The Submissive

Chapter Two: The Phone Call

Bella Swan

When I arrived back home from Jacob's house I was exhausted, weariness enveloped me like a heavy cloak. Every step I took, ascending the staircase that led to the sanctuary of my bedroom, seemed to amplify the strain in my weary knees. Charlie was working that night he wouldn't be home until morning. A sense of relief washed over me, for I knew that his absence would extend until morning, granting me a respite from his questions. If only he were here to witness my current state, I can only imagine the words that would escape his lips. As I ascended the final step, a sense of inevitability washed over me. The day's weariness clung to my skin, demanding respite. The only path forward was clear, a soothing bath awaited, a necessary prelude to the embrace of sleep. Despite my best efforts, the bloody stains from my wounded arm persisted, serving as a haunting reminder of the ordeal I had endured. With great care, I had wrapped the wounded area in a makeshift bandage, hoping to shield it from further harm.

With a heavy heart and weary arms and legs, I made my way from the hall to the refuge of the bathroom. The journey, though short in distance, required an immense amount of effort on my part. With a flick of my wrist, I summoned the hot water to flow from the faucet, its gentle cascade echoing through the tiled bathroom. As I stood there, a mere observer in this mundane ritual, I couldn't help but sense a subtle shift in the air. Tonight, the act of indulging in a bath seemed to hold a deeper significance, an unspoken promise of solace and respite. I ventured towards the bathroom cabinet, my fingers delicately grazing the cool surface as I sought out a treasure concealed within. Many items within were gifts from my mom, tokens of her affection amidst the countless parcels she had dispatched to me since my arrival in the quaint town of Forks. I unveiled the contents, revealing an array of indulgent delights. Bath oils, their fragrant essences swirling in glass vials, beckoned me with their promises of a blissful bubble bath.

With a sense of anticipation, I carefully extracted each item from its confines, delicately placing them into the bubbling cauldron of hot water. As the room gradually filled with a misty veil, a soothing warmth enveloped my being, transporting me to a realm of pure ecstasy. As the porcelain tub filled with warm water, I gracefully glided towards the sink counter, my reflection beckoning me. With a sense of urgency, I embarked on the task of brushing my teeth, their neglected state a consequence of my impromptu stay at the humble tent.

Vigorously, I scrubbed and scrubbed, determined to restore their pristine condition. With a newfound surge of vitality, I mustered the strength to engage in the meticulous act of flossing, ensuring that every crevice between my teeth was thoroughly cleansed. As I diligently worked, I discovered that I had reached the final remnants of my peppermint mouthwash. With a graceful motion, I delicately procured a hair tie from the bottom of the counter cabinet. As I gathered my luscious locks, I deftly fashioned them into a haphazard bun. This act, seemingly simple, liberated me from the burden of the tresses, which had previously weighed upon me.

I gathered a few clean towels, their fabric untouched by the moisture that clung to the ones suspended from the shower door. The faint aroma of Charlie's body wash lingered upon them.

Situated upon the closed lid of the toilet, I delicately retrieved the scissors and nail file from the bag secreted beneath the bathroom sink. With meticulous care, I delicately trimmed and contoured each of my nails, ensuring that they were all fashioned to some measurable standard. Only then did I bestow the same attention upon my toes, meticulously filing them to achieve a uniform size and shape. A sense of contentment washed over me as I beheld the fruits of my labour. It had been so long since I had indulged in these small pleasures, that the memory of such satisfaction had faded into the recesses of my mind. I had never possessed the inclination to engage in the numerous meticulous efforts that seemed to consume the lives of the girls at school. Such endeavours, I surmised, were likely the domain of individuals like Jessica, who, on Sunday evenings, would diligently prepare for the impending return to the hallowed halls.

Despite the weariness that clung to my bones, a flicker of desire burned within me. It whispered of a yearning to tend to my own needs. Inexplicably, the completion of these seemingly trivial tasks held the power to reshape the very fabric of my emotions, casting a radiant glow upon my weary spirit.

