8

She heard when the door to the room opened, causing her to pull her knees tighter against her chest. She heard Carlisle talking to someone, asking where she was. She should have left last night. Snuck downstairs, out the front door, but every time she found herself ready to leave, she stopped herself. Why? Why couldn't she leave these nice people? Why were they helping her? She was a nothing, a nobody.

"I don't understand," Carlisle murmured. "Where is she?"

"She probably bailed," a male voice said, and she couldn't explain why it sent shivers down her spine, why she needed to see who was speaking, but then she heard him say, "Have you looked around? Made sure she didn't steal anything?"

Of course, they would think she was thief. They wouldn't be wrong. She had stolen before, but only when she had to. When he told her to, or when she was really hungry, really cold. She knew stealing was wrong, she just couldn't remember who told her it was wrong. It was another memory that seemed more of a dream than real.

The door to the closet opened a moment later and her pancake man stood there, a look of relief on his face. Why was he relieved, though?

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

How could she explains why she was hiding in the closet? That the room they had left her in was too big, too bright, and too nice for her. No, she would never be able to explain that, so instead, she just sat there, staring at her pancake man.

"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," she murmured, her tongue snaking out to wet her lip. She was hungry, especially for pancakes.

"Heck no," Carlisle laughed, and it sounded so carefree and happy. How she envied him. "Come on, honey. Let's go downstairs, okay?"

Though she wasn't sure she should trust him, she couldn't keep herself from reaching out and placing her hand in the middle of his palm. He wrapped his fingers around her hand before standing up, gently pulling her to her feet. Her eyes were wide as she stepped out of the closet, the room even brighter with the morning light coming through the window.

She tilted her head backward to look around, but stopped when she spotted the man in the room with them. Edward, Carlisle had named him last night when she looked at his photograph. Edward with the wild dark hair and eyes as green as emeralds. She smiled, though she wasn't sure why she did. Especially because he was just staring at her, the thief.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," he echoed in return. He seemed to hesitate before he stretched his arm toward her, offering her his hand. "I'm Edward."

"Edward," she murmured, looking down at his hand. "You're his brother. You, Carlisle, Emmett, and Jasper."

Edward shifted his eyes to Carlisle before nodding. "That's us. I didn't get your name, though."

The girl frowned and pulled her hand out of Carlisle's. "I don't have a name. I . . . I'm nobody. I'm nothing."

"Everyone has a name," Edward said, stretching his arm out toward her again. "Now, I hear you really like pancakes. I do, too. In fact, I bet I can eat more than you."

She shifted her eyes to Carlisle, who nodded, before looking back at Edward. "I don't want syrup."

"Me either," he said, smiling.

She bit the inside of her lip before lifting her arm, placing her hand in his. There was something comforting about the way his fingers felt wrapped around hers, something that tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn't explain why, but the feel of his hand felt good, natural, almost normal.

"Come on," he said, gently tugging her toward the door to the bedroom.

She found herself following him across the room, down the hallway, taking each step with care. Edward never took his eyes off her, and she never stopped looking at him. The picture hadn't done him justice, she thought. He was more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen.

When they entered the kitchen, she smiled when she saw the table covered in pancakes. She looked at Edward, who laughed and motioned for her to hurry. She released his hand and hurried to the table, grabbing two handfuls of pancakes and shoving them in her mouth, before looking up, finding Esme, Carlisle, and Edward just staring at her.

She shoved more pancake into her mouth before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Edward gave Carlisle a look before he walked around the table and sat next to her. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he grabbed one of the pancakes and took a bite.

"Good, right?" he asked.

She nodded, and shoved more into her mouth.

"Do you want something to drink?" Esme asked, pulling her eyes away from Edward's. "I've got milk, orange juice, apple juice."

"Milk," she whispered. "Please."

Esme smiled and walked over to the refrigerator and pulled it open, but before she could grab the milk, the doorbell rang.

Feeling her heart race, she scrambled to her feet, and hurried out of the room. Had he found her? Had he come for her again? She knew she should have ran last night. Now, she had put these nice people at risk. He would hurt them, like he did the night he locked her in the closet, when they screamed and begged him to leave her alone.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she fell to the floor, crawling across the room, squeezing herself under an end table next to one of the couches.

