A/N: Thank you all for waiting! Finally, here's chapter 7.

I'm horrible. I've been promising stuff about Embry for two chapters now, and every time I keep delaying it because there is other stuff that needs to be done first… So chapter 7 is a bit shorter than other chapters, but chapter 8 is pretty much written so there should be no big delay between chapters 7 and 8. And yes: chapter 8 will feature Embry. Hope you enjoy chapter 7, and as always, feel free to leavecrazy amounts of reviews!

As always, a thank you to Linea and dantemalfoy for providing comments!

Warnings: Drama, angst, mild erotica.

Chapter 7: Back to the living

A few days had gone by since Brad had found Edward in the forest, freezing to an untimely death. The better part of those days Edward had spent in bed, sleeping or eating. He got out of bed a few times, mainly to go to the toilet, brush his teeth, or do some other menial personal care tasks. Angela kept bringing him food; small meals at first, but later she had started serving him hot food too. She fed him chicken with mashed potatoes and beans, or pork stew with rice, or variations on those dishes. Suffice to say, there wasn't a whole lot going on in the "creativity" department.

Edward had found it difficult to eat in the beginning, leaving half his plate for the garbage bin. However, as time progressed, a shallow appetite returned. This was probably in part due to the support of Brad and Angela, who lovingly cared for him throughout these days. Besides bringing him food, they talked to him, and slowly managed to pull his story out of him. Among other things, they found out who he really was: Edward Cullen.

The name brought a glimmer of recognition to their faces as they remembered the feud between Carlisle Cullen and the Quileute tribe. While they were quick to admit that they had only followed it from a distance, they were more than aware of the sour relations between the tribe and the family, and they had understood from those more intimate with the situation that Carlisle Cullen was the one to blame for how events had unfolded. Suffice to say that his religious zealotry and adamant nature did not make him into a particularly loved community icon. As such they had an easy time empathizing with Edward, whose story had merely added new points to their list of Carlisle Cullen sins. The rest of the Cullen family did not score any better of course: their refusal to help Edward as Carlisle unleashed his anger onto the boy seemed no less of an insult than what havoc Carlisle himself had wreaked upon his son. They concluded that the family was an accomplice to Carlisle's betrayal, and they could see how Edward had come to the conclusion that he didn't have parents or family.

How he concluded that he didn't have any friends, though, was something they had a hard time understanding. Their conversation on the first day, during which Edward had admitted that perhaps there was somebody that could help him, had given them hope, but Edward was adamant in keeping this person's identity a secret. Every time the couple started about this mysterious person, he at first rebutted their questions quickly by negating that he had ever existed. Later he admitted the person's existence, but he was quick to add that it was no use chasing after him: he hardly knew the person anyway.

So the first days went by. To Edward it was all in a tedious blur of sleeping and eating, and every moment he spent awake and not eating felt weirdly unreal, as if time had come to a stop. The sensation of physical numbness that accompanied the paralysis of his feelings kept pervading him, too. Still, even as he wallowed in his apathy, he managed to make use of Angela and Brad's listening ear, which helped. It had felt good to tell them about how he had meticulously tried to avoid hinting at his gayness in the presence of family members, for instance. Be that as it may, he always choked up when his story reached the chapter containing Jacob, and it was here that Angela and Brad felt that something big had happened. They tried reaching out to it, as if they were trying to recover a coin that had slipped in-between a wall and a closet, but all to no avail; Edward kept his mouth shut on the topic, and there was only so much Brad and Angela could do. They decided to wait for Edward to open up by himself; their meddling only seemed to make matters worse.

One night, a week after his failed suicide attempt, Edward awoke from his sleep. It was some time before midnight. Drowsy and a morning breath filling his mouth, he lay in bed, propped up on his arms, so as to inspect the room. There was nothing unusual to see…. It was dark in the room, and outside seemed even darker. He stared out the window lazily, watching to see if anything interesting would happen. Of course he was disappointed, prompting him to slip out of bed, stumble awkwardly through the door and into the bathroom. He filled himself a glass of water, gulped it down quickly, and returned to his room.

