**First thing, I am a dunce and loaded the wrong version of Chapter 10 on Sunday. It was a very small difference, but if you read the update prior to 8a.m. EST on Sunday morning, you may spot it below. I apologize and will try to be more diligent in the future.
So, did you survived the last chapter? You'll be glad to know that Edward did too, and will be telling his story starting now. There are some flashbacks along the way, which I've separated with little squiggly lines. Hopefully, once you read this, you'll get the hang of it. The next few chapters will be similar in format.
Disclaimer:I can't claim any of it. The song, the Twilight, Edward's striking good looks... it all belongs to someone else.
Chapter 11:
EPOV—
What the hell just happened?
It's a thought that's practically been my mantra for the last four months, and as I watch Bella's face go pale in response to my blood, it's now joined by the also familiar, "How could I have let this happen?"
Since meeting Bella, I've been horrified by my own behavior most of the time, and yet somehow, I can't bring myself to regret any of it. Not now. Not when she's become my whole world. My everything.
I find it almost comical she could doubt I'd leave my whole life behind for her. Apparently, I would also give my life for her. Though, that definitely isn't the plan. Nor was it the plan when I gunned the accelerator at that maniac pointing a gun at her a few minutes ago.
At least I mowed him down with the car. Asshat. I can't say I even care whether or not he's dead now, as long as he doesn't come after us ever again, it doesn't matter.
All that matters is Bella. Whatever she needs. However this has to go down.
Am I delusional? Maybe. But I don't really think so. I haven't lost enough blood yet to be delusional.
I just know I'm supposed to be with her. I know she's it for me. I felt it the first time I held her in my arms, this all-encompassing sense of completion. It was what I'd been waiting for all my life. What my parents had. What I thought, for a long time at least, I never would.
"Edward..? I think we need to pull over."
Her sweet voice jars me out of my thoughts. I remember our situation, remember that we're fleeing for our lives in a busted up Volvo and I shake my head. There's no way I'm stopping.
Except that I can hardly see the road after telling her so.
Her hand covers mine on the steering wheel. "Edward? Baby? You're losing a lot of blood. You need to let me drive."
My eyes drift to hers automatically. Her gaze is steadfast, earnest. She means it, and dammit it if she isn't right. I know I'm losing blood –a lot more blood than I've let on.
I feel helpless when she sees it. She looks positively horrified and ill, but I can only imagine how scared she is as well. And after all she's been through, it's so unfair that this is happening to her now. That she has to survive this, too.
Why did I have to take her to that movie last night?
Yet, if I hadn't, I would still be loathing myself for the way she affects me. I would still be ignorant of the truth. I would still be under the assumption that she was just a high school student. I would never have gotten to know the unbelievably extraordinary woman who revealed herself to me last night. Never would have learned that she cared for me the way I cared for her. Never would have learned that I wasn't actually insane, or sick, or perverted...
I may have never learned that I was just in love.
In love with the most beautiful brown-eyed girl I've ever seen. Did I even tell her that brown's my new favorite color? It's warm, it's welcoming, it's Bella.
It's also my very first memory of her.
And somewhere between being loaded into the back of my brother's police cruiser, and losing consciousness completely, it replays in my mind, again and again.
~(~)~
A streak of brown is all I see before I feel and hear the collision of a small body with my own. The sickening thud that follows has me down on one knee, apologizing to a small, crumpled form in an instant.
"Are you okay? I am so sorry, I didn't see you," I say, horrified that I'd been in such a hurry to get a cup of coffee between classes.
Why did I think I wouldn't need a day off to rest after being out of town all weekend? Stupid.
"Are you all right?" I repeat.
I realize, as I take stock of the completely shocked face staring up at me, that I've not only just plowed down a student, but a female student at that. To my rising horror, she fails to respond right away, but merely blinks, her eyes dilating and then contracting as they open and close rapidly.
"Can you sit up, sweetheart? Did you hit your head?" I ask out of order. I suppose knowing if she has a head injury should come before getting her to sit up. Not thinking, or even waiting for a response, I slide a hand behind her skull to feel for bumps or abrasions.
