Two weeks into my sessions with Dr Reynolds, or Garrett as I now call him, I finally gather the courage to talk to him about my Edward-related deficiencies.
"Bella," he asks, noting my posture, which apparently tells him everything he needs to know about me. "Do you have something you'd like to talk about today?"
"Other than the usual torture you put me through?" I tease. He laughs but says nothing, giving me a chance to speak.
"I... you know how we were talking about ways all my trauma manifests itself?" I paraphrase his technical way of speaking in a vain attempt to distance myself from the embarrassing subject matter.
He nods in acknowledgement.
"There's one... one that I haven't told you about."
His smile fades slightly.
"Bella, you have to be completely honest with me about everything you're thinking and feeling. How can I help you if you hide from me?"
His voice carries no anger or disappointment, but I still feel like hanging my head in shame.
"It's just..." I fumble for words, "it's kind of awkward to talk about."
"There's no reason for you to feel awkward around me," he sooths with a smile.
"I know that," I sigh. I do know that, but this stuff is just horrifying to talk about, even with Alice, let alone a grown man I've only known for a couple of weeks.
"Ok, lay it on me then," he smirks.
"Edward and I... we kiss and stuff, and that's great." Great is an understatement. "But whenever things get to the point of... progressing... I get really freaked out and can't do it."
I rush the words out, completely embarrassed by the conversation. He nods, seemingly unsurprised.
"Ok, now I get why you're feeling a little awkward talking about this with me," he laughs, and I scowl at him. His expression sobers and he gestures for me to continue.
"I've told you about the calm, and the serenity that I get from him, but it seems like when I get... excited and too involved in what we're doing, I just shut down."
Edward and I haven't tried to do anything beyond our one mortifying experience in the bathroom, mainly because he's terrified to touch me for fear of hurting or upsetting me. It took him nearly a week to realise that he could kiss me without inciting my irrational panic, and that week nearly drove me out of my mind.
"Can you describe how you feel when you shut down?"
"It's just... it's all a bit too much, you know?" I ask, even though he probably doesn't know at all, what with his not being a nut case.
"I'm going to ask you something delicate, and I don't want you to freak out," he warns me, as he always does. I brace myself, as I always do.
"Have you ever been involved in a sexual situation before?"
I feel like I'm going to be sick from pure embarrassment. I cover my face with my hands and nod quickly, begging whatever higher power is up there to somehow speed up time and get me through this conversation as quickly as possible.
"So you understand that a certain level of nervousness and excitement are standard feelings to have?"
"Yeah, but it's not like that," I try to explain. "It's completely overwhelming, like I can't breathe or think and I'm losing control of myself and we've barely even touched over the clothes. The idea of what would happen if we actually did anything kind of terrifies me because I can't handle it but I don't want to freak out again."
Garrett nods and smiles, as if the puzzle of my isanity is unlocking before his eyes. I wait for him to explain, and the seconds pass like hours.
"Despite your clear embarrassment about this," he says teasingly, "it actually makes quite alot of sense in terms of your PTSD." I try not to cringe, because I hate when he calls it that, but he insists it's the clinical description and nothing to be ashamed of or uncomfortable about.
"When you give yourself to another person in that way, it's all about giving up control. You're placing your trust in them, allowing them to experience a part of yourself that we are taught from birth to be a very guarded and private thing."
"I do trust Edward," I say with a slight pout. I trust him with my life, which is why my discomfort is so confusing to me.
"I know you do," he agrees, "but this isn't about Edward, so much as the fact that as a result of your abduction, you constantly struggle with feeling out of control. When we're engaged in sexual activity, our inhibitions, our limits, relax as physical need takes over. We lose control in the most primeval way."
I think I'm going to pass out from all the blood rushing to my cheeks.
"For someone who's been in your situation, the involuntary loss of control that sexual excitement brings would be frightening. You're fighting against your biological response, which is to give in to the feelings, and your learned behaviour, which is an intense, irrational desire to maintain your focus and control of the situation as best you can.
"The panic you're speaking of results when you can't reconcile the two."
