Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyers owns Twilight. I do not. I do however own my 'gang'.

A/N: Also thanks to my awesome Beta, Blueboarderchick.

Chapter 9

Taylor's POV

How the hell did we get to this point? We were all so happy but now we were sitting in a hospital waiting room, waiting anxiously for any news on Isabella. When we arrived at the hospital with her unconscious form, they whisked her away to get a MRI. From what I overheard, they wanted to rule out bleeding or any other injury involving her brain.

I glanced over at my sister. She had Ryan's hand in a death grip. She was so afraid for Isabella. I knew Liz was thinking the same thing we all were. We should have been there. Ryan called Zach when we got to the hospital and he was on his way. I leaned back in my seat and laid my head on the wall behind me, thinking about the events of my life that had led me to this place.

My mother, Catalina was a very beautiful woman. She was a tall, curvy, bronzed skinned woman with long wavy hair and dark brown eyes. My sister and I resemble her mostly. The only thing we inherited from our father was his green eyes. It was her beauty that attracted the attention of men everywhere but none more so than Walter Reed, my father. He came to Spain with a group of friends for the Carnival celebration. They met outside the restaurant her family owned near the beach. For three weeks, they had a whirlwind romance and when it was over he asked her to go back to America with him. Her parents tried to warn her against going with him. They took one look at my father and instantly disliked what they saw. He was American, spoiled, wealthy and cocky but she loved him, so they let her go. They couldn't have stopped her even if they tried, she was an adult. I never heard the entire story and my mother refused to talk about what happened to her in America. All I learned from my uncle was that as soon as they arrived in America they were married but two years later she returned home with only one of her children and a broken heart.

For the next eight years, my mother and I lived with her family. Our house was always full of arguing, laughter and tears for every occasion. I grew up surrounded by grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. They were always so loud, boisterous and their faces so expressive. I guess that was why I never said much. In a house full of talkers, I couldn't get a word in edge wise sometimes. For the most part my mother was happy but at times she would get a sad look in her eyes and everyone would know she was thinking about my father. She made it her business to call to check up on my sister every week. On birthdays my mother sent her gifts, cards and pictures. In return my father sent her my sister's drawings, pictures and made sure Liz could call us whenever she wanted. I got to know my sister through letters and phone calls. He never sent Liz to visit us and I didn't want to go visit him. I wanted to see my sister but I had no desire to visit a place that had hurt my mother so badly.

I didn't miss having a father. I had more than enough father figures in the family to take me to bullfights, to watch fireworks with and slip me sips of wine when my mother wasn't looking. I also had plenty of mother figures to stuff me with food, to teach me how to dance and take me to music competitions and recitals. So you see I was happy. But happiness never lasts forever.

Over the years my mother would occasionally get sick. At first she would get fevers and chills that she would just brush of as the common flu. Then later she was always tired, hardly ever ate, complaining that she already felt full but she was losing weight. They finally convinced her to go the hospital after she doubled over in agony while working at the restaurant one day. The doctors told us she had aggressive stage 4 lymphoma and that the disease had already spread to her bones and nervous system. My mother already knew she was sick. She just hid it from us. It was too late. They gave her two months.

People believe that young boys idolize their fathers but that wasn't true for me. My entire world revolved around my mother. I suppose you could have said I was a mama's boy. When you're told that the most important person in your life is dying, it terrifies you. Although I didn't have that much experience with death, I knew what it meant. From then on I was with her constantly. I was terrified that the moment she was out of my sight would be the time she'd die.

I've always been able to tell when something bad was going to happen. Call it a sixth sense, if you will but I could always predict when a bad change was coming. The air would be still, everything would get quiet and I would feel a tingle in the back of my neck. I got that feeling before my grandfather had his heart attack. I got the same feeling before my Aunt Maria's restaurant burnt down and I felt it again the day my mother died.

I sat with her and held her cold hand even though some of my relatives didn't want me to see her. She didn't look like the same person and wasn't able to get out of bed anymore. She drifted in and out of consciousness. Her breathing was irregular, with long gaps in between gradually becoming slower until there was none. After it was over, I crawled into bed with her sang her favorite song.

I have little memory of the days before my mother's funeral. My mind was in a constant fog. All I could think about was things she'd never do again like smile, sing or dance with me. People tried to talk to me but I couldn't hear their voices. All I could hear was my mother's voice as she told me she loved me for the last time. I didn't want anything, except to be left alone.

