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Warnings: Violence, angst, drama and some slashy bits (but nothing explicit).

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Chapter 2: Betrayal

"Get up."

The sudden demand startled Edward. Still paralyzed with anxiety, he disobeyed his father's command.

"Get up. I will not ask you again Edward!"

He spat out his name as if it were a disease. Fearing that his father might kick him in the stomach, he extended his arms, leaning on them heavily, as he erected his upper body. His gaze he kept averted, looking down at the carpet. Additional wet spots had formed, amalgamating into one in close proximity of the stain of blood.

"Dad, mom…" he began weakly, still slumped on the floor. His father brutally interrupted him.

"Shut your mouth. You have no right to call us your parents."

Whatever mental processes had kept running during the beating had been ruthlessly shattered by that icy rebuttal. The hatred in his father's voice had been hard to miss. His mother's sobbing had suddenly stopped at that point. The abrupt halt of noise had caught Edward's attention and he lifted his gaze, to find his mother looking up from her paper tissue. She was eyeing her husband with a perplexed gaze of shock. But she did nothing.

Emmett was still staring incessantly at the carpet, nervously clenching his fists. His head had drooped even more, so that Edward was staring at the top of his head. His hair was impeccable. Styling gel held it to together in a neat kind of crest.

Edward's hair had been impeccable that morning too. Now it wasn't; it got all messed up when his father had harshly pushed him down into the dust.

Behind Emmett Edward saw Jasper. His brother, too, had jerked around and, his arms still loosely crossed, gazed at his father, stunned by the words he had heard just now. But he too, like his mother, did nothing.

And then he realized it. There they were: his family, minus Alice. They had abandoned him without leaving. No, what they had done was far worse: they had betrayed him. They had shown that unconditional love was not necessarily unconditional. All those years that they had lived in happiness – that his mother had called him "her love", "her sweetness", "her little treasure" – were shattered and were revealed to be the lie they had actually been. It smashed Edward's heart to smithereens, akin a vase crumbling to pieces after tumbling down onto the floor. Broken, feeling exhausted by a sudden pang of utter anguish, he looked up at his father, his mouth half open and tears now streaming down his cheeks. That sight didn't calm his father at all. Instead he kicked Edward in the stomach in a fit of rage.

"Damnit you disobedient rat! Get up as I told you to!" his father suddenly cried as his foot hit Edward just under his diaphragm, slinging Edward backward, coughing and gulping for air, landing with his head against the rim of the coffee table – of Danish design and very expensive. It now featured a spec of blood.

Edward slowly reached with a hand to the throbbing sensation coming from his head, lightly touching it before removing it again to be greeted by the gruelling sight of thick, dark-red blood – his thick, dark-red blood, as he quickly realized.

The rest of the family sat motionless and eyeballed what happened before them, stunned by how their father and husband had kicked Edward hard enough so that he would injure his head against the furniture. Upon seeing the bloodied hand, Edward's eyes widened in horror; he fainted. Darkness enveloped him as his head collapsed down onto the floor.

The sun was setting on this warm, summer evening as Edward arrived at Gaya. He had told his family he had gone out to the cinema with some new friends of his; that way they wouldn't be able to call said friends if they started worrying about him coming home late. And he certainly hoped that would happen!

He walked up the steps to the bar's door, looking around suspiciously to make sure nobody he knew saw him. When he was sure that he was all alone, he pressed against the door and stepped inside. He was greeted by a smell of beer and it was very warm, even though it wasn't that crowded yet.

As he walked to the coat rack he took off his light summer coat, a gift from his parents for his graduation. Afterwards, he walked to the bar, noticing how the bartender was sizing him up when he brought him his beer. He paid and turned around, not really knowing what to do.

How does this work anyway? Should he just say hi to some people, or should he stand around, waiting for people to come up to him? He decided that for now he'd just pretend that he was busy texting somebody, taking a sip from his beer in the meantime, leaning against the bar while doing so. Of course that brought him nothing, and ten minutes later he dully looked at the clock. Seconds had turned into minutes. He had to change his game plan.

And right then, his heart started pounding in his chest. The door had opened, and in marched a few of the natives from the local reservation, all of them either in tank top or black V-necked T-shirt, several types of short, denim pants and running shoes. The cute bicycle boy walked proudly in front, as if to say

"Tonight's fuck just arrived!"

The other guys looked vaguely similar, all with the dark skin and black hair, though none of them was as appetizing as bicycle boy. Edward kept watching them intently, slowly sipping his beer the way a police officer eyes a suspicious character as he sips his take-away coffee from the safety of his police car. Currently they were just looking around, discussing who was going to buy the beer.

When suddenly bicycle boy gazed in his direction while one of the others seemingly pointed at him, Edward quickly ducked back into his fake text, nervously punching random buttons in order to ward off suspicion.

