Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or anything to do with it, however the OC's are all my own. The concept of Jasper being the 'God of War' is something that I've read in a few fics, but I don't know where it originates, so I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit's due! Plus, I have no idea what Louisiana, or Wisconsin are like - I'm from England, so please, forgive any mistakes. Have a great day, and I love you guys!
TRIGGER WARNINGS! Mentions of rape.
Camilla POV
October 2020
Madison, Wisconsin
Alice was in the middle of finishing her own nails; sky blue, with thin pristine white tips, when Rosalie slid over to me, as I sat, reading some kind of trash-talking gossip magazine, and asked, in a surprisingly quiet, vulnerable tone, "Hey… Do you think I could talk to you for a second?"
My eyes widened of their own accord, and I replied, taken aback, "S-Sure."
She nodded, happily, and answered, "We can go to my room."
"O-Okay."
Slowly, Rosalie led me to her bedroom - which I assumed she shared with Emmett, if the video console in the corner gave anything away, and I couldn't help but stand, awkwardly, as Rose sauntered into her room, and sat, gracefully, on the edge of her bed, as if she were waiting for me to do the same.
It was clean, which wasn't a surprise, as Rosalie struck me as the type to be anally-retentive about cleanliness, especially having to share a room with Emmett, who was practically the size of the average black bear, and seemed like he'd take up just as much space.
She grinned, ethereally, at me, and prompted, with a soft gleam in her eyes, "Sit… If you want?"
Awkwardly, I scratched at my palm, and muttered a stiff "Thanks," in response. Arduously, I sat down, my fingers intertwining with one another, and my lower lip aching as I chewed on it, awkwardly.
"Okay, so I'll start. I have this issue," she paused. "I'm a real bitch sometimes."
Oh.
She continued, with a sad smile gracing her lips, "I don't even know I'm doing it- No. That's an excuse. I don't like being around people I don't know, and Emmett says that I need to express how I feel more, rather than keep it inside, so here it is. I felt really… Threatened when you were here, and I don't know why. I didn't give you a chance, and I really am sorry for that."
It took a moment for me to absorb everything she just said, and when I finally did, I stuttered, pathetically, "I-It's okay."
She huffed, clearly frustrated, and replied, "No, it's really not. I was really mean to you, and I'm sorry for that."
"I- Alright."
She turned to me, confused, then asked, blankly, "That's it?"
Shrugging, curtly, I answered, as nonchalantly, yet honestly, as I could manage, and said, "Yeah. I mean, I don't know what you want me to say. You've said you were a bitch. I'm not going to lie and say that you're wrong, because you were. I tried my hardest to make a good impression, and you shot me down, without even getting to know me. I felt awful, but I got over it. I wouldn't be here right now if I felt a certain way. I'm over it."
"Oh," she stared at me, vacantly, for a moment, her perfect mouth forming a small 'o' shape, and she added, "Good. This 'apologising' thing is easier than I thought."
We weren't best friends, but I felt that the block of ice, that had wedge itself between the possibility of us being at least cordial, had chipped slightly.
-0-
We shifted our little soirée from the living room once the boys came back and they wanted the Games Area to themselves, almost immediately after they trudged inside, all muddy and gross-looking. Needless to say, they were fucking loud as every living shit and it pissed the girls off, so we moved to Alice's bedroom; a surprisingly large area, half of it dedicated to her arts and crafts work, a large walk-in closet filled with her own sleek, stylish creations as well as expensive, designer clothes; ones that I already knew that I wouldn't be able to even dream about purchasing in my lifetime. The floor was covered with soft jet black carpet, her walls having been painted a burgundy colour, the four poster bed directly in the centre of the main wall, covered with a thick white duvet and fluffy, duck-feather pillows, of which we were all lounged around on.
Somehow, through the topic of conversation, we had gotten onto the subject of boyfriends, both present and past.
My cheeks were still bruised a bright red from Alice's detailed rendition of her and Clyde's first time. I really didn't need to fucking hear about my brother. Or his "firm, toned" back. Or the sound he made when he- No. Jesus, I might just vomit.
"What about you, Cammy?" Char asked, my mouth filled with popcorn, the flat screen TV playing some soppy romantic shit that I really didn't care about, and I pushed myself further up the bed, my back pressed against her headboard, and said, nervously, "I.. Well I don't really do the 'boyfriend' thing, I guess."
"How come?"
I pulled the pillow that had been perched between my knees, to my chest, and I said, quietly, "I don't.. I don't really want to talk about it."
