Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just play with them. This story is rated M, and is not suitable for younger readers. Story contains violence, coarse language and sexual "situations". Please do not read if any of these things offends you.
Note: [Beta'ed by: adt216]
Chapter 12 – Outcome
Edward Cullen POV
By the time my dad came to the scene, I was so completely shut down from what happened that I didn't even notice him until he put his hand on my shoulder and I jumped in surprise.
"Son?" he said, and I slowly turned to look at him. He frowned as soon as he saw my face. "Thought you said you weren't hurt."
He pressed two skilled fingers to my forehead and I flinched at the pain radiating from where he touched me. I guess I got a cut after all. But what the fuck was a cut on my forehead compared to losing your life? Fuck.
He sighed and pulled his hands back after assessing the damage, before walking over to the body. I didn't want to look at what he did to her, so I just turned my back to him and pretended like the situation wasn't bothering me at all. Because, frankly, why would I care that I ran her over? It's not like she matters to me…
Well, she probably matters to someone. She has a family, you idiot.
I guess her family will have to plan a funeral then. And let's face it, I did them a favor. Putting her out of her misery like this. She even asked me to, that one time in the hallway…
So killing someone is suddenly okay in your book? Who's next? Newton?
I flinched at the harshness of my own thoughts.
I could pretend all I wanted. But nothing about the situation would ever be okay, no matter how much I tried to twist it. I had killed Isabella Swan. I was a murderer. Plain and simple. And just because I didn't like her when she was alive, it didn't give me the right to pretend like this didn't bother me. Of course it bothered me. Hitting someone, no matter whom that particular someone was, had to bother me. Or else I would not be human.
"… lost a lot of blood, but she's breathing and her pulse is alright… lower than I would want it to be, but enough for now..." I just became aware that Dad was speaking to me, and it took a moment or two for me to process exactly what he was saying.
"You mean she's… alive?" I asked, incredulously. I turned around, so quickly it made my head spin, and stared at him; he looked back at me and nodded.
Fuck me backwards. I'm not a murderer!
I don't know what the hell came over me, but relief was running through me like a wild spring river, and without intending to, I began to laugh hysterically.
She is fucking breathing.
Dad paid me no attention, as he continued to look her over. I guess the relief flooding through me was what finally did me in. She's not fucking dead.
I was just dimly aware of the lights blaring in the distance and the ambulance coming closer, as my legs gave out, and I passed out.
The first thing I saw when I came to was the cleavage of the young intern who was stitching me up. The way she smiled, when she noticed I was awake, was not one of those you give your patients. No. It was one of those you give a guy when you want to get a ride on his special member. Trust me, I know that look. If this had been any other time, I would not have thought twice before I gave her my patented dazzling smile and had her bent over the bed, fucking her to the point where she no longer knew her name; it was fucking obvious that she wanted it.
But even I knew this wasn't the damn time for that.
Running over someone and thinking you were a murderer for a whole ten minutes were not really things that put you in the mood. I wouldn't be able to get hard even if I tried. No matter how hot the boobs hanging in my face were.
"All done, handsome," she said, cutting the thread and putting a bandage over the cut.
"Have you seen my father?" I asked, ignoring the seductive look she was giving me.
"He's in surgery with the girl," she replied, still with that look, like she was already picturing me naked, "but your mother is in the waiting room."
I jumped off the bed and stalked out. The intern looked a little baffled as I passed her without as much as a 'thanks'; I guess she wasn't used to being ignored. But who the fuck cared? The only thing tackier than me having her bent over, was her undressing me with her eyes when she knew I had just run over someone…
Who the fuck hits on patients anyway?
I walked over to the waiting area where I found my mom pacing back and forth. I don't think I've ever seen her so flustered and worried. I honestly didn't understand why – I was not the one who got run over. She stopped pacing when she noticed me. She quickly made her way over to me and pulled me into a tight embrace.
"Don't you dare scare me like that ever again," she said, her lips by my ear and her voice trembling with worry.
"I'm not planning on running anybody over again anytime soon," I tried to joke, in an attempt to brighten the mood. She pulled back and held her hands on either side of my face. I winced a little when her perfectly manicured finger came in contact with the skin near my cut. She noticed and frowned.
"How are you feeling? Are you all right?" she asked and I nodded.
"I'm fine…" I sighed. "And now I just wanna go home."
"You don't want to wait here until your dad gets out of surgery?" she asked, and I shook my head.
"Why? I'm fine, so I don't need to see him," I replied.
"Don't you want to know what happened to the girl?" she asked, looking a bit confused.
I scoffed and shook my head.
"I couldn't care less."
The words left my mouth before they even registered in my mind, and I felt some sort of weird twinge in my stomach after I said them. The words were obviously some kind of reflex, because had this been a few hours ago, I most certainly wouldn't have cared what happened to her. So what had changed?
Mom obviously didn't agree with my thought process, as I could see the distaste in her eyes.
"She almost died, Edward. How can you not care?" she asked, her voice sad.
"I didn't care before… so why would I now? Nothing has changed," I replied with a tired sigh. "Can I go home now?" She frowned and let me go.
"You surprise me, Edward. This is not the son I raised," she said, disappointment lacing her tone.
