A/N
Thank you for all of the reviews, they keep me sane.
I am enabling anonymous reviews so that those of you without an FFn account can also review. I hope no one gets mean… I'm sensitive.
Huge gratitude to: Sunshine, Orangeapeal, and Chele681, yes, Chele681 for pre-reading this chapter.
Thank you to Robsjenn for your research.
As always, thanks to PaintedTeacherLady, my beta.
Seat belts fastened? Let's see how they are doing…
Chapter Fourteen
Silence
"That's it, Bella… yes… faster, baby…"
Bella is riding me on the couch.
I hold onto her hips, but she is in control.
Quick… rough… her t-shirtless body bouncing in front of me—on me.
I feel her tensing around me, perfectly. She begins to orgasm and I thrust up into her and climax. Pressing her body into mine, I feel her…
Oh, no.
"No, no, no, Bella. Please don't cry…"
.
I wake with a jolt—another dream.
Bella…? I hear the shower running. Thank God.
Quickly, I strip off the bed linens and my boxers—both wet with my come, still warm.
For the past few nights, the routine has changed. Evenings are filled with soft caresses, nights are filled with wet dreams, and mornings are filled with shame.
I pull on clean underwear, gather the laundry, and head downstairs.
Jasper's words from the hotel come to mind:
'Once you've dined on forbidden fruit, it's hard to push yourself away from the table.'
Bastard.
I should probably call him; I could use some guidance:
Jasper, teach me about sex.
Well, Edward, what would you like to know?
When you have wild sex that results in your girlfriend hysterically crying about her emotionally abusive dead husband, what do you do?
You stop having sex, Edward.
Yep, that's what I thought.
My life isn't funny, it is ridiculous—an exercise in hypocrisy.
I load the linens and my boxers in the washing machine, start the cycle, and let the running, warm water rinse my hands.
Showerheads, a blindfold, mirrors—no wonder she broke down. What was I thinking? Bella is not a new toy, Edward; she's the woman you love. We should have gotten off in the bathtub, kissed goodnight, and gone to bed.
I decide to take a shower in the downstairs bathroom. I need some private time.
~0~
Bella fidgets nervously as we walk from the car to The Volunteer Park Café in silence. I practice my three sentences again:
Bella, my parents died in a break-in ten years ago.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.
I hope you will forgive me.
She'll ask questions, but I'm used to the questions—everyone asks the same ones.
Bella breaks the silence, "Edward, I'm going to need you on my side today."
"When am I not on your side?"
"I'm sorry, that came out wrong." Bella grabs my hand and we continue our walk. "I mean Charlie and Sue, well really Charlie, needs to believe I'm doing okay."
"Aren't you doing okay?"
"Yes, of course… gosh… You see, this is what I mean. I'm going to say something stupid and Charlie's going to throw me into his car and take me back to Forks."
I pull Bella to a stop a few doors down from the restaurant.
"Bella, calm down. You are a bright, mature woman who can take care of herself. If anyone knows that, it's your father." Nothing makes her happier than my articulation of her strength, but her smile doesn't come. Bella tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear; she is nodding, but pensive.
"And are we okay?" she asks, meeting my eyes.
"What? Yes, of course. Why would you ask that?" I ask, as if I don't know.
Bella presses her lips between her teeth and shrugs, evading my eyes.
Damn it.
I pull her into my chest and kiss the top of her head. "Sorry, Bella. I've been… sort of… not myself the last few days." Bella slides her arms around my waist andholds me firmly to her. "I was thinking about having a date night tonight. Let me take you someplace nice."
Her only response is to tighten her grip. Knowing what she needs, I sway her silently for a few moments. Maybe this is what I need. "Would you like that, Bella? Should we go out on a date tonight?"
Bella hums into my chest. "Date yes… go out, no."
"You got it." Bella lifts her head and I kiss her soft, full lips.
Stepping away, she asks, "Okay, how do I look?"
Bella took over an hour to get ready this morning. Wearing a fluffy pink sweater, Alice's high heel boots, and letting her long hair flow, she's obviously trying to make an impression on Charlie. I should have said something sooner.
"Pretty," I say, giving her another brief kiss. I take her hand again and begin to walk.
