Chapter Eleven

For the second time in less than an hour, Edward found himself speechless. His eyes were focused on the three-inch scar stretching across Bella's milky white abdomen. Bringing his hand up to cover his mouth, he swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. What kind of man tries to kill his own daughter?

"Carlisle had been gone almost eighteen months," Bella started, letting her shirt drop. Sliding up on one of the cabinets, she took a deep breath, remembering every miserable detail from that night. "With him gone, I had to help my father in his bar, even though I wasn't old enough. The police overlooked it, and I just made sure to get them their beers on time. Friday nights at the bar were always hectic. Lots of drunks out spending their paycheck, washing away whatever memory they could. Blaring music and at least a hundred people over capacity, my father refused to turn anyone way, not if it meant he could squeeze at least one more dollar out of some poor loser."

Pausing, Bella raised her hand, brushing her hair back out of her face. "We were about an hour from closing when one of the regulars, Alec, started getting a little too friendly. Nothing I hadn't already dealt with before, but he'd been drinking heavier than normal, and, um, well, he started grabbing me, trying to pull me into his lap. I pushed him away, telling him to leave me alone."

Edward wanted to hold her, to tell her to stop talking, but his legs wouldn't move, and the words were stuck inside his throat. So, instead, he stood there, watching and listening as she revealed horrors he had only read about. His heart broke.

"Of course, Alec, being a mean and ugly drunk, blew up at me, screaming at me for teasing him, calling me a dirty, cock-sucking whore. Everyone inside the bar turned and looked at us, but my eyes were locked on my father's, and I knew . . ." She lifted her eyes to Edward's. "I knew he planned to kill me."

Walking past her, Carlisle headed to the front of the bar, snagging a bottle of Stranahan's Colorado Whiskey, one of his favorites, and three glasses. When he came back, he saw Edward and Bella staring at each other; her begging him to listen, him trying to understand the impossible. Pouring each a healthy amount, he shoved a glass in both their hands.

"I don't drink," muttered Edward while Bella accepted hers with a tentative smile.

"You will when you hear the rest," grunted Carlisle, taking a hefty swig from his glass.

Bringing her glass up to her lips, Bella took a drink, wincing when the liquor burned her throat. "My father rushed over to us, pretending to be offended that Alec would dare talk to his daughter like that, grabbing the neck of his shirt and tossing him out the front door. He even went as far as coming over and hugging me." Letting out a harsh, bitter laugh, she took another drink, this one deeper than the first. "Leaning down to my ear, he whispered, 'You're going to pay for that, you little bitch.' He put on one hell of a good show; I'll give him that," she jibed, finishing her drink.

Turning to Carlisle, she motioned for him to refill her glass. "Take it easy, sugar," he cautioned her, pouring another drink.

Nodding her head, she took another sip. "He announced last call, and everyone started leaving. On the outside, I tried to stay calm, keep some sense of control. But on the inside, I was a mess. I'd seen him angry before, but this time, everything seemed different."

Setting her glass down next to her, she hopped off the counter and began pacing. "When the last person left, he locked the door, turning back to look at me. He started toward me, throwing chairs out of his way, flipping tables. Before I could even blink, he had me pinned against the wall, hand wrapped firmly against my throat."

Closing her eyes, she shuddered; the onslaught of memories was almost too much for her. Picking up her glass, she took another swig. "I tried to scream," she mumbled, looking back at Edward. "But I couldn't. I clawed at his hands, trying to get him off of me, but he was stronger than me."

"A coward picking on someone smaller than him," added Carlisle, finishing his drink. Pouring himself a fresh one, he looked back at Edward. "Want another?"

Shifting his eyes down to his glass, he realized he'd drunk it all. With a nod, he held the glass out, asking for another. He'd need it before the end of this conversation, that he had no doubts about.

He wasn't naive; he knew abuse existed, but he'd never been around someone who had lived through it. Taking another pull on his drink, he once again swallowed against the bile in his throat.

"Using one hand, he pulled me away from the wall, throwing me across the room. I hit a table, flipped over backward, and landed on the floor. I scrambled to my feet, trying to run and hide, but before I could take more than two steps, he'd gripped my hair, yanking me back again. I fell to the floor, trying to be strong and not cry." Rubbing her hand over her eyes, she paused. "Crying always made it worse. Not that anything made it better."

She finished off her second drink, sliding it over to Carlisle. Without a word, he filled it. "He ripped his belt out of his pants, wrapping it around his hand so the buckle hung down. He always wore a huge belt buckle, too. Had to make sure it hurt. He started swinging, hitting my arms and legs. I curled up on my side, trying to keep my head covered. I lost count of how many times he hit me with that thing; dozens, maybe even a hundred. He called me everything you can think of, accusing me of costing him one of his best customers. I'd learned a long time ago you didn't argue with him."