"Is that a yes?" I sighed. She sighed in return, but didn't answer.
I took her silence as a yes.
Another doctor had to check me over before I could get out of there, but finally I did.
I stepped out through the hospital doors into the cold, and it wasn't until then that it hit me that I had no car and no way of getting home. I plopped down on a nearby bench and pulled out my phone. I had three missed calls from Jasper.
They must be wondering where the hell I was. I should have been in Port Angeles by now. It had been almost two hours since I left home. Two hours since the accident.
Two fucking hours. How was that even possible? Time had really flown...
I called Jasper back, and he answered after the first ring.
"Dude! What the fuck happened?" he answered frantically, not even bothering to say hello.
"Don't even ask," I sighed. "I figure you guys know you have to find another source of transportation?"
"Yeah, I figured as much when Emmett called. He picked us up ten minutes ago. We're on our way back now," Jasper replied. "So, dude, what the fuck? What did you do?"
"Seriously, man, I'm not in the mood. Can you guys like drive by the hospital and pick me the fuck up? I need to get shitfaced, like… ten minutes ago."
"Emmett wants to talk to you, hang on," Jasper said. I heard the phone change hands, and soon Emmett's loud voice came on.
"Bro, what the fuck?" Emmett. Always so eloquent.
"I don't even know where to begin. This is all so fucked up," I sighed.
"Mom said you ran over someone… are you okay?"
"I'm alright, got a fucking cut, and I needed stitches. I bet I'm gonna get a badass scar," I chuckled darkly, and Emmett sighed in my ear.
"C'mon, bro, don't be a douche… who did you hit? Did he or she die?" he asked, with morbid curiosity, and for once I damned the fact that my brother never beat around the bush and got right to the point. He asked what he wanted to know, and that was that. No matter how inappropriate it was. And not caring if I was up for his shit or not.
"No, she didn't die… Dad is working her over in surgery." I leaned back on the bench, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut. I so don't need this shit right now.
"And you're avoiding the question… who was it?" he pressed, and I groaned.
"Goose," I replied with a tired sigh.
"What? You hit a goose? But you said Dad was in surgery. Why would he operate on a bir-" He cut himself off and gasped as the realization hit him – my brother could be real slow sometimes, "You hit Swan! Dude! What the hell?"
I didn't say anything, and I could hear the others talk frantically on the other side of the line. Nobody missed that particular detail. From what I caught them saying, I could tell that they were all doubting my sincerity; none of them believed I actually hit Goose of all people.
And of course, when they realized I wasn't joking, the inevitable follow-up question had to follow.
"I love you, bro, you know that, but I got to ask… and don't take this the wrong way… but did you… you didn't do it… you know… on purpose?" he asked awkwardly, and if he had been standing in front of me right now, he would be scratching his head and avoiding my eyes at all cost. And if he had in fact been standing in front of me right now, I would have punched him in the fucking face for even suggesting it – I wouldn't even fucking care that he could beat me down with both his hands tied behind his back. I don't fucking care how bad it all looked; he should know me better than that. I would never physically hurt a girl, let alone hit her with my fucking car, no matter how annoying she was.
"Dude… seriously… you didn't, did you?" he asked hesitantly, when I hadn't said anything for a while.
"It was fucking dark. I didn't see her until it was too fucking late. You really think I'm capable of killing someone? What the fuck, Em?" I said incredulously, though I couldn't be totally insulted by his words, since I knew that it was a fair question given the circumstances. But still, it fucking hurt that my brother thought so low of me that he actually had to ask.
"Chill, I was just asking… can you blame me? You threatened to kill her just a few hours ago, so how can you-"
"Fuck you, Em," I snapped, before hanging up on him.
I don't fucking care if what he said made sense. I already assumed people would make the wrong assumptions when they found out. It was the first fucking thing I thought of, after I realized who it was I had hit in the first place. But c'mon! He was my brother. He should have known me better than anyone, and if Emmett thought I was capable of hitting someone on purpose, then what the hell was the rest of the town going to think?
My reputation would be ruined. And my life would be over.
Fucking Swa- Goose.
It was all her fault.
What the hell was she doing in the middle of nowhere anyway? Shouldn't she have been at home, thinking about how pathetic she was? Wishing she was cool, and maybe play with her dollies or what the fuck ever it is that geeks like her do for 'fun'.
Maybe she was setting me up… maybe this was her intention all along.
To fucking destroy me before I had a chance to destroy her.
Fuck.
A moving flashing light caught my attention, and I looked up. I first thought it was an ambulance, but I was proven wrong when the car drove up into the parking lot, not to the ER entrance, and parked in an empty space close to the main entrance instead.
It was a fucking police cruiser, and the person stepping out of the car was none other than Chief Swan himself. Swan's father.
Fuck.
For some idiotic reason, I stood up and stepped in front of him just as he was about to enter the hospital. He had a woman with him, whom I assumed was his wife and the mother of Swan, because she looked exactly like her – same brown hair and deep brown eyes – just older.
I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, but this was my moment to prove myself. I did not hit that bitch on purpose, and I was going to man up and actually apologize to her parents for putting them through all this. I was not going to mention what a waste of space their daughter was. I was simply going to apologize. Nothing more.
It was the human thing to do, right?
