9

". . . My life is out of control, Edward, and I don't know how to get that control back. And I need it back."

"You let us help you."

Bella and Edward looked toward the doorway of her bedroom, where they found Charlie leaning with his arms folded in front of him.

"Bee, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I was just trying to protect you."

Bella nodded, her eyes shifting to Edward. "Can you give us a minute alone?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, his eyes shifting between them before he turned and walked out of the room.

Even though he left the door open, she hurried across the room and closed it, sighing before she turned and looked at Charlie. The tall, virile man had been the only person she could trust, the one person who never made her feel like a burden. Even Rosalie got tired of always having to keep her from losing control, from letting her demons get the better of her. She would deny it, of course, insist that she would do anything for Bella, and maybe she would, but she knew Rosalie held herself back from having a life because of Bella.

"Come here, Bee," Charlie said, sitting on the side of the bed and reaching for her.

"I'm okay right here," she said, leaning against the thick door and sliding to the floor, keeping her eyes locked on his. "You lied to me."

"I did," he admitted, standing up and walking over, sitting on the floor next to her. He bent his knees up in front of him, resting his arms on top of them. "When Carlisle and I went in undercover, Bee, we knew it was going to be bad, but I wasn't prepared for what I learned about the Brothers. The things they did to you, to Edward, and the other children."

"They touched me, didn't they?" she asked unable to keep her voice from breaking.

Charlie barely nodded. "More than touch."

Her eyes closed as she released a shaky breath. "They held me down, and touched me, and . . . and . . ."

"Bee," he whispered, reaching over and covering her hand with his.

She snapped her eyes open. "They did, didn't they? They held me down and touched me and did other things to me, didn't they?"

"Hey, calm down, honey," he murmured, placing her hand over his heart. "Deep breaths, Bee. Take a deep breath for me."

"I knew. I think a part of me has always known."

"When I got you out, when you woke up with no memories, Bee, I hoped like hell that you wouldn't be saddled with all that trauma. I really did. You were so scared, so . . . fragile, I just wanted you to have the chance for a normal life."

"Normal?" she whimpered. "I've never had a normal life, Charlie."

"No, I suppose you haven't."

"Tell me about them," she cried, leaning her head on his shoulder. "My . . . Tell me about my parents."

"I don't know much," he admitted, lifting her hand to his lips. "Your mom was born in a small hospital in Port Angeles. Her family moved to Forks when she was three. Phil was born in Forks, from what I found out after I got you out. They met in kindergarten and were best friends until they got into high school. We don't know much after they started seeing each other before their freshman year of high school, just that people said they changed suddenly, like overnight almost. The police report from when they ran away said they had been busted a few times for possession, and they'd been expelled from school for dealing. One morning in early September, they ran away. Both of their parents insisted were sure that something horrible had happened to them, that they'd gotten lured away by human traffickers, or worse. Turns out they weren't too far off. When they returned, they pushed their families away, refused to have any kind of contact with them at all, Bee. It wasn't even until their bodies were found that they knew your mom had been pregnant with you."

"What did my parents look like?" she whimpered.

"Renee had the same brown eyes you do, and you have your father's smile. They were just kids, Bee, kids who somewhere along the way found themselves in a place they didn't belong. They tried to get out, tried to free themselves, but the Brothers . . . they didn't let them go. They didn't let you go."

"Do you think they loved me?"

"Of course they did!" he said, turning and pressing his lips against the top of her head. "Bee, they died for you. They fought for you, fought to keep you out of the Gathering of Twilight, but the brothers . . . they refused to let you go, Bee."

"I'm scared, Charlie," she wept. "I'm so scared. All the time. I just . . ." She shuddered as she whimpered the feel of hands roaming over her body again had her recoiling against the door. "Make it stop!"

"Hey, they aren't here," Charlie soothed, releasing her hand and moving so that he was kneeling in front of her. He grabbed her hands and placed them in the middle of his chest before placing his hands on either side of her face. "Come on, honey, take a deep breath for me."

She did as he instructed, the air thick and heavy in her chest. Her lips parted as she exhaled.

"Again, honey."

And one more times, she inhaled a deep, ragged breath through her nose and exhaled through her lips.

"Better?"