Shaking off the eerie chill creeping up her spine, she rambled on, "Tossing the belt aside, he grabbed me by the hair again, dragging me across the room. Lifting my body, he slammed me down on the bar. He grabbed a beer bottle, smashing it just over my head. Looking me right in the eye, he yanked my shirt up. He'd just started slicing my stomach open when Carlisle pulled him off me." Letting a faint smile slip up her face, she looked over at him. "Just in time."

Shaking his head, Carlisle replied, "I was years too late." He shifted his eyes over to Edward. "I had to go back — for her and for Esme. Bella is the only family I have left. I know I failed her, but I'm trying to make it right."

"Nothing can make you leaving her alone, okay," Edward spat.

"I know," he muttered, gripping his glass tighter. "Don't worry, I know."

"When I looked over, I saw Carlisle and my father fighting." Bella moved over, slipping her arm in with Carlisle's, trying to soothe him. "I managed to climb off the bar and make it to the phone, where I called 911. But before I could tell them anything, my father grabbed another beer bottle, holding it to Carlisle's throat. Without thinking, I reached under the bar where he kept his pistol and fired once, hitting him in his left shoulder."

Flinching, the echoing gunshots rang inside her head. "Slamming Carlisle back onto the ground, he turned back to me, that damn smug look on his face. He said 'Come on, princess, give Daddy back his gun. There's a bullet in there with your fucking name on it.' I told him to stop moving, but he kept coming. I screamed for him to stop, but he didn't. He reached out for me, and I pulled the trigger again and again until all I heard were the clicks from an empty barrel." Weeping softly, Bella buried her face in Carlisle's chest.

"He dropped to his knees, laughing," she went on. "I slid to the floor, still holding that gun in my hands. Carlisle scrambled over to me, holding me until the police arrived. Not even they could deny the truth lying right in front of them.

They sent me to the hospital, where I got thirty stitches in my stomach, had two cracked ribs, and bruises covering seventy percent of my body. Nobody wanted to believe that good ole Charlie Swan would dare abuse his daughter. We left town that night," Bella explained, looking over at Edward. "Carlisle brought me here. I healed from my injuries, started college, tried to be normal, but that's not really working out for me."

"I don't know what to say," admitted Edward, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't feel sorry for me," she spat. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"I don't feel sorry for you," he insisted. Bella raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, I do, but only because I wish I could have protected you. I would have."

"Why?" she wondered.

"Because . . . I care about you," he mumbled, looking at the floor.

Clearing his throat, Carlisle drew their attention back to him. "Think it's time for me to head home." Looking over at Edward, he eyed his empty glass. "You okay to drive?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

Turning back to Bella, he leaned in and kissed the top of her head. "Proud of you, sugar. I know it's not easy."

"No, it's not," she agreed. "I'll lock up on our way out."

Carlisle left, heading up to his small, dank apartment above the bar. Bella turned back to Edward. She thought he would run once he knew the truth; any other guy would have been out the door long ago. She never thought he would come and attack Carlisle, blaming him for everything. Maybe she should have expected him to stick around. From what she could tell, Edward wasn't like other guys.

"We should head out," Bella suggested, gathering their glasses and setting them in the sink.

She reached for the bottle of whiskey, but Edward reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him. Laying her head on his chest, she sighed when she felt his arm slip around her waist.

"Does this mean you still want to see me?"

"Of course I do," he replied. "I just wish I could have stopped him before you went through so much."

"Me too," she whispered. "I know you're mad at Carlisle; I get it. But he's the only person I have now."

"That's not true." Tilting her head back, Edward leaned down and kissed her. "You have me now, too."

"I do?" She smiled, blushing.

"Yeah, baby." Leaning down again, he brushed his lips against hers. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"My car is at the bistro," she giggled, slipping her hands into his.

He laughed. "We'll get it tomorrow. After I take you to lunch, of course."

"Deal," she agreed, pulling on his hands. "And thanks."

"For what?" he questioned.

"Not leaving," she mumbled. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Edward."

Ignoring the stabbing pain of guilt, he let her lead him out of R and back into his truck. He kept his arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her tight.

He meant what he said; she had him in every way she wanted. In a few short weeks, he'd fallen in love with her. Being discreet, he reached up, brushing a tear off his cheek.

If only he had more time.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews. And a huge thank you to Sunflower Fran for cleaning up my mess.