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: Voluptuous Vamp & Sandicarr]
Chapter 33 – "Safe, part 1"
Edward Cullen POV
I looked at her, not really knowing what the hell I was supposed to say.
She just wanted to be loved. Such an easy fucking concept, right?
Apparently not easy enough.
What kind of fucked up wish was that, anyway? I mean, wasn't being loved one of those fundamental things that everyone got, no matter how horrible or how good they were? I guess I couldn't blame her though; her family and friends had clearly showed her that they didn't fucking love her or that she was worth loving in the first place. Why else would they treat her like they did? It was like they thought that the only reason why anyone would ever want her or love her was if a stupid legend told them so.
I didn't even need to ask her if she meant loved as in loved by family and friends, or loved as in… romantically. Her tone and her fucking situation answered that damn question for me. She wasn't asking for romantic love. She just wanted to be loved. Period.
I didn't know what to say so the words lingered between us like a thick blanket. She looked away, probably growing uncomfortable with the silence too. I sighed and left the bed, even though every fiber of my being told me to just fucking stay.
"I'm sorry, that was stupid," she mumbled. I turned my head to glare angrily at her, but she was just looking down at her hands in her lap.
"What the fuck are you apologizing for? Are you apologizing for wanting something that everyone else takes for granted? Are you apologizing for wanting something that you should already have? Fuck you, Sparrow, don't you dare fucking apologize for shit that's not your fault," I snapped.
She looked up, shrugging sheepishly. "Can you blame me?" she asked softly.
"No, I can't. And that's the most fucked up thing of all," I sighed, running my hands through my hair. "How are you feeling, though? You sure you're not hungry? Are you in any pain?"
She bit her lip and shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak when the sound of my cell phone suddenly rang out. I pulled the phone from my pocket and looked at the screen. I frowned.
Sparrow?
"Who is it?" she asked.
"It's you."
"What?"
I held up the phone so she could see the screen.
"Your phone is calling me… did you pocket dial or something?" I asked confused. The little color she had was drained from her face and realization hit me like a fucking kick in the nuts. I looked down at the phone in my hand and swallowed. "You didn't fucking pocket dial me, did you?"
She slowly shook her head and I pressed the red button, declining the call.
"I… I… I must have forgotten it… she must have found it… what… what are we gonna do? She's gonna find me!" she said frantically, her voice cracking and shaking through her erratic breathing. She put a hand to her chest to try to calm her breathing, and I saw how her eyes immediately filled with tears. The sight was fucking horrifying. I had never seen someone as terrified as she was at that moment. There was nothing fake or overdramatic about her appearance; this was fear in its purest form. She feared for her life.
She was fucking petrified of her own mother.
I quickly made it back over to the bed and sat down beside her. I grabbed her hand in mine and gave it a tight squeeze.
"Don't fucking worry, Sparrow. I told you, you're safe here."
"Are you kidding me?" she said, looking at me with an insultingly doubtful look. "Sh-she has your phone number, Edward. She can have Dad trace it… or look it up or just… anything. She's gonna find me!"
I tried to give her a comforting smile, nudging her gently. "I told you, don't fucking worry about it," I replied calmly.
"Seriously? Are you stupid?" she asked, anger now lacing her voice. Her emotions were all over the place.
"No," I replied coolly. "They can't trace my number because my name isn't registered to it."
"What? Is it registered to your dad or something?"
I shook my head. "This little baby right here," I said, showing her the phone, "is a product I gained from an… acquaintance in Port Angeles. We needed a way to stay in touch, a way that my parents couldn't trace, and nobody else either. So, for all I know this number is registered to some random dude in Florida."
"So, what you're saying is that your number is practically untraceable?" she asked, still sounding doubtful but also a little relieved.
"Yeah, pretty much. The only way for your dad to find you via my phone is if he could track the signal, and that's not happening. So, you see, you have nothing to worry about."
Her entire body slumped in relief and she leaned her head against my shoulder. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I put an arm around her, pulling her a little closer to me. I turned my body to her, resting my chin on top of her head. She snuggled closer, gripping my shirt in her hands and practically burying her face in my chest.
We sat there in silence for a while. Soon my phone rang again and I didn't even bother to look at the screen long enough to see who it was. I just declined the call before shutting the phone off all together. I threw it away and it bounced on the couch a couple of times before falling down on the floor.
A random thought came to mind and I voiced it before I even had time to consider it. "Why the fuck did you eat the bread?" I asked.
"How was I supposed to know she was going to drug me?" she replied, turning her head a little so her cheek was resting against my chest. "I used to love that bread. I ate it all the time when I was younger. How was I supposed to know it had been… poisoned?"
"She's fucking crazy," I spat, feeling angry at Sparrow for being so damn naïve. "You should have just assumed there was some shit in it."
"I can't really change the past now, can I?" she mumbled, her voice cracking a tiny bit. "If I could, there are so many things I would do differently…"
"I think we should tell my dad tomorrow," I said seriously. She pulled back to look at me. I mentally prepared myself for the protest that I knew for damn sure was coming. I tried not to take it personally when she pulled away from me and moved closer to the head of the bed. Even though the space between us was no more than a few inches, it still felt like the fucking Atlantic.
