A/N: Hope you like! Just a reminder, this is from Bella's perspective so keep that in mind when she has doubts about herself.

Thank you Softragoo. I love you more than my Edward Cullen make-up bag.

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all the characters.

Chapter seven

A few mornings later, I woke up in the middle of a nightmare. In my mind, I'd watched James blow my father's brains out with his .22. The same gun that he'd pointed in my face on several occasions playing one of his sick little games. It was so clear that my mind hadn't been able to separate dreams from reality. My pillow was wet with tears and my skin cold with sweat. I let it take over and I sobbed into my hands.

Someone knocking on my door had pulled me from the nightmare and they were still at it. The sun hadn't come up yet. I glanced at my clock—it was only 2am. Someone was at my door. The knocking was loud and almost rhythmic. I balanced the decision in my head on whether answering it or ignoring it would be the smartest choice. What if it was Rose? What if she was in trouble?

I sat up in bed, still half asleep and no sooner pulled my legs out from underneath my sheets when I realized that the knocking wasn't coming from my front door. It was coming from the wall behind me.

A muffled, girlish moan cut between the layers of plaster and electrical wires. I couldn't help the blush and cringe that flashed over my face as I lay back down in bed and prayed for a prompt reprieve. I had no such luck. The thumping would break, but the moans and the cries of Jake's name filled the space.

Every time I closed my eyes and tried to mentally break away from it, a flashback emerged on my eyelids like a movie screen. I never thought sex was worth all the hype. When I'd first met James, before he joined the Marines, he had never been violent with me. I'd dated him for a year before I finally let him have me in that way and it had never lived up to my romance novels. It was quick and to the point. I wondered if he had some sort of aversion to touching me because the only part of him that brushed skin below the waist was his penis. After I'd moved to Oklahoma, he touched me everywhere.

When I was sure that the thumping and moaning weren't going to cease anytime soon, I grabbed my pillow and blanket and waddled into the living room. The lights were already on as I sank down in my corner. It welcomed me with open plaster and countable warmth.

As I lay there, I couldn't get the flashbacks out of my head. I'd almost died countless times as he shoved in and out of me. He enjoyed watching me struggle, watching me gasp for breath as he spilled into me. Afterwards, his mood determined how he would treat me. Sometimes, he'd lie on top of me and tell me how sweet I was and other times, he'd grab a weapon and call me a whore. I wasn't sure if he'd been faithful but I didn't truly care.

I closed my eyes as I thought about the free clinic where Rose took the kids when they got sick. There was no doubt that I'd need to be tested for STDs. It would be just like him to give me something incurable, on purpose, just because he could. Then, I'd never be free of him no matter how many miles I put between us.

The next few hours, I dozed but didn't really sleep. My back ached and my head swirled with sleepy dizziness as I drank my morning cup of instant coffee. I almost wore mismatched shoes to work but thankfully, I caught it before I walked out the door. When I finally did walk out, Edward was standing in the hallway leaning against the wall.

I blinked at him.

"You look like shit," he noted.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Bad night?" he asked, following me out the door.

"You think?" I snapped and immediately regretted it.

He must have sensed the uneasiness on my face. "I like bitchy Bella. She's fun!"

I rolled my eyes and smiled. Things had been easier around Edward since our Family Feud night. He knew I was afraid and he tried often to set me more at ease with his presence. The night before, he'd let Emily do a makeover on him to prove how nonthreatening he was. Rose called him a pansy and she received narrowed eyes covered in blue eye shadow aimed at her. I hadn't laughed harder since…I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed that hard.

"Do you want some company?" he asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope," he said, smiling. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

I didn't want to tell him about Jake because every little thing Jake did seemed to light a fuse under Edward. My neighbor had a right to screw at 2am. It wasn't his fault that he lived next to an emotionally unstable woman with a horrible sexual past.

"I had a bad dream," I mumbled.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

We walked halfway there in silence. I wished for the past five hours back so that I could curl up in my bed, close my eyes and sleep. If I could go back to 2am, I was sure that I could cover my head up with a pillow and learn to ignore the moans.

"I'll buy you a fancy coffee," Edward offered.

"You hate fancy coffee."

"But you don't," he said, grinning. "Come on, my treat."

In the coffee shop, I convinced him to try an Espresso Latte and he couldn't resist the lemon pound cake. We had a few minutes to kill so we planted ourselves at an empty table and sipped our coffee.

"Wow!" Edward exclaimed after taking a sip. "This is like the Jack Daniels of coffee."

I smiled and sipped my own. "I told ya!"

"So, what did you do with your life before coming to Chicago?" He asked the question so casually but the weight that the words held was heavy.

I refused to lie. "I was in college in Washington and graduated with a major in English Lit. I minored in Advertising."

"What did you want to do with your life?"

I shrugged. "I wasn't really sure, to be honest. When I was in college, I did well in the classes that I loved so that's what I stuck to. I figured something would come along to tickle my fancy, even if it was just working in a library or something."

"You must really love books," he said.

I nodded and sipped some coffee. "Yeah, I do."

"Do you have any family?"

My mouth was suddenly dry and my chest ached at the mention of family. "My dad lives in Forks and my mom lives in Phoenix."

"Are you close?"

I swallowed and put a hand to my chest to see if the heaviness and pain of the ache was obvious. "I'm close with my dad."

It was apparent by the way he watched me that he wanted to ask more but I didn't give him a chance. If he was going to pry then so was I.

"What about you? Did you go to college?"

He shifted in his seat and ran his fingers over his unshaven jaw. "No, but I was going to go," he admitted. "I even had a scholarship to The University of Chicago."

I raised my eyebrows. "What was your scholarship for?"

"I played baseball."

The word "baseball" temporarily turned my thoughts to my dad again. I ached to hear his voice.

"What position?"

"Short stop," he said, with a smirk. "I loved it."

I almost asked what happened but I stopped myself because there was a reason he didn't fulfill his scholarship and that reason couldn't be easy to talk about. He had secrets just like me and I knew how squeamish I was about my past. From what I assumed, he had been in prison with Emmett and it was probably the reason he hadn't been to college.

"What about family?" I asked.

He looked at me blankly. "What about them?"

"Do you have any?"

His expression twisted, and he looked pained "They're dead."

My hand found my chest again and I gasped. "What…I'm sorry."

He shook his head and sniffed out of awkwardness. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

Edward smiled but I could still see those eyes, full of fire and conviction. He may not have told me everything but no one looks like that when they are fine.

I looked at my watch and sighed, "I have to get to work."

He stood up and walked to the door, tossing his empty cup into the trash on the way there. The sun was blinding when we walked on to the sidewalk—it was always more painful when you're lacking sleep. It was going to be a long day.

"Thanks for walking me, but you didn't—"

He didn't let me finish. "I know, I know…I didn't have to." He paused in thought and looked around at the small crowds of people walking down the sidewalk. "Do we really have to do anything, Bella?"

I smirked. "I guess we don't but thank you, regardless."

As I walked down the steps to the shop, I wondered if he had walked me to work because Rose asked him to or because of his odd protective feelings. Neither reason set well with me but I couldn't argue the fact that his company had made me feel better on the walk. I had overheard Rose say that he had a car. Why didn't he just offer to drive me?

"Morning, Bella," Esme said from the Science Fiction section. At first glance, she looked exhausted and I was relieved that we would have matching blank expressions on our faces all day. Then I realized that she'd been crying and my insides plummeted.

"Morning Esme," I said, "everything okay?"

"Huh?"

"You look…you don't look…" How do you phrase a statement to your boss that she looks horrible? "You don't look like yourself."

"Oh," she said, touching her own cheek with her palm, "I've just had a rough morning is all."

A couple hours later, it was clear that Esme's tears weren't just a result of a bad morning. I'd never seen her so distracted and emotionally disjointed. Typically, she got so excited when she watched what people bought. She had this game where she would guess which section people would head to when they walked in the door. Sometimes, she'd whisper it in my ear or if it was quiet, she'd scribble it down on a piece of paper. Ninety five percent of the time, she was right—it was amazing. She was obviously very intuitive. I was right about five percent and those times it was always the dodgy old ladies heading for the Romance section.