I harboured no intentions of undergoing a sudden metamorphosis, wherein I would effortlessly adorn my visage with an elaborate array of cosmetics. However, as I delicately poured a few drops of fragrant bubble bath into the tub, a small flicker of pride ignited within me. Yet, this fleeting moment of contentment left me pondering the vast expanse of possibilities that had eluded my grasp. What other joys and experiences had slipped through my fingers, unnoticed and unexplored?

In the depths of my being, I knew that this was undeniably connected to Victoria. Against all odds, I emerged from the clutches of death, my spirit unyielding. From the moment I set foot in the quaint town of Forks, it felt as though my existence was but a series of carefully orchestrated occurrences. Yet now, a newfound liberation washed over me, releasing me from the shackles of what might have been, and propelling me towards the boundless realm of what could be.

With a twist of the handle, I silenced the cascading water. My hands, still glistening with droplets as I reached for the plush bath towels resting atop the sink. With a gentle motion, I folded them, their soft fibres embracing one another in a tender embrace.

I eased my body into the steaming water, a hiss escaping my lips as I settled into the depths, allowing the bubbles to envelop me. The temperature was far more scorching than my customary baths, tempting me to temper it with a touch of cold. Yet, I resisted the urge, determined to endure the searing heat without compromise.

I felt fifth and for more reasons than one.

I leaned back until I reached the back of the tub and I closed my eyes.

Emmett.

Why was I thinking about him? I hadn't even thought about Edward once since coming home.

Edward's presence had become a constant in my thoughts, an ever-present figure occupying the forefront of my mind. Yet, amidst the chaos of my musings, there was one thing I had managed to avoid entirely - contemplating his enigmatic brother.

Had his gaze not pierced through me with such intensity earlier, I would now find myself reclining here, luxuriating in the effervescent embrace of my bubbles. It was those eyes that plagued my thoughts, their haunting gaze etching itself into the depths of my memory. But if I were to truly bare my soul, I would admit that it was not just the eyes that haunted me; it was everything.

A wave of guilt washed over me as I grappled with the unsettling notion that I had betrayed Edward. The fact that it was Emmett, of all people, who had captured my attention only intensified my inner turmoil. Never had my gaze fallen upon him, not a single time. One question lingered, heavily in mind - what had changed?

We had stood side by side in the face of danger before, our bond forged through hardships and victories. In the dimly lit ballet studio, Emmett emerged, a figure of strength and determination. He had arrived just in the nick of time, his presence serving as a sign of strength. It was in that very moment, after enduring a brutal attack that had nearly claimed my life, that Emmett took it upon himself to face James, the perpetrator responsible for my suffering. In the midst of my anguish, I bore witness to Emmett's iron grip, rendering James immobile, a mere pawn in his hands.

There was every chance Emmett had been looking at me because he smelt the blood from my injury. Every fibre of my being trembled with the realisation that he had detected my vulnerability, his predatory instincts awakening in response to the primal allure of my injury. In such a scenario, one could hardly fault him for his ravenous appetite. Yet, as the weight of the situation bore down upon me, I found myself utterly unequipped to navigate its depths.

With a determined resolve, I embarked upon the ritual of washing my hair, the frothy lather of shampoo cascading through my fingers. As I delved into the depths of my scalp, my nails became instruments of fervour, their tips penetrating the surface with an almost primal intensity. With each deliberate stroke, I felt a gratifying sensation, as if I were unearthing the remnants of grime and sebum that had taken residence within. As I meticulously rinsed out my hair, a sense of renewed vigour coursed through my weary body. To my astonishment, an inexplicable surge of determination compelled me to embark on an additional round of conditioning.

