11

"I wish I'd never met you, Edward Cullen."

Though she knew her words hurt him, seeing the agonizing sorrow that filled his eyes as he told her what she already knew, she turned and hurried down the hallway. Instead of locking herself inside her bedroom, however, she threw open the door to Charlie's bedroom, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed, like he had expecting her.

"Oh, Bee," he said and stood up.

She closed the door behind her, crumbling to the floor as her body shook with tears, her sobs loud and echoing throughout the small bedroom. Charlie was by her side in an instant, though he didn't touch her.

"Honey, you gotta calm down. You gotta breathe for me, Bee."

"How could they do that to me? To us? We were babies? We were fucking babies!"

"I don't know, honey. I just . . . I'll never understand."

"I think I knew. I think I've always known that someone had . . . that someone had raped me, had abused me. I just . . ." Bella turned and sat with her knees pulled as close to her chest as she could get them, her arms wrapped around them, protecting herself from the memories she didn't have. "He said that song meant it was . . . it time to be chosen, that they'd take us to a chapel, they'd make us take off our clothes, lay on an alter before they . . ." She closed her eyes and tried to stop her tears from falling. "Did you watch them do that to me? To any of us?"

"No!"

She opened her eyes. "No?"

"Of course not, Bee. We would have never have stood there and let them hurt you like that. When Carlisle and I figured it out, we put our plan in action A.S.A.P. When we went in, we were told the children were being kept separate so that you could be raised in the faith of the Twilight. We suspected, though, that there was something . . . disgusting going down with the Brothers, with their council."

"Their council?" she cried. "It . . . it wasn't just the Brothers?"

"No, honey, it wasn't," he said, and she started to cry harder. "This is why I didn't want you to know."

"I need to know," she sobbed. "I thought I was crazy, Charlie? Don't you realize that I've spent twenty-five years feeling like . . . like I was mentally ill because I was scared all the time? Of people touching me, breathing on me. I could feel them all the time, people who weren't even there! I thought I was going crazy, and now, I find out that I . . . that the hands I feel on my skin were what? Repressed memories of a life I knew nothing about? I just . . ." She shuddered and when he reached for her, she screamed, "Don't touch me!"

"Okay, I'm sorry, honey," he said putting his hands in front of him. "I should have pushed harder for you to get therapy."

"I wouldn't have gone," she whispered. "Just the idea of being alone in the room with a stranger . . ." She shook her head, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "Do you really think he's still alive?"

Charlie tensed before he said, "I do."

"Why me? Why does he want me?"

That sadness that filled his eyes had her fearing the words that left his lips. "Because you were one of his favorites, Bee."

Bile filled her throat, though she managed to keep it from spilling out of her lips. She tightened her arms around herself, her tears falling harder, and though she didn't want him to touch her, Charlie wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap, and letting her cry, because being Marcus Volturi's favorite didn't sound like a good thing.

—TB—

Leaving Edward sitting in the backyard, Bella hurried into the kitchen and started pulling out the ingredients needed to make her morning shake. She hadn't meant to overhear his conversation with his mother, but she would have to admit to being a little jealous that he had a mother. It was always just her, Charlie, and Rosalie.

Why had she told Edward that he was important to her? He was just a guy. That wasn't true, of course. He wasn't just a guy. He was the only person she knew who understood how she felt, why the feel of people touching her made her skin crawl. But what had it been about him that intrigued her so much from the moment she saw him standing in the doorway of his office? Because she couldn't deny being drawn to him from the moment she laid eyes on him.

It couldn't just be the fact that they shared a past, could it? She'd been fascinated by him, going as far as trying to search for him online. Of course, now it made sense why there weren't any pictures of him online. Carlisle had been doing everything he could to keep Edward safe. Just like Charlie had been her, hadn't he? That's why he told Carlisle that she had died, that he never told her about her life before five years old.

Just as she had added the last of the banana into her blender, the door to the kitchen swung opened and Edward stood there. She kept her eyes locked on him as she started the blender. Had her mind been trying to subconsciously tell her that he was the boy from the locket? She had never been able to explain why the boy in the locket was important to her, just that he was. What else had happened to them while in the Gathering of Twilight? And did she really want to know?

She stopped the blender and turned and pulled two glasses out of the cabinet. As she turned and looked back at him, she heard herself say, "Tell me about your mother."

"My mom?" he asked and she nodded. "Oh, um, I don't know. I mean, she's a mom."

"What does that mean?" she asked as she poured them both a glass of her shake. "I didn't have a mom. Just Charlie."

Edward frowned. "She's a great mom."

"What makes her great?" she asked, picking up the glasses and walking over to him, holding one out to him. "You don't have to drink it if you don't like it. Just felt rude to make one for myself, and not offer you some."