She definitely wasn't right and it bothered me to watch her stare off into space as her mind drifted over her troubles. I wondered if that was how I looked during the day as I thought back about the nine months I'd spent with James in Oklahoma. I wasn't going to ask Esme because I figured that she would talk if she wanted to. That was until she dropped an armful of books and they scattered across the floor. Then she burst into tears.

I crouched down next to her, thankful the store was empty, and put my hand on her shoulder. Her body was vibrating with pent up emotions and her muscles tensed as I squeezed with my palm.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She cleared her throat and seemed to shake herself. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," I told her as I helped her scoop up the books. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She opened her mouth and I was hopeful that her troubles would start spilling out of her mouth but instead she looked at the door and kept silent. "No, it's fine, Bella. I'm just…I just…"

"It's okay," I soothed. "I'll get the books. Where were you going with them?"

"One of the clearance bins," she answered.

"Fifty percent or seventy five percent?" I asked.

She grinned. "Honestly, I couldn't give a rat's ass; put it in the seventy five one."

It was time for me to go home when she finally let it out. Since, she took one look at me, with my purse under my arm, and proceeded to sob, I figured she had desperately wanted to do it all day.

"It's just a bad day for me, Bella."

I put my hand on her shoulder and said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Carlisle and I had a big fight this morning before I came in," she murmured to her feet.

"What did he do?" I asked, in all seriousness.

She threw her head back and laughed. "Thanks, Bella. That was good."

I looked at her strangely. "What?"

"I just think it's funny that you assume it was Carlisle being an ass and not me," she said.

I shrugged and smiled. "Well, I can't imagine you being anything but kind and sweet."

She laughed again. "You trying to bump up your wage?"

"No, I mean it," I told her. "You're the best person I know, aside from my dad."

Her eyes glistened with tears as she gave me one of those motherly looks: Head tilted, proud smile and rapidly blinking eyes.

"I assume that when you say that, it's a compliment. You haven't talked a lot about him so I don't know for sure that being compared to your dad is so great," she teased.

I grinned against the ache in my chest. "No, trust me, it's a compliment."

"Thanks, Bella," she told me then took a deep breath. "I haven't been able to sleep since Carlisle fell a few weeks ago."

"Is he okay? Did the blood tests come back bad?"

She waved me off. "Oh, they say that he's fine. A little over a year after Sarah was killed, he uncharacteristically tumbled down our basement steps and broke his right leg. When I say 'uncharacteristically', I mean the man is as graceful as a Palomino. He does the waltz like it was something he was born to do. When he fell, I knew deep down that something was wrong." She cleared her throat and looked down at her fidgeting hands. "I was right. The x-rays showed a tumor on his right femur. It wasn't operable so they amputated his right leg."

"Oh God, Esme," I whispered. "That's horrible."

She made a sound that was meant to replace a "no shit". "The worst of it was the Chemo."

"How long did he have to go to Chemo?"

"Five months with a month break somewhere between. He had always been my rock and I thought I was losing him. One night I was tucking him into bed, hoping that his soup stayed down, when he looked up at me and smiled." Subconsciously, she picked up a book and started thumbing at the soft edged pages. "He told me that I was beautiful and that he was sorry for putting me through this."

"Wow," I said through a smile. "Sounds like you have a hell of a man, there."

She smiled through her tears. "Oh, you have no idea. Anyway, after he said that to me, I broke down. All the fears and doubts and anger that I had bottled up inside me just let loose on this poor, suffering one-legged man who only wanted to sleep. But you know what he did?"

"What?"

"He held me and kissed my forehead and whispered to me that everything was going to be alright. I was the one who should have been saying those things to him." She let a sob burst from her throat. "He took care of me when he was at his weakest moment. When he fell, I thought it was happening all over again. I thought I was losing him."

"But he's okay," I said, swiping at my own tear.

She nodded and smiled. "As he told me the other day, his graceful leg must have been his right because all his left wants to do is go in circles."

I laughed and admiration for a man I had never met face-to-face grew ten fold. I almost loved him.

