AN: As always thank you for leaving a reply.
In this chapter the main characters are going to discuss the elephant in the room. Trigger warning.
Chapter 20 - Elephant in the room
Part I
"Breathe, Edward," she said at last, something he'd said to her very often these past few hours. He sounded like he was choking. She grew uncomfortable at the sight.
She heard him groan, his head hanging low between his knees now.
"Does this happen a lot to you?" she asked quickly, realizing that she was growing paniced at his panic.
Looks like a panic attack... He was clutching his chest. Or a heart attack? Oh God. She had killed Edward Cullen with a heart attack.
"I'm going to call an ambulance," she said panicked, trying to think where she'd left her phone. In her coat. That was in the living room.
"For fuck's sake, don't," he groaned. "Just don't."
He could barely breathe. She dropped herself in front of him, trying to figure out what to do.
"Do want to drink something?" she said in a lame respone, extending her coke, but when he didn't take it, she placed it on the ground in front of him instead.
She wasn't good at providing medical care. Or psychiatric care, if he was having a panic attack.
"Please tell me what I can do," she said. His eyes were tightly shut. His entire body was shaking.
"Go back inside," he said in such a quiet voice she almost missed it. She pondered it. Scratched her head nervously. Damn it. She didn't have it in her to leave him. Not now. Not like this.
Think, Bella, think...
In the meantime he lied down on his back and clutched his chest tightly. She leaned over him in a panic.
"Are you dying?" she asked, tears welling up. "If you're having a heart attack now, because you hate to give up your control, then take it! Have it back! And let me call an ambulance for you-"
"For fuck's sake," he groaned, panting. "I'm not having a heart attack. If you'd call an ambulance, they'd come over, laugh in my face and give me a paper bag to breathe into."
A paper bag? He admitted he was having an attack, caused by panic, rather a medical condition? He turned his face away from her and she noticed he was clearly suffering.
"Edward," she said, placing her hand on top of his on a reflex. He turned his head towards her in slight surprise, his hand frozen in her grip. "It's fine. Having control is- your identity so you can have it back, really-"
He snapped his hand out of hers.
"Stop talking shit and do not touch me," he said painfully slow, the words registering instantly. "Ever again."
He forbade her? To touch him?
Edward pulled himself up until he sat, while still clutching his chest. She was left with a bullet in her heart upon his comment. He forbade her to touch him? She felt completely helpless. She couldn't take over control. What did that even mean?
"Edward," she said, reaching for his hand again.
He was quick to away from her touch, his hand suddenly high, dragging her back to moment- a moment long ago when his open hand had met her cheek in a slap not too painful but cruel and unforgivable nonetheless. She flinched at the memory and her current thought that Edward was going to slap her face again. She closed her eyes, waiting. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes slowly, noticing both his hands balled into a fist, shaking, on his lap.
"I'm not ever touching you again, ever," he said in a hard tone, snapping his eyes to hers. "I can see it in your eyes that you thought I was going to hit you, but I will not ever touch you again." There was vivid pain, remorse and panic in those green orbs. "I'm sorry I am the cause for making you have that memory permanantly stuck in your head. For making you believe that I would slap your face again. Why don't you fucking go and call that ambulance? Alright?"
He sounded sure. He agreed to an ambulance. He had given up his control, after all. She got up on her feet, and found herself into the kitchen, feeling competely useless as she searched for a paper bag in vain. What did she do when she had a panic attack?
Breathing excercises.
Talk herself out of it.
Think new thoughts.
Splash cold water on her face.
She reached into the cabinets and found a large bucket. Yes, that would work. She placed the water in the sink and put the tap on, letting it fill with water. The bucket read it could fill up to twenty liters. That should do it. The minutes passed slowly as she saw the bucket slowly fill. Edward would never touch her again. She wasn't allowed to touch him. He told her he'd never slap her face again. She hated that her body reacted so fiercely upon past trauma's. She didn't blame her body for reliving those brutal trauma's. She understood completely that those trauma's would forever be part of her. She'd been manipulated, hurt, tortured, and left for death.
When she heard the bucket pour over because it was entirely full, she closed the tap and hoisted the bucket out of the sink with much difficulty. She splashed water accidentaly over the floor as she walked with it handle in both hands and reached Edward.