She was too far away.
"And what exactly are we going to tell him?" she asked quietly.
"Everything. There's no fucking way that he wouldn't believe us… Besides, he already knows that there's something iffy about your scars. And if he still doesn't believe us, I'll give him witnesses," I replied.
"Witnesses? I'm sorry, Edward, but I don't think Billy or Jacob or that Phil guy would ever testify against her," she mumbled, the disappointment was clear in her voice. She had almost looked hopeful for a moment, probably wishing I had been on to something.
"We have Leah. She knows about the shit that is going down in La Push. She would testify. She would stand up for you."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because she's fucking bitter. Those legends took her boyfriend away from her, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind getting back at him for it."
She bit her lip, looking up at the ceiling as I scooted myself closer. I couldn't fucking take the space anymore. I needed her close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her body. She turned her head.
"Are you in any pain?" I asked again, quietly.
"Nothing I can't handle," she replied.
I frowned. "That's not what I asked."
She sighed deeply, turning her head to look at me with tired eyes. "Yes, Edward. I'm in pain."
I couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."
I looked down at my hand and saw that my fingers had somehow braided themselves together with hers. Her hand felt tiny and fragile in mine but also as if it belonged there. I raised our hands and held them to my chest. She looked at them, before looking up and meeting my gaze again. The raw pain in her eyes made my smile fade and disappear.
"It hurts," she whispered, once again her eyes welled up with tears. "It hurts so much." She took a shuddering breath and the desperate sound made something ache in me. Her pain was suddenly my damn pain too.
"I'm so fucking sorry I didn't come sooner," I apologized quietly. "I fucking knew something was up when you didn't answer my text, but I was too damn stupid. I thought you were alright. I thought you were in school…"
"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong," she sighed. I squeezed her hand tighter in mine and rubbed the top of her hand with my thumb, it seemed to relax her. "How did Jasper get dragged into this?"
I kept rubbing soothing circles into her hand, but this time it felt like it was more for my benefit than for hers. I could still feel the terror that had run through my body as I ran down the driveway after receiving her text.
It wasn't until I had reached the main road that I realized that I had no fucking idea where she was – and I had no means of getting there anyway. What if she had been in La Push? There was no chance in hell that I could have run that far. That was when I had picked up my phone again and sent her another text, asking her where the hell she was.
Home. Alone. Fucking perfect.
But still too fucking faraway.
"I had talked to Jasper earlier that day. He wasn't fucking joking about the pacing," I ended with a sigh. "Jasper may be a moody bastard, but he's fucking reliable. He was the only one I could call. Hope that's okay?"
The corner of her mouth lifted into a sad smile as she nodded. "Of course it's okay, I'm just glad you found me in time."
"Speaking of which, where the hell was the crazy bitch? Leah said that the shit in La Push started at eleven. Shouldn't your mom have been at the house with you before then?" I asked, suddenly feeling slightly paranoid. What if she had been there? Sparrow's eyes mirrored my thoughts exactly and I tried to calm her down by kissing her knuckles again. "Don't fucking worry, I promise to fucking God that she won't get to you. You're safe here. I'll keep you safe."
She bowed her head and sighed, before looking up at me through her lashes with a soft frown. She looked fucking uncomfortable all of a sudden. Uncomfortable and… something else. I had never seen that look on her face before, was she even aware that she was making it?
"What's wrong now?" I asked, feeling a little uncomfortable myself all of a sudden.
"I need to… you know… erhm… use the bathroom?" It came out as a question, and her words didn't even register with me at first. I was too preoccupied with watching her eyes as she continued looking at me through her lashes.
"Bathroom?" I echoed dumbly. "Oh… OH! Bathroom, okay. Sure. Let me help you." I stood up quickly and helped her walk. I didn't ask if she needed my help in there because I had a feeling that even if she did she wouldn't admit to it, and I wasn't too sure I would have be able to do it anyway. There were some lines you simply didn't cross, and helping a girl out while she relieved herself was one of those lines.
I found myself staring at the closed bathroom door, just like I had when she changed clothes earlier. I had stared at the door so intently it had been as if I was trying to burn a hole right through it, just so I could see her undress. I still wanted to fucking kick myself for thinking that. I felt like such a teenage boy. Maybe it was because I was a fucking teenage boy. Even worse was when she stepped out, all dressed in my clothes, and my body decided to fucking betray me.
Apparently, my body seemed to have thought that seeing Sparrow in my clothes was a good thing. I had felt some weird - but somewhat pleasant - tugging feeling in my stomach as I looked down at her, and the mere memory of it made the feeling return.
Fuck me for saying it, but she looked pretty damn good in my clothes. The sweatpants were too long for her, and the long-sleeved t-shirt too big, but she looked… good.
Even though I felt some odd sense of satisfaction from seeing her in my clothes, I still couldn't get past how destroyed she had looked after her breakdown. I actually thought she was going to break apart in my damn arms because she had been crying so hard, her body shaking so violently.
At least she got that shit out and she was now ready to deal with whatever load of crap destiny decided to hit us with next. When she told me that all she wanted was to be loved I seriously wanted to break something.
I wondered what was going through her head. Was she still scared? Did she trust that I would keep her safe no matter what? Did she still think that suicide was the answer? Was she going to give up?
I had a feeling that only one of the answers was no.
Soon, I heard her flush the toilet and wash her hands. She stepped out a few moments later and I offered her my arm in a gentlemanly way. She rolled her eyes at me, but I could see an amused sparkle in them.
"Is it okay if I go to sleep? I'm tired," she asked quietly as she sat down on the bed.
"No, it's okay."
She made herself comfortable, and I pulled the covers over her. She gave me another amused, but sad, smile.
"What?" I asked, chuckling a little at her expression.
"Are you the same guy that called me Goose for almost ten months, and who stole my homework even though he clearly had the knowledge needed to do it himself?" she asked softly. "Are you the same guy that promised me that he would make my existence miserable… that he would kill me?"
My smile froze on my face, before it slowly dropped.
"I don't fucking know who the hell I am anymore," I replied honestly. "So much for being constant, huh?"
"It's okay, some changes are alright, I suppose," she said shrugging a little.
"Yeah, some changes…" I muttered, as I walked over to my new sleeping area.
I tried to make myself comfortable on the couch, but I guess there was a fucking reason why I never slept there. It felt like I was always on the verge of slipping off because of the damn leather. But who was I to complain? At least I could move when I slept; Sparrow couldn't because of her damn leg. Besides, she got the bed, I got the couch. That was the deal.
We said our goodnights and then we laid there in silence. It was pretty obvious that neither of us were going to sleep anytime soon, even though we were both tired as shit. Her crazy mom had gotten too close today, and there was no chance in hell that I was going to rest peacefully until I knew for sure that Sparrow was completely safe. And she wouldn't be safe until crazy-bitch and her followers were behind bars. Or six feet under. Or chopped into a million pieces and fed to the wolves.
Maybe they should just make the entire reservation into one giant prison or institution for the criminally insane, considering they all seemed to be crazy there. There must be some pretty weird shit in their water.
My body was restless, and I never really fell asleep because my body kept waking itself up every time I was on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness. Every time it happened, I heard the shallow, and somewhat labored, breaths from the bed. Sparrow was sleeping but it was clear that she was still in pain. Every now and again a whimper would escape her.
I sat up on the couch, leaning forward and resting my arms on my legs. I looked over at the bed, getting a clear view of Sparrow's sleeping form. She was in fucking pain, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not physically. Not emotionally. Nothing.
I don't know how long I sat like that. All I know is that I should have felt like a goddamn freak, but I didn't. Edward fucking Cullen was watching a goddamn girl sleep and it didn't feel even remotely weird. And that still wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that I actually fucking enjoyed it. Somehow it made me feel…safe.
Or whatever.
Suddenly she scrunched up her face, and an agonized sound escaped her. I was kneeling down beside her before I was even aware that I had moved off the couch. I touched her face and I stroked her arms as the whimpering continued. Her eyes shot open and there was no other emotion but raw pain in them.
"What's wrong?" I asked in alarm.
"Pain… cramp… it hurts…," she whimpered.
"Should I get my dad?" I asked nervously. "He usually has some damn good prescription pills locked up in his office. He could give you something for the pain." She shook her head.
"I'm not ready yet," she said with a pathetically weak voice. She whimpered again. "Stupid... cramp..." She squeezed her eyes shut and moved her leg a little; the simple motion made her entire body spasm. She threw the cover off herself and grabbed her thigh with both her hands. She tried to massage it to help with the pain, but since she was lying down it looked pretty uncomfortable for her.
"Let me do it," I said, replacing her hands with mine on her thigh. I started making soft circular movements and her breathing evened out almost instantly.
"You have magic hands," she sighed, her voice no longer full of pain. She opened her eyes slowly and I looked back at her with a sly smirk.
"Yeah, you're not the first girl to tell me that," I teased, winking at her while still massaging her leg.
"You're such an ass," she sighed, closing her eyes with a content smile.
"Yeah, I know," I agreed.
She made a humming noise and the content smile on her lips grew as I kept massaging her leg. I didn't even realize my damn hands had moved higher up on her thigh. She made another noise of contentment, and I groaned inwardly at myself. My fucking body was about to fucking betray me. I felt my lower region react to the damn sounds she was making and there was no fucking way for me to stop it.
"Just try to relax… go back to sleep," I said, hoping as hell that she wouldn't open her damn eyes again, or else she might notice the uncomfortable situation currently going on in my pants.
Why the hell did my body react like this? It was Sparrow for crying out loud, so what the hell was I suddenly turned on for? She was in pain, so since when was I some sadistic douche that got turned on by that? What the fuck was wrong with me?
And why the hell was I still touching her?
"Thank you," she whispered, it wasn't much more than a breath. She was close to falling asleep again. I sighed as I kept massaging her thigh. My hands refused to leave it, or travel down back to a safer area by her knee. My hands knew where they were, what they were doing, and they weren't leaving.
I'm so going to hell for this.
Like you're not enjoying it…
Fuck you.
"Anything for you, Sparrow," I whispered back so quietly that I doubted she heard me.
She sighed, her breathing evened out even more and it was clear that she was sleeping again. I kept massaging her leg with one hand as I tried to adjust my situation with the other.
I was still fucking hard. And not just "wow, she's cute" kind of hard, but a "goddamn, I'm going to fuck that pussy from here to next week" kind of hard. What. The. Flying. Fuck.
It was Sparrow…. Swan… Turkey… the fucking Goose. What the hell was I getting hard for her for? Or was it just that my body knew it was close to a goddamn pussy, and the natural instinct was to give me a damn boner? It didn't matter whose pussy it was, it was pussy nonethefuckingless.
Yeah, because you're not attracted to her at all…
I looked up at her face. Her hair was flowing out on the pillow, framing her face, like waves of fucking chocolate. Her face was fucking perfect. Her skin was like porcelain, and she looked like a doll with her eyes closed.
Had she always looked like this?
Yeah, not attracted at all…
Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
I sighed as I noticed that my hands had once again traveled a little too high on her thigh. I forced them into the safe territory right above her knee. I was fucking disgusted with myself; I was moments away from practically finger-fucking her in her sleep.
Yeah, that would be bad, wouldn't it? Since you would rather just fuck her. With your mighty dick.
Fuck you.
I looked up at her face again, noticing just how fragile she looked.
The skin around her left eye and on her neck had begun to darken. Her mother hadn't been very careful with her today, that was for sure. Maybe it was a good thing that Sparrow had been unconscious for the most part; I didn't even want to know what the hell she had been subjected too.
The mere thought of her mother made my hard-on deflate like a fucking balloon.
Normal people thought of baseball, their dead grandmothers or dead puppies or some shit – I thought of Sparrow's mother, and it did the trick better than thinking about dead grandmothers playing baseball with dead puppies as balls.
Even though I was fucking relieved that the boner was gone, I still felt like a dick.
I sighed and removed my hands from her leg altogether, watching her face for any sign of distress before standing up. I didn't get back to the couch; instead I walked around the bed, climbing in on the other side. I laid down beside her, grabbing her hand and holding it to my chest.
I wasn't fucking sleeping on that damn couch tonight.
I was too fucking confused for that shit.
Because you rather sleep as close to Sparrow as you can… so you can touch her… feel her…
I growled inwardly at my stupid brain, hating it for messing with me when I already was so fucking messed up.
I turned my head and looked at her, noticing that she had turned her head to me in her sleep. I smiled crookedly and stroked her cheek with my finger.
Fucking perfect.
x x x x x
I sighed exasperatedly as I gripped my damn hair. I threw an annoyed glance at Sparrow, but she was just looking back at me blankly, which frustrated me even more.
"You're in pain, aren't you? Fuck, Sparrow, I think it's time for you to let someone in. And not just me, because we both know that at the end of the fucking day, I can't fucking do anything for you. The only damn thing I can do is get my dad involved," I sighed, feeling more than a little frustrated that we were yet again having this fucking conversation.
It was a little past six am and she had woken us both up half an hour earlier when another wave of pain washed over her. I had spent the better part of that time trying to convince her to let me get my dad involved, but she wasn't budging. My frustration was rolling off me in waves at this point, just like hers was.
"Let's just fucking tell him. Or anyone. Just… someone. You can't hide anymore, it's just getting worse. They're cutting people, Sparrow. They're fucking killing people!"
"Yes, Edward, I know that," she replied calmly. "But do you even realize what it means if we tell people? I…" she trailed off, just shaking her head as she turned to stare at the wall. Again. She had stared at that stupid wall more than she had looked at me during our discussion… or fight… or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. It was like she was fucking in love with it or some shit.
"You what?" I asked with a frustrated sigh.
"What will happen to me?" she whispered, her calm façade completely gone.
I sighed, feeling the frustrated anger leave me, and being replace by frustrated… frustration.
"You will be safe."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Someone has to be the damn optimist," I sighed, smiling crookedly.
She returned my smile, but I could also see that she wasn't agreeing with me. Not yet anyway.
"Please, don't get your dad involved… not yet…" She looked at me all pleadingly and how the fuck was I supposed to deny her? This was what she wanted, and this was what I could give her.
"Fine," I sighed. "But one of these days we'll have to get someone involved, because you can't fucking return to that house."
"Thank you."
"Don't fucking thank me, I haven't done anything yet," I muttered, as I plopped back down on the bed beside her. I rested my elbows on my knees and hid my face in my hands. I didn't have the energy for this shit, especially not this early in the fucking morning.
"I'm sorry that I'm being difficult," she said and nudged me playfully. I turned my head to her, seeing her smile tentatively at me. I succumbed to the freaky power she had over me, feeling the frustration melt away as I smiled back at her. How could I not? That damn smile was fucking contagious.
I took her hand, and brought it to my lips. Kissing her knuckles like so many damn times before. She frowned and pulled the hand back quickly. I quirked an eyebrow in confusion while trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in my gut.
"I can't be fixed with kisses, Edward," she whispered with a broken voice while staring at the wall. "I'm too broken... kisses won't heal me."
"I know," I replied, but it was nothing more than a breath. Why was I feeling so weird? Why did it feel like she was… I didn't even know what the hell that was. I frowned and looked away.
As soon as she had let go of my hand it almost felt like I fucking lost something. I felt some weird urge to just grab her and… I didn't fucking know. Grab her and do something. I didn't know what the urge was for, but it was there nonethefuckingless.
Sparrow was being so damn stubborn, and it frustrated me to no end. She wanted help; we both knew she did. But she was so damn afraid that people wouldn't believe her crazy story. Fear can be a dangerous thing, sometimes even more dangerous than what you're afraid of. Her fear was what was keeping her from being safe. She had hid herself behind her secret for so long that she no longer knew what the sensible thing to do was. She was so far gone at this point that she wouldn't even recognize her salvation if it jumped up and bit her in the ass.
Maybe you should bite her ass…
I was her fucking salvation. But she couldn't fucking see it. She refused to see it.
A normal person would have told her to just pick herself up and ignore whatever shit had her down. But how the hell do you tell someone who's suicidal to just pick themselves up? Answer is: you don't. So that's why I didn't. I understood why she was feeling this way, and I allowed her to feel like shit, I fucking allowed her to want to die. All I expected from her was that she wasn't going to do anything reckless about it. That she would keep breathing, keep her heart beating, even though everything fucking sucked and hurt.
I looked at my alarm clock and sighed.
"I should get ready for school," I groaned. She immediately shot her eyes to me.
"What?"
"School… you know… where you go to… eh… learn?" I replied, confused.
"But… what about me?"
"Sparrow, c'mon, if I don't go to school then people will know something's up. And they will definitely know something is up when you're reported missing. I will keep you safe, and this is how I'll do it," I said. "Okay?"
"You promise?" she asked weakly.
I smiled at her and put my hands on either side of her face.
"I fucking swear to God and all that is fucking holy that you will never have to go back there again. Your mother will never lay another hand on you. Neither will those stupid mutts in La Push. Okay?" I said, trying to put as much conviction behind my words as possible. "You are fucking safe now, Sparrow. I promise you."She smiled sadly at me and I resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her forehead.
I went downstairs, finding only Mom and Emmett in the kitchen. I didn't ask where Dad was because, frankly, I didn't fucking care. It was good that he wasn't there since it meant that there was one less person I had to act around. Mom looked up from her notebook and gave me a timid smile.
"Don't forget about what we agreed on last night," she said. "You're wanted at the hospital at noon. I will call your school and tell them you're not coming in today."
I froze with my hand on the handle of the fridge. Fuck. I had totally forgotten about all that crap. I slowly turned to look at my mother. She gave me a look that clearly said that I shouldn't bother arguing. Double fuck. I knew the deal, arguing now or fighting it would only lead to them forcing me to move to Chicago. I couldn't have that.
"Fine," I huffed.
"Your car keys are in the bowl by the door," she continued, "if you want to take your Volvo later."
I huffed again, not giving her a verbal response. I grabbed a container of yogurt and an apple from the fridge before leaving the kitchen and going back upstairs. I picked up my key from my pocket and unlocked the door before walking in. Sparrow was still sitting on the bed and she looked a little startled when I walked in. I guess I should have knocked or something.
"Sorry," I mumbled, and she frowned.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"I forgot that I had to stop by the damn hospital today, so I'm not going to school. I have to see some random dude that works with my dad. It's either that or go to Chicago, and I'd rather not move there," I sighed, handing her the yogurt and the apple. "Figured you might be hungry."
"Thanks," she said, turning the apple in her hands. "So… when will you be leaving?"
"I'm supposed to be there at noon, so I'll leave around eleven thirty," I replied. I sat down on the bed and grabbed the remote control before leaning back against the headboard. "Wanna watch some TV?"
She shrugged, before moving so she was sitting next to me, with her legs stretched out before her. It wasn't until then I really noticed how awful her cast looked; it was dirty, discolored and it looked like it had crumbled a little in some places.
That can't be good…
"Don't worry about it," she said as if she could read my mind. "It's fine."
"It doesn't look fine," I muttered. "Maybe you should come with me to the hospital later…"
"Are we really discussing that again?" she asked.
"Apparently not."
She sighed and I turned on the TV. I zapped through the channels until I settled on some boring sitcom. Neither of us said anything, I didn't think we even registered what the hell was on. We were both busy trying to sort out whatever crap was going on in our heads.