"What we fought about this morning was the same fight that happens every year on this day. Three years ago today, Sarah was killed."

"Sarah was your daughter?"

She nodded. "It was so unexpected and I blamed myself for what happened. Carlisle was the one who kept me from falling apart that time, too. I thought about killing myself for God's sakes and if it weren't for him, I would have." She gave her eyes another swipe before continuing, "He showed me that I could grieve for her and not only continue to live but be happy."

"Why do you blame yourself for Sarah's death?" I asked.

She smiled softly when her eyes lifted to mine. "Do you remember when I told you that you remind me of her?" I nodded, wondering where this was going. "You're afraid of someone, Bella, you can't deny that. I saw it in your eyes the moment I met you."

My speechlessness had nothing to do with trust at this point. I would have told Esme everything but this was not about me. This was not the time to unleash all my woes on her.

"She was murdered," she finally admitted, "by her husband."

My mouth fell open and tears fell down my cheeks. Sarah and I were more alike than I realized.

"We always loved Riley and we refused to see what was so obvious. They even lived in Chicago and we didn't see it. There were so many signs that I didn't think about until she was gone: Her fear of disappointing him, the long sleeved t-shirts in the middle of the summer, the bags under her eyes. I just looked past it. What I saw was a new wife trying hard to please her new husband.

"Then one day, a police officer showed up on my door with news that Riley had killed Sarah then turned the gun on himself. She was only twenty three years old."

"I'm so sorry, Esme," I cried.

"I became obsessed with every little detail of her life with Riley and saw so many things that were warnings. I didn't understand why she didn't come to me or Carlisle. She knew that we would have protected her," she sobbed.

My heart broke for her and her unanswered questions.

"Then when you walked in the door, I knew…all I had to do was take a look at you and I knew that you had gotten away. Your sweater in the middle of June, the flinch when I reached out to you, the terrified look in your eyes; I knew you were running from someone. That's when I felt like I had a second chance."

"Oh, Esme," I said. "What happened to Sarah wasn't your fault. He was obviously psychotic and really good at hiding it because otherwise Sarah wouldn't have married him. He probably threatened you and Carlisle; she was terrified that if she went to you or the police, he'd kill you." She didn't look to feel better with my words but she needed to hear them. "She was protecting you."

She took a deep breath and blew it out with force. "I didn't mean to lose it today. Some days, I just feel like I've absolutely lost my mind."

I quirked an eyebrow and offered, "We all do, trust me."

Just then, the bell alerting us of the arrival of a customer sounded out in the store. Esme glanced at me and chuckled. She swiped frantically at her cheeks and eyes and I followed the movement with my eyes. Esme had no idea how good she was and how guilt over something that wasn't her fault would ruin her. Suddenly, I couldn't imagine my life without her.

"Look at us," she said, "we're a mess!"

I laughed. "Hopefully, it's Mrs. Glenn; she's blind as a bat."

It was true. Mrs. Glenn came to Blossom's purely for the Audiobooks, with a magnifying glass in hand to read the book summaries on the back. Most times, one of us would read them for her and she'd always go for the historical romances.

Esme laughed. "Our luck, it will be some hot college guy with an eye for emotionally stable women."

I waved my hand in dismissal. "You can have him!"

On my walk home, I kept getting choked up about Esme. Her daughter had been through what was inevitable for me, if I hadn't gotten out when I did. Living with James wouldn't have equaled a long, happy life. I'd been stupid to go to Oklahoma with him. I got on a bus with a man that I didn't even know, and put a ring on my finger that signified love for him that I didn't have. Knowing that I could have avoided a good percentage of his abuse if I had only followed my instincts in the beginning was pitiful. In a way, I'd done it to myself. Silly little Bella, running off to get married to a man she hoped to love one day. Well, silly little Bella was now running for her life because she was too nice to tell him no. Pathetic.

Esme also made me think of my dad and how he would have felt if the gun that was pointed at my head at times, had gone off. What if James had followed through on his promises to let the bullet in the chamber be the one? My dad, being a police officer, would have taken the blame for his daughter's death—just like Esme had with Sarah's.

