A/N: Elysian Fields was a reference to the Tennessee Williams play "A Streetcar Named Desire" - it's the street Stanley and Stella live on. It's also a heaven of sorts in Greek mythology. I used it in the paragraph about the back seat of the car being as sultry as a Tennessee Williams play. Big Love to betas mac214 and jkane180 and DoUTrustMe for prereading. DoMe and I just completed our collab "Don't Fear the Reaper" and there's a link on my profile.
Facebook Status: Going to La Push. Wish me luck!
Edward Cullen's Walll - Bella Swan: Check your texts. I'm in La Push. Come get me, please!
Bella Swan's Wall - Edward Cullen: On my way. Sorry, I was out and just got your texts.
Bella Swan's Wall - Edward Cullen: I'm almost there. You didn't answer my text.
Bella Swan's Wall - Edward Cullen: I'm here. Where are you? Answer my text.
New text message from E.A. Cullen: Bella? Answer your phone.
({})
"What's the verdict, Bells?" Charlie asked, piling his fishing gear onto the porch. I fidgeted in the doorway with my iPhone, glaring at my empty notification box. Fuck, I couldn't stay home all day waiting for him to call. But then again, what if he did call? I'd be stuck at Billy's with my dad.
"Staying home," I mumbled.
"You're acting strange," he mused, picking up the extra fishing pole even though I clearly muttered under my breath that I wouldn't be joining him.
"Leave it, Dad. I'm not coming!" I pulled up my Facebook to see if Edward had updated his status recently. He hadn't commented on mine; I would've gotten an email notification if he did. Of course, I hadn't changed it since yesterday. Fuck if I wasn't becoming complacent!
His status read: Missing my pretty girl.
Holy fuck! That was me, right? He called me "pretty girl" all the time! Wait, hold on a sec - it was a generic sort of pet name. Maybe he called all his fuck-buddies by the same name so as not to confuse us. Shit - Charlie was staring at me while I wrestled with paranoia and a billion stupid insecurities.
"Bella? Is this about," he paused, shifting uncomfortably, "a boy?"
"Um. No?" It's about a sex god, thank you very much!
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Edward's cock. Fuck, I was desperate to get my hands, my mouth, my cunt on it again. I was fixated in a way that was clearly obsessive: all my thoughts were polarized on Edward's, well, pole. But I couldn't very well tell this to my dad. "I'm feeling icky." Gah. Did I just say 'icky'?
"Did you just say 'icky'?" he asked incredulously.
"I think I'm having my period," I said loudly, but he didn't even flinch.
"You think you're having your period? Jeez, Bells, isn't that something a woman should know?"
"I'm bleeding a bit. Maybe." I was totally lying, of course.
"Bleed or bleed not, there is no maybe."
"Holy shit, Dad! Did you just crack a joke? Was that a Yoda impression?"
"I'm in a good mood." He shrugged, whistling what could only be described as a happy tune.
Oh . . . oh god, ew. "Shit, Dad. Did you, um . . . get laid?"
"What?" He dropped his fishing pole, tripping over the tackle box. Colourful lures spilled out, and I knelt beside him to help pick them up, nearly impaling my finger on one of the hooks because I was Bella Swan.
"Sex, Dad. Did you get some?"
"Er . . . well . . . "
"Who did you bait your hook with? And don't be heavy with the details."
"Sue Clearwater." He blushed. He fucking blushed! I wasn't sure what to think, but I felt like I should offer advice or encouragement of some sort.
"You dog," I jeered, awkwardly slapping him on the back. "Way to tap that ass."
"Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't say shit like that."
"Sorry. Just trying to be that son you never had." I smiled at him in earnest. It was nice to see him happy about something other than fishing or football or ammunition. "I mean, Jake's like your surrogate son or whatever, and I know you have trouble relating to me because of the tits-"
He scowled. "It's not your girl-parts that make you difficult to understand." He set his gear in the flatbed of my truck and turned back toward me. "Bella, you scare the crap outta me most of the time, but you gotta know I love you more than anything in the world."
"Shut the fuck up," I said, feeling my eyes water with stupid tears.
"I'm gonna hug you."
"Don't you dare!" I grabbed a fishing pole and held it up like a sword. A silly grin broke out over Dad's face, and I giggled as he chased me around the car.
"You can run, little girl, but you can't hide. Get ready for that hug."
You can't shut me out, Isabella. Don't run from me.
He wrapped his arms around me, and I screamed, bringing my knee up to his groin.
-({})-
Sunlight streamed stubbornly through the dense cloud cover. I kept my eyes fixed skyward through the open window as we shot down the highway, faster than Charlie typically liked to drive.
But it wasn't fast enough for me to escape the memories that poured like lava through my mind, burning through my soft tissue. That's what it felt like: not a cleansing fire but an incineration of my sanity.
