18 FRIEND OR FOE
The structure was the same- a modest two-bedroom- one bath house, the paint job a dull brown, adorning these same walls since the day this house had first become a home, a half-broken window belonging to the laundry room on the first floor, signalling the only scar on this otherwise flawless sight.
Same.
Everything was the same here.
The abandoned porch swing that sat in one corner, or the vegetable patch that my mother routinely tended to, everything from broccoli and spinach to ripe tomatoes meeting my eyes as it brimmed with life.
It was all the same in here.
The paint-faded minivan that rested in the driveway, long due for a change, a favourite of my mother that she simply refused to let out of sight.
I let out a small chuckle, several memories swimming through my mind as I stared at the vehicle in question. Dad had offered to buy her a new one- the same model in the same colour, but she had outright refused. She had bought this minivan a month before I was to be born, a major part of my childhood surrounded by those familiar interiors. It was special; irreplaceable, was what she always claimed.
Hand painted earthen pots lined either side of the front door, tiny uneven pink and purple flowers decorated on them. Mom and I had painted them together one summer day back when I was eight. I had been bored out of my mind, searching for some activity that led astray from my regular monotonous routine, my mother's suggestion seeming like a blah one at first. Of course, once I had started enjoying the activity, my perception had changed a 360. And while I did not consider this my finest work- I was eight after all, the fact that my mother had treasured these earthen pots meant the world to me!
I took another half step ahead, the recently mowed grass under my sole familiar. Back when I would come over from school for the holidays, I would often walk bare feet through the yard, letting the comfort of this soft newly shorn grass heal me of every exhaustion or worry ever experienced.
I could almost hear my mother's chiding tone as she criticized my father for being lazy in doing the one chore, he had willingly taken responsibility of. My mother had suggested to outsource the job, knowing that this particular chore of mowing the yard would be ignored and postponed more often than not, but my father had declined to waste money in something that he could very easily do. A fact that my mother routinely reminded him of.
I let out another small chuckle, the relief of being home finally setting in, the anticipation to go in there increasing with every step taken ahead.
I was home. Finally.
I took a deep breath in, smiling at the varied scents that entered my nostrils following my action, the most distinctive of them being the aroma of freshly baked bread, recently out of the oven but not yet cooled.
Pumpkin bread- a speciality of my mother.
She only made this when she was overflowing with happiness and satisfaction, humming to herself as she danced around the kitchen, touching a high that no one could bring her down from.
Ali had probably informed her that I was coming home.
Yes, that had to be it!
And only my- living in the moment- mother would treat this occasion like a matter of celebration…and maybe, it was something to be celebrated and cherished.
After all, it was not every day that you survived a trauma and returned nearly unscathed from it!
The fact remained that I had survived.
I was back home, wearing the scars of the torture laid down upon me.
A survivor.
I took another small step ahead, my feet quivering as I forced it to continue walking, refusing to let the hardly-there smile on my face vanish.
What was I even afraid of?
I was going home. Back to my parents.
I was safe here.
They were not going to harm me…. or judge me.
No. They would accept me back with open arms, knowing exactly what to do and tell to treat those unseen wounds of mine.
That was what parents did!
But…maybe if Edward….
Stop it, Bella.
I scolded myself. I was being ridiculous. He did not want me. And he had made that very evident. I could not force someone to like me.
No. You just had to accept it….
I would have to accept his decision. No matter how much I hated it.
I nodded my head to myself, taking another deep breath in, forcing a strong smile onto my face, the last few steps now remaining in front of me, the time to procrastinate having now passed.
I was almost there, the doorbell on my right.
Just a few more minutes now and I would truly be home…. back to where I belonged….
I lifted my finger to ring the doorbell, a sudden idea invading my mind, freezing me at my place, my eyes sparkling with newfound excitement and glee.
What if I gave them a surprise?
Of course, they already knew that I was coming home, but so far, I had managed to let my presence go unnoticed, the fact that I had taken the bus from Seattle putting things in motion. Had they realized that someone was out in the yard, either of them would have opened the door by now to check, that thought making me believe that I was indeed safe!
I smiled wider to myself, crossing my fingers in anticipation, my steps light as I walked towards the backdoor, the sound of my mother humming in the kitchen reaching my ears.
Perfect.
Now, hopefully, her back would be to me when I opened the screen door and entered the house….
'Charlie,'
I let out a sigh. I had missed my parents' voice.
Never knew I would be admitting to that!
'Were you able to talk to Ron? Where is she?'
I stilled at my place, my eyes wide as a frown threatened to make its way, aware that eavesdropping was wrong, yet unable to walk that next step ahead.
They knew about Uncle Ron?
How?
I hadn't mentioned about his involvement to Alice?
