52

Edward was worried. That felt like the understatement of the century, but Edward was worried about Bella. After she ran out of Ben and Angela Cheney's house four nights ago, with him and everyone chasing, she refused to speak to him. Not really not speak to him, just didn't tell him why she ran out, why she refused to talk about Hope. They'd all tried to get her to talk to them, but she simply shook her head. And Edward was worried, because if she shutting down, he would lose her forever, and she was all that was keeping him together.

Edward had spent the last three years keeping his brothers at arm's length. It was easier, better if he didn't let them in, that way if he lost them, too, it wouldn't hurt so much. That's the lie he had told himself over and over for the last one thousand, one hundred, and ninety-five days. They tried. He wouldn't deny that they tried. They each took turns spending time with him, urging him to let them in, trying their hardest to get him to let them help him. They used to be so close, but after the accident, it was hard to lean on them, to let them take care of him.

He wanted his mom and his dad back. And now he wanted Bella. He wanted her to be okay, to love him back, and he wasn't sure she ever would.

"Hey."

Edward resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked over to the doorway of his bedroom, where he was laying on his bed with Claire De Lune playing on repeat, as it had been since they got back to the house four nights ago. She was in his closet, and he was on the bed, as they had been since they got back to the house four nights ago. As he had multiple times a day, Carlisle was standing in said doorway, trying to get him to talk to him, get her to talk to him.

"Get out," Edward said, dryly, but of course, Carlisle didn't move.

His eyes shifted from him to the door to the closet, which was barely cracked open. Enough to make him feel better about her being in there, but enough to give her the chance to process her feelings. Marcus had said they had to be patient with her, give her the time to process, but other than Edward, nobody seemed to understand. Hell, even he didn't understand.

"I'm worried," Carlisle said, taking a step into the room, but stopping when Edward scrambled off the bed, positioning himself between his brother and the door to the closet. "I'm not going to hurt her, Edward."

"I know, I'm sorry," Edward murmured. "She just . . . she's not ready to talk to you, Carlisle. Or anyone."

Sighing, Carlisle nodded before he took a step back into the hallway. "We're here, Edward. For her, and . . . and for you, too, okay? Just remember that we're here."

Edward nodded. "Thanks."

Though he could tell that Carlisle wasn't sure he should leave, he turned and walked back downstairs. Edward walked over and closed the door to his bedroom, placing his hands on the door and blowing out a heavy breath. He heard the sound of the closet door opening, and when he turned, he found Bella peeking out.

"He's gone," Edward said, quietly.

She nodded.

"I need to get out of here for a while," he said, turning and leaning against the door to his bedroom. "Would you . . . would you go with me?"

Bella bit the inside of her lip, her eyes shifting from him to the door and back into the closet. "Where would we go?" she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Edward smiled and stretched his hand out to her. "Some place special, some place safe."

"Safe?" she whispered, sliding just a little more inside the closet. "Just you and me?"

"Just us," he murmured. "Just us, sweetheart."

Though he could see the fear and doubt in her eyes, Bella nodded before she slipped out of the closet, sliding her fingers across the palm of his hand. A sense of relief filled him, though it only lasted a minute. He wrapped his arm around her as he pushed away from the door and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it and opening the door. She tensed but allowed him to lead her into the hallway, downstairs, into the living room, where everyone was sitting in awkward silence. And he did mean everyone. Carlisle and Esme, Emmett and Rosalie, Jasper and Alice, James, and Marcus. They all looked over, Rosalie, Carlisle, and Jasper immediately scrambling to their feet, which just made Bella tense and move so that she was standing behind him, her hand fisting the back of his T-shirt.

"We'll be back in a little while," he said, clearing his throat. "We have our phones, so . . ."

"Bella," Rosalie started, but stopped when Marcus stood up, placing his hand on her arm.

"Thank you for letting us know, Edward," he said, moving so that he was standing between all of them and giving him a subtle nod of approval. "Have a good time."

"Thanks," he muttered, reaching behind him and wrapping his arm around Bella as he stepped toward the door.

He could feel everyone watching them as they crossed the living room. He grabbed the keys to his car and led her out onto the porch, closing the door behind them with more force than was needed, but at the same time, maybe it wasn't more force. They were smothering her, them.

He lead her down to his car — a silver Volvo that had belonged to his father. Edward inherited it after his parents were killed, and though he hated driving it, it was the only connection to his father he had left, so he took it. Once she was inside the car, he hurried around to the driver's side, sliding in behind the wheel. Bella was curled up in a ball, her knees pulled against her chest and she had her arms wrapped around them.

He wanted to reassure that everything was okay, that it would be okay, yet he couldn't. Bella lived in a world where nothing was okay, where bad men won every day. Sam Uley had taken more than just her daughter from her, he'd taken any hope she had of ever being a normal, happy woman.

So instead of feeding her lies, he started the car and pulled away from the house, driving them toward the highway. They drove in silence until he took an exit, and she looked over at him.

"We should run away," she whispered.

His eyes widened as he looked from the road to her and back. "Where would we go?"

Bella shrugged her shoulders. "Anywhere other than here."

Edward smiled. "Somewhere it doesn't rain seventy-five percent of the time."

She frowned. "I like the rain. It's cleansing, like getting a fresh start, if that's possible."

