..::.. Chapter 20 - Mother ..::..

Young - High School, continued...

I sigh. I lock the door behind me and stop to listen. Dad's car was not in the driveway when the limo pulled up. I know he's back at the shop. But where's Mom?

I walk in and make my way to the kitchen.

She's nowhere in sight. I head to the stairs, straight to my room. Maybe rush a little. But of course, I forget to check the living room.

My hair is pulled from behind, just as I reach the first step. I yelp when I hit the wall by the stairs.

She grabs my chin, and she yells, "How dare you do this to your father and me?"

"Mom." I cry. She's never gone this far. Give any Italian bred mother a bit of fire, and she will go ape shit. My grandmother was a tough woman, no bullshit. Today, I think I'll see her in Mom's eyes; wide with rage.

Her hand comes up, and she's hitting me, anywhere, and anything she can reach. I crouch and wince away. I block every blow, but it only makes her angrier.

"You just ruined your life!" she voices with every swing of her arm.

I crawl away and climb the steps. My heels fall off; my scalp is raw with the pull.

"Mom!" I yell with all my might.

She stops. She's panting. Her eyes glazed, tears dripping down her chin.

I shake my head and take a staggered breath.

She hugs me fiercely. We slump onto the steps. My arms are limp beside me, and then I hug her back. We cry over each other's shoulders.

"I love him," I whisper after a long sniffling moment.

She pulls away and holds my face.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," I add through tears.

She lets go. She looks tired, beaten. She limps until she finds her bearings. Her clothes are twisted here and there. She wipes at her smeared makeup.

"Of course you are. That's what they do."

My brows furrow.

"Do you realize … what this all means?" she asks. I stare. Her fists ball up. "You don't own your life anymore, Bella. They do!"

I remember Edward's grandfather's words. Under the family's wing. I shake my head. "Over my dead body," I say.

"That's just it! Don't you get it?" She chuckles maniacally. "It will be over your dead body!"

"Mom, no …"

"Listen to me," she says, kneeling in front of me. She grabs my hands. "You need to forget him. I'll take you to Chicago myself. You can finish school there. You can date any boy you like. I'll … buy you a car. You can make all the friends you need. Stay out late. Anything, anything you want. We'll have so much fun together in the city. New life …"

I'm already shaking my head. "It's too late. I want him. I … gave him everything."

I watch her closely. She gets it. Her eyes drift closed.

"I don't want to go," I say more sternly.

"I could strangle you right now," she whispers.

"I'm sorry."

She looks at me. This conviction darkens her eyes. "I won't let you do this to yourself. I won't."

"Why?"

She watches me. She's about ready to yell again, but she stops herself.

"Tell me. Why is it so horrible?"

"Bella, I just explained this to you. Don't you get it?"

"No, I want to know what I've been so deathly afraid of knowing all my life."

"What? What do you want me to say?" She gets loud.

I look at her for a long moment. She waits confused. "That you don't want me to go through what you did. That Jasper Cullen never meant anything to you. That all those looks and the chase I noticed when I was a kid were all in my head. That I was terrified for absolutely nothing."

She seems to have frozen over. Her lips part and it's enough to know that the color in her face drains out for reasons I've been so adamant about addressing.

I wipe at tears. "I see now that I was right," I plainly say after a silent pause.

I stand, I pick up my scattered shoes, straighten my ponytail and swipe at a welt I know she created around my neck.

I attempt to head up the stairs.

"Isabella Marie, you sit back down, right now!"

Even with all the years I have on me, I still fear that tone. My muscles can't seem to move. My shoulders slump. I melt right onto the step where I stand.

"Look at me."

I don't, and she waits.

I gasp. She pulls on my ankle, and I'm sliding down the steps on my behind until she's in my face.

"Ma!"

"You're a woman now, right? You laid under a man and opened your legs."

My chin trembles. She tightens her death grip on my arms and shakes me hard.

"So let's talk. You and me. Woman to woman. About men who charm, manipulate and make you fall head over heels. Because I did. I was younger than you, and this face," she says pointing at herself, "got all sorts of attention I never wanted.

"Jasper Cullen was older and wiser than a stupid girl who just felt wanted and needed. She didn't know any better. She gave him everything, too, just like you. But what she didn't know, until years later, memories told her that he took it from her, and she didn't even know it."

"God …" I cry and squeeze my eyes shut.

"But she had one person in her life who set her straight. Who was bent on opening her rose-colored eyes and making her see her future—your grandmother. I've never gotten so many beatings in my life. You know why? Because she cared. She shook me out of it. She was wise and had eyes that saw the evilness of men preying on young girl's hearts.

"And it hurt," she says, her voice breaking, "It hurt like hell when I cut him out of my life, the broken one I had left. Your grandmother packed my things and moved me away from the city … where I met the most kind, thoughtful, man I thought I didn't deserve. And I gave him so much trouble to come into this heart," she says pointing at her chest. "It took years. But he was gentle and persistent.

"And guess what? I got you, and I got him. I chose the better man. I chose to be healthy, and I chose to be free."

I sniff back a silent sob.

"And yes, look at us now. We move into the one house that overlooks the Cullen's. And I have to see that man and I have to stomach it! Because fate just does things to tear you apart sometimes, and your father doesn't deserve to know this house, the one he works to the bone for, was destined for heartache. I'd like to hurl my guts out every time that stranger looks my way, but it doesn't matter. I'm here for you, and I'm here for your father who's a very good man.

"So don't tell me how wrong I am. I was never wrong. I did right for myself. What are you gonna do for you?"

I pull away from her hold. Wipe at my tears. Tiredly, I stand and make my way up the stairs, sore and raw.

"I don't know," is what I say. "I don't think I'm as strong as you."

I close the door to my room, but I still hear her sobbing where I left her.

. .

. .

A/N: More on young years later. Present is next for a while (but real ... fun stuff *menacing*). And yes, my mom would have kicked my ass here, too.