Chapter 2: La sua rabbia è il suo dolore
Updating any of my stories has been a challenge lately, I feel like I had so little time but it was my birthday last Monday and my sisters took me away for a week as a surprise. I got to see my bonus mum and they threw me a party (Harry Potter themed of course). I'm now back to normal and back focusing on my writing once more so I hope you enjoy this chapter.
As always thank you so much for the love and support. You guys give me strength and motivation, though another special shout out to the fab BabyFoxling, I'd like to remind you that you are an amazing person and I am thankful always for the opportunity to know you. You bring so much light into my life and I adore you.
Just a little reminder that this fic is slower paced. There is a lot of character building/scene setting and our Isabella won't be interacting much with her Alpha for a while. The story will get there so please have patience. :)
TW! for this chapter non graphic of physical violence towards Bella. So if this is something that upsets you then please exercise caution. The scene is written in italics.
I hope you are all well!
~ My love Nell xoxo
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Bella wiped her sweaty hands on her faded blue jean shorts as she stood inside Seattle Airport waiting on her luggage arriving off of the conveyor belt. Not that she had much with her. She didn't own many items and her wardrobe was sparse.
She spotted her tattered duffle bag as it came towards her, looking rather misplaced surrounded by the mass of suitcases and bags that all seemed to be brand new compared to the threadbare bag she called her own. She sighed as she approached it. The now all too familiar feeling of anxiety bubbling in her chest. She dreaded to think what the other passengers around her thought of her and her ratty duffle.
Picking it up she slung it onto her left shoulder before turning towards the airport exit where she was told Charlie would be waiting for her. Trying desperately to ignore the feeling of dread that settled deep in her stomach. She spotted him immediately. Standing in front of his police cruiser in the pick up line. Adorned in his uniform. A beige shirt with a shiny gold police badge attached to his left breast pocket. Black hiking boots and dark brown trousers. It made him look more like some sort of forest ranger, opposed to the police chief he was. More so if one considered the ratty mustache that she could see even from this distance sat upon his top lip. Though the slightly bulging gut that threatened to pop his shirt buttons and his medium yet bulky size reminded her of the father she had seen in the movie 'Matilda' as a child.
From this distance he looked no different to the few photographs she had seen of him. He looked unchanged by time, yet the closer she got the more she could see the hard lines, and jagged edges that made up the one and only Charles Andrew Swan.
Not the man, but the monster her mother had told her horror stories about as a child, stories she thought were merely designed to scare her into submission whenever she behaved a little too much like a child, instead of the miniature adult she had been forced to be. To look at him now she was second guessing her belief that those stories had been nothing more than a fallacy designed to keep her in line.
She could see the anger he carried himself with, the scowl of his down turned thin lips and the permanent frown lines. The likes of which came from years of repeatedly using the same facial expression in day to day life.
Her neck prickled, the tiny hairs at the nape standing on edge as her inner Omega rattled and raged that she needed to run, run far away from the man she now knew smelled like stale beer, leather and rage. An unpleasant mix of pheromones coating her lungs as if demanding she bow down.
She almost did.
She doubted though that such a public display of how much he terrified her would be tolerated or appreciated for that matter. He seemed the type to be concerned about public perception and it would do nothing but cause him issues if his only child was seen to be cowering and bowing before him.
She plastered on a smile, drawing in a deep breath to calm herself before striding towards him. Ignoring the fact that breathing more of his scent into her lungs only made her feel worse than she had previously felt. Her steps only briefly faltered when his dark piercing eyes landed on her. She thought she had made it across the airport without her trademark clumsiness making an appearance and she would have quite likely done a victory dance if it weren't for fate's intervention.
As if it needed to remind her just how uncoordinated she truly was. She misstepped. Her ankle twisting painfully as she fell forward, only barely managing to stick her arms out in time to stop her smacking her face off of the concrete.
Her hands and knees taking most of the impact.
She landed painfully. A soft hiss escaping her lips as loose stone pierced her delicate hands and knees. She cursed her mothers inability to provide suitable clothing. Cursing herself also for never saving enough to buy jeans and trousers as her bare knees scraped painfully. Her shorts not long enough to provide any sort of protection.
She froze as she heard her father growl lowly. A dangerous displeased sound that had fear overcoming her senses as she shook. Sprawled on the ground at his feet.
"Get up or you'll make a fool out of me girl" he barked, continuing to scowl as he stood watching her.
Bella winced as she moved, pushing already cut palms against the concrete to push herself upwards. Getting to her feet unsteadily. "Sorry sir" she whispered, unable to look back up, afraid to see the dangerous expression she was sure adorned his face.
"Move" he commanded, gesturing to the backseat of the cruiser. Bella moved without thought, not wanting to provoke the man that stood in front of her unwilling to test his tolerance. Tucking herself in the backseat of his car like some unruly pre-schooler rather than the seventeen year old she was.
The atmosphere in the car was a tense one, Her father's scent heavy in the air, his displeasure drowning out her own scent she was sure. She shrunk in her seat. Feeling the need to make herself as physically small as possible to match how small she felt in this man's presence. Maybe the smaller she became the less likely he was to remember she was here?
The coming months seemed like they would be far more unbearable than she had initially thought they would be. She had a feeling that surviving Charlie would be a daily chore. A sense of foreboding settling in her bones as they drove away from the airport. Towards the unknown.
