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 & vasweetpea07]
Chapter 18 – Disposable
Isabella Swan POV
I decided that I was not going to blame Edward. I was going to be the bigger person and accept the situation as it was. It was nothing but an accident. I would gain nothing by blaming it all on him; it was not like he could have prevented the accident anyway. Black ice could be a bitch, even I knew that. He didn't hurt me on purpose, and therefore, there was no reason for me to hold a grudge.
That was why I apologized to him. I wasn't sorry for causing the accident; I was sorry for what he had been forced to go through because of it. The accident was neither of our faults, and I was certain he knew and believed that too… somewhere deep inside.
I couldn't even begin to relate to his situation. Even though we were both part of the same accident, he was still the one who had to carry the heavier burden. He was the one behind the wheel after all.
That was probably why I tried to make everything okay with him. I felt like I needed him to know I was sorry. However crazy it may sound; I needed him to forgiveme. I might not like him, he most certainly didn't like me, but I still felt that crazy need. It was as if it wasn't even about him anymore. I just needed to fix something and make something okay. I knew I could never fix my past with my mother, but I could fix this.
It looked like he was in a lot of pain; he even had to grip the desk in order to keep upright. At that moment I didn't care about what a jerk he usually was, because I knew all about emotional pain and scars. I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone, not even on my worst enemy, which in some ways just happened to be Edward.
The words tumbled out of my mouth before I got a chance to think them through. It was something in Edward's eyes that brought them out, and I could see in them that I had just made a mistake. A huge mistake. A mistake I was about to pay for.
Great. Here I was trying to apologize and let him know I knew he was hurting too and what do I get? Another glare and probably another nickname if I'm lucky.
"'You're not the only one who's hurting?'" Edward echoed incredulously and piled his books on the desk. "Do you even hear yourself? That must be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I won't even dignify that shit with an answer." He scoffed and shook his head.
"Why? Because it's true?" I asked, and he cocked an eyebrow at me.
"Don't flatter yourself, Goose. Why would I be hurting? I have everything going for me. My life is fucking awesome and is nothing like the pathetic existence that is your life," he replied with a sickly sweet voice, which was far more insulting than if he had snapped at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and brought my bottom lip into my mouth. That comment hit a little too close to home for me to just shrug it off, and I could see in his eyes that he knew that too.
That's why he said it, stupid.
"I don't know about you," I continued quietly. "But if I…if I… you know what? Never mind." I shook my head at my own stupidity. Why was I torturing myself like this? I would never able to fix this no matter what I said, so why the hell was I even trying?
I wobbled away towards the door and out into the hallway. I thought that would be the end of it and I could get out of the conversation with my pride somewhat intact. Of course I was wrong like so many times before. I hadn't gone far before I heard calm and collected footsteps behind me.
"But what?" Edward asked in a frustrated tone as he fell into step beside me. I glanced at him and had to hold back the snort that threatened to escape. Why did he look so frustrated? Was he really so used to getting the last word that it pained him that he didn't get it this time too?
"I'm just saying that it's like you said. You… maimed me," I said quietly, and I had a hard time getting the word out because it sounded so wrong, as if the blame was all on him."And if it had been me behind the wheel, then I know I would have surely been hurting… because it must be a difficult thing to live with…" I was nearly whispering at this point, and I was feeling very self-conscious about having him so close with no other people around. I could almost feel the warmth radiating off of his body.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and noticed that a weird half-smirk was gracing his lips. He glanced at me too, and I quickly looked away. The smirk along with the cold stare sent chills down my spine. I should have kept my mouth shut.
"If you ran over a bird with your car… would you be hurting then?" he asked with a casual tone. I frowned at the random question and shrugged awkwardly in response.
"I don't know… I guess? I would feel bad, of course… but I don't know if I would really be hurting because of it," I replied honestly while wondering what the hell that had to do with anything. "If the bird was injured but not dead, then I would feel really bad about it, since there isn't much one can do if you injure a bird… it would have to be put down… so I guess I would feel worse if the bird lived rather than if it died. If it died, then at least it wouldn't be suffering anymore." I knew I was rambling, but for some reason I felt the need to answer the question honestly and seriously, without any jokes.
I threw another glance at him and saw that he was still smirking. But now the smirk was twisted in an odd way and his face held a mixture of different emotions. I didn't know what to make of it at all; it was as if he was satisfied with my answer but at the same time disgruntled.
"Then you understand why the fuck I'm not hurting. Because all I did was hit a fucking bird, and the bird didn't even die," he replied darkly. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at him in bewilderment.
Was that what he meant by that?
He took another few steps before he realized I had stopped. He slowly turned to look at me. His face still held that twisted smirk, but for some reason it appeared to be forced, like he had a hard time keeping his cocky and arrogant mask in place.