Here it goes. He had her back against her, still trembling, still choking on air. She held the bucket up higher, realizing how heavy twenty liters really was, let go of on of the handles, and tipped it over with her free hand. She meant to throw the water slow, so it'd wake him up from his panic. Instead, as soon as the bucket tipped over, her grip weakened and the bucket poured empty within seconds all over Edward's head, drenching his body. She saw the water split when it hit his head hard and his body jerked upon the contact. It was as soon as all the water had poured over him, she realized it was way too much water. It drenched him completely.
"Fucking hell," he snapped, getting up on his feet and turning around, surprise and anger in on his face. And she hadn't bother to warm the water, either. That idea didn't cross her mind.
How come good idea's only appeared after the moment passed? She suddenly realized what she'd done - she dumped a bucket of ice cold water all over him. She stood frozen with the bucket, still tipped over and stared at his now confused eyes and much less angry.
At least he was breathing again, normally. He stared at her for a long time, not speaking. As if he was waiting for an explanation.
"See?" she said shakily, trying to act normal. "You're a bit better now?"
There was a clear question in her voice, because she knew for sure that he wasn't better now. He narrowed his eyes at her and reached in his pocket, taking out his phone. He pressed a button a few times, and it seemed to be in vain...
Shit. She hadn't bother asking first if he had any electronic devices near him before she dumped water all over him.
He brought his eyes up to her, suddenly blank.
"You killed my phone," he said, tense.
"Well- Oh... Luckily, you're not broke, as you mentioned before, so you can easily buy a new phone," she said quickly. "Problem solved."
She dropped the bucket on the pavement. And felt mortified. She was quick to turn on her heels, and went back inside the house, to where she previously sat, staring at the pizza's. To say she felt mortified was an understatement.
What had she done?
Edward stepped into the room as well, soaking wet, phone still in his hand. She quickly jumped up, and he watched her intently.
"I'm not good with giving comfort," she said quickly. "In fact, I'm terrible at it." He was about to say something, but she interrupted him quickly. "Anything that's medical, don't ask for my help. I'm a writer, not a doctor. I just wanted to break you out of your panic and I didn't know-"
"Okay," he said quietly.
Okay? As if he simply... gave in.
Okay? She felt herself make a face.
Okay? He must be angry, he must be.
"Just okay?" she asked.
"Sure," he said, shrugging. "Just okay."
The atmosphere felt tense, fake and strange. Any sane person would be angry. But he seemed to surpress his true feelings. And she didn't like it went something was faked. She was so uncomfortable, holding herself tightly. He had to be angry. He was just... forcing himself not to be. That had to be it. She even heard the water dripping from his clothes on the floor beneath him.
"You know, we're both pretty fucking out of our element here," he said suddenly, giving her a strange look. "How about I leave you to your thoughts for a moment? I'll go change my clothes at my place."
He glanced around the house and found a pen. He started writing something on one of the pizza boxes.
"It's my number, in case you need it."
In case you need it. She glanced at it in shock. He's leaving? Oh, God. He gave her a fake number. No, wait, worse. It might be his number, but his phone was dead. She couldn't call him, even if she needed to. Meaning... meaning, he took back his control... He was going. He was leaving her, for good this time.
Edward turned around and her chest clenched. She couldn't surpress her harsh breaths. This panic hit her harder than whichever attack she'd ever had before. Edward glanced back briefly, scoffing, watching her with slight worry.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
She shook her head hard and kept it all in. Kept her sobs in. Kept her emotions in. She yearned to know how to be a robot. To not feel, to not think, to not be human and to be able to let things go easily.
"Hey," he said urgently. "I'm coming back." He's lying. He wasn't coming back. "I live on the other side of the city and there's no traffic now. Should take me less than thirty minutes."
He'd leave, and this time he wouldn't come back after six months. He was leaving for good.
"Don't make me fill up that bucket with water for you," he said with a careful joke in his voice.
She started to choke. Because he's going anyway. Now the dizzy spells began. Oh, no. She hated this. She heard him shuffle closer to her.
"Sit down now before you faint and hurt yourself. Go on, sit."
What she hated more, was that he in fact could read her and that Edward now felt forced to stick around to take care of her. She sat down quickly because he was right. She was dizzy and close to blacking out.
He came to sit as well, opposite of her on the same place he previously sat. Water was dripping all over him. Bella was full on panicking in her mind. She would soon be left alone to fend for-
"I'm not abandoning you," he said in a voice too loud for her mind to be able to ignore it or pretend he didn't say it.
When she met his eyes, his were already on hers.