'No, Renee.' My father's tone was curt, partly frustrated and partly exhausted. 'They are not allowing him any visitors at the moment. They believe that if pressurized, he will confess faster. The idiots! We need a more capable lawyer!'
'But how did they even reach to him in the first place?' My mother demanded to know, screeching her question out. 'The plan had been infallible. Or so I had been assured time and again.'
'The cabin was legally on his name.' The words were spat out. 'It took them less than five whole minutes to track that down. They now want an answer as to how he was unaware that a crime was being committed in his owned property.'
'I knew we could not trust him.' Mom scowled in annoyance; her voice raised as she frowned in displeasure. 'I had told you this in the beginning itself.'
'Don't start now, Renee.' Dad rolled his eyes at her, his voice holding a finality. 'I am already stressed enough without you adding shit to it. We are no closer to getting the money. Her mother refuses to budge. And that husband of hers is no help at all. It is almost like they don't care whether she lives or dies!'
'We should have just killed her when we had the chance to.'
What?
'That Edward was even willing to do the dirty work on our behalf. We would just have needed to snap our fingers and she would have been out of our lives for good.' The venom in my mother's tone was unheard of, the spite she felt for me unmistakable.
'Now, now, Renee,' Dad calmed her down, a sigh leaving his lips. 'We did not invest so much money, time and patience on her to see this day. Let's not forget, she still trusts us. We can use that to our advantage.'
'I want my money, Charlie! I don't care about anything else; least of all her.' The words were shouted out, the hatred and disappointment my mother felt visible in her eyes.
Oh.
I took a step back, unstoppable tears trailing down my eyes, my feet faltering as I gasped for breath, stumbling over an unseen rock as I attempted to make sense of my jumbled thoughts.
They had to have been talking about someone else.
They were my parents, damn it!
I have had to have misunderstood their words!
No. This could not be true.
They loved me.
'Bella.' There was no sense of warmness in my mother's greeting, my presence revealed as they stared at me from the open window in the kitchen, their eyes wide in horror as they seemingly froze at their place. 'What are you doing here?'
I took another step back, panting for air, the two of them walking out of the backdoor, their heavy footsteps leading them in my direction.
'Don't.' I cried out, gasping for air. 'Don't come any closer to me!'
'Bella.' My mother chastised me, folding her arms one on top of the other, still somehow pretending that she was the correct one in the situation. 'You are being ridiculous, now.'
'I am being ridiculous?' I shrieked out, unbelieving of her audacity. 'Mom, I heard you and dad talk. Correct me if I am wrong but…. you had me kidnapped! You knew where I was, and yet you did absolutely nothing to rescue me from that! I was starved. I was tortured. I was slapped. I was almost molested. On two separate occasions! And yet the two of you did nothing to save me? You are my parents….'
'We are not your parents.'
It was a fact, no inflection in my father's tone.
He could be talking about the weather or what he ate this morning for breakfast with that expressionless monotone of his.
'Had it been to us, we would have had nothing to do with you. It is just unfortunate that we are saddled with your responsibility. A responsibility we wanted nothing to do with in the first place.'
What?
'How could you be this cruel to me?' I begged, staring into their cold eyes. 'Why are you doing this to me? Mom, see what dad is saying….'
My mother- or someone I had always referred to as my mother- shrugged, uncaring. 'My husband is not lying, Bella. Let's accept the facts here. The truth is in front of you; you would be blind not to accept it.'
'So, we are not even going to pretend like I have misunderstood you?' I bawled out, my tone disbelief-laden.
'Why should we? It won't change the truth. Now, will it?'
Oh.
I fell to my knees, begging for the ground to open up and pull me under, my reality shattered in a million unseen pieces at the realization that my entire life had been nothing but a big, elaborate lie.
They did not love me.
They were saddled with me.
'Why?' I whispered, glaring at the two of them as sudden anger replaced every last trace of sadness and desperation that existed in me.
How could they do this to me?
Why call me their daughter when they never wanted me as their daughter?
Why be this cruel and heartless?
What had I ever done to them?
'You know, I regretted not getting a chance to talk to Uncle Ron,' I began to speak, 'I wanted to know the reasoning behind his actions. In fact, I had been worried about the two of you- and whether he would try to harm you, too.' I let out a humourless laugh at that. How dumb had I been to not see this any before? 'But maybe, it was for the better that he was arrested before I found out his identity; I can now talk to the actual culprit behind all of this mess. So, Charlie and Renee Swan, I want to know why have me kidnapped? Why steal me away from my good- going life, giving me an experience, I will never forget till the day I live! It is high time I find out the true motive behind my kidnapping, don't you think?'
I wanted some answers, and I wanted them now.
This was the least they owed me. And I wasn't leaving without getting my answers.