10

She followed Edward back into the house not long after he retreated, like a coward. Though as he stood just inside the house, he heard her strumming that song, that God forsaken song that haunted him more than he was prepared to admit. Edward was sitting on the couch when she walked back into the house with his laptop open, going through the footage Alice had managed to upload to their account. It was highly secure, thanks to her, but gave them all the ability to share files. Bella stopped long enough to look at him before she hurried down the hallway and a moment later, he heard the sound of her bedroom door close and her start playing that song again.

"I should have called you sooner," Rosalie murmured, and when he looked over, he saw her huddled in the doorway to the kitchen with Charlie. "I saw the signs, knew it was getting worse. Especially when she started humming the song under her breath all the time. It's never good when that song is stuck in her head."

"Probably, but she would have just gotten upset if she thought we were conspiring behind her back."

"Yeah, I know," Rosalie fretted, bringing her hand up to her throat. "I'm going head home. She won't like me staying the night. Too many people here as it is."

Charlie simply nodded and followed Rosalie to the front door, watching her for a moment before he closed the door, turning the new deadbolt lock and turning back, looking directly at Edward.

"You okay, Edward?"

He shook his head. "Should I be?"

"No, I suppose not." Charlie walked over and sat across from him. "You think I've done wrong by her, don't you?"

"I don't know." And he didn't.

"Sure you do," he said, tilting his head to the side. "She was just a little girl, Edward. She didn't remember them, remember the horrible, disgusting things they did to you, to her, and I thought it was her chance to start fresh, I guess. She deserved the chance at a normal life, though I soon realized that some trauma went beyond just the memory."

"I thought she was dead. Dad . . . Dad told me she was dead."

"Because I told him she didn't make it."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want anyone to know she survived. For her safety, of course. There was always a shadow of doubt in the back of my mind that all of them were dead, I guess."

"Her safety?" he scoffed before he stood up and walked over to the back door, overlooking the backyard. "I thought I'd failed her, that it was my fault that she died."

"Why?"

At the sound of her voice, Edward spun around, finding her peeking out from the hallway. "Because I told you to get in the cabinet. I thought it would save us, keep us safe, but I didn't think it did."

"I'm going to head to bed, Bee." Charlie walked over to her, leaning in and kissing the top of her head. "If you need me, wake me up. Don't be stubborn."

"I won't," she said, giving him a nod, though her eyes didn't leave Edward's. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Charlie spared Edward a look before he walked down the hallway and a moment later, he heard the sound of a bedroom door opening and closing.

"Didn't realize you had another bedroom here."

Bella nodded. "It's his room. Nobody ever stays in it."

"Not even Rosalie?"

She smiled. "Especially not Ro. When she stays, she stays in your room, but I don't like people here."

"Not even her? She's your best friend, isn't she?"

"She is."

"And she manages your career?"

"She does."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Bella asked.

Edward just stared at her.

"Music has always been a part of my world. The only thing that calmed me down when I found myself in the midst of a panic attack. I told you how Charlie taught me how to play the guitar. Well, Ro encouraged me to let my voice be heard. When I met her, I didn't have friends. Nobody wanted to be friends with the freak, you know?"

"I do," he said. "I didn't really have friends, either."

"You have brothers, though. I was alone."

"Except for Charlie."

Bella frowned. "Yeah, except for him, but the other kids were afraid of me."

"Why would they be afraid of you?"

"Why wouldn't they? If they accidently touched me, I would scream and cry. We'd be in gym and they'd brush up against me and I'd have a full thrown panic attack. Didn't take long before my teachers set up special accommodations for me, make it easier for me, you know?"

"Sure, sure."

"Never understood why I reacted the way I did. Just knew that the feeling of hands on me . . ." Bella shook her head, shuddering. "Anyway, needless to say I didn't have any friends. And then Ro moved to town, and she was different."

"Different how?"

Bella inhaled a sharp breath before she shifted out of the hallway, walking over and sitting on the couch farthest from him. She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "There was this boy named Eric, who used to pick on me. He'd pull my hair, stand really close. Not touching me, but just . . . just really close, and, um, one day, he pinned me in the corner of the hallway leading to the library. Nobody was around, and he . . . he put his hand on my face," she said, gesturing to her cheek.

"I started screaming and crying, and . . . He laughed. He laughed so hard he was damn near pissing himself, but then she was there. Ro pulled him away from me, threw him on the floor and kicked him in the nuts. By then the librarian, a sweet lady named Mrs. Cope, had come out and Ro told her what he had done. Eric got suspended from school, and Ro became my best friend. From that day on, everyone knew if they messed with me, they would face her wrath. After a while, they just stop noticing me, I guess."

"And she encouraged you to find your voice? To sing, I mean?"

"She encouraged me to not to be afraid to be heard. Started playing some clubs in Wyoming and eventually we moved here to L.A. She was going to school and I was trying to get my music heard by anyone, someone. She found me open mic nights and bars willing to let me sing. She always right there, always there to tell me it was going to be okay, that I was stronger than I felt. When the label offered me a deal, I wouldn't agree unless she was my manager. She had just graduated from U.C.L.A. with a degree in Business, so she took me on as a client, I guess. I can't do it without her, Edward. She keeps me centered, focused I would even say."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I love to sing. I just don't care for the performing part of the gig. Everyone just watching me, waiting for the show." Bella shook her head. "I guess it doesn't make much sense."

"No, it does."

"Yeah?"

Edward nodded. "I don't much like attention, either."

"Tell me about your family."

"What about them?"

"What was it like to grow up with brothers?"

Edward laughed. "Chaotic."

"Chaotic how?"

