Chapter 20: Open

Three days later, I'm in the car next to him. Driving the route I have walked so many times.

We don't talk, I have no idea what to say. In about an hour, all my secrets will be out, the ones I've been protecting with my life for forever. The ones that will make him look at me with pity instead of adoration. Or maybe even disgust.

Because surely, a girl can't be raped for years and years without doing anything about it? There's that voice again, in the back of my mind, repeating the stuff dad and Edward told me over and over.

"You secretly enjoy it, don't you?"

So many years I've asked myself that same question. Did I enjoy it?

No, of course not, not physically.

But when it started, when I didn't know it was wrong, did I like the special attention dad gave me?

Sure I did.

Did I like that I was allowed to sleep in his bed whenever mommy was out late?

Yes. The shameful truth is yes, I liked it.

I was only six. I liked having our little secret even if I thought the little games were weird. I wanted to be his special girl and I even liked that he said I could take care of him much better than mommy did. I adored my father and sometimes I wished he would have married me instead of mommy.

Mommy never liked me much. I realize now that she was just as jealous as I was, because the world could see I was his little princess.

It was only years later that I started to connect some dots and that this voice inside me said it was wrong.

Not because people explained to me about sex and told me it was just for adults. But because the new games he wanted to play really hurt me.

He told me it was a game for extra special girls, so I played along, but I often wondered why it had to hurt so much. Only then did I try to tell him I didn't actually want to play those games anymore and only then did his "special attention" slowly turn into rape.

He would apologize at first, tell me I was just too pretty for my own good and he simply loved me too much. But by the time I was twelve, I didn't believe him anymore and he just took whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, without any of that special attention I craved so much.

I wipe away angry tears when Jacob parks the car and he is smart enough not to ask about my thoughts. Instead, he takes my hand and squeezes it.

"I love you, no matter what," he says and I believe him. I trust that he will.

He'll pity me, and he'll wonder what a disgusting child I must have been, to like that game for years, but he'll love me still. Jacob always has.

Feeling stronger because of his kind gaze, I step out of the car and walk into that familiar office, head up high.

"Good afternoon, Bella, Jacob," my therapist greets us with a handshake, "I've heard so much about you."

I cringe a little. I don't want Jacob to know I gush over him in this office all the time.

"Likewise, sir," Jacob replies with a friendly smile.

"You can call me, Tom. Have a seat, both of you."

Jacob seems comfortable enough and takes the love-seat, pulling me next to him. I understand that he doesn't want any distance between us this moment. I look up at Tom and he nods.

"Do you know why we're here?" Tom starts immediately, directing his question at Jacob. He's not one to waste time and beat the bushes.

"I believe you like to help her share things she can't really talk about?"

Again Tom nods, "would you like to tell me what you know already?"

"Well," Jacob starts and looks at me. I nod at him, go ahead, feel free to share anything.

"I know she was raped at some point, but she won't tell me who did it."

"Do you have any suspicion?"

"No," Jacob answers, "we've been away from each for a long time after high school."

"And what about her past?" Tom asks, "what do you know about her home situation?"

Jacob seems a little uncomfortable, talking about me as I'm not right next to him, but he hesitantly continues.

"Not much. She never talked about it. As a kid, she used to tell me that her father and brother were overly protective, but there were bruises all the time... I think they might have been violent with her, both of them."

"You are right on both assumptions," Tom confirms, while lacing his fingers together on his lap and leaning back. "But they are not two separate situations."

"How do you mean? Are you saying she was raped as a kid?"

Tom doesn't answer and looks at me.

"It's important to say the words, Bella, not let him assume things any longer. Shall you tell him or shall I?"

"Go ahead," I mutter, looking down, studying the rug on the floor.

"Yes, Jacob, Bella was raped as a kid. And her father and brother were violent with her. Not only did they beat her, but they were the ones to sexually abuse her. Repeatedly."

Jacob gasps and turns rigid next to me. Before he gets a chance to respond, Tom continues to overwhelm him with new information.

"Her father started abusing her when she was about five years old. By the time she moved to the house next to yours, she was already taught to keep her mouth shut about what was going on. You couldn't have seen it. She learned to be a master at hiding things and lying. Not because she didn't trust you, but because he made her believe it was a secret and very bad things would happen if she talked about it with anybody."

I see now what Tom is doing. Not only is he trying to tell Jacob the story from my point of view, but he's already figured out Jacob's point of view as well. The huge question "why didn't I tell him?" I didn't even think of that. Of how Jacob would be crushed with guilt if he found out.

