My thoughts have been clouded and dark, wondering where James is, if that bastard is enjoying the news story. Of course it was in the news – "Chief abuses daughter, raped by a 'James.' Read more on page nine." Well, whoop-de-do, the reporters get a heyday, and I get hell. Not a fair trade, is it? But I'm living with it. I'm not sure how well, but I'm living with it.
I'm curled up on the couch in the living room, listening to the news rather blankly in the background and reading Pet Sematary still. I glance up slightly as the voice changes to the weather man.
"Snow is likely to fall this Valentine's Day," he says. "Freezing temperatures will freeze that pond in the backyard, making it perfect for ice skating."
Valentine's Day! How could I forget?
"Yay!" Alice squeals from across the room. "That will be amazing!"
"Snow ball fight!" Emmett shouts. Jasper hi-fives him, and Rose and Alice roll their eyes.
"We'll need new outfits," they say. "To the mall!"
I go back to reading as the room fills with random talking. Edward, Esme and Carlisle are all busy doing things. The talking suddenly dies, and I glance up to find them all staring at me.
"What?" I ask.
"You're going shopping with us," Alice says in a voice that clearly says there will be no arguing.
"Crap," I say. I've heard of their shopping trips. And I've seen the sores that develop on the guys' feet.
They drag me back to my room and help me dress in something "fashionable." We're donning coats as Edward walks in from the kitchen.
"Help me," I beg, running up to him.
He glances back at Rose and Alice. "Funny, Bella, but I'm not that into being castrated."
"Damn," I mutter. "But please! I don't want to!"
"Just go," he says, giving me a small push in their direction, where they're waiting, tapping their feet.
"Noooooo," I whine.
"Grow up, Bella," says Rose and takes my hand. They lead me to Rose's BMW, and we get in. I'm not happy, not happy at all.
But we go, and they take me through every store in the mall – including Victoria's Secret. That wasn't fun.
"Bella! What's your size?" Alice asks. She's digging through a pile of bras.
I walk over and see nothing but lace and frilly things. Sexy things, as people would say.
"I don't really like those," I say quietly.
"Then what do you like?" she asks.
I hold up the cotton one in my hand. It's polka dot. She shakes her head, sighs and goes over to Rose. We finish out the store with ten bags each (against my will), and walk around further.
"My feet hurt," I say, sitting down finally at noon. I slip off the vans I'm wearing and rub my left foot. "Ow."
"Oh, come on," says Rose.
"That's only the first floor," adds Alice.
"Dammit," I mutter, slipping the shoe back on and running a hand down my face. "My feet hurt too much."
"Get over it, Bella," sighs Rose.
"You try being pregnant and tell me that," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
We're silent for the rest of our lunch. We hit the second floor after that, and they take me to the baby store above where Victoria's Secret is.
"It's bad luck to buy baby things before the baby's here," I complain.
"Really?" they ask, giving me incredulous looks.
"So they say," I explain.
"Fine," they say, and we leave.
Secretly, I just don't like being reminded of it. I have nothing against the child, and I refuse to kill it, but I hate the way the baby came about. I wrapped my arms around my stomach defensively as we walk out of the mall and back to the car.
Somehow, they manage to fit everything in the trunk and next to me in the back seat. They jabber on endlessly on the drive home, and I watch the trees go by, the purplish look of twilight setting in. I'm exhausted, starving and just wanting to paint. I really want to paint.
When we got home, Rose and Alice made Emmett, Jasper and Edward carry all our bags to our room. Edward and I walk up to my room, him laden with bags.
"Sorry," I say as he drops everything as soon as he walks in the door. I bend down and try to shove one of the bras back into the bag. I gather some and take them to my closet, Edward following.
"So, was it hell?" he asks.
I shrug, putting the bags on the floor. I can grab some more later. "My feet are killing me, they took me literally everywhere in the mall. Pretty much, yeah."
"I'll rub your feet if you want," he says.
"Sure," I say with a smile. "My feet need it."
We go back to my bed and I sit down on it, stretching my legs out. He sits at the foot and pulls off the first shoe and sock. He applies the pressure to the ball of foot, and I let out a moan. It feels so good.
He chuckles and keeps massaging the foot.
"Shut up," I say lightly.
We begin talking, and sitting there, laughing and smiling, I realize just how much this small bubble of friendly affection for Edward has grown and changed. It's not just friendly anymore, closer to really liking him.
He changes to the other foot, and finishes during the conversation. We keep talking, and then he suddenly looks at me with a softer look than earlier.
"I really like you, Bella," he says.
I blink in surprise, my jaw dropping a little. "I-I-I," I stutter. "I . . . do too, I think. I haven't really been thinking that much. You know, 'cause of stuff. But," I reach out and put a hand on his as his face drops, "I'm pretty sure I do."
He looks hopeful, his eyes growing slightly and eyebrows raising and knitting together.
"Then be mine for Valentine's Day?" he asks, a tiny smile on his face.
I nod, not knowing if saying something will come out right. He grins and pulls me into a gentle hug.
"Get some sleep," he says, pushing me back to arm-length. "It's late."
He gets up and leaves, shutting my door behind himself. I push myself out of bed, and change into a pair of shorts and t-shirt. I won't be sleeping though. I drag a stool up to the easel and stare at the blank canvas. Oh, what to paint?
I let my hand and mind take over, and simply watch as the scene creates itself. I paint well into he night, and only stop when my eyelids become too heavy to keep open. I place the paintbrush down and crawl under the covers. I'm out before my head hits the pillow.
"Bella, Bella, Isabella," I hear someone say in a singsong voice. "Waking slowly, never fully."
I try to get up, try to open my eyes. The voice is drifting away, and it sounds so familiar. I finally pull my eyes open and find myself on the cliff out in La Push I tried to kill myself by jumping off of. I look around and can't seem to find the voice.
"Bella, Bella, Isabella," it's saying. No, she's saying. It's female. "Standing now, waiting for it."
"What's it?" I call. My voice echoes all around me. I clap my hands over my ears – the sound is so loud.
"Waiting for it," the voice repeats.
It sounds like it's coming from behind me, and I spin around, to see a floating figure by the edge of the cliff. A woman with my brown hair, my pale skin and blue eyes.
"Mom," I say, grinning. I start running. "MOM!"
She holds her arms open, and I run into them. But then nothing's there, and I'm falling, falling down the side of the cliff again.
"No!" I scream.
I look to my right, then left and see Mom. Her skin looks burnt, her neck bleeding, all the bruises and scars on her skin.
"I told you to join me," she hisses. "Join me in Hell, Isabella. But you didn't listen. Then you got knocked up. Bitch."
He cackles, and I feel that knife Charlie's friend first carved me with. I look at my left wrist and see the letters appearing, the blood dripping.
I smack the water, still screaming.
"Bella, Bella, Isabella," she says for the last time.
I feel someone shaking me, and I jerk up, breathing hard and realizing my hands are clenching the sheets. Carlisle's standing next to me.
"Mom," I whisper, before breaking down.
Carlisle wraps his arms around me, letting me cry into his shoulder. He doesn't ask questions, just lets me cry. He doesn't try to comfort me, seeing there's probably nothing to fix me up right now.
When I've finally cried myself out, he still stands there, holding me. Why couldn't he have been my father from the start? Then none of this shit would have happened. I turn my left arm slightly and see the scar looks red and irritated. I reach over and trace it lightly with a fingernail, and the old wound opens and starts bleeding.
"Crap," I say quietly.
Carlisle looks down and sees the bleeding cut.
"Let's fix that," he says.
A/N: I am so sorry this took me forever to get out! I just had such a hard time writing this! I tried really hard, but this was all I could get out. Yes, this took me two weeks. I'm sorry! Now, review, yes? Oh, and there's a poll on my profile. VOTE ON IT. It's important. It's for the name of Bella's child. I narrowed it down, but I couldn't choose out of those. Go vote, and again, I apologize for how long it took!
And I might see if I can make a poem to go with that whole "Bella, Bella, Isabella" thing I was writing in the dream. I dunno. We shall see.
-xXRayneXx