The Chief glared at me and I tried my best to show him that he didn't scare me.
But that fucking gun in his holster sure did…
"Move out of my way, son," he said with what I assumed was his frightening cop-voice.
He's not scaring me…
"My name is Edward Cull-"
"I know who you are! Now get out of my way! My daughter is in there!" he snapped.
"I know, and I believe the reason is my fault."
Something shifted in his eyes. The woman grabbed a hold off his arm and looked at me with panicked eyes. I had to look away from them when I started talking. I would not be able to apologize if I had to look into their eyes and see their pain.
"It was fucking dark, and I hit a patch of black ice. And I didn't see her. She was in the fucking way. And she got hit. Sorry," I said, all in one breath, with no ounce of remorse in my voice. I was just going through the motions, doing what responsible people did. My mom should be proud of me for even bothering…
"You… you hit my daughter?" the woman said with a shaky voice. "What…why? Did she jump in front of you? Did she… did she do it on purpose?"
I was a little taken aback by her question and looked at her confusedly. Was it a coincidence that that particular question was the first thing she asked? Or was there more to it? If even her fucking mother had to ask whether or not she jumped, then maybe it wasn't my fault at all, and I had nothing to apologize for.
"Renée! Bella would never!" the Chief said, turning to glare at his wife.
"I don't know. It all happened so fucking fast, she might as well have jumped. I don't know," I said, though a part of me doubted it was true. I remember every millisecond before the accident, and I knew for a fact that she didn't jump in front of my car… she was just standing there even though she had time to get out of the way. But that might as well have been on purpose. Who knew what the fuck was running through that crazy head of hers?
"I will deal with you later," the Chief said to me, before pushing me out of his way and walking inside.
I went back to my bench and sat down. At least I had apologized. I should get some fucking credit for that. It wasn't like it was my fault that their crazy daughter was more or less suicidal.
I played with the phone in my hands, as I silently pondered my next problem: how the hell I was going to get the fuck out of here?
It would be an hour before the guys were back in Forks, and I had no desire to hang out with them now anyway. They would ask for details, and they would ask me again if I did it on purpose. Because it would all sound so unlikely in their ears, they would ask me how the hell I managed to lose control of the car in the first place. I was an awesome driver – that was a known fucking fact. I simply didn't lose control. Not like this.
Could I have stopped? Could I have prevented the accident?
Did I actually hit her on purpose?
That was a question I rather not try to answer, because I simply did not know. The more I thought about it, the hazier became the memory that had been so clear just moments before. Did I in fact see her, but not caring to slow down in time? Because I knew who she was? But what the fuck, why would I actually try to kill her?
She wasn't that annoying. She was just… a waste of space.
And that was no reason to hit her on purpose. Even I knew that.
It would do me no good if I continued obsessing over it. I didn't have the energy to deal with this right now. Not tonight.
I scrolled through the list of numbers on my phone and I smirked darkly to myself as I pressed the green button and put the phone to my ear. Getting out of here would be too easy.
It didn't take long for the skank to answer.
"Edward," she sang, and I tried not to cringe at her voice.
"Pick me up. I'm outside the hospital. And I don't have a ride to the party," I said bluntly.
"Oh, you're not sick are you?" she cooed, and I rolled my eyes.
"Are you going to pick me up or not? I have a lot of girls lining up to do the job if you're not up for it, Tanya," I said with an annoyed sigh.
"I'm on my way," she said quickly.
"Good," I replied curtly, before hanging up without as much as a bye.
I regretted calling her as soon as I had heard her voice. But I needed a fucking ride, and she was the safest bet – because I knew she would be fucking fast. If I knew her at all she would be here within five minutes.
And I needed a fucking distraction. Tanya was as good as any.
I leaned back on the bench and stretched out my legs. My entire body was stiff and I groaned loudly as I stretched my neck. The doctor said I didn't get a whiplash, but I begged to differ, since it hurt like a bitch.
My phone rang again, and I looked down on the display.
Alice.
I didn't need to think twice before declining the call. I was not in the mood to talk with the overly moral pixie, because her comforting would only make me feel worse. She would tell me shit like, "Isabella is a human being with feelings," and that she was so great, and so nice, and she didn't deserve this. Like I deserved this?
Fucking pixie.
A car honked, and I looked up. Tanya was here.
I looked down at my phone to look at the time and shook my head.
Three minutes.
Too easy.
"Baby, what happened? You're hurt," she said pouting her full lips when I got into the car. I glanced at her and cocked an eyebrow.
"I got into a knife fight." I smirked. "I won."
"You're so bad," she giggled and put the car into gear.
I kept the smirk on my face, because it was the only thing keeping me from going insane at that moment. I tried to act casual and be myself, but as soon as the car was moving I felt an uneasy fluttering in my stomach. And my head began to spin.
"So straight to Newton's or do you want me to stop somewhere and make your pain go away?" she teased and gave me a suggestive look. I felt the bile rise in my throat and I nodded frantically, as I tried to swallow it back down.
"Pull over somewhere," I managed to reply, my voice hoarse; it didn't even sound like me.
"Why, Edward, you surprise me," she giggled, misinterpreting my tone completely. She probably thought my husky voice was a good thing.