He smiled and wrapping his fingers around the glass. When his fingers brushed against hers, she expected to feel something — fear, panic, fraught even — but she didn't. She actually felt peace.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied. "Now, don't change the subject. Tell me about her."

Edward nodded and gestured toward the table, where they both sat. "She's patient and kind. Never raised her voice with us, never pushed me for more than I could give her. It took months before I could handle being in the same room with any of them, but Esme would sit outside of my closet for hours, reading me books and telling me stories. When I'd have nightmares," he whispered, thickly, "she would sit next to my bed until I calmed down, sometimes sleeping on the floor next to my bed."

"Does she know about what happened to you?"

Edward nodded. "As much I remember."

"Does she know about me?"

Again, he nodded. "I talked about you a lot."

"Why me? What made me different than the other kids? There were other kids, wasn't there?"

"There were," he admitted. "I don't know how many, but they were older than us."

"Is that why you remembered me? Because we're the same age?"

"Bella," he whispered, placing his glass on the table as he shook his head.

"Is it?"

"No," he mumbled, his eyes shifting up to hers. "No, it's not just because we are the same age. I didn't even know that until years later."

"Then why?" she pressed, placing her glass on the table and scooting to the edge of her chair. "Just tell me, Edward. Just tell me why I was important to you."

"I . . ." Edward pushed himself out of his chair and started pacing.

Bella stood up and grabbed his arm, causing him to stop and look down at her. "Edward, why were in the picture together?"

"Because . . . because when . . . when the song would come on, when they'd pick two, they always picked me and you. Always."

"And what would they do to us when they picked both of us?"

"They made us . . . they made us touch each other, Bella."

"You? You touched me?" she asked, releasing his arm and taking a step backward. "Like they did?"

Edward barely nodded, and before either of them could say anything else, the sound of the front door to her house being opened, pulled his attention away and he hurried out of the room. Bella sat back down at the table, trying to block out the sound of him greeting Rosalie, and instead, tried to process what he had just shared with her.

"Bee!" Rosalie called, and Bella turned and faced the table just moments before she heard the sound of her hurrying into the kitchen, the door singing wide open. "There you are."

"Yep," she said, picking up her glass and taking a drink before she turned and looked at her friend.

"Hey, Bee, what's wrong?" Rosalie hurried over to the table, but before Bella could utter a sound, Edward was leaning against the entry to the kitchen. "Bee?"

"Nothing's wrong," she lied. "I just couldn't sleep last night. Not after . . . everything. I'm tired, Ro. I'm so tired."

"Of course." Rosalie moved into the chair Edward had just been sitting in, picked up his glass and sniffed the top. "Ugh, how do you drink this crap?"

"I just do," she said, pulling the glass out of her hand and looking back at Edward, but he was gone. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I was worried about you," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "Charlie texted me at midnight, said it was bad. Figured you'd need me here today."

Bella nodded, biting the inside of her as she scooted back in her chair, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. "Feel like my entire life has been nothing but a lie."

"Suppose I can understand that, considering what we learned yesterday," she said, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table.

"Did you know, Ro? Had he told you?"

"He didn't tell me anything, but I suspected you had been abused," she admitted, leaning back and dropping her hands into her lap. "Didn't think it was . . . a cult, or whatever, but I figured someone had hurt you pretty bad."

"Is it wrong that a part of me feels relieved? To know that it wasn't just in my head, I mean?"

"Of course it's not wrong, Bee."

"Ro," she whispered, shaking her head as tears flooded her eyes.

"I know, Bee, I know."

But she didn't know. The only person who seemed to have any real understanding of how she felt, was Edward Cullen, and she wasn't sure she should trust him again.

—TB—

An hour later, Bella had retreated into her bedroom to take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and will the throbbing pain behind her eyes to go away. As she stood in the bathroom, completely nude, she stared her body, her eyes shifting to the black infinity sign tattoo on her hip, and she wondered if Edward had one that matched. And then she wondered if he had enjoyed touching her when they were little. Had he been obsessed with her over the years because they suffered together? Or was there more to it?

"Stop thinking about it," she scolded herself as she turned from the mirror and turned the hot water all the way on, and only adding a small amount of cold water.

She stepped into the large shower, her arms coming up and wrapping around herself as she found herself crying once more. How could she not have known? How could those memories just disappear? That wasn't the kind of thing a bump on the head should be able to erase, should it? And was it better to know the truth? Or not know the truth?

"Bee, you okay in there?" Rosalie called, knocking on the door.

"Yeah, almost done," she replied, thankful the sound of the showered drowned out the sound of her tears.

"Okay."

Knowing she wouldn't be able to hide for much longer, she quickly washed her hair, scrubbed her body until it was red and almost bruising, and turned the water off. She wrapped her towel around her body and walked into her bedroom, finding a note laying on top of her bed. She could feel her shoulders tense as she walked over and picked it up.

