Lords of the Gangland by LeeCullen89 (chapters 1 - 19)

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5214617/1/

Chapter 1- Imprisonment

Throbbing pain, like my skull had been split open. Something cold and hard was
pressed against the side of my face. I slowly opened my eyes, but my vision was
blurred and I couldn't make out my surroundings clearly. Everything was dark, or
maybe darkened by my unreliable sight. I felt cold and wet, as if I were lying on
a puddle. My body felt heavy, unable to move. It was a struggle to keep my eyes
open.

I could hear footsteps hurriedly approaching. A door opened and closed. I could
see people approaching me, but only their legs and shoes. Was I really lying on
the ground? Where was I and what happened?

Someone was kneeling in front of me, a blurry face came inches from mine.

"Is she dead, mate? I told you to be careful with the broad, she's no good to
anyone dead." The voice that spoke was further away. The man near me
remained silent and was searching for something around the area of my neck.

"Damn it, I can't find a pulse."

A pulse? Is that what he was searching for? Of course I had a pulse! I was not
dead! But I couldn't open my mouth to let them know. I couldn't scream or move
or give any sign that I was alive.

More footsteps were approaching, more people entered the room.

"Pick her up." A male, deep voice firmly instructed.

"I don't think she's going to make it, boss. She took a nasty beating, and that
last blow to the head looks pretty bad," the man still kneeling next to me replied.

"Did I ask you how she's doing? I can see her. And you better pray she doesn't
die, or you'll be visiting the bottom of the Chicago River."

I felt several sets of hands lifting me up from the ground. I still couldn't move but
the pain in my head grew worse than ever. I wanted to scream in pain. I began
hoping I would die. The pain was surreal, cut through everything, took over
everything. I heard my own ragged breathing and my eyes became watery,
making my vision even more obstructed.

My lids grew heavy and it was becoming impossible to keep them open. I couldn't
see anyway, so I saw no point in struggling with the inevitable. I knew if I fell
into unconsciousness I may never wake up again, but anything, anything was
better than enduring this pain any longer.

I succumbed to the blackness, the silence, and the unknown.

I didn't die, or at least I don't think I did. I pulled in and out of consciousness for
what could have been days. I saw people looking after me, trying to repair
whatever damage was done to me. I felt whenever needles poked my arm, or a
sharp light was directed to my eyes, or when the wounds in my head were being

sutured. The pain came and went, along with this feeling of either blissful
weightlessness or immobilizing heaviness. I actually enjoyed them both; it's the
pain I didn't care for.

I dreamt about my life. Recollections of my childhood, adolescence and beyond
flashed through my mind. I dreamt about the day I left home for college, last
time I ever saw my father. It was a horrible last encounter, such deep, wounding
words echoing through the high ceilings of my then home. I loved my father, but
ever since I can remember, I had known he was unlike other dads.

I was brought up like a princess. My mother had died giving birth to me and my
father had never remarried, never gotten over his one true love. Instead, he had
directed all that love to his only daughter, his only child, and had showered me
with gifts and affection. I had everything my heart desired.

I went to the most prestigious private school. A Dutch nanny slept in my bedroom
until the age of twelve. I had a pony for my eleventh birthday and a purebred
only three years later, nothing was ever denied to me. I simply became
accustomed to having a driver at my disposal, spending summers at the family
villa in Tuscany, weekends in Paris for me and my friends, trips to London simply
to attend a play or concert my father fancied.

But all along I had known something was wrong, people simply treated me
differently, and there was always a lingering fear behind their kindness. By the
time I was fourteen I had started to pay attention to the rumours, to the
whispered gossip between the help, to my father's strange midnight meetings in
his study.

It is a hard truth to face when you realize the father you cherish is everything
you've ever thought was wrong with human kind. He was a real lord of the
underworld, a man so perverse and powerful he was above the law. And so I saw
no alternative but to get away, to part from my father and everything he
represented.

But getting away was no easy feat, so the plan was to leave for college and leave
this life behind, give up my family name and birthright. Give everything up for a
life away from such violence and vice.

