A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for missing the 15th! I was shackled to my equipment at work for forever, then I had to go visit relatives over the holidays and then because someone left my heater outside of my hunting blind I got sick and am still sick. I haven't abandoned y'all I swear. Y'all are my life now. ;)
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It had been days since the James incident. Each night I slept less and less and rested an even smaller amount. I'd woken up screaming and fighting multiple times each night. I had new bruises and so did Jasper. I could tell when he got out of bed and it always sent me straight into a nightmare as soon as he did.
Every time he left I always had the same nightmare.
I was back on the floor, greasy from the olive oil, my face pressed against the tile by a cruel hand. Fighting, fighting, fighting against the pressure. Except this time there was no savior. In my mental hellscape I vividly imagined the burn as he managed to penetrate me with an evil, satisfied growl. The agony as it felt as if I was being ripped in two while he rutted against me like a mangy dog. The rank citrus and mint smell invading my nostrils all over again, only this time amplified as he rubbed his cheek against mine as he violated me, his hard, lithe body slamming against me with each jab of his hips. My stomach rolled in protest over everything from the smell, to the smacking of flesh on flesh to the burn as I could do nothing but lie there and endure, trapped in my own mind.
Strong hands would flip me over, back into reality and against him, gently shaking me awake even as I fought, kicking and screaming against him. He called my name over and over like a mantra until I finally snapped out of it. Then I would burrow into his chest where I would suck great lungfulls of his scent in, washing away the vile odor of James. I started to wonder, was this going to be the time I snapped? Or the next? What about after that? How long was this going to continue until I was given a reprieve.
The first few nightmares plus a day without sleep sucked. The next was worse. We were on night six and I could feel myself deteriorating from the inside out. The booze didn't help much. The weed relaxed me for a little bit. It was after exhausting these methods that he decided to bring out the big guns.
Charlotte had just finished showering with me, having gave me a glorious scalp massage at the end when she washed and conditioned my hair. After drying my hair and doing my evening routine, I put on a new fleece onesie. Peter had to have had a hand in these. It had a rainbow tail and a hood with a horn that made me look line some goofy assed unicorn. The smallest of chuckles made its way from me, despite how pathetic it sounded.
I looked around and found that I could stall no longer. I marched out to the dirge playing along in my head, my feet moving at about the same speed as the tune.
He was sitting on his side of the bed, watching me expectantly. Usually this meant he wanted something. For me to do something or try a new idea for some peaceful sleep had been the latest thing. I guess that he figured demands would snap what little sanity I had left.
When I made it to him, he wordlessly took my hand and placed something into it. My eyes darted downward as I brought it up closer to examine it more fully.
"What's this?" I asked, holding a tiny white pill in the palm of my hand.
I looked up from the pill to my Master's face just as his eyes flinched the tiniest bit. If I weren't standing so close to him right now I know I wouldn't have seen it.
"Something to help you… and me," he answered, while not really answering at all.
Charlotte then came up beside me causing me to jump out of my skin.
I hissed wordlessly as I all but climbed into Jasper's lap.
His arms immediately wrapped around me firmly, my face pressed against the front of the soft cotton tshirt. Tears sprang to my eyes as my breaths became shorter, my legs trembling. They may have been there on the cusp but I knew I wouldn't be able to convince them to fall. Not once this week had I been able to cry. They danced along the rims, teasing me. My warped mind had come up with the idea that they were turning to poison and the longer they stayed in me, the more I would deteriorate. Currently I was a stoppered bottle. The thought had become nagging. I would have to address it soon, otherwise lose my fucking mind entirely.
"Fuck," Master hissed, at Charlotte I presumed, "No te arrojes como ella!"
"Lo siento," Charlotte's whispered reply brushed over me, "I brought you some water, Bella."
"Set it on the nightstand, please," Jasper answered shortly.
I heard the slight sound of the glass being set down before her soft footfalls faded to nothing. We were alone in the bedroom again.
I focused on my breathing and forced the images of James from my mind. Specifically, James' sneer as the pantry door was shut- that sneer being the very last look I would ever see on his face. The way his blood ran red as it arched up like a rainbow above us all when my Master pulled the trigger. I remember thinking that his blood was red. Not black the way I thought it would be. Or should be. Like his soul.
"You didn't see what you think you saw," Jasper said gently, "I held your face to me the entire time."
