I'd never realised until now just how over the top my bedroom is.
Firstly, it's far too large. Obscenely so. A gigantic carpeted room with a platform that houses my gigantic, pillow-covered bed. Double doors that open to a closet on one side, another door that opens to my bathroom, and a third set of doors that open onto a balcony. Sunlight streams into the room, bathing it all in a golden glow.
Ridiculous.
I reluctantly move into the cavernous space, trying not to look as freaked out as I feel. I know Charlie is waiting behind me, judging my every move. I know this place, it is my home. At least, that's how I should feel.
I miss my mattress.
I eventually walk over to an armchair in the corner and sit down, drawing my legs up to my chest. Charlie stands a cautious distance away, not sure how close he should get. He places my bag from the hospital on the bed, and then pulls some things from his pockets. I watch curiously from my perch.
"Bella, honey, I replaced everything that you had with you… that day. There are keys - I had all the locks changed, an iPod, and a new cell phone for you."
The men were holding my phone in front of me as it rang.
"Oh, you're certainly popular," one of them taunted. His skin was a dark brown, but he spoke with what sounded like a French accent. Odd. The other one, shorter with an olive complexion and a messy blonde ponytail, snatched the phone from his accomplice.
"Laurent, lookee here. Daddy's calling!"
They crowed with laughter.
"Please let me speak to him!" I pleaded, hoping that they had some modicum of pity in them.
"Alright," the blonde said casually. He slid open my phone and held it up to my ear. My hands were bound, I couldn't hold it myself.
"Bella?" my father cried into the phone. I burst into tears.
"Daddy?" I whimpered. The blonde man chuckled.
"Are you hurt?" he asked and I cried harder."I'm going to find you, baby. I promise I will. You're going to be-"
The blonde yanked the phone away from me. He tossed it on the floor then crushed it with several sharp blows from his shoe.
"Oops," he said with wide, innocent eyes. The French man guffawed. They both looked at me expectantly, awaiting some response. I closed my eyes. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
I shudder at the thought of them, but Charlie continues as if he hasn't noticed. "Alice replaced all the numbers and such, and I got this from Esme Cullen. Such a nice lady." He places a piece of paper on my bed and lays the phone on top of it. He walks back over to the door, and then turns back to face me.
"I'll let you… get settled here. Call me if you need anything."
He looks at me, anticipation in his eyes. I'm not sure what he wants from me so I nod, letting him know that I acknowledge his words. He smiles weakly and then leaves the room.
I stay in my spot for a few moments and listen to him descending the stairs. Carefully, I get up and move towards the bed. I pick up the piece of paper, letting the phone slide off it and onto the comforter. The piece of paper is covered in words and numbers, in what I assume to be Esme's handwriting. It's lovely and delicate, and suits her perfectly.
Dear Bella, it reads. I thought you might want these. Listed below are two numbers: the Cullens' home phone, and Edward's mobile number. I laugh quietly at the idea of needing to call Edward to speak to him. I place the items on my bedside table and return to the chair.
Time seems to be progressing at a strangely speedy rate now that I'm free. Before I know it, the sun is setting. It's still warm though. It is springtime in Miami after all. On a day like this I'd usually be lying by the pool with Alice or Jessica, but instead, I've spent the entire day curled up in a chair.
I spent so much time fantasising about freedom, but now that I have it, it's kind of suffocating. I have to make my own decisions now, and I simply don't know how to do that. It's embarrassing, and more than a little irrational, but I don't know what I'm doing at all.
I look over at my bed and decide that 8pm is a perfectly respectable time for sleep. I shuck my shorts and shoes, then climb into the gargantuan bed. It feels wrong. I pick up a pillow and toss it gently to the ground, then another, until I'm violently hurling all of them across the room. They're fucking pointless, not comfortable at all. Purely aesthetic, covered in beads and other stupid crap.
I hate them.
I yank the sheets off the bed, and they join the pile. They're too soft, they feel wrong on my skin. I smile faintly when I see that the mattress exposed to me. It looks unbearably appealing. I flop down onto it, only to find myself disappointed. It's not the same, not even close.
This makes me burst into tears. Not quiet, delicate tears, though. Loud, wracking sobs burst out of me, and I feel like I can't breathe. I'm wailing like an infant, and my body seizes up with the strain of my outburst.
Charlie rushes into the room, panting slightly. I try to tone down the screaming and crying, but fail resolutely.
"Bella, what's - oh, my god!" he cries and runs across the room. The closer he gets, the louder I get. I don't want him near me when I'm like this.
"I'm sorry!" he cries, and backs off. "What can I do?"
There's only one thing I can think of.
"Edward," I gasp, just once. Charlie's mouth falls open. Moments later, I hear him speaking quietly with someone, although I cannot make out the words. I try to calm myself, but it's impossible.
I just can't understand what's going on, and it terrifies me in a way I can't control or rationalise.