My dad had not taken the news well, and this last encounter is what I envisioned
in my dream, the dream that seemed to replay every time I succumbed to sleep.
I saw my father torn between rage and sorrow, my nana Helga weeping silently,
the help gathered by the stairwell frightened by the scene before them.

I had packed only what essentials I needed. I left my jewellery behind, taking
only my mother's locket which hung from my neck on a white gold chain. My
father alternated between pleading and threatening me. Neither worked.

My last words were final: "If you want me to stay, Father, you'll have to kill me-
or rather have one of your men do it, since I know you'd never dirty your hands
with blood."

Dartmouth had become my new home and life. I studied Philosophy and then
earned a Master's in Ancient Languages. I took a teaching position even before
my Masters was over. I was one of the youngest teachers there, and I loved my
relatively simple life. My salary was reasonable but afforded nothing near to the
lifestyle I had been brought up in. I loved it. I had a small flat near the campus, a
lovable dog that kept me company and a couple of close friends to have the
occasional drink with.

I had had two short-term love affairs that ended badly: the first one because of
youthful impetuousness and the second because someone had forgotten to
mention they were married. Not me. So men had taken a backseat in my life.
Something that was perfectly fine by me for the time being. Like I said, I had a
dog.

"Can you open your eyes?" Another flashlight was pointing my eyes. I was not
sure if this wasn't simply part of another dream. The male voice asking the
question was unfamiliar, but the kindness behind it was not lost on me. I tried to
answer, but my mouth felt dry and I could hardly open it.

"So what's the verdict, doc?" This other voice triggered a memory in me, but I
couldn't place it. It was a beautiful voice, masculine, flowed with a softness that
was almost musical, but I could still detect absolute control behind it. I realized I
was lying on a bed, not my own. I could see two figures standing by it.

I blinked my eyes several times hoping to attain better focus. The man holding
the flashlight was an elderly chap with a worn, kind face. The second man,
standing further down the bed, was much younger. They both wore dark suits. I
recognize neither.

"Sweetheart, can you understand me?" I looked back at the older man who I
guessed was the doctor. I think I managed a small nod in confirmation.

"Can you talk to us?" he inquired further, the kindness and patience still there. I
cleared my throat several times in an attempt to speak.

"Mmm.. ma.. may I have some water, please?" My voice was low and hoarse, but
it's the best I could manage.

A nurse I had not noticed before lifted my head from the pillows, and held a glass
of water to my lips. I took a couple of sips. The water felt like scorching lava
sliding down my throat, but it helped a bit with the dryness.

"Can you tell us your name, sweetheart?"

"Isabella." I could manage no more than my first name.

"Good. Go back to sleep now, Isabella. Everything will be all right." There was a
faint smile sketched on his face. He looked a bit younger when he smiled.

I closed my eyes gratefully. The last thing I heard was the doctor telling the other
man there was no apparent brain damage, and that in a couple more days I
should be able to walk again. I should have been terrified, how did I undergo
such severe wounds? But I felt too numb and heavy to care for now.

I apparently still knew my name, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what
happened or how I came to be here. The dreams were claiming me once more,
and I didn't have the strength to refuse them any longer. Oblivion was too
tempting.

Chapter 2- Awakenings

I tried to stretch my legs but there was something heavy stopping me. I pushed
as hard as I could and realized was not only heavy, but also warm and moving in
reaction to my pushing. The mattress shook a bit from something moving up in
my direction, and then I felt warm breath and moistness on my face.

I opened my eyes and was met with two dark, kind, and drooping eyes. Robbie.

"Hey, boy," I huskily said. My big and very concerned dog happily waved his tail
and started sniffing me all over. He pushed the side of my face with his head in
an attempt to earn a good patting, which I was happy to oblige and get him to
stop shoving me. My head was still killing me, but still filled with questions. How
did Robbie get here? Where exactly was I?

Robbie is a brown bloodhound I got during my senior year at Dartmouth; he was
now well into the senior years himself. And he was more than a pet: I'm
convinced we are soul mates.

With some effort, I pulled myself up to a sitting position on the bed. My head was
throbbing. I scanned my surroundings. I was laying on a king size bed draped
with a beautiful, golden bedspread. The room itself was very large but
comfortable. The bed faced two tall windows overlooking the crests of densely
leaved trees. The day was cloudy so it was impossible to tell the time.

