A/N- This chapter contains physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, as well as some slight self harm (not the traditional kind, but I still wanted to warn about it). Please consider this when deciding to read. If it could be too much for you, message me and I can give you the trigger-free (hopefully) rundown.
This chapter was once again Beta'd by Dollybigmomma, who helps to make sure my rambling is usually able to be understood, thank you.
It seems you guys are fine with me posting whenever I can, but I will still aim for once a week. I appreciate every bit of interaction I get from this story, so thank you very much! Now on with the story.
Bella
Bella was thirteen. She had gone to a middle school dance. She wore her friend Brianna's dress, and she had given her lip gloss. The plan was to tell Phil and her mom that she was going to her friend's house for a sleepover, and then just not mention the dance. Phil had hit her the day before, not a new occurrence, but new enough that he was in the kind phase, where he loosened the reins a bit more and let her do things that hadn't even been a question before. It had been a long time since he'd let Bella leave the house overnight. She hadn't dared to rebel for a while now, but something inside of her was begging to go, to break the rules and be around kids her age when they weren't just sitting in a classroom.
There was a type of thrill when it came to doing something she wasn't supposed to do. A thrill that had long since gone silent. Whether it was sneaking a snack from the pantry, staying up too late, or talking to boys in school when she knew Phil didn't like it. It was always something small, and always something she knew wouldn't get back to her mom and Phil, but there was a kind of satisfaction in it.
Charlie had called it her rebellious phase, back when she spent summers with him. Back then, the only rebelling she did was not wearing shoes outside, coming home a little late, or wrecking her clothes by spending all day outside with her friends, shouting and whooping with the joy only a child could feel. He never tried to curb it, instead letting her run wild all summer. He said it was healthy for a child to have that kind of spirit.
Bella guessed he didn't know she would turn into this.
At the dance with a group of girls, they were shy, barely able to look at their crushes without blushing and looking away. Eventually, the guy she liked, Ted, came up to her and started talking. Before too long, they went back to hanging out with their separate friend groups.
It was coming down to the end of the night, and when she and Brianna were heading towards the parking lot to wait for her mom, Ted called Bella over. He pulled her aside and asked if she would be his girlfriend. Of course, at the time, having a boyfriend or girlfriend just meant holding hands in the halls, but it was exciting. Someone liked her, someone she liked, too.
But at that moment, there was the sound of a car horn. Bella turned, but she couldn't make out the car, the headlights were too bright.
"Isabella?" Phil roared. She was in a spaghetti strap dress, a cool breeze keeping a steady supply of goosebumps across her shoulders and arms, but she could feel overwhelming heat building. Her heart had fallen, and her hands were immediately clammy. How had he found her? They were expecting her the next morning, not tonight! Had something happened? Something with her mom?
Bella rushed away from Ted, his question going unanswered. Phil didn't want to make a scene, but when she got to him, he quietly hissed at her, "You're a liar, Isabella. It seems like im going to have to teach you the consequences of lying and acting like a whore.."
Phil made Bella get in his car, and they followed Brianna and her mom back to their house, where Bella collected her overnight bag and changed back into her baggy clothes. On the drive back to their house, Phil spoke too calmly, too cool. He said that Renee had been called in to a work emergency, and he decided to check up on Bella . When she wasn't at Brianna's house, he came after her.
When they arrived at the house, he told her to go to her room and wait for him. She didn't say anything. She'd learned from her mom that talking back to Phil led to bad things, worse things.
Bella went to her room, closing the door quietly behind her.
He let her stew for a while. She could hear him in the living room. She expected him to be crashing around out there, but it was quiet. All she could hear was the sounds of a baseball game on the TV, which had been playing when they got home.
What felt like an hour later, the TV turned off. Slow, daunting steps approached her room. Without knocking, Phil opened her door, closing it behind him much like she had done.
"Isabella, today you lied. You disobeyed me, and your mother. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Bella stared down at her hands in her lap, nervously wiping the forming sweat on her pants. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
Bella's head snapped to the side before a stinging erupted in her cheek. Phil had slapped her, harder than he had hit her before.
"You're lying again, Isabella. You knew exactly what you were doing." she rubbed her cheek, tears forming in her eyes, and she said nothing.
"You were dressed like a whore, a cheap whore. Did you do that on purpose? You wanted to look like a slut for that boy you were with?" Bella was terrified. He hadn't talked about her like this, not this explicitly, only ever about Renee. And he was drunk now. She could hear his words all mushed up in that slimy mouth of his.
"Take off your shirt, Isabella," he commanded, and her eyes went wide. "Oh, come on, don't get modest on me now. I know you liked how that boy looked at you." She didn't move, and he slapped her again. "NOW!"
Bella's hands trembled as she took off her shirt. She felt hot tears fill her eyes, and she tried to keep them from spilling over. Her mom had Bella in training bras, but she felt entirely naked. She held her bunched-up shirt in front of herself nervously. She hated the locker room before gym class, when it was all girls, all her age, but now?
