"You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless
Like you've lost your fight
But you'll be alright, you'll be alright

Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend, till you break
Cause it's all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad you get strong
Wipe your hands shake it off
Then you Stand, Then you stand

Life's like a novel
With the end ripped out
The edge of a canyon
With only one way down
Take what you're given before its gone
Start holding on, keep holding on"

- Stand, by: Rascal Flatts

Hourglass:
Chapter 18

-Bella POV-

When I initially offered to go over and pack up Rosalie's belongings, it had been on impulse. I didn't stop to think about how hard it would be to return here, to see the scene of the crime and have to rifle through all of her things by myself.

Apparently, I'm not as brave as I thought.

I clench my eyes shut and take a deep breath, slowly letting it out before I grasp the cold metal handle and shove the front door open.

The room is dark and I jump as the door bangs into the wall from the force of my shove.

Calm down, Bella, it won't do any good to put holes in the wall. Try not to do anything to infuriate that stupid piece of shit any further.

My mind keeps playing those moments with Royce at the hospital on a rerun reel; it's like rewinding your favorite parts of your favorite film. Even though you know what the outcome is, you just can't help but watch it over and over again.

The only difference is, now I'm sitting with a lead weight in my gut. Worrying that I may have done far more harm than good.

Royce isn't the type of person to take a beating without retaliation. He also isn't the type to ever forgive and forget. Anything.

He fights dirty, and in one way or another, he always gets what he wants.

Deep inside of me, I know that he now wants to hurt me. It wouldn't be hard for him to do. He could go after Charlie, or come back for Rose. Any of those would hurt me far worse than him actually coming after me.

I wish it was that cut and dry. I'd take the physical pain of whatever he probably plans for me over reliving anything that has happened in the last 48 hours or so.

I flick the light switch on and begin straightening a few things in the main room. Rosalie has always been a typically clean person, so there isn't much to do besides fixing some wayward furniture and wiping down the countertops and table.

Rosalie has instructed me to only grab the important stuff and her necessities: clothes, jewelry from family, photos, that sort of stuff.

My hands tremble as I use the soapy washrag to scrub at the blood that has been left on the frame of the front door. Apparently the crime scene cleaning crew hadn't seen that spot.

I scrub at it with vigor, using all of my arm strength to erase the angry red-brown spot across the trim, wall, and door.

My imagination taunts me and my stomach rolls as I picture what she must have gone through that night. I can picture him gripping her beautiful golden hair and slamming her face down onto the counter — even though, from what we can tell, that didn't happen. There's no blood or chipping on the surface, but unfortunately, the mind can make you see things — horrible things, and it always plays out the worst case scenario.

I imagine him landing a forceful kick to her stomach as she lays sprawled beneath him on the floor, pleading for mercy.

I double over onto my knees, grasping my middle and fighting for air as I choke on angry sobs.

I imagine his hands around her throat, gripping relentlessly, robbing her of oxygen as she begs and pleads for him to stop. My own throat constricts painfully as I gag and gasp, fighting for air and trying to push the visions away.

"Oh Rose," I whimper as I lean back on my knees, still struggling to catch my breath and clear my mind.

A jolt of fear tears through me as the door begins to swing open and I fall onto my back. A silent scream is all I can muster before a tall figure sweeps in and is immediately bending down towards me.

"Bella?" The voice is vaguely familiar, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Emmett's face comes into view.

"Jesus, Emmett, you scared the fuck out of me," I growl as I lay there and let my heart dislodge itself from my throat.

"Sorry, Bella," he says earnestly, even looking a little sheepish.

"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" I ask as I get back on my feet.

"Edward and I didn't want you doing this all by yourself, and we figured you could use some boxes. After you left the hospital, he swung back to the house to pick me up and we grabbed some discarded boxes from the grocery store on our way over," he explains.

My emotions have officially run away with me. I find myself getting choked up over the fact that these guys, who are practically strangers to me, would go so far out of their way to help me. Couple that with the left over shakiness from a few minutes ago, and you basically have a blubbering Bella.

"Thank you, Emmett," I say softly. "It means the world that you guys would do that for us. Really."

"What are friends for?" His smile is bright and his eyes are warm, and I feel myself wanting to wrap him in a big hug. Instead, I reach out to squeeze his arm affectionately, but he pulls me into a hug anyway.

"As long as you promise not to beat me up again, I think we'll get along really well," he quips to lighten the mood.

I snicker and shake my head as I make my way into the kitchen. I set the wet rag on the counter and search the cupboards for any dishes that I know for sure Rosalie would want to come with her.

