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.
EDWARD CULLEN.
"Dolcezza, come on," I said. "You cannot stay in here forever. It's been weeks now, please."
"I'm fine right here," she said.
She had been locked up in this room since our wedding and that was...Two weeks ago.
My mother had moved into the estate, even though I insisted her presence wasn't needed, but of course she didn't listen. She said she was here for Isabella and Isabella only. But even my mother couldn't coax her out of this room. She only spoke to us when needed, but even then she only answered with simple words. Yes and No, she seemed to favor those the most.
"Enough with this bullshit," I yelled, causing her to flinch and pull the covers around herself tighter.
"Fuck," I cursed, running my fingers through my hair, resisting the urge to pull it all out.
I sat on the edge of the bed beside her, and pulled the covers off of her face. She was shaking and I cursed myself even more for being the one she feared now.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, pushing the hair out of her face. "Please, bambolina. You are not a prisoner here. Please come out of this room, this isn't healthy."
She ignored me and turned on her other side, putting her back towards me. I have done everything I can, I don't know what else I can do? She refuses to let anyone in.
I sighed. I give up. I said I wanted to help fix this, fix her, I said I would, but I can't if she's not willing to give me a little help.
I almost made it out the door, when the sound of her soft muffled voice stopped me.
"You're wrong," she said.
"What am I wrong about, dolcezza?"
"I am a prisoner here."
"No you are not," I said, sitting back down on the bed beside her. "Please look at me."
"I don't want to look at you," she protested.
I climbed over her on the bed with my shoes still on, settling myself on the other side facing her. I trapped her face with my hand, holding her in place gently. I am not leaving this room without her today.
"Open your eyes," I said. I almost regretted my request when she looked at me with watery red eyes.
"You are not a prisoner here, do you understand me?"
"Yes I am," she said, truly believing her words. "Yes, I can leave this room. Maybe I might be allowed to go outside."
"Of course you are allowed to go outside."
"And do what? Walk around this house? Spin around in a circle over and over? I am a prisoner here, Edward. The only difference is that now, you are my husband and I am not your brother's toy," she said, attempting to turn her back to me. But I didn't let her move.
"It's a Saturday morning, fiorellina." I smiled at her. I may regret what I am about to offer, if she accepts. It is still in the early days and there is still a chance she may be recognized.
"What did you usually do on a Saturday morning?" I asked.
"What?" She frowned her brows. She gave me that guarded look she always had as if she was trying to figure out if I were joking or trying to trap her into something.
"Saturday morning. What did you usually do?" I asked again.
"Why do you care?"
"I want to know more about you. I want to know what makes you happy so I can do more of it," I said.
"I don't know what makes Marie happy," she said, trying to wriggle out of my arms.
"Fuck Marie. What makes you happy, Isabella?"
"Isabella is dead," she said in a cold tone that gripped me in a painful way. Her tone may have been cold, but the pain of her words rang out loud and clear.
"Come on, get up. Change your clothes, we are going out," I said, climbing off of the bed, ignoring the look she was giving me. When she made no move to get up off of the bed, I went into the wardrobe and picked out a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of converse sneakers. I grabbed a pair of socks, underwear and a bra.
I came back out and put them on the end of the bed.
"Go into the bathroom, go wash yourself up and get dressed," I said.
"Why?" She questioned.
"Now, dolcezza," I said, firmly. "Or I will pick you up and throw you in the bathroom myself."
She bit the inside of her cheek, staring between me and clothes on the bed. She debated for a few moments before she gave into my request. She picked the clothes up off of the bed and headed to the bathroom.
"Ten minutes, fiorellina, or I'm coming in there," I called out.
I debated with myself the entire time she was in the bathroom if this was a good idea or not. Of course it wasn't a good idea, it was terrible, stupid of me even. There is a big chance someone might recognize her face. I don't think she will ever know the extent of the search that was put out for her. Her face had been everywhere on the East Coast, it even reached the Canadian borders. But now, she was supposed to be dead. It had been over a month since the body had been found, and almost three weeks from the funeral. Her face hadn't been in the media since then. Flyers had been removed and the newspapers didn't print about it anymore. Of course, they would still look for her killer, but her case would be nothing more than an unsolved mystery.
~DINY~
"Where are we going?" She asked. It was only her and I alone in the car. I had given James the day off and my mother...well, there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop me from leaving with my own wife.