"Just… stop talking," I sighed and closed my eyes. I rested my elbow on the door and pinched the bridge of my nose. This feeling was unsettling. Was I carsick? Fuck no, I never got carsick. Maybe I have a concussion. They say that one of the signs of concussions is nausea. But this wasn't that kind of nausea, I just felt… off.
It took forever for her to find a place to pull over, and when she did, I was ready to burst. I needed air. I needed to get the fuck out of this fucking car. I threw open the door, jumped out quickly, and took a few deep and greedy breaths of fresh air. I heard her open her door and the sound of gravel, as she crept up behind me and put her arms around my waist.
"Don't worry, sweetie, I'm gonna make you feel so good," she whispered, and let her hand travel down to my crotch. She began rubbing my dick outside my pants and I closed my eyes, ready to feel the familiar stirring and the pleasure that followed…
Distraction. A good distraction…
Though I tried to let everything go and just enjoy the feeling of her skilled hands on my dick, there still was no fucking reaction from my body. I couldn't get hard.
Because all I could see when I closed my eyes was Isabella's wrecked body and her twisted leg… and the blood. Shit.
Isabella? Since when did I call her Isabella? She was not fucking Isabella to me. She was Goose. Or Duck. Or fucking Turkey.
She was not Isabella to me.
"C'mon, boy, you need more help getting ready?" Tanya giggled from behind, as her hand slid inside my jeans and inside my boxers. She grabbed my dick and stroked it a few times.
But my body wasn't fucking working. There was no fucking reaction whatsoever.
It didn't feel good.
Frankly, it felt fucking disgusting.
That's because you are disgusting. You almost killed a girl not two hours ago. And here you are, standing in the dark somewhere with a girl's hand down your pants.
I grabbed Tanya's wrist and pulled her hand out roughly.
"Let's get to the fucking party," I mumbled and walked back over to the car.
"Oh, you're right. It's fucking freezing…" she said and went over to the driver's side.
Freezing. Yeah. Like that was my problem.
I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that crept up my spine as soon as the car was moving again. I tried to think positively - we were just a few minutes away from the party. Just a few short minutes until I would get access to alcohol. I was going to drink until I passed out.
And forget this day ever happened.
The party was in full swing when we got there, and I quickly removed myself from Tanya and got lost in the crowd. I made it to the kitchen and grabbed the first bottle of vodka I saw. Cheap stuff, but it would do the trick. At least it wasn't flavored.
My cut drew more attention than I thought it would, and when people asked me what I had done, I just shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. It wasn't their fucking business anyway.
I removed the fucking bandage after a while, because it was itching like hell, and because it screamed, "Hey, look at me." But it was fucking useless, since I couldn't even cover the cut with my fucking hair anyway. At least it was slightly less noticeable, and I guess I should count the small victories in a shitty day like this.
My head was buzzing quite a bit after a while. But it wasn't the good kind of buzz. I wasn't happy and horny; I was anxious and brooding.
I was sitting on the kitchen counter, staring down at the bottle in my hands, when Tyler Crowley walked in with the biggest shit-eating grin ever. I cocked an eyebrow at him as he waved something in my face.
"Haha, look what I found in Newton's room!" he yelled.
"Stop waving whatever it is in my face or I'll punch you in yours," I replied sourly.
His grin faded a little, and when he stopped waving his hands around, I recognized what it was. I smirked lazily at the sight of Tyler holding that bright pink dildo. I wondered if Newton had used it yet…
"A dildo," I said, nodding as I took a swig from the bottle. "I always knew Newton liked it in his ass." Tyler chuckled at my comment.
"By the way, your brother is looking for you," he said and nodded towards the living room.
"Good for him," I replied coolly, without moving an inch.
Tyler gave me an odd look, before leaving the kitchen. I took yet another swig, gulping down the last remains. I threw the empty bottle in the sink next to me and sighed in annoyance. I wasn't drunk enough yet.
"There you are! Fucking ass, why haven't you answered your fucking phone?"
I groaned at the sound of my brother's voice and slowly turned my head to the doorway leading to the living room, and found not just my brother staring back at me, but Alice, Rose and Jasper too, as they were right behind him.
"I turned it off," I replied with a lazy shrug.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Mom is going crazy with worry. She thought you were passed out in a ditch somewhere, when she came home and noticed you weren't there," Emmett said irritated. "Shit, your forehead looks gross," he added, and I rolled my eyes.
"What happened, Edward? How is Isabella?" Alice asked with her gentle caring voice, which reminded me of the reason why I wasn't in the mood to talk to her. She pushed past Emmett so she could walk up to me.
"I wouldn't know. I didn't exactly stick around to find out," I replied with a shrug.
"Are you kidding? What the hell is wrong with you?" Rosalie asked, and we all turned our eyes to her in surprise. Who knew Rosalie of all people would care about this?
"Nothing is wrong with me. I'm fine, apart from this sexy, little cut," I said.
"Seriously, dude, didn't you stay long enough to find out if she's going to be okay or anything?" Emmett asked.
"Mom said she was in surgery. Dad was cutting her open, and if Dad is treating her, I'm sure she'll be perfectly fine. It's not my problem anymore," I replied.
"Oh fuck you, Cullen," Alice spat, narrowing her eyes at me. "Is it that hard for you to be human for even a minute?"