There was a double door on the wall to my left, and another single door just a
couple of feet behind the bed. I could only guess it was the bathroom. There was
a magnificent looking marble fireplace on the wall to my right, with handsome,
antique-looking sitting furniture facing it. An ornate crystal chandelier hung from
the high ceiling. The walls and ceiling were elaborately decorated with gold bas-
reliefs. The décor was lavish and eclectic.

Nothing was familiar, not even remotely. I was thinking it might be one of my
father's many houses, but I also thought it didn't seem his taste. The only thing I
was absolutely certain about was that my father has to be somehow involved.
Was I in an accident and he brought me here to nurse me back to health?

"Let's go take a look around, Robbie:" I gently shoved him off the bed and
pushed the covers away. I was wearing silk pajamas, pants and shirt. They were
very much my taste, but again, not my own. As I attempted to get up a sudden
sharp pain in my arm stopped me. There was an IV needle still wedged in there.

I took a deep breath and removed it as carefully as I could. I tried suppressing a
yelp of pain; I should have waited for someone else to do it. Blood spilled from
my arm to the bed sheets. I felt light-headed, the room spinning. The blood was
also making me slightly nauseous. I bent my arm to stop the bleeding and sat
holding it close to my body for a couple of minutes, trying to steady my breathing
and prevent myself from fainting.

I finally got up, and headed in the direction of the door which was closest to my
left- indeed a bathroom. I headed straight to the mirror over the sink. I was
shocked at my reflection. I've never looked this pale and thin, my face was skin
over bone. But the worst part was the nasty cut in my upper forehead; a good
five inches long, with red and purple bruising all around it. The stitching made it
look all the more serious and deep.

I rinsed the blood off my arm, and prevented any further bleeding with a Band-
Aid I find on one of the shelves. I looked around. I could see the room was well
equipped for a guest. Everything from perfumes to lotions, towels and robes,
were readily on hand for use. I was too happy to find a toothbrush and
toothpaste. I brushed my teeth slowly and clumsily. I felt so weak and not in full
reign of my body yet; it felt like every movement was a struggle.

I saw a silk robe hanging from the back of the door. I put it on and walked back
into the room.

"Come on, Robbie. Time to find out where the hell we are," I said weakly.

I opened the door to a corridor facing a grand marble stairwell. We seemed to be
on the second floor. But looking over the rail I confirmed we were actually on a
third. I could see people walking around hastily on every floor- service people in
uniforms. But nobody seemed to notice my presence.

I took a step to my right and come face to face with a man. He was huge, robust
and strong looking, maybe in his early fifties, and he had more hair on his face
than on his head.

"Miss Francon, good to see you are up." He smiled kindly, but coolly, at me.

"Where am I? Where is my father?" I asked politely, but firmly. I knew he must
be one of my father's men. I knew the look of paid assassins.

"Please follow me," he replied and turned in the direction of the stairs. I followed
behind him.

We got to the second floor and walked slowly down a very long hall leading up to
a set of double doors. We stopped just before them. I could hear people talking
on the other side.

The man leading turned around to face me. "Wait here, please, Miss Francon."
And he alone walked inside, opening and closing the door so fast I could hardly
get a glimpse inside.

There was silence and then more talking, a couple of seconds later, the doors
opened once more and half a dozen men in dark suits walked out. None of them
ventured so much as a glance in my direction. It's like I was not even there.
Robbie leaned against my legs and licked my hand affectionately.

The same man reappeared and beckoned for me to enter the room. As I passed
by him, he exited the room and quietly closed the door behind him. I stood there
alone with my dog. This room was a study, and at least twice the size of the room
where I woke in. A single long desk stood in front of the same tall windows from
my room. A man sat behind it but his chair was facing the window, so only the
top of his head was visible to me.

He turned the chair around, and I was shocked to find a man most obviously not
my father. He made a hand motion to which Robbie responded immediately and
happily walked over, and started licking his hand.

"Hello boy," his cool voice was filled with undeniable affection for my dog. They
seemed more than acquainted with one another, even when I was sure I didn't
know this man. He was the same man who stood standing by my bed the first
time I was awoke- that much I knew.