"Not really," she whispered, her eyes closing. "I'm glad you're here."

"That mean you forgive me?"

"Not entirely," she admitted. "But I know you would never hurt me on purpose, Charlie. Just . . . just don't lie to me anymore."

"I promise." Charlie leaned backward. "Are you ready to go back out there?"

She shook her head. "But I guess we have to, huh?"

"We don't have to," he said, smiling. "We can keep hiding in here, if you want."

"I kind of do, but he said he thinks he knows who my stalker is, so . . ."

Charlie frowned and nodded before he pushed himself to his feet and reached for her. Bella placed her hands in his and let him pull her off the floor. "Honey, I'm here now, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Bella wanted to believe him, and a part of her did. He was her father. At least the only father she had ever known. But a part of her, the part that spent night after night after night focusing on her music to keep from sleeping, from feeling them holding her down and touching her, wondered how he could make her that promise seeing as he has spent the last twenty-five years telling her he had no idea why she freaked out when people touched her, she wasn't sure she could believe him. Could she trust anyone?

Charlie wrapped his arm around her as they walked out of her bedroom, down the hallway and into the living room, where she heard Edward ask Rosalie, "Why hasn't he been here in three years if he's so important to her?"

"Not because I didn't try," Charlie replied before she could.

And he wasn't wrong. Charlie had offered, threatened, damn-neared begged for her to let him come to L.A. more times than she could count over the last three years. And every time she wanted to say yes, scream yes, but when she and Rosalie left Wyoming, she swore not make him take care of her all the time. It was bad enough he'd spent twenty years holding hand, he shouldn't have had to leave everything behind just so she find her music.

"I would have been here every day if she had let me, Edward, but Bee's a little stubborn and always told me no. I vowed a long time ago not to be another man in her life who took her choices away from her."

Bella rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't have to be here, holding me together all the time. I'm an adult, Charlie."

"Yeah, well, I'm here now, so deal with it, honey," he said, winking at her.

She smiled, her eyes flickering to Edward before she looked at Carlisle. "You said you know who my stalker is."

"Actually, I said I think I know who your stalker is," he replied with a grin that was quickly faded as he looked from her to Charlie and back. "We only found two of the brothers' bodies in the aftermath of the explosions. Aro and Caius. Marcus' body was never found, Bella. The theory had been that he was the closest to the explosion and there wasn't enough of him left to identify, but I never believed that myself. The man was quiet — too quiet."

"You think Marcus is the man stalking me?"

Carlisle nodded. "I do. His letters are personal, intimate, and if I'm right, then you are in great danger, Bella."

"Why?"

"Bella, you were his prize possession, and he won't stop until he gets his hands on you again."

Bella found herself standing so rigid, so tense that a gentle breeze would knock her over as everyone looked from her to Carlisle and back. Everyone but Charlie and Edward, of course. "Prized possession? I don't . . . you make it sound like . . . like he owned me, or something."

"All of the brothers were . . . particularly vicious, Bella, when it came to you and Edward and the other children in the Gathering of Twilight, but Marcus preferred you over all of them. In his mind, you were his possession, and he didn't much like sharing you with anyone if he could help it."

Bella wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head. "And you think this . . . this Marcus is alive? Where has he been for twenty-five years? Why didn't he come after me until now?"

"Hold on, Bella," Carlisle said, putting his hands up in front of him. "I don't have any proof. It's more of a gut reaction based on the wording in his letters. The way he speaks to you, like he knows you."

"What do I do now?" she asked.

"You let us do our jobs," Carlisle said, gesturing toward Emmett, Jasper, and Edward. "Emmett, Jasper, and I are going to head out for the day. Get started on some leads." He paused, his expression softening. "I know it's hard for you to trust us. You don't know us, but we won't let anyone hurt you again."

And while she wanted nothing more than to believe them, how could she? Up until half an hour ago, she thought the men standing inside the house were just the security team she'd hired. Now, they were more than that, weren't they? They were connected by secrets and memories she didn't have. They knew her in ways she didn't even know herself.