Rose nudged me, playfully, "Come on.. We're not going to judge you, Cam. We're not like that here."
My face was pushed into the pillow, so I knew she couldn't see the tears that lined my eyes. I couldn't tell them. I couldn't.. could I? Clyde told me that they had good intentions.. But.. I just couldn't force the words from my lips. What he did to me.. What he took from me. I couldn't ever get that back.
Would they be ashamed of me? Would they think I was lying? On more than one occasion, I've overheard people talk about rape victims, as if they were the ones who asked for it.
That wasn't the case.
I didn't ask him to touch me. He just did and he wouldn't let me go. He was bigger, older, more experienced than I was, and he made me feel so.. Dirty, that for a very long time, I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror.
Suddenly, I felt Alice's hand rub small circles in the small of my back and soothed, comfortingly, "It's alright, Camilla.. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. It's fine."
I had even realised I had started crying until I was ruining the plush pillow in my hands with my eyeliner.
"I-I'm s-sorry," I mumbled, hiding my face in my hands, out of shame. Rose placed her hand on my shoulder, and whispered, good-naturedly, "A problem shared is a problem halved."
Blinking, vacantly, I bit my bottom lip, and pulled at my palm, until the skin was red and irritated.
"I.. I had a boyfriend o-once," I admitted, after a moment of silence, and Char sat up then, her eyes shining with worry for me, "I was a kid.. Only 15. He was older than me.. 18. He.. He was cool, you know. Motorcycles, cigarettes, alcohol. All of those magical things that girls loved in guys.. And he knew it. He was a bad-boy, in its truest form. And I thought I was in love with him."
Alice shuffled closer to me, but not in that nosey way that would probably, in this situation, would have been insensitive and heartless, but caringly, with concern in her eyes. I continued, lost in my own world, "He.. He liked me, for some wild reason, and I felt like.. Someone was finally paying me some attention. All of the girls were jealous. They wanted him, and I had him.. But.. They didn't see him the way I saw him."
Char stammered, "What do you mean?"
Staring away from them, my eyes unfocused and a little glassy, "He used to hit me."
Shocked gasps rang through the bedroom, and I felt all eyes burning holes into the sides of my head.
Alice exclaimed, shocked, "Does Clyde know?"
"Not about the hitting.. I couldn't tell him that," I grabbed her hand, "Please don't tell him. Please, it'll kill him. He cant know."
Her eyes were torn - she didn't want to lie, but she knew I wasn't lying. Clyde would implode if he knew his little sister had someone putting hands on her, and he didn't know about it. Rose's expression was thoughtful, then, and she asked, "What else is there to know? You said he didn't know about the hitting.. But.. Is there more?"
Biting my lip, harder this time, and the sharp pain brought me out of my reverie, "I don't want to talk about this," and as Char opened her mouth, I yelled, loudly, "I cant!"
"Did he.. Touch you, Cammy?"
Rosalie's expression was unreadable as she stared at me, and my stomach dropped, as well as my heart. I couldn't breathe - I couldn't think. Everything was too.. Much. I hadn't spoken to anyone about this but my brother, and even then, I lied to him on a daily basis, whenever he asked if there was anything else I had to tell him.
"Did he?" she asked, her tone thicker, more emotional that I had ever heard it, and I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. Almost unable to help myself, I blinked, tears trailing my cheeks, without my permission, and before I realised what was going on, she had her arms around my neck, and I was pulled to her, tightly, and she was hugging me. Besides myself with anxiety, I gripped tighter to her, as if she was my tether to this very world, and I cried.
Not that cute, single tear cry, but full-on sobbing into her expensive kimono, but she didn't care. Char had her hands running through the ends of my hair, soothingly, and Alice held both of my hands, tightly, in hers. By the end of the night, the cotton shorts I was wearing was damp with tears; some fresh, some dried, all my own.
-0-
Peter POV
As soon as the girls started watching those fuckin' romance movies, we knew it was our time to leave. Edward and Bella were still out, probably fuckin' in the woods somewhere. Hell, I would be, too, if my girl wasn't already predisposed.
Aw, Hell.
"Thinking about Char, Petey?" Em chuckled, as he rolled up the control pad and tucked it beneath the large television screen, above the XBOX that we had been playing for the last hour an a half. Clipping him on the back of his head, I scowled, "Shut up, Emmy, Rose is up there, too, if you've fuckin' forgotten."