I tried to come up with a way to convince her to let me tell someone at the same time as I was trying to ignore the feeling of having her so close. Every time she readjusted the way she sat, her arm would brush against mine and it was like there was an electric current between us or some shit. I wanted her fucking closer. I didn't want the occasional brushing; I wanted the constant touch.
I glanced at her, seeing her frown as she kept her eyes forward. I saw how she clenched and unclenched her jaw and I knew exactly what that meant.
"You're in pain," I noted.
"I'm always in freaking pain," she muttered, sounding annoyed. "I'm used to it."
"I don't have any meds here, and I can't get away with raiding Dad's office but I do have…" I trailed off with a groan. I didn't want to fucking end that sentence.
She turned her head to me. "You have what?"
"Weed."
"You're suggesting I get high?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just saying that weed relaxes you, and the less fucking tension you have in your damn body the less pain you'll be in… it's fucking science, Sparrow."
"But… pot? Seriously?"
"What's the difference between being high on pot and high on pain killers? Do you remember how you acted that one time at the hospital? You were high as a fucking kite, and you probably didn't fucking realize it."
Something flickered past her face, and for some reason she blushed a little. "Yeah, I remember that. I thought I was dreaming."
"So you see pot is no fucking difference. You have three choices here, Sparrow, you either smoke some damn weed, let me take you to the hospital or just sit there and be in unnecessary pain. Your choice." I quirked an eyebrow at her as she met my gaze, silently daring her to pick option number three.
"Fine," she grumbled. "Give me the damn weed."
"That's my girl," I said with a smirk, before climbing off the bed to get my shit.
x x x x x
I sat on my bed, with a joint between my fingers, smiling at how quickly it had affected her. I took one last long drag from it, as to not waste any good weed, before putting the small butt of the joint in her empty yoghurt container.
"See? Are you feeling any better now?" I asked, feeling pretty damn fine myself.
"Feels like I don't have any bones in my body at all," she replied with a fascinated tone. I smirked at her as I climbed off the bed and stepped over to my desk. I pulled out a drawer and ruffled around a little before finding a few colored pencils. I went back to the bed and I was acutely aware how she followed my every movement with her eyes.
I sat down and picked out a black pen, uncapping it with my teeth. She quirked a lazy eyebrow at me as I started drawing on her cast.
"We need a fucking owl… or maybe a penguin… or a fucking flamingo. We need a bird," I explained to her, as the pen started moving fluently over the ruined parts of the cast. I didn't even need to think, it was as if my hand was doing all the work for me.
I heard Sparrow giggle and I looked up at her. I couldn't help but smirk at the sight.
She's fucking perfect.
"I think I've finally figured something out," she said, her voice lazy as if she couldn't really lift her tongue.
"Yeah, and what's that?" I asked amused, without tearing my eyes off her. The way her lips moved when she talked was utterly fascinating.
"You asked me once if pain turned me on," she began, and I frowned as I wondered where the hell she was going with bringing that shit up again. "And I have now figured out what turns you on." My jaw dropped in surprise and she giggled again. "Birds." She looked at me with an amused sparkle in her eyes, and even though I was fucking happy that she could actually smile despite all her shit, I still got annoyed by what she was saying. Annoyed and… embarrassed?
I quickly glanced down at my crotch, wondering if she had noticed something I hadn't. I relaxed when I found that there was no awkward boner this time.
"I don't get turned on by birds. Fuck you, Sparrow," I snarled, feeling slightly offended and yes, a little fucking humiliated.
"Oh, you wish you could, don't you?" My jaw basically hit the floor as she giggled again.
Did she just say that?
"Fuck, Sparrow, you're doped out of your mind," I said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable all of a sudden. Had she noticed that me touching her had caused a serious hard-on last night? Was this her way of telling me that she noticed? "Do you even realize what the fuck you're saying?"
"Nah, probably not," she agreed, her eyes rolling in an adorable way. She was completely done for. A small part of my brain told me to take advantage of that and maybe ask her a few things…
"So, since you brought the subject up… have you ever been… okay, I know you're a fucking virgin and all that, since your crazy mom wants you to be fucking pure, but that doesn't mean you haven't experienced some other crap… so… have you ever… done stuff?" I asked, my rambling confusing even myself. What the hell was I asking her that for? And why the hell did I even care?
"Define… stuff…" she mumbled lazily.
What. The. Fuck.
Okay, so she wanted me to define it? That could only mean one thing, and that was that she had indeed done shit. With who? And what?
"Just… whatever," I replied with a shrug.
"Last New Year's Eve… Jake managed to snag a bottle of champagne from our parents… I didn't drink any of it, but he did… he downed the whole bottle and he got a little handsy…" she said, and for some reason she smiled at the memory. But I wasn't fucking smiling. Not even close.
"What did he do?" I said, but it came out as a snarl.
