A/N: I wanted to share a special review with you guys. It's from Rebadams7 and it's beautiful. It's the poem right before the chapter and it makes me smile and cry, all at once. Enjoy. :) Thanks, girl!

Thank you, Softragoo-like always, you keep my nose from hitting the pavement and you cover me whilst I'm urinating in the snow behind people's house. Figuratively speaking, of course. *coughcough*

Happy New Year, Everyone! I'm a recluse who hates crowds so I'm at home, typing on my computer as the New Year's rings in. I hope I'm not alone. :-)

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all characters.

Winters chill
Spreads to June
Icy fingers cling
Though miles between
Protect the pall
Freedom calls
But cannot break
The bonds In a day
Over bones and breaks
The heart trusts not
The light still shines
The soul still breathes
The hope remains
In a heart so grieved
-Reb

Chapter Three-Tighten Up

"It's Bella," Emily said to Sammy who had ice cream covering the entire lower half of his face. His chubby cheeks bunched as he grinned.

"Bebba," Sammy said then looked up at me.

"Beeelllla," Emily tried again.

"Bebba."

"Beeell-llllaaa."

"Bebba."

I laughed. This was more entertaining than watching television.

"Bell—"

"Beb—"

"LLAA"

"Baa!"

Emily looked up at me, defeated. "He's a lost cause."

"It's okay," I said, laughing. "Bebba has a nice ring to it."

"Do you want to see my karate outfit? It's super cool!"

I swallowed the ice cream I had stuffed into my mouth and nodded.

"I'll go put it on!"

Then she was off, running down the hall like her rear was on fire.

Edward was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, watching me curiously. It made me nervous when Emily wasn't in the room because I felt pressure to talk to him.

"So, what is it that you do, Bella?" he asked.

It was a simple question but I had to think about it. There were parts of my life that I needed to lie about and with frayed nerves, each answer was important.

He grew impatient. "Do you have a job?"

"Yeah, I just started at Blossom's Bookshelf down on Eleventh," I told him.

I needed to relax or my teeth were going to start chattering.

"What about you?" I asked.

The tip of his tongue poked out and wet his bottom lip. "I work in Maintenance over at The Social Services building." Hence the scary gray overalls he wore.

I nodded, and awkward silence filled the room. Sammy was even dozing off.

"I just met the new tenant across the hall," I told him.

He rubbed his knuckles against the side of his face. "Yeah? I wish he would hang around in the hall long enough for me to meet him. I've only seen him at a distance."

There was no mistaking the animosity in his voice.

"He seemed nice enough," I offered.

Edward scoffed. "Guy kept the kids and me up one night until 3am blaring his ffff…"—he glanced down at Sammy—"stupid music."

"He told me that if it ever bothered me to knock on his wall and he'd turn it off."

He put his empty ice cream bowl down on the end table with a clang. I jumped. He didn't notice because he was too busy fuming about the new renter.

"Rose went over and knocked on his door but he didn't even acknowledge her. She said he apologized the next day but I don't trust him. Looks at Rose like he wants to rip her clothes off and lick her sideways."

I cleared my throat and attempted to change the subject. It was seriously pissing him off and his jerky movements were making the ice cream taste bad. "How long have you and Rose been together?"

His eyebrows twitched upward then he smirked as he shook his head. "Oh, Rose and I aren't…we're not…"

My eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry…I just thought that…never mind."

He waved me off with a flick of his wrist. "Ah, it wouldn't be the first time. Rose is married and I'm a good friend of her husband's so I'm helping her out while he's…away."

"Where is he?" I asked.

His knuckles grazed the scruff of his chin; a nervous habit, perhaps. "I think you'd better ask Rose that, if you ever get comfortable with her."

I nodded in understanding.

"What about you? What brought you to Chicago all the way from Seattle?" he asked then added, "Surely, they have bookstores in Washington."

The ice cream sat in my stomach like a brick. I wasn't a good liar and he seemed intuitive enough to see right through me. So, I decided to play it his way because I figured he would respect a girl with secrets instead of fibs.

"Ask me that when you're more comfortable around me," I told him.

"Touché," he said.

