Invaded

We laid down in our bed so she could rest. My fingers gently grazing over her back, drawing delicate patterns along her spine until her eyes fell.

She slept for some time, a hint of her smile lingering, even in her dreams.

I watched her laying there. Thankful for her. Hopeful that things would get better for her.

That she would soon know that she was more beautiful than ever.

There were no number of scars that could ever take that from her.

Hours later, she rolled over to face me, still residing in that space between her dreams and being awake.

I wasn't surprised when her hands found my face and drew me towards her. I came to her easily.

Stirred up into her, with one swift movement.

My mouth met hers, and she kissed me slowly, revealing the longing hidden beneath it.

A groan erupted from deep in my chest, shaking its way up my throat.

It had been months since she kissed me like this. But it was all so very familiar to me.

Like a dream I'd had a hundred times before, knowing how it would go. Yet still overwhelmed by every single second that passed.

Running in a pattern that I knew off by heart.

She pulled my shirt over my head, and I slid her shorts down slowly. Taking a moment to enjoy the playful smile that danced across her mouth. Her quiet laughter singing in my ears.

I moved over her. Hearing her breath out my name. Her body arching into mine.

There was nothing but us. Her and me on the chalk white sheets of our bed.

It didn't erase all those horrible and tragic things; it just moved them away. Muffled them until they were nothing more than whispers outside the door. Waiting patiently in the hallway for their chance to skulk back in.

So, I'd move slowly. Delaying them.

Her hands trailing down my back, my mouth against her throat.

My hands tangled in her hair, her legs wrapping around me.

Moving with her in that rhythm we'd created alone. So ingrained, that when something interrupted it, we both froze.

She didn't need to say a word.

The tips of her fingers pressed into me, and her body straightened and tensed.

I pulled back to look at her. Wanting to see her face. Noticing that my hand was under her shirt, flat over her stomach.

I removed it and got off her in one quick motion.

"Are you ok?" I questioned, hearing the fear in my own voice.

She nodded her head, but I could see her lower lip trembling.

"I'm sorry." She stammered out quickly, drawing the sheet up around her bare legs.

Sitting herself up quickly, I followed her movements.

My brow knitted together watching her move, almost frantically.

"You don't have to apologise." I assured her carefully.

She dropped her head. Mouth open, as though she having trouble breathing.

Her panic and mine moulding together, creating a silent chaos.

"Hey. Look at me." I begged weakly in the darkness of the room, only illuminated by the light of the moon.

She raised her eyes to mine, reluctantly. Fearful. Lost.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked, feeling a stampede of terror. Trying to remember if I'd used to much pressure or force.

If I'd missed an important sign.

She shook her head, quickly reaching out to wrap her small hand over my arm, only briefly. "of course, not" she promised me in a rough stammering voice.

I could tell she wasn't lying, but what then?

"Can you tell me what happened?" I asked her softly. Cautiously.

She didn't. She couldn't.

"Is it about the scars?" I questioned, moving closer to her.

There was a moment of hesitation. Assuring me once again that I didn't have all the puzzle pieces.

And maybe if I hadn't seen that look on her face, I could have let it go. Assumed it was all just too much, too fast. Maybe then I would have been able believe that this was about the scars on her skin and not the ones buried beneath it.

"I just…. I don't want you to feel like you have to see them. The ones on my face are bad enough." She told me. Her eyes narrow and full of shame.

"I've seen them, Bella." I reminded her in hushed tone.

Suddenly she rung her hands together tightly. As though she was trying to remove something that only she could see. "Because you had too. This is different." She stammered.

I nodded. "You're right." I sighed.

She looked toward me. Not meeting my eyes. Her gaze landing on my chest. Afraid of what she might find in my expression.

"This time it would have been because I wanted to, not just because I needed to." I explained.

Her eyes closed tight, hands continuing to wring together. Painfully.

"You don't want to see them. They're awful." Her face twisted in disgust.

Her words were like knives in my chest. Digging and slicing. They'd stay now. Until she removed them. But who knew how long that would take.

"I want you. All of you. Always." I whispered, leaning toward her. "You're beautiful Bella. Every inch of you."

She shook her head as I spoke. Desperately trying to hold back the pain I knew she was feeling.

I wrapped my hand over hers, stopping the nervous reaction she was having. Fearful that she was hurting herself.

"He didn't take that from you. No one can" I promised her.

"He ruined everything." She breathed out, continuing to shake her head.

"This was the one thing that was just ours" she cried. "The one time when I could just put everything away and be with you. Now I feel like it's been invaded."

"It's still ours. It was just too soon". I assured her.

Finally, she looked up at me. Nervous and shaking. Eyes burning into mine.

"I hate him so much. Im drowning in it, Edward." She told me, a tremor running through her every word.

I nodded, clenching my jaw.

"I know."

I pulled her into my arms. Desperate to keep her there forever. Horrified that someone could hurt her again.