"He...he…" The smile on her face faded and was replaced with a frown as she looked back at me. "He was my first kiss… my first… whatever…"
He was my first kiss. Never had I heard five simpler words to make me angry. I felt the anger surge through me like a fucking wildfire. Why was the thought of Jacob fucking Black being her first kiss so damn offensive to me? It was like he had… contaminated her or some shit. She wasn't fucking pure anymore. As soon as Jacob Black had pressed his lips to hers, and put his tongue in her mouth, she was fucking impure to me.
And it infuriated me to no end. It was almost as if I wanted to do some weird cleansing ritual on her now, to get rid of all the leftovers from him. Which of course would make me no better than her damn mother.
"Fuck him," I muttered mostly to myself as I looked back down at the cast to continue my drawing.
"Never. Jacob always felt more for me than I did for him… but I was always certain that I would never sleep with him… a New Year's kiss and some groping doesn't change that…"
"Why not?" I asked. I really wanted to know what the hell had been so wrong with Jacob since she had let him stick his damn tongue down her throat and grope her, but she refused to sleep with him. What if whatever she disliked about him was what she disliked about me?
Yeah, so now you want to grope her?
"Because he's not my type," she replied with a shrug.
Oh, so she has a type…
"So what is your type?" I asked, because apparently I was a masochist. She smiled lazily and shook her head. "Why won't you tell me?"
"Because I'm… I'm afraid."
"You're afraid? You're afraid of me? Why would you be afraid of me?" I asked, bewildered.
"Because I trust you."
"And that scares you? I thought trust was a good thing."
"Of course it scares me... I trust you. Everything you have ever said to be has turned out to be true, and every promise you've ever made you've stuck with. You even said you would kill me, and that very same night you ran me over with your car. Even if it was an accident, the point is still there..."
"I would never hurt you. Not now. Not ever."
"And that's what scares me the most. Only the people you trust can hurt you," she replied with a sad voice. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I didn't fucking know how to respond to that. I sighed.
"For what it's worth, Sparrow, I like having people that I can trust and those people are my type." I don't know what the hell I meant by that, but apparently she found it amusing since she started giggling. I smiled at the sound. At least I cheered her up.
"Does that mean Jasper is your type?" she teased.
My smile dropped immediately. "Fuck you, Sparrow. Here we are, sharing a god damn moment, and you ruin it by making stupid jokes like that."
"What? I'm not judging, if that's what worries you," she said, still with that damn giggle in her voice. "You like Tanya and you like Lauren… both blondes… as is Jasper… so maybe blondes are your type?"
The only thing Tanya or Lauren had that was my type was a mouth that knew how to work a dick. Nothing else about Tanya was even remotely interesting, and right now, I would rather cut off my dick than have her come anywhere near it.
I snorted, shaking my head as I looked back down at the cast. "I prefer brunettes," I muttered.
She continued her light teasing about me being gay or whatever. After a while I couldn't help but tease her in return, suggesting that maybe she was gay too, since she had never had a boyfriend and refused to sleep with Jacob. She laughed, said that I seemed ridiculously interested in Jacob all of a sudden, and that maybe I was gay for him too.
And that was when I decided I needed to change the fucking subject. It was as if we both had forgotten about what he had been involved with. Teasing each other about fucking him was disgusting. Nobody should be forced to fuck that son of a bitch, not even Tanya deserved that fate.
I didn't want to leave, but when my alarm clock told me it was almost eleven I knew I had to get ready. I reluctantly left the bed. My high had faded; I was just left with a lingering feeling of euphoria. But I didn't know if that was the weed's doing, or Sparrow's. She had some kind of effect on me that was for damn sure. But I had yet to figure out what the hell it was she stirred in me.
"I'll be right back," I said. "And smoke up if you want. I don't care. I have more where that came from."
"Why, Edward Cullen, you are a bad influence on me," she teased, it was clear that she was still a little high. I smirked as I shook my head.
"Trust me, Sparrow, it's the other way around. See you later."
I left my room and made sure to lock the door securely behind me before walking downstairs. Mom had left me a note by the phone, telling me that she had gone to Port Angeles. I stared at the bowl of keys that was next to the phone. My keys to the Volvo laid there just waiting for me to pick them up.
But I didn't. Instead I just walked right out, taking my bike instead.
I was never going to drive that motherfucking car again.
I walked through the hospital doors fifteen minutes later. I was early, but I didn't care. Hopefully I could get this shit over and done with and be home with Sparrow in an hour.
I went straight for Dad's office. I knocked on the door and he looked surprised to see me.
"Sit down," he said, nodding towards the chair across from his desk. "Dr. Randall will be here soon."
I closed the door behind me and sat down on the chair. I glanced at the paperwork he had in front of him and spotted the file with Sparrow's name on it, and when I focused on the paper in front of him I could vaguely make out her name on top of it.
"I didn't know you were still her doctor," I commented, trying to keep my voice light.
"I'm not," he replied with a sigh, "but I'm trying to find something that might help…" He shook his head. "I can't discuss this with you."
"Of course you can't," I sighed in a bored tone.
He looked up from the paper, staring at me from over his reading glasses that were perched on his nose. "Are you aware that she was reported missing this morning?"
