Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Edited by Sjdavis84 and StillDreaming85.
WARNING: This story contains mature themes and is intended for mature readers.
ISABELLA SWAN
For weeks I had been left alone in this room. They locked me in here, and deadbolted the doors and windows in the bedroom and bathroom. James didn't stay with me any longer than was necessary. He would only make sure I ate and then he would leave, locking me in this room and leaving me all alone.
There was nothing in here, nothing to do, no TV, not even a book or a magazine. I didn't know what was worse, being left alone, or being left alone and having too much time to think?
I sat by the window looking out. It was light outside, which meant it was daytime, although I had no idea what day or even what month it was. There was ice on the branches of the trees and ice on the ground. It looked ridiculously cold, and I would give anything right now to be able to go outside or even open a window and have that cold air hit my face.
It's amazing the things we take for granted. I was never a fan of the winter months, but right now I would give anything to be able to feel it.
I thought of my mom and dad. I didn't want to focus on the negative, I didn't want to focus on the pain they must be in, especially mom.
Mom was such a sensitive person, she always took things to heart, she always cried for others.
What must they be going through?
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. I let the tears fall, it was effortless now because the only thing I could do here was cry, weep for everything and everyone that has been taken away from me.
My parents.
My family, friends.
My life, my dancing. I had worked so hard for that scholarship and for what? What was the point now?
Now, I didn't know if I would be alive tomorrow. I didn't know when Anthony, or Edward, possibly even James, would come in here and end me.
I heard the click of the door as someone unlocked it. I heard footsteps approach me, but I didn't look up, I didn't open my eyes.
He grabbed a hold of my good hand and pulled me up to my feet.
I opened my eyes, James wrapped his arms around me. I rested my head on his chest and held onto him as tight as I could. He held me with the same strength and let me cry into his chest. I made his shirt a wet mess, but it didn't seem to bother him. He let me cry, he let me get it all out.
James didn't say a word, he didn't need to. The silence was more than enough for me.
When my tears were all dried up, when I had nothing left, I let go of him and stepped out of his arms.
"Better?" He asked, with genuine kindness.
"Not really," I sighed and sat back down in my spot by the window.
"Is it cold outside?" I asked.
"It's freezing," he said.
"How long have I been...missing?"
"Seven weeks," he answered without any hesitation. Seven weeks, almost two months. I had missed my birthday, I had missed my performance. Seven weeks….
"Why am I still alive?" If that wasn't the million dollar question, then I don't know what was.
"What do you mean?" James asked, sitting down opposite me on the bay window.
"Why am I here? Yeah, I know I don't get an exact reason," I stressed. "But people who kidnap other people usually want something with them, they want to get back at them or hurt them, not lock them up in fancy houses and forget about them."
Not that any of this was easy. Not that Anthony hadn't kept me locked up in that filthy basement and abused me. But this, right here, right now, it made no sense to me.
"You're injured," James said. "And you're confusing me right now, sweetheart. Do you want someone to hurt you?"
"No, God no!" I almost wanted to shout. The thought of Anthony coming back here only to hurt me, made me physically sick. But the sick part in all of this, the really twisted part, I realized that Anthony seemed to enjoy my pain. Yet when he held me that one time, when he was gentle, it was like it wasn't him, as if he had another personality hidden away.
His brother though, his twin, he appeared more calm, gentle. Even when Edward spoke, although he was authoritative, he was gentle.
Edward and Anthony looked to be identical twins, but there was one difference between them. Edward had a small mole, a birthmark on the top of his left eye, whereas Anthony didn't.
"Remember what I told you?" James asked.
"About?"
"About doing what he says. About not making him angry. If you would have listened to me, that would have never happened," he said, motioning to my bandaged wrist. It's been a few weeks since I've had the cast on. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it is uncomfortable and I couldn't wait to have it off.
"What did you think I should have done, James?" I asked, my own anger building up.
"Did you expect me to stand there and let him touch me in that way, willingly?"
"He would not have done anything to you," he defended.
"Really? Are you sure? Because I'm not."
"Look, Isabella, you have to trust me on this, okay," he said.
James seemed like a good guy. It was clear that James didn't agree with what Anthony and his brother were doing with me, but at the same time, James couldn't do anything about it either because he worked for Anthony, or for his brother, or both.
I could understand that. From the impression I got from James and Jasper, the one who took me away, they were afraid of the brothers. When Anthony or his brother walked into a room, or when James knew thet one was coming, his whole body would change, he would straighten up like a soldier waiting for his next order.
I figured that Anthony and his brother were something else. Something dangerous, but I still had no real clue as to who they really were.
"Can I ask you a question, James?"
"Depends on what the question is," he said, trying to keep his tone light. He knew all the typical questions I would ask him, but I had given up on ever getting an answer for those.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You seem like a nice person, James. How did you get involved with someone like...like him, like them?"
My question must have not been what he expected, he looked a little taken back by it. He was quiet for what seemed like a very long time. It was with a deep sigh, James stood up and turned to face the window, staring aimlessly outside.