"Not like last time," he added.
She felt her body take over the panic that was in her mind. Her hands were shaking and she hid them under the table.
"Ease down," he said in a calm tone. "I'm staying right here."
"You're a liar," she said, her voice unsteady. "You said you can't read me and if you can, it's barely. But, you're reading me like the simplest book. You know exactly what I'm thinking and what I'm feeling. Like you're reading a very boring book that you wish you'd never began to read in the first-"
"I read you with much difficulty that it's cracking my fucking head open," he deadpanned. His hard stare unnerved her, but there was a demand in his eyes for her to not glance away. "You're the most hardest person I've ever encountered to read and that makes this game we play fucking dangerous."
What game? She didn't realize they were playing any game, let alone for it to be dangerous. Her heartbeat started pounding against her chest hard and she wasn't sure if it was due to her panic or because he sounded sincere and made no sense.
"Nothing about you screams easy or simple. You should be hating me for what I've done to you. Instead you panic upon the thought of my permanent departure from your life?"
His words registered a little. But she thought she understood.
She should hate him. She really should. According to him.
"Go, then," she said. "Permanently. It's not like I can call you. I'm not stupid, you know? Your phone is dead. Joke is on me, right, as I try to call you to hear your phone is disconnected. Or maybe it's a false number." She was breaking down right in front of him. She tried to control herself. There was plenty of time from breaking down once he's gone.
He leaned back in the chair, raised an eyebrow and smiled in an unamusing way.
"I'm the idiot for giving you my number and not explaining that I have a spare phone or two at my place," he said in a very self-assured voice. "I was going to switch my sim card into another phone as soon as I got the chance."
Bella grew silent, feeling unwelcome to further discuss this subject. He'd deny whatever she was saying anyway. The tension between them was awkward, unknown and very uncomfortable. She snuck careful glances at him, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. He seemed to be somewhere in his own thoughts. And she also noticed that he was shivering, most likely from cold. He had wanted to leave, briefly, to his house. Just to change his clothes. Instead he sat across from her now in his soaking wet cold clothes as a way to prove a point to her. That he wasn't leaving.
Bella felt weak upon her panic attack, that was easing down after he told her to ease down, but nonetheless she still felt weak. But even upon her weakness, she currently controlled Edward. Any sane person would want to, perhaps even demand that they go change their clothes. But Edward didn't.
Oh, dear God. He was a damn lunatic. Bella didn't know how to control Edward. His middle name was control. He used to be a CEO for goodness sake. He was the owner of a large company. At his young age. It made no sense for him to be here.
"Why is your haircut so crooked?" he said, his voice bringing her out of her mind.
Her hair? She touched her hair. It was his first comment on her haircut - her once long hair, reaching well below her waist, now barely touching her shoulders.
She noticed he was diverting the subject.
"I cut it."
"I noticed," he said, his eyes flickering over her hair. "Was your hairdresser drunk?"
Great... She hadn't noticed herself really how good or perhaps even how terrible her haircut was. But if there was one thing Bella no longer care about, it was her looks.
"I wasn't drunk earlier today," she said, giving him her own smirk. "Like I said, I cut it."
He gave her a curious look, his eyes shifting from her left to her right shoulder.
"If it bothers you, stop looking at it," she said in a hard snap.
"Doesn't bother me," he said with a small shrug. "The tension between us, that's what bothers me."
She sucked in a breath, upon his honest comment. He also felt the horrible atmosphere.
"Why did you cut it yourself?" he asked.
They were talking about her hair, still? He was challenging her, so it seemed, to talk. About her hair. She wanted to say that she had no interest in discussing her mental break down this morning, but her voice thought otherwise.
"Because I hate it when people touch me and the lack of a cut in over year with all previous hair dye for Playboy had turned my hair into straw, so I cut it."
He nodded. And shivered. She swallowed nervously at the thought that he was currently uncomfortable in his wet clothes at her expense. That didn't seem right.
"Why today?" he asked, even though she could see it in his eyes, that he already knew why.
She glanced away. "Mental breakdown," she said curtly.
She sighed and touched her hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
She diverted the subject quickly to him. "You're cold."
"Fuck me," he said curtly just as well. She felt her eyes widen. "What triggers your mental breakdowns?"
"You're more vulgar than before," she pointed out, switching subject again.
If he could switch subjects, than so could she.
His lip twitched. "So I've been told."
"I never mentioned it before..."