I think on his words for a long moment, then nod. It makes so much more sense when he explains it, and I feel myself relax slightly as understanding seeps into my mind.
"But how can I fix it?" I ask, hoping desperately that he has an answer for me.
"You need to bridge the two feelings and the best way I can think of to do that is to talk to Edward. I know that he doesn't know about you and I spending time together - which you know I'm not thrilled about - but tell him that you'd like to try and explore things, at your own pace.
"Perhaps have him sit beside you and ask him to let you instigate a situation. You take things slowly, testing the waters as you go, and when you start to feel uncomfortable, you stop. Practice makes perfect and all that."
I nod as excitement begins to take root in my stomach. Garrett has explained my feelings to me, and offered me a way to solve what felt like a somewhat insurmountable problem between Edward and I. I want him, in every way, and now I feel like it could be possible.
We can have a normal relationship.
I smile ridiculously at the thought of that, and Garrett laughs indulgently.
"Feeling better now?" he asks.
I nod.
"Thank you, Garrett." My words are fervent and sincere. He smiles.
"You're welcome. However, as a doctor and a friend of the family, I feel like it's my job to remind you to protect yourself. Remember, if it's not on, it's not on."
I snort at the ridiculous slogan coming from his mouth, and he laughs.
"Get out of here, I'll see you in a few days," he says with a flick of his hand towards the door. I walk out of the office, feeling uncharacteristically lighthearted as I very nearly skip over to Esme, who's sitting in the waiting room reading what looks to be a cook book.
"Hello, sweet!" she coos when I make my way over. She tosses the book in her bag and stands, appraising me with her keen eyes.
"My, my, you look happy this afternoon. I take it things went well?" she asks, looking over my shoulder and waving at my therapist, and her friend. I nod happily. She doesn't push further than that, and I'm happy, because I can't think of a way to explain my mood to her.
When we arrive home I bound up the stairs, only to find myself disappointed when Edward isn't there. I wander through the house, checking rooms for him, only to bolt down to the entry way when I hear the sound of a door slam and Checker barking excitedly.
"Chubs, calm down!" I hear Edward chide and I move faster.
I launch myself across the way and into Edward's arms. He drops Checker's leash on the floor and wraps his arms around my waist, holding me to him and lifting me slightly off the floor. I'd kiss him senseless if it weren't for our location and Esme's proximity to us.
"I missed you," I breathe into the skin of his neck, then abruptly pull away as I realise how disgusting and sweaty he is. "And you absolutely reek."
He laughs as I take a step backwards and make a show of wiping his sweat off me.
"Sorry - we went for a run, didn't we bud?" he asks, looking down at the exhausted puppy sprawled by his feet.
Edward has been working out almost daily, either going the gym thing with 'Felix the Sadist' as he describes his trainer, or running with Checker. Even though it's only been two weeks, I can already see the lines of his body becoming more defined, moving from the slightly emaciated frame I'd come to know to a more healthy, not to mention alluring physique.
The lift in his mood has not gone unnoticed, either. Apparently, exercise-induced endorphins and a way to outlet his rage are doing him alot of favours.
He goes to get a shower and I feed and water my tired puppy, setting him outside with his ridiculously extravagent dog house. I watch him as he downs his food with almost alarming speed then drags his tired little body into bed, smiling the whole time at the cute way he totters about.
I head back upstairs and find Edward waiting for me there, showered and presumably smelling much better. I make sure his bedroom door is closed before bounding over and tossing myself into his lap. He laughs as his arms encase me.
"One of these days, you're going to do that and I won't catch you in time," he warns me.
"Pfft," I snort, "you'll catch me."
"I am pretty awesome," he muses and I cut off his egotistical monologue with a hard, quick kiss. I pull back and try to extricate myself from his hold, but he won't budge.
"Where do you think you're going?" he growls, holding me tightly.
"I don't want to catch your egotism," I tease as I struggle in his arms. "And this proximity to you isn't helping my case."
"Oh, so funny," he deadpans with an eye roll then kisses me again. I'm distracted from my teasing by the feel of his lips on mine, and before i know it my legs are wrapped around his waist and my hands are in his hair.