He was not yet thirty, I guessed a bit over mid twenties. He seemed tall and well
built, although slightly slim for his frame. His hands were long and beautiful, and
his unshaven face handsome almost to an absurd degree. His eyes were intense
and penetrating. I had to admit I felt intimidated by him. Something about him
seemed terribly dangerous.

I felt a twinge of jealousy over my dog being so friendly with a stranger, so
beckoned for him to return to my side, which I was happy to see he immediately
did.

The stranger took a deep breath and leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms
over his chest and swayed the chair from side to side. All the time he did not take
his eyes off me, he was looking me up and down with an expression in his face
that made me even more uneasy.

"Isabella Marie Francon, you are one hard woman to track down." His voice was
deep and low and he talked in an almost soothing manner.

I had changed my name to Isabella Swan years ago. I had never encountered
anyone who knew my real name until today. The fact that he knew was yet
another sign that my father was definitely involved.

"I didn't know anyone was looking for me," I said defensively.

"Well, I was," he replied. "And I guess your father is now too," and smiled in a
manner that reflected little happiness and much malice.

"Where is my father? And who are you?" My weakened state prevented me from
sounding as angry as I was becoming.

"Your father is in Rome, he had some business to attend to with the Pope. But
I'm sure he'll return as soon as news if his missing daughter reaches him. If it
hasn't already."

"What happened to me? Where am I? And who are you?" I asked for the second
time.

"You had your reservations about coming here, so my men had to persuade you
in a bit of a rough manner. They tell me you put up quite a fight. This is my
house and as for who I am, I'm your father's adversary, if you will." His voice
remained calm and even.

"I'd like to go home, immediately." He seemed amused by my commanding tone.

"I'm afraid that is an absolute impossibility." He rose from the chair and went to
the window behind him, his back now facing me.

"I demand to be allowed to leave this instant. I have a job and a life I need to get
back to. And whatever issues you have with my father, I recommend you settle
them between yourselves. I have nothing to do with him and haven't for over six
years, in case you didn't know."

"I am very aware of this estrangement you speak of, but that doesn't stop your
father from loving you, and that posses great value to me." He placed a hand on
the cool glass.

"Am I supposed to be some kind of bait?" The reality of the situation was slowly
dawning on me.

"No, more like blackmail," he answered. "If he'd like for his only daughter to keep
on breathing, he'll have to do as I say." He removed his hand from the window,
an outline of vapour remaining for an instance before disappearing.

This couldn't be happening. My head is hurting more than ever all of a sudden.
This man couldn't be serious, there had to be a logical explanation to all of this. I
was at a loss for words, what can one say in the face of such absurdity?

"You can be treated as a prisoner or as a guest. As a guest you'll be expected to
join me for supper every evening in the dinning room, and to be in my company
whenever I desire it. As a prisoner, you'll have to wonder which hour will be your

last, under very unpleasant circumstances. Either way, you are not to leave the
grounds of this house, you are to have no contact with the outside world. You'll
be observed but otherwise left alone. I suggest you behave accordingly, as you
bare witness, my men are not afraid to use force."

He turned around and walked towards me. I wanted get away but found myself
glued to the floor. He slowly caressed my face with the tips of his fingers, his
touch leaving a burning trail in their wake. It made me dizzy and sick all at once.

"Your mother's beauty was legendary," he murmured almost to himself. "It's a
fortune you took after her and not the toad that is your father."

I finally managed a step back to get away from his touch.

"Joseph!" he yelled, and the same man who brought me here walked into the
room.

"Take Miss Francon back to her room." He didn't take his eyes off me while
barking out instructions. "Have one of the maids tend to her, help her bathe and
clothe. She'll be joining me for supper this evening."

This Joseph person gently placed a hand on my back to lead me back to my
room. My eyes were still locked on my captor's. I felt such a broad range of
emotions: anger, bewilderment, shock, but mostly dread. I found myself in a sort
of daze. But I hadn't the strength to fight him right now, which added frustration
to my array of emotions. So I allowed Joseph to take me back to my room,
grateful to at least to be away from that cold and beautiful man.