He softly slipped back inside his room and closed the door behind him when new thoughts flooded his feeble mind. Suddenly he remembered that it was exactly a week ago, to the hour even, that he had given up on life and hoped the night and winter would take him. Feelings of dread overtook him as his memories swept him back to the cold winter night in the forest, almost erasing the revitalization that his mind and mending soul had gone through over the last few days. It's true: murmurs of subdued feelings had started presenting themselves again to his consciousness, one by one. Thus it seemed his heart had started beating again, gearing up to continue living. But now, with the avalanche of memories assaulting his drowsy brain, that progress was quenched.

Edward groped the door handle to his room as a sinking feeling of panic overtook him. For the first time it dawned on him what had happened and his eyes widened in horror as he realized that he could have been dead right now. The notion crushed into his enfeebled mind like a tsunami washes away a rickety, wooden hut. His legs started trembling, after which a sensation of loss and blind panic quickly pervaded the rest of his body, making him quiver like a feather. He plummeted down onto the floor, in foetus position, groping his legs as tears of anxiety timidly presented themselves to the world. Soon he sobbing audibly, and not much later hot tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto the floor where they created small, humid spots on the white carpet. His sobs and snivels remained relatively quiet at first, but as the memories of that winter night increasingly imposed themselves upon his now awakened consciousness, his body trembled more strongly and his tears invaded his lush, humid cheeks in greater numbers; his sobs grew more intense.

After a week of obstructing apathy, emotional and physical numbness and continual indifference about the world and his life, he finally broke down crying. All the psychological trauma that he had sustained and had bottled up now forced its way out, breaking forcefully through his frozen exterior with newfound determination.

A knock on the door didn't make him stop. He barely noticed how the door was subsequently opened and rays of light descended down upon his body, which was numb and cold with sorrow. Through the haze of delirious grief that shrouded his senses, he felt a warm hand appear on his shoulders, and quieting and soothing babbling reached his ears. He felt how he was dragged up by his armpits and raised, so that he was lying somewhat awkwardly against somebody. Edward kept crying through all that exercise, a hand stroking his hairs gently as his tears found their way to freedom.

So he lay for the better part of an hour, all the harm that had bottled itself up finally exposed to the world. When he started to calm down he managed to turn around, and he saw he had been lying against Brad all this time. His first reaction was of surprise, but he soon concluded that he truly and honestly didn't give a damn – though this time it wasn't apathy that caused him to feel that way; it was relief.

He lay against Brad's body and lost himself in his strong arms, a lush wave of sense-numbing relief washing away the last of the thought-inhibiting shards that had guarded him from feeling hurt. The trembling of his body quieted down and his limbs felt strangely warm and revitalized, even in the face of exhaustion, for these intense feelings had completely drained him of energy. So this is what it feels like to have a caring father, he finally admitted to himself.

After years of his father's intolerant and abusive commentaries and cold and distant disposition towards his children, Edward felt shocked at the warmth and love he was now receiving. He felt himself like a small boy again; how it had felt when he had dropped off his bike, his face planted roughly onto the cold road. His mother had come running to him and had picked him up. She caressed his head, kissed his face soothingly and mumbled quieting phrases at him. He remembered well how her hands had held him in a tight embrace as she calmed him down, had smiled at him, and told him how she would eternally love him.

What a joke!

The thoughts of his mother brought back salty tears as he was reminded of all he had lost. Once again he erupted into crying, causing him not to notice how the door had opened up wider and a second figure had appeared in the room. Angela had come in and had taken a crouched position next to Edward and her husband. He hadn't noticed how she had started stroking his hair gently, pressed a small kiss onto his forehead, and had started mumbling soothing words at him. Meanwhile she had stared at her husband lovingly, and they had embraced each other with the one free arm they both had. So they all embraced each other: Angela, Brad and Edward, unified in a tight grasp.

Even if he hadn't initially noticed Angela coming into the room, Edward had become aware of the embrace almost instantaneously: he felt how his body tingled pleasantly with surprise when it was pulled into Brad and Angela's hug, and how he was subsequently pressed into their warm, caring bodies. A welcoming calmness pervaded the scene.