I find a couple of serving platters and candlestick holders that belonged to her great grandma Hale and an old mixing bowl that we've always used to make cookies and treats with growing up. I carefully wrap them with an old newspaper and place them into the boxes that Emmett brought up with him.

I hear Edward in the hallway and the sounds of cardboard banging around, so I quickly open the door and take a few of the boxes from his hands. He's completely loaded up with them, and it's a wonder he didn't fall down the steps, trying to lug all of those up in one trip.

"Be careful, please. I seriously don't want you to get hurt because you're helping me," I plead gently.

He gives me a crooked grin and plays off my worry, telling me that he's lifted a lot heavier and more awkward shaped things in the past.

For some reason, my mind jumps directly into the gutter and I can't help but laugh at him.

No giggles. Hysterical, ugly laughter.

He quirks an eyebrow up at me, and when my laughter causes me to snort, he joins in too.

I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment, and I turn quickly to lug the boxes back into the apartment.

"What's all the funny business going on out there?" Emmett asks as we enter the apartment, still chuckling.

"Bella was showing me her best impression of Porky the Pig," Edward replies without missing a beat.

"Hey now! Is that a fat joke?!" I demand, pretending to be offended.

"No! No absolutely not! I-I was referring to your snort! Of course you're not fat, you're, well, you're b-" Edward stammers and stutters, totally caught off guard until Emmett interrupts him.

"Edward! Man, slow down there, you're going to give yourself a brain fart."

Edward is the one blushing now as he scowls at Emmett playfully.

"I know what you meant. I was just messing with you," I chide as I make my way into the living room and start packing up pictures and photo albums.

Suddenly, I feel as though I'm being watched, and I turn to find Edward glaring at me and slowly stalking in my direction.

"You really shouldn't have said that," he teases as he makes his way toward me.

"Edward! Stop! Emmett, help!" I squeal as I take off in the opposite direction.

I belatedly realize I've just ran into the bedroom, and I stop dead in my tracks.

Edward comes up beside of me, but I don't see him, I can just feel that he's there. The only thing I see is an instant replay of that night. Finding Rosalie lying in a pool of her own blood, as she struggles to hold on to the world around her.

My vision blurs with tears and I hear Edward calling for Emmett as he wraps his arms around me, trying to walk me backwards out of the room.

"Stop, Edward. I have to finish packing her things," I plead as I push against his chest softly.

"It's too much, Bella. You can't be in here right now. It's too much for you," he says softly as he swipes away the tears that are now flowing down my cheeks.

"All of her stuff is in here, please," I beg and wrap my arms around him, seeking a moment of comfort.

"We'll do it. Shhh, Bella, breathe," he coaxes.

"N-No! You don't understand. Everything that means anything to her is in that room. I need to go in there," I say adamantly.

"Okay, well, how about this. Why don't we finish packing the rest of her things from the main rooms tonight, and then we'll do her bedroom and master bathroom tomorrow. We'll come back in the daytime, open up the windows and let some fresh air in. It'll be like a completely different place." His voice is soft and coaxing, and I know I can't disagree with him. It is too much for me right now.

"Okay, yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, I just…didn't think I'd have that kind of reaction. I've been struggling to rein in my emotions for the better part of the night. I guess it finally got the best of me." I nod and avoid eye contact as I explain.

"Bella, look at me," he says as he lifts my chin so I am staring directly at him. "Don't ever apologize for how you're feeling, or feel like you need to hide your emotions from us. We're not going to think less of you for being upset. Any rational person would be distraught right now. You almost lost someone very close to you. You don't have to be brave with us, Bella."

"He's right, Bella. And we're not helping you out of obligation or because we feel sorry for you. We're helping you because we want to be here, and because you seem like a really great person, who is going through a really shitty experience. Let us help you, and damn it, quit thanking us every time we lift a finger," Emmett scolds playfully and then softly nudges my shoulder.

I blink a few times to clear my vision and swallow past the lump in my throat. "Thank you, guys," I whisper softly.

Emmett growls playfully and softly tickles my side as he makes his way over to grab another box.

"I'm sorry. I know you're sick of me thanking you, but you'll never know how much all of this means to me. If there's anything good that I'm taking out of this entire situation, it's a few great new friends. I really appreciate everything you guys are doing," I tell them, flicking my eyes back and forth between them.

"What are friends for?" Emmett asks with a dimpled smile as he leaves the room with his arms full of boxes.

A/N: As promised, two updates in one week. Now have patience with the next update, we're having a slight beta situation - and I'm still a slacking h00r with a minor case of blockage. lol Don't worry, it's coming, slowly but surely. ;) :P

xxoo,

Missy