"So you're basically telling me you wish I had… died?" I managed to choke out.
"I'm telling you that I wouldn't have cared either way. You're the Goose. You're a bird. You are disposable." His voice was emotionless and monotone. It sounded like he was reciting something from a book and it didn't matter if he believed it or not. As if this was the truth and there was nothing he could do about it.
"I'm… I'm…" I was at a loss for words. I was literally speechless as I was struck by the weird sense of déjà vu. I had heard those exact words before. He was not the first one to utter them to me.
She smiled at me as I gnawed on my lip. I didn't know what was going on and I didn't like it. She lit another candle, and it was apparently one of those strawberry scented ones because the strong scent hit me like a ton of bricks. The scent was way too strong, and it was stinging my nose.
"This is going to be great," she murmured to herself. "Everything is going to be exactly like I always imagined." She looked up at me with a serious expression, and I felt my stomach drop. "You are clean, aren't you, Bella?" I didn't know what to say because I didn't know what she was asking me. So I did the only sensible thing; I nodded because that seemed to be the answer she was looking for.
She was smiling as she picked up the sharp kitchen knife from the table. It shone in the light from the candles and the sight sent chills down my spine. I did not want to know what she needed the knife for; there was no food at this table. I wrapped my arms around my legs as I sat on the floor, and I glanced over at Billy Black, who was sitting in his wheelchair a few feet away. He was smiling too.
"Don't worry, Renée. She's clean… and if she's not, that's okay too. She's disposable," Billy replied in an eerily calm and quiet voice. I shot my eyes to my mom in bewilderment. What did that mean exactly? That I was disposable?
"Mom… what's going on? I don't like this," I said in a shaky whisper and felt a traitorous tear fall down my cheek. I was scared. No, I was beyond scared. I was terrified. I didn't like this.
"Sssh, baby girl," she cooed. "It's all going to be okay…don't worry… we love you, we won't let any harm come to you."
I met her gaze, and I winced at what I yet again found in her eyes. Her eyes were so empty. Her pupils were even more dilated than before, now to the point where you could no longer see her irises at all. There was no emotion in her eyes. She wasn't looking at me like a mother gazes at her daughter. She was looking at me as if I was a stranger to her. Her words of affection did not match the emotionless pools that were her eyes. And never in my life had I been more terrified.
"Jacob… please wrap this scarf around her eyes," Mom said.
Jacob, who had been standing in the doorway for the entire time, took a shaky step forward. The terror I felt was mirrored in his eyes. He took the scarf from my mom's hands, and he met my gaze before he wrapped the thing around my eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said with a pained voice. "I'm so, so sorry."
I choked at the memory and tried to shake my head to clear my mind from it. Edward was still standing in front of me with that emotionless expression. I almost flinched at the way he reminded me of my mother.
Edward was right. Billy was right. They were all right.
I am disposable.
If even the person who gave life to me thought that, then it must be true, and I should not have been surprised when Edward shared that particular opinion.
Was it an opinion or was it a fact?
Of course it's a fact.
Nobody had ever given me a reason to think otherwise.
Why am I still here, again?
"You… I… I got to go," I mumbled. I turned on my crutches and walked back the other way. He grumbled something under his breath, and I thought he was going to let me leave. I should have known better, considering this was Edward – and his sole purpose in life was to make my life miserable - he spoke up before I could turn the corner.
"Fuck," he growled. "That's not what I fucking meant!"
I stopped and turned my body a little, but not enough so I was facing him.
"Then what did you mean?" I asked in a quiet voice. He sighed deeply and strode over to me with calculated steps. He dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, and his shoulders slumped. I could tell by his stance that he was stiff as a board.
"Let's get one thing straight, alright?" he began, and I nodded uncertainly. "You're the Goose, and you're nothing but the Goose to me, alright?" I nodded again. "I'm not fucking hurting because of what happened, but I am fucking annoyed that people won't let that shit go. I hit a patch of black ice, so fucking what? It could have happened to anyone. And it was just fucking unfortunate that you happened to be in the way. Alright? I don't wish you died, because then I could be convicted for fucking manslaughter or some shit. I wouldn't want to go to jail and become someone's bitch just because I ran over a bird!" He had pulled his hands from his pockets and gestured wildly as he spoke, though his body still appeared to be stiff and tense. The situation was aggravating him to no end, I could tell. I had never considered myself a good judge of character or a people reader, but there was something about Edward and the way he said things that made me wonder who he was trying to convince. Me or him?
I studied Edward as he spoke, and the thing I noticed the most was how he kept dragging his right hand through his hair and how his eyes darted all over the place. He didn't look at me at all. I wondered why that was. Was he afraid someone would catch us and somehow get the wrong idea?