I chuckled humorlessly and jumped off the counter, almost falling on my ass in the process. I guess the booze had affected me more than I thought. I couldn't even stand upright like a normal person without holding on to something in order to not fall over.
I could feel the alcohol in my system, and since I had never removed my ass from the kitchen counter, I guess it was the reason why I never felt the alcohol hit.
Because now it did… and then some.
"I am human. See? I bleed and everything," I said, pointing to my cut, accidentally poking it in the process, and making it sting like a bitch. I didn't even have any control of my limbs anymore.
"Christ, you're wasted," Emmet sighed. "Let's get your fucking ass home."
Emmett grabbed my arm and all but dragged me out of the house. I guess I should have been thankful that he was holding on to me, or I would have fallen on my ass.
What the fuck was in that bottle anyway? Who knew that even cheap shit did the trick?
Ha ha, Cheap Trick…
I was just about to get into the car when someone grabbed my arm. I turned around lazily and found myself looking at a very drunk Tanya. And the only thing worse than a sober Tanya was a drunk one. Fantastic. This day just gets better and better…
"Leaving so soon? C'mon, Eddie, we never got to finish what we started," she complained, slurring slightly, and tugging on my arm. I looked down on her hands and smiled humorlessly.
"If I couldn't get it up for your sorry ass earlier, what makes you think I would be able to now?" I asked bluntly. Her face fell as she gaped at me.
"But… baby, it was cold…" she said quietly, and I wanted to roll my eyes at her sad attempt to come up with an explanation. If she knew what had happened tonight, then she sure as hell wouldn't be begging me to fuck her right now.
"I guess my cock is just tired of you. Bye, Tanya," I said tiredly, and slid into the car and slammed the door.
"Edward! Please tell me you didn't try to sleep with her after you almost killed a girl!" Alice hissed and leaned forward between the front seats. She glared at me, and I rolled my eyes.
"After you try to kill someone, you always have to sleep with someone else," I muttered sarcastically, and rested my head against the cool car window.
"How hard did you hit your head today, Edward? You seem even douchier than usual," Rosalie commented from the backseat. I wanted to laugh at her comment, because the whole situation was so ridiculous, but no sound escaped me.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. As I slowly breathed out again, all I could see was Swan and her body. Her body that I broke. All her blood that I spilled…
"I'm fine… but you should have seen Swan. Her leg was twisted in the most awkward way… and the blood… there was fucking blood everywhere… the taillights lit up everything, making everything look like it was covered in blood… quite beautiful really," I murmured to myself, without opening my eyes. I didn't even know what I was talking about anymore.
"Edward… how serious was this accident?" Jasper asked carefully.
"There was blood everywhere…" I murmured.
And then I passed out for the second time that night.
I woke up again when we got home, and Emmett was trying to help me out of the car. Mom was standing by the front door with her hands crossed over her chest and a disappointed look in her eyes.
"Edward, what are you doing to yourself?" she asked, as Emmett dragged me inside.
"I was drinking… isn't that what kids my age are supposed to do?" I slurred.
Emmett all but pushed me down on the couch in the living room, and the entire room was spinning when I tried to sit up.
Mom sat down beside me and rubbed my knee I didn't like it when she looked at me with those big eyes that held nothing but love and concern for me. I didn't fucking deserve her love. Or her concern.
I groaned, hid my face in my hands, and leaned back on the couch.
"Sweetie, what is going on with you? What were you thinking, going out drinking like this? You should have gone straight home. I've been worried sick," she scolded me, and she sighed softly when I didn't reply. "Your dad called a while ago. He was out of surgery…"
My hands fell down to my lap, and I looked at my mother. I didn't like the tone she was using. The tone she was using suggested that the surgery didn't end well. And I… I just couldn't deal with that right now.
"Did she die?" I asked, my voice empty and barely a whisper.
She shook her head softly and squeezed my knee reassuringly.
"No, she didn't… but her injuries are pretty severe. Your dad doesn't think she will…" Her voice cracked, "…ever get back to normal."
I immediately turned my eyes away. My throat was closing up on me again, and I felt that weird stirring in my stomach again at the mere mention of what happened to her.
"I thought we could go over to the hospital tomorrow and see how she is. Maybe we could buy her a flower or something," she suggested with a choked voice, and I didn't need to look at her to know that she was close to tears. I had apologized to her parents, and that was as far as I would go for Swan. I had done my part. Now I wanted to move on.
I stood up unsteadily. My legs were wobbly and I almost fell over.
"I don't want to see her. Why would I care how she is?" I asked in an emotionless voice.
"Because that's the right thing to do," she replied, a single tear trailed down her cheek.
I wanted to scoff at her words. The right thing to do, my ass.
The right thing to do would have been not hitting her in the first place.
"Sweetie, I know this is hard for you… but you can't act like this doesn't matter to you. You were in a serious accident. You are allowed to feel," she said softly.
I finally looked her in the eyes, and she flinched slightly at whatever she saw in my gaze.
"I am feeling, Mother, believe me, I'm fucking feeling. And what I'm feeling right now is annoyance. Because that bitch had no reason to be out there in the first place. I'm annoyed because now I will have to wait to get my car repaired again. And I'm fucking annoyed because all of you expect me to care what the fuck happens to her now," I snapped at her eyes grew wide.