I remember standing at her grave side watching as they lowered her coffin into the ground when I felt a hand hold mine. I looked over to see the identical, tear filled eyes of my sister looking back at me. I wondered how long she had been standing there next to me. There was a man standing next to her. He was tall, slim built with brown hair and the same green eyes I had. I realized that the man was my father. He looked a little different from the photos, he looked older. He and my sister were there for the funeral. I could see the grief etched in his face. It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for him. Almost.

The day after the funeral, my father and sister came to visit the house where I lived with what was left of my family. Liz and I sat outside on the steps in silence, listening to my father arguing with my family about my coming to live with him. In the end there was nothing that they could have done. My mother was dead, so he now had full custody. Later on that night my family sat me down and tearfully explained what I already knew. The next day I would be leaving them to go live in America with my sister and the man who'd hurt my mother. Not only did I lose my mother, I was also going to lose the only family I'd ever known and all because of my father. I knew he had nothing to do with my mother's death but I still disliked him. Why would he want to take me away from my family? He was nothing but selfish.

The plane and subsequent chauffeur driven ride to my new home was mostly done in silence. My father didn't try to talk to me and Liz knew I didn't want to talk. While we drove through the upscale Boston neighborhood I was amazed to see that all the houses were huge. The family house in Spain was considered big by our standards. We weren't rich but we weren't poor either.

The car pulled up in front of a large white house with four columns lining the front of the building. When we walked up the stairs through the front door, I was in awe of how high the ceiling was. Everything in the house was so clean, sterile and quiet. The house hardly looked lived in. I wondered why anyone would need a house with eight bedrooms when there were only the three of us living in the house. Not counting the maid, cook, butler and chauffeur that had their own live in quarters. Why would anyone need so many rooms that would remain used anyway? I just couldn't get past the wastefulness of it all.

My adjustment went as well as could be expected for someone whose mother just died. I barely said a word to anyone. I only spoke to Liz. The only time I saw my father was at breakfast and dinner time, if I was lucky. He worked as a senior vice president at his father's company. We hardly spoke to each other when he was around and my sister explained to me that that was normal. She was raised by nannies and maids so she was used to it. He was a workaholic. When he wasn't at his office working, he was at home in his study working. I went from having an entire family to having just my sister. At night I would cry myself to sleep, wishing I was back at home and my mother was alive. I wasn't allowed contact with my family in Spain. It was hard.

Liz was overjoyed to have me living with her. I realized why my sister always called us so much in Spain, she was lonely. We were the only Spanish kids in our neighborhood and we stood out because of our skin and eye color. She didn't feel like she fit in. This wasn't a place where different was welcomed. Everyone looked and acted the same. It was like they were clones. I was enrolled in the same school my sister went to along with all of the kids in our neighborhood. All of the parents attended the school when they were children so all of their kids went as well.

Liz stuck to me like glue at school but I didn't mind. Her constant chattering made me feel like I was back at home with my family in Spain. I met Ryan about a week after starting school. He came over to the house and I learned that my father and his parents were best friends. Ryan was a skinny, fun loving kid with a goofy smile. He was always getting the two of us into trouble. I don't know why he glommed onto me. God knows we were nothing alike and in those days I was a very withdrawn boy. He annoyed Liz a lot and the two of them gave me lots of entertainment with their constant bickering. We were the three musketeers. Really it shouldn't have been any surprise to me when they got together. I sure was surprised when at the age of sixteen; Ryan walked up to me, looked me straight in the eye and told me he was in love with my sister. I punched him in the face and stormed off. I felt bad for hitting him. She was better off with Ryan than one of those preppy morons that were always hitting on her. Half an hour later, Liz found me, punched me in the face and demanded that I be happy for her. That was the end of my objections.

I had no trouble with girls when it came to dating. Apparently my accent was something that made me sexy or something and the fact that I played a guitar and sang made me irresistible to women. Whatever, I didn't get it, I would never understand women. I had no trouble with grades and I mostly kept myself out of trouble. My father usually ignored me but that quickly changed when I began to sneak out of the house at night to hang out at Latin nightclubs. Sometimes Liz would go with me and our father would yell at me for hours on end the next day. I usually chose that time to swim laps in our pool, effectively drowning out his voice. I didn't give a damn. He took my family from me but I wouldn't let him take the closest thing I had that reminded me of where I came from.