Just then, Emily came bounding out of her room in a karate outfit: Long, white pants, a white top and a red belt that wrapped around her tiny waist twice. She put her hands up in a defensive manner and faced Edward.

"Not now, Em, my belly is all full of ice cream. I'll vomit all over ya'," he said, grimacing.

She bounced from foot to foot. "Uncle Edward taught me all my moves. He's my instructor!"

I raised my eyebrows at him. A bead of sweat rolled down my spine and I sat back against the couch.

"I'm not an instructor," he confessed. "I just know some things."

Emily bounced on her feet some more and threw some phantom punches at Edward. He didn't even flinch as he looked up at her, unimpressed.

"If you hit me, girl, you're goin' down," he told her.

She giggled and she swiped at him, barely missing his nose.

He bent his head, putting his chin to his chest and looked up at her. "I'm warning ya'."

"Come on, Edward, show me what you got!" she baited.

Then her hand flew out, she lost her footing and she conked Edward in the nose. His hands cupped his injured face as he leaned back on the couch. Rage boiled in his eyes as he looked up at Emily. He was going to hurt her. I could see it in the way his body tensed. The way his eyes narrowed. I willed myself to do something…anything but the coward in me wouldn't go near him. I'd been beat hundreds of times by one man and my self-preservation wasn't going to let another bruise form on my skin with thanks to another.

But she's just a little girl, I thought to myself as he uncupped his nose. Emily stared at him with wide eyes, as he dabbed his nostrils with his palm, checking for blood. Why wasn't she running? Maybe running made it worse. With James, running and hiding were part of the game. Perhaps, with Edward it was forbidden and the punishment would only be more severe.

My legs twitched to get up and rescue her. My mouth opened but no noise would come out.

"What did I say, Emily?" he asked in a calm but fearsome tone.

She swallowed. "I can't remember."

His eyes narrowed further. "I told you not to hit me; I told you that I'd get ya'."

Her body reacted and she turned to run from him but he was too fast. His arms grabbed her around the waist and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing. The strength of his arms, the solidness of his chest and the sound of his growl made the room shrink and I felt like I was drowning.

As he laid her across his lap, the sound of his voice gave me force to stand.

"You better not do that again, Emily," he growled. "I'll make sure you—"

She squealed. I opened my mouth to shout but was interrupted by a sound. It was a light and airy sound that helped my lungs find breath. Giggles. Emily was giggling. Edward was…tickling her?

"I told you what I would do, Em!" His tone was so angry, frightening, and livid but his fingers were gentle as they probed her ribs. She squealed and kicked on his lap but her efforts were fruitless.

"Stop…please…stop!" she said between giggles. "I'm…sorry!"

"You must not test your sensei!" he said in a horrible Asian accent.

Emily glanced over at me and blinked, the smile vanishing slowly off her face. Edward's gaze followed hers and his brows pulled together.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Huh?" My voice cracked. I tried to picture myself but couldn't so I looked down at my body. My hands were balled into fists and my thighs shook from the tension built up in my muscles. I relaxed minutely and asked, "What?"

"Uh…you're…uh…" Edward stuttered.

"Why are you crying?" Emily asked, rising off of Edward's lap.

I opened my mouth to tell them that I wasn't and it would be ridiculous if I were but when I put my fingertips to my cheek, I felt the silky wetness that laid a trail from my eyelids to my chin. Humiliation and stupidity filled me from the inside and I grimaced.

"I have to go—I'm sorry."

On my way out the door, they may have been calling my name. Possibly, I heard Emily tell me to stay because she wanted me to watch Grease with her. There was even some rustling, as if they were following me. But I didn't look back and I didn't answer them. I simply ran across the hall, pulling my keys from my pocket on the way there. It took three tries for my shaky hands to get the key in the hole but when they found the destination, I twisted and pushed with all my might. The door flung open so hard that it banged as it hit the wall.

After locking the door behind me, I fled to my corner—the safest place in the apartment—and planted my bottom. It was like coming home to an old friend. If only it had warm, strong arms to embrace me or the ability to whisper comforting words in my ear.