"Edward…" My name was the only word that left her lips, but all she wanted to convey was within that simple word. The sorrow and the pain in her voice pierced my heart – or at least the area where my heart was supposed to be – and the disappointment in her eyes twisted everything inside of me. She had never looked at me like that before. She was giving up on me. I could tell.
And I was not going to stand there for another minute, just to see how her motherly love for me slowly faded into nothing. I knew I didn't deserve her love, but that didn't mean I wanted to see it leave…
"I'm going to bed, good night," I mumbled.
She didn't say anything. And this time she didn't need to. Her silence said enough.
My head was pounding when I woke up in the morning. It felt like my brain tried to hammer its way out. I don't know whether the reason was the booze or the cut, and frankly, I didn't care. All I cared about right now was getting something for the fucking pain.
I grabbed my pajama-pants, not bothering with a t-shirt and pulled them on, before walking downstairs. I walked over to Dad's office, opening the door without knocking, since I figured he wasn't home anyway. But I was proven wrong, when I found him sitting by his desk, going through his usual shit from the hospital.
"My head is fucking pounding. I need something," I muttered, and he looked up.
His reading glasses were perched on his nose, and the look in his eyes was not kind.
"That's what you get when you are stupid enough to go drinking right after a serious accident," he replied coolly.
"Oh c'mon, I wasn't hurt. I'm fine," I replied with a sigh.
"Yes, and thank God for that," he said exasperated, putting down his glasses. "Do you have any idea how long I spent in surgery last night? Trying to correct the damage you cause?"
I shrugged. I didn't like the way he pinned the accident on me. It wasn't my fault.
"I don't care." For some reason, there was a slight tremble in my voice.
"Of course you don't," he replied harshly. "Why would the big, important Edward Cullen care? He almost killed a girl, but who cares? Right? And I heard you spoke to Chief Swan too. He said you apologized by telling him that his daughter jumped in front of the car… and even if that was true, why the hell would you go tell him that to his face? What is wrong with you?"
I crossed my arms awkwardly over my naked chest and looked away. I tried to look bored, like I simply didn't give a crap about what he thought, and that I was just waiting for him to finish. And I hoped he was angry enough not to notice the slight trembling of my bottom lip.
I'm not about to fucking cry. I'm not a fucking girl.
"I'm gonna go to the hospital today. And tell her I'm sorry, and that I didn't mean to hit her. Will that make you happy?" I asked.
"You will not step your foot in that hospital, you hear me? You leave Isabella Swan and her family alone! You did enough damage last night. I thought you were going to handle the situation like an adult, and at least wait until you found out how she was doing before leaving. But no, going out and getting drunk with your friends was more important… but not before ripping her parent's hearts out," he snapped. His neck was getting red, and I knew he was about to reach his boiling point.
"Whatever," I snorted, not even caring that I was pushing him.
"You will not put your foot in that hospital, understood?" he said again and I nodded. "Good. I want you to stay indoors today, and I will deal with you when I get back from work tonight."
"What do you mean 'deal with me'? It was a fucking accident! Why am I getting punished for it?" I asked and he tilted his head and gave me a pointed look.
"I will deal with you later," was all he said in response to my question. "Take an aspirin from the bathroom, and put a band-aid back on your forehead. You shouldn't let it be exposed like that. And go back to bed. You look like hell."
I all but slammed the door behind me as I left.
There was a weird ache in my chest, but it didn't feel physical. I simply didn't understand it. I rubbed my chest with my hand, as I walked back upstairs. The ache didn't subside. It felt like a weird pressure, making every breath feel like such a labor.
I went into the upstairs bathroom and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. It felt light, and I heard nothing when I shook it. I opened the bottle and looked inside.
Empty. Of fucking course.
This is what you get when you run over someone, idiot.
You are left with a disgusting cut, a pounding headache and no aspirin.
Deal with it.
I couldn't go back to sleep. My head was killing me – but it wasn't all about the pain anymore. My mind was slowly starting to process the previous day, and everything that had been said and done came back to me. Each memory more vivid and painful than the other. And I hated the way it all made me feel…
I couldn't wipe the sight of Swa- Goose's broken body from my mind, and the way my mother had looked at me in the living room. And now I could add my dad's respect for me to the list of things I managed to screw up. My father might not agree with how I was living my life, but he always said he respected me. When I left his office this morning, I knew that said respect was history.
That hurt more than it should. Why would I care whether or not my dad respected me? He's my dad for crying out loud. He's forced to love me no matter what I did, so I didn't need his fucking respect.
But still, it all added to the weird ache in my chest.
I spent an eternity in my shower, trying to wash off the failures of yesterday, trying not to cringe when the water and soap came in contact with the cut. And I felt just as dirty when I stepped out as I did when I stepped in.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and sat down by my keyboard. I didn't lift my hands from my lap. I just stared at the black and white keys, letting them taunt me with their silence.
Haha, you can't play! You can't play! You're messed up! You're messed up!
There was a knock on my door, and it squeaked open a moment later.
"Morning, bro, what's up?" Emmett said, giving me a smile that I knew was just as fake as Tanya's nose.