I decided to try out for the swim team while Ryan tried out for the football team. Surprisingly I was pretty good at it and I won a lot of competitions. Even more surprising was my father actually being proud of me. His eyes would shine with pride every time I brought home another trophy or medal to add to my fast growing collection. I had to admit that a small part of me liked that he was proud me. It wasn't until I realized that he thought my being on the swim team meant I was finally becoming like the other kids. He thought I would become a clone like everyone else. When I quit the swim team he was furious with me but I didn't care. He refused to see me for who I was. The staff at the house knew me better than he did. I didn't need him. All I needed was my sister and my best friend. That was until I met her.

The moment I met Isabella Swan I felt drawn to her. It was almost like love at first sight. That crap never happen to me before. I could barely take my eyes off of her as my sister introduced us. I was completely taken in by her irresistible brown eyes, perfect mouth, long chestnut hair and creamy skin. She was so beautiful. When she blushed that adorable shade of pink, I was gone. I wanted to talk to her and learn more about her. We lay around later that night trading stories, getting to know each other. I gathered that she was a quiet and guarded person. When she talked about her past, she did it carefully. Almost as if she was deciding on what she could tell us and what she couldn't. After she fell asleep on the floor, I picked her up and put her to bed. She looked so peaceful.

When we got back to our apartment that night Ryan made fun of the way I acted around Isabella.

"Dude, you couldn't stop staring at her. You got it bad." He was wearing a ridiculous grin on his face.

I tried to save face. "No, I don't. It's not like that. She seems interesting. That's all." I tried to convince myself and Ryan.

"I've never seen you look like that before. You like her. Dude, just admit it. Just don't stare at her too much. Girls find that sort of thing creepy." I didn't think his smile could get any wider.

"Just shut up. I'm going to bed." Then I quickly made a beeline for my room. As I lay on my bed I couldn't help but think that maybe Ryan was right. I was in trouble.

The next morning we went over to their apartment to have breakfast then Ryan drove us to campus to have a look around. She looked so sad in the car that I had to know that she was okay. I recognized the look in her eyes as the same sadness my mother had whenever she was thinking about my father. The scene in the Dining Hall with Dillon would have been hilarious if not for the way he was looking at her. Isabella seemed clearly uncomfortable with the attention he gave her. It was almost as if she wasn't used to men being attracted to her. We got into a food fight at their apartment because Ryan wouldn't stop his teasing. It was the first time I'd seen her laugh. Even covered in olives and lettuce Isabella, still looked beautiful.

I knew I made her nervous when I looked at her but I couldn't figure out why. My sister grew close to her and I knew the reason. Whatever I was to Ryan, that's what Isabella was to Liz. I'll admit I was a little jealous when she introduced us to Zach. I thought she had feelings for him because of the way she would look at him and play with bracelet on her wrist. But I came to realize she only thought of him as a brother just like she did with Ryan.

I wasn't sure what she thought of me but I knew she wasn't over her ex boyfriend. I came to that conclusion last Christmas after we bumped into each other under the mistletoe. As she looked up at me with surprise, I placed my hands on her arms then leaned down to kiss her. I felt her stiffen slightly and I knew she wasn't ready. So I changed course and kissed her on the cheek instead. As my lips touched her cheek, I felt her eyelashes flutter and heard her breath catch. When I pulled away she looked flushed with a dazed expression in her eyes. Behind her I saw Ryan, with a ridiculous grin on his face, giving me the thumbs up. I wouldn't push her. If she wanted to be friends then that's what we would be.

We were all in my apartment waiting for Izzy to arrive so we could watch a movie when I had another one of my feelings. I had to call her to make sure she was okay. When she got cut off I instantly knew that something had happened. Something was wrong. I shot up from the couch surprising the hell out of Liz and Ryan and went flying through the front door and down the hall. I heard Ryan and Liz behind me.

Ryan caught up to me. "What's going on, man?"

"I was talking to Izzy but we got cut off. She's in the basement. Something's wrong." Damn it! Why did we get an apartment on the other end of the building? We tried the elevator but it was taking forever so we decided to take the stairs instead.

As we raced down the stairs I prayed that she was okay. I prayed that I was just overreacting and she would laugh at my drama queen behavior when I got there. I prayed. We got to the bottom of the stairs when I heard an almost inhuman scream. I yanked open the basement door and ran into the parking lot. I didn't see her at first thanks to the flickering lights of the basement then I saw a figure in the distance. It was Isabella. Her shoulders were hunched over as she staggered slowly in our direction.

