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LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.
23.
Looking back, Edward wished he would have done things differently, but it was with a very double-edged feeling. A life might have been spared had he been less of a fucking flake and more of a man but, on the other hand, the events that took place that morning were the catalyst for saving himself.
And that, he could never regret.
It all started with yelling…yelling and someone pounding on the door as his muddled brain started to flutter back from its alcohol-induced stupor.
He was nearly naked, stripped from the waist down with the bed sheets thrown haphazardly around him as if they had been in a fight with whomever had occupied the bed.
He had no idea how they got that way.
Or why he was nearly naked.
In fact, he couldn't remember anything from the night before.
He didn't have time to ponder this strange state of being, or even put together the fact that he was cold and the open window on the other side of the room before the door crashed open with a deafening crack as police officers started spilling into the room, shouting things Edward was barely able to register as they started to pull him.
In a turn of events that happened quickly and confusingly, Edward had some pants thrown at him before his hands were cuffed and he was dragged out of the room; his turmoil and confusion mistaken for resistance as the small army of cops hurling him out of his hotel gave the gathered paparazzi the time of their life.
It was only when they started to push him into the back of a police car that Edward managed to catch sight of the horrific scene playing out only a few feet away from the sidewalk beneath his feet. An ambulance half on the street with its lights still flashing, a semicircle of people standing with horrified looks on their face…a blood-stained blanket covering what probably used to be a human being.
An ominous feeling started to take hold of him as his mind started to add the body on the sidewalk and his arrest together.
Bree.
Flashes of a woman—Bree—following him into his hotel room started to reappear in his mind. They'd been drinking together, that much he could remember. He talked about Bella and the impossibility of turning his life around while she confessed her inability to stay clean had led to the demise of her marriage and the death of her unborn daughter.
Then…nothing.
Groaning, he fell back against the seat as the police car crept agonizingly slow through the inner city traffic before stopping at a nearby police station. "It's Bree isn't it?" he asked as a sour looking police officer directed him into the building. "She's dead, isn't she?"
The cop didn't speak as he was focused on getting Edward into an interview room where a few men he faintly remembered being in his hotel room sat waiting for him.
What proceeded from that point were some of the most agonizing hours of his life. It was like being in the movie Groundhog Day. Instead of a fucking woodchuck, he had two ugly detectives sitting across from him, asking the same damn questions over and over again and an even uglier lawyer next to him trying to field as many of them as he could.
No, he didn't know what happened to Bree, though he was pretty damn sure she had ended up face down on the sidewalk.
No, he wasn't sure if they had sex the night before or whether or not it was consensual, though he was ashamed to say his nakedness and the general state of disarray the room had been in when he awoke spoke volumes at least where it came to sex.
Yes, he remembered Bree telling him her sad story and he clearly recalled her being pretty torn up about it but no, he didn't know if she was suicidal even if he was pretty sure she'd been high on a lot of fucking shit when she joined him in his room.
And finally: no fucking way did he believe he'd killed her.
He couldn't be sure, though.
As shitty as his memory of that night had become from the alcohol he'd consumed, there was very little Edward could share with the police beyond the part where he was pretty sure he'd blacked out. How his pants had managed to leave his fucking body or how Bree had ended up taking the scenic route to the ground floor, he didn't know.
He wasn't a killer, though. Even if his memory of the previous night was pretty much non-existent, Edward knew in his heart that he hadn't killed her. No matter what had happened, no matter how much he would have to hate himself for what he'd done, killing wasn't one of those things. He might have been cruel, though. He knew enough about himself to know that drinking had a tendency to sharpen his tongue and turn him into the most selfish prick known to man.
Which meant that he might not have pushed her but he sure as hell could have driven her over the edge.
It was hours later that they released him into the hands of an irate Aro Volturi. And that was only after forensic evidence had shown—much to his own shock and relief—that there was no evidence of forced or consensual sexual intercourse, or any form of foul play to be found on Bree Tanner's body.
She'd either jumped or fallen to her death while he had been sleeping only a few feet away.
The guilt that swallowed Edward when he heard that was enough to almost make him wish it had been him. The loneliness and despair Bree must have felt as she stood there in those French windows, gazing out over the cityscape as she'd taken one last jump before she plunged into the deep made him sick to his stomach.
He should have been there for her.
He should have stopped her.
He should have done something.