"Always?"
"Always."
~0~
"That was a good BLT." Charlie points at his empty plate and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
Bella beams at me. I knew this place would be a good pick for Charlie.
"Bella, will you show me where the restroom is?"
"Sure, Sue, I'll come with you."
The women leave Charlie and I alone to stare at each other. His silence unnerves me.
"So, Alice is doing well," I say in an effort to start a safe conversation.
Charlie takes a pack of toothpicks out of his shirt pocket and offers me one. The sharp cinnamon flavor burns my lips and makes me wonder if Charlie once smoked.
"Yeah. I'm looking forward to seeing her. And she's coming home when, Monday?"
"Yes, Monday… that's the plan."
"Good. I'm sure Bella will be happy to have her home."
"Yes," I agree. Though in reality, I'm anxious to know what Alice's arrival will mean for Bella and me.
Charlie narrows his eyes and drops his voice, "Bella looks pretty good… so she's doing okay?"
"Yes," I say brightly, "she's doing great."
"No nightmares?"
"Um… no, not really. Maybe one." Charlie nods once.
"And she hasn't said anything about coming back to Forks."
Dangerous territory, Masen.
"Um… I know she misses you… but she likes her job and…"
"I hate that job," Charlie cuts me off.
"You do? Me too…" Charlie, my compadre.
"I don't know why a person goes to college so they can have the same job they've always had… and don't get me started on the Newton family."
Oh, but I want to… please get started.
I lean in, conspiratorially, "What do you think about the whole law school vs. criminal justice question."
"Law school," Charlie says definitively. "And not criminal law. If she wanted to stay in Forks, criminal justice would be fine… but Bella wants to be in the city. I don't want her surrounded by the scum of the Earth… city scum."
"Exactly." I am nearly gloating.
"I'll tell you something, Edward…" Charlie leans in and points at me with his toothpick, "be careful of that smile you're sporting there."
I clear the expression from my face and lean back in my chair.
"The more you and I push Bella to law school, the more likely she'll go into criminal justice." I hear Sue and Bella approach behind me, and Charlie lowers his voice even further and says, "Trust me on this one."
Sue's heavy hand rests on my shoulders as Bella's rests on Charlie's.
"Alright gentlemen, I think we're all done here. Ready to go to the hospital?" Sue asks.
Simultaneously, Charlie and I reach for our wallets and call rights to pay the check.
"No, it's already settled," Sue says as Bella smiles sheepishly. Charlie and I protest and I realize the hands on our shoulders are not coincidence.
"As much fun as it would have been to see you two fight over the check…" Sue's voice reaches above ours, "Bella and I wanted to treat today—no arguments."
I glare at Bella and she bats her eyelashes in the way she does when she wins. I look at Charlie; he mirrors my glare at Sue.
"No arguments," Sue repeats.
As Charlie and I rise from the table, Sue hooks her arm around mine and says, "I'll ride with Edward."
Bella and Charlie depart from the restaurant in one direction, while Sue and I head towards my car in the other.
Wanting to give them more time together, Sue and I take our time strolling arm and arm.
"How is Charlie doing?"
"About the same as Bella."
Though I don't know what she means, I nod.
"They're recovering. Slowly, but surely, they're recovering. Bella needs to eat more, but don't push her."
"Okay."
"She'll feel better once she's wearing her own clothes again."
Before I can ask Sue what she means, she continues, "There's a silver lining in this whole mess, aside from the obvious ones. Charlie is realizing that he might be a good father after all."
"Charlie's a great father."
"Yes, I think so, too. He sure is missing Bella. He bought a cell phone with a keyboard so he can text her. Probably showing it to Bella right now."
We both smile at our images of a texting Charlie.
"Sue, I know it's a lot of driving for you two, but I'd love for you to meet Carlisle and Esme. You should come for Sunday dinner sometime."
"Carlisle and Esme… remind me, the names are familiar."
"Oh, they're friends of the family. I go there for Sunday dinners."
"Friends of the family? Your parents?
"Yes. I've been going there for years."
"Huh… How long ago did your parents die, Edward?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your parents… "
"I… um… how did you…"
"From the moment I met you, I knew you had wounds, I've been wondering where they were."