I tried to keep my face clean of any emotion, but I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of panic that came over me. Hearing him say the words out loud made it real somehow. This wasn't a fun game of hide and seek, this was fucking real. Hiding Sparrow in my room because her mother was crazy was not a game. I had been so caught up in trying to protect Sparrow and do whatever would make her feel better that I hadn't even considered the consequences.
The panic and the anxiety over the situation that I had tried to stifle for all this time, was starting to show its ugly face. All because Dad told me she had been reported missing. All because he fucking made it real.
Why wasn't it real until someone else told me it was?
Maybe because it was here it all started… it was in this office you realized something was off.
I have to tell him.
You promised her you wouldn't.
But this isn't a fucking game.
She'll hate you.
Yeah? So fucking what? She can hate me all she wants when her mom's ass is put in jail.
Suit yourself.
Dad quirked an eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side as he removed his glasses.
"Edward, I just want to make something clear, I'm not accusing you of anything… I just want to ask you if you know something about this?" he asked with a concerned tone.
I swallowed thickly. I wanted to fucking remove my sweater. Why was it so damn hot in here? I fidgeted in my chair and my eyes kept darting all over the place, settling on anything that wasn't my father. Why was I panicking? Why couldn't I fucking pretend anymore? I had done it for weeks, damnit!
"Where did you run off to last night?" he asked, his tone now cautious, as if he was afraid of the answer. My leg started bouncing restlessly on the floor. I was about to fucking break. He had just asked one simple question, and it was going to break me. When the hell did I become so easily manipulated? When did I lose my cool?
When you decided it was a good idea to get in over your head.
"Do you really want to know the reason to why I'm sneaking out in the middle of the night? Do you want to know why the hell I've been acting the way I have? Do you want to know why I can't even stand to sit still right now and why I just want to get this shit over with so I can run home? Do you? The reason is currently locked up in my damn bedroom."
Dad's eyes widened at my words and I almost wanted to fucking smack him.
"And what exactly is this 'reason'?" Dad asked, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "And where did you get it?"
I rolled my eyes and sighed exasperatedly. Of course his mind went directly to drugs. Maybe I should have been flattered by that; drugs were nothing compared to keeping someone -who had been reported missing - hidden.
"It's not a fucking it. Girls aren't objects, isn't that what you've always told me?" I snapped. His jaw dropped, and I would have smirked in amusement if this had been under any other circumstances.
"A girl? A girl as in… who is this girl?" Dad asked, now looking genuinely afraid of the answer.
I took a deep breath. I had to do this. I had to fucking tell him.
I'm fucking sorry, Sparrow.
"It's her."
He stared at me with wide eyes for an eternity before he finally managed to find his voice again.
"Please tell me you didn't kidnap her, Edward," he said almost breathlessly.
If he had to ask me if I hit her on purpose, of course he would also have to ask me if I kidnapped her. It made total sense. Fucked up sense, obviously. But sense nonetheless. I should have been offended, I guess, but I wasn't. I didn't really have the best track record as far as Sparrow was concerned.
"You can ask her yourself," I replied with a sigh. "She needs to get her leg checked out… her cast is pretty beat up."
Dad pushed his chair back and grabbed his jacket that was thrown over the back of it.
"I'll tell Dr. Randall we'll reschedule," he said, as he put his jacket on and started to shuffle the papers together on the desk and shoved them back into Sparrow's folder.
"When did you find out she was missing?" I asked.
"The Chief called the hospital last night, and this morning… her mother even came by. They thought she might have gotten into an accident since she didn't come home."
"She got into an accident alright," I snorted. Dad stilled his movements as he was about to put the folder in his briefcase. He slowly looked up at me. I could almost see how hard his brain was working to try to make sense of it all.
I know the feeling…
"All these times when you have snuck out in the middle of the night, you've gone to Isabella?" he asked, wanting to clarify. I nodded, even though he already knew the answer. "And last night when you ran off… you went for Isabella?" I nodded again. He sighed deeply as she closed his briefcase. "And this morning she was officially reported missing… but all this time she was in your bedroom?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
He studied my face, probably trying to see if I was full of shit or not, then finally decided that I wasn't. He shook his head and sighed.
"Edward, how well do you know Isabella?" he asked.
"Well enough."
"How well?"
I dragged my hands through my hair and sighed in frustration. I had already betrayed her by telling him where she was, I might as well put the final nail in the coffin by answering his question. She might hate me for it, but soon enough she would realize that it was for the best. This wasn't a game, this was literally about life and death. I had to tell him. Telling him meant keeping her safe.
And keeping her safe was all I fucking wanted.
Yeah, it would burn like a fucking bitch to know that she would hate me for it. But that would pass, just like everything else. Nothing remains constant.
"Well enough to know how she got those scars," I replied, my voice hollow and empty.
He met my gaze. "She didn't inflict them herself, did she?" he asked, swallowing thickly as if he knew what was coming.
I shook my head.
"No, she didn't."
I'm sorry, Sparrow.