I gently shut my eyes, surrendering to the embrace of the refreshing water enveloping me. As the liquid depths embraced my form, my mind wandered, conjuring thoughts of the enigmatic Cullen family and their nocturnal endeavours. Edward's arrival was imminent, his presence anticipated with bated breath. The others, in the wake of the fierce battle, would soon embark on the arduous task of erasing any lingering traces of the conflict. They would meticulously cleanse the battlefield, meticulously interring the fallen and their fragmented remains. Their collective efforts aimed to restore the land to its former pristine state, as if the harrowing ordeal had never transpired. In the realm of human endeavours, tasks that would ordinarily consume days of labour were swiftly accomplished within the span of mere hours.

Try as I might, my mind refused to obey my command, persistently wandering back to the enigmatic figure of Emmett. Did he, perchance, become cognizant of the manner in which his gaze was fixed upon me? Or was I just over analyzing the entire situation? I refused to succumb to the temptation of obsessing a mere glance, for I knew that such idle speculation would only lead me down a dangerous road of unpredictability.

Before I emerged from the soothing embrace of the bath, I shaved everywhere. I deftly wielded the razor, ensuring that not a single strand of hair remained on my body. It was imperative that I rid myself of any remnants from the day's events, for I yearned to cleanse both my physical and emotional being. The anticipation of nestling into the comforting embrace of Edward's arms later in the night provided solace, assuring me that all worries would dissipate into oblivion.

I gingerly patted myself dry, relishing in the comforting warmth of the towel against my skin. Satisfied, I made my way back to the sanctuary of my room, a newfound energy pulsating within me. In the realm of my usual routine, I would delicately untangle the strands of my hair. With a determined resolve, I retrieved my trusty hairdryer from the depths of my closet, its presence long forgotten. As I delicately connected it to the power source, a surge of excitement coursed through me. Methodically, I secured my luscious locks with clips, meticulously dividing them into manageable sections. The warm gusts of air danced gracefully through my hair, bestowing upon them a captivating allure.

With the task completed, I found myself with countless hours stretching out before me, eagerly awaiting Edward's arrival. A heavy sigh escaped my lips, filled with frustration and restlessness. My gaze wandered aimlessly around the confines of my room, desperately seeking solace in some form of occupation. With a determined spirit, I set myself to work.

With a determined spirit, I embarked on the task of fixing up the house. The first order of business was my bed. Methodically, I stripped away the layers that had borne witness to countless nights of rest. The gentle hum of the vacuum filled the air as I meticulously rid the mattress of any lingering remnants of past sleeps. And then, with a flourish, I summoned my strength and deftly flipped the mattress, as if turning a page. With a delicate touch, I plumped the pillows, ensuring their plushness was just right. With a determined stride, I gathered my worn bedspread, the clothes strewn about the house, and even the discarded towels nestled within the bathroom hamper. But my quest for cleanliness did not end there, for I ventured into Charlie's room, unearthing a trove of forgotten clothes. With a heavy load in tow, I made my way to the washer, ready to clean the clothes of their accumulated grime.

I diligently attended to my duties, going above and beyond by incorporating an additional measure of fabric conditioner into my tasks. With a sigh, I retrieved the freshly dried clothes from the depths of the dryer, their warmth seeping into my fingertips. Carefully, I deposited them into the ever-growing mountain of wrinkled fabrics, forming a formidable ironing pile. For what seemed like an eternity, I devoted myself to the task at hand. One garment after another, I pressed the iron against the stubborn creases, coaxing them into submission. The minutes melted away, blending seamlessly into an hour of unwavering dedication. As I meticulously attended to each item, a peculiar transformation unfolded before my eyes. The downstairs, once a sanctuary of pristine order, now bore the marks of my labour. Clothes, like wayward travellers, had found their way into every nook and cranny, adorning each room with their presence. They hung delicately from their respective hangers, suspended in anticipation, yearning to be transported to their rightful abode upstairs, restoring the downstairs to its former state of tranquilly.