As she unfolded it, she found herself reading it out loud, "They made us stand in the middle of the room, naked. That song was playing and they were in a circle around us. Aro grabbed my left hand and Caius grabbed your left hand and they each took a silver knife and cut us down the middle of our palms. They pressed our hands together before binding them with thick, heavy rope, and they started chanting and pushing our bodies so that we were pressed against each other. They said we were bonded for life, that we'd been created by them for each other. That was the first night they made me touch you. That was the night they took that picture. That was the first night I failed you."

She read through it again before she folded it back in inside the drawer on her nightstand. As she reached for the front of the towel, she turned her left hand over, and sure enough, faded and thin, there was scar leading down her palm.

"Bee?" Charlie knocked and she hurried over and placed her hand on the back of the door. "Honey, Carlisle's here."

"I'll be right out."

"Okay."

Turning, she leaned against the door, lifting her hand up and looking at the thin, faded scar again. How had she never noticed it before? And did she have any other scars that she didn't know about?

"Get it together, Swan," she whispered to herself before she closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath. "Don't let them see you fragile and pathetic."

She tossed her towel in her hamper and pulled on a clean pair of panties, a bra, a pair of jeans, and a black with a white guitar on it. She dragged her brush through her hair before taking another deep breath and opening the door to her bedroom and walked down the hall.

Carlisle was seated on one of the couches with Edward and Alice, who unlike the other day, had her long black hair pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head. Rosalie and Charlie were sitting on the opposite couch, and when she rounded the corner, every one of them turned and looked at her. Edward stood, his hands coming together in front of him, and she wondered if he had the same scar on the palm of his left hand that she had on hers.

"It's about fucking time."

Bella's attention was pulled toward Alice, who had also stood and was standing with her hands on her hips, her blood red nails gripping the sides of her black leather pants. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't really give a fuck if you're sorry," she quipped.

"Al," Carlisle said, standing and placing his hand on the younger woman's shoulder, causing her to roll her eyes and move out of the way, waving her hand in annoyance. The oldest of the Cullen men turned and looked at her, his eyes guarded, yet friendly. "Good morning, Bella. Please excuse Alice. She was up all night scouring the video from the night your stalker broke in. She believes she has figured out his point of entrance."

"Oh." Bella shifted her eyes to Alice, who was glaring at the floor. "And what did you find?"

Alice scoffed, but didn't say anything as she gestured toward the laptop on the coffee table.

"When you bought the house, Bella, did you have the grounds inspected?"

"I mean, we checked the fence for holes and stuff," she said. "Why?"

"Come watch," Carlisle said, stretching his hand out toward her.

"I, um." She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "Just tell me."

"Okay, okay," he replied with a smile while Alice shifted her eyes to Bella, and for a moment, a brief moment, there was kindness in them.

Of course that changed in a heartbeat, and Alice turned and walked over to the back door, ignoring the way Edward reached for her.

"The east corner of your yard, where all the rose bushes and foliage is so thick and heavy," Carlisle continued, drawing her attention back to him, "is a hidden gate that leads into the wooded area behind your house. Your stalker gained access to your yard there, and stayed against the fence line as he made his way to the side of the house. You have a small hatch that leads under your house. Fairly common with older houses, gives access to the plumping and such. Anyway, he entered there, and would have crawled under the house until he was under the laundry room, where there is another hatch. From there, he would have had free range of the entire house, including your bedroom."

"And you still think it's . . . it's this Marcus guy?"

Carlisle and Charlie shared a look before Carlisle nodded. "Upon watching video, of him crawling out of the crawl space under the house, I saw . . . I saw a tattoo on his hip."

Bella swallowed against the bile that rose up her throat as she felt everyone turned and look at her again, everyone but Edward, who had shoved his hands into his pockets and was staring at the floor. "What was the tattoo of?"

"An infinity symbol," Carlisle said. "Just like you have, and just like Edward has. It was a very elusive tattoo within the Gathering of Twilight."

"Why?" As the question left her mouth, she regretted asking.

"The Brothers were very possessive. They weren't keen on sharing, even with each other, and when they took a liking to someone, they marked them with their symbols. Made it clear who . . . who they belonged to."

"And you're saying Marcus Volturi marked us with infinity tattoos as a way of staking claim over us?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Bella." Carlisle shifted his eyes to Edward for a moment before he looked back at her. "You and Edward were the only two he marked."

And unlike before, she was able to keep the bile from spilling from between her lips, Bella slapped her hand over her mouth, and hurried to the restroom inside her bedroom, fell to her knees, and lost control. Was there just no end to her nightmare?

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! Yes, yes, yes, I know this is all very fucked up.