When I got home, I tried to eat. Rose called my phone and I jumped at the sound. She asked me if I wanted to join them for dinner and I declined, making up some excuse about a miserable headache. The headache was real but the reason for not joining them was my dad. I couldn't get him out of my head.

My biggest fear was James catching up to me, finding me and then torturing me with his sadistic forms of punishment. If I happened to die in the process, I couldn't let my father think that any of it was his fault. James was too sneaky and psychotic and smart to leave evidence behind but I knew that my father was smarter. He'd eventually learn the truth and it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The first time I picked up my phone, my hands shook so violently that it dropped to the floor. I cursed to myself as I put the battery that had snapped out of the back, into the small, cheap phone. The second time, my grip nearly crushed the phone and it took me three tries to get his number in. My fingers felt huge on the tiny keys and my lungs ached for breath that I kept forgetting to give them.

I had hit *67 first, to block my number; my dad was never into new technology like caller ID but since I was missing, he'd probably gotten it as a precaution in case I called. The time between the beep of the last digit and the first ring seemed like ages. My hand twitched multiple times to hang up but I every time I was tempted, I saw the pain in Esme's eyes.

"Chief Swan, here," were his first words. I wanted to weep. Using it as a cork, I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sob. "Hello?"

I couldn't speak. How could I? What would I say? Why didn't I think of what to say before I had called? Oh, right—I did. With a deep breath in, I opened my mouth but nothing would come out.

"Hello?" He was starting to sound annoyed. Just like that day he caught me sweeping dirt under the rug instead of pouring it into the trash can.

"Bella, is that you?" Now his tone was desperate, lonely, and sad.

My cheeks itched with tears and my eyes clamped shut.

"Bella, if that's you, say something. We're worried sick about you," he said. There was such desperation in his voice, something I'd never heard before. "James will be upset that he missed your call. He's a wreck, not knowing if you're okay or not."

The longing and sadness that had forced my tears from hearing my dad's voice were put to a halt. James was there. I had to hang up.

"We understand if you got cold feet about the wedding," my dad explained. "All of us just want you back, safe and sound."

So, that was it: James had told them that I'd gotten cold feet and went all runaway bride on him. Of course, my dad believed it. He knew how frayed my nerves were about holy matrimony. A perfect explanation without getting the police involved. James was there, knowing that I'd contact my Dad.

"James thinks he knows where you are and he wants to come get you. He loves you, Bells." His voice cracked and it frightened me because I never imagined my dad cracking over anything. He was always the one with the answers, the one with the guts and no glory.

"I'm sorry, Dad," was all I could say.

He sobbed, then. It was loud and wet, like the sputter of a motor boat. "I knew it was you."

"I'm in Florida," I mumbled, closing my eyes because lying to him had never been easy. "I'm in Florida."

Then I hung up. My knees gave out and my body collapsed in on itself like folding table. I cried until my chest heaved and my lungs ached. I cried until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I cried until my throat grew sore and snot ran freely from my nose.

James was there. He was staying with my dad. It was his own little way of threatening me, even when he didn't know where I was. I felt more lost in that moment than I ever had before. There was no way I could call my dad again, knowing that there was a chance that James would answer the phone. He'd make threats to my dad's life and I'd have to protect him. How could I not?

Finally, I got up. I had reached the end of my rope. I needed to talk to someone and it needed to be soon or I'd explode. What I needed was someone to tell me that I was doing the right thing by running to the opposite side of the country from the one person I knew would protect me with his life.

After splashing water over my face, I dragged myself across the hall and tapped on Rose's door. It was after eight so the kids would be sleeping, praise the heavens. A few minutes later, she opened the door and her face dropped when she saw me.

"Christ, what happened?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes before answering, "I want to tell you why I'm here."

A/N: So...sorry to leave you hanging. I'll update on Thursday or Friday. Probably, Thursday since my little man is not in school on Fridays. Who the hell knows, I have no patience so it might be tomorrow.

I appreciate every review. If you've left an anonymous review, I can't reply but just know that I appreciate that just as much. I'd love to know if you have any theories on where this is going-some of you already do and it's awesome! How do you all feel about Bella not telling Charlie where she is?