A few moments passed.

Then warmth had appeared beside him. Shyly he looked to his left… First he saw the Nike training shoes. Then he saw the muscular calves, and the short denim pants, with jagged edges. He continued to raise his gaze as his eyes met the smooth fabric of the tank top. His heart now racing, pounding in his throat like a drum, he saw the muscular forearms and upper arms, biceps and triceps flexing and relaxing as the hotness counted cash and handed it over, then took the beers. The neck featured a conspicuous Adams Apple – that sign of delicious manhood – which was framed by two very conspicuous muscles – the sternocleidomastoid muscles. God how Edward loved those muscles! They were eternally expressive, and to see them flex as the head moved made his mouth water.

Finally, the face came into view… and it wasn't him. It was one of the others. Feeling disappointed and utterly deflated, he returned his gaze to his mobile phone.

"Hey Jake!"

"What?!"

"Here's your beer, get it while it's cold! And you owe me two dollars."

Sounds of kissing to his left vaguely disturbed Edward's fake texting routine, and as he glanced back to where the unknown native stood, he saw how bicycle boy had appeared and had firmly attached himself to the guy that had bought the beers. It looked glorious, but a pang of jealousy made him growl under his breath.

After what seemed like eternity, bicycle boy, who was apparently called "Jake", let loose, a mischievous grin on his face.

"How about that, do I still owe you a debt?"

"Yeah you do, but thanks for that" was the reply, as both of them walked over to a table where the other natives had gotten seated. Edward kept following them, still leaned against the bar, but mobile stowed away in his pocket and arms folded.

A sudden confusion suddenly broke out amongst the two natives before they had managed to reach the table. Edward tried to listen in but the music made it somewhat impossible. Their movements were more meaningful, as they were staring at the floor and looking in pockets.

They must have lost something.

He glanced to his left and saw what it could have been: on the bar lay a leather wallet. It was nothing much; it looked old, coins having left indentations on the exterior. He picked it up and turned it around. Not just coins had left their mark; a seemingly hollow ring announced the presence of a condom.

The wallet in his hand, he looked back to where the natives had been searching. They were still there, with the beer-buying guy now on all fours to scan the bar's floor. Jake on the other hand had moved in Edward's direction. Suddenly he turned around to his friends, shouting something at them that he couldn't make out, but which ended up in him coming straight at Edward. Nervously, Edward hid the wallet right behind him, quickly jerking back into position as the beautiful native appeared by his side.

He signalled for the bartender, who made clear that he'd be coming in a minute. The bar's lights shown beautifully on Jake's dark hair, making it glisten. As he swivelled his head and shifted his gaze from one end of the bar to the other, he could see the muscles in his neck flex and relax. Edward felt like biting, but managed to refrain from doing so. Instead he leaned over to him.

"H-hey!", he stammered.

Great, I sound like some stammering fool.

Still, stammering or not, he had attracted the native's attention. This eyed him candidly as he shifted his balance from one leg to another, the right corner of his mouth curled into a vague smile and eyes opened wide and welcoming. His gaze travelled to Edward's shoes and up again in a matter of a second, but it was still utterly noticeable. Clearly Edward was being checked out. Jake's smile broadened as the left corner of his mouth now also curled.

"Hey man, you knew here?"

"Yeah, sort of."

That wasn't really true, but who cares. Edward had come to this place once before about three weeks ago, not including the night with his two siblings. It had been a Thursday, and the place had been rather quiet, to his annoyance.

The music changed from a loud pop-song to something calmer. Meanwhile Jake had shifted his gaze back to the bartender as he waited for him to come and help him. Fearing he had lost his attention, Edward broke the silence between them.

"You're Jake, right? I heard one of your mates call you. You uh… repaid him handsomely. Are really all of you natives gay, or what?" he said, cocking his chin in the direction of Jake's mates, who were talking amicably at one of the tables.

Jake chuckled briefly, exposing his perfectly white teeth as his head slanted backwards; the muscles in his neck flexed under the load, making them even more conspicuous. Edward's hands became sweaty trying to stay cool.

Still chuckling, Jake glanced back at Edward, the teeth still exposed. His smile was warm and welcoming; it made his face shine with cute boyishness. Definitely worth biting.

"Yeah, they call me Jake. My full name is Jacob though. And no, we're not all gay, mostly just me."

He smirked as he curiously eyed Edward, again shooting a gaze down to Edward's groin and back up to his face, his hair, his chest and arms, and back to his face. Edward stared into Jacob's eyes intently as he felt Jacob's penetrating look all over him.

"What's your name then?" he finally asked, cocking his chin at Edward as he spoke the words.

"Edward, pleased to meet you", Edward responded. "Are you from that local reservation?"

"Yeah, I am, ever been there?"