Sometimes I felt like a pile of ash, a cigar left to burn.
"Who is he?"
"My mother's husband."
"Did he hurt you?"
"He does… hurt me. Every day. It never stops - this weight on me. I can't breathe. I want to breathe."
"Tell me what happened?"
"I can't." I shook my head and smiled coolly. "Will you teach me to smoke a cigar?"
"I'm sorry, Bella. You can't smoke a metaphor."
Fuck, I'd been doing so well. I'd thought things were getting better.
"I'm so sorry," I blubbered, still inconsolable as we pulled off the 101 onto the dusty road that led to Jake's.
"I know, Bells. I told you I'm fine."
"You're not fine. I kicked you in the balls."
"Yeah, about that . . . what the fuck?" He was still breathing strangely, like I'd knocked the wind out of him, and he still hadn't pulled a proper breath into his lungs.
"I- I don't like to be touched," I said lamely.
His brow furrowed, as if in thought, as he wrenched the wheel of the truck, turning into the Blacks' driveway. "I think it's time I have a chat with that therapist of yours. Obviously he isn't helping."
"That's not fair! I only started seeing him. Look, if it's about the money, I'll . . ." I'll what? Demand Phil send me more? I couldn't text him. Not anymore. That shit was over. "I'll get a job or something."
"You like therapy?" Charlie's voice was skeptical.
"I don't know. I like Dr. Banner. I think maybe he's helping me." Clearly, kicking my father in the dick was evidence of this.
"Well," he grumbled, "I guess that's something. But, Bells, I really wish you'd talk to me. Ever think maybe I could help?"
"I dunno . . . I talk to Jake and stuff."
"I thought you kids were fighting still." Charlie pushed the car into park and looked at me before cutting the ignition. "He punched the wall."
"He was confused about some stuff I told him."
"He punched the wall because he was confused?"
"Yeah. My poor wall never stood a chance against his hissy fit. Men are very frustrating with their random bursts of testosterone-fuelled violence."
"Men, huh?" He threw me a weary look and jumped out of the car. "What about women and their irrationality? You set his car on fire."
"I think I was having my period that day . . . maybe."
-({})-
Billy eyed me warily when I refused to join them on the fishing boat.
"Jake's not home," he said gruffly.
He was totally lying. I could hear Jake's iPod playing Rage Against the Machine through his closed bedroom door just beyond the entryway.
"I don't think it's a good idea, Bell-"
"Aw, c'mon, Billy. Don't be such a drama queen. Let the kids make up." Charlie grabbed Billy's chair and pushed it back so he was doing wheelies.
"You got laid, didn't you?" Billy laughed as they continued on down the driveway.
"He totally did," I yelled, closing the front door and taking the six measly steps to Jake's room. I knocked, tentatively at first, and then loudly when my efforts elicited no reply.
The music cut suddenly, and I scowled. "Dude! Don't be an asshole."
Maybe he was getting laid? Huh, I certainly didn't want to interrupt that. But there wasn't anyone else's shoes at the front door, and I was pretty sure Billy would've loved to mention if Leah was in his room since he was into that whole "impression" bullshit. Fuck, imprint, I meant.
"C'mon, Jake," I pleaded, banging on his bedroom door for the umpteenth time. My knuckles were turning purple. "Let me the fuck in! We need to talk."
"Go away, Bells," he groaned.
"I need you, Jake. You promised you'd be my friend no matter what." I fake-cried then. I knew, it was a crap move for me to make, but it was for the greater good - to save our friendship. "Please," I sobbed.
"Fuck you!" he cursed. "You're the worst fake-crier in the world."
Excellent! His resolve was wavering. No, not really. This wasn't going to go well, I could tell. I sent a quick text to Edward, imploring him to come pick me up so I wouldn't have to wait all day for Charlie to return. But first, one last shot . . .
"Little pig, little pig, let me in! Or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow you."
The door swung open, and Jake glared at me with wild, dark eyes. "You're a fucking liar."
"What the fuck? I didn't lie; well, except about blowing you. I won't do that." I smiled timidly, admittedly taken aback by the hate he conveyed. Shit, even when I destroyed his car, he never acted like such a mean asshole. "Let me in," I repeated in a gentler tone, attempting to soothe the savage beast.
"You're a disgusting, sick person." He grabbed my arm roughly and pulled, nearly dislocating my shoulder with the sudden jolt. "Do you have any fucking clue what I gave up for you?"
