A/N: Thank you to anyone who has been reading, following or reviewing. All of your feedback is really appriciated. Sorry if I don't respond to comments correctly, or at all. I'm ashamed to admit I'm not sure how to use a lot of the functions on here (even though I've been a ghost on this site for years.) It looks like when I reply it goes directly to DMs? Either way, know that you are all greatly appreciated and I'm really excited to put a chapter out every week and read your opinions. xx
UPDATE: There won't be an upload today, unfortunatley. Got a little busy over the holiday and had little time to edit. I'll have a chapter out next Monday at the latest. If I get more free time this weekend, I'll do a double update. Apologies.
Bella
Bella felt cold as the look on Lydia and Donovan's faces registered in her blurry eyes. There they sat, by the open window, shocked by her sudden barreling into their bedroom.
Tears streamed down Lydia's face, and Donovan hugged her loosely in groggy confusion, their small faces ghostly pale in the faint moonlight.
It was a scream that awoke Bella this time.
A high-pitched little girl's scream that made her jump out of her skin, then into her slippers and down the hall.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Bella asked, her voice full of confusion and fear.
She could hear Emmett's footsteps thudding up the stairs, and the creaking of Marnie's bedroom door, accompanied by a loud yawn.
"Bella? What happened?" Emmett asked, his deep baritone sluggish, worried.
"It's Lydia. She's okay, just shaken up by something" Her voice trailed off into a whisper as she stared at the young girl, adrenaline still making its course through her body. Lydia was sobbing, full-on crocodile tears rolling down her red, puffy cheeks.
"Mommy!" She cried out.
Emmett side-stepped Bella, rushing into the room to pull Lydia into his arms. He held her close, rubbing her back soothingly.
"It's ok, baby. Did you have a nightmare again?"
He and Bella shared a simultaneous look of concern.
Lydia was gasping, trying to calm herself down, her head hanging loosely on Emmett's shoulder.
"Daddy! Mo-" She wailed; uneven breaths stopped her in her tracks.
Bella sat on Donovan's bed, and he ran over for a hug, worried about the state of his big sister. A creaking of the floorboard made Bella jump slightly, but it was just Marnie shifting position at the door.
"Mommy w-was here! She came through t- through the window! But then she left!"
Her sobs picked up again. Bella put her hand over her chest, her other wrapped around Donnie tightly.
"Dear heart." Marnie crooned from the door, leaning into the doorframe.
Bella's chest constricted as an ache to comfort Lydia washed over her. She recognized that kind of longing all too well. How old had she been when her own mother left? Twelve?
Lydia had only been three years old.
"Baby, you just had a bad dream, ok? Mommy's in heaven, remember? I told you; she went to stay with the angels."
"No!" Lydia wailed, her voice high-pitched and defiant.
"Shhh, baby . . ." Emmett cooed. She cried into his shoulder, her breathing calming down slightly.
He gave Marnie and Bella a sympathetic yet assuring look. A look that said he would handle it, even if it didn't look like her could.
Emmett murmured sweetly in her ear; words illegible to Bella.
The only sounds in the bedroom for a few moments were Lydia's whimpers. Bella tucked Donovan back into bed.
"She'll be okay, don't worry," she whispered in his ear.
He nodded sleepily.
"Bella?" He asked, turning onto his side.
"Yes?" She replied, focused on wrapping his cowboy-covered bedsheets securely around him.
He leaned into her, whispering,
"Did my Mommy really come through the window like Liddy said?"
Bella froze and thought carefully about what to say, searching for the words from the back of her mind to the center.
She settled on a slow movement of her head, and lips pressed to his tiny forehead.
"Let's try to go back to bed," she said, rubbing one of his ears until his eyelids were hooded.
Emmett was still rocking Lydia, but now she hung limp; half-asleep.
Bella sighed and lifted herself slowly from Donovan's bed. She stared at them for a moment, Emmett and Lydia. If she hadn't been looking for it, she wouldn't see it.
But she was and she could.
Emmett's eyes were red-rimmed, his jaw tight.
As Emmett rocked Lydia, Bella thought of her mother—how she'd vanished one morning without a trace. Four years gone, leaving Emmett to piece together a life for his children alone. She felt the weight of it, the silent grief that lingered in the walls of their home.
There had to be parts of all three of them that were broken beyond repair, held together by only each other.
When the kids were soundly asleep, Bella and Emmett slowly and carefully walked back into the hallway, stepping over blocks, books, and Barbies. Emmett shut the door behind them.
"Did you close the window?" Bella whispered.
Emmett just nodded, rubbing one of his big hands across his face. He looked so tired.
"Damn. Sorry about all that." He muttered.
Bella gave him a pointed look, eyes wide.
"Don't be ridiculous. What is there to be sorry for?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I—She hasn't had a nightmare that bad in a while. At least a year."
He stated, changing the subject. Bella shifted her weight, propping her hand on her hip.
"Yeah . . ." she said, voice commiserating.
"Maybe it's time to put a lock on the window." She says, cautiously.
They exchanged a look—heavy, unspoken things that neither of us knew how to address.
"Yeah. Probably." He says,
Bella rubs her arms. There's an odd chill in the air around them. Marnie's soft snores from across the hall only make Bella feel more exhausted.
"We should get some sleep." He suggests, yawning and shuffling his feet. Bella smiles tightly, pulling her robe closer.
"Yeah, we definitely should."
Emmett clambers back down the stairs, though; shoulders slumped. Away from his bedroom, away from everyone.
Bella stays by the kid's door, taking in the moment.
She only moves when she hears Mr. McCarthy's office door shut, and even then, her movements are unsure. She shuffles towards her bedroom, stops, looks back at the stairs, contemplates going for a drive; but agrees with herself that she's almost too tired to function.
Her bed welcomes her with open arms, and she falls into its warm embrace. Covers up to her nose, she can't help where her eyes land. That glaring light from the lamp post leaves a glow and sharp shadows about the room. But, before she can think of closing the blinds, she's already drifting off to sleep.