"I'm awesome," I replied, without looking up.
He sighed and sat down on my bed.
"Of course you are," he replied with a sigh. "What did you say to Mom last night anyway? I heard her crying in their room after Dad came home, and he had to spend like an hour just to calm her down."
"I was just being honest," I muttered.
"Yeah, and that's what scares me," he muttered.
I shot my eyes to him, and he was frowning at me.
"I told her I didn't care what the fuck happened to the Goose, alright?" I snapped.
"C'mon, bro… don't call her that, what the hell?" he sighed, looking frustrated.
"This accident changes nothing, alright? She meant nothing to me before, and she means nothing to me now. Why would I start caring just because I fucking hit her with my car? It was her fucking fault anyway. What the hell was she doing in the middle of nowhere?" I said, gesturing wildly with my arms, feeling the aggravation pulsate through my body.
"You're a fucking douche, you know that?" he said, standing up. "You almost killed her, and you act like it doesn't even matter that she almost lost her fucking life. I know you don't like her and that it was all an accident, but dude, c'mon! She's a person, just like you. And how can you not care that you almost killed her… accident or not?"
I glared at him without answering, and he sighed, shaking his head, as he turned to walk out of the room. "I thought more of you, bro," he sighed, before closing the door behind him.
I looked back down on the keyboard and I bit down on my tongue - so hard I could taste the blood - in order not to scream out loud. Dealing with this would be so much easier if people didn't keep telling me to care. Why couldn't they just leave me alone? Why did they have to push me like this and keep throwing shit in my face, as if I wasn't aware of everything they said already?
Of course I was aware I almost robbed someone of their life yesterday. And no, I wasn't fucking happy with that fact. Of course I felt bad…
I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose hard between my fingers. The cut was stinging by the way I was squeezing my eyes shut, but I didn't care. The pain was welcome.
I almost killed Swan.
I lied to her dad, by basically saying she tried to kill herself.
I told my mother I didn't care what happened to her.
And I acted like I was fine with it all.
I wasn't okay with it.
The ache in my chest was a painful fucking proof of that.
I was the most skilled driver in Forks.
And I ended up almost killing a person.
How does shit like that even happen?
My hand fell down on my lap and I looked out the window.
If she had died, would I still claim I didn't care?
Or was it easy to say I didn't care because I knew she was still breathing?
"Isabella…" I murmured, and the name alone twisted something in my gut.
I left my place at the keyboard and went back to bed, I reached for the remote control on my nightstand and turned on the flat-screen that was hanging on the opposite wall.
Maybe some TV would get my mind off things…
I stayed in bed for the rest of the day. I didn't even get up to get something to eat. I had no fucking appetite.
Mom always used to make me something to eat and bring it to my room when I was sick. But I guess this didn't count as 'sick', and the fact that she hadn't even been up to my room at all during the day spoke volumes about how much she must hate me right now…
She didn't even call me down to dinner. And neither did Dad or Emmett.
The logical part of my brain told me that they were just trying to give me space and let me deal with things on my own for a while, but the illogical part of my brain told me that they simply didn't care, and that my behavior towards them had been unforgivable.
But I could not believe that, no matter what I said or did, my family would never turn their backs on me. Not even if I had killed her on purpose.
They are just giving me space. That is all.
When the red digits on my alarm clock switched to 8:00 pm, I knew I had to get the fuck out of there. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic in my own room, and that was never a good sign.
I pulled on the same clothes I had on yesterday, and made my way downstairs. The house was quiet, apart from the low voices from the dining room, and I was actually happy that they hadn't asked me to join them.
I quietly left the house, and walked down the steps of the front porch, quickly running down the driveway into the woods. I didn't slow down until I no longer could see the house behind me. It would take forever to walk to town from here, since I was used to taking the car, but it was alright. I needed the fresh air in order to sort all my thoughts.
I didn't know how long I walked for, and I had no thoughts on where to go either. I just let my feet guide me wherever they wanted. And I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I found myself outside the hospital. My subconscious was obviously mocking me.
I looked at the clock on my phone; it was after ten. Visiting hours had ended hours ago.
But if I didn't care about what happened to her, why would I care about something as trivial as visiting hours? I scoffed at myself as I walked up the entrance.
I had no idea where her room was, but I figured she was in the ICU. I took the elevator to the fourth floor, and was just about to walk over to the nurses' station, to ask what room was hers, when I saw a familiar woman leave a room nearby. Mrs. Swan. Her long brown hair was flowing down her shoulders, and I was once again struck by just how similar she and her daughter looked.
She walked past me, looking upset, and she didn't even throw a glance my way. Maybe she didn't recognize me, and that was probably a good thing.
I steered myself in the direction of Swan's room. And when I reached the door, I… kept on walking. I just couldn't fucking do it. What the hell was I supposed to say anyway? And what the fuck was I trying to prove by coming here?
I told everybody over and over again that I didn't care. So what the hell was I doing here? I obviously cared about something, or else I wouldn't be here. Maybe I was just trying to prove to everyone that I wasn't as big an ass as they all thought.
I paced back and forth in the hallway, and I saw Chief Swan leave the room shortly after. I stared at the door as it slowly shut behind him, and I sighed.