"No, not you, but my family did," he said. "My parents can't stand it, in fact."
His parents? It was a strange notion to hear him speak of them.
"Are you as controlling towards them too as you are to me?"
He steered his head. "Few weeks ago my mother shoved a bar of soap in my mouth when I didn't stop cursing."
Bella blinked at the image. His face didn't show any signs of unseriousness.
"Surely... not?"
"Ask her yourself."
She tried to remain calm at his clear invite in those innocent three words. Ask her yourself. How could he say that?
"She wanted to visit you in the hospital," he said, shutting his eyes briefly. "To meet you. To apologize. To thank you. But I told her not to."
Her lips parted in shock. His mother?
"Why?" she asked, so many questions all at once.
Why did she want to visit her? Why did he forbade her? Why would his mother even want to meet her?
"It didn't feel right for my mother to speak with you, after everything. I will tell her that she's free to speak with you. It's no longer up to me to stop them from reaching out to you."
Them?
Who on earth was them? He said his mother, singular. But them was plural. Who else wanted to reach out? Other family members? He spoke so easily about his family and their wish to speak with her. Her, Bella Swan? But she was just- just- an ordinary person. Who'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time, falling in love-
Stop thinking.
"If you're sharing the triggers of your mental breakdown, I can try to avoid those to my best abilitly. That's the only reason I asked."
Back at that subject... Mental triggers.
"I'll share mine, if you first share yours," she said as bravely as she could.
He hummed. "Right. Fair enough. Do you want to hear them all at once, or are we sharing them one at once to each other?"
"Whichever is fine."
He nodded. And didn't hesitate voicing out his first trigger.
"The video's James sent me." There was a weary look on his face.
"Do you still watch those?" she asked horrified. He nodded. "Why?"
"I just can't stop replaying them," he said slowly, defeatedly.
"Then let me erase them from your phone," she said, handing out her hand.
He held up his phone. but didn't give it to her.
"It's dead, darling," he told her with a smirk. "Remember?"
She felt her heart beat skip at the chosen word to adress her. Something in his eyes flickers, but he quickly hardened his face.
"But you can erase them from my back up account on my laptop. If that's what you want."
Darling, she thought. Why did he say darling?
"Your turn," he said when she had grown silent.
One at a time, it was then.
She pointed, waving around. "This house."
He was quiet for a long time.
"I think it's still odd," he said carefully. "Nobody offered help with your new place?"
"I declined... and avoided help."
"Why?" She usually hated the question why. It reminded her of someone accusing her. Now, however, it seemed merely genuine curiosity.
"Afraid of life outside the hospital," she muttered. "The nights on my own. Waking up to nightmares. Starting over. On my own."
He was watching her with a scoff.
"It seemed like a big joke. So not thinking about it meant I could just ignore my discharge. Up until today."
His eyes were swimming with questions.
So she quickly said, "Your turn."
His lips opened slowly. "Your left hand."
Which was currently under the table. She held it quickly with her right one, protecting it.
"To be reminded again that they broke two of your fingers and you suffered tremedously, didn't receive any medical care. That I held you hand that same day and didn't drag you to the hospital myself for care." She held her hands tighter. "For letting you go that day, knowing something truly horrible was going on but not knowing what."
His voice trembled from probably cold or the memory of the trauma it caused on him - Bella trembled too, from the memory of that time.
"Basically, that whole day," he said in a hard tone. "That's the largest trigger."
Hence the panic attack and his current wet hair and clothes. He'd been saying he wanted to hear her pleasure... rather than her cries of pain. The ones he heard and memorized from hearing those video's so often.
"That same day, you gave in to James," she spoke softly. "You gave up the CC. For me... Even though you hated me."
He pressed his lips against each other hard, but they still trembled.
"If you hadn't done that," she said. "I would still be stuck under James' threat." A sad feeling suddenly consumed Bella. A defeat of her own. "I don't know what else James would have done or made me do, if you hadn't made that decision. Everything changed when you gave in to James."
He didn't really respond. It was his biggest trigger, after all? It would always be his worst memory.
"Is your family-" she began awkwardly. "I mean- Are they upset about the CC?"
There was was that intense gaze upon her again, while is very much human side was shivering hard from the cold.
"Upset?" he asked. "What the fuck?" He rubbed his fingers over his temples, shutting his eyes hard momentarily. "You haven't been following the news? Have you?"
Uh, damn. The news. "What makes you think that?" she asked, defending herself weakly.