I must have started some sort of raved mumbling. Still, I couldn't help but to argue. I was right, I know I was right because I remembered.
"I know what I saw!" I whispered raggedly, "His blood was red! It sailed over us like an arch! His black eyes stared at me as you killed him!" I wheezed out in my panic.
Things like this happened any time someone came up behind me unexpectedly. An episode, they called it.
"Isabella," Jasper said sharply, "I swear to you, you didn't see anything!"
I crumpled bonelessly against him as another memory hit me. James' brain matter on my shirt, my fingers splattered with blood as I wiped at it, only to realize that the blood- his blood, wouldn't come off. It would never come off my hands because it would always be my fault. Tears filled my eyes again as I felt Jasper sigh and stroke my back, starting to rock us. The poison taunted me from my eyelashes and I had to do a mental exercise to divert my focus before I started obsessing.
The mattress was soft beneath my knees as I clutched Jasper's shirt in my hands. The shirt, the mattress, Him. Those were real. I could feel them. I could feel the softness of both. The solidity of Him. I had to remind myself that the memories I had, those weren't real. They were part of my nightmares that, thanks to the severe lack of sleep, were beginning to get mixed up in my mind and making me believe they were part of my reality.
"It's over," Jasper whispered, bringing me back from another triggered memory, "He has no control over you. You are stronger than him. Feel me," he said, flattening my hand against his heart, "I'm here. I'm real. You're safe."
I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, fighting my mind and focusing on the feel of the steady thud-thud of his heart as it beat beneath my fingers. It was steady, like he was steady.
I don't know how long he repeated those whispered words to me. I don't know how long we stayed wrapped up in each other on the bed. Time was meaningless to me and it passed in waves. I slowly felt my breaths return normal and the shaking subside. I forced back a yawn and rubbed my eyes. Still no tears. Ugh.
"Good girl," Jasper said with a tired smile.
I looked up into his face and saw him for what felt like the first time in ages. His eyes were darker, due in part to the dark circles beneath them. Instead of the piercing blue they usually were, they were now darker and dulled. Human, I was again reminded even with my warped mind with exhaustion and strain. My fingertips touched the puffiness below his left eye gently.
"You need sleep," I whispered to him.
"Then take the pill," he replied, just as softly, "It's as much for me as it is for you."
I looked down to my hand surprised to see the little white pill still there and whole, a white residue left behind as I picked it up between my fingers. He knew what to say to stimulate my natural behaviors. Selfless to a fault, Edward used to chide me.
"It'll help me sleep?" I guessed.
"Yes."
"I can't sleep," I insisted wearily while my eyes pleaded with him to understand, "I see things I don't want to see when I close my eyes."
"A dreamless sleep," Master countered, "This pill will allow you to sleep with no dreams."
"And you?" I asked. "What will you do?"
"I'll be right beside you, sleeping. The door will be locked. I will kill anyone who dares to try to come in." he replied firmly.
His eyebrow cocked in question as he handed me the glass of water Charlotte had left behind. I understood what he was not saying aloud in that one look.
This is your choice.
I won't force this pill down your throat.
If you take it, you will sleep.
I will sleep.
We will both finally sleep.
You will feel better.
It was far too good to pass up, so I took the water and placed the pill on my tongue, its bitterness immediately seeping into my mouth. I swallowed the water greedily and felt the pill move down my throat. I handed the glass back to my Master and saw the relief come into his eyes for just a brief second before he masked it.
"Thank you," he whispered.
I didn't say anything in reply, merely sinking against him in defeat. I was losing the battle against my brain and this was just one more piece of the war it had won. How much more could I lose before it was too much? How much was too much for him to want to deal with? At some point it would all become more than what it was worth.
My despair must have been obvious.
"You're wrong, you know." He said softly, his breath barely ruffling my hair.
"What?" I gasped, surely I wasn't talking out loud already. I knew I was probably starting to lose it but please dear Lord can I please have the dignity of private thoughts for a while longer.
"I can feel what you're feeling now — and you are worth it," he said just as quietly, "you project your emotions so strongly. By the look on your face or the way you hold yourself to the way you react to things. You may as well radiate whatever you're feeling like the sun does heat when it shines."