The closets, once barren and desolate, now overflowed with a symphony of colours and textures. The linen cupboards, once empty and void, now housed a treasure trove of neatly folded fabrics. The act of arranging and organising, a labour of love, transformed the mundane task into a ritual of devotion. Then it was time to clean my room, I found myself standing at the threshold, weariness permeating my being. Yet, a resolute determination to execute the duty with utmost precision remained steadfast within me. I was no longer content with the trappings of adolescence, I yearned to imbue my room with an air of maturity. Gently, I removed the finger paintings and cherished mementos that adorned the wall above my desk, each one a testament to the passage of time and the memories shared with Charlie. With great care, I gathered them all, one by one, and tenderly placed them inside a sturdy box that resided atop my closet, a sanctuary where they would remain safeguarded.

I proceeded to my desk, a humble desk adorned with a collection of literary treasures. With meticulous care, I arranged my beloved books, ensuring each one found its rightful place. My attention then turned to my trusty laptop, its once pristine surface now marred by unsightly smudges and remnants of past nourishment. Armed with a cloth, I delicately wiped away the evidence of my previous indulgences, restoring the device to its former glory. Driven by an unwavering determination for order, I embarked on a quest to declutter every drawer within reach. No longer would these compartments serve as havens for miscellaneous odds and ends, nor would they harbour the remnants of fluffy socks that had found their way into the depths of my sanctuary. With unwavering resolve, I sifted through each drawer, meticulously separating the essential from the superfluous, until only items befitting my desk remained.

I ventured into the depths of my closet, a realm of forgotten treasures and discarded memories. I gingerly plucked out clothes that had lost their allure, their once snug embrace now a distant memory. As I carefully folded each article, a sense of liberation washed over me. The weight of these ill-fitting vestments, both physical and metaphorical, was lifted from my weary shoulders.

I even found the time to meticulously curate my clothes for the forthcoming day. Delicately sifting through the depths of my closet, I unearthed a hidden gem - a pair of midnight-hued skinny jeans. Their velvety darkness whispered secrets of forgotten nights in Phoenix. A pristine cotton t-shirt, as pure as freshly fallen snow, was chosen next. And to complete this sartorial symphony, a navy-blue flannel shirt. I sorted through the multitude of shoes that lay in disarray. Their once vibrant colours now faded, their soles worn from countless journeys.

I gingerly unlatched the windows in my room, allowing the gentle night breeze to infiltrate the stagnant air within. As I inhaled deeply, a sense of sheer delight washed over me, for the atmosphere was imbued with an invigorating freshness that invigorated my senses. The melodious symphony of rustling leaves, emanating from the nearby trees, unexpectedly elicited a smile to grace my countenance, as if nature itself was whispering to me.

Once the cleaning products were dutifully returned to their rightful place beneath the kitchen sink, I embarked upon the next task at hand. With a mixture of hope and trepidation, I gathered all of my shoes and deposited them into the waiting embrace of the washer. A silent prayer escaped my lips, beseeching the powers that be for a favourable outcome. I ventured into the depths of the refrigerator, I purged the expired remnants that had succumbed to the relentless passage of time throughout the week. A mental note materialised in my mind, urging me to go food shopping after school tomorrow. That way I could make something special for Charlie's dinner tomorrow night.

As I stood at the foot of the staircase, contemplating my impending mountain of homework awaited my attention. With a heavy sigh I proceed to head up when the shrill ring of the house phone pierced the air. I was convinced that it was Charlie, dutifully checking in from his shift. I swiftly reached for the phone and answered it.

"Hello?"

But there was no response, I couldn't even hear anyone breathing.

"Hello?" I repeated.

The mysterious individual on the other end abruptly terminated the call, leaving me bewildered. I gazed at the phone in my hand, momentarily transfixed, before slowly returning it to its rightful place on the wall.

I headed upstairs at that feeling my energy fading again with every new step. However when I reached the top step I stopped dead in my tracks. Recalling that I didn't hear anyone breathe on the phone, vampires don't breathe.

"Emmett"