I'm glad now that I let Tom bring him the news, he can be neutral and anticipate the hurt Jacob may feel.

"The bruises she got from fighting back, which was never successful, so eventually her spirit broke and she gave up the fight. Instead of fighting, which could have gotten her killed at some point, she chose a new and better strategy. She ran to your place. Your safe house. Maybe she could have told your mother about it, but your house was only safe simply because nobody knew. Nobody saw her the way she saw herself, a dirty child."

"We lived right next door," Jacob gasps, probably wondering why he never saw on his own, why his mother didn't see.

A sob escapes his chest, like a hiccup, and I take his hand in mine. He squeezes it so hard it hurts, but I let him.

"How… how about her mother?"

"Her mother isn't a very strong woman. She was so much in love with her father she wouldn't see his flaws. In her jealousy for the young Bella, she didn't notice the distress either. Maybe she knew, but in my opinion, some people are very good at believing what they want to believe."

"I did too. I never noticed, I couldn't imagine, even now…"

"It's not your fault, Jacob. You did see something was wrong, but you didn't push her. If you had kept pressuring her to talk, she might have stayed away and lose her only safe place. You need to understand that you were a young child as well. You didn't rescue her from that house, but in many ways you saved her life."

At this I start to cry against Jacob's shoulder and I whisper, "you really did Jacob, you saved me, you still save me every day."

Suddenly Jacob is aware of my distress and wraps his arms around me, holding me so tight.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, I should have… I don't know. I never knew. How…"

"You weren't supposed to know," Tom repeats in his patient voice. "Ever since she was able to talk, she was taught to keep this inside. The people she loved most convinced her to never speak about this. That's a taboo that runs as deep as a person can go. Please don't blame her for not telling you and don't blame yourself for not seeing. If you had, you would have lost her."

"I still… shit," Jacob curses and releases me to get up and pace the room.

I didn't expect him to be this shaken up about it. I guess I have been selfish, only thinking about my own part in this story and wondering how he would see me afterwards. I never stopped to think how he would see himself: the ignorant friend who got too caught up in soccer and dropped his best friend when she turned into a freak.

Jacob mutters under his breath, "that fucking son of a … I swear… five years old, that's like… a toddler. Oh my fucking god! Twelve years of abuse… jeezes!"

I look at Tom for support but he just gives me a small reassuring smile and shakes his head. As if to say just let him be for a while. He told me once that I can get mad if I like, nothing in his office is breakable, not even the vases or the glass table or wooden chairs. I tried to throw one of his vases, just to see what would happen, but it simply bounced back up. Jacob won't do that of course. He'll hold it all inside and get on his treadmill later to run for hours.

"What about Edward," Jacob suddenly asks, "you said it was the both of them?"

"When their father got violent, Edward was abused just as well. But his strategy to survive was a little different. He didn't run to a safe place but decided to join the enemy," Tom explains, "he participated in the abuse the last three years."

"Bullshit," Jacob shouts, "that guy is three years older than her and he was at that age just as tall as his father. No way he did this to his little sister just so daddy wouldn't get to him. He could have fought him easily. That coward…"

"Jacob," Tom answers in his patient voice again, and I already know what he'll say. Because I've made those same accusations at some point. "We don't know how deep Edward's scars run and what amount of mental brain wash he's been through as a kid. We are in no position to call someone a coward without hearing their story."

"Even if he was abused as well," Jacob continues, calmer now, "that doesn't excuse his behavior. Someone needs to stop the cycle."

"Yes, I'm not here to excuse anybody's behavior. I'm here to help Bella, who is in fact stopping the cycle by accepting help. Something she is only able to do at an adult age, after receiving the unconditional support from her best friend. Not everybody has the same access to change."

That's what Tom does, always trying to make us see a new perspective. Without letting me know I'm wrong, he still opens my eyes to new ways of seeing things. He says even if I'll never truly forgive my family for what they did, which would be completely understandable, it might help me a great deal to at least understand how their behavior was created and how I wasn't wrong for loving them, as a kid.

The famous grey area. In which people get damaged and make terrible mistakes by damaging others in return, just because they don't know any other way to survive.

I still can't really see Edward as a victim here, but I do realize that Tom is right to some extent. There's more to this story than just two evil people who were born with the sole purpose to harm me.

"So what do I do now?" Jacob asks.

"What do you mean?"

"How do I help?"

Tom shakes his head, "you're already helping the best way you can. You have been understanding, even if she didn't give you anything to understand. You have been caring and compassionate, without getting something in return. These are all things Bella isn't used to. Just be yourself."