My screams get quieter as my voice weakens, but I can't seem to stop them completely. I'm panting, my body has curved in on itself, and I'm in the corner of my bed, my back against the ridiculous headboard. Being in this position does nothing to make me feel safer though, because this room is too big and I'm on my own.
A moment passes, or maybe an eternity… I have no clue.
"Bella!"
My eyes snap open and my screams cease at once although the tears persist. Standing in my doorway, looking concerned by not at all confused, is Edward. I leap from the bed and he crosses the room in several large strides. I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. He staggers back, and I remember his weak knee. I try to pull away, but his arms hold me in place and his head drops to my shoulder.
"What are you doing, silly girl?" he asks softly.
"I don't know," I sob, trying to get a grip on the overwhelming relief I feel. If he's here, and I'm here, we'll protect each other. We're ok.
He leads us over to the bed, or what's left of it, and laughs quietly when he realises what I've done.
"That's a good idea. I couldn't get comfortable in my bed either."
I smile at him, because he understands. We settle ourselves on the mattress. It's bigger than our one, but it will do. We lie facing each other, not speaking. Just looking, taking comfort in each other, as we always did before.
"This sounds stupid, and I know it's only been a few hours, but I really fucking missed you."
"I know," I tell him. "Me too."
He sighs and reaches for my hand. I give it willingly and we sleep.
I wake up the next morning to see Edward by my side. I smile. This is normal. This is good. I pull myself up, feeling none of the soreness I had gotten used to while sleeping on our old mattress.
I miss it.
I go to the bathroom to clean myself up a bit. My eyes are puffy from my tantrum the night before, but there's nothing I can do about that. I wander downstairs, feeling strange and vulnerable in this oversized house. I know the way well, but I travel cautiously regardless.
I hear voices coming from the kitchen and pause by doorway to listen. I don't know who's in there, and I'm not about to waltz in.
"I'm not sure what to do," my father says, his voice morose and a little desperate. "I've never seen her like that, and there was nothing I could do to help her."
"Edward was out of sorts as well," I hear another voice, Esme this time. "He sat at his piano, not touching it, for hours. He jumped a foot in the air when I walked into the room, and he's barely spoken a word to anyone but Bella."
"I think," Carlisle speaks up, "that they've become dependent on each other during their abduction. They see one another as something of a saviour, and feel the need to protect one another. Even though their captors are gone, the desire remains." I grimace at his casual reference to our time away.
"What do we do?" Charlie asks. There's an extended period of silence.
"I'm not sure," Carlisle says. "It may wear off with time, when they become reaccustomed to real life. But for now, until we can get them into some kind of therapy, we don't have a whole lot of options."
More silence.
I take the opportunity to enter the room then. I loudly push the door open, and Esme flinches with surprise. They look guilty, even though they don't know I could hear them. I smile a little and go over to the fridge. I open it slowly, unsure as how to proceed. The fridge is packed, full of things I know I used to enjoy. What happens now?
"Bella?" Esme asks, and I jump slightly. She's right behind me. How long have I been standing here, looking at the contents of the fridge?
"What would you like, sugar?" she asks. She's dressed so well. I look down at my shorts and tank top, feeling underdressed and slovenly.
"I… I don't know." I blink hard, trying to dispel the confusion. She gently pries my hand off the fridge door and reaches in. She pulls out some orange juice and then grabs a glass.
"One for Edward, too," I instruct her. "Please." I don't want to be rude.
"Of course." She smiles and collects another glass, fills them both and then slides them across the counter to me. I hesitate for a moment and then pick them up. I smile at her, then at the fathers, and then make my way back to our room. My room.
When I enter, Edward is sitting upright on the mattress.
"Where'd you go?" he asks.
"Downstairs."
"You should have woken me so you didn't have to leave on your own." His voice is serious. He trusts no one.
I walk back over to the bed and hand him the juice. He smiles gratefully and I take my customary seat, legs crossed before him on the mattress. We both look at our glasses. I admire the slight condensation that has formed, making the contents of the cup seem even more appetising.
"Shit, it's been a long time," he mutters and then takes a sip. I do the same. It is fantastic and I find myself sculling down the whole thing. I finish with a satisfied moan and look up to see Edward has done the same. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and I giggle. He's always such a pig.
"Shut up," he grumbles. "It was really good, alright?" His defensiveness makes me laugh more.
I hear a knock at the door and Edward grabs my hand reflexively.
"It's Esme," sounds from the other side, and we both relax minutely. She opens the door a moment later, a tray in her arms. It's covered in an array of breakfast foods: eggs, sausage, hash browns, a fruit salad, some toast. She sets it down between us on the mattress.
"I wasn't sure what to make you two, but you need to eat something," she says softly. "You're both too thin, and it breaks my heart."
"Thanks, mom," Edward says and she smiles happily. She stands beside the bed for a moment, and then leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Neither of us move towards the food.