She was most likely alone now. I could apologize to her, or just make sure she was still fucking breathing. She fucking owed me that much.
I thought over what I was going to say, and decided on telling her that I didn't do it on purpose, tell her that I was fucking sorry that I was the cause of her injuries, and that I was sorry that she may never fully recover to what she was before.
Whatever that meant…
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
She didn't notice me at first. She was looking down on her hands with a strange expression on her face, like she was trying to figure something out or some shit. I took the time to look her over – she had always been small, but her body appeared even smaller in the hospital bed, with all her limbs covered up in gauze and plaster. Even though every single part of her body seemed to be more or less injured, she still had some kind of weird aura or something about her that made her appear strong.
"Hi…" I said lamely. It caught her attention, and she snapped her eyes up, flinching slightly for some reason before her eyes went wide when she met my gaze.
I was struck by all the emotions in her eyes. She didn't look afraid or scared of me, which I had expected, but simply… pissed.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
I was slightly taken aback by her annoyed tone, but I should not have been surprised. There was a fire in her eyes that showed that she was not about to take any crap from me today. I put my hands in my pockets and looked around awkwardly. This would have been so much fucking easier if she had been the shy, little lamb, not talking back like this…
"I wanted to see… if you were… you know… breathing." I shrugged, hoping it looked nonchalant, and that my voice didn't betray me, making her aware of the fact that I was freaking out.
"Yes, as you can see, I'm still breathing. No thanks to you," she replied with a sarcastic smile.
I looked at her incredulously. Was she for real? I was trying to apologize, goddamnit, and I sure as hell didn't need her fucking attitude. This was hard enough as it was, and I guess I simply couldn't contain my anger and irritation, when I lashed out at her and raised my voice. But she didn't seem to be affected at all; she just continued to reply icily to anything I said after that.
Then came the punch line. She asked me if I was there to get money from her for the car repairs. And the comment was like a punch in the fucking gut – though it sounded sarcastic, I was sure she was genuinely asking me.
Did she actually believe I was that damn cold?
I couldn't believe she actually threw that in my face. Who the hell did she think she was?
She should be counting herself fucking lucky that I was even there in the first place to apologize. Edward fucking Cullen rarely apologized to anyone, especially not to people who were such obvious wastes of space.
The shit really hit the fan when my dad walked in and found me there; the anger in his eyes was nothing like I've ever seen before.
"What are you doing here, son? I thought I asked you to leave Miss Swan alone," he said to me, his anger barely contained in his voice, before looking over at Swan. "Is he bothering you?"
"Nah, he was just giving me the total on how much it cost to repair his car," she replied calmly, and Dad shot his eyes to me so quickly I flinched. Before I knew it I had been dragged out into the hallway. I guess I now knew where Emmett got his strength from…
As soon as we were out in the hallway, he began to lash out on me, and I tried to take it like a man, since I knew he was right. I had no reason to be there, and I knew I should have kept my ass at home, and not disobeyed him by coming here. I wasn't helping matters. Fuck. I knew that.
But c'mon, she didn't have to throw me to the wolves like that either. I fucking apologized to her. What more did she want from me?
I tried to cut him off, telling him that I just wanted to see how she was doing, but he never let me finish. Then he told me about her injuries, and I didn't even know how or what the hell I was supposed to respond to that. When he spoke about her injuries, it all became real to me, and reality hit me like a ton of bricks.
"She will never walk like a normal person and she will never ever run again. Because you crushed her leg. Do you even comprehend what kind of damage you've done?"
No. I couldn't comprehend that.
She would never fucking run again. How was I ever going to be able to grasp something like that?
He pushed me out towards the elevators, after he was done lecturing me, telling me to call Emmett or my mom to get picked up.
"And if I see you here again…" he threatened in a low voice, not needing to finish the sentence.
I just nodded, as I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the bottom floor.
I closed my eyes, and images of Swan flashed before my eyes. Memories of her broken body on the cold road, and her bandaged up body in the hospital bed, all flashed before me and assaulted all of my senses.
But even though it seemed like there was no part of her that was not bruised or hurt, she still seemed more alive and stronger than I've ever seen her at school. The fire in her eyes had not been there before, and the way she talked back to me and actually lied to my father about the money thing just… wow… she had insane survival instincts. That's for sure. I'll give her that much.
The more I thought about it, though, I came to the conclusion that she only had strong survival instincts and the gut to speak her mind when she was at the hospital, and probably because she knew she was just seconds away from getting saved by a nearby doctor. All she had to do was yell.
There was no doubt in my mind that the fire in her eyes would be gone as soon as she was out. And she would once again become the wallflower at school and she would never talk back to me again…
I picked up my phone when I came outside, calling Emmett and asking him to pick me up. He didn't ask me what I was doing there; I guess it was obvious even to him. I sat down on the same bench that I had sat on just twenty hours before, to wait for my brother.
Swan would go back to being the loser that she was, wasting the space she occupied and annoying me with her mere presence. Yes, of course she would… this didn't change anything.
The accident didn't change her, and it most certainly didn't change me. It was just an unfortunate happening that would soon be forgotten and we would never speak of it again.
We would all forget. And there would be no reminders.
"She will never walk like a normal person and she will never ever run again."
No reminders, indeed.