JBPOV
I don't have many of the facts, but I know that I failed.
I failed my beautiful girl, failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe.
When she initially hadn't returned, that night under the bridge, my first reaction was anger.
"Where the fuck is she?" bellowing, I tossed the slimy drug rat down, shoving his face in the growing puddle on the riverbank. Blind in panic, I pull my fist back and slam it, again and again, into the coward. When I shouted after Bella, the piece of shit caught my eye in the shadows, slinking out from under the bridge. He definitely knew something.
"I'll fucking kill you, I swear to god." I snarl in his filthy face, feeling for all the world like a wild animal, predatory and ready to tear the world apart for her.
Sobbing, hands up, the guy chokes out, "He took her man! She's gone!"
"Who?"
"I don't know him." Pleading, red-rimmed and strung out eyes. "He watches the girls sometimes. He's blonde, long hair. Ok man? Let me go, ok? She's gone!"
Tossing the snivelling boy down, I straighten to my full height. The storm continues, but getting a little wet is less and less concerning the longer Bella was missing. I feel a moment of clarity, which strikes though my anger painfully. How will I find her with only this to go on? Is Bella even still alive to be found? Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes. No, I will find my girl regardless. I will find her, and find a way to hold down a real job. I will save her from her abuductor, whoever he is, and then maybe she will finally take my touch without flinching. And maybe, finally, I can be happy.
I remember when I first came across the girl. She was fresh on the streets, holding a piece of glass, pathetically trying to protect a shitty shelter from another anonymous homeless man. I was struck by her, a teensy girl holding her own- well, trying to- against a seasoned street rat. Before he could laugh, she struck out with the ferocity of a tiger coming from her little kitten body. She stabbed the guy! Well, really just cutting his hand, but still.
The man shrank back, thinking twice about prey that might fight back. Upon doing so, he caught a glimpse of me, as hulking and imposing as I could be. Needless to say, he made himself scarce.
Bella looked up at me with terror and fire behind her eyes, raising again her little scrap of a weapon and furrowing her brow in an adorable look of intensity.
I crossed my arms and smiled, saying "Hi. I'm Jake".
From that moment on, we had an uneasy relationship. I cared for Bella, but her unspoken past was like an emotional ball and chain. She could never completely give me her trust, no matter how often I earned it. But it was nice to have a companion to spend the long, cold nights with. To speak to, to enjoy, and know that she would never screw me over.
And now she was gone, taken into the night, by some servant of it.
I considered her my family out here- even my band of merry misfit street guys hadn't provided what she had. Despite her obviously horrific past, despite her obvious mental instability, she still represented a normal life for me.
Raised far from here, among dewy evergreens and under an overcast sky, I had known always that I wasn't where I should be. That being said, I had never known exactly where I ought to go. I knew that the reservation was wrong for me, that the strong culture of my people felt so foreign to me even after being raised completely under its influence. I had never been at home there, and this led to my inevitable disenchantment. When I struck out on my own, I claimed I was looking for work, or a change of scenery. In reality, I was only looking for home.
And I thought I found it in those brown doe-eyes.
I shove my hands in my pockets, striding with purpose under the Seattle storm. Through the city streets, I see the world in black and white. I have a rough description to go on, and plenty of influence among the true eyes and ears of the city. I slip around the corner into an alley, with a task at hand and a mission under foot.
BPOV
One of the worst parts of this imprisonment is the not knowing. The not knowing night from day, and the not knowing what will happen to me from one moment to the next. There is no discernable way to keep track of time, other than counting off the seconds in my own head. But through the haze of my exhaustion, hunger, and pain, this is near impossible. I drift off into the dark sea within my own mind, fingers faintly reaching to grasp reality and never quite achieving it. I am dimly aware that I am alone, which gave me much more anxiety than it ought.
Where is he?
The mattress is awfully uncomfortable on my sore body, and it has a not-so-faint smell of fear, sweat, and girl. And lightly, lightly underneath all that: the smell of blood. A coppery and sharp-edged smell that bites into my senses and steals me from unconsciousness.
I need to be more aware. To cease this waking unawares. When I was in the outside world, I always kept one eye open and was hardly ever caught off guard… well, thanks to Jake, mostly.
Jake!
If anyone will be my salvation, it will be him. Even if Charlie was to find me, he would only drag me back to my hellish childhood home. One nightmare to another. But if Jake was to find me… He is so terribly, terribly devoted. I know that I am not capable of what he wanted for me. I will never be normal- because I am at heart a truly bad girl. Why else would so many of these horrible things happen tome? I must walk through the world doing the wrong things, being the wrong thing… this at least gives me some comfort.
I know that good things happen to good people, and bad things to bad people. The worst thing to think is that I simply have the worst luck- but my mind, deep down, knows that since these things kept happening, I deserve them. Now, I feel that I can take it as a punishment. I can bear it, and be strong.
But Edward… he seems so nice. Like such a good man. I forgive him for the earlier abuse, knowing that he has no choice in the matter at all. We are in this together. Both collared. Both shut in these horrible rooms. Both at the mercy of the disembodied voice.
This also makes him easier to trust. Jake was homeless with me, but I still could never be sure that he wasn't after me, or trying to hurt me for his gain. His strength and charisma, albeit not his temper, would take him far in life. I had no choice, but it surely seemed that he had. This fact nags at the back of my mind, and it permanately poisoned my relationship with him and soured my trust. Yes, that was why I still cowered away from him, winced when he swore.
But Edward.
I open her eyes with a whisper of lashes and a gentle inhale. I can see him sleeping, through the glass this time (the wall is back down). The sharp slope from his broad shoulders to narrow waist, and (blushing) I see the strange firm shape of his behind. Turned away from me, he is quite the sight and sculpture to see… like a work of art, like a god of ancient times. He looks so vulnerable, lying there simply in his skin, that I cannot help but feel no anxiety at all. I imagine what he must be dreaming.
His side rises and falls like a ponderous tide, muscles lax and body wholly disengaged. A body so muscular is truly a weapon, but sleep sheathed it for the time being. I draw in a ragged breath as he turns to lie on his back, stretching his arms with effortless grace above his head. Fisting his hands closed and pulling their length tight, he shudders and relaxes. His arms askew, pouting lips slightly apart, and toss of bronze hair against the white of his sheets and pillow. Incredible.
I myself turn onto my back, and begin taking account of my body. The repeitive shocks did not hurt nearly as much as the repetitive impact with the floor. I was careful to shut down, to force myself to be numb. And his encouragement to me obviously helped. I feel for him, since I know his pain is not only emotional but physical.
The wall begins to rise.
My terror comes swiftly, since this means that the voice is actively watching them. But at once, I feel a wave of calm over me at the thought of his company. Steeling myself, I rise and limp over to his bed, sinking down softly into the mattress and snuggling up to his side. He almost unconciously draws me in close with a massive arm, turning onto his side to face and cradles me. His breath whispers warmly over my face, sharing his peace with me.
And I feel safe.