Liz screamed, "Oh my God! Izzy, what happened? Are you okay?"

Ryan shouted. "What the fuck?" He was frozen where he stood.

I couldn't speak. The words were stuck in my throat. As we moved closer to her I realized she was covered in blood, her blouse was ripped open exposing her chest and bra. Her jeans were unzipped and one of her shoes was missing. She was a mess. I caught her as she fell. Her dazed eyes rolled around then focused on me. My heart broke for her.

"Isabella, I'm here. You're safe." I don't know if she heard me. She looked as if she wanted to say something when her eyes lost focus and fluttered closed. I experienced hysteria for a second before I realized she was still breathing. I sighed with relief. She wasn't dead, she was just unconscious.

I cradled her in my arms while Ryan called 911. I heard Ryan and Liz talking about the man that lay unconscious a few feet away but I couldn't really pay attention to what they were saying. I was too busy checking Isabella over for any injuries. When I only found a cut on her forehead, I determined that most of the blood wasn't hers.

I forced myself back to reality and looked up when I heard a scuffle. Ryan had his arms wrapped around a snarling Liz trying to restrain her. "Liz, if you don't stop kicking the guy you're gonna kill him."

"He did this to her! Let me kill the bastard!" She screamed and delivered another kick to the man's ribs before Ryan was able to drag her away.

I heard the sirens in the distance and moments later the ambulance and police arrived. The commotion of the sirens brought out a few of building's tenants and a crowd gathered in the basement. I didn't want to let her go even as the paramedics approached.

One of them eyed the death grip I had on Isabella. Her voice was sympathetic yet firm, "Sir, you have to let her go. We have to see if she needs to be stabilized and get her to the hospital."

I released my grip and stepped away as they examined her. I felt like I was walking under water. My movements were felt slow and I wasn't able to process the voices around me. I glanced at the man responsible for this. He was being treated by paramedics as well and was still unconscious. I hoped he was dead. My attention snapped back to Isabella as I heard the paramedics uttering words like 'intracranial pressure', 'brain bleeding' and 'scan'. God, none of those things sounded good.

I rode in the ambulance with Isabella and held her hand while Liz and Ryan followed us in his car. We arrived at the hospital, before she was wheeled away on a gurney I leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Please don't die."

The police came to get collect our statements on what happened. We didn't have that much information to give as we got there when it was over. As I ran my hands through my hair for the thirtieth time, Zach came running down the hallway.

"What the hell happened to Izzy?" He gasped for breath.

Ryan mumbled, "Some guy attacked her in the basement but don't worry she messed him up good. We got there after it was over though." He looked a little guilty.

Whatever Zach was about to say was interrupted by the doctor that took Izzy away. "Hello, I'm Dr. Stevens. You came in with Isabella Swan?" A middle aged doctor approached us with a clip board in his hand.

I stood up. "Yes, we did. Is she okay?"

Dr. Stevens smiled. "Isabella will be fine. She just has a mild concussion and some bruises and swelling on her face. She also sustained a sprained wrist but if she takes it easy, it should heal just fine. You can take her home tonight. She just needs lots of rest and medication to manage her pain."

"Can we see her now?" I asked.

He glanced at his wrist watch. "She's been awake for a while but the police needed to get her statement. I think they should be finished with her by now. So you can go in." And with that he left.

As we got to her door, we saw two uniformed policemen leaving her room. I swallowed thickly as we entered her room. She struggled to sit upright gave us a small smile. She looked pale, fragile and banged up but she was okay. The side of her cheek was swollen, the cut on her forehead had been stitched and she wore a bandage on her wrist. I'd never experienced the kind of fear I felt tonight since the day I found out my mother was dying. If I had any doubt about it earlier, I was certain now. I had feelings for Isabella Swan and I was in trouble. Big time.

A/N: Okay so I have a few truths for you guys. This is not one of those stories where things happen overnight. I like to build and have things to progress at human speed.So this story will be a long or longish one. Most of the chapters will be in Bella's POV as this is her story but I will switch to other POVs when necessary.

Links to the pics of Zach and Dillon are up in my profile.

Thank you guys so much for the reviews, favs and alerts. You guys rock!

You know what to do if you want your chapter before next Friday.