A/N - This chapter is brought to you by the letter A and the beta skills of mac and Jkane180. I couldn't have done this story without you guys. This is the final chapter of Tomato. There will be an epilogue.
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What the ever-loving fuck?
He thought he was the Swan to my Leda. The truth was more sinister. I was Philomela, still weaving my tapestry - the burden of proof. No, I wasn't Penelope, unravelling the secrets by night to stay faithful to Odysseus.
I was the nightingale that could no longer sing, words cut from my mouth.
Except not really because I totally had a cell phone. I swallowed my nerves and dialed Phil's number, finally completely certain about what I wanted - needed - to feel better. I didn't give a fuck if every impulse and terror I'd ever repressed floated to the surface like a decomposing body in a lake. This cancer would be cut from my psyche now and forever. Whatever the fuck it took.
All of my skeletons were ready to claw their way to the surface.
"Hello . . . Bella?" the voice of my nightmares asked meekly.
"I . . . yeah."
"I've been . . ."
Yeah, what? You've been what? "So, yeah . . ." I swallowed the dry lump in my throat, feeling less brash than I had only moments ago.
"You're calling me. I thought that wasn't allowed."
"Probably not," I agreed, scratching my nail over a tiny scab on my knee.
"Fuck, Isabella. I mean . . . fuck! The police were all up in my shit. Why did you tell them about us?" He barked out a laugh. "I know you're mad at your mother . . . but . . . haven't I been good to you? Giving you all that shit you asked for. The computer and the money? I thought things were okay between us."
I made a horking sound in the back of my throat that was meant to be a snort of disgust. "I don't even . . . " My throat burned and tightened, the sound of my pulse whooshing in my ears. "You made me do things I didn't want to do. Horrible, awful things . . . how is that okay?"
"Come on now. I know you weren't always completely into it - us - but I never forced you to-"
"The fuck you didn't!" I screamed.
"Bella?" Charlie yelled, pounding on the door until it shuddered on the frame. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. I'm just fighting with Edward," I lied.
"Is everything okay? If that boy's upsetting you-"
"He's not." I forced the warble out of my voice and took a deep breath. "Is the lawyer still here, Dad?" I asked pointedly, my words burning like venom on my tongue.
"I sent her home . . . get off the phone, Bells. Get some rest."
I listened as his footfalls descended the stairs, tapering off into a faint echo. "You still there?" I hissed into the receiver.
"Lawyer? Isabella . . . once this gets out to the papers my career will be over. Whether or not it's true, people will assume the worst."
People always did assume the worst.
"Here's the thing," I said carefully, closing iTunes on my laptop. "I want this in the papers probably less than you do. And I really don't want a trial."
"Yeah?" Phil breathed, the relief in his voice oozing out of my phone. "What're you gonna do?"
"Oh, I'm not doing anything. You're going to confess to statutory - which I won't contest. You'll get a slap on the wrist . . . maybe a little jail time and-"
"The fuck I am," he raged. "Do you know what'll happen to me if I do that? It might amuse you to play with my life like this, but if I plead guilty, I'll have to register as a sex offender, Bella. My career - my life - will be over."
A dull rage nipped at my gut, but I quelled it, taking a deep breath. "I'm not amused. Do I sound amused?" Despite my display of sarcastic bravado, my nerves fizzled like fried onions. Water stung my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks in hot rivulets. I burned.
"Why are you doing this to me?" His voice took on a plaintive tone. I remembered asking him the same question myself. The shift in power was palpable.
Because now it's my turn to fuck you up the ass.
"Because I'm tired of hating myself for stuff that was done to me." I pulled the flash stick out of my laptop and closed my palm around it. "How long were you videotaping us?"
"Huh?"
"The video files you so thoughtfully left on my laptop before shipping it to me. Why did you do that?"
"Isabella . . . I love you, baby. I . . ."
"You what, asshole?" I choked, my stomach spewing hot lava into my chest cavity.
"I wanted you to remember me - us. It wasn't always bad, was it? Didn't you love me a little?"
"No," I said easily. "I honestly don't. I want to be clear about it because I don't want you to think I'm letting you off the hook out of kindness. I'm doing it for myself, not you."
"What do you mean?" He sounded defeated.
"Blackmail."
"Huh? You want money. Jesus, babe, I'll give you more money. Anything you want!"
"No. I don't want your money anymore, Phil. You stole four years from me, so the only thing you have to barter with is time. I'll take it in trade."
"So you're blackmailing me . . . for time?"
"Yeah. You're going to confess to statutory - to having a consensual sexual relationship with me from the time I was fourteen to now." The word "consensual" felt like sulphur on my tongue. Like brimstone - heavy and blasphemous. "You'll tell the cops we had relations of a sexual nature continuously for four years while I was underage. You'll do this," I insisted, my palm hot and clammy around the file that could condemn him, "or I'll share these videos with the DA."