—TB—

Bella hadn't been able to handle sitting in the living room with Charlie, Edward, and Rosalie, who insisted that she wasn't going anywhere until she as sure Bella wasn't going to 'lose her shit'. Her words, of course. So, like Bella had done so many times, she retreated to the backyard with her guitar — or rather Charlie's guitar that he had given her after she was released from the hospital when she was five years old and needed something, anything to make the night terrors easier.

The sun had set and the air was cooling off as she sat in the red metal chair, her legs folded under her, and her guitar sitting on top when she heard the door to the house open and she looked over, figuring it was Rosalie or Charlie coming out to get her to come back inside, as they had done numerous times, so she was shocked when she found Edward standing there with two cups of coffee in his hands.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted cream or sugar."

"Oh, blacks fine," she said, quietly, watching him as he stepped outside and walked over to her, placing one of the cups on the table next to her before settling in the chair across from her. "Is it decaf?"

"Hell no," he scoffed. "What's the point of drinking coffee if you're drinking decaf?"

Nodding, she reached over and picked it up. "Caffeine this late though? Aren't you afraid of it keeping you up all night?"

"Kind of relying on it, too, actually," he said before taking a sip. "I, um, I don't think it would be good if I sleep tonight."

"You have nightmares, too?"

Edward nodded.

"You remember everything that we . . . that we went through?"

"I remember enough," he whispered, and she watched as his knee started bouncing. A nervous tick, she thought. "Wish I didn't."

"Not knowing is not any easier," she said, keeping her eyes on his as she took a sip of the coffee. "It's good."

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Carlisle adopted you after getting you out?"

And again, he nodded. "He and his wife Esme. They took me in as a foster kid at first. He was the only person I allowed somewhat close to me afterward, and they agreed to let me live with them until they could figure something else out, I guess. After almost a year, they asked if I would be okay with them adopting me."

"Did you want to be adopted?"

"I did," he whimpered. "Sorry. I don't usually get so emotional like this."

"Do I make you emotional?"

"A little bit," he admitted, gesturing toward her. "The picture in your locket. I told you I have that picture too, and, um, you kind of got me through a lot of hard times."

"I did? How?"

Edward shook his head and looked away. "I knew they were going to kill us, and I got scared, and I grabbed your hand and forced you into the cabinet with me. Begged you to be quiet so they wouldn't find us. And then there was a loud noise and the cabinet was thrown around and you were crying. Hell, I was crying, then you stopped, and . . . I don't know how long were inside there when the cabinet was opened and my dad and Charlie were standing there, looking down at us. He lifted you out and my dad lifted me out and . . ."

Edward dragged his hand over his face and through his hair. "I woke up in the hospital and when I asked about . . . about you, they said you didn't make it. I thought you were dead. And for a long time, I . . . I thought I failed you, failed to keep you safe. All I had was that picture of you, of us, and I don't know, I guess I just keep it close."

"And you watched me from afar for five years," she added, tilting her head to the side. "Why didn't you tell me you knew me when we met yesterday?"

"Didn't think our . . . shared experience was relevant to your case."

"So you didn't question why Ro picked your company out of all of the security companies in Los Angeles?"

"She told Al she was referred to us."

"Al? Who is Al?"

Edward laughed. "Alice is our right hand. She runs the day to day operations, is a computer genius, and happens to be in a relationship with Jasper."

"The woman with the long black hair? That's Alice?"

Edward nodded. "We call her Al."

"Why?"

"Why do they call you Bee?"

"Just do."

He took another sip of his coffee. "Then we just do."

"She was kind of a bitch," Bella said, causing him to smile. "She got real snippy with Ro, which I found amusing. I will admit."

"She doesn't much like people snapping their fingers in her face. Kind of a thing with her," he quipped.

"Duly noted."

Edward's eyes shifted to her guitar. "Play me a song."

Bella shook her head. "The only song in my head right now makes you upset."

"I'm sorry about that. I just . . ."

"You don't like it."

He frowned. "No."

"Because it reminds you of what they did to us?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel them, too? Touching you all the time? Holding you down? On top of you all of the time?"

Edward blew out a deep breath before he nodded.

"How do you handle it?"

"I don't," he admitted before he stood up and headed back into the house, closing the door behind him.

Bella took another sip of her coffee before she placed the cup on the table and began to strum the song, hating herself for wanting hear it again.