Fuelled by their warmth, care and the shock of reliving the memories of recent events, the dam now broke completely: he let out all of his insulted feelings, which had accumulated over the summer and had been lovingly nurtured by his family's homophobia. Finally, all the refuse that had drained him from his energy to live; fostered his anger towards his father; nurtured a resentment towards his family; numbed and clouded his mind and emotions… all washed out of the pit in which it was all held. Shocked by the ever-increasing love he was receiving, his crying intensified with feelings of sheer relief that mindlessly hit his heart and made his soul quiver under the heavy load of joy and feelings of liberation.

Rays of golden light protruded through the thick webs that had entrapped Edward's feelings and descended down into the deepest crevices of his broken spirit, bathing his demented emotional machinery in a mending and hopeful radiance. Slowly, the machinery, brought to a screeching halt by the weight of feelings that a teenager should never have been allowed to experience, started running again. The old gears, rusty and drained of energy, screeched noisily as the first cogs were set into motion. Steam hissing and puffs of smoke announced the restart of Edward's mental life as reinstated emotions reached up into his consciousness once again.

These people, whom he had only met a week ago, had accepted him for what he was; had given him a home, talked to him about his problems, gradually melted the ice that fixated his feelings, and were finally able to break his stasis. As the embrace of Brad and Angela continued, it fuelled his emotional machinery further, and he felt enlightened by their invigorating affection.

The rest of the night had progressed in the same vain: the three of them lay on the floor, holding each other. Edward groped the couple, and the couple held Edward tightly clenched in their embrace. As they did so, Edward's sobbing had died down so that they found themselves in a pleasant silence. The air was heavy with Edward's emotions that had been ejected from his subdued soul so forcefully, but inside their embrace, the air was light with the relief that all of them felt. Angela and Brad looked at each other and Edward intermittently, smiling and stroking his hair softly. They couldn't do but feel proud of him and be happy that they had succeeded in breaking through the ice. Now there was hope for Edward, and though he was still fragile, they dared dream of seeing him repaired and with a smile on his face.

Around 5AM Edward was once again tightly asleep. Brad and Angela, tired but content, together put him back to bed, tucked him in, and slipped out of the room. Soon, the house was cloaked in silence as the last of Edward's hurt drifted out into the cold winter night.

The following days went by quickly, and Edward seemed to do better every day. While he relapsed into doubt and sorrow every once in a while, it was never as dramatic as what had occurred during that night, a few days ago. When it did happen, Brad, Angela or both of them were there to help him out of it again. Their nurturing and soothing calmness restored parts of Edward's confidence, and he dreaded life less with every day that passed.

Roughly a week later, Edward sat in the living room, bathed in the glow of the setting sun as he read a book – Psychoanalytical theories by Sigmund Freud – and listened to a whiny violinist assaulting his poor instrument. Still, the dramatically performed music attracted Edward in a way that he could not describe, prompting him to put the book down in his lap and close his eyes, so as to focus on the music. As he closed his eyes and the blackness of his eyelids replaced the image of Brad and Angela's living room, his brain took over, and projected memories and thoughts onto those eyelids, using them like a projector screen. On that projector screen, it played a long-lost memory: the dream Edward had had of Jacob. Edward quickly opened his eyes.

Jacob.

Somebody that he hadn't thought about for over a week had suddenly found his way back into his recuperating mind. With the memory of the boy with the sculpted abs and perfectly proportioned chest, feelings of arousal were re-awakened; feelings that he had also forgotten about completely. As excitement took hold of his loins, he found his hand itching with a craving that he couldn't put his finger on, but it was a craving that was familiar to him. He again closed his eyes, and explored his old memories, including the ones that brought him back to the night he had spent with the wonderfully submissive native.

So he sat in the chair, in the living room, drowning in those pleasant memories, when everything was still unspoiled. He opened his mouth slightly as he breathed softly and slowly. His body relaxed, compelled to rest by the exciting remembrance. As if on autopilot his itching hand slipped to his groin, and he carefully started to massage his slowly hardening limb through the fabric of his pants. The craving itch slowly subsided, as he remembered everything again; it had been such a long time since he had cum! He licked his lips as he felt the desire to do so increase again.