"Wounds… um… I don't…"
I pull at my hair and Sue wraps her arm more tightly around mine.
"Edward, few people possess your kind of empathy unless they've walked through that fire themselves. It's one of the gifts that come from tragedy."
I struggle between asking a million questions and wanting to keep silent, letting her talk. There is so much to learn here.
"Sue, how long ago did your husband die…? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude… do you mind me asking?"
"It's not rude at all. Let's see… when did he die? A lifetime ago… yesterday… going on fifteen years, to be exact." Sue sighs, and it is almost a hopeful sound. "I'm still recovering. That's what we do. We get strong enough for when the next blow comes, and in-between, we love and laugh and take walks with friends."
We walk in silence for a few more moments and Sue looks over to me. "Sorry, Edward. I didn't mean to make life sound so depressing. I have the tendency to do that. Life is good." Sue says these words with such unwavering confidence, it gives me hope. "When you think you've reached your capacity for love, you find a whole new level you didn't know existed. Do you know what I mean, Edward?"
"Um… it makes sense. So, you mean other people… well… Charlie sort of filled the void?"
"Yes and no. It took me a long time to see that my feelings for Charlie did not take away an ounce of love for Harry. Charlie isn't just filling a void; it's much more than that. I've had two great loves in my life and each is completely different from the other."
"Oh, that's nice."
"Yes, it is. So, what's your story?"
"My parents died in a break-in ten years ago."
"And are you recovering?"
"I think so."
We reach the car and I open the door for her. "Sue, can I ask you something else?"
"Yes, Edward. You will make mistakes, but in the end, you and Bella will be fine."
I gape at her as her grin widens. This woman is not real.
"We'll be fine, but will we be together?"
"I am a wise Quileute woman, Edward, not a fortune teller."
"Right… sorry."
Sue rests her hand on my cheek and looks into my eyes for a long while. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was reading my fortune. "I'd say the odds are in your favor."
"Thanks."
~ooOoo~
Click
Bella, my parents died in a break-in ten years ago.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.
I hope you will forgive me.
"Edward… do you want to watch a movie? We could… um… make it like a date movie."
Oh. Date night… I forgot.
Click
Bella, my parents died in a break-in ten years ago.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.
I hope you will forgive me.
"Edward?"
"Um… I don't care, you can put one on."
Click
Bella, my parents died in a break-in ten years ago.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.
I hope you will forgive me.
"Edward… is that… is that dangerous?"
"Is what dangerous?"
Click
"Turning the fireplace on and off like that."
I scoff. "This isn't a fireplace, it's a glorified gas oven…" I turn it back on.
Click
"Bella, a fire is not something you turn on and off with a switch. Look at it… there's no life here… no smell of burning wood… you can't move it, awaken it… no crackling embers… it's silent… dead… fake."
Bella sits quietly on the couch for a long time. She's barely said a word since dinner. Maybe I've barely spoken. I don't know.
"Should we call it an early night and head up?" Bella's careful voice is distant, falling away from me. "We have church in the morning," she continues, "are we going to Carlisle and Esme's for dinner?"
"No." Oh, the freedom to say no. But I can't take this misery… I can't prolong this… "Yes… maybe we'll go."
"Are your parents going to-"
"No," I snarl under my breath.
The deadline is here. My breathing becomes labored. I begin to sweat. What was I going to say again? My parents were murdered… no… they passed away… they died… and I should have saved them… I can run fast…
.
I'm stretching out across the bottom of my parents' bed watching TV with them.
There is a loud thumping downstairs, the sound of cracking wood, a crash.
I hear my mother's hushed, terrified voice as she says to my father, "Edward, the phone is dead."
My father's hand is crushing my wrist as he yanks me out of paralysis and pulls me to my bedroom. "Under the bed. Don't make a sound."
In my bedroom, I am terrified.
.
In this condo, I am dizzy. My arms, outstretched, clutching onto the mantel… I can't breathe.
"Edward…" Oh God, she's right behind me, "let me help you… what do you need?"
What do I need? I need, I want…
Hot coal, in the shape of Bella's hands, sears into my back. I flex and arch away.