Chapter 3- Recovery

It took me most of the afternoon to get ready for supper. Even when I at first
politely declined the maid's assistance, I had no choice but to accept it in the end.
I was still too weak and uneasy to do anything on my own, getting downright
dizzy a couple of times standing under the stream of water in the shower.

After what seemed like hours, I was finally clean and scrubbed and smelling of
lotion. I was dressed in black slacks and a white angora sweater that was doing a
terrific job at keeping me warm and snuggly. My hair smelled of lavender and
was casually pulled up in a ponytail. Mary was walking back and forth in the room
picking up items of discarded clothing and making sure everything was back in its
place. I sat on the bed, practically exhausted from what little activity I had
managed.

"Isabella, -"

"Bella," I corrected Mary before she could go on.

She smiled before continuing. "Bella, why don't you lie down and rest your eyes.
I'll let you know when you are expected downstairs."

Mary was an elderly and handsome woman, someone I guessed had certain
seniority around the house. Even Joseph seemed to have a deep respect for her
authority.

I obeyed immediately, thankful to take a nap. I motioned for Robbie to get up on
the bed with me, where he curled into a gigantic ball by my feet. I fell into a deep
sleep as soon as my head touched the plush pillow, but was awakened in what

seemed no more than a few minutes by Joseph politely clearing his throat to
announce it was supper time.

"Sorry, I fell asleep." I wanted to rub my eyes but remembered Mary applied
mascara and eye shadow. According to her, there was no reason for me to look
like the living dead.

"That's quite all right, Miss Francon. But it's now time to get down stairs."

Suddenly, I was questioning why exactly I needed to go downstairs and sit for
supper with a man who was keeping me hostage. "Joseph. May I call you
Joseph?" I asked weakly.

He smiled kindly, such proper behaviour for a crook's right hand man.
"Absolutely, Miss Francon."

"Then please call me Bella. Joseph, I don't think I'll be joining Mr.-", I realized I
couldn't continue since I didn't know the bastard's name, he never properly
introduced himself.

"Cullen, Mr. Edward Cullen."

"Thanks, Joseph. I don't think I'll be joining Mr. Cullen for dinner." I dropped back
down in a futile attempt to get my head to stop thumping.

"If I may, Bella," Joseph began hesitantly, "it wouldn't be especially smart to
displease Edward. Particularly not in the state you are in at the moment. Just
think of it as supper, some nourishment you've not had in weeks."

Weeks? How long was I out cold?

He read my face as clearly as if I had voiced my thoughts. "You were placed in an
artificial coma for almost two weeks. Your doctor was afraid you might have
sustained brain damage from that last blow to your head." I instinctively touched
my forehead where the sutures are; the skin around it feels raw and swollen.

I looked at Joseph who was now holding the door open waiting for me to exit the
room. I didn't see the point in arguing anymore- not with Joseph anyway. He,
after all, was only following orders.

We got downstairs and I couldn't help but admire the rest of the house. Every
room was stunning. We passed the entrance hall and headed for the dining room,
a splendid room overlooking the elaborate gardens. It was almost dark outside
now but exterior lighting illuminated a large portion of the estate.

Mr. Cullen was sitting at the head of the table waiting for us. There were only two
places set on the long wooden table, so I headed over to take the chair to his
right.

"Thank you Joseph, that will be all. Ernest is expecting you. Go take care of that
business, will you?" He dismissed Joseph with a hand gesture as he placed the
napkin on his lap. I did the same and rested my head against the tall back of the
chair, closing my eyes. I was lightheaded and in desperate need of returning to
bed.

"I'll see you in the morning, Edward. Good night, Bella." I wasn't expecting such
civility from Joseph in front of his boss, so all I managed was a stiff nod before he
turned around and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the empty house.

I looked around in search of Robbie, when I noticed that a doggie bed has been
placed by the window especially for him. Obviously, my gullible dog was used to
joining my captor in this room. I took a deep breath- this familiarity with my dog
was enraging me more by the second.

In my current state of weakness, I was not being particularly good at masking my
feelings, since for the second time this evening someone seems to be able to
read them clearly in my face.