"Because you'd know better than to ask that question if you've been following the news."
"No, I haven't been following the news," she admitted. She may or may not have noticed his surprise, which he tried to hide.
"For fuck's sake," he murmured. "It was all over the news."
Now she wondered what? What was all over then news?
"Why have you been avoiding the news?" he asked. Again, mere curiosity in his voice. Accustion? None.
"There used to be so many rumors about me," she said in shame. She sighed to herself. She wasn't bulletproof anymore against rumors. One piece of wrong information would get to her.
He was analyzing her again, and she stared right back at him. Even if it unnerved her. Let him read her. Let's she what he'd find out. She was curious, as well.
"Even if you didn't follow the news, no one ever told you anything?" he asked pointedly.
She shook her head, trembling. "I didn't want to be informed about what people were talking about, behind my back. I couldn't."
There was that sharp look in his eyes again. "The truth has been spoken," he said firmly.
She felt her own eyebrows raise at that. The truth, huh? What was the truth even? Didn't the truth vary, from one's point of perspective?
"My family to begin with is greatful. They've spoken nothing but praise towards you. The CC, it's power and money was nothing. It was my father's idea to not renovate the building after the bomb had ruined several floors. It was my mother's idea to create something new in honor of you."
Something inside her chest cramped at the new information. It wasn't as horrid as she thought, but it was news. Something she'd been avoiding very hard to hear or read about.
"You saved my life. It's all over the news. And my family will never forget that."
No, no, no, no... He just continued telling her about what was spoken on the news, even if she didn't feel ready.
"The truth has been spoken," he repeated. "Even Aro cleared your name and mentioned the abuse you suffered during your time at Playboy magazine. That's why they were charged and you were greatly compensated."
What the hell? Aro? A man from her past, so long ago. What did he even have to do with anything?
Edward steered his head.
"Have you checked your back account?" he asked.
"I've someone who does my finances," she said stiffly.
"Right. That explains it all."
She looked away from him.
No. She had no idea what her bank account read.
"I've also admitted to the sexual abuse you endured because of me. In my office. What I did to you. That I used you three days after your broken jaw surgery. That I added to a delayed recovery."
She gasped, ashamed the that- that- the whole world knew? Or at least, it was somewhere out there, in the news? Oh, God. Why? What did the news articles say? Edward Cullen... admits to sexual abuse... against his former employee, Isabella Swan?
She tried to get rid of the image.
"Why on earth would you admit that?" she cried in shock.
She shook her head still, unable to hear any more. The tension was worse than before, much worse. She was dumbfounded. He was vomiting a bunch of information on the table. His family didn't think badly of her, Aro admitted abuse and so did Edward?
If Aro was charged... She could only wonder.
"Were you charged too, like Aro?"
He watched her blankly. Bella grew more and more uncomfortable. She never filed anything against him, though. So he couldn't have been charged for any crime.
Right?
Then again, she hadn't filed anything against Aro either and he'd been charged. Meaning that if Edward admiditted to any abuse, that he had to be charged too.
"I pleaded guilty for sexually assaulting you," he said. "For raping you."
Bella swore her heart stopped beating.
"What?" she asked, feeling her eyes squint and wondering if she heard him right.
"You know," he began slowly, his eyes narrow and his voice skeptical. "I didn't just hurt you. I raped you. How come you're so blind to see what's right in front of you?"
She could see it, clear as day, the moment he did what he did. His dark, angry eyes, his force, his roughness. That moment, on her knees, had been one of the worst.
"You deserve someone that isn't me. Obviously."
She closed her eyes. Unable to hear anymore. Tears fell from her closed eyes.
"Don't cry. Rejoice. Be happy. Go live your life."
She felt like she just died. Her heart already stopped beating anyway. Now she felt dead.
"Hate me instead."
Hate? Hate him?
He grew silent for a long time as she silently sobbed, no longer ashamed of her tears and pain in his presence.
"You look like you're dying on the inside," he said eventually.
She laughed without meaning to, but it was so sudden she couldn't stop it. He was able to exactly read her. He could voice out exactly what she felt. When she opened her eyes, she felt her wet eyelashes stick to each other.
"Rotting away slowly, too," she said in her own dark voice, feeling empty.
He scoffed, taken-aback clearly.
She felt her hands tremble, unaware so much had happened without her knowing it. Why did everything he say hurt so damn much?
