EPOV
Dr Douchebag.
She's been seeing that asshole for shit knows how long, behind my fucking back.
She lied to me.
She lied.
I feel like I've been punched in the gut. There's an ache in my stomach from where the betrayal seems to have festered into a phyiscal weight, pulling at all of my organs and making me feel like I'm going to vomit. I keep moving, pacing the small foyer of the house because I really do think that if I stop moving I'll throw up.
She's meant to be the only one I can fucking trust. She knows that. I wouldn't have fucking minded if she'd wanted to see that condescending fucker every fucking day, as long as she'd told me.
For all I know, she has been seeing him every fucking day.
I'm torn between running back outside to scream in her face, demanding she tell me every minute fucking detail of every conversation between the two of them, and getting in my car and getting as far away from here as humanly possible. I can't do the former because it's completely insane and would probably terrify her, and I can't do the latter because despite everything, there's no way I'd ever leave her alone and unprotected.
That's not to say that I'm not really fucking tempted.
I'm hurt, angry and just want to punch something, so I do just that. The first thing that comes into view is a surfboard, propped up against a wall in the foyer.
Bingo.
I run at it, as if it's going to try to get away from me, and my fist collides the second it's within arms reach. My sessions with Felix the Sadist have really helped my technique, but the board is strong, stronger than the skin of my knuckles, so after three, four, five punches, I'm bleeding and swollen and I don't regret it for a fucking second. To the contrary, I keep beating the shit out of the board, as if breaking it in half will somehow answer every question cropping up in my head at the moment.
Well really, there's just one.
Why the fuck would she hide this from me?
"Edward!" I hear her cry, the only voice in the world despite how angry I am. She runs over, her face blotchy and still covered in tears that fell after I walked away from her. It stings a little that I wasn't there, but I push the feeling aside, letting my betrayal dominate my emotional palate.
"Edward, stop! You're hurting yourself!"
She reaches out to stop my hands from moving, and I flinch away from her, not wanting her calming touch in the moment. I want to be angry - I need it. It's the only thing that's stopping me from breaking down like a little bitch.
"What, you want to hurt me yourself some more?" I hiss at her, immediately feeling like an asshole when her shoulders sag and a tear follows the path of the ones before it that are still marking the reddened skin.
"I'm sorry," she breathes. "I'm so, so sorry I lied to you. I just -"
"You just what?" I snap, cutting her off before she can give the very explanation I'm asking for.
"I wanted to be better." Her voice breaks over the word 'better'.
"Why? So you can fucking leave me behind?"
My voice holds anger and disdain, my tools of choice for hiding just how fucking broken and needy I am. Is that why she's been doing this? So that one day, when she gets the normality she craves so badly, she can leave my crazy, traumatised ass behind and make a real life for herself?
"No!" she cries, coughing as a sob cuts off the word.
"I thought we were going to do this shit together!"
"You weren't ready!" she very nearly screams at me. "You weren't ready yet and I didn't want to make you go, so I did it alone! You think it was easy for me - to go there on my own and talk about all that bullshit? Because it really fucking wasn't!
"But we want to be better and we can't do it alone, Edward!"
I'm stunned by her display. She never yells, and rarely curses.
"How dare you judge me for trying to get better!" she continues, uninterrupted by me as I try to absorb what she's saying. "All I fucking wanted, and you knew I wanted, was for us to get past this! You have your training, and that seems to be helping, but what did I have? Nothing! So I spoke to him, and he's fucking helping me, Edward!"
Her rage seems to dissolve and a sob breaks on my name.
"How can you be so angry that he's helping me?"
The question, and her broken, sad little voice nearly kill me. My anger dissipates and I realise what a completely and utter asshole I'm being to her.
"Bella," I breathe and reach out to her, but she pulls away. She's never done that before, and it hurts, just another layer of pain on top of all the bullshit of the evening. Her shoulders are hunched over, arms wrapped around herself as she stands just out of my reach, sobbing quietly and looking so fucking tiny. Broken, and tiny.
I sink down to the floor, crossing my legs and she looks down on me for a moment before she mimicks the action. She draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, hiding herself.
From me.
I drag my hands through my hair and rub them harshly down my face, trying to gather myself despite the complete whirlwind of bullshit that seems to be clogging my head and making me unable to say what I'm thinking. My knuckles fucking sting from my violent outburst, but that's nothing compared to the feeling that has settled in my stomach, and needs to be addressed first.
"I'm sorry," is the only thing I manage to verbalise. "I'm so fucking sorry, but can't you see I'm terrified here, Bella?"
Her eyes finally meet mine, and I'm sure she sees the embarrassing wetness on my cheeks, so I focus my eyes on her tiny little feet, resting in front of her and tipped with pale blue nail polish. It's a fucking stupid color but it suits her so well.
"If you leave... I can't - I'll..."
