Chapter Ten

Holding her breath, Bella waited for Edward to say something, anything, but he didn't. Instead, he stood there, staring at her with his mouth agape and shock oozing off him. She should have expected him to react that way; he's just like every other guy out there. Ducking her eyes away from his, she pushed him away, hopping off the counter and running out of the kitchen. She'd been a fool for thinking he'd give her a chance.

"Bella, wait," he called, chasing after her.

The moment those words hit his ears, all he could think about were the sweet smiles and gentle kisses they'd shared. The simple ways she ran her delicate fingers over his chest, the soft giggles slipping out between her lips. How could she ever have killed anyone? She made it halfway through the dining room before he caught up to her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. She raised her hand on instinct, slapping him across the face, sending a loud, echoing smack throughout the room.

"Goddamn it, Bella," he yelled, letting her go and grabbing his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she fretted, reaching out for him, but pulled her hand back to her body.

"It's fine," he assured her, taking her hand in his. "Please, don't leave."

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she closed her eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of tears from falling. The only other person she'd told about her father was Alice, and only after suffering a series of night terrors that pushed her over the edge of insanity. Knowing how Alice struggled to deal with everything, Bella knew there would be no way Edward would ever understand. She'd expected this all along.

"Bella, look at me," he begged. Opening her eyes, she felt her tears start pouring. "Talk to me."

"You won't want me when you hear everything," she cried, reaching up and fisting his T-shirt. "You'll leave me."

"No, no, I won't," he lied, guilt eating at him for making a promise he knew he'd never be able to keep. Falling into his arms, she began weeping, allowing years' worth of grief to pour off her. Scooping her into his arms, Edward headed back through the kitchen, heading straight into his office. Setting her on his small, black leather sofa, he sat next to her, keeping his arm around her. The need to take care of her and keep her safe scared him. He'd never felt anything like this before.

"Baby, talk to me," he whispered, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

"When I was little, I thought my father could do no wrong, but when I got older, I saw his true nature; an evil monster. I'd just turned six the first time he hit me, or at least the first time I remember him hitting me. He told me to clean my room, but I didn't. Instead, I spent the day playing with my Barbies. In a heartbeat, he was on me, pinning my tiny body against the wall. Ranting and raving, he called me worthless. I never saw his hand coming until it connected to the side of my head. I remember screaming, begging for him to stop, but he didn't. Over and over, he hit me.

"As quick as he started, he stopped. I lay on the floor, a sobbing mess. My father, who'd called me his princess for as long as I could remember, had beaten me. Without a word, he picked me up and put me in bed, tucking the blankets over me. He kissed my tear-stained cheek and left me alone like nothing had happened. The next morning, when I woke up, I had bruises on my arms and legs, but he never acknowledged what he had done. I didn't either, not really. We fell back into the same routine we always had until he got upset with me again. One time turned into two, and before I knew what had happened, he started beating me almost every day."

Trying to bite back the urge to ask, Edward failed when his lips parted, and the question tumbled out, "Did you ever tell anyone?"

"Nobody would have believed me." She frowned. "Kind of cliché, I suppose, but everyone considered him to be an upstanding member of society. He held a seat on the city's Chamber of Commerce, ran a profitable business, and supported the community. Why would he ever abuse his only child?" she spat, anger filling her. "They didn't want to see what was painfully clear right in front of them. My teachers at school saw the bruises even asking why I kept falling all the time. Like any child is that clumsy."

Standing, she began pacing back and forth. "But then, he made his fatal mistake." She looked at Edward. "He killed Carlisle's wife, Esme."

"What?" gasped Edward, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. "How did he get away with murder?"

"Because without a body, they couldn't prove anything," she scoffed. "The police said she must have just left town, trying to get away from Carlisle. But she didn't."

"How do you know?"

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her eyes to him. "Because I saw him kill her."