Here Edward felt conflicted. It was quite normal for the inhabitants of Forks to wander off into the reservation now and then for some R&R, but he had never done so because his parents had forbidden him to.

"No", he answered, ducking Jacob's radiant look but keeping watch of the expression on his face from the corner of his eye. Jacob was obviously taken aback a bit, as his smile faded away ever so slightly.

"Oh? Why not, it's a nice place! You should come along next time when we go cliff jumping. You do like cliff jumping, right?" The smile had returned in all of its warmth.

Edward was dumbstruck. Had this robust native just asked him out?

"You sure?" he asked, as if Jacob had made some kind of mistake. Confusion could have been read all over Edward's face. Truth be told, the idea of jumping from a cliff terrified Edward, but if it would get him close to Jacob, he might have to try it…

Jacob chuckled again, exposing those white teeth in all their shiny brilliance. Edward felt how he was already falling hard for him, both emotionally and physically. The urge to bite his neck grew, as did some body parts.

"Yeah I'm sure, it'll be fun!"

The bartender finally appeared, so that Jacob's attention was pulled away from Edward. The latter stared at the muscles of Jacob's neck flexing as the head smoothly turned so that his eyes met the bartender's gaze. The rest of his body soon followed the swivelling of his head as he repositioned his muscular arms to lean on them heavily as he directed his attention to the bartender. Edward vaguely saw Jacob's mouth move and he heard his voice as if it came from a faraway land, lost in the splendor of the broad shoulders he saw before him.

Had any of the bartenders found a wallet?

Jacob's question woke Edward up from his silent ruminations over Jacob's beauty as he remembered the wallet he had hidden behind his back. Quickly he took it out of its hiding place and prodded Jacob before the bartender could give an answer. Jacob looked at him with surprise, his mouth half open, but not in a smile; it looked more like vague confusion, as if his thoughts were still with the bartender. As soon as Edward magically held the wallet in front of his face, though, the light returned and the half-open mouth morphed into a surprised but pleasant smile.

"Where'd you get that?"

Edward smirked.

"Was just lying around on the bar… Is it yours?" he added innocently, knowing full well that it wasn't.

"No it isn't, it's my friend Embry's. He went to buy some beers and then lost it. Glad you found it though, thanks!" Jacob took the wallet from Edward's hand and started in the direction of his mates when he slowed his steps, lingered a bit before turning around and looking Edward straight in the eyes. He had a playful smirk on his face.

"It was nice meeting you, Ed… Don't mind if I call you Ed, right?

Edward could only grin and chuckle boyishly, while slowly shaking his head in delight of the liking the young native had seemingly taken to him. The response was another one of those pleasant teeth-exposing grins.

"You uh… come here often?" Jacob asked sheepishly.

"Yeah, I plan to, for sure…"

Jacob's smirk broadened a bit and his eyes twinkled with a boyish enthusiasm. He briefly looked down at his feet and then back at Edward as he momentarily scratched the back of his head, once again piercing his gaze with those beautiful, brown eyes.

"Well then. I come here pretty much every Friday. We uh… should stay in touch."

Jacob nodded briefly and winked, then turned around and walked off to his mates. Edward kept staring at him, watching how his cute ass and his broad shoulders wiggled to and fro in movements whose directions exactly countered each other as he walked away.

Edward had kept watching, leaning against the bar and sipping the last of his beer, as Jacob had sat down and had handed Embry his lost wallet, smiling. At Embry's visibly puzzled enthusiasm, he had pointed at Edward, and Embry had mouthed "thank you". And as their conversation had continued, Jacob had looked at Edward one last time, smiling broadly. He had cocked his chin at him, then licked his lips, winked one last time, and still smiling, had re-joined the conversation of his mates. It had been beautiful. His heart pounding strongly in his chest, he had felt invigorated. Whatever was to come in the future, Edward was looking forward to it!

"Edward. Edward! Damn it, fucking kid."

Edward lay motionless on the floor, his unresponsive body an ode to his father's careless rage. His head throbbed and his knees were hurting. Awoken by his name being called and a stinging pain that permeated his entire body, he opened his eyes. His blurred vision brought him back to reality: two blood-shot eyes about one meter away from his face. He remembered the kick, the injury to his head. The two eyes, set in the pale face that was his father's, instantly removed themselves from him.

I must have fainted.

Afraid for what might happen if he disobeyed his father any longer, he mustered all his strength, and erected himself. The dizziness and nausea he felt quickly pushed him back onto the ground as he stumbled and fell over. But he tried again. His fear to be beaten was stronger than the confusion and fatigue that dragged him back to the floor; it had to be. Slowly but steadily he got up and had a quick glance around, gaze ducked, shoulders tense in tight anticipation of the blow that he knew would come but hoped to prevent.