Walking over, he sat back on the couch across from her. "When they brought me into their house, it took months, and I mean months, before I could spend more than a minute in the same room with any of them. I spent most of my days in the closet, hiding, waiting."

"For them?"

Edward nodded. "For the song to start playing."

"What would happen when the song would start playing?"

"That's when come get one of us. Sometimes two of us. Never more than two, though."

"Where would they take us?"

"Maybe it's better if you don't know."

"Not knowing hasn't helped me over the years." Bella dropped her legs from the front of the couch and leaned forward. "This morning I woke up completely and utterly paralyzed from fear. I couldn't speak, scream, or beg for help. There was nobody inside my house, Edward, but I could feel their hands on my arms, feel the weight of their bodies on top of me." She released a shaky breath as she looked away. "It's been happening to me for as long as I can remember. Even when I'm not asleep, I can feel them touching me, smell their breath. Don't tell me it would be better if I didn't know. I've lived the last twenty-five years in a Hell I didn't even understand because I didn't know who I was, where I had been before I woke in the fucking hospital."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry. Just . . ." Bella stood up and walked around the coffee table, sitting on the couch next to him, keeping enough space between them that they wouldn't accidently touch. "You're the only person who understands how I feel all the time. Ro tries. Charlie tries, but . . . but they don't understand."

"They kept us segregated from the adults. They called it the dorms, but it basically just a large room with a bunch of beds. When . . . when the song would come on through the speakers, we would have to stand at the end of our beds and wait for . . . for them to choose. If they picked you, they would take you to the chapel."

"And what would they do to us in the . . . in the chapel?"

"Bella," he whispered, shaking his head. "You know what they did."

"I need you to say it," she whimpered.

Edward leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, leaning his forehead against the palms of his hands. "They told us to take off our clothes and then they would. . ." He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "They'd lay us on the alter and . . ."

"Rape us," she said, causing him to open his eyes and look over at her. "They'd rape us, wouldn't they?"

"Yes."

Bella scrambled to her feet and stumbled away from him, like he'd just reached out and backhanded her. "The room was lit with candles, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he said, standing up. "You remember?"

She shook her head frantically. "I can smell the wax burning. Feel their hands on me. Feel them . . . feel them inside me," she cried, walking backward until she hit the corner of the hallway. "I wish I'd never met you, Edward Cullen."

And before he could stop her, she turned and hurried down the hallway. He followed, but instead of going into her bedroom, he watched as she opened the door to Charlie's room. Through the closed door, he heard her crying and him trying to sooth away the pain.

—Body—

Edward hadn't attempted to sleep. He knew it was pointless, futile given everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. Several times throughout the night, he heard her crying from inside her father's room. He knew he shouldn't have given her any details, but she pushed. That's what he told himself at least. She pushed, she insisted.

The sun had just started to rise and he was standing at the back door when his phone started buzzing inside his pocket. He sighed when he saw his mother's name and number. A part of him wanted to ignore her call, but knew she would track him down if he did, so instead, he pressed the green talk button and brought the phone to his ear, and said, "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, kid," she said quietly. "Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Didn't think I would," she said. "You okay? Dad said yesterday was rough."

"No, I'm not okay," he admitted. "I think I made a mistake, Mom."

"How?"

"Taking her on as a client," he said, pushing open the door and stepping outside. He walked over and sat down on one of the red metal chairs.

"That's a lie."

Edward scoffed. "Yeah, it is." He paused before he said, "She doesn't remember any of it, Mom, but at the same time, I think subconsciously she knows everything that we went through," he whimpered, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against the palm of his head. "Why'd they do that to us, Mom? We were fucking babies. How could they do that to us?"

"I don't know."

"Would they have loved me, Mom? My birth parents, I mean. Would they have loved me?"

"They loved you enough to try to break free."

"Yeah."

"Dad should be there in a little while. He was going to check in with Al first. Emmett and Jasper are going to help Sam gather some information from the label, in case Dad is wrong about him being alive. I just needed to hear your voice."

Edward smiled. "I needed to hear yours, too, Mom."

"What's she like?"

"She's amazing," he admitted. "She's fragile and delicate, but then she's fierce and strong, and . . . beautiful. So beautiful."

"Edward," Esme whispered, and he could almost see her shaking her head. "If you need me, I'm just a phone call away. If either of you need me, I'm just a phone call away. Okay?"

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Edward turned to place his phone on the nightstand but froze when he found Bella watching him from the doorway leading into the house. "Oh, hey."

"Hey."

"I didn't hear you."

She smiled, though her eyes were guarded. "So I gathered. That was your mother on the phone?"

"Esme," he said. "She was worried about me. About you."

"Why would she be worried about me?"

Edward frowned as he stood up and grabbed his phone, shoving it into his back pocket. "Because she knows you're important to me."

Bella lobbed her head to the side. "I'm important to you?"

Edward barely nodded.

"Why am I important to you?"

"Because even though I thought you were dead, I . . . I never forgot you, Bella, and when things got hard for me, I would talk about you, to . . . to my mom and dad, to my brothers. Kind of annoyed the shit out of them, actually."

"It's weird," she said, shaking her head. "You have all these memories of me, and I didn't know you existed until two days ago."

"I know."

"I'm sorry about last night," she said, frowning. "I pushed you to talk about it, and . . . I didn't mean what I said."

"Didn't you?" he asked. "I mean, if Rosalie hadn't come to me to protect you, you wouldn't be reliving all of this, would you?"

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But not knowing isn't any better than knowing. At least now I know it's not all just inside my head." Bella turned and faced the inside of the house. "Can you protect me, Edward?"

"Yes."

"I hope so." She looked over at him. "Because you've become important to me, too."

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