Bella

I looked down as James's worn face. He had dark circles under his eyes and tangles in his hair. I could see light mud stains on his side where he had been sleeping on the ground.

I was so torn.

I was furious that he had hurt my baby, sad because I knew he was so broken. And I was scared stiff because I knew that he was not stable right now and how badly that could go.

I thought about calling Charlie several times but knew he wouldn't understand.

He only saw James as a stalker, not as the seriously mentally ill, broken man he was.

He needed to be in a mental institution. A nice one so he would not want to escape, preferably one close by so I could visit him and make sure he was okay.

I looked over his sleeping form knowing that he would not stay anywhere if I did not come and visit him regularly.

He was very skilled when it came to escaping and tracking me down.

He had done it for years and I didn't doubt that no matter where I was in the world, he would find me.

Even when Edward and all his men couldn't track me down, James had.

I shifted a little and he moved again, burying his nose in my shirt.

When he moved I saw his shirt rise and I grimaced. Not only were his numerous scars exposed, including his new gunshot wound, but also the butt of a gun.

I would have to get it away from him. I would have to talk him into giving it to me when he was awake or he might hurt me.

I let out a sigh.

I knew this would be dangerous but I felt I owed it to James.

He lived next door to me for so long when we were young and I knew what was going on. I tried to help him any way I could but I couldn't stop the abuse. When I moved to Florida he ran away and followed me.

He literally walked across the country to find me and then back again when I moved up to Seattle for school at U-Dub.

I remembered now that he'd followed me to New York as well.

His lean worn body had crossed the states four times following me, looking for help. He knew I would always help him and so that was what I had to do now.

People often said that someone could follow another person around like a lost puppy. James was my lost puppy and he did follow me everywhere.

I had to stay calm at all times around him to keep things under control, especially when he was off his medication.

I glanced at the bottle. It was full.

He had obviously been off of his medicine for a while now. The date on it having been filled was two months ago.

I wondered where he got it and if they knew he was wanted. I had to get him on the medicine and get it in his system fully before I could talk to him reasonably. I knew from experience that it took about two weeks for it to fully kick in.

Until then, he was a ticking time bomb. I was going to have to keep Jake and everyone else away from the house while he got back on his medication.

My eyes drifted back to the gun nervously and I hoped I could survive helping him. I thought of just running but knew no matter where I went he would follow. It was best to just nip this problem in the bud, get him medicated and into a mental hospital so I could safely go back to my life and could quite running.

My thoughts suddenly flashed to my family and I wanted to cry.

I had made such a mess of things.

James's presence had distracted me from my self destruction and now that he was asleep and I knew I was safe for the time being.

I was able to reflect on my mistakes.

I regretted leaving Edward and the kids but hated England and the snobby bastards that lived there that thought they were so much better than I was.

I wanted to see them but looking down at James' sleeping form. I knew I had to take care of this problem first. James would never go away and I would always be running from him and trying to keep my family from being harmed by him.

He was not a force to be ignored.

He would continue to follow me and come after my family and me if I didn't handle him properly.

Next time, he most likely would kill Edward.

I knew he wasn't a bad man, just extremely ill and broken.

I hoped that once I got him under control that Charlie would understand my wanting to help him.

If he was just an evil man, that would be one thing to throw him in jail, but mentally he wasn't much more than seven years old.

He was still just a lost little boy looking for help, trying to find someone to love him.

Unfortunately, even though he was so psychologically immature, his capacity for anger and his stature was the size of a large adult man so his temper tantrums could have deadly consequences.