I yearned to call my Dad. With my eyes closed, I pictured him pacing in the kitchen, trying his damndest to figure out where I was. What had James told him? Did he even call him? He had to know at this point because he was planning on flying to Oklahoma the following week. Either, he flew out and discovered my absence or James had called him and told him I was missing. Probably, he flew out anyway to use his detective skills to peruse the house. Would he find the blood I had spilled on the mattress underneath the cotton sheets? Would he see the cracked mirror—that had never been replaced—in the upstairs bathroom and see the imprint of James' fist like I had every time I saw it? I hoped not because then James would panic and have reason to harm him.

My father was not a fool and he wasn't weak but James was slippery and smart. He'd watch my Dad's face for signs of suspicion and immediately take action.

"Actions speak louder than words," James had told me once when I profusely apologized one evening for leaving a spot of dried toothpaste on the sink. His house and his wife were his pride and what would his friends think if both were a mess?

"Tell me with actions, Bella, how sorry you are," he growled through gritted teeth.

And I did. But he helped me by pointing out dirty spots along the rim of the toilet—plunging my face in the water until I gagged for breath. Then he'd toss me in the shower and spray me with scalding hot water.

Then he'd take me to bed. I could take the punches in the gut, the kicks in the ribs but what happened in that bedroom was by far the worst of it. He couldn't get any enjoyment out of the act unless I was terrified.

I was at his mercy twenty four hours a day.

When I opened my eyes, the apartment was dark. I had dozed off. With an ache in my side and a sore neck, I rose from my corner and scampered around to turn on every light. I wasn't satisfied until it was done and when it was, I sat down on the couch and took a deep breath. When I closed my eyes again, I visualized Edward and Emily's face when they noticed me crying.

I wondered if I would ever be normal again. I'd been normal for mostly my entire life so why had nine months taken every reasonable thought out of my head? There were women who lived with men like James for years and were able to keep their wits about them: Find a new life, marry another man, and have children. I was weak and I blamed it on my gentle upbringing with parents who never lifted a hand against me. I blamed it on myself for not seeing the signs in the very beginning. Had there been signs?

My brain hurt from thinking about it and my eyes ached from exhaustion. With heavy limbs, I carried myself to the bedroom and fell flat on the mattress. For once, I welcomed the nightmares, hoping that if my subconscious found the strength to stand up to him, just once, I could beat this thing. I could learn to trust again. I could look at a man and not imagine how quickly he could have me on my knees but see him as a person. Someone gentle who had the ability to love. That man had to exist somewhere or was my father the only one?

As I felt myself being lost to the unconscious realm of bloody fists and hateful words, I doubted that I'd ever see normal again.

The next day, I felt abnormally tired as I dove into a new shipment of books that Esme had acquired at an auction. None of the titles or the Authors looked familiar so I stopped focusing after a while. I'd pull one out, glance at it and throw it in the clearance bin. Luckily, I was too drowsy to think much on what had happened the day before. My brain was foggy. My eyes ached and burned.

"Whoa! Whoa ! Whoa!" Esme exclaimed as she pulled one of the ostracized books out of the clearance bin. "This is a rare find!"

I looked at the title and my eyes widened. It was The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. She peered inside the cover and her mouth fell agape.

"An American first edition! This goes behind the glass!" She smiled at me and put it on the counter behind her. "How does that qualify as clearance bin material, Bella?"

As I blinked, I reveled in the feeling of the lubrication my eyelids offered my eyeballs. "I'm sorry, Esme! I…didn't…I'm so glad you caught that!"

Her excited expression became concerned as she stepped toward me. "What's going on? You look really tired today and by the way you're sifting through these books, I'd say that your brain matches your eyes."

I sighed and sat down on a wooden stool. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

Her eyebrows danced on her forehead. "Just last night?"

I frowned. "Well, most nights I don't sleep well."

"Bella, I really don't want to press you but I'm here if you want to talk about anything. Obviously, there are some things that you need to get off your chest and I'm not a threat. I promise."

Her eyes told me that her offer was genuine. The way that she watched me, as I slumped on the stool and blinked lazily, was the way my Mom used to look at me during my final exams in junior high—with concern and sympathy. I almost gave in and told her everything. My mouth even opened and I planned the first sentence of my story: "I met James my sophomore year of college…" But when I tried to speak, nothing would come out of my voice box. I snapped my mouth closed and frowned at the floor with defeat.