"I'm not a bird," I said calmly when he was done and stared at him with all the confidence I could muster – which, frankly, wasn't much. Edward scared me, especially when he was talking like this. He was unpredictable, and he was violent. During an earlier class, I had overheard a couple of students talking about how Edward had knocked Mike down just because he made some stupid comment about the accident. Therefore, it was impossible for me to know what to expect from Edward. Was he going to punish me too for even putting him in this situation to begin with?
I could delude myself into thinking I was not afraid of him until I was blue in the face. But the reality was that I was scared of him, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.
"You're the Goose," he replied simply.
"No."
He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I pursed my lips.
"No?" he echoed, and I nodded.
"Yes. No." I replied and shook my head at how stupid I sounded. He shook his head too, and I swear he let out a quiet chuckle. But the small smile that accompanied it disappeared quickly as he met my gaze. The cold mask was back and all the humor was gone.
"You ruined my fucking life, you know that?" he said with a quiet and dark tone.
I knew that was true to an extent. I had told him I was sorry, but I still had a hard time grasping how he could say that to my face like that.
Who was the one wearing the cast, again?
It was not a conscious act on my part, but I found myself bending over slightly, knocking on my cast with a finger. The sound echoed in the empty hallway, and Edward looked down on it.
"I ruined your life, you say?" My voice was quiet and held more emotions than I was comfortable with. "My leg is crushed, and I'm in pain. And you still say I ruined your life? What exactly did I ruin anyway? Your car? I'm sorry, but as far as I know you can always replace a car. I can't really replace my leg." He narrowed his eyes at me, and his nostrils flared as he held back his anger.
"Again, Goose, you say that as if I care about you. I don't. All I care about is how this screwed up my life. My parents are on the fucking verge on disowning me. My brother won't talk to me and my friends think I'm a jerk! So excuse me if I don't care about your fucking leg!" he snapped.
That was it? Was that how I had screwed up his life? Really? At least he had parents that cared enough to disown him! At least he had a brother! At least he had friends!
I didn't know what to say. He had yet again left me speechless.
"You're… you're cold. I know you don't like me, and that you think I'm some kind of vermin or something… but if it had been me behind the wheel, then I sure as hell would have cared if I had crippled someone for life. No matter how I felt for that person before… because that's the human and considerate thing to do. All you care about is yourself and how this is affecting you. You don't even begin to think about how this is affecting me. Your life will go back to normal. Mine won't." I felt my voice grow weaker with each passing word, until I was simply whispering. My voice was weak and fragile and it took a lot of effort for me to even get the words out. How could he be so heartless?
"This is all your fault," he spat, "because if you hadn't been in the middle of nowhere for no reason at all, then this wouldn't have fucking happened. What the hell were you doing out there anyway? Shouldn't you have been home doing whatever birds like you do? Like eating seeds or some shit?"
What was I doing out there? That was the million dollar question wasn't it? What exactly was my plan that night that led me to that empty road where my truck broke down?
Did Edward deserve to know? Would it make a difference?
I gnawed on my lip and looked down.
"I was making the world a better place," I mumbled and turned away from him. I didn't want to have this conversation anymore. I didn't want to give Edward any more ammunition in his quest to bring me down.
He had other plans, however, and he grabbed my arm roughly and turned me to him. I was prepared to see the hatred and contempt in his eyes but I saw neither.
"Did you jump in front of my car?" he asked. I was surprised by the emotion in his voice. It wasn't cold and menacing at all. In fact, he sounded… scared. There was a sense of desperation in his tone, as if his life was hanging on the answer to the question. Like he didn't already know. How could he not know?
I slowly shook my head.
"No, I didn't… but right now I kind of wish I did," I replied honestly. He dropped his grip on my arm as if he had burned himself and nodded.
"Yeah, maybe you should have," he agreed with an empty tone. "It's like you said… it's easier if the bird died. So you don't need to see it suffer."
That was his parting line because as soon as the words left his lips he turned on his heels and walked away. I followed him with my eyes for a moment, before turning too and walking the other way.
Edward was right. I should have died.
I swear I could almost feel something break apart in my chest. Even though that would have been impossible - it had to be some kind of phantom pain. There was nothing in my chest that could break. I had no heart. I was disposable after all and no one with a heart could ever be disposable.
I felt my steps waver, and I had a hard time keeping upright. I stumbled into a locker and stopped trying to force my feet forward. I leaned my body against the locker, while my body shook in silent and tearless sobs. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the pain, but this time it was nearly impossible.
This wasn't a physical pain; this was an emotional one, and no breathing in the world could make it pass. Everything was too overwhelming. My chest ached, and it felt as if I was breaking apart. Piece by piece.
"Bella… Bella… look at me… Isabella Marie Swan! Look at me!" Mom was yelling at me now and it felt like her voice came from all around me. I tried to keep my head upright, but it felt like I didn't have any bones left in my neck. How did she expect me to look at her when I couldn't even see her with this thing covering my eyes?
I felt lips against my wrist. If I hadn't known any better, I would have believed my mom was kissing me. But I knew better. Even in my dizzy state, I knew better.
"It's not working," she complained.
"Give it time," Billy replied calmly. "It can take days..."
"But there's no difference!" she continued to complain.
"Patience, Renée," Billy chided. "Give it time."
She sighed deeply, and I winced when I once again felt the cold edge of the knife slice my skin. It did so effortlessly, as if my skin was nothing but butter. She must have sharpened it beforehand, I thought.
"Oh, Bella, what a mess you've made," Mom said, and I felt her dab something cold on my fresh wounds. "But it will be alright. It's for your own good…"
"Mom… please… stop… I… I don't feel so good." I tried to keep the whining to a minimum, but at this point I was desperate. The pain from the cuts was beginning to make me really dizzy, and it hurt even though there was a weird dulling sensation radiating from where she dabbed me with the cold cloth.
"Jacob… Jake," I said, but the words came out in a slur. I needed Jacob. He could help me. He could take me to the hospital. I needed the hospital.
"Jacob is otherwise occupied at the moment," Mom said to me firmly. "And please, Bella, be quiet. You're ruining everything. It's like you don't even have a heart."
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I silently registered that the bell was ringing. I was not back from my memory though, until I felt someone tug at my arm. I slowly opened my eyes and locked gazes with Alice.
"You alright?" she asked in concern. I smiled grimly and shook my head. "What is it? Is it your leg? Are you in pain? You want me to take you to the nurse? I can drive you home." Her words came out in a rush, and she almost sounded panicked. I just kept shaking my head.
"I'll be fine. I just need a moment here," I said with a weak voice.
"Are you sure? You look kind of pale," she noted.
"Yes, I'm sure," I said. "Don't you worry about me… worry about Edward instead."
Alice frowned and pursed her perfect, glossy lips.
"No, I'm not going to worry about him at all, because he's not the one on the verge of passing out in the middle of the hallway at the moment," she commented.
"Might be so, but he's still your friend and I am not," I sighed and pushed myself from the locker and steadied myself on my crutches. "Thanks for your concern, but it's not my well being you should be worried about."
I wobbled away and silently thanked my lucky stars that she didn't follow me. I went directly to the next class without passing my locker and took my usual seat in the back. I put my backpack on the empty seat next to mine and picked up my notebook. I turned to a blank page and put it down on my desk.
All I could see - even though the page before me was blank - was the drawing that Edward had made. An eerily beautiful, yet scary, drawing of the accident. The details were exquisite, and it had appeared as though every detail had been put down with utmost care and attention. Nothing had been drawn randomly and everything served a purpose.
Maybe that was why it was so scary. While the drawing undoubtedly was a picture of the accident – there was a few details that were changed.
My car might have been there and his car might be beaten up with blood on the hood. Every detail suggested it was our accident – but it wasn't, because my body wasn't the one lying on the road.
It was his.
His eyes had been open, and his face had been drawn so realistically that it felt as if he was looking right at me. I had been so mesmerized by this that I almost missed that he had drawn me too.
I was sitting behind the wheel of the Volvo. My face was partly shadowed by the broken windshield. My face had been drawn with so much care and attention to detail that it was scary. My eyes were big and expressive, and I could almost feel the fear behind them.
The only thing that had felt out of place was the single tear on my cheek.
And he said he wasn't hurting?
Who was he trying to kid with drawings like that? It was as if he didn't even want to acknowledge that the accident had occurred in the first place. The boy was in denial, no doubt about it.
I had been so lost in thought, as I stared down on the blank page, that I didn't notice that class had started until the bell rang, signaling the end of class. I looked up in confusion and saw my classmates leaving the classroom. I quickly gathered my things and wobbled my way out.
The halls were full with the roaming of students, and I was pushed around quite a lot, even though I tried to avoid it by walking as near the walls as I could.
I didn't pay any attention to what I put in my bag when I reached my locker; I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I followed the stream of students towards the parking lot. I tried to spot the cruiser, but it was nowhere in sight.
I guess Dad's not here yet.
I leaned against the stone wall and watched as all the other students said goodbye to their friends and got into their cars.
"Isabella, do you want a ride?" I jumped in surprise at Emmett's sudden voice so close to my ear. I winced at the pain that radiated from my leg when I moved so suddenly. Emmett saw this, of course, and he frowned a little. "Sorry," he said and wrinkled his nose in an adorable way.
"It's okay," I replied automatically.
"So do you want a ride? We have room," he asked again, and I shook my head.
"My dad is picking me up," I replied and forced him a smile.
"You sure?" he asked with a grin. I bit my lip and looked away – just to be met by the sight of Edward. Edward was standing by Emmett's car, which was parked not too far from where we were standing. He was looking at me – not glaring for once – with a frown on his face.
"I think your brother is waiting for you," I said quietly instead of answering his question. Emmett threw a look over his shoulder and scoffed.
"Let him wait, it's not like he's going anywhere without me anyway," he replied and turned back to me. "So… no ride?" I shook my head again.
"No, but thanks."
"Anytime, little one, anytime. See ya tomorrow. Don't get into any more accidents, alright?" He joked with a wink. I chuckled and shook my head at his silliness.
"I'll try," I joked back with a small smile. "But I can't promise anything."
He let out a loud laugh, which made a couple of passing students jump in surprise, which in turn made him laugh even more.
"Well alright there, Isabella… Bella… can I call you Bella?" he asked and I was a little taken aback by the question. Nicknames were for friends and family only, not for people who didn't even know you existed until a week ago.
"Eh… I don't… No… I rather… no," I stuttered uncomfortably.
"Okay then, Isabella it is. See ya tomorrow," he agreed, not seeming bothered at all by my answer. He grinned at me as he walked away towards Edward, and I sighed in relief at finally being alone again.
The parking lot was slowly being emptied of cars and people, and soon there was none. I was the only one left. There was still no sight of Dad or the cruiser. I had called him, both to his cell and his work phone, but it went directly to voicemail. A normal person would have begun to worry that maybe something had happened to him, but that was the last thing running through my head at the moment. All I could think about was how frustrating it was to wait for him, and I began to wonder if he had forgotten all about me. For some reason that felt more likely than that something had happened to him. This was Forks after all, what the hell could have happened to him in this town? Did he get attacked by a wolf? I don't think so.
The first thirty minutes went by pretty fast, but after a while it began to get a little chilly. My jacket did nothing to keep out the cold. I glanced at the clock again and saw that it had almost been an hour since he was supposed to pick me up.
I grabbed my crutches with a deep sigh and began my walk down the empty parking lot towards the road. I had no other choice but to walk home now. There were no buses that went by my house, and I could not afford a cab either.
Walking with crutches down the road proved to be quite a challenge; it was nowhere near as simple as walking indoors. The ground was too uneven and it was nothing short of a miracle that I was even able to move forward without falling flat on my face; especially since I tripped every other step I took and my death grip on my crutches was the only thing keeping me from falling.
I tried to find a rhythmic pace that worked for me, just like at school, but it was impossible due to the uneven ground. It took me almost fifteen minutes to walk just two short blocks. At this speed, it would take me a week to get home – if I was lucky.
"You're trying to kill me, right? Is that was this is about?"
I froze mid-step at the sudden voice and turned my head towards the sound. Edward stepped in front of me, and I took an awkward step back.
"Excuse me? But I'm just walking here," I said, my voice laced with irritation and frustration. My arms were already beginning to hurt, and my leg did not agree with this way of walking, so the last thing I needed right now was to take anymore of Edward's crap.
"Yeah, exactly. And why are you walking here? Didn't my brother fucking ask you if you needed a fucking ride? You fucking declined and said the Chief was picking your sorry ass up and yet here you are, stumbling around like you're fucking drunk or some shit," he spat furiously, and I cocked an eyebrow at his overly enthusiastic use of curse words.
"He was a no show, so I decided to walk home. Is that a problem?" I asked calmly.
"You're walking home? Really? Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "And when did you plan on getting home? Next year?"
I rolled my eyes at his antics and tried to stretch my fingers without letting go of the crutches. It was painful to stand still for too long.
"Yes, I'm walking home, so if you'd excuse me," I said and took a step forward to pass him, but he just took a step to the side so he was once again standing in front of me. I gave him an irritated look but he just looked blankly back at me. "Haven't you heard? It's mean to harass a crippled girl." Something flashed in his eyes, and I swear I saw him wince for a fraction of a second, before he collected himself and put on his blank mask.
"So I've fucking heard," he almost growled. "Now get in the fucking car and we'll drive your sorry ass home."
"What?" I asked incredulously, it felt as if I was missing something.
He pointed towards the parking lot outside the grocery store and I saw that Emmett's black jeep was parked there. Emmett himself was nowhere to be seen.
Edward grabbed my arm when I didn't show any sign of agreeing with him, and he pulled me roughly towards the car. I couldn't keep up with his speed without tripping – especially not with the crutches in my hands, and my leg screamed at me to stop. I cried out in pain when my leg touched the ground roughly, and Edward immediately stopped. He turned to look at me with a frightened expression.
"What the hell are you screaming about?" he asked. He was trying to sound angry and irritated, but there was an undertone of fear there too.
"Haven't you heard? My leg is freaking crushed, and it hurts like hell to even walk, so when you drag me around like this of course it freaking hurts even more, you idiot!" I yelled, and I didn't even bother to try to keep my voice down. The pain along with my frustration over the situation was enough to push me over the edge. I didn't care who heard or saw me. I was angry and in terrible pain, and I'd be damned if I was going to hide it.
"Well, fuck me," he growled. "But maybe you could have mentioned it before you began screaming like a bitch and scaring the shit out of me. What the hell!"
"You didn't really give me any time to react now, did you?" I snapped back.
We glared at each other in silence. Neither of us wanted to be the one to break down and look away. The staring contest didn't end until Edward was roughly pushed aside by a couple of large hands.
"Dude, what the hell?" Edward complained and glared at his brother.
"I could ask you the same fucking thing. What the hell are you doing harassing her? I could fucking hear her all the way inside the store!" Emmett said furiously before he turned to me, his expression softening immediately. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
I shot a quick glance at Edward, who was looking at me too and probably expecting me to rat him out or pull a similar stunt like I had while in the hospital.
"Yes, I'm okay. Yes, he hurt me," I replied honestly, and Emmett turned to look at his brother.
"What did you do?" Emmett asked, narrowing his eyes. Edward rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car casually.
"You wanted to give her a fucking ride, so now we're giving her a fucking ride," he replied calmly.
"What did you do?" Emmett asked again, this time with a little more force behind his words.
"He grabbed me without thinking, and my leg just got caught in the middle… no big deal… the pain is gone," I said with a shrug, even though I was lying. The pain was not gone; it was still radiating through my leg like small, little explosions. Edward cocked his head to the side as he studied me. I guess I hadn't been far off when I thought he had expected me to pull another stunt to get him into trouble. Emmett furrowed his brows and nodded slowly.
"Okay… if you're sure," he said hesitantly and looked towards the store. "Well I need to go back in because I rushed out before I was finished in there. I'll be back in just a moment. You wait here. Okay?" I nodded, and he sighed in relief. "Okay, good." He walked back over to the store, but not before throwing an irritated glance at Edward – who just ignored it.
I sighed and shifted awkwardly on my legs, and Edward snorted quietly.
"God, you must be the worst liar I've ever met," he said and shook his head.
"How would you know? You have never heard me lie," I retorted.
He cocked an eyebrow at me and smirked. "You just did," he replied simply. "You told my brother that you were not in pain, when it's fucking obvious that you are," he added condescendingly.
"And whose fault is that?" I spat, not able to contain myself.
"Touché," he muttered and pushed himself off the car and opened the car door. "Get in."
I looked at the seat and then at the ground and then at the seat again. Was he kidding me? How the hell was I going to get up there? It was a Jeep, for crying out loud, I couldn't climb up there. It was even higher than the cruiser.
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Edward asked, tapping his foot impatiently. I shot him a humorless smile and resisted the urge to smack him with my crutch.
"Maybe I'm better off walking home," I said. "Because it will probably take me longer to climb into that car than it will take me to walk home."
He looked at me like I was crazy before looking at the car and realizing that I was right.
"Fuck me," he muttered, and before I knew it he had scooped me up in his arms and lifted me into the car. I was so shocked by the gesture that I could easily ignore the pain that radiated through my leg because of the sudden movement.
He let me go and took a step back to pick up the crutches that I had dropped when he picked me up, and threw them on the floor of the car.
"Do you want me to buckle you up too or do you think you can handle that?" he asked sarcastically.
"Oh, I think I got it," I replied with an irritated tone. He rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut. He stalked around the car to the passenger side and got in. He fiddled with the radio and turned up the volume to make conversation impossible. As if I wanted to talk anymore with that idiot anyway. I removed my bag – which I still had on my back – and put it on the seat next to me.
Fortunately, Emmett came out from the store a couple of minutes later. He met my gaze through the rearview mirror as he got in, and I smiled weakly at him. I gave him directions to my house, and ten minutes later we were there.
"Thanks for the ride," I said politely and opened the door. I looked down on the ground and frowned. Was I supposed to jump? Emmett seemed to have sensed my dilemma because he jumped out of the car quickly and was by my side in seconds.
He held out his hands and gave me an awkward look.
"Eh… how can I help you?" he asked uncertainly. I bit my lip and shrugged. I was not about to ask him to put his arms around me and help me out the way Edward had helped me in. That would be too awkward. "Let's just do it like this…" he said and grabbed me by my elbows.
He lifted me out effortlessly by only holding on to my elbows, and I tensed automatically when he did. He was stronger than Edward, that's for sure. He put me down gingerly on the ground and handed me my crutches. He reached for my bag and helped me put it on.
"You want me to help you to the porch or do you have it from here?" Emmett asked, scratching his neck absentmindedly. I smiled weakly at him and shook my head.
"I got it from here, thanks for the ride," I replied, gripping my crutches and making my way up to the porch.
"See ya tomorrow, little one," he called after me. I didn't respond to that, nor did I turn around. I heard him get into the car and slam the door shut behind him. By the time I reached the front door, they were already gone.
I made it inside, I shrugged off my bag and put it by the stairs before making my way into the kitchen. My crutches left small muddy imprints on the floor; it almost looked like animal prints. I considered trying to clean it up, but I decided against it.
First of all, I would have to get down on the floor to clean it, and if I got down on the floor, it would be impossible for me to get back up. Secondly, I thought that the least Dad could do for leaving me high and dry like that was to clean the freaking floors.
I wobbled over to the fridge and glanced at the sink in the process.
Maybe he could do some dishes too while he's at it.
I scoffed at myself for even thinking it. Of course he wouldn't do any dishes. He probably didn't even know how to.
Somehow I managed to pour myself a glass of orange juice and take it to the living room without dropping it, spilling it or falling flat on my ass. I knew I should seek comfort in those small victories in my daily life, but not even those could keep that emotional balloon from bursting in my chest.
As soon as I sat down on the couch I was once again overwhelmed with feelings of dread and desolation. It was sometimes easy to forget all the pain and misery in my life when I got distracted enough by good things. I considered Emmett to be one of those things.
At least for now.
He still scared me, though. He was a big mountain of a man. He could scare anyone to death by just looking at them, but he had yet to shoot any deadly glares my way. All day he had been nothing but good to me - helping me with my bag, with my lunch and he even gave me a ride home. The pessimistic and paranoid side of me wanted to believe that he did it as a joke, a joke I would have to pay for later. But there was also a small part of me that wanted to believe he only did it to be nice. Maybe he thought that being nice to me meant less pain for his brother.
For whatever reason he did it, I couldn't help but feel grateful. Even if all those nice things were a part of some big, elaborate joke. I was still going to savor today and feel good about it. Emmett had protected me from humiliation and pain; he had not hurt me today. Therefore, it was a good day in my book, and I was not going to feel bad about it until the day he stabbed me in the back. If that day ever came, that is.
Who was I kidding? Of course it would.
With my past as proof of my luck in life; it was not a matter of if, it was matter of when. I felt stupid for even considering the alternative.
The familiar sound of the cruiser brought me out from my reverie and I tensed instinctively at the sound. So Dad wasn't lying dead in a ditch somewhere after all.
Good for him.
I heard him turn off the engine and slam the door behind him; he walked in a few moments later. He smiled when he saw me sitting in the living room. The smile was simple and clueless, like nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't forgotten all about me.
"Hey there, kiddo, did you have a good first day back?" he asked while he took off his jacket and put away his gun.
"Yeah, it was a blast," I replied with a sweet voice, "it would have been nicer, though, if someone hadn't forgotten to pick my sorry ass up." I was surprised by my choice of words, and by the looks of it, he was too. I usually never curse or use foul language around my parents, so the fact that I just used the word ass to describe myself, was more than a little daunting. The only thing worse than that would have been if I had used something more Edward-like, like… fuck.
His movements faltered for a split second, before he hung up his jacket and walked into the living room. He sat down on his usual chair, which was draped with the red quilt that Mom had made for me when I was a kid. That quilt alone was the reason why I never sat in that chair. Ever. At least not anymore. That quilt that I used to love so much had become tainted by my mother's betrayal and I couldn't even touch it anymore.
"I've spent half my day on the reservation. I tried to call you, but I had no reception up there. I couldn't leave either, and I figured you would get a ride with one of your friends," he said. He sounded almost sincere in his apology, but I couldn't forgive him for it. The fact that he thought I had friends proved how much he knew about me. Nothing that is. The fact that he just assumed I would get a ride was insulting. "But you came home in one piece, so no harm done, right? So who gave you a ride? I bet Alice didn't mind."
I narrowed my eyes at him and shook my head.
"No, it wasn't Alice," I replied. "I got a ride from Emmett and Edward."
He gaped at me at the revelation, and it took a moment for him to collect himself. He leaned forward on the chair and gave me a stern look.
"I don't want you hanging out with those boys, alright? The Cullen boys are nothing but trouble. I caught that Edward kid waltzing around the streets drunk in the middle of the afternoon just last week. And considering the damage he's done to you…" he trailed off, shook his head and frowned. "He's trouble, and I'm just waiting for the day when I can put him behind bars. I'm surprised that Dr. Cullen and his wife managed to produce such a bad kid, since they're both such good people."