"Get the door, I'll take care of her," Edward said, and a moment later, he was sitting on the floor in front of her. "Hey, it's okay. Nobody is going to hurt you here."

She didn't believe him, though. She heard the door get pulled open, followed by Carlisle saying, "What the fuck are you doing here so early? Get your asses in here, already!"

"Sorry," a deep voice murmured. "She was worried."

"Is she okay?" She recognized that voice from the night before. The woman named Rosie.

"She's fine," Carlisle said, and a moment later, she saw him kneel behind Edward. "It's okay, honey. It's just Rosalie and Emmett. They were at the hospital last night, remember?"

She nodded. "Rosie thinks I'm Bella."

"Yeah, she does," Carlisle said. "Can you come out from under there?"

"Safe here, right?"

"Yeah, it's safe here," Edward said, causing her to shift her eyes back to him. He scooted backward and held his hand out to her. "I'll help you."

"Help me?" she asked. "You want to help me."

"I do," he whispered. "I really do."

She bit the inside of her lip before she reached out and placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her out from under the table. Rosie and Emmett were standing on the other side of the couch, him with her in his arms. She was crying, watching her with a look that seemed so familiar. Edward stood up with her by his side, her hand still wrapped in his.

She turned and leaned against him before pointing at Emmett. "You're big. Too big."

Emmett smiled, while Carlisle and Edward laughed. "Story of my life, Be . . . honey," he said, tightening his around Rosie. "We didn't mean to scare you. We were just worried about you."

"I want pancakes," she mumbled, not liking the way everyone was watching her, staring at her.

"Okay, let's go." Edward squeezed her hand. "We have a bet for me to win, right?"

She nodded. "I can eat more."

"I don't think so," he scoffed, but kept himself between her and Emmett and Rosie, which she was thankful for.

Just before they walked into the kitchen, she looked over her shoulder, finding Rosie watching her with yearning. Why did it make her heart hurt to see her sad?

—SfH—

She won. She knew she would. She loved pancakes. Edward tried to keep up, though he gave up not long after they returned to the kitchen. Esme put a glass of milk in front of each of them before she walked into the living to talk to Carlisle, Emmett, and Rosie. She knew why. They were going to kick her out. She'd already caused too much trouble, that's why she ate as many pancakes as she could. Who knew the next time she would get any?

Especially when he found her. And he would. He always did. Feeling anxious, she pushed the chair away from the table, causing Edward to stand up, offering her his hand. She placed hers in his, once again feeling something odd, something comforting. She would miss him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She shook her head, before tugging her hand out of his and pushing him out of her way. She ran out of the kitchen and into the living room, going for the front door, but it was locked, and she couldn't figure out how to get it unlocked. A hand came down on her shoulder, and she screamed, falling to the floor.

"Don't hurt me! I didn't tell them anything!" she cried, curling up in a ball.

"Hey, calm down," Edward said, and when she peeked through her arms, she found him pulling Emmett away from her. He saw in front of her, slowly reaching out and lifting her into his lap. "Nobody here is going to hurt you."

"Not safe. Not safe," she cried, grabbing the front of his T-shirt. "He'll find me, find you. He . . . He . . . He'll kill me."

"Who?" Edward asked. "Who will find you?"

She shook her head, peeking over his shoulder. Carlisle and Esme were wrapped in each other's arms, but it was Rosie who drew her attention. She was sobbing, leaning over the back of the couch with her arms around herself, like she was trying to keep herself together. This sweet, beautiful woman who wanted her to be her sister, but was she? Could she be this Bella? Was it possible? She hadn't been anyone in so long, too long. He told her all the time how she was nothing, a nobody. Was she someone? Was she Bella?

"You can trust us, sweetheart," Edward said, causing her to look up at him.

She shook her head before detangling herself out of his arms, scooting backward so that she was crouched in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest.

"He said I could trust him, too. He was a liar."

"Who?" Rosie asked, climbing off the couch and walking over, kneeling next to Edward. "I know you don't believe me when I say that you're Bella, that you're my little sister, but you are, okay? You were taken from me a long time ago when someone broke into our house and killed our mom and dad. I've been looking for you for a long time, Bella. A long, long time."

"He hurt them," she whispered. "He came for me, and he hurt them."

Rosie nodded, her years falling down her face. "He hurt them a lot, Bella."

"Bella," she sobbed, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "My name is Bella."

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