She placed her hand on my arm. "It's okay, Bella. I don't hold it against you and I don't take offense. Just know that if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

I nodded and stood, diving back into the bin.

"Why don't you clean the bookshelves instead," she offered.

"I think that's a good idea," I replied.

The rest of the afternoon, I scrubbed shelves and cleaned carpets as customers came and went. During the lulls, I'd hear a joyous squeak come from behind the counter where Esme had come across another good find.

"I'm going to go those auctions more often," she said as she chewed on a bite of sandwich. "In fact, maybe you could start going for me as a representative for Blossom's Bookshelf."

I cringed when I imagined myself in a crowd of people, trying my best not to freak out when I caught a hint of a cropped head of blonde hair.

"Where did you come up with the name for your shop? It's a very unique name," I said, changing the subject.

She shot me a smile and took a sip of soda. "Blossom was a nickname that Carlisle had given to our daughter when she was a baby."

"I didn't know that you have a daughter, Esme!" I said, excited to talk about something happy for once. "Why was Blossom her nickname?"

A chuckled came from deep in her chest before she answered, "I had a C-section so I wasn't conscious when she was delivered. Carlisle said he held her after the nurses checked her out and he admitted to me a few weeks later that he thought something was wrong with her." My brows came together with concern but she waved me off, smiling at the memory in her head. "He said that she had a squished little pink face that looked like a piglet. Her eyes were small slits and her mouth was in a constant pucker."

I didn't have the courage to come right out and confirm that Esme's husband thought their daughter was ugly at birth. Esme read my thoughts and nodded in reaction to my stunned expression.

"He said that he'd seen newborn puppies with cuter mugs," she admitted.

"Did…did you get angry with him?"

"At first, I was but then he told me that a few days after her birth, when we took her home, he was holding her. I was asleep in the bedroom and she started crying, hungry for a feeding. When he swept her up, she opened her eyes and looked at him and he saw her for what she really was—beautiful. He said it was as if she had blossomed overnight so…hence her nickname. She hated it in junior high but eventually, she came to love it. It was a special thing, just between her and her father."

I smiled and my heart warmed at the image of Esme nursing an infant. She was probably an amazing mother.

"Does he still call her that?"

Her expression grew somber. "Sometimes he does…when he speaks of her."

With my brain still stuck in a state of fog, I didn't give her answer much consideration. In my more rested moments, I would have interpreted the answer correctly. Instead, I asked a really stupid question. "Do you not speak to her anymore?"

She cleared her throat and threw her half-eaten sandwich in the trash can. "She died three years ago."

I swallowed, the sound invading the silence with a soft plunk. My first reaction was to apologize but I figured she had heard enough of that in the past three years. So, I shifted my eyes away from her, giving her privacy so she could pass the moment in private.

"You remind me a lot of her, you know," she offered.

My eyes found hers and my heart sank. Unshed tears glistened as she spoke and her chin trembled. I found my own chest starting to ache and a lump forming in my throat. With a sip of soda, I tried to wash it down but it sat there, unhinged.

"I do?"

She nodded and forced a small smile. "You're beautiful, polite and incredibly smart."

I snorted. "I almost tossed a first edition, today."

Her sad smile turned into a genuine chuckle. "I'll let it slide this once but next time, I'm taking it out of your hide." She glanced at her watch. "It's time for you to get going. Get some sleep tonight, Bella."

"Thanks, Esme."

I grabbed my bag and roped it around my shoulder. Before I gave it too much thought, I covered her hand with mine. "You know, if you have a need to talk, I'm here, too. I know you don't know me very well but I'd be glad to listen."

She took me by surprise and wrapped me in a warm hug. It was a real hug. Not one of those barely touching hugs that result in some pats on the back. Her arms squeezed around my ribs and I found mine snaking around her shoulders. It felt really, really good.

I woke up Wednesday, with a feeling that nothing would go right for me. It was my day off, the sun was shining and Jake was playing some crappy rap song at full blast. The bass thumped at the walls, making the entire building vibrate. While I was in the shower, I dropped the soap at least ten times, the hot water ran out half-way through and the shower liner kept sticking to my back.