Thankfully he chose that moment to shut up, and reflect on his words. He's a fuckin' lug when he wanted to be, you know.
"Come on," Jazz said, quietly, his eyes tight, as if he was fighting with himself to not glance upstairs. "Let's go."
My knower started burning, in the back of my head, throwing me forward, out of the house, my hand, not of my own volition, ushered Jazz out of the house, and he stared at me, his eyes squinted with annoyance. He snarled, with no real malice in his tone, yet confusion etched in his eyes, "What'chu touchin' me for, Pete?"
Shrugging, I tapped the side of my head, and he scoffed, under his breath "Yeah.. 'Course, your fuckin' 8-ball is kickin' in now, huh?" and promptly disappeared.
My knower stopped hurtin', then, and Em followed behind him, soon after, leavin' me to trail behind them, slowly, still listenin' to the girls conversation. I didn't know why, but my knower was ordering me to stick around.
"He was a bad-boy, in its truest form. And I thought I was in love with him."
Of course she did.
She was a looker, that girl up there, and there was something about her that just drew us in. She was so beautiful, especially for a human; long hair, freckled skin, pouting lips. I'm sure she liked her guys a little rough around the edges.
"They wanted him, and I had him.. But.. They didn't see him the way I saw him"
My stomach clenched, then, for the first time in nearly 155 years, and I felt genuine dread drip into my system, kinda like our venom, 'cept it stung and ate away at my cold heart, rather than burned like a bitch through my veins.
If she said what I thought she was goin' to say, I was goin' to find this bastard, and tear him apart. His life would be mine to extinguish. There was no way I would allow someone to put their hands on my maker's mate. That wasn't how we Whitlock's did shit. We protected our own.
"He used to hit me."
Yeah. This fucker was goin' to die.
Soon.
If she would say his name, just his name, I would find him, and break every bone in his body. Over and over again until he went delirious from the mere levels of pain I would put him through.
"Did he.. Touch you, Cammy?"
Sweet Jesus. I fell to the floor, my legs not being able to hold up my trembling weight as soon as I heard the sound of her tears drip down the sides of her face.
She didn't even have to say anything else. The damage was done.
She had been abused and raped, at 15 years old, by someone she trusted. And that particular someone would die, painfully. There would be no dispute with this.
Jazz couldn't know about this. He just.. He just couldn't. He couldn't even accept her as his mate, not yet at least, but his inner beast would become rampant at the thought of her being forced into something as heinous as non-consensual sex. The thought of her being touched drives him nuts.. He would have to kill; it is in his genetic coding. He wouldn't be able to stop it.
He'd be furious to know she'd been with someone else, but to know she didn't want to would break him apart. He would feel like a failure as a mate, even if he hadn't known of her existence at the time. And she didn't know about our kind - it would be down to Jasper to tell her about us, it wasn't our place. I was surprised Alice hadn't told Clyde about us yet, but I was sure he had some kind of inclination. Not about the vampirism, per se, but.. He knew there was something was off with our family, but he jus' didn't have enough.. Proof, I guess.
I wished she would jus' tell him - but I knew that he, in turn, would tell her about his sister. And then my thoughts came full circle.
I felt sick.
If a vampire could vomit, that moment would be now, and I would be spewing all of the animal blood that I hard gorged on a few hours ago. Jesus, why was everything so sharp? My breathing, my eyesight, everything felt like knives, stabbing at every expanse of my body. Leaning against the tree trunk besides me, I took in a few deep breaths, before I quelled all murderous intent, removing them from my mind, as best I could, and, with bated breath, I followed Jasper's scent, to a large creek nearly 16 miles West of the house.
"What took you so long, fucker?," Jasper asked, and it took everything in me to force the next words from my mouth, without appearing too suspicious, and also trying to wash away the heavy feeling on my tongue that always came from lying to my sire, "Jus' thinking' 'bout Char an' I got a little caught up.. Sorry, Jazz."
He caught somethin' in my emotions, but didn't comment, turning back to the creek, and we listened to the wind as it passed by, Emmett flanking my left, reclined on a tree trunk, Jasper standing atop a boulder, and myself, directly in the centre, the moonlight caressing our forms with her gentle touch.
Alright, lovelies,
I don't have as much free time to write and update, so I'm sorry, but I am NOT abandoning my stories. I have over 50 chapters for this story already written, it's just that I don't have enough spare time.
If you want to share this online or if you review and favourite, I would be so grateful! I love you guys! These stories are everything to me, and I want to keep them all going!