My mouth dries; I cannot swallow. Cannot speak.
Bella speaks, but I cannot understand her words through the buzzing in my ears.
"Edward… help… talk… make love…" Are the only words I can decipher.
I turn to her and see a blur of pallid skin.
This is what I want: Make love… Sex… Fuck… Distraction …
My mouth pools with saliva.
My hands are holding her head, my tongue down her throat.
And I am walking her backwards.
And I am pulling her bottom lip between my clenched teeth.
And I am twisting her away from me.
And I am yanking down jeans, loosened by grief.
And I am bending her over the arm of the sofa.
And I am shoving my hand down white cotton innocence.
And I am dragging fingers over folds of dry flesh.
Dry flesh.
I see a hand smashing her ribs into the sofa cushion.
My hand.
Christ.
I stumble back until my spine hits the wall.
Lights and sound intensify. Psychedelically blinding, deafening. My world looks too crisp, surreal.
Bella pulls on her jeans and turns to me, looking ashamed. Ashamed? I look away. "I'm sorry, Edward…" Sorry? "I want to do this for you. I'm not… my body's not ready yet. I need a few minutes."
This whole scene is repulsive.
My stomach churns and my body makes decisions my mind cannot.
I find myself upstairs. Pulling on sweats. Slipping on running shoes over too-thin socks. I am downstairs again to find Bella frozen in the same place.
"I'm going for a run."
"Yes. Good idea." We don't meet eyes.
"I'll be back."
"I know."
"Lock the door; I have my key."
"I will."
From my peripheral vision, I see Bella nod. I should look at her, but I can't.
My mind is fragmented, but my body complete, alive. I am flying down flights of stairs. I am jogging through the lobby, wanting to run. I am bursting out into the night air and feeling the cool wind break across my face.
And I am free, running, sprinting toward the water. I hit my rhythm and turn north down the path, pumping my arms and striking the blacktop with each long stride.
I can run fast.
I could always run fast, and tonight, I do.
Weaving my way around casual cyclists and late-night joggers, my mind clears of every thought but one—run.
Adrenaline propels me. For miles, I run like a cat—swift, graceful, silent.
Her voice, 'I'm sorry, Edward. I want to do this for you…'
No!
My legs are springs, but my lungs are heavy. I turn off the path and find myself alone, running along the train tracks.
Cargo bins and empty train cars, a story high, line my route. Soot scrapes my throat, but I push harder. Stumbling along the gravel, I lose the rhythm of breathing. I am gasping, short on air. Arms and legs flail as I try to slow my momentum. Grabbing the fence that separates me from the water, I stop the force that is my body.
I bend at the waist and clutch my thighs, wheezing. Shockwaves pulse throughout my muscles and ears.
Oxygen brings thought, memory, emotion. Images from tonight and that night flit like a horror show behind my eyes. I look down at my hand. Yes, it was my hand.
Why, God?
Have I not suffered enough?
Have I not caused enough suffering?
How could I hurt her like that?
I drop my knees to the gravel surface—the pain stops the images.
What has happened to me?
I fall onto my back and stare at the starless sky then force the heel of my hands into my eyes.
I am a sexual deviant. A monster awakened. Did that actually happen? She won't forgive me. She shouldn't forgive.
She already has—she's apologized.
No, no, no.
She's forgiven Mike for worse.
I bury the thought.
Stretching out my hand in front of me, I make a fist then splay my fingers, feeling the clicks that still remain from my injured knuckles. My hand.
I raise my second hand to the night sky and turn them—palm, to back, and over again. Where are they? I search for the faint marks on the back of my hands—scars only visible to me and, when my eyes adjust to the dark, they appear—my private scars.
Like dead weight, my arms flop open and hit the cold rocks. With my eyes closed, I pray for my body to liquefy and seep into the Earth. Let me disappear, Lord.
Only two weeks ago—who was I two weeks ago?
I was happy, wasn't I?
But oh, so fucking lonely.
I'm lonely now.
Tears stream from my eyes to my ears.
I want my mom and dad.