"Never thought of it that way," he replied, taking a left hand turn and driving two blocks before he pulled the car into a small parking lot. "My mom used to bring me here," he said, gesturing toward the park in front of them. "It's, um, called the Olympic Sculpture Park. It's my favorite place in the city. Will you let me share it with you?"

Bella bit the inside of her lip before she nodded.

Relief filled him as he hurried out of the car to her side, opening the door and offering her his hand. Her hand was shaking as she placed it in his, letting him help her out of the car. Her eyes shifted around them, and he knew she was scared to be out in the open, vulnerable, exposed.

"We can go home, if you want," he said, causing her to snap her eyes to his. "If . . . if you're scared."

"I don't want to leave," she whispered. "And I am scared, but I . . . I want to share this with you, Edward, because it's important to you, and you are important to me."

"I am?" he asked, breathlessly.

Bella nodded. "Very important."

Edward smiled and slipped his arm around her as they made their way into the park. There was always a peacefulness that filled him when he was there, a sense of contentment. His mother always made him stop and tell her about each piece, every detail. It had been their place, and he wanted desperately to share it with Bella.

They stopped next to a large pool with two posts in the middle. On top of one of the posts was a sculpture of a man, nude, with his arms stretched out in front of him. On the other post stood a child, also nude, with their arms reaching out toward him. When he was younger, he had been fascinated with the sculpture, but now, he saw the ugliness behind it, the crude, disgusting image.

"He was nice," Bella said, drawing his attention down to her. "Before that night, he was nice. He'd come over and play with me, give me candy and he had a puppy, big and fluffy, and he'd let me play him. He was nice, but Daddy said he couldn't come over anymore. Said he was too big to be playing hide and seek with me, or be around all the time. Boys his age had no business being around little girls, I heard Daddy say. I didn't understand, Edward. I didn't understand, because he was nice. But then he wasn't nice anymore," she cried. "He was mean, and he hurt me, he . . . he stole everything from me."

"I know, sweetheart," Edward whispered, tightening his arm around her.

"You don't know," she cried, turning and grabbing the front of his shirt. "You don't know, Edward. You don't know!"

"You're right," he said, bringing one hand up to her cheek. "You're right I don't know."

"I tried to stop him from taking her," she wept. "I fought him. For the first time since he crawled through my bedroom, I fought him. I . . . I kicked him and hit him and pushed him, but he didn't care. He hit me back, kicked me back, and locked me away while he took her from me. When he came back, he said if I ever fought him again, he'd get rid of me, too. And I didn't. I never fought him again. I let him hurt me because without her, I didn't have any reason to live, Edward."

"But you did," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. "You fought by not fighting, Bella. You lived because you knew Hope needed you."

"She doesn't need me!" Bella exclaimed, yanking herself out of his arms. "She doesn't need me, Edward, because she has them! Ben and Angela . . . they're her parents, not me. I'll never be her mom, because he stole her from me."

Edward opened his mouth to argue with her, but he clamped his lips shut before sighing. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you'll never get to . . . get to raise her, but that doesn't mean you're not her mom, Bella. You will always be her mom. Always, and Sam Uley doesn't get to take that away from you. Not again."

"I love her," Bella sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself. "I love her so much, Edward, but I can't be another person in her life that hurts her. Not when she has parents who make her happy. I can't take her from them, the way he took her from me."

"What are you saying? You don't want to get her back? Is that what you're saying?"

"Of course I want her back," Bella wept, wrapping her arms around herself. "But . . ." She shook her head, blowing out a thick, heavy breath as she tried to calm down. "I was holding her on my lap the other night, Edward, and she smelled so clean, so amazing, and her skin was so soft. She kept asking me to read book after book after book to her, and I loved every second of it. I did, and for a moment, I thought I could do it, you know? I could be her mom, and take care of her, but then I saw the way Angela and Ben were watching us, the sadness in their eyes. They're amazing people, and they've let me see her, take care of her, but they're her parents, and even though it breaks my heart, I can't take her from them. Hope . . . Vanessa deserves parents who can give her everything, and that's not me, Edward. I'm a sixteen year old girl, who didn't make it past second grade. What kind of life can I give her?"

"A life full of love," he said, taking two steps toward her and placing her hands on either side of her face. "Maybe you're right, Bella. Maybe they can give her more than you can right now, but you can love her. You can be a part of her life, and let them raise her. You can be her mother, and let them raise her while you . . . you heal and grow. You know, we can teach you, help you get your education. We . . . I love you, Bella, and I will do everything I can to give you the life you deserve."

Bella's eyes fluttered to a close, her hands coming up to cover his. "Why do you love me, Edward?"

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. "I love you because you're amazing and beautiful and you're a fighter, Bella. Fight for the life you deserve. Fight for your Mom and Dad, for Rosalie. Fight for Hope, sweetheart, because there is room in her life for you, for me, for all of us, including Ben and Angela."

"What if she finds out that her . . . her father is a monster? She's too good, innocent, pure to ever be connected to . . . to Sam Uley, Edward. If she's with me, she'll always be the child of the little girl from Forks, the girl they splashed all over the television. I don't want that life for her, I don't want people knowing the only reason she was born was because her father . . . Sam Uley raped me, Edward. He raped me," she cried, her fingers tightening around his.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could as she cried, as for the first time, probably ever, Bella Swan stopped being a victim, and started being a survivor, even if she didn't realize it yet.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! Our sweet Bella has come a long way, but will she be able to survive the trial?