"You are lucky to be free, Edward," Aro scolded him as soon as they were in the back of his car. "Those cops were in such a rush to get a confession out of you that they forgot to establish the alcohol level in your blood, and by the time they remembered, your Blood Alcohol Level had dropped to just below a margin your lawyer could work with." Aro shook his head, peering out of the window with a pressed, unhappy look on his face that Edward knew all too well. "Being as it is, Liam has to move heaven and earth to get your parole officer to back off, though you are on your final warning. You're damn lucky they didn't find any drugs on you."
Edward sighed, leaning his forehead against the cool glass. A couple of months ago, he would have laughed at Aro's scolding and taken everything he'd just been told for granted. Hell, a couple of months ago, he pretty much had done just that.
At that moment, though, he could see just how much of a fuckup he truly was. Meeting Bella had been his one shot at turning his life around. For one sweet summer, he'd though it could be done. Edward believed he could make a better man out of himself but then, as he came to the realization that he could change himself but not the world he belonged to, he'd stepped away from that and had fallen back into the life he'd tried to wrestle away from.
He was a walking, talking self-fulfilling prophecy.
Well, congratu-fucking-lations to him.
"I've asked your sister if she would take you in, but it seems she and her husband are still too upset with you to offer you as much as a roof over your head," Aro meanwhile droned on in an accusing tone.
"I messed up." Edward shrugged, feeling that old annoyance bubble back up again. "You know I always do."
"Spare me the self-pity." Aro's voice was strict and bore no contradiction. "If you truly want to take pity on yourself, you'd do good to get the help you so obviously need."
"Then what about the album you've been nagging me about?" Edward huffed, the word 'rehab' so close he could almost feel it in the air. It was the last place he wanted to be, even though he had to admit he might be in need of it. Sarcastically he added, "I don't remember finishing it."
"Right now, your record company is taking steps towards dissolving their contract with you. If I were you, I wouldn't fight them. We're lucky enough as it is if we get out of this with the rights to those songs still in your possession and without having to refund the money they've invested in the incomplete record." A stern look stopped Edward from remonstrating as his manager added, "I told you this would happen if you didn't manage to stay on the right track and out of the media. They are sick of it…as am I."
"Are you dropping me as well, then?" Panic started to rise at the thought of not being able to make music anymore. It was all he had left and he knew that if word got out of both Aro and his record company cutting ties with him, he'd be done for. Aro had always been the man he loved to hate but as far as people in his life went, his greedy manager had been there for as long as he could remember. There was a bond between them, even if it consisted of barely more than the mutual gain they stood to get out of it.
"No." Edward breathed a little easier at Aro's quick denial. "As much as I would like to, I know those new songs of yours have a potential that is quite…unique."
As Aro looked at his client, he wished he could cut his ties with him. Taking care of this volatile young man had become too much for him. He didn't enjoy it and it had the potential of becoming a risk to his so far blemish-free career. Those songs though…the potential gain was worth the risk. "No," he continued, thinking aloud, "I believe this move offers us a new opportunity. I know you have long grown tired of your band and the influence they have on both your music and yourself. If we were to take you away from that toxic environment and…say, strip your songs to the barest, purest form in which they can be played, we will have gold on our hands." He breathed out, the prospect of making perverse amounts of money off this young man, as well as prove both the media and the record company executives wrong, made him feel almost giddy. "This is all provided you get clean and healthy again, though. You will be reborn like a phoenix from the ashes and then, and only then, will we start getting those songs out there."
Edward swallowed, not quite knowing what to think. It was clear that Aro had given the matter some thought, so much so that Edward was starting to assume this plan had been in the pipeline for quite some time. "I don't…I don't know, Aro. Fire the band?" As much as he'd grown to hate both James and Victoria, they had all been together from the start and their influence on his work had been big.
"This is your only option, Edward," Aro pressed as the car rolled to a stop in front of a gate that seemed to appear out of nothing, right in the middle of nowhere. Edward knew what lay beyond those gates and the realization of it made him groan. "Either you go through that gate and turn a new page or throw yourself into the fire with James and Victoria…if they'll even want you now that you're without a record company."
Edward sighed, knowing that wasn't much of an option. He wanted to make music; all his life that had been the only thing his heart beat for. If that mean he had to take a U-turn on his own life, then so be it.
Even if that involved rehab.
Thoughts?