"I didn't ask you-"
"No. You didn't. You made up some bullshit story about fucking your stepdad to gain my sympathy. Do you have any idea how devastated I've been thinking that he- that you-"
"Jake, stop." My throat tightened with panic. I wanted to scream, to fight, to explain myself, but too many emotions and terrible memories were rushing to the surface. I'd carefully repressed so much, seeking solace in Jake's seemingly boundless friendship, but I couldn't take it. I couldn't stand seeing him look at me like I was dirt. Shit, I'd have rather faced Phil than the naked loathing in Jake's eyes.
Like a river undammed, my shame flooded over me in a tidal wave. Had I misled him?
"I fucking hate you," he spat venomously, and I crumpled to the ground as if I'd been kicked in the gut.
"You . . . don't . . . you . . . don't." I tried to find the words, to breath, to explain myself, but the darkness came so quickly. I closed my eyes but couldn't chase away the well of hatred in Jake's eyes. It was an agony I didn't understand; my mind literally tried to reject it. This wasn't just darkness or fear or the oppressive weight on my chest that I'd grown accustomed to. This was the same anguish that made me want to die.
"Stand up. Get the fuck out of my house." He pulled me to my feet, but I fell forward, smacking my head against his chest. For an instant, his arms shot out to steady me. I tried to wrap my arms around him, but he shoved me away. I felt my feet slip beneath me, and I teetered sideways, clipping the side of my cheek off his bedroom door,.
Pain shot through my jaw, but it was nothing compared to the stake through the heart that was Jake's loathing.
I knew a thing or two about pain - sometimes pain merely cast a dim shadow, but this . . . this was true hell.
"I didn't lie."
"Bullshit. Rape victims aren't virgins."
"What? What?" I repeated the word like an idiot. I knew I'd have to explain myself, but I never for a nanosecond thought Jake would believe I'd made this shit up about Phil.
"Fuck you!" I howled, cradling my head with my left hand and forming a fist with my right. I snapped my arm forward and connected with Jake's jaw. He looked at me in shock, rubbing his face. "No intercourse."
"What?" His bottom lip hung down in an obscene pout, his eyes flashing wildly, madly searching my face for something. "What?" he repeated dumbly.
I spoke quickly before I lost my nerve or he tried to stop me. "He'd come into my room and touch me, just touch me, at first, but a little wasn't enough for long. And when Renee wasn't home, he'd get bolder, taking more clothes off, taking more liberties, taking pieces until I was nothing but a void; I was a void he filled with his cock. But no intercourse. He put it in my mouth, so I couldn't scream." I gasped for air. "He said- he said it wasn't really bad if he didn't put it in me. He said what we did was fine. He said-"
"Stop... stop... I can't." Fat tears rolled down Jake's face.
"I'm not lying. I didn't lie!"
"I wish you did. Fuck!" he yelled, ramming his fist into the wall. Maybe he wanted to hurt too. Maybe it was easier to deal with a sore head than an aching psyche.
"You believe me? Please, Jake, please don't hate me. I swear to fucking god I'm telling you the truth."
He keened into his hands, violent sobs wracking his chest before he could calm himself and draw enough breath into his lungs to speak.
"Bella, I'm just a . . . I mean, I don't know what to do. Tell me what do do?"
"It's okay, Jake," I whispered gratefully. He needed to be comforted; I couldn't fall apart. He needed me.
He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. "Why- why didn't you tell me what he did?"
I knelt down and crawled into his lap, sighing in relief when his arms tightened around me. "I don't like thinking about it, Jake. I didn't think you wanted details. He fucked me. He fucked me up and fucked me over. Fuck is fuck is fuck. Does it matter where he put his-"
"Stop," he sobbed into my hair. "I can't do this anymore."
"Do what?" I nuzzled my head against his, trying to calm him.
"I can't keep this secret, Bells. Please don't make me keep this."
"What are you saying?" I yelled, jumping to my feet. "No, this is my secret-"
"Fuck, Bells. No, it's not." He stood up too, stomping past me and grabbing his coat from the hook by the door.
"Where the fuck are you going?" I asked frantically.
He didn't reply, and I was unable to move, paralyzed with dread. I watched him throw open the door so hard the screen shuddered and separated from the frame.
No. He couldn't!
"You can't tell Charlie," I tried to scream, but my voice didn't carry far enough.
My life would be over if Charlie knew. I couldn't live with him knowing . . . all the terrible, disgusting, loathsome things I let happen.
With shaking fingers, I sent a series of frantic texts to Edward. By the time I was done, Jake was probably already at the beach.
The last time I was at First Beach I'd thought I was drowning.
Now it felt like a fantasy - a far off memory.
Like a flash freeze, a cold realization settled deep inside me. Before I'd passed out from a fever that day, I'd watched Jake's friends cliff dive into the ocean.
It seemed like as good an exit strategy as any; I couldn't swim.
I could drown.
I could totally die.
At least I wouldn't bleed this time.
A/N – Previews will be sent to all reviewers of this chapter because I lubs you!
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