Though I feel nothing obvious, she remains silent and stunned. My anxiety grows along with an odd butterfly-like sensation when I look into the deep, brown eyes still below me. Unnerved by it, and by my concern for her, I move my eyes over the rest of the girl to try and figure out if she's been otherwise injured.
Of course, it's only then that I realize I have no idea who she is.
"Mr. Cullen? What happened here?" a familiar voice calls out.
Ms. Meyer, the only colleague I have here who I'd call a genuine friend, kneels down opposite me.
"Is she all right?" she asks kindly.
Before I can answer Steph's question, however, an ear-splitting shriek from down the hall interrupts me.
"Oh, my gosh! What did you do to the new girl, Mr. Cullen!"
I can't help but look up with annoyance and embarrassment coloring my gaze. I grind my teeth together in an effort to control my temper and tell the onlookers to go back to class immediately.
Meanwhile, Steph has begun tending to the girl between us and has managed to get her sitting up. As soon as she's up, she seems to be capable of speech again.
"I'm sorry. I'm fine," she says in an unsteady voice.
"Are you sure?" Steph asks. Like me, she's frowning at the shakiness in the girl's voice.
"Maybe we should have that bump on your head checked out," I suggest.
The girl shakes her head slightly. "I'm fine. And my head's fine," she says, rubbing it as if to convince us. "If it still hurts later, I'll just ask your father to take a look at it."
My father?
Suddenly, the blood drains from my face and all the pieces come together. "You're Anna Bella?" I gasp.
Anna Bella, as in my parents' new foster child?
Anna Bella, as in my new fourth period trig student?
My supposedly professional colleague giggles next to me. "Who else would she be, Edward? It's not like we get new students here every day."
At first I scowl at being teased publicly, but I cover it quickly with my trademark smirk.
"Yeah, I guess you have a point," I say. I offer the poor girl sitting between us a hand. "Welcome to Forks High School, Anna Bella. I'm sorry that we met this way."
Anna Bella stares at my hand for a long moment, but makes no move to take it. I look up at Steph again, concern seeping back in.
She raises her eyebrow in question, but just shrugs and pats Anna Bella's shoulder.
"Come on, kiddo. If you're not hurt, you need to get up. Class is about to start."
The words appear to do the trick and the next thing I know, I'm pulling the girl to her feet.
Metaphorically speaking, it's that moment when she knocks me off of mine.
The room actually seems to spin when our gazes lock, and I feel dizzy. It's as though I am literally unable to keep myself steady while I stare into her wide, deep eyes. For a moment, it's as if I've just disappeared inside her, or possibly blacked out. As I come back to myself, my heart is beating wildly, and my breaths are unsteady. The only thing steady is the girl in front of me –almost like she's the center point of the universe, or the only thing in it.
A subtle cough makes me very aware that this is far from the case.
My hand releases hers in a rush, as she rips hers out of mine in return. Before I can even blink, she steps around me and into the classroom. I turn and stare after her.
"Edward?" Steph calls, coming to stand in my line of sight.
"Huh?" I respond.
Her eyes widen. "Are you okay? You look like..." She looks up and down the hall and then pulls me a few feet to the side, allowing a few students to pass into my classroom. "You look like you're the one that just took a blow to the head. What was that?" she hisses.
I blink. "What was what?"
She studies me for a moment, then shakes her head as the bell rings. "Pull yourself together and get in there, Mr. Cullen. Seriously..."
She awards me her trademark eye-roll before turning on her heel and leaving me standing there, outside my classroom, wondering what the hell just happened.
~(~)~
Something warm and wet touches my forehead. And someone is crying.
She's crying. My Bella is crying.
"I'm so sorry, Edward. I'm sorry for all of this. I never should have agreed to coming here."
It takes me a moment to understand what she means, but not a second more to know that she's wrong.
"Shh..." I whisper, turning my head towards where I know she is. "I'm glad... you came."
"Please be okay," she whispers, touching my cheek. "Please don't leave me."
"Never," I vow. "I love... you."
"I love you, too. So much."
Her voice is a broken whisper in my ear. She sounds so afraid and I feel a desperate urge to comfort her. To make sure she knows I mean my words.
I won't leave her. I refuse to give up. Despite the fact that I feel woozy and weak, or that each breath takes more effort than the last, I will not give up. For several long, perfect hours last night I could see my whole future in her eyes. I just didn't tell her. I have to tell her.
"Bella?" I call out, forcing my eyes open to look at her. The world spins and darkens, but I'll hold on as long as I can.
"Yes, baby?" I hear her say before I can finally see her pretty face again.
I smile when she comes into view and say the first thing I think of that tells her everything I need her to know in as few words as possible.
"Marry me?"
She gasps and into the darkness I descend.
~(~)~
A light shines down on us as we sit together at my parents' dining table; a shy, skittish girl who can't understand math and a confused, nervous man obsessed with helping her figure it out.
Or perhaps I'm just obsessed with her in general.
I mean, I only met her five days ago, but I can't stop wondering about her. I can't stop watching her, observing her, trying to figure her out. To figure out the hold she has on me.
That she agreed to let me help her with her homework, even if it was reluctantly, makes me feel an odd combination of emotions that are concerning –especially concerning when combined with our encounter in my classroom yesterday.
When I think about it, I can almost feel the tingle of her warm skin beneath my palms again. It's unsettling. I hadn't even meant to touch her, let alone in any intimate kind of way. I'd only wanted to express my concern for her failing grade in my class.
Her transcripts indicated she shouldn't be having any trouble, so I worried about the cause. Was she acting out? Was she spacing out? Did she not care? Because I cared. I cared about all of the kids. I knew math was low on the average teenager's list of priorities, but I also knew from experience that a solid foundation could make the rest of their lives much better. So I cared.
But with Bella, I was starting to think I cared too much.
I pulled her aside like I normally would, but lost control of the conversation quickly. She reacted to my concern so much differently than I anticipated. She got angry and indignant. Not that I had any idea over what, but I reacted in kind before I could stop myself. Then she went and nearly toppled over a desk head first and I just reacted again.
I didn't even hesitate. Whether she was angry at me or not, I reached out instinctively to keep her from falling. I put my hands around her waist to steady her and ended up pulling her against me.
It wasn't intentional, but that made it no less powerful. And no less wrong.
"Is that wrong?" her nervous voice calls me out of my wandering thoughts. I look across the table at the math problem she's been working on and shake my head.
"Yeah, actually, it is."
She groans and clunks her head against the table. I laugh and grab the text book, flipping back a few more chapters so we can start again.
If only it were that easy in real life. If only I could go back in time and start again without knocking her flat on her back, or staring at her like she's the sun, or touching her. Yeah, definitely want to avoid touching her.
Because now all I want to do is touch her again.
I restrain myself anyway. For the next hour, I keep my hands to myself. Even when Bella finally has some success and my instinct is to offer her a high five, or a pat on the shoulder, I keep it reined in.
Instead I tell her a joke. Unfortunately, it backfires and makes her sad. Or rather, it causes her to remember her old high school, and that makes her sad. Because for a split second, talking about her old life wasn't hard. For a split second, she forgot all that she'd lost.
And I get that. I've been there. So I tell her. Then I touch her.
It's a gesture of comfort and encouragement, but as we talk and she opens up to me, it rapidly becomes something else.
Something more.
I could try and convince myself it's a brotherly affection I feel growing inside, but I know myself better than that. The things I'm feeling for this girl... the way she affects me...
It's definitely something more.
Something that scares the hell out of me.
~(~)~
A wave of panic rushes through me as something causes my body to dip and my stomach to flutter. I feel my legs tilt to the side and someone push them back up.
"We're almost there, Edward. Hang on, okay?"
Bella...
I instantly relax.
"Edward, can you open your eyes? Can you look at me? Please, I want to see those gorgeous green eyes."
I try. I honestly try to open my eyes for her, but it feels like my body is disconnected from my brain. I can almost see us as if from above; me lying across the back seat of my brother's police cruiser with a blood-soaked shirt, and Bella crouched on the floor next to me, begging me to stay with her.
Is this a dream?
"Edward, please open your eyes. Stay with me. Stay with Emmett. Please, Edward."
I try to do as she commands once again, but nothing changes. I still feel like I can see the whole scene playing out from even farther away.
Bella lifts a shaking hand to my neck, she checks for a pulse. She sighs in relief when she finds it and yet screams at my brother to get us to the hospital faster. I can almost see him on the radio, speeding through traffic one-handed like the stunt car drivers we used to wish we'd grow up to be. He tells them I'm not breathing, but I don't think that's quite right.
It feels like I'm breathing. At least it does until the scene in my head shifts and disappears. I feel Bella hovering over me, titling my chin up and placing her sweet, soft lips over mine, creating a seal.
I drift. I hear nothing, I feel nothing, but I think lots of things.
This cannot be happening...
My poor, poor, beautiful girl...
My Bella... Bella...
~(~)~
"Bella?"
I blink as if what I'm seeing across the crowded, smoky sports bar will actually disappear. It doesn't.
I spin around, as if to make sure I haven't just walked into the wrong place. I haven't.
But the longer I stare at a familiar head of silky, dark brown hair in the back corner booth, the more I'm starting to think that Bella has. Boy, has she ever.
I mean, I haven't even been in this joint before. It's rough looking and off the beaten path, and there are about forty-five Harley's parked out front at the moment. It looked like just the kind of place I would want to drown my sorrows and avoid running into anyone I knew.
I realize with a jolt that maybe that was Bella's plan too. If that is, in fact, Bella.
A small, feminine hand snakes across the table and covers the more masculine one. The delicate appendage might as well have been stamped with a photocopy of Bella's ID because there is a very familiar piece of jewelry sitting on the first finger. It's a piece of jewelry I see every single day in fourth period –Bella's moonstone ring.
My thoughts start running a million miles an hour, preventing me from moving right away.
Part of me is ready to rip the arms off of the guy sitting at the table with her just for touching her, let alone for bringing her to a place like this. Another part of me is angry at her for being here. And then there's a smaller part of me, small but growing larger every moment, that is deeply wounded.
After all, the thing that drew my attention to the very back of the bar, the thing that revealed her presence to me, was the sound of her laughter. Laughter like I've never heard from her before. Oh, I knew the sound of her voice immediately. I'd know it anywhere. But the only times I've known her to laugh, it didn't hold half of the joy or elation that seemed to come from her tonight.
I close my eyes and take several deep, steadying breaths, pinching the bridge of my nose in the process. After the night I had tonight, this was the very last thing I needed.
I needed to forget Anna Bella Dwyer. I needed to put her out of my head for once and for all. I needed to get my shit together and not ruin any more dates with beautiful women who might have wanted me to spend the night with them because of a sick little obsession I have with one of my students.
A phenomenal, compassionate, and gifted student... but a student nonetheless.
"Dammit!" I hiss, opening my eyes to find I've garnered a few strange looks from people standing nearby.
I ignore them and stare across the room; anger building, frustration peaking, resentment festering.
What is she doing here?
What is she doing to me?
My feet start moving with purposeful steps. My first priority is to get her out of here. To get her away from the schmuck sitting across from her with his dirty blond hair and all-too obvious laugh lines. I'll deal with everything else later. When we're both in our cars on our way back to Forks.
Except that, as I approach the table, I see there's no way Bella will be able to drive home tonight. At the same moment, the jackass across her apparently recognizes me, or wises up, because he belatedly grabs the bottle of beer out of her hands.
Somehow Bella says the words I happen to be thinking at that exact moment.
"What the hell?" she exclaims.
I feel an ironic bubble of humor at her words, but it's eclipsed by my anger.
"That's exactly what I'd like to know," I say through clenched teeth.
Her reaction is immediate.
Shock and disbelief color her expression as I step in front of the table, arms crossed and pissed off. I question her, asking her what in God's name she thinks she's doing here, but she doesn't answer. She refuses to even acknowledge me. My resentment grows.
Then the flannel-clad idiot with her starts to stand and defend her.
I lose my temper and threaten him. He sits back and puts his hands up, placating me for a time, although I can tell he's calculating his next move. Watching the way he sizes me up makes me seethe.
What the hell does this guy want with Bella?
Even though I was fairly sure of the answer, it was a question I had every intention of asking him to his face. I just never could have been predicted what his actual excuse would be.
A United States Marshal? I mean, is he serious?
I immediately look to Bella for confirmation when the guy shows me his badge.
Her eyes tell me all I need to know. He's legitimate, and she's afraid. Afraid of him, or me, or of whatever's happening to her, I don't know.
But for the first time since I've known her, I see the depth of Bella's fear and pain in her eyes. All this time I'd thought her merely grieving, but this is so much more. Something significant enough to put a hollowed out expression on her beautiful face that belies the seriousness of the situation.
My emotions swing as if on a pendulum after that. It's completely unsettling.
I'm a guy. I don't do mood swings. It's exhausting to be mad as hell one moment and terrified the next. Indignant in one breath and then humbled in the next. Jealous, then overwhelmed with concern and a desire to comfort.
By the time I've accomplished my goal and get Bella out of the bar, I'm too raw to say anything I won't likely regret, so I stay silent for as long as I can.
When we pass Port Angeles, Bella starts in on me about leaving her car. I start in on her about drinking.
I wonder how the hell she didn't get carded, but don't ask. I do ask about Jasper Whitlock when she makes up some excuse about how he would never let her get hurt.
What did she think I was doing at this very moment?
That aside, the conversation turns heavier. I have to ask her what kind of relationship she has with him. Fancy cop or not, I'll kill him if he's abused his position as her protector just to get in her pants.
The thought makes my stomach twist and my chest ache. Is it in sheer disgust, or something more?
You're jealous... a voice whispers somewhere deep inside. I tamp it down with a heavy dose of self-loathing. I know I'm just as bad, if not worse than the flannel-clad, Timberland wearing, Federal agent I want to disembowel at the moment.
I'm relieved beyond measure when Bella tells me I won't have to.
Just past Lake Crescent, her phone beeps and I watch out of the corner of my eye as she reads an incoming text. I stifle a loud sigh.
"Is that him?"
"Yes," she says simply.
The breath I've been holding escapes me in a rush. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
She doesn't answer. I know she won't.
"You can't answer that. I get it," I say.
"Thank you," she whispers.
My mouth opens again before I can stop myself. "Is Bella even your real name? Can you at least tell me that?"
"I shouldn't," she replies. She's quiet for a while then surprises me. "But... yes," she answers. "Bella is my real name."
"Good," I answer. "It suits you."
The rest of the drive is quiet, though my mind is anything but.
~(~)~
Instead of being in my car on the way to Forks, I'm being pulled out of it and onto a gurney. I don't think I should even be aware of this, but something jolted me from the warm and comfortable, if somewhat confusing, place that I was.
Awareness turns out to be a funny thing.
A moment ago I was on my way home with Bella, about to overstep my boundaries and give in to my longstanding desire to hold her in my arms and comfort her, and now I'm being wheeled away from her and into a hospital.
I can't even see, but I know it to be true.
I know because I can feel her presence leaving me, I can feel the last breath she gave me leaving my body.
And it's so completely unfair.
It's so wrong that one person should have to endure the worst kind of loss imaginable and then go through it all over again.
Even as my brain struggles for survival, there's one thing I know.
I cannot die. I can't. It would kill her, too. I know it would.
I've heard it in her voice. I've seen it in her eyes.
Her beautiful, brown eyes.
They're the last thing I can remember seeing before I couldn't keep my own eyes open any longer. Even now, as the darkness descends on me, they're burned into my mind and heart.
And as I drift... As I slip... They are the last most precious thoughts I have.
Brown...
Beautiful...
Bella.
~(~)~
"Bella?" I call out across the room.
It's been almost a week since I last spoke to her and she looks surprised, a bit fearful. I kick myself internally, berating myself for having been a coward since the night I crossed every line of decency there is. I should have apologized for my behavior again sooner, but I was afraid to even look at Bella, let alone speak to her.
But now we're back in my classroom once again and I need to change that. I've kept up the silent treatment long enough and someone is bound to notice the tension between us soon if I don't do something to ease it. I at least have to know if she's okay, or if she's frightened of me now.
Were that the case, I'd have to do something about it. Though I don't know how the school would find a replacement for me on short notice, and at this point in the school year.
It's an unusually cold Thursday morning in March. Snow fell lightly this morning and, though it's technically still winter, this much of the fluffy white stuff is unusual for Forks. It makes for delighted and distracted teenagers.
With the exception of one.
Which is why I've chosen to speak with her this day.
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" I ask tentatively. "It won't take long."
Bella looks towards the door longingly, watching as the rest of her classmates file out. When the last one exits the room, she sits back down at her desk.
She says nothing. She doesn't move her eyes from the fake wooden surface in front of her. She barely seems to breathe.
"Are you all right?" I ask softly, maintaining my post at my own desk –far across the room from her– with the door wide open.
She nods. Twice.
I clear my throat and take a deep breath. "I owe you another apology. I've made you uncomfortable in class now."
She shakes her head. "No," is all she says.
"Haven't I? You can't even look at me."
Still she remains silent.
"I know what I did, Anna Bella, and I know it was... out of line."
Her bottom lip quivers ever so slightly and her eyes close. I don't think I'm imagining that she's breathing faster too.
"I'm so sorry for this," I whisper, looking down.
"You didn't do this, Ed..." She takes a stilted breath. "Um, Mr. Cullen."
I cringe. "I'm your teacher. I'm like your..." I choke on the word, my throat refusing to allow it to pass. Brother. I cough. "At the very least, I should have known better than to push."
"You didn't do anything wrong. You only wanted to help. I understand that, but I can't let you. I'm sorry."
She stands up and looks at me. Her eyes are filled with sorrow and regret, but then she blinks and it's like someone erased her whole personality.
"Bella...?"
She shakes her head and starts for the door. "Don't worry about it. Let's just forget the whole thing."
"Bella, please."
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Cullen."
"Bella, no..." I whisper.
But it's too late.
She's gone.
~(~)~
Darkness and silence.
Numbness and weightlessness.
Then... everything.
Sound and light. Warmth and cold. Awareness and confusion. Pain, and fear, and exhaustion.
My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each. I can't seem to make them open, but I can hear.
I hear murmured voices, the incessant beeping of a machine, the hiss of a second one. I hear air swirling through a vent and the pages of a book being turned. I hear humming and my own breathing.
In and out. In and out. In and... ouch, that hurts.
I think I may have gotten a little overzealous about the breathing because there is now a searing pain in my shoulder. I also feel an almost throbbing ache radiating from that point down my arm and even into my chest.
I take a smaller breath, but it doesn't work. Something's caught in my very dry throat. I try to cough and now the pain is intensifying, spreading and growing at the same time. I groan and fight against the thing in my throat, but it's choking me.
"Carlisle, wake up!"
Mom...
"Edward? Honey? It's all right. You're all right. You're in the hospital. There's a tube in your throat to help you breathe. It's okay."
"Don't fight it, son. Just relax," a sleepy voice says. "Did you press the call button, love?"
"Yes."
"Did he open his eyes, or just start fighting the vent?"
"He just started sort of gagging. Is that bad? What's wrong, Carlisle?"
I feel my father's hands on me and I try to open my eyes. They barely flutter.
"I think he's feeling some pain," my dad finally says. "How long has it been since his nurse was in?"
"I don't know, maybe twenty minutes?"
My dad takes my hand. "Edward, son? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."
I squeeze as hard as I can.
"Are you in pain?"
I do it again. It takes some effort.
A hear a door open and set of footsteps. "Dr. Cullen?"
"My son's in pain. Can you administer more morphine?"
"His last dose should have been enough for another hour or so and with his kidneys..."
"I don't care! Get the attending physician in here. My son is exhibiting all the non-verbal cues for a patient in extreme physical pain, and he's now struggling against the vent. We do not need to be adding anything to the whole host of problems we're already dealing with."
"Yes, sir. I'll be right back," the unfamiliar voice says.
A finger lifts one of my eyelids and shines a bright light in it. I wince and try to turn my head which now feels like it's ready to explode.
"Hang on, Edward. Just stay calm. Stay calm..."
I try, but it feels like an eternity before anyone returns and the searing, aching, excruciating pain finally begins to ebb. Eventually, I can breathe again.
In and out. In and out. In and...
"Edward, it's Dad. If you're still in pain, can you squeeze my hand?"
I stay still. I'm exhausted, but no longer hurting.
I feel a hand on my forehead. "Do you think he's going to be okay, Carlisle?"
"I hope so, sweetheart. We're just going to have to keep a close eye on him."
Someone sniffles. "Rest now, honey... Sleep and get better."
Warmth touches my cheek. Lips, perhaps? A kiss?
This thought triggers something. An image... Brown eyes... Beautiful, brown eyes that stay with me until I drift once again.
~(~)~
I'm not sure what it was that caught my attention initially. I was nearly asleep on my parent's couch, the Military Channel droning on in the background, when something made me sit up.
A thud and Bella's voice made me stand up.
Arriving outside her bedroom door to hear her practically screaming woke me the hell up. And fast.
"Bella?" I call out, knocking.
Nothing. Silence. No, not silence, but the sound of muted sobs and thrashing sheets.
"What the hell?" Pressing my ear against the wood, I try the handle.
It's locked.
"Nooo... don't, please don't..." she moans.
"Bella?" I shout, jerking the handle and banging my shoulder against the barrier in my way.
It takes me only a split-second to reach up and grab the key from above the doorframe. Praying she's only having a bad dream, I unlock the door and throw it open. My eyes scan the room, a weight lifting from my chest when I see that it's empty with the exception of Bella.
She's twisted in her sheets and crying, but otherwise uninjured and alone. No one is hurting her. No one is here.
Thank God.
Relieved, I walk to her bedside, glancing at the closet and towards the bathroom just to be sure. There's nothing there either. Bella cries out again. My feet move without my permission as she calls for her mother, choking on another sob.
Kneeling down next to her bed, I try to calm her. "Shhh, Bella. It's okay. It's just a dream."
"Mom... Daddy..."
"Oh, sweet girl," I sigh, my heart breaking for her. "Come on, wake up."
She doesn't seem to hear me. Her face twists like she's in pain, her head thrashes to the side and sends her hair tumbling down over parts of her face. She sobs again.
"Anna Bella, wake up," I say a little louder.
It's probably not loud enough, but I'm afraid of startling her awake. I'm also afraid of what she'll do when she sees me here. And of what I'll do... or say.
I've been a nervous wreck just having to sleep in the same house as her. Being in her room in the middle of the night is nearly enough to send me into a panic. Especially considering how she reacted the last time I tried to take care of her or comfort her.
She can barely stand to look me in the eye anymore. How will she feel finding me at her bedside? With her little tank-top pushed halfway up her stomach and her long, shiny hair splayed every which way?
I close my eyes and rub my face vigorously with my hands while adding 'Bella in pajamas' to the list of things I'm not allowed to think about ever again.
"Edward..."
My head snaps up wildly. My heart pounding, I fall over at the shock of hearing my name. When my eyes make their way back to the bed, I expect to see her sitting up or getting ready to hit me or something, but she remains lying on her side, seemingly still asleep.
"Bella?"
I say her name gently, waiting to see if she'll open her eyes. She doesn't. Her breaths even out and instead of the grimace from moments ago, her face is now the picture of peace, a small smile playing at her lips.
Scooting back to the side of the bed again, I kneel next to her. I'm a little confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. I guess I can assume her nightmare must have run its course.
"Edward," she sighs again.
I blink in astonishment.
Did she wakeup and then close her eyes again? Is she still dreaming? Did she hear me comforting her, but stay in that place somewhere between being awake and being asleep?
I go with the last theory and whisper words of comfort to her. They fall so naturally from my lips.
"I'm here, Bella. You're safe... It was just a bad dream."
She breathes deeply and smiles, her nose twitching when a lock of hair slides against it. I have to stifle a small laugh, my hand reaching up automatically to lift the hair from her face. Pausing just long enough to make sure she doesn't move suddenly, I tuck it behind her ear.
Her head turns towards the motion causing me to withdraw quickly. She rolls over further and buries her head into her pillow.
"Mmmmmm, Edward..."
Oh... crap...
The air in my lungs leaves in a whoosh. My mouth falls open with a pop. The temperature of the room increases by about fifty degrees.
Forcing myself to keep breathing, I decide I must have actually gone over the deep end in my obsession with this girl.
I'm must be losing it, because Bella did not just moan my name.
"Stay..."
I exhale sharply once more and stare at her, unseeing, for a long time.
Eventually, I stand and grab Bella's desk chair to sit in. I don't think twice about what I'm doing. She asked me to stay, so I do. If I were capable of being entirely honest with myself, I'd admit that I'm waiting to see if she might possible say or moan my name again.
She doesn't.
She remains quiet and calm. She stays at peace and remains relaxed in my presence for once. She also mumbles on occasion.
Too green... A swan... Hate math...
The last one makes me smile, but also reminds me of our situation, and the fact that I shouldn't be in here with her.
Waiting until her talking subsides and she grows so still I have to watch her chest just to see that she's breathing, I decide to take my leave. I push her desk chair back into its place and pick up a book that I see peeking out from under her bed.
Wuthering Heights...
I laugh sardonically. I'd always hated Heathcliff and Catherine. Ironically, I felt much more sympathy towards them at this moment. Wanting something you can never have –loving someone you could never be with– it would make anyone go mad.
I look back at my own Catherine one last time before placing the book on her dresser and returning alone to my room where I belong.
~(~)~
The return of sensation and awareness doesn't take as long, nor come as much of a surprise the second time. I listen to everything around me and just breathe. My throat is dry and I have the urge to cough, but I also get the feeling that coughing would hurt.
When I hear my brother's voice nearby, I suddenly remember something. Mom and Dad were here before. Are they still here now?
And where is here?
Emmett's low voice reaches my ears again.
"Yeah, yeah I understand. I just know he's going to wake up and want some answers. Hell, we all do. My brother didn't take a bullet for no reason. That girl became a part of this family. Her safety means a lot to all of us."
That girl? Who? My girl?
My brown-eyed girl, beautiful girl...
My Bella...
With her name on my lips, and her image on my heart, I force my eyes open.
~(~)~
He's alive! :) (Did you really think he wouldn't be? LOL)
Thanks to SueBee0619 for getting this back to me a whole day earlier than I originally asked her to, and to Katmom, for so graciously volunteering to be a back-up in case Hurricane Irene caused any problems for Sue. To Adri, aka OneofEddie'sGirls, you rock, sista-friend! I'll see you on Skype. ;-)
To everybody else, I hope that all of you in the Eastern US survived Irene unscathed. I have, unfortunately, heard some sad reports of a few of our fandom losing their homes or other property. My heart and prayers go out to you all. 3 Thank you for the wonderful response to the last two chapters & all your reviews. I also wanted to say thank you for nominating "Arms" for an Emerging Swan Award for Best Bella & Edward! More info available at: http : / / emergingswanawards .blogspot .com/
Voting starts tomorrow!