I pull my sweat jacket over my face to muffle my bawling, but I still hear the echo bouncing back to me from the water. I roll to my side and curl my head into my arms, praying again to disappear.
I sob my way through confusion and self-loathing until there is nothing left.
Please God, let me know you're here tonight. Let me know you're listening. It's childish to ask—but please give me a sign. Let me know you still love me.
My surroundings are silent; there is no sign. I roll to my back and open my eyes. Far beyond the thick layer of clouds, I see something. One star. One faint, but visible, star in the sky.
God of Mercy, you are here, aren't you? That star is my sign. That star is you. Tears flow again as I stare at the celestial being above me and follow it with my eyes as it slowly glides across the sky.
Wait.
That's not a sign; that's an airplane.
Oh, fuck it. I'll take what I can get.
I sit up, reach for the fence and hoist myself up.
Not yet ready to go back to the condo, I continue running, away from the trains. I need to find clarity, understanding… I need time to pray.
I run for several miles without thought. It is meditative; I can hear, but not feel my feet pound the pavement. My body is at ease, my mind calm.
The first image that materializes in my mind is my mother's face. Alive. Her entire being glows as she sees my father return from another trip to Seattle. We watch him from the living room window emerging from a taxicab, suitcase in one hand, a trench coat folded over his arm.
Mom opens the front door and he drops his suitcase. Their bodies crash into an embrace. My father straightens his long frame, lifting my mother off her feet. They don't kiss, just hug. He sways her before resting her back down and reaching for me.
"Did you take care of Mom for me?" Dad brings me into a hug and I feel Mom's hand in my hair.
"I tried." And I did; I would do anything to make them proud.
"Edward was a big help around the house this week." I look down at my mother's smile. Even at age fourteen, I surpassed her height.
"Edward…" my father speaks to me, but looks at my mother for approval, she nods and he continues, "how would you like it if we all moved to Seattle?"
"Move?" But I have so many friends here. I'm shy… I don't want to meet new friends.
"Your mother and I met a very good real estate agent. We told her everything we needed in a new house and we told her you needed a high school with an excellent baseball team. I think we found one."
"Really?" You did that for me?
"Edward, it will mean that your father won't have to leave on any more trips. Would you like that?"
"Yeah… Yes," I correct myself, "I'd like that. I don't want you to go away anymore."
"Good, son. I don't want to go away anymore, either. We should go inside. We have a big 'to do' list to write."
I miss living in the bubble of love.
I see Discovery Park. I must be close to seven or eight miles from the condo—from Bella.
I loop back around and plan my return route through the streets of Seattle.
A second memory emerges. I'm with Tanya, upstairs at a fraternity party. She has me pressed against the wall in a desolate hallway. Small piles of trash and the odor of stale beer are everywhere. I'm holding both of our piss warm beers in plastic cups as she kisses my sweaty neck. I'm trashed, horny, and so fucking hard.
Why am I thinking about this?
I run through the streets of Magnolia, now feeling the unforgiving road with each step.
"Come on, Edward. It'll feel so good. I'll make you feel so good," she says in a silky voice, and smelling of sweet perfume. I look down her gaping top and see the curves of her breasts, the lace of bra. Her nipples look so hard. I want to feel how hard they are… I want to feel with my lips and tongue. Tanya brushes her hand over my throbbing erection, strained against my jeans.
"I can't." I tip my head back against the wall, closing my eyes.
She pulls my head down and whispers in my ear, "My pussy's so wet for you."
I groan and pulse harder. Torture.
She strokes me more firmly. "I want to feel this inside of me."
I turn my head and try to curb my slurred speech, "Other things… we can do other things. You know I can't have sex… not before marriage."
Even as I say it, I don't know if it is true—if this is the real reason. Maybe I don't want to have sex with you, I want to say. Maybe I don't want to have sex with anyone.
"I'll be gentle," she says and starts to giggle. She's laughing at me—don't laugh at me. "Isn't that what they say? I'll be gentle?" She continues to giggle.
"Don't… don't do that, Tanya."
"You're right. I'm sorry, Edward." She sounds sincere. Tanya softly kisses her apology. As she pulls away, I lean in, prolonging the kiss. I still want to kiss her.