He looked over his shoulder to see if anybody was there. There was nobody, but still he stood up and walked up the steps to his room. He closed the door softly and locked it, went to lie on the bed, and unbuttoned his pants. He slipped his hand inside, massaging his semi-hard dick through the fabric of his underwear. The warm touch of his hand against his cock, his fingers gently caressing his balls, made him moan ever so softly as he rested his head on the soft pillows. He held his forehead with his free hand as he submerged himself in the memories.

He went through the night with Jacob, for the first time in two weeks. Something had changed from that time, however: previously, in the forest, he had found himself stroking his throbbing limb less gently and with increasing despair. And as he had progressed through the memories and had recollected the frenzied fucking, he had jerked off with increasing speed, hoping that when he finally came, the rush of ecstasy would rival the bliss he had felt in Jacob's car. When he came he had been pumping his cock almost hysterically with agonized despair, but the ecstasy he felt was but a meagre representation of the real thing.

Back then – the last time he had cum to those memories – it had felt like those memories were the last thing in the world that could give him some form of hope or strength. So different was today, when he lay in this soft bed. He stroked himself lovingly at he thought of Jacob, and kneaded his balls gently between his index and thumb. When he thought of how Jacob had widened his eyes in fear of the fucking Edward was about to give him, he didn't stroke himself with increasing force and agitation; instead he opened his eyes, and looked at the ceiling, slightly shocked.

Now that he felt more or less freed from the burden that was his family, had received love and warmth from people that accepted him the way he was, and was as a result able to think more clearly, his sadistic tendencies seemed a lot less "normal" than previously. What kind of person enjoys paining his partner for sexual pleasure? He couldn't lie to himself about it though: he had enjoyed it that night with Jacob, and the thought of spanking Jacob still made him hard. The evidence to that fact was insurmountable: he held his cock firmly as his thoughts unravelled, and as they did so, he felt how his cock went from semi-hard to fully erect. And when Edward thought of collaring Jacob and dragging him around on a leash, having him eat food from the floor, having him bark and calling him "his pet" or "his little slave", he couldn't deny the excitement that gripped his loins and filled them with delight.

His now erect cock twitched, asking for his undivided attention. Carefully repressing his doubts regarding his sadistic tendencies, he returned his attention to his dick as he continued to jerk off with slow pumps. He closed his eyes again and went through the memories, imagining and reliving every moan and groan to the smallest detail. He tried to re-breath the air that he had breathed that night; he hoped to see the colours again as vivid as he had seen them that night. Shrouded by pleasure, his senses dulled and his imagination working top-speed, he soon found himself back in that car. As the memory progressed, his jerking off increased in rate and intensity. Then he finally came: he moaned loudly as cum lurched forward over his abs; it was noticeable that he hadn't cum in a while! He breathed heavily in the aftermath, still slowly pumping his cock to milk himself dry and experience every last morsel of ecstasy that he could get.

When he was done, he simply lay on the bed, eyes closed. So desperate as his jerking off had been two weeks ago, so calm and loving had it been now. The knowledge that people out there seemingly accepted and loved him, even if he didn't understand why, had drained him from his most immediate anger and resentment, allowing him to see the world in a different way. The sun's rays seemed more brilliant than they were previously, and the sky was clearer than it was cloudy; like the glass of milk next to his bed was now half-full instead of half-empty. His breathing had quieted. He was calm and relaxed, and his thoughts drifted to all kinds of places. But whatever place they drifted to, they always ended up converging on Jacob: the native with the beautiful muscles, the wonderful jaws and impressive neck, who had been able to free Edward's animal self all those nights ago.

His animal self. As the memories of Jacob and that night seeped back into his consciousness, he realized how his gut burned with the desire to do it all again. Weird or not, he was a domineering sadist, and he needed another fix.

Then he remembered his dream. At the time it had seemed ludicrous, but now, as he felt invigorated and relaxed, as if he had been brought back to the living, he felt renewed hope emerge within him. Perhaps Jacob could help him out, if only by offering a listening ear…. Not because Brad and Angela weren't good enough, but Jacob was his age, and had maybe faced the same fears. Perhaps he'd understand. Perhaps he'd be able to help….

Perhaps he ought to try and contact Jacob.