The fucking crazy thing was that I believed him. At his core, Jasper was logical more than anything. If I wasn't worth it to him, then he'd have either killed me, sold me off at the auction or loaned me out as entertainment to his men. Or used me as an actual slave to do his bidding and scrub his house. Or bury his bodies. Or service him sexually regardless of what I wanted. Facts were facts. He didn't allow me to be killed, he didn't allow anything to happen to me and he'd killed James for attempting to violate that. For attempting to violate me. And now he was being oh so patient as I tried to deal with it right along with everything else.
I paid passive attention as he turned us, tucking me underneath the blankets. The medicine broke down quickly and flew through my racing, wired system. I felt floaty almost as he tucked me in. His presence at my back was the only one that didn't alarm me as long as I knew that he was the one there. I made to move my arms to cuddle my pillow closer but they felt almost disconnected and uncoordinated. It took a few tries but I got what I wanted in the end, before the darkness claimed me. Before I plunged into the darkness, however, I heard the hum of a lullaby.
Time passed, as time was won't to do, but this time I did not dream. He had been right. There was no tiled floor or blonde haired monster waiting in the dark to spring and pin me to the floor. There was simply warmth, comfort and blessed rest.
I only woke once in the night and that was to Jasper sliding back into bed. I'd rolled over at some point, the pillow I'd been hugging abandoned at my back. He moved gingerly, trying hard not to wake me. He slid back to where I assumed he had been, the bed underneath my hand was rumpled and warm. I gave no indication that I was awake, nor was I even sure that I could move. He moved my hand, holding it gently in his own as he settled back in. His arm slid around me and relaxed. I hadn't realized how tense I'd become until he settled back in next to me. Now that he was back, I knew exactly what I could do to get back to sleep. His scent drove the bad things from my mind. It was one of the few things that calmed me anymore. My mind had linked it with safety, with security.
I tried to scoot closer but it felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. In response he moved to me, holding me a little tighter. The soft cotton of his shift briefly brushed against the tip of my nose, filling my olfactory with him. That's what I wanted. Since motor skills were hard to come by, I simply went liquid in his hold. It brought me right up against his chest while he was still readjusting.
This time he was the one that went rigid. Interesting, but disheartening. He remained a statue for another ten seconds before coming to the conclusion that I wasn't going to flip my shit and then slowly resumed his task. Warm fingers brushed my hair back from my face and gathered it at the nape of my neck before releasing and stroking it.
"One day, you'll get past all this. One day, probably far from now, you'll be happy. I promise." He breathed into my hair.
I was 99% sure he thought he was talking to an unconscious person but who knows. I couldn't bring myself to care either. It sounded like a promise. More than that and most importantly, it felt like one.
What would make me happy now? I wondered, floating somewhere between awake and outer space.
The word Home floated by but I wasn't sure if I knew what that was anymore. Was it my old apartment? It was my first home away from my parents, after all. Was it Charlie's in that alien green world I'd moved to? The Cullen family home? Jake's? Because I had spent just as much time at the other two as I did my own. Sometimes more. Or was Home before that? When I lived with Renee during all those hard times and all the good ones. Maybe all of it was home. Even at the thought of that though, something was missing. It was something that I wanted to ignore but since I'd started getting to know him, I found myself liking him. The him that helped his sister through the trauma of losing their parents and the trauma of her run-in with Royce and his group. The him that protected me and sheltered me from the violence that went on here. From the horror of James's execution. He'd saved me and my father from death in a fucked up way. Where ever home was, he was somewhere in there too.
I'd spoken with Rosalie the next day after my encounter with James via Facetime. It had been… bizarre. She'd been a total ice queen bitch to me the last time she'd been here, as if this was all my fault. Yet, our experiences, despite mine being incomplete especially in comparison to hers, made a bridge between us.
Jasper had taken me into his newly remade office and deposited me in my chair, then pulled out his phone and started talking to her. He'd pulled me back into orbit to say that she wanted to speak with me and that he was going to give us our privacy. At my impending meltdown, he swore that he wouldn't leave from right outside the door. That if I looked at the bottom I'd be able to see his shadow. As all systems started to calm, he handed me the phone and went outside. I watched for the shadows of his boots on the hardwood. He got comfortable and didn't move again. Leaning against the door I'd wager. Once I felt secure again I turned my attention to the phone.
Pensive was a good description for what I felt for this encounter after my other experience with her. She amazed me though. She was kind and sympathetic. She also completely threw me for a loop.
"Has Jasper ever told you how I met Emmett?" she asked right off the bat.
What the hell? She was like Jasper though, so this was going somewhere with purpose. I shook my head no and felt curiosity stir.