"I'll make it up to you." Tanya drops to her knees and unbuttons the top button of my jeans. Oh God. Not here, someone could walk by. I want to stop her but I'm still holding the beers. Why am I holding these beers? I toss them away, adding to the trash and smell.
"Don't… stop…" I take her upper arms and pull her up.
"Oh, Edward," she's defeated, "you don't expect me to wait forever, do you?"
"I didn't know you were waiting."
She sighs and shakes her head. Did I hurt her feelings?
"Such a waste." Tanya kisses me again, but this time, it's platonic. "Good bye, Edward, and good luck."
I watch her walk down the hall. "Tanya, wait…" She raises her hand, a final goodbye, and heads down the stairs.
My body is aching, my legs are heavy, but I have a few more miles to go.
Why these memories? Why together? My life was ordered, simple. I had Jasper, Carlisle, Esme, and God… what more could I want? What more could I handle?
Isabella Swan is a mother fucking curve ball… but I love that curve ball.
The last wave of endorphins kicks in and I ride my runner's high.
Yes, you are a curve ball, Bella. And I'm going into that condo—our home—drop to my knees, and tell you I love you. Damn it, maybe I'll propose tonight. And I'm going to tell you all about the worst night of my life, I'll probably weep like a baby, but I don't care, because I love you and I want to be completely honest with you. I want you to know me—all of me.
I see The Vine in the distance and the sight alone pulls me into it like a magnet. That is where my Bella is waiting for me. Oh, my body protests, I feel each muscle, ligament, and joint giving me its last, dying bit of energy. My feet are on fire… each step a brief eruption of pain.
Pulling off my sweat jacket, I stumble through my last steps to the door.
I'm panting for air, but euphoric.
I pass through the lobby—the concierge is gone. It must be late… I'm not wearing a watch.
Pressing the elevator button, I give up waiting for an appropriate time and place; these shoes must come off. I take them off to find I'm still wearing grey dress socks. They are fused to my feet by deep red circles of blood.
The elevator opens and I enter. With care, I pull off each sock and several layers of blistered skin, wincing at the pain. Tucking the socks into my sneakers, I look down at my raw, bloody, feet. My muscles are already starting to tighten. I am feeling the pain.
The elevator pings, the door opens, and…
"ALICE!"
That's Bella. Her screaming voice hits me in the chest. I drop my shoes and run for the door. I fumble for the key in the small pocket in the waistband of my sweatpants.
"No! Alice!"
Oh God. Not Alice… no please, not Alice. I unlock the first bolt. My hands are shaking so badly, I can't get the key into the second lock—metal scrapes against metal as I try to slip the key into the keyhole. Pounding my open hand against the door, I yell to her, "Bella, I'm coming… I'm here…" But her screams continue. God, help me.
Another lock… and another… Fuck these locks…
"Bella! I'm coming!"
I open the last lock and explode through the door, following her voice into the living room.
Bella is on her knees, slamming her hands against the window glass so forcefully, it could shatter.
It takes a split second for me to realize she's dreaming.
I run to her, grab her waist, and lift her off the ground. "Wake up, Bella!"
"No! I won't leave you Alice…" Her arms and legs flail; he whole body strives to wrestle out of my grip.
I fall back onto the floor with her. Please help me.
"No Mike, let me go," she demands through gritted teeth.
"Wake up, Bella… It's Edward, not Mike… Please wake up." I say, shaking her.
Twisting to the side, she breaks free from my sweaty grip and crawls back to the window. She's so strong, fast... lost.
I reach out and grab her ankles, dragging her back to me on her stomach. Her thin camisole twists into a cord of fabric above her breasts.
Using more force than I should, I turn her away from the glass, throw her on her back and straddle her body.
Trying to buck me off with her hips and landing rapid-fire slaps against my face, she screams through her dream. Still begging for her to wake, I grab her arms and throw them above her head with thud, stretching my body out, pinioning hers to the ground.
She silences.
Staring up at me, her cloudy, black eyes crystallize.
We stare at each other, frozen, as we catch our breaths.
In a tone so cold, it makes me shiver, she whispers, "Get off of me."
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Next update, one week (maybe sooner).
Love,
Liz x