"Go," he says with a nod towards the tray. I shake my head.
"After you."
He rolls his eyes.
"Bella, I'm not touching anything til you've taken a piece of food from the tray."
Staring him dead in the eye, I reach out and pluck a grape from the salad. I chew it slowly, taunting him.
"There, I took a piece. Your turn."
"That's not funny," he growls at me, and I poke my tongue out at him. He scowls and picks up a piece of toast, thrusting it at me. I take it, although reluctantly. I feel a little better when he picks up the other one and takes a bite. I nibble on my toast, my stomach reacting in a strange way. I thought I'd wolf down the whole thing in an instant, but after half a piece of toast, I feel full.
"Why haven't you eaten more?" he asks suspiciously.
"Because for some strange reason, I'm really full."
"Yeah, me too," he says. "This is fucking weird."
He moves the tray to the bedside table and we both lean back against the headboard, our legs stretched out before us. Our shoulders are touching and the comfortable contact helps settle all the other, scarier feelings coursing under the surface.
"Well, this is a step up from our previous digs," he notes. I laugh.
"It sure is."
"Still… I kind of miss it. I know how fucking stupid and crazy that sounds, but it was familiar, you know? Everything's too big here, and my house is the same." I nod. His words, as per usual, make me feel less stupid for missing it too.
We stay there for a while, not speaking. We have well and truly mastered companionable silences.
"You know," he says after an age, "we could… do something."
"What do you want to do?"
He pauses in thought.
"I don't fucking know."
"We could do anything," I remind him of the daunting reality.
"Yeah… shit. That's intense."
"It's…"
"Fucking awful," he supplies. "Can we just stay here? Maybe put that to use?" He points to the big TV hanging on my wall. I smile and nod, because he's read my mind.
One might think that all I'd want to do is run around and get out into the world after being locked away from it for so long. Even I thought that's what I'd want to do. However, if being away has taught me anything, it's that the world is a big, scary place, and you're safest when you're somewhere small with someone who will protect you. In return, you protect them as well. It's the only way to survive.
So, even though my bedroom is far too big for my liking, we stay on the bed, watching Disney movies from my collection. I'd bought them in a bout of nostalgia and they are untouched, still wrapped in plastic. I pop in 'Alice in Wonderland' and dart back over to the bed.
Edward and I spend the rest of the afternoon in this position. It's perfect. I'm somewhere familiar, albeit obscenely large, on a mattress, with Edward. And unlike our time away, I don't have the added concerns of being at the whims of the men.
The men.
I shudder. Edward, being Edward, notices at once.
"What's up?"
"Oh… nothing." I know I'm just being silly, there's really no need to discuss it further.
"Fuck nothing," he dismisses me. "Tell me what's wrong."
I look down at the mattress, tracing the indents with my fingertips. He puts a hand over mine.
"Bella, it's me. Tell me."
I sigh heavily.
"I just… I don't like thinking about it."
He waits for me to continue. I really don't want to. Eventually I try again to frame the words.
"I just… don't know what happens now. Where do we go from here? How can I possibly go back to the way I was before? I barely even remember the way I was before. I need help, Edward! I can't do this on my own!"
My breathing accelerates and my voice rises in pitch as the panicked diatribe leaves my mouth. I close my eyes, trying to will away the terror that is bubbling up inside me. It's no use. My whole body is tensed and I'm rocking slightly.
How am I ever going to survive the world now that I know just how terrifying it can be? There's no way. I can't do it. But what choice does that leave me with?
"Bella, open your eyes. You have to calm down." Edward has never spoken to me like this before. His voice is stern, laced with authority and I can't ignore his instruction. I force my eyes open to meet his green ones.
"I'm fucking scared too, Bella. Believe me, I'm terrified. How can I possibly protect you, or myself out here? There's too much of… everything." He's not distressed like me, he's frustrated. I sympathise because I know exactly how he's feeling. I'm just not handling it as well as he is.
"But," he presses on, "we can stick together, and figure out some way to make shit work out here. Yeah, it's fucking scary, but we'll look out for each other, ok?"
His hands move to my arms. He pries them out of my hair and they fall limply to my sides. He then begins to stroke up and down, his fingertips grazing my skin in a bizarrely calming way. I sigh as relief creeps back to me.
I feel… relieved, now that he knows how I feel, and that he acknowledges my fears are legitimate. Although I don't understand how he can be so calm about everything, I know he won't leave. I know I can trust him.
He's the only one I can trust.
AN: Oh, our poor, traumatised babies.
Ok, so someone decided to really sweetly and charmingly point out that my story is similar to one called 'The Perfect Space'. I do not steal people's ideas, and this is a really bizarre, embarrassing coincidence. There is more than enough room in the fandom for stories about kidnapping victims, and if you like the other one better, feel free to jump ship.
To all those who sent lovely reviews, I adore you.
Over and out.