"I had been in Cancun for a week on vacation. I blended in there with all the tourists. It was nice to pretend that I was one of them. I had what I referred to as single serving friends. I'd join a group game. Soccer on the beach or volleyball, or bar games. I used my charm to worm my way into their group. I'd offer to be their guide in the area. Show them the best restaurants and show them Mexico without all the touristy shit. We'd have fun and when they left I'd find another set of single serving friends. I'd lather, rinse, repeat until I myself went home. I also had another reason aside from the fact that this method usually guaranteed fun without a real investment. There's safety in numbers. I could rebuff a man's advances and if he didn't get the idea, someone in my new circle would step up for me. I'd done this for a few years when vacation time rolled around with great success…" she looked around her room, a haunted shade sliding across her eyes before returning them to me.
She sucked in a breath and my heart gained an uptick in rhythm "One night…" she clenched her eyes and jaw shut. I watched in morbid fascination as she executed a breathing exercise. After a minute and a half, she opened her eyes with a shaky breath. Her blue eyes, so much like Jasper's, turned glacial with a vengeance. She squared her shoulders and soldiered on.
"One night I had had a couple drinks too many and had wandered away from my pack, back to my hotel. Someone had always walked me back to ensure my safety but that night I pretty much just headed off with no warning. I was almost there, just one street left. Then I was yanked into an alleyway. I came face to face with a guy I had told to fuck off after he didn't get the message the first two times I said it. A big guy from our group almost started a bar fight when Royce still didn't get the memo, even after the third time I delivered it. He decided to get handsy. When Royce grabbed my ass after I'd turned back around on my bar stool the guy came over, grabbed him by the collar and slung him off of me. He put himself between us. Royce may have been half drunk and extremely egotistical but he finally understood I was not to be messed with. Or so I thought," she heaved a sigh, preparing herself.
"I tried to scream but it seemed that they were ready for that. A dirty handkerchief was shoved in my mouth and Royce started wondering what I looked like without 'all the clothes on'. I'd seen him earlier in the day at the beach. He'd seen me in my bikini so there wasn't much left to imagine after that. It didn't matter though. They destroyed my dress, cutting it enough to get a grip on it, then ripping it the rest of the way. My underwear and bra followed, cut into tatters. For humiliating him earlier in the day, Royce was going to guarantee that I experienced it tenfold. I wouldn't have had anything to wear after they finished with me. I would have had to walk back to my hotel, covered only in dirt and filth. Then they began. They raped me over and over and over. Sometimes individually, usually as a group. Royce was the worst. It seemed nothing was off limits to him. He would pull me by the hair out of whatever the others were doing to me to shove me into the wall or into the ground. My face had so much bruising from the different times he would grab me by the hair and shove my face against wherever he had me pinned. As a 'grand finale', he raped me in a circle of his buddies, who were doing more than just taking in the view. After he finished in me for the last time, he allowed the others to leave only after they blew their load on me. So there I was, at the lowest low I'd ever experienced in my entire life, on the ground and covered in the worst filth I could fathom. I don't know how long I lay there before I started sobbing. I was in physical, mental and emotional Armageddon. I was apparently louder than I realized because I had attracted the attention of someone else. The closer he got, the tighter I curled in on myself and blubbered out broken pleas. I was expecting rough hands to grab me up again to either kill me or violate me more. Instead a huge tshirt was slipped onto me. The hands were gentle but they only touched me long enough to get me covered. I knew this wasn't any of the group, so I opened my eyes and found myself staring into a pair of heartbroken blue ones…" she trailed off, a hint of a smile playing at the edge of her mouth for but a moment.
"Emmett had felt guilty that he hadn't scared Royce enough to make him stay away. He felt even worse for not keeping tabs on me and was walking to check to see if I'd made it back to my room when he heard me. He took me back to my hotel, sneaking me in the back way to spare me any further humiliation. Once in the room he turned on every single light and then the shower as hot as it would go after I staunchly refused medical care. I don't know how long I sat there under the endless spray of hot water in the shirt but he didn't leave me. He sat next to the tub and held my hand despite the fact that he got halfway soaked and his skin pinked to match mine where he was hit by the water. He'd tried to leave, you see, to give me privacy and I'd latched onto him. Eventually I'd let him go so I could scrub myself raw, but he still didn't leave, just slid the shower curtain closed and sat against the tub. I would check, every so often to make sure he was still there, patting him or rubbing my hand along where I thought he was. Eventually, when I could no longer scrub my skin for fear of literally tearing it off, I shut the water off. It was then and only then that he got up and got my robe, handing it around the curtain after I had patted most of the water off." She took another deep breath and paused for a few more moments. I could see how taxing this was for her.