"I'm sorry," I said. His choices were his own, and his reason for working for Anthony must be more personal than what I thought. "I didn't mean to pry."
"Ten years ago, my sister went missing. She was only fifteen," he said.
I didn't know what to say. I was afraid to speak now, I was afraid he would stop talking. James seemed to be in his own bubble, away in another place as he continued to stare out the window, I don't think I saw him blink once.
"Our parents died when Irina was only thirteen. I was twenty at the time and I got custody of her.
She started acting out, rebelling, hanging around the wrong people at school. After a while, she stopped going to school altogether, I found out she was doing drugs." He sighed. His shoulders slumping, he turned back around and sat back down looking at me. He was so sad, so lost as he spoke of his sister. James was big guy, so to see him this vulnerable, I didn't know what to do, what to feel.
"I think it was her way of dealing with the pain.
When she disappeared, I did all the right things. I filed a police report, I put her poster up everywhere, I even offered a reward for any information. But it was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth. The police weren't any help, I don't think they ever bothered to look for her. In their eyes, she was only another teen runaway, another addict wanting to escape her life. But I knew better. Yeah, Irina was in a bad place, she was messed up, but she would always come home every night."
I sat as quiet as I could, I didn't move even though I wanted to reach out and hold him, and offer him any sort of comfort that I could.
"I knew something was off. I knew she wasn't a runaway, but nobody would listen to me. That's when I started looking for her myself," he said.
"Is that how you met Anthony?" I asked. As horrible as it sounds, I was happy that James was speaking to me, it made me feel as if I was a normal person again, instead of a prisoner.
"It wasn't Anthony I met, it was Edward."
"Did Edward take your sister?" I blurted out. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, but then again, I wasn't sure if I could continue not knowing.
"No, Edward didn't take her. They are connected to a ring, though. Edward thought my sister could be in there, but he didn't make me any promises."
"What did Edward do?" I asked.
"He made me one of his soldiers, he gave me a job in his crew. It was simple, my job was to transport the girls from one location to another or take a specific one to a buyer," he said.
My sharp intake of air filled the room as he spoke the words. I started putting the pieces together. I've heard stories, I've seen movies about human trafficking. It all made some sense to me now, this is why I was here, this is why Anthony took me. His words, 'she's worth a lot.' He was planning on selling me?
I was aware of my body violently shaking. Even though I tried to control myself, it was nearly impossible. An odd feeling overtook me, I felt as if I couldn't breathe, as if I was suffocating.
"Isabella...Isabella," I heard James's frantic voice. I was aware, I could hear him loud and clear. I felt he had a firm grip on my shoulders, but I didn't know if he was shaking me or trying to keep me still?
"Jasper," James yelled out, as loud as he could. "Jasper," he called out again.
"Listen to me, Isabella," he said, holding me firmly. "Take a deep breath, come on do it with me, breath in, breath out. Look at me."
I tried, I tried so desperately to follow his voice, to hold onto it and not slip away, but I couldn't. I felt myself slip away into the darkness, the madness or whatever this was that was happening to me right now.
"Here," a new voice said.
I closed my eyes and felt something cold pressed against my forehead and on the nape of my neck.
"That's it, breath in, breath out."
"Put your head down between your knees," Jasper said, pushing my back forward.
"That's it," James said, as my erratic breathing slowly evened out. My body stopped shaking, but I still felt on edge.
"Christ, you okay?" Jasper asked. I nodded, I didn't trust my voice right now.
"Has that ever happen before?" But this time he wasn't speaking to me.
"No," James said.
Right now I didn't care that they were talking about me as if I weren't here. No, their voices were drowned out and a new sound filled my ears, it was a sound that neither James nor Jasper seemed to notice.
Footsteps echoed from down the hall, footsteps coming this way.
That feeling arose in me once more and my hands started to shake. I knew who it was, who was coming up here and I couldn't take it, not anymore, not after what James had told me about his sister.
"What the hell is going on here?" His dominating voice filled the room. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"She's having a panic attack," James said, and just like that I felt myself slip into the darkness. I could hear the voices around me, but I couldn't make out a single word they were saying.
The place I slipped into, it was cruel, my mind wouldn't allow me to hear them, but I could feel him, feel his hands on me as he pulled me up and dragged me along like a ragdoll.
This was it, this would be the end, he would finally do it. I just hoped that he would make it quick.
He pushed me out into the cold. The crisp air hit me and filled my lungs. It was a shock to my system and I snapped back to the reality around me. I started shaking, not from fear or panic, but from the cold. I didn't have any shoes or socks on, my toes froze instantly on the ice covered porch.
I had been wrong, it wasn't Anthony that had come, it was Edward. He stood in front of me, holding my cold face in between his warm hands.
"Take a deep breath," he said. I followed his order, afraid not to. "Better?" He asked, with concern laced in his voice and evident in his features.
"I'm cold," I managed to mumble out.
"Let's get you back inside."