My toe caught the edge of the vanity and I hobbled my way into the bedroom. As I sipped on my first and only cup of coffee for the day, I burnt my tongue. My grilled cheese for lunch turned out soggy. I'd finally gotten to the part where The Scotsman deflowered The Virgin—making the book completely boring—and I'd read all my other books.

To say that I was a little freaked out when I heard a knock on my door a little before dinner time would be an understatement. If this day was continuing the way it had started, it would most likely be James with steak knife in his hand and a smile on his face behind the wooden door.

"It's me! Rose!"

Even though I was bored out of my mind, babysitting hadn't made it on my wish list that day. However, I couldn't refuse the woman because even though I didn't really know her, I had to respect the way she balanced her life. Two kids, no husband and a third shift job.

I opened the door, scrambling to think of some excuse, and found a smiling Rose on the other side. Sammy sat on her hip, fiddling with her large hoop earring.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi."

"You busy?" she asked.

"Uh…actually, I was just getting ready to start dinner and there's this thing I have to do for work that…it's really important."

She sneered and glared at me. "I thought you worked at a bookstore or something."

I was sure that Edward had told her about the whole freak out episode but I was surprised to hear that he'd told her where I worked. If it had been me, I wouldn't be able to get past the crying-for-no-freaking-reason thing.

"I do," I replied. "I just…I have to…"

She rolled her eyes and waved me off. "I'm not going to ask you to babysit, for fff…"—she eyed Sammy—"Gosh sakes. I was wanting to know if you'd like to join us for dinner."

My eyebrows rose and I smiled at the thought of company. "Yeah, that would be nice. Should I bring anything?"

She grinned. "You got any wine?"

"No, but I have orange soda," I offered.

"Cool. We'll pour it in wine glasses and pretend."

Half an hour later, I was sitting on their couch being serenaded to every song in Grease. Emily wasn't a half bad singer but Rose had some serious pitch problems. I humored them by closing my eyes and swaying, pretending that it was such a beautiful sound that I was completely relaxed.

"Tell me more, tell me more…" Emily belted out.

"Hey, Bella, would you mind helping me out with this for a second?" Rose asked from the kitchen.

I went to stand but Emily grabbed my hand ferociously, then she proceeded to whine, "Noooo! Mom! We're almost to the good part!"

"Emily Grace..." she scolded.

That was all it took. Emily pouted but let my hand go.

"Hey, let me know when it comes on and I'll come back."

She cheered up a little at that but still looked put out.

"She's ecstatic that you're here," Rose said. "Could you mash those potatoes for me?"

I looked around the counter for the mixer. "Sure, where's your…"

She threw a metal utensil at me.

"We do it like the Colonials," she teased.

I took a long look at the curvy metal at the end of the handle and shrugged. Couldn't be too hard, I thought, and proceeded to mash.

"Does she have a lot of friends in the area?" I asked.

Rose shook her head. "Nah. The school system is full of delinquents who prey on girls like her. She's too gullible to go flouncing about with the kids around here. They'll jump on her and try to convert her."

"Convert her?"

"Yeah, you know, gangs," she replied.

My eyes widened. "She's only, what, ten?"

Her face twisted up in disbelief. "There was an eight year old boy beat up a few months ago—gang related."

"Geeze," I answered. "So, I'm her newest toy?"

"Brand spanking new," she said with a chuckle. "She's just like her Daddy when it comes to enthusiasm—their faces don't hide a thing."

I smiled and cleared my throat. "Does her father live close?"

"Emmett is in Pekin," she said, focusing on the roasted chicken she'd just taken out of the oven.

"Is that in Illinois?"

She looked over and blinked at me. "Sorry, I forget that you aren't from the area. Pekin is a couple hundred miles away; he's at FCI Pekin." I shook my head, still confused and she sighed in response. "He's in prison, Bella."

After that bit of information, I focused on mashing the potatoes because I wasn't sure where to go with the conversation. She was opening up to me and I was grateful but I was out of my element. I'd never met anyone who had been to prison or even knew anyone who had a family member in prison. My father was a cop for God's sakes. Curiosity welled up inside me and not just the good old human nature kind. If Emily's father was in prison for violence, I was leaving that night. I wouldn't live somewhere that would be the home of someone who could turn into James. The war had turned James into a monster; what would prison do to someone with already violent tendencies.