"I don't think you are in any position to judge, Dad," I replied and looked away. "I waited for over an hour for you to pick me up, and they were the only ones who offered me a ride. What was I supposed to do? Walk home? With this?" I nodded towards my cast, and I saw him cringe at the sight. I didn't care to mention to him that my plan had been exactly that; to walk home. "Besides… you're not really the best judge of character to begin with anyway, considering who you married."
"That's enough!" he yelled and stood up abruptly. "Go to your room!"
Ah, Mom. Always the deal breaker for my dad. No one would make a better advocate for my mother than my father. I would never understand how one could love someone who was so cruel and heartless – and defend her like he did.
I reached for my crutches and stood up slowly as I steadied myself on them.
"Really, Dad? You're pulling out that card? Wow… that's just brilliant," I said.
He huffed and turned to look out of the window instead. I could tell I had hit a sore spot, but I didn't care. He couldn't keep acting like this and think I wouldn't call him out on it sooner or later.
I grabbed my bag when I reached the stairs and awkwardly put it on my back. I was just about to make my way upstairs when Dad spoke again.
"Thanksgiving is next weekend," he said in a calm and collected tone.
"Yeah? Do you want me to cook a huge holiday dinner for the two of us or something?" I asked sarcastically.
"No, it's not just going to be the two of us," he replied. I was quiet as I waited for him to elaborate, but when he showed no sign of doing just that, I knew I had to pull it out of him.
"Then who else is coming?" I asked, though a part of me didn't want to know.
He was quiet for what felt like an eternity then he slowly took a deep breath and let the answer out. He still had his back to me and maybe that was just as well.
"The usual," he said slowly. I felt all the blood drain from my face and my grip on my crutches tightened.
The usual. The usual. The usual.
The usual for any of our holidays had, up until now, consisted of me and my parents, along with Billy and Jacob Black.
Dad scratched his unshaven jaw and turned away from the window so he could look at me.
"I'm sorry, Bells, but you need to get over this and you won't be able to do that until you stop blaming them. They were only trying to help you… Billy has been devastated that you refuse to see him, but he understands that you need time," he said. "This is a family holiday, and they are our family. We can't shut them out anymore because you refuse to see them. They're family."
I wasn't breathing at all at that point, and I could no longer hear anything that he said. I could only see his lips move as he spoke and how he scratched his neck and cheek absentmindedly. He didn't enjoy this particular topic. He never had and I couldn't blame him, because I didn't either.
After all, he talked about things he knew nothing about. He didn't know the whole story, because he had chosen to believe the lie.
He took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eyes from across the room. I knew in an instant that whatever he was about to say next was going to be a low blow. He knew that too. That was why he looked so awkward and sorry.
Please, don't say it, Dad. Please… just don't…
"I hate to say this, but you need to grow up, Bells. Be an adult about this, and stop blaming other people for mistakes that you have made. We don't blame you for what you did, Bella. The situation is what it is, and we need to move past it at some point. You need to forgive your mother, Billy and Jacob… they were only trying to help you."
Help me? HELP ME? Nobody had been trying to help me. I had been on the brink of death and they had not tried to pull me back; because they were the ones who put me there.
I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it was impossible. It felt as if I was choking again. Though, this time it wasn't on a bite of bread. It was on my emotional balloon. An emotional balloon that was filled with disappointment and sadness over my father's lack of support, his lack of knowledge and his willingness to believe the lie. I turned back to the stairs and made my way upstairs as quickly as I could – which wasn't very quickly at all.
I should have known better. This was the punishment I got for thinking I was having a good day, with people who were nice to me and wanted to help me out. People that acted like they really did want to become my friends.
I made it to my room, and I closed the door behind me – with less force than I would have liked – before I wobbled over to my bed.
Mom… and Billy… and Jacob.
I would not survive a dinner with them, considering I almost literally lost my life last time I was even in the same room as them.
And Dad thought this was a good idea?
I took off my jeans, and grabbed my sweats which were lying on the bed, and sat down on my bed in order to pull them on. But before I got anywhere, my eyes caught sight of the pictures that Alice and Emmett had drawn on my cast.
I had yet to see what Emmett had drawn, since Alice had pulled down my pant leg so quickly at lunch. Now I felt an odd mixture of dread and excitement as I bent over to examine the work of Emmett.
I felt a different kind of lump in my throat when I looked at it… a good lump.
Emmett did not share Edward's artistic talent, but the childlike quality to the drawing made me love it even more. He had drawn a cute, brown bear, dressed in a blue t-shirt with a print that said "Brother Bear."
I felt tugging at the corners of my mouth, and I tried to fight the sad smile that threatened to escape.
"Brother Bear," I whispered and touched the bear with my fingers.
If only he was real.