Predictably, he slows things down before I get the chance to gather my courage and tell him of my plan to try things out, pulling himself away from me and seating himself in the middle of the mattress. He pulls me over so that I'm mimicking his cross-legged position, our knees touching and our linked hands resting between us.
I can't keep the smile off my face when I look at him. I can only hope that he doesn't realise how deliriously happy he makes me, because lord knows his narcicism is bad enough as it is.
"I want to take you somewhere," he says after looking at me for a short while.
"Ok," I respond immediately, a product of my unfailing trust in him. "Where?"
Instead of responding, he answers my question with another one.
"Do you remember the list?" he asks. I nod my head, laughing with surprise, because I can't believe we didn't remember it sooner.
I was leaning against the wall in the bathroom, watching as he washed the blood off his face. He just refused to accept that there was nothing we could do about our situation. He kept fighting and fighting, and the men would punish him harder every time he rebelled. His face was marred with cuts and scabs, that were constantly reopened under the force of the blonde's heavy fists… and whatever else he felt necessary to impart a lesson with.
It drove me crazy that he refused to just accept our reality.
"You need to stop fighting them." His eyes snapped away from the dirty mirror and locked on mine.
"And why the fuck would I do that?"
"Because you're going to get yourself killed!" Him allowing himself to get hurt made me feel like a failure, especially when he tried to take punishments on my behalf. "You need to accept this."
"I'm not fucking accepting anything!" he spat. "We're going to get out of here. One way or another." The confidence in his voice somehow made me feel a little better. He was so sure.
"You promise?" My voice was weak, and although I knew that he was most likely wrong, I wanted so badly to believe him. He smiled at me, pleased that I was on board.
"I promise." He turned back to the mirror and continued gently patting at his face with a piece of wet toilet paper. He winced as he touched on a particularly bad cut, and I winced along with him. It was as though I could feel the pain in my own face as well.
"And you know what I'm going to do when I get back?"
"What?" I asked. I was eager to hear his answer, and one of my own was forming in my head.
"I'm going to take the boat up to my parents' place at Satellite Beach. I haven't done it for so long, and I really fucking miss it."
"You can drive a boat?"
"From your shock I assume you can't." He sighed and then nodded decisively. "You're coming with me then. I'll teach you."
"You're only saying that because you weren't there when I learned to drive." He laughed, obviously not absorbing the seriousness of my statement. "I'm going to lie in the sun until I shrivel up completely. And then, I'm going to go to a spa… massages, manicures, the whole bit." I looked down at my fingernails, that were jagged and completely unkempt. I'd felt so disgusting since I'd been here, I just wanted to feel pampered and lovely again.
"A manicure?" he scoffed. "Are you serious right now? Of all the things in the world you could do, you want to pay someone to fiddle with your hands for a while?"
I rolled my eyes at him, irritated at his dismissal.
"Clearly, you have never had a good mani before."
"Yeah, because I'm a guy."
"Shut your mouth. I'll convert you, just you wait and see."
"Bring it on." He smirked cockily, and I mirrored his expression, looking forward to the day when I would prove him wrong. Suddenly, the confident expression was replaced by a nervous one.
"There won't be pink nail polish or any of that crap, will there?"
"We'll see," I deadpanned, laughing internally at the horror on his face.
The memories are some of the only pleasant parts of the darkest phase of my life.
"Of course I remember the list."
"Let's go to Satellite Beach."
"Alright," I agree. "When?"
"Tomorrow."
"Is that... can we do that?"
"We can do anything we want."
The words hit me much more strongly than I think he intended them to. While I know he's referring to the fact that the beach house is readily available for us, to me, they mean so much more. We're free. We can do anything we want to. The possibilities are limitless now.
A huge, face-straining smile bursts across my features. He cocks his head to the side slightly, confused by my overzealous reaction.
"What?"
"We can do anything we want." I repeat his words, an unmistakable reverence in my voice. He looks thoughtful for a moment, then his face lights up with recognition as he realises the deeper meaning. He smiles so beautifully it makes my stomach hurt a little bit.
"Yes, we can."
The words hold more meaning than he realises.