Once again, shock sprang up over Edward's face. Dropping her eyes, she went on. "My father and Esme were having an affair. When she tried to break it off, he flew off in a jealous rage, beating her to death with his bare hands. He ground her body up in his woodchipper, leaving no trace behind. Carlisle immediately knew something had happened, but when he confronted my father, he made it clear he'd kill me before the police ever put anything together. Carlisle knew everything but, like me, understood that no one would believe us if we accused him of her murder or of abusing me. Instead of fighting, Carlisle left."

"That son of a bitch left you alone with him," hissed Edward, springing to his feet. Bella nodded. Clenching his jaw together, Edward brushed past her, throwing the door open and storming out of the room. Scrambling after him, Bella heard him muttering under his breath but couldn't make out what he said. She called for him to stop, but he didn't. All he could think about was how Carlisle should have taken her away from that monster.

—WSHB—

Carlisle pulled the last two bottles of beer from the cardboard box at his feet, kicking it to the side. Sliding the two beers into the red and white metal box, he pulled the lid over, covering it for the night. He'd just secured the lock on the side when he heard the back door to the bar fly open. Rushing through to the back, he barely had time to notice Bella chasing after Edward before the younger man slammed his fist into his left eye.

"Motherfucker!" Carlisle roared, stumbling backward.

"Edward!" shrieked Bella, rushing to Carlisle's side. "Stop it!"

"How can you stand there with him after he left you alone with your father?" raged Edward, fists clenched at his sides.

"You don't know a goddamn thing," Carlisle muttered, shrugging Bella off him. His instinct was to hit Edward and teach him about making assumptions, but he didn't. He wouldn't, because even though his eye throbbed and anger soared through him, he could see the boy cared for Bella, and she felt the same way for him.

"You think it was easy leaving her there with him? It wasn't, but I didn't have a choice."

"You had a choice," snarled Edward. "She needed you, and you abandoned her."

"Don't you think I know that!" Carlisle yelled, throwing his arms up. "I let her down. She needed me, but I was too much of a dick to put her before myself, but I can't change that."

"Carlisle, we've been through this," Bella muttered, placing a calming hand on his chest. "Besides, you came back."

"But I shouldn't have left you alone with him," Carlisle griped, covering her hand with his. Letting his eyes close, he directed his words to Edward. "I planned on taking her with me. We had everything packed, but before we could leave, he came home. He . . ." Letting his words die off, Carlisle looked over at Edward. "He would have killed her and set me up for both her death and the death of my wife."

Moving over to the freezer, he grabbed a handful of ice out, tossing them in the middle of one of his dishtowels. Lifting it to his swollen eye, he leaned against the counter. "I should have just taken the chance, but I was selfish, I admit it. I'm assuming she told you about my wife?" Edward nodded. "Esme was my world. Losing her hurt so bad. I should have been a better husband; then maybe she wouldn't have fallen into his bed. But we were trying to work on our marriage, fix everything. He took all of that away from me. Bella was all I had left, Edward, and I should have done more for her."

"Yeah," Edward agreed.

"You did what you had to, Carlisle." Bella turned to Edward. "You don't understand. My father had control of everything and everybody. Carlisle never would have stood a chance to clear his name before they had him strung up on the nearest tree."

"He still left you," groused Edward, running his hands through his hair. "I wouldn't have."

A faint blush crept up on Bella's cheeks, and somehow, she knew his words were truthful. "But he came back for me."

"Almost too late," mumbled Carlisle, shaking his head.

"But you weren't, and that's all that matters." Bella tried to reassure him. They've had this conversation more than a dozen times. He bore the guilt for not protecting her; she knew it wouldn't have made a difference. Her father would have found her one way or another.

"Too late for what?" Edward spoke his words cautiously, fearing the explanation he would receive.

Shifting her eyes to him, Bella's lips dropped into a frown. Reaching down to the hem of her shirt, she pulled it up, exposing a long, jagged scar just above her naval. "Almost too late to stop my father from killing me."

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