"I want to do more," he murmurs, while sitting down next to me again. My hand disappears into his large one.

"You can only help when she's willing to accept it. If she's willing to talk, you can listen. If she likes you to come to our sessions, you are welcome, although I understand you need to work? But you don't really need my advice. Even without knowing everything, you do know how to handle her better than anyone, so I'm the one who should ask you how to act."

At this Jacob smiles shyly, and I can't say I ever adored him more.

When we leave the office, Tom calls me back for a second.

Jacob nods and says, "I'll wait in the car."

"I won't keep you too long," Tom starts, "because he shouldn't be alone now. I know you are afraid he'll think of you differently now, love you less, but I can promise you that won't happen. This man is for real. The only danger I see is you pushing him away, now he knows the truth. You make sure that this doesn't happen. This is your only task this week, let him in."

I understand. I don't think I would push him away right now, but this is my strategy indeed and I might feel the urge in time. So I nod.

Tom continues, "Jacob needs time to process this, but if you shut him out, you might lose him. Because right now, he needs you more than ever. There's no way out, you're in this, one hundred percent, no backing out now."

Again I nod and he sends me off to Jacob, who is waiting in the car, staring at some place in the distance.

All the ride home, Jacob doesn't talk, but he also doesn't show any signs of disgust or rage. He is simply paying attention to the busy traffic. I believe he is holding off the new information until we get home.

Once we are within the safety of our apartment, he gets down on the couch and continues to stare.

I help him out of his coat and suggest we order take out, since neither of us will want to cook tonight.

Already I feel like hiding away from him, but I remember what Tom told me. I can't lose Jacob now, because I need him more than ever too.

So after placing our order, I sit down next to him and take his cold hand in mine.

"Please talk to me?" I ask.

"Shit, Bella," he breathes, "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Do you have more questions?"

"Yeah, like a million."

"Maybe start with those?" I suggest.

"Can you… Are you willing to talk about it?"

"I'll try. I know you must be shocked now, so if you just want some time, that's fine too."

"No," he shakes his head firmly, as if he's afraid I might leave.

"I'll stay right here," I assure him, "and you can ask whatever you need to know and I'll figure out a way to answer."

His first questions are more practical than emotional, he wants to know who else knows and if I want to press charges. Which I don't.

We eat our junk food in silence and then decide to go to bed early, because we prefer talking in the dim bedroom light, snuggled up close together.

When I get under the covers next to him, he seems hesitant to wrap his arms around me, as if I'm more fragile now than I was a day ago.

It's as if he is suddenly hit with a new wave of truth, because he crushes me into a hard hug and starts sobbing against my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, I never knew, some friend I am," he sobs.

I place both my hands on his cheeks and push him away from my shoulder to look him in the eyes.

"Please don't ever say that again, don't ever apologize for this. Tom was right about everything. You save me every day. You can cry about what happened to little Bella, and I'll cry with you, but don't you feel guilty."

He nods and that's what we do. We both cry while clinging to each other for dear life.

The next morning, Jacob calls in sick and like I expected him to do, he gets on his treadmill and runs for hours. I make sure to stay near him, while preparing a lunch for us.

After eating together in silence, I invite him on the couch and let him read all the letters I've written ever since I started therapy. Letters to young Bella, to my mother and even some to dad and Edward. He sees my point of view, the way I'm experiencing my anger at this moment, and some of my memories as well.

Again, he gets very upset, but I feel closer than ever to have him with me, inside my bubble of secrets. I never thought I'd feel such a weight lift off me, just by sharing all that is me. It's like I can finally drop my mask, a mask I never knew I had around him.

By the end of the day, we both need an aspirin from crying so much, and we take another early night.

I notice that he was very careful with his touch today, and apart from some chaste kisses, he hasn't kissed me once since finding out. I guess it will take some getting used to on his part. To make out with a body that has been used and abused, that has been touched by harmful fingers.

When we get under the covers again, I need him to know that his touch was never the same. I explain to him that my panic attacks are never because his touch reminds me. It doesn't. It's just a subconscious reflex, and he understands.

Gently, I take his hand and place it underneath my shirt on my heart.

He can feel my breast, but it's not an erotic moment, just intimate.

"My Bella," he whispers adoringly into my hair.

I can't even imagine right now that I was scared he would be disgusted.

I murmur the only thing I can think of right now.

"I love you, Jacob."

AN: This was an intense chapter to write. Please share your thoughts?