I can't finish the sentence because I don't know what would happen if she left. The very possibility of it makes me feel like I'm being torn right down the fucking middle. My choked, unfinished statement hangs in the air between us, but I can't bring myself to look at her face.
"This is what I don't understand," she muses. I don't look up, but I'm riveted, desperate to know what she's thinking, and if now is the moment she'll realise what a fuck-up I am and leave me here, broken and alone on the fucking floor, probably where I belong.
"You say that you feel like this about me. I've told you, a million and one times, that I feel the same way about you. I've begged you to never leave me, I've told you what it would do to me. All those times, you swore to me you'd never go anywhere, that no matter what happens, you'll stay with me."
"I will," I cut in. I'm not lying. I would, if she'd have me.
"But why can't you believe me when I say the very same words back to you?"
I just want to pull her into my arms and hold onto her, to prove beyond a doubt that she's not going anywhere, but she doesn't want that, and it feels like a slap in the face.
"Because you're over there," I state lowly, petulantly. "You're over there, and you're getting better, and I'm not. Maybe I never will."
"Don't say that," she says firmly. "You will. You already are. Your training is going so well, and when you're ready you can see someone - Garrett, or anyone you want. I know it's hard - I almost gave up after my first visit - but it helps in ways you can't understand until you're doing it.
"The way we live, the way we think - like every single thing is a threat, like we're never safe and no one can be trusted - it's not healthy for us. That's what I've learned. When we're together, we feel better, but we're not helping each other heal. We need help, Edward. It's not shameful or wrong to admit it.
"You know how much you mean to me, and it kills me that you doubt that. When we get better, those feelings won't change. I'm happy to wait for you until you're ready to face what happened to us, but I couldn't wait any longer. I wasn't going to force you to do something you weren't comfortable with, but I couldn't live with the fear and the panic all the time. I won't let those men control our lives anymore, I just can't."
I take a deep breath and process her words. Honestly, I'd never thought about it like that - that the men are controlling us still, even though we're free in the physical sense.
She's right.
"I... you can't leave me, Bella. I need you too much."
I see her nod slowly in my peripheral vision.
"But," I sigh, "I understand what you're saying, and I think you're right." I lift my eyes to her's, and her face holds no judgement. "Maybe it's time I talked to someone, tried to get past it all."
She smiles, just a little bit, and I can't help but notice just how fucking stunning she is. Through all my insanity and anger and accusations and total bullshit, she's fucking smiling at me. I slowly lift my hand and reach it out to her, and thankfully, she takes it. I feel myself calming more and more with every inch she moves as she unfolds her body and places herself in my lap. Her legs move around my waist, her little hands wipe away the wetness on my face and then wrap around my shoulders.
She's my literal security blanket.
I throw my arms around her and crush her to me, overwhelmed with relief that she's willing to touch me again. Her soft hair brushes my cheek and I can feel all my irrational anger drifting away from me.
"It'll be ok, I promise," she murmurs in my ear. "I'll come with you if you want, but it's up to you."
I shake my head slightly, but with her closeness I know she can feel it. Honestly, I'm unbelievably fucking tempted to take her up on her offer, but something tells me that this is something that I shouldn't lean on her for. I've got to man the fuck up and do it myself, for both of our sakes.
"You were so brave, baby, and you did it on your own. I think I need to do the same."
She hums in agreement and presses her lips to the skin of my neck. My arms flex around her, and the next thing I know, it's morning and we're lying on the floor, still completely wrapped up in one another. I'm on my back and my body is fucking aching from being on the wooden floor, but her little body is draped over my completely and I can't help but smile like a fucking idiot despite the discomfort.
"Bella," I murmur and reach a hand up to gently brush her hair back.
"Huh?" she groans, meeting my eyes sleepily. She seems to abruptly realise where we are and sits up, rubbing her face and trying to get a grip on conscious thought.
She's fucking adorable.
"Hey."
"Hey," she replies, our completely banal and inadequate greeting hanging in the air. She looks tentative and curious, as if she's not sure that our conversation last night will still apply this morning. I take the initiative - for once - and speak.
"We should probably get organised and get on the road. I know we're both interested to know what your dad has to say, and I need to speak with my father, because God knows there's no way I'm going to be talking to Dr Douchebag."
The smile on her face and the sound of her laughter help me push down all the fear I have about doing this. Even though I'm fucking terrified of bringing up all that shit, I know it's the right thing to do, and I need to grow a pair and get myself together.
If she can do it for me, then I'm going to do it for her.
At the very least, I'm going to try my ass off.
AN: Edward has a slight flair for the melodramatic, doesn't he? Don't act like you don't love him anyway, even though many of you weren't happy with him last chapter.
Just a quick heads up for anyone who's not sure - Bella was never raped or sexually abused in any way when she was taken. She was taunted with the possibility of it, but it never happened.