"We are going into town," I said, grabbing her hand and intertwining our fingers together. I brought our hands up to my mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers. I didn't let go of her hand after that.
She started laughing, it was a nice sound to hear from her after weeks of silence. But it was an odd laugh, there was no humor in it.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you torturing me?" She sighed, forcing her hand out of mine, she stared out the side window.
I chose to ignore her words. Of course she didn't believe me, she had every reason in the world not too. I focused my attention on the road. I would let her think whatever it was she wanted the think for now. I could not wait to see her face when we reached our destination.
Lake Placid was about an hour drive from the estate. It was a busy tourist area. At this time of year, the busy tourist season hadn't picked up yet so the town would not be overcrowded.
I parked the car across the road from the Big Mountain Deli & Creperie on Main Street. It was the only place I knew of here in town that made decent coffee and food.
Isabella hadn't made a single sound or move for that matter, she continued staring out the window. I think she was so far gone into her thoughts that she didn't even realize the car had come to a stop or where we were.
I opened her door and held my hand out towards her, hoping she would take it. She stared at my hand as if it were made of fire. She made no move to take it or to get out of the car.
I didn't think she would be this difficult. I thought she would be happy, but when I looked down at her, she was crying.
Cursing to myself, I kneeled down next to the open door.
"What's wrong, dolcezza?" I asked, wiping a stray tear away from her face.
"Why did you bring me here?" She asked.
"I thought you might like a day out," I said.
"This is very public, Edward," she stresses, looking out the front window onto the busy street.
"I want to show you that you are not a prisoner. That deli across the road, has the best food in town. I know you're hungry because you haven't had anything to eat since lunchtime yesterday," I said.
"Aren't you worried someone might see me? Aren't you worried I'll run or scream for help?"
"Will you?" I asked. I cocked my head to one side, trying to get a better look at her face, hoping I could get some understanding of what was going on in her head at this moment. "I'm trusting you here, fiorellina and I want you to be able to trust me. This is the only thing I can think of."
She eventually climbed out of the car after I gave her my sunglasses. She didn't look like the same girl whose face had been all over the media. She looked completely different from the first time I had seen her. She looked older than the nineteen years she was now, stressed, even tired.
I held onto her hand firmly as we crossed the street. We went into the Deli, we ordered our food. It was Isabella who had chosen our seats, in the back of the deli almost isolated from the other diners, yet close to the window and insight of the passers by outside.
"Stop fidgeting. Relax," I said. Her whole body was rigid, and she had torn apart the paper napkins on the table.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"What's going on through your mind right now?" I asked, covering her hands with my own, stopping her from destroying the napkins any further. She swallowed nervously, shaking her head.
"Tell me," I insisted. "No matter how bad it is, I want to know."
"I'm thinking...If...If I were to run right now with all these people around, would you stop me? Would you kill me?" She said quietly.
If she ran away from me now, I don't think I would have another choice but to kill her, but that thought alone made my stomach roll. The thought of her dead, it wasn't something I could think about without becoming physically sick. I felt a strong connection to her, a pull, something that made me want to protect her, cherish her even. As messed up as that sounds, and I wondered if this is what love feels like? Do I love her? I don't know.
"I told you, dolcezza, I am trusting you here. But if you were to do something stupid, I may not have a choice," I said.
"So you would kill me," she said, matter of factly.
"No," I admitted.
"You would hit me?"
"Of course not."
"Then?" She questioned.
"I don't know what I would do, fiorellina. I told you, I am trusting you here. I wanted to show you that you are not a prisoner. I want you to believe that."
"It's hard to believe, Edward. I was a missing person and now I'm a dead person. Yes, we are in public now, but look at me, I am sitting with my back to everyone in here and you are doing your best to hide my face," she said. Was I?
"Yes, you are. No matter what, Edward, I will always be a prisoner because I will never have my own freedom. I will never be able to go somewhere by myself. Christ, I won't ever be able to have my own phone, make my own friends or any of the other stuff you take for granted," she said.
"Dolcezza…" I squeezed her hands tightly. The pain in her voice and in her eyes broke me apart because she was right.
"Thank you for bringing me here, but it was a slap in the face. I would like to go now."
"You need to eat first," I said, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat.
"I am not hungry, Edward. Please, I don't want to be here."