~~~~~~~~
Forks - Washington was a speck of a place with a population of around 3,000 people that was located in the Western end of the Olympic Peninsula.
She supposed the town's weather matched her mood perfectly as she listened to the sound of rain hitting heavily on her window pane. The sound seemed to drown out all else around. Not that there was much else to hear in this miserable little town. The rare car passing on the road out of town, some owl far off in the distance and the occasional voice of a pedestrian as they passed by the house.
Her father's home, a nice looking two story home with two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, a kitchen and a living room, was not all that much to look at. Especially as it sat marking the last residential home on the road throughout town. Any further down and you were leaving Forks behind you completely.
She already wished she could leave Forks completely.
All the rooms in the house were rather cosy looking, the furniture was a little dated and certainly dusty but perfectly cosy none the less. All except her room of course. She didn't think Charlie could communicate any clearer how little he cared for her, even if he were to scream it.
The single mattress, threaded blankets, rickety desk and lamp communicated how little he cared for her perfectly though. The four items were all that stood in her room if you didn't count the built in closet. Painting a grim picture of just how little Charlie thought of her.
If only it had been the only message he had given her since she had arrived less than 12 hours ago.
He had dropped her off after a long, tense and painfully quiet drive, advising her gruffly that he expected dinner to be ready at five sharp for when he came home. Before storming out of the house, driving off in his cruiser, back to work.
Sensing the threat in his demands Isabella had wasted no time at all in getting to work. Finding a meal schedule taped to the fridge and all the ingredients she needed to make the planned for dinner. Steak, potatoes and green beans.
She had smiled a little at the organisation, noting with amusement that she doubted it was Charlie who had made it so. Her amusement softened her anger a little at being treated like some sort of nineteen fifties housewife by her own father, distracting her from the sting she felt at his angry demeanor and lack of any care for her wellbeing.
Looking at the clock she had decided that with an hour to spare before she had to start cooking she would explore and unpack a little, hoping that if she completed his set task and he saw she had been busy he may soften a little.
She had been wrong.
Five pm rolled around and the brunette had put the freshly made dinner on the table. Steaming hot and smelling rather wonderful if you asked her. She had even managed to cook the potatoes perfectly!
She sat patiently at the kitchen table waiting for Charlie to return, busying herself with thoughts of what was to come in the following days. She enrolled in Forks High school tomorrow morning, which meant more school bullies and days of endless torture. But needs must. She was determined to soldier on. She needn't fit in much, or try to really. It had never worked and she was just fine on her own, thank you very much.
It wasn't until five thirty came and went that she allowed herself to feel worried about where her father had gotten too. With that came the worry about his well being. She didn't know him per say but he was her father and therefore she couldn't help but worry about him getting hurt while in the line of duty. Even if that care and concern was one sided.
She had watched the clock, nervously pacing, chewing on the inside of her lips as she waited. Barely breathing as her anxiety steadily grew. Taking a deep breath she tensed, the front door opening and slamming shut as he entered. The house quickly being coated in that same cloying, angry scent once more. Putting her on edge even more as his grim looking face stormed into the kitchen, the man throwing himself on the chair where his dinner sat.
He didn't acknowledge her, merely pulled the plate towards himself, cutting up and shovelling the first bite into his mouth.
He spat it out, making her cringe in both fear and disgust.
"It's cold!" he spat angrily, finally looking at her as he shoved the near enough untouched plate back across the table.
"I can reheat it?" she answered, swallowing the bile in her throat when her words only seemed to enrage him further. She flinched at the pure hatred shinning back at her from her fathers eyes as he stood abruptly. Towering above her when he drew himself up to full height. His five foot 11 build making her own five foot two seem even smaller.
"I don't want second best girl, throw it in the trash where it belongs." He thundered and Isabella couldn't help but cringe at his willingness to waste perfectly good food.
"I'm sorry!" she whispered, unsure how to respond. The brunette cried out as she was suddenly grasped by the front of her shirt and slammed against the kitchen wall. Her back hitting the concrete painfully and his clenched fist where it gripped her top pushed in to her chest.
"Let this be a lesson, next time I won't be so nice. Now bin it child and then get out of my face. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night." he released her, stepping back, swiping her plate up from the table as he passed it, dumping it in the bin before gesturing for her to get on with his demands.
She sniffled, trying desperately to hide the tears of frustration that threatened to leak down her face. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Charlie was far too much like Phil for her to ever willingly crumble in front of.
She had the feeling that he too would take great pleasure in her suffering as her 'mothers' mate did.
Now she lay curled on her side, rubbing at the soreness on her chest. The skin where he had pressed his arm and elbow against was already starting to bruise.
She had bathed quickly before locking herself in her room for the night. She had made sure to escape his reach after she had complied with binning the food she had tirelessly made. Though overhearing him order take out had angered her greatly.
It was insulting and more than a little worrying to learn so quickly that Charlie seemed to be perfectly comfortable using food and physical aggression as a form of acceptable punishment.
Her stomach growled loudly as if to torment her and for Isabella, already emotionally overwrought and over tired it was the last straw. She felt her composure crack. Her upset and despair sent the tears she had previously held back, cascading down pale features. Her body curled into itself tightly as she shook with raw, pained emotion.
And not for the first time nor the last, she sobbed herself to sleep.