"That means- you've..." She could barely speak, her voice nothing above a whisper. "You're family, friends, coworkers- basically everyone-"
Her mind refused to believe what he'd just said, and neither could she voice her thoughts.
"Everyone knows what I did to you," he said. "Yeah."
His eyes flickered - it seemed to happen more often now.
"Which is a good thing," he said. "So how about we both stop ignoring the elephant in the room? I assaulted you sexually. And I'm currently on probation."
Her mouth went dry at his changed behaviour.
"If you called the police right now, and told them what I did to you in the bathroom, they'll lock me up for up to five years. I can make the call myself and plead guilty."
She quickly got on her feet and started pacing, even if she was still dizzy.
No. God, no. He wanted to go to jail? Is that what he was saying?
"What's happening right now?" Bella asked in panic.
She stepped forward to him but he got up on his feet as well, stepping away from her.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
His gaze watched her like a hawk.
"What the hell have you done?" she snapped.
"Why are you doing this?" he snapped instead. "What's so hard about letting me go? I'm shit."
He's shit? And that's why he wanted to go to jail?
He kept taking steps away from her, so she stopped getting near him. He was as always tall, dark, in a way his own enigma.
But he didn't intimidate her.
Not anymore.
She could imagine Edward in his office, giving in to James even if he hated her. Letting James have the entire company and generation of hard work for the woman he hated. He gave in. He did that, for her. That meant something. Bella truly believed that.
Edward, apparantly, didn't believe that. He wanted to go to jail. Damn him! Damn him!
"You're not shit," she disagreed in a hurry.
He glared at her, but didn't speak at his apparantly newfound anger. She could see it in his eyes that he was getting angry.
"You want jail time?" she asked, confused. "You want punishment? Is that it?"
He laughed with no humor. "I deserve to be in prison. All rapists do."
Rapists.
There was a tension that was cutting Bella into a million tiny pieces. Edward kept vomiting that word and she hated it. He was right about one thing, though. They were finally talking about the elephant in the room.
"If you had treated me like you didn't care," she said. "I would have believed you."
Because even behind all his anger and hatered, his action to hurt her which he did, he had shown he also cared. That he wasn't heartless. He'd given in to James. What did that make him? What exactly would that mean? Did that make him a bad person? Or did that make him a person who made a bad decision because he'd been coaxed into that behaviour? Because James had been a massive manipulative force for a long time?
"You are delusional," he snapped. "I treated you like I didn't care. Because I didn't care. Not about you, your jaw, your pleasure. I took you. I am currently on probation."
There it was again. He was on probation. But he wasn't in prison. That meant something too.
"Oh yeah?" she said, trying to think quick about the law. Truthfully, she knew even less about law than medicine. "If you were a rapist, then why are you not currently behind locked bars then?"
She didn't expect that talking about the biggest elephant in the room - that day- the sexual assault- the rape... She didn't expect for it to be so difficult. He was completely ignoring the cruel choice Bella had been given between being hurt by Edward or a weekend filled with misery... She shuddered at the memory.
"Because the law in the states is fucked up," he said angrily.
"Is that really so? Maybe, you are the delusional one. For thinking you're a rapist."
His body shook, let it be from cold or anger, Bella had no idea.
"I'm trying fucking hard, Bella, but my patience is wearing thin. I- I'm gonna fucking go, I think. I thought I could do this, but I can't."
This time, his threat of a departure didn't frighten her. Instead, she used it against him.
"Run away, Edward," she said in her best condescending tone, almost singing the words in his face. "It's what you're good at, after all."
Through his anger, he flinched. Which meant she was still able to hurt him. Which meant Bella still held power over him, to hurt him. To point out the facts that probably felt like bullets in his chest.
"Go drown in your misery," she added. "Be delusional."
He was breathing hard. But didn't leave yet. "You are delusional. And blind."
She felt her own rage coming up. If one of them was delusional, it was him. For pretending her truth didn't exist.
But she tried to understand him.
"Explain why you think I'm delusional and blind," she said, waiting.
And waiting, and waiting.
He looked at her as if she was the mad one.
"James wanted to kill me," he said in a deadly tone. "That's starting to become more and more obvious. But my death would mean he'd be the first they would suspect. So he used you to get what he wanted. But he never suspected your suicide. He never tought you'd take it that far for me. Do you know why?"
She didn't know why. "You're the mind reader. You tell me."
AN/ sorry for the cliff hanger, but next chapter will be up soon.