"I know you've got questions, so just ask, already," she blurted.

When I kept my mouth shut, she took the masher out of my hands and set it down on the counter.

"Bella, I get these…crazy notions about people. Sometimes, I meet people or pass by them on the street and I can almost feel the bad flowing out of their pores. And other times, I can sense the goodness in them. The first time I saw you, I could tell that you were scared; but I could also feel the goodness in you. I believe that you were sent here by something…or someone…I don't know, but you're here for a reason.

"I don't just tell everyone I meet about Emmett. No one at my job knows and only a couple people in my family know. When I tell you about where he is, I'm opening myself up for questions. I expect it." She folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows at me. "So, shoot."

I decided to skip the obvious question. "How long has he been there?"

"Nine years," she replied.

"So, he was there when Emily was born?"

"Yep and he was there when Sammy was born, too. And yes, they are both his and yes, we are married." When I screwed up my face in confusion, she added, "Ever heard of conjugal visits?"

"Of course," I said.

"Sammy is the result of a very…very nice conjugal visit." A sly smile grew across her lips and I could feel heat flowering over my cheeks. "It was the last and only one, actually."

"What happened to…uh…why is he…?" I wasn't sure if there was a polite way to ask a friend the reason for her husband's incarceration but dang it, if I wasn't going to try and find it. "How did he end up in Pekin?"

She licked her lips and handed me back the mashing tool. "I met Emmett when I was fifteen and we fell madly in love. My parents didn't give two cents about me and his…well, they suffocated him. His father had Em's whole life planned out for him and I didn't fit very well in the picture; white trash just doesn't mesh well on the arm of a lawyer."

"Oh, God, Rose—that's awful," I told her. "So, he married you?"

"He knocked me up, first," she said. "Then, he married me. I told him that he poked a hole in the rubber on purpose just to piss off his parents."

"You really think he'd do that?" I asked.

She scoffed. "Hell no, but it pissed him off when I said it. Even though the baby wasn't planned, he was determined to make a life for her. After we graduated, we moved in together. A few months into it and we were struggling—and not just to pay the rent." She laughed as she stared at the counter, her mind flashing back to the early days with her husband. "This place is like heaven compared to those days. One night for dinner, we had to eat ice because that was the only edible thing we had. Emmett got fed up, stole a realistic looking squirt gun and tried to rob a bank."

I gasped. "Not to sound…ignorant or anything but he's been in prison for nine years for holding up a bank with a squirt gun?"

She sighed. "One of the employees had a heart attack during the attempted robbery. Stupid Emmett was the one who dialed 911. Just dropped the gun and picked up the phone when the man grabbed his chest and toppled to the floor."

I wasn't sure how to respond because Emmett sounded like a decent guy. However, I was sure that the bank employee had family who would disagree.

"I'm not saying that what Emmett did wasn't a bad thing but he didn't intend for anyone to get hurt. He was a desperate man who wanted to feed his family. If he had bad intentions, he would have went out and bought a real gun."

She opened her mouth to say something else but we were interrupted by the sound of a familiar singing voice. Emily danced into the kitchen, singing along with the movie. With a great deal of enthusiasm, she grabbed my hand and tugged me into the living room. I couldn't deny her a dance; after all, she was as desperate as I was for human contact.

As I watched Rose, gather her little girl in her arms, my heart ached. This family was quickly becoming part of my life. It would hurt to have to leave them but I would have to do what it took to survive. If that meant vanishing out of thin air, then that's what I would do.

A/N: I don't have a clue about prison protocol (Thank the heavens!) so I have no idea if conjugal visits even exist anymore. If they don't and you know this for a fact, just pretend for my sake...and I won't ask questions about your wealth of knowledge in regards to prisons. I'll just assume it was for some sort of report you did for college...a college NOT in prison.

Anyhoo, tell me what you think! I'm nervous about this story because of Bella's reactions and I want this story to progress realistically. I'd love to know how you think I'm doing. :-)