Phil stopped breathing. Well, no, but his pause was totally pregnant. While waiting for him to speak, I fell back into my bed and thought of Edward. He had this light patch of freckles on the bridge of his nose I wanted to kiss. I bet he'd let me kiss any part of him I wanted.
"Do you hate me and your mother that much, Isabella? You know this will destroy her."
"I don't care."
"I can't-"
"You have two days," I told him, because it felt apt to attach a ticking bomb element to my offer. "If you don't confess by Thursday, I'm emailing a file to the Maricopa County police."
"Wait, don't!"
No . . . please, don't!
I cut the line. He never listened to me when I begged either.
-({})-
After the confrontation with Phil, time - which always inched by at a snail's pace for me - flew like a hummingbird on amphetamines. First of all, the asshole conceded, sending me a coward's text that he'd confess to statutory. Like he was doing me a favour.
Like I left him any choice.
Charlie wasn't pleased that I corroborated his story. He knew I was totally lying, that I just didn't want to deal with the shit storm that would follow. In the end, it would always be my word against his, and I didn't have the grace or eloquence to appeal to a jury . . . or even the proper persona of a victim for that matter. I mean, I watched enough TV to know that rape victims didn't typically go around making light of what happened to them. They weren't brash or slutty or needlessly crude.
Dr. Banner insisted there's no wrong way to be an abuse survivor. I wasn't sure if I agreed, but I repeated it to myself in the mirror every morning like a Stuart Smiley mantra.
I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darnit, my mother's husband raped me.
In the days following, I spent a lot of time by myself, skipping school and not answering my texts or tweets or emails or pokes or Facebook comments. When my cell phone actually rang rather than pinged, I stared at it for several minutes before remembering what to do.
"Yeah?"
"Bella!" Edward sounded shocked to hear my voice. "Come back to school, baby. I miss you so fucking much."
"Who is this?" I drawled.
"Nice."
"I miss you too. I don't miss Forks High, though. Can't you just come over and fuck me instead?"
"I thought we were taking things slow?" He exhaled a long breath.
"Are you high?"
"That's what you said! C'mon, pretty girl, I'm getting mixed signals here," he complained, his voice cracking into a whine.
"No, are you high? Like, are you smoking weed?"
"Oh . . . yeah. Do you mind?"
"Only that you're not sharing," I grumbled, sniffing my arm pit to discern the rank factor. "I've been wallowing in my own shit for a few days now. I could use an herbal remedy."
A female voice giggled in the background.
"You're not alone." It was an accusation of sorts.
"It's just Rosalie!" Edward supplied before I could freak out.
"Isn't that cozy? So you're hanging out with Rose instead of me. Nice. You know she won't even speak to me, right?"
"What are you talking about? She's been emailing you non-stop for the last three days about her and Emmett. What the fuck is going on with you?" He exhaled almost violently.
"Fuck you," I said half-heartedly.
"I love you. I miss you . . . let me sniff your hair."
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to sniff Rosalie's crotch hair, but then I thought better of it. I trusted him, and my three-day exile was self imposed.
Yeah, I was acting like an emo twat - the worst kind of pussy.
"Come over, please. I need you," I told him, biting my lip in agitation. I sounded pathetic.
"I've been waiting for you to tell me that." He breathed out a languid breath, and while it was probably infused with smoke, it sounded like relief.
-({})-
Charlie passed me a beer while I sat with him in the kitchen waiting for Edward.
"Really, Dad?" I mean, not to kick a gift horse in the balls or anything. I tipped the long neck of the bottle into my mouth.
"Are you questioning my parenting skills?" His eyebrows quirked in a way that was almost comical.
"Of course not. All the best fathers feed their kids beer."
"Meh, you've been through enough bullshit. If you want to drink beer, I won't stop you."
"I love you, Daddy," I said like a valley girl.
Charlie nodded and stood, adjusting his holster, his heavy boots making the old wood floor scream out in protest under their weight. "I'm going to work. Will you be okay alone tonight?"
"Edward's coming over for a bit; I'll be fine."
He nodded. "No hanky panky while I'm away."
"Of course not," I promised, giving the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."
"We will talk about this again," he offered by way of non-sequitur.
"Star Trek?"
"Bella," he kind of growled, shrugging his uniform jacket over his shoulders, "the lawsuit. Look, I know you're not willing to testify, but since he's already confessed, Siobhan thinks she can get him to settle."
"I don't want his money." I took a long pull of my beer to keep from lashing out at my father.
"It'll pay for school."
"I'd rather not go."
Charlie opened his mouth to argue, but I was saved by the knock on the door. "Is that lover boy?"
"I call him Sex-hair . . . but yes."
He opened the door and asked, "Why does my daughter call you Sex-hair?"
Edward's mouth gaped, his jaw slacked, and his eyes widened as Charlie grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He looked like a fish, dying on a hook.
"It's because I like to pull his hair while we're having sex - no, I'm totally kidding. Please don't shoot him, Dad." I cackled.
