7

The girl watched in awe as Esme pulled the car up into the driveway of a large white house with stone pathway and little white picket fence. There were blue shutters, green grass, and a large porch that had several wicker chairs and a porch swing. Tears filled her eyes at the familiarity of the house, reminding her of a dream she had once upon a time, back when she was happy and laughed.

Before he came in, before he took her away. A dream she told herself not to have anymore, because he didn't like when she had that dream. It made her cry, made her beg to go home, beg to be someone again. No, he didn't want her to be anything more than a nobody, a nothing.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she followed Carlisle and Esme up the stone pathway to the large porch. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out and wrapping her hand around the white pillar, almost expecting the house to vanish in front of her. Her eyes snapped to Carlisle as he unlocked the front door, pushing it open. He reached inside, and a light inside the house came on. She could see pictures on the walls, and a couple large sofas. Warm air floated from inside, as he took a step to the side and reached for her. She looked from his hand to the inside of the house.

"It's okay," Carlisle said. "You can trust me, trust us."

"Safe?" she asked, her voice trembling. "It's safe in there? You want to help me, right?"

"Yes, just help," he said again, stretching his hand out toward her.

She bit the inside of her lip before placing her hand in his, feeling his fingers wrap around hers.

Carlisle kept his body toward her as he stepped into the house backward, gently pulling her inside. Esme stepped in behind her, closing the door, causing her to gasp. She ripped her hand out of Carlisle's, taking two steps backward, hitting a table.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Esme said, putting her hands up before moving so that she was standing next to Carlisle, who immediately wrapped his arm around her. "So, um, this is our home. I can show you around, if you'd like?"

She felt her eyes fill with tears as she quickly shook her head.

"Okay," she murmured, and looked back at Carlisle. "I should go check on Beth."

"All right," Carlisle whispered.

Esme gave her a quick smile before she turned and hurried across the room, up the stairs, and disappeared. The girl wrapped her arms around herself as she walked over to the fire place, looking at the pictures sitting on the mantel. There were pictures of Carlisle and Esme at their wedding, she assumed. Pictures of him with Jasper and the other man at the hospital, the big one who held the woman named Rosie. Rosie thought she was her little sister, this Bella, but she couldn't be, could she? After all, she was a nobody, a nothing. She didn't belong to anyone, but him.

She couldn't stop herself from pulling one of the photographs down, holding it in front of her. Carlisle, Jasper, the big guy, and another boy, younger than them, wild dark hair and bright green eyes, were standing behind two people, a man and a woman. The man had the same dark hair as the big guy from the hospital, while the woman had Carlisle and Jasper's blond hair. All of them were smiling, wearing Christmas sweaters.

"Family?" she whimpered and looked over her shoulder, finding Carlisle still watching her.

"My brothers," he said, gesturing toward the picture. "Me, Jasper, the big one is Emmett, and the youngest is Edward. And, um, those are our parents, Elizabeth and Anthony."

"You look happy," she whispered, before turning back and placing the picture back on the mantel.

"We were," he replied.

She bit the inside of her lip again and looked back at him. "I'm tired."

"Okay," he said, smiling. "I can show you to the guest room, if you want?"

Fretting, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked at the front door. She should leave, protect them. He'll find her there, and they seem nice. Too nice. Feeling her heart race, she tried to make it to the door, but Carlisle was quicker than her, and he stepped in front of her, putting his hands up.

"Hey, it's . . . it's going to be okay."

"I can't . . . I can't . . ." She turned and started searching for another door, but stopped when she saw Esme standing at the bottom of the stairs. She was cradling a baby against her chest. "Beth?"

"Yes," Esme murmured, walking over to her. "This is our daughter. Her name is Elizabeth, but we . . . we call her Beth."

Peeking over at the tiny baby, she felt the urge to touch her, to place her hand on the baby's back, but she didn't. She knew better than to touch babies. You had to be gentle with them.

"Would you like to hold her?" Esme asked.

"Can I?" she asked, her eyes widening as she looked from Esme to Carlisle and back.

"Of course you can," Esme laughed. "Come sit on the couch, though."

The girl followed Esme over to the smaller of the couches and sat down. Esme settled next to her, while Carlisle sat on the edge of the coffee table. Esme leaned over and gently placed Beth in her arms. The baby stretched and opened her eyes, looking right at her. Her mouth opened, making a perfect 'O' before closing, yet her eyes stayed locked on her.

"I think she likes you," Carlisle said, and when the girl looked at him, he smiled. "Have you ever held a baby before?"

The girl frowned. "Once, but he took her away."

"Who did?" Carlisle asked, leaning toward her. "Who took her?"

The girl shook her head, knowing better than to answer. She shouldn't have mentioned him. He wouldn't have liked it. He didn't like anything she did. She wasn't a good girl, not anymore. The girl whimpered and placed the baby back in Esme's arms before scrambling to her feet. She looked back at the door, knowing she should leave, but not wanting to.

"Hey," Carlisle said, placing his hand on her shoulder, causing her to look back at him. "You're safe here. Nobody will hurt you here."

"Promise?" she whispered.

"We promise," he said, letting his hand slid down her arm to her hand. "It's late. Let me show you to your room, okay? We can get some sleep, and in the morning, we'll have breakfast."