"After I got out, he handed me some clothes to change into and packed my things for me. He took me back to his hotel suite and turned the living room tv on to infomercials, which were all that was on by that time, to get rid of the silence. He made an icepack out of what he had on hand and gingerly treated the swelling that had started in my face. He thought that with quiet my thoughts would become too much, and he was right. Instead of feeling terrified of any and all men, I felt safe with Emmett. He tried to convince me to change into my comfiest pajamas, except they were all short shorts and camisoles. When I started stuttering out the problem he came to the rescue again, jogging off to his room for a few seconds before returning with one of his tshirts and draw string pajama pants. It was perfect. After I got changed, he tried to convince me to take the room across from his. I tried to sleep, several times. Anytime I would close my eyes for too long though, I imagined that I heard Royce's breathing, which I would be able to pick out of a room until the day I die. Then I would tear the room apart looking for them. After so long, I knew what I needed to do. So I grabbed up my pillows and my blanket and went back to the living room. Em was watching the TV, or so it seemed. His eyes were trained to the screen but you could tell he wasn't really there. I cocooned myself in the blanket and dropped to the other side of the couch, settling in. He came back from Mars, but didn't say a word, just gave me a cursory once over to see if I'd been damaged further.
"I couldn't tell you when I fell asleep. All I know is that I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that if Emmett was there, Royce would not be. I was safe. The next thing I know, strong arms were setting me down on a bed. Instead of panicking, I just grabbed his shirt in a death grip. He had to convince me to let go by promising not to leave. And so he kept his word. He slept on the far side, completely clothed and with his own blanket. It was the only reason I got any rest that night.
"Emmett avenged me that week, brutally. They disappeared, one by one, and were never found again. When it was time for him to go back home, he took me to Jasper himself. Explained what happened. Jasper looked after me while I entered therapy. Then, when I thought my savior was gone for good, he showed back up one day at Jasper's, out of the blue. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for him Bella. Or for Jasper, or for Charlotte and Peter. They'll help you, if you'll just let them. And so will we. Think about therapy, Bella. It could do you a world of good. Call me if you need anything. Even just to talk." She must have sensed that I had no desire to participate in the conversation, she didn't seem to expect for me to reply. However before I could let her go, I thanked her, putting as much gratitude as possible into it. You could tell that it had cost her to share that with me. With one last smile to me, she disconnected us.
My mind was blown to a thousand pieces. She was practically mafia royalty, yet she had been brutalized to the extreme. And here she was, standing strong and proud, as if she'd never crossed paths with Royce that fateful night with the exception of a couple of rare moments.
Surely, if she could make a comeback from that then so could I. There was hope there. The door opened a few minutes later and there he stood, tall, blonde and dangerous. Power and speed and death, all rolled into one.
Much like my view on home, it was similar when it came to him. I didn't know what anything was anymore. I was all fucked up. Down was up, left was right. My abductor was my savior, my protector. This must have been what Alice had felt like to an extent when she stumbled into Wonderland. Regardless, whatever had happened in the past, was miniscule compared to the here and now. I walked to his side, returning his phone to him. Suddenly, the landscape of my mind began to shift unexpectedly, probably with the aftermath of Rose's story. I needed the touch of a trusted person right now, I begrudgingly acknowledged.. Squeezing my eyes shut I launched myself at him. He was my anchor against my own mind. Strong arms came around me and held me tight. His deep voice shushed me as we rocked in the hallway, large hands stroked my hair and back in a soothing manner. He took me back to our room, where things didn't seem so gigantic and overwhelming. Our room then became my sanctuary.
Later that evening I was introduced via phone to Doctor Garrett Denali. That name seemed so familiar, but no matter what I did or how hard I wracked my brain, I couldn't bring the answer forward. At my acquiescence Garrett, which he insisted I call him, proposed twice weekly sessions via phone and sometimes Skype. I would give it a try. I wasn't very optimistic. Talking about my feelings wasn't exactly a strong suit of mine. None the less, I would never know if I didn't make the attempt and at this point I would give anything to have any of the old me that had been ripped out, back again.