"Oh, you're embarrassed now? But not in front of that little boy you were with?" Phil lunged forward, his hand gripping her wrist and yanking her hand away, the shirt falling to the floor. He was squeezing her wrist so hard Bella thought it was going to snap. She said nothing and worked harder to keep the tears at bay, he always got satisfaction when her mom cried, and Bella didn't want to give it to him now.
"Isabella, you're a teenager now, and apparently you think that means you can do whatever you want. You can't."
Bella shook her head. "No, Phil, I promise, I don't. I don't know what I was thinking." She felt desperate. She'd gotten talks like this from him before, but it was different now. Renee wasn't here. Normally, it was spread out between the two of them, his vitriol. But now, it was all on her alone, no one else to distract him, or take away some of his attention.
"We've talked about this before, Isabella. You know that boys only want to get you alone for one reason. It seems you've forgotten, but I'll give you a reminder." He paused for a moment, and she stupidly dared to think he would be done with her. Of course, he wasn't.
"You know what he was thinking and what all the boys were thinking? They were thinking that they were about to get lucky. Because you see, Isabella, now that you're getting older, they're ready to do to you what they've been wanting to do this whole time. It's the only reason boys have ever wanted to be alone with you. Other girls are pretty, other girls are smart, other girls have something else to offer, but there's only one thing they'll ever want from you, Isabella. I haven't ever told you exactly what they wanted. I've hinted, and I've warned, but I think it's time for you to see…"
…
Bella woke up with a gasp, not fully comprehending what was going on. She was in her room, the one in Forks. Her heart was pounding in her chest, like she had just been running a marathon.
Or running from a predator.
Her sheets were damp with her perspiration, and when she caught a view of her hair in the mirror, she knew she had been thrashing. Those dreams always did that to her. Even with time and distance, Bella's body had a pure panic reaction. She had panicked the first few times, but eventually, she had learned that only made it worse. Still, in her dreams, she reacted.
Phil had decided after that night that she needed to learn that one lesson again and again. Over the years, he had found excuses to go over it repeatedly. When a boy called the house, gave her a ride from school, or even had a conversation with her, Phil somehow always found out. He would always remind her that boys were only being nice because they wanted something. They were only tolerating her, so they could get in her pants. They were only tricking her, so they could hurt her and use her.
But there was another benefit to his lessons, he had told her, after that first time. Men especially wanted girls untouched. By sullying her, he was protecting her. Bella knew how important it was to keep men away, and the more he did it to her, the more the other men wouldn't want her.
Before too long, she would avoid boys and men like the plague. She wouldn't smile. She wouldn't be near a boy for too long, and never alone. When she was paired up in class with a boy, she would speak as little as possible, and only ever about the subject. Sometimes, Phil would give her another reminder, just to make sure she never forgot. But Bella never could. Knowing that was what was behind all the passed notes in school, the crushes, the flirting, it nearly made her sick. She didn't know why other girls kept having crushes and smiling at boys, but if they were too stupid to protect themselves, she wouldn't make it her responsibility.
Bella wasn't naive. She knew Phil wasn't giving her these lessons out of the goodness of his heart, she knew he was doing it for his own enjoyment as well. The message was received all the same: men did only want one thing, Phil included. If this was what he would do to her, what would a stranger do? He told her that strangers wouldn't be able to draw a line and stop themselves. That if they saw the real her, they would kill her, they wouldn't be able to help it. The only man in her life who hadn't hurt her yet was Charlie.
He was her dad, her real father, and she used to love and trust him completely. He had never done the things Phil had done, even when Bella was bad. Phil promised her, though, that it was only a matter of time.
She couldn't entirely tell herself it was a lie. She had also loved and trusted Phil at one point. He had been her dad once too.
…
After calming her racing heart by taking slow, deep breaths, Bella got up and went to the bathroom. She didn't turn on the light, instead letting the muted glow from the small window illuminate the room. She didn't want to see herself. Phil said with enough of his lessons, men would want her less, that they would be able to sense him on her. Bella felt like her body wasn't her own, that it was disgusting and used, and it belonged to Phil. With every mark on her body, he claimed her. With every finger Phil laid on her, he called Bella his. And though it felt to Bella like he owned her entirely, he said she was still at risk.
The memories of the night before were compounded by her thoughts, and she reflexively turned to the toilet to throw up the little food she had in her system. It was familiar by now, though it didn't make the violent spasms any easier. When she was done, and there was nothing left but stomach acid, she thought to herself wryly that Phil didn't need to remind her to stay as small as possible when he was affecting her the way he was, even from afar. It hadn't been safe to even appear sick in Phoenix, and the growing anticipation she was facing in Forks meant her stomach never quite settled.
Bella got back up shakily and stripped, keeping her eyes closed and her back to the mirror. As she stepped into the shower, she found the temperature warm, but not nearly warm enough. She turned it to nearly scalding and just stood under the water for a moment. As she felt the water rush over her, she imagined it burning off Phil's touch, setting fire to every part of her he had ever sullied, ever effected, leaving only fresh and clean skin in its wake.
It was a great thing to imagine, but she knew his touch had gone too deep. He'd been in her life for nearly a decade, he was too ingrained in her. She grabbed her loofa and quickly pumped soap onto it. She began scrubbing her body hard, trying to work her way through every layer that contained Phil, that had ever been touched by him.
It felt impossible that Phil could do everything he did, everything he said she deserved, and Bella still wasn't safe. It just wasn't fair. That thought alone made her scoff out loud. She hadn't even needed Phil to give her lessons about fairness, she'd figured it out on her own that life wasn't fair. It wasn't fair when her parents had split up, and Bella was forced to leave everything she knew behind. It wasnt fair when she got such limited time with her father and the forests that she loved. It wasn't fair when her only friends had faded away, slowly forgetting about her. And it wasn't fair now that Bella had forgotten about herself.
Bella wished she could scrub to her core, so the part that made her wicked, the part that made her deserve it all would have a chance at being cleansed. If only she could scrub it away, she could live like a normal girl, a girl who didn't have to live in fear of a man being near and taking his rage out on her. She could talk to her old friends; she could be good enough to be worthy of their friendship. If she didn't have that evil inside of her, she could be a good girl, and it would be real, she would really and truly be doing good.
She scrubbed her body until it was raw and red, and the water began to run cold. In her scrubbing mania, she couldn't tell how long she had been in the shower. She hadn't checked the clock when she woke up either, so there was no real way to measure her frenzy.
Turning off the water, she stayed in the shower a moment longer, trying to gather all the thoughts she had let run free. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself quickly, trying to see as little of Phil's work as possible. In the briefest of flashes, all she saw was the fresh layer of skin, irritated and raw. Despite the tenderness of it, a small part of her felt satisfied. Even if it was only a layer or two of Phil gone, it was still gone. Even if it was only temporary, there was a fraction less of Phil on her. She didn't know how long the extra bit of Bella would last before being taken over by Charlie, or Phil again, or some other man, but for now, she felt some relief.
Bella didn't know if it would take away from the ruin Phil said would protect her, but she found it hard to care. She was conflicted. She wanted to be good, she wanted to avoid tempting or hurting anyone else, but she found it harder and harder to live how she had been living for the past few years.
When she got back to her room, she dressed quickly, occupying her mind with how to spend her Sunday. She wanted to spend it being good, or trying to be, anyway. Charlie was out of the house again, and she decided to use his absence to do laundry. She stripped her sheets and got Charlie's as well, taking them down to the washing machine, where she started the load.
Over the course of the day, Bella found herself floating through, not being present in her mind or her body. She didn't want to face all of the thoughts that had flooded her, the memories that came with. She was able to get every bit of dirty laundry in the house washed, dried, folded, and put in its rightful place. She searched for more to do, more good to be done, but she had already spent the day before cleaning.
Her homework had been finished, but she found herself going over it repeatedly, making sure she had made no mistakes. She studied the information nearly religiously, trying to ensure not a single letter would be forgotten.
Good girl echoed through her mind, usually a phrase that was a promise for peace, but now brought with it disgust and shame. At the very least, in this house, Bella could be good. She could serve her purpose, and she could avoid tempting anyone else. Anyone besides Charlie, anyway. She still couldn't entirely figure him out.
Charlie had yet to yell at her, beat her, or even get angry at her. He hadn't laid a single finger on her, outside of hugs, let alone taught her any lessons. He pretty much left her alone, and after years of Phil, it was such a relief to be left alone Though, it would be better if she didn't constantly worry about it all changing, but beggars couldn't be choosers, even if a small part of her wanted to beg and plead for him to just trip the act so she didn't have to stay on edge.
There was a small chime from her phone, and if Bella had been in front of a mirror, she knew she would have seen herself go green. Picking up her phone with a slow, controlled breath, she felt only a split second of relief when she saw it wasn't Phil or Renee or Charlie. Instead, it was Angela.
The somewhat friend was asking her about an assignment Bella had finished and gone over a dozen times. If Phil was checking her texts, it was innocent enough to not upset him. He had long since decided that her being entirely unattached was too suspicious, so he had allowed her to have acquaintances only, though she found herself altogether unsatisfied with that.
Bella texted Angela back, giving her a brief explanation on the assignment that Angela was confused about. She went back to the book she had been trying to occupy herself with, but Angela responded quickly, thanking her and trying to continue the conversation.
There was a moment when Bella let herself mourn the real friendship she would never get to have, craving the connection that normal girls got. In school, she could get away with more, but for now, when she was trying to be good, she ended the conversation, saying something about how she had a bunch of homework to get done.
After she sent off the text message, Bella set her phone down, promising herself that if she responded again, she wouldn't reply. Bella would be good, and part of being good was keeping her wickedness from spreading. While she flipped through the book, there was the smallest part of her mind that wondered: Was the price too high to pay, to be this good girl?