"Don't make me get the gardening shears." The growl that accompanied his threat made me realize he might not have been joking.
"Jesus fuck," Edward swore; he was probably still high.
"I don't really call him that, Dad. His hair is really messy is all. I swear, he's never done anything to hurt me." I smiled wickedly, tugging Charlie away from my boyfriend. "There's more chance of me raping him than him raping me."
"Bella!" they both snapped, staring at me with matching angry glares, their hands on their hips.
Edward resembled a Bazzaro World, ginger version of my father.
"Huh . . . okay, things just got a little weird."
-({})-
"I'm not like your father!" Edward protested for the fifth time.
"It's sweet." I shrugged, leaning back against his chest. We were watching True Blood, and I think he was totally jealous about my crush on vampire Eric. "And that Viking is so fucking hot!" I mock-swooned and rubbed my nipples over my shirt.
"Stop it!" He covered my eyes with his hand, and I giggled. "What was your dad bugging you about when I arrived?"
"Nothing. Want a blow job?"
"Yes. And don't change the subject."
"Well, I can't very well talk while my mouth's full . . . it wouldn't be polite."
"So talk first," he insisted, grabbing my hand before I could palm his dick.
"He wants me to sue Phil," I told him, crawling down his body. Even with one of my hands restrained, I was pretty sure I could undo his fly with my teeth. My skills were mad and shit.
"I really think you should. I don't understand why you're letting him get away with just a statutory charge." He grabbed my hair and tugged lightly, forcing me to look at him. "You do realize I fully intend to kill him one day."
I sighed and nuzzled my face back into his crotch. "He's not worth you going to jail for. And I have no interest in his money."
"What do you mean? Your father wants you to sue him for money?"
"Yep. A civic suit."
"Fuck that," Edward spat, surprising me so much I lifted my head away from my favourite apex in the universe.
"Guh?"
"You can't take money from him . . . that would be like him buying his redemption from you or something. It's sick."
"Yes!" I agreed, grateful someone finally understood my point of view. "It's like, even if he gave me a shit ton of money, anything I used it for would be tainted." Oh, shit . . . I should probably get rid of my computer since he paid for it. Damn.
"You don't need his money."
"Well, I do - we're kinda poor. But I'm not going to take it."
"Come here," he whispered, his voice becoming rough. And then before I could move, he tugged at my arms, lifting me over his body until we were eye-level, my hair falling around his face. "I'm so fucking proud of you."
"Really?" What an odd thing to say. Oh! Those nose freckle things I loved so much were in licking distance. I stuck out my tongue to capture one, but his mouth absorbed me before I could do anything.
And then we were both moaning and kissing and clawing at each other. His hand slipped inside the back of my pants, squeezing my ass as I pushed my pussy against his erection.
"We shouldn't," I said, tugging my shirt over my head while he undid my jeans. "It's bad for your recovery."
"Fuck my recovery. "
"Okay," I agreed, lowering his briefs and jerking his dick, all hot and smooth, in my hand. "Can I suck it?"
"Yeah, but do it with your pussy."
I perched above his towering erection, remembering the trip my family took to the Washington Monument when I was a kid. Charlie and Renee were still together, and I didn't know what it was like to be depressed or scared or violated or alone.
Edward's cock was like a monument to my lost childhood. That was disgusting and wrong and kind of perfect.
"Your cock is my happy place." I smiled, easing him inside of me. He held my hips softly, stilling me when he was fully seated.
"You're my happy place, Bella."
I groaned and lifted off of him only to grind back down harder.
"How do you feel?" Even hooded in lust, his eyes were so compassionate.
"Open and happy and loved," I moaned.
"You are, pretty girl. So loved."
Was it weird that I could enjoy this? That I could fuck my boyfriend without guilt or shame or fear? Dr. Banner's voice echoed in my head: There's no wrong way to be a rape survivor.
Because there really wasn't. I couldn't tie years of abuse into a neat bow, find closure, and heal perfectly.
Deep cuts produce scars. But scars didn't define me.
And sure, Edward and I probably shouldn't be together. We should probably give each other space and time to become fully formed, healthy adults. But as my orgasm hit me, my cunt shuddering around his awesome dick, the epiphany I'd been searching for finally washed over me, the high water-mark, the place where the waves rolled back and receded tore through me.
I never gave a fuck about doing things the right way, and I was a teenage girl in love with a boy who loved her too.
We could love each other, because love is a choice you make. And I chose Edward.
The rest would get better with time.
A/N - I'm a little emotional right now and I have too many people to thank to do it properly. I'll post a proper note on the epi. Thank you so much - all of you wonderful people who took the time to review or tweet or message me about Tomato. I'm not always perfect at responding, not because I'm a bitch but because I'm a flake with too much stuff on my plate.
There's no wrong way to be a rape survivor.
Flanny xoxo
PS - I'm writing a blow job outtake for a belated B-day present to Magnolia. I'll send a copy of it to everyone who reviews the last chapter. Give me another week to write it.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzz!