeup, and I lied, saying I tripped and hit the banister," I said. "I lied about being sick on that day, too. I lied to Mrs. Cullen just to get something to eat. I lied to my friend, Jacob Black. I lied to everyone."
I sigh and continue. "That was the first night he – raped me. I had just gotten out of the shower and didn't have time to change and when I accidently dropped the towel when he smacked me.
"At lunch the next day, I called him again to see if I could go over to their house. He yelled at me, and I broke down. Edward found me again and he calmed me down when our biology class was almost over. So we didn't go. We sat there and watched the darkening clouds. I pointed up at one and my sleeve dropped a little, I guess, because Edward saw some of the cuts. I hadn't cut yet at this point, this was something his friends had done. They had written 'whore' there, and Edward thought I did it. I let him think that, because there wasn't a way to tell him without telling him about what happened at home.
"When I got home, I met James," I say. "I was told to get on my knees and strip. I did, afraid to get hurt. James came out and I spent a night with him. The Cullens noticed just how quiet I had become and were worried. I lied to them. I started getting sick a few weeks later. Christmas was spent with James and I really don't want to go into that. There was just more pain.
"Then came the first time I cut," I say. "I went from the top of my wrist to my elbow on my left arm. Some were deeper than the others, and you can still see." I hold my arm out and I notice the Cullens shift uncomfortably. "Edward found out the next day at lunch. He found the note I had written. I destroyed it later. It had things about how much I hated my life, things like – and sorry for the language – 'I don't need sex. Life fucks me when it can.'
"At the beginning of February, I tried to kill myself. I had just figured out I was pregnant-"
"You did what, bitch?" Charlie shouts, dropping all pretense of being a loving father.
"I didn't try," I explain. I blink away tears for the first time during this trial. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rose and Alice making their hands into the shapes of hearts. I smile slightly and go on, trying to forget about Charlie. "Like I was saying, I tried to kill myself. I couldn't bring up a child in a situation like that. So found it simpler to kill myself. And everything had been eating at me for so long, and I just couldn't take it. But Jacob Black found me. He took me to the hospital, and Carlisle stitched me up – so to speak – and I started staying with them. So here we are today," I finish lamely.
The judge had decided Charlie was guilty of child abuse – physical and sexual. When we return home, I wander up to my room, shut the door quietly behind myself and move over to my bed. I sit down softly on the cover, running my hand over the smooth surface. There's a knock at my door.
"Come in," I call.
Edward steps in and shuts the door again. He sits down next to me.
"Things are going to be different now, aren't they?" I ask.
"Very different," he says, entwining his fingers with mine gently.
"But for the better," I say, looking over at him.
He nods and wraps his arms around me, placing a kiss on my forehead. It surprises me, and I'm slightly uncomfortable, but it's different now. I don't need to be afraid.
Things are different now.
A/N: You know, I'm really fucking mad with this. Pardon the language. But seriously, half of you are yelling at me for a fucking element in the story. If you're not happy with it, read something else. I'm about to go put a fucking warning in the summary. Stop yelling at me for it, too, will you? Or at least tell me why you don't like it. Don't just yell, leave no reason and be pissed. TELL. ME. WHY. GODDAMMIT.
Also, those reviews will slow me down from writing. I like construction criticism, not just "How dare you!" It's not that great. How would you like being told your wrong for what you do? Gosh.
And, on the note of updating, I'm sorry this took forever. This has been a crazy busy week. Last night, Thursday, my school had the opening night of our first play (bit late aren't we?) and I had to stay after school to help out with that. SO CRAZY. So yes, the next chapter shouldn't take as long.