6

She walked back into room eight, her heart racing, and her legs feeling weak. She slumped against the wall, thinking about what the woman, the one who called herself Rosie, had said.

Bella.

That's what Rosie had called her. Bella, and her sister, but who was Bella? Not her. She was nothing, nobody. That's what he told her all of the time, but not her. The woman, this Rosie, with long dark hair, brown eyes — she called her Bella, called her sister.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered, looking around the room.

She needed to get out of there before he found her. Found them. He would hurt them, hurt her pancake man and then she'd never get pancakes again, but how could she escape?

They were guarding the door, and there weren't any windows. She needed to get away from them, to keep them safe she told herself. They seemed . . . nice. Too nice. Nice people only wanted to use her, to hurt her. He had been nice before that night. He had given her candy and let her play with his puppy, but then he crept into her bedroom in the middle of the night, telling her to be quiet, telling her that she was nothing, nobody before locking her in the closet. And there had been screaming and crying. He wasn't nice anymore.

The door to the room opened again and the pancake man came in. No, Carlisle. He said his name was Carlisle. He had two more containers in his hands, and she could smell the pancakes, making her mouth water. He smiled and used his foot to close the door.

"Here you go, as promised," he said, placing the containers on the bed and stepping backward.

She kept her eyes locked on him, noticing the way he watched her, like he was afraid she would disappear, as she walked over and picked them up. She walked backward until she hit the wall, and then slid down to the floor, keeping her knees in front of her. She tore open the container and grabbed the first pancake, warm in her hand, and shoved it into her mouth.

"Carlisle," she mumbled around the food. "That's your name."

"It is," he said, nodding as he against the bed, just a few feet away from her. "You really like pancakes, don't you?"

She nodded, shoving more into her mouth, and then pointing at him. "Carlisle."

"Yes, I'm Carlisle," he said again, but before he could say anything else, the door to the room opened again and Jasper walked in with a man with dark hair, dark eyes. Carlisle scrambled to his feet.

"I'm Carlisle Cullen, Jasper and Emmett's brother," he said, sticking his hand out to the man.

There was something about this new man, something familiar, like something she had seen in a dream.

"James Swan," the man murmured, shaking Carlisle's hand before looking back at her. "I didn't believe her, but . . . It's really her."

"Are you sure?" Jasper asked, and when the man nodded, he asked, "How can you be sure?"

"Because she looks just her mother."

"Mother?" she asked, drawing their attention to her. "I have a mother?"

"Of course you do," the man, James as he called himself, said before stepping toward her.

But she didn't know him, and she found herself screaming, pushing past him, Jasper, and Carlisle, and out the door. The woman who called herself Rosie stood in the hallway with a large man with brown hair, Alice, and another woman, this one with long caramel colored hair.

"Bella, it's okay," Rosie said, reaching for her, but she pulled away, stepping backward, but screamed again when she felt someone grab her hips.

"No, no, no, no, I didn't do anything. I didn't tell them anything!" she pleaded, falling to the floor and placing her arms over her head, waiting for his blows. But they never came.

"Hey, it's okay," Carlisle said, moving so that he was sitting on the floor next to her. "Nobody here is going to hurt you. We want to help you."

"Help?" she asked. "Help me?"

"Yeah, we all just want to help you," he said, slowly reaching out and placing his hand on her arm. "Can you tell us your name?"

"I don't have a name," she whispered, shifting so that she was sitting up in front of him, her knees pulled up against her chest. "I'm nothing. I'm nobody."

"No, no, that's not true," Carlisle said, keeping his hand on her arm. She shook her head, causing her hair to hang around her face as she looked around at everyone. "Hey, it's just me, okay? Just me."

She shifted her eyes to Rosie, then to the man named James, then Jasper, Alice, the man with Rosie, the woman with caramel colored hair before shaking her head and scrambling to her feet, backing into the room once more. "I want to leave. I don't like it here anymore."

Carlisle scrambled to his feet, giving Jasper a look before he said, "Okay, you wait in there, and then, I'll take you wherever you want to go, all right? Just give me few minutes. Finish your pancakes."

"I like pancakes," she murmured, before sticking her foot out and closing the door behind her. She walked over to the corner and picked up the container of pancakes, shoving as much as she could into her mouth.

—SfH—

The second the door was closed, Carlisle slumped against the wall, trying to keep the bile from spilling out of his mouth. Esme was next to him immediately, holding him. That girl, Bella if Rosalie and James were right, had been through Hell. Worse than Hell. He needed to help her, but how?

He turned to James. "Are you sure that girl is your niece?"

James nodded, his lips trembling. "My brother Charlie and his wife Renee were murdered eight years ago when an intruder broke into their house. Both Charlie and Renee had defensive wounds on their arms and hands, but the person who killed them . . . Well, he didn't take it easy on them."

Rosalie cried out, and when Carlisle looked at her, he saw her in Emmett's arms.

"Their youngest daughter, Isabella, or Bella as we called her since the day she was born, was missing," James continued, reaching for Rosalie who immediately fell into her uncle's arms. "At first, they thought maybe she had heard the intruder and got out, ran off into the woods behind the house to hide, but it didn't take long to figure out that she had been the target of the intrusion. Most of her stuff was left behind, but there were some clothes missing, and her teddy bear. Renee had given it to her for her first Christmas. She never went anywhere without that bear. The police sent out an Amber Alert, but they never found her."

"And you think that girl is Isabella?" Jasper asked, grabbing the back of his neck.

James reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, fishing out a picture before handing it to Carlisle. "My brother Charlie and Renee, Rosie, and . . . Bella. They had these taken just a few months before . . ." James brought his hand up to his mouth. "That girl is my niece, Jasper."

In the picture, Charlie and Renee were standing behind the two little girls. Charlie had the same dark hair that Rosalie and the girl had, while Renee had blond hair. It was clear that the older girl was Rosalie, but while the younger girl did resemble their girl, eight years had changed her a lot. The little girl in the picture was fuller, chubbier, clearly still hanging onto her baby fat. Their girl was thin, sickly, but she looked eerily like Renee.

"There's no doubt that she looks like this little girl," Jasper murmured, taking the photo from Carlisle. "You said the police have a sample of her DNA on file?"

"From her toothbrush," he murmured. "And they have her prints, too, from a school project."

"I'll reach out, see if they can't get those to us A.S.A.P.," he said, nodding. "We need to get a sample from her," he added, looking back at the door. "Not sure how we are going to manage that, though."

"I'll get it," Carlisle whispered. "But we need to figure out what we are going to do with her? We can't keep her here for much longer, Jay."

"I know," he said. "Technically, we could arrest her for assaulting dumbass over there," he added, gesturing toward the police officer who had manhandled her, and when Rosalie started to protest, he put his hand up, stopping her. "But putting her in a jail cell isn't going to help her trust us, either."

"She'll come home with us," Esme said, drawing everyone's attention to her. "She trusts Carlisle, and I don't know. We'll take her to the house."

"But what about Beth?" Carlisle fretted.

"She won't hurt Beth," Esme said, sounding more confident than Carlisle felt. "She needs us, needs you, Carlisle. At least until we find out for sure who she is."

Carlisle nodded, shifting his eyes to Jasper. "What do you think?"

"I think it's gamble, but Esme's right. She seems to trust you, Carlisle, but until we can match her DNA to Bella," he said, gesturing toward Rosalie and James, "we don't have much choice. If we let her go, we won't find her again."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Carlisle turned and reached for the door handle, stopping when he felt Rosalie's hand on his shoulder.

"I'll help," she whispered. "Please, let me help."

Carlisle simply nodded before he pushed the door to the room open, finding the girl crouched in the corner again. She'd eaten all of the pancakes, the empty containers were stacked next to her. Her eyes shifted from him to Rosalie, her shoulders tensing. Thankfully, Rosalie didn't launch herself at her, as she had before. Carlisle turned and grabbed a single use Q-tip and pulled on a pair of gloves before, ripping open the package and turning back to the girl, who was watching his every movement with guarded eyes.

"Remember me telling you that I want to help you?" he asked, slowly stepping toward her before he knelt just a couple feet from her.

She slowly nodded, her eyes flickering from the Q-tip to Rosalie and back to Carlisle.

"I need to use this," he said, gesturing toward the Q-tip, "inside your mouth. I'm taking a DNA sample. Do you know what that is?"

She shook her head.

"DNA is what makes you, well you," he said, smiling. "See, Rosalie here believes that you are her little sister."

"Bella," the girl murmured, but then shook her head. "Not Bella. Nobody."

"Well, she thinks you are Bella," he said. "And, um, by taking this sample, we can know for sure. Is that okay? It won't hurt, I promise."

"Not Bella," she whispered, looking back at Rosalie. "Nobody."

Rosalie whimpered, but Carlisle ignored her.

"You're definitely somebody, okay? We just . . . we just want to help," he said.

"That will help?" she asked, shifting her eyes to the Q-tip.

"Yes."

The girl bit the inside of her lip before nodding and opening her mouth. Carlisle's hands were shaking as he reached over and used the Q-tip to collect as much saliva as he could before placing it inside the plastic bag. The girl clamped her mouth shut, her arms wrapping around her knees protectively.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he asked, sliding backward before standing.

"And then we leave?" she asked. "You said you'd take me away from here."

Carlisle nodded. "You're going to come to my house. With me, and my wife. Is that okay?"

"Can I have more pancakes?"

Carlisle smiled. "All the pancakes you can eat. I promise."

The girl nodded, her eyes shifting to Rosalie for a minute before she looked away. "Not Bella. Nobody, Nothing. Not Bella."

Carlisle reached for Rosalie's hand before pulling her out of the room, finding Jasper waiting with an evidence bag. He dropped the Q-tip inside before discarding his gloves, and pulling the door closed behind him.

"How long will it take to get the results?"

"A few days," Jasper said. "I'm calling in a few favors, trying to get it made a priority, but I can't promise anything."

"Okay." Carlisle blew out a deep breath before reaching for Esme, who immediately was at his side. "You should meet her, before we take her to the house."

Esme simply nodded, so they turned and walked back into the room. The girl tilted her head to the side, looking from Carlisle to Esme, a frown tugging at her lips. Esme's grip on his hand tightened, and when he looked at her, he saw the tears filling her eyes.

"This is my wife," Carlisle said, squatting in front of the girl again. "Her name is Esme."

"Esme," the girl repeated. "Pretty Esme."

"It's nice to meet you," Esme whispered, kneeling next to Carlisle. "We'd love it if you came to stay with us for a few days. I hear you like pancakes, and not to brag, but I made a damn good pancake."

"No syrup," the girl grimaced.

"Of course not," Esme said, softly, before reaching her hand out to the girl. "Will you come with us?"

"Help me?" she asked, her eyes flickering between them. "Not hurt me, right?"

"Only help you," Carlisle promised. "Never hurt you."

The girl pressed her lips together before she nodded and placed her tiny, bony hand in Esme's, allowing her to help her to her feet. She immediately released her hand, scooting so that she was standing behind Carlisle. He and Esme shared a look before they walked out of the room with her behind him. As everyone looked from them to her, Carlisle felt the girl grab the back of his shirt. He turned and wrapped his arms around her, causing her to stiffen before relaxing against him, her arms coming up around him.

"Carlisle," Rosalie whimpered, her eyes pleading with him.

"I've got her, Rosalie," he promised. "She'll be safe."

Rosalie fell into Emmett's arms, who immediately embraced her. Carlisle felt for her, only imagining how hard it had to be for her to believe this girl was her sister, only to be pushed away. Carlisle gave Jasper a look before he and Esme shuffled the girl down the hallway, past James and Alice, the police officers who had hung around, the nurses who gawked at the poor girl.

Once they were outside, Carlisle almost expected the girl to take off running, but she didn't. Her arms tightened around him, though her head moved, like she was searching the area. Maybe she was. Esme opened the backdoor of her car, giving him a look that clearly said she was driving. The girl leapt into the car, and curled up against the seat, her eyes still searching the area as Carlisle climbed in next to her. The drive to the house was tense. The girl never relaxed, never spoke. Carlisle worried that they were making a mistake, inviting this young, fragile girl into their home. They had a daughter of their own to protect.

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