"Pancakes?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"Lots of pancakes," Esme replied, standing and cradling Beth against her. "As many as you want."

Biting the inside of her lip, she looked back at the door before simply nodding.

"This way," Carlisle said, gesturing toward the stairs.

She followed him, with Esme and Beth behind her, up the stairs, down the hallway to the room at the end of the hall. Carlisle opened the door before releasing her hand and turning on the light. He stepped into the room, gesturing for her to follow, which she did. She looked around. It was a nice room. There was a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, but not much else except for a closet. The room was too bright, too . . . nice for her, she thought. But she kept that thought to herself. They were trying to be nice, too nice.

"There's some towels in the closet," Carlisle said. "The bathroom is across the hall. Mine and Esme's room is on the other side of the bathroom, so if you need anything, anything at all, you come to us, okay?"

"Safe, right?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Yes, you're safe here," Carlisle repeated.

The girl nodded and walked over, sitting on the side of the bed, and watched Carlisle and Esme walk out of the room, closing the door behind her. The bed was soft, too soft. The room too bright, too open for her. She scrambled to her feet and hurried to the window. She tried to open it, but it was jammed. Blowing out a heavy breath, she turned and looked around the room again, feeling uncomfortable in such a vast amount of space. She turned and yanked the closet open, falling to her knees and crawling into the farthest corner, pulling her knees up against her chest, and praying he wouldn't find her.

She liked these nice people.

—SfH—

Edward walked into the kitchen the next morning, finding Carlisle and Esme seated at the kitchen table with Beth perched in Carlisle's arms. He wasn't sure what time they got home, and to be honest, he didn't care. When Alice had called, saying they all needed to go to the hospital to support Carlisle and Jasper, Edward was quick to refuse. It wasn't that he didn't respect his brothers for trying to help the girl Carlisle almost hit with his car, he just didn't need to be there to do it. Edward didn't go to hospitals anymore.

"Morning," he mumbled, pouring himself a cup of coffee before falling into the chair across from Esme.

"Morning," Esme said, smiling before she stood up and walked around, giving him an one arm hugged before she pulled a mixing bowl out of the cabinet. "Thanks again for keeping Beth last night. Was she any trouble?"

"Loads," Edward snickered. "Running with scissors, playing with matches, just a complete and utter hellion."

"She can't even hold her own head up, jackass," Carlisle laughed, before shifting Beth so that she was cradled against him. "Seriously, we really appreciate it."

"You're welcome." Edward took a sip of his coffee, before asking, "So what happened with the girl?"

"Oh, um, you won't believe this, but Rosalie thinks she's her little sister," Carlisle said.

"What the fuck?" Edward exclaimed, causing Beth to start fussing. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"Its fine," he murmured, bouncing her a little to get her to settled down. "Let me put her down. I should probably check on her, too."

"Check on who?" Edward asked, looking from him to Esme. "The girl is here?"

"Yes, she is," Esme said, giving him a look. "And she's pretty scared, so don't go being an ass and scaring her, okay?"

"Why would you bring her here?" he asked, standing up. "She could be dangerous!"

"Shut the fuck up," Carlisle hissed, his eyes looking at the entrance of the kitchen before he turned back to Edward. "She's not dangerous, Edward. When you see her, you'll understand. She just . . . We couldn't leave her there, so we brought her here. At least until we find out if she really is Rosalie's sister, or not."

"Why does Rosalie think she's her sister?" he asked.

"She said she looks just like her little sister," Carlisle said. "Her uncle came down, has a picture, and I hate to admit it, but she does look a lot like Bella."

"Bella?" Edward raised an eyebrow. "That's her name?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "That's what Rosalie and James said, but she . . . she said she doesn't have a name."

Edward scoffed.

"Look come upstairs with me and meet her, okay? Just remember that she's been through a lot, and she's already scared, so don't be a dick."

"Like I'm ever a dick," Edward muttered, but followed Carlisle out of the kitchen, and upstairs. Carlisle placed Beth in her crib before leading Edward down the hallway to the guest room. He looked back at Edward before he knocked on the door, but when nobody answered, he slowly pushed the door open. The bed clearly hadn't been slept in and the light was still on.

"I don't understand," Carlisle murmured, walking over to the window, which didn't budge. "Where is she?"

"She probably bailed," Edward said, crossing his arms in front of him. "Have you looked around? Made sure she didn't steal anything?"

Carlisle groaned and turned back toward him, but stopped when he looked at the closet. He threw Edward a glance before he turned the doorknob, opening the closet.

"There you are," he said, kneeling in the entryway. "Why are you in here?"

But the girl didn't answer, and the closet was too dark for Edward to see her.

"Come on," Carlisle said, stretching his hand out to her. "Esme's making you pancakes. I bet you're hungry, aren't you?"

"No syrup," the softest, purest voice Edward had ever heard trickled out of the closet, taking him back.

"Heck no," Carlisle laughed. "Come on, honey. Let's go downstairs, okay?"

The girl must have agreed, as Edward saw a tiny, pale hand shoot out, laying in the middle of Carlisle's palm. He scooted backward as he stood up, slowly leading the most beautiful, fragile girl Edward had ever seen out of the closet. She tilted her head back, looking directly at him, and smiled, and he found himself lost in a pair of dark brown eyes.

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