"Would you rather I mistreated your dog?" he asked coldly.

"No, but you don't have to enjoy his company this much either." I said, looking
straight ahead. I didn't want to meet his eyes.

"He is a splendid dog, seemed to take a liking to me instantly."

"I should have taught him to be less trusting when it came to strangers." I
fleetingly wondered if it was a good idea to upset the man who was keeping me
captive, but I was too weak and upset to care.

Just then a young maid walked in carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of
soup. She placed them on our plates and left just as quietly as she entered. The
chicken broth smelled so good it made my stomach audibly growl. I suddenly
became painfully aware of how hungry I was.

"Doctor Melbourne recommends you stick to a bland diet for a couple of days
until you get some of your strength back and your stomach can take in solid
food." His words were cold and uncaring, making it clear he had no concerns over
my well being. I guess I was just worth more if mended.

I let out a deep breath and pressed circles with my index finger on my temple.
This headache was not going to leave any time soon, it seemed.

He didn't bother to speak to me for the reminder of the meal, so I didn't say
anything either. After we are finished I excused myself and went up to my room,
where Mary was waiting to help me into my nightclothes. I was thinking they may
have been wrong and I did in fact sustain some brain damage, since I simply
couldn't seem to be able to grasp the reality of things. I felt as if heavily sedated,
my body numb and stiff. I fell asleep in hopes it all turned out to be a nightmare
when I woke up.

But this wasn't a dream. And day after day I was confronted with the reality that
I was indeed a prisoner here. The house was a fortress, and even when it seemed
to be empty, watchmen and cameras were at every corner. There was no hope of
escape, and there seemed to be no phones or computers left unattended. Only
Mr. Cullen had the luxury of technology in his study, and I guessed he wasn't
going to share.

My health and strength improved vastly with each passing day. My injuries were
healing; even the deep cut in my head seemed to finally be on its way to
recovery. Dr. Melbourne was impressed with my fast recovery.

"You are a strong girl, Isabella," he'd say while patting me affectionately on the
cheek. Everyone was kind to me, but it was clear none of them was eager to help
me escape.

Strangely, I fell into a routine of sorts. I woke up early every morning, had
breakfast in my room and then headed down for the library where I'd spend
hours reading and looking over the thousands of books Mr. Cullen seemed to

collect compulsively. His library was impressive and probably worth more than
the works of art that hung on every wall of the manor. He had hand copied books
showcased in glass cabinets that most likely dated before the fifteenth century
and the printing press.

I would then have lunch in the greenhouse with Mary, and when the weather
allowed it, take a walk through the gardens. I'd visit the horses at the stables
during most afternoons and prepared myself for the inevitable dinner with Mr.
Cullen. He was a pleasant man to look at, although that's as far as the
pleasantries went.

Robbie never left my side, except to greet the monster who was holding us
hostage here. Most evenings, Mr. Cullen and I would sit there quietly, not even
looking at one another. I didn't really understand why he forced us to dine
together when he obviously had such little desire to engage in conversation.

There were a few exceptions when Mr. Cullen would inform me he was leaving
town for a couple of days or he'd ask me to remain in my room the following day
because certain visitors would be in the house. It was ridiculous he should
pretend to 'ask' since my bedroom would remain locked from the outside anyway.

I knew it was futile to waste time in anger or frustration over my state of
imprisonment. I was well acquainted with these sorts of people, having had the
experience of growing up with the worst among them. If they thought I was
behaving, they might drop their close watch on me and give me an opportunity to
escape. I knew the chance of that happening was slim, but I also knew that
giving Mr. Cullen any grief might end up in a very disagreeable way. For me.

I had to admit that even when I was being held here against my will, it was
almost endurable since I was left on my own and undisturbed.

Or so I thought…

Chapter 4- Trapped

"How is your head?"

I was so deep in thought that the question caught me off guard and forced me to
return to the here and now. Here being a prison in the shape of a splendid-
looking manor, and now being supper time with the green-eyed monster.

When did I notice his eyes are green?

"Headaches are further apart and rather mild now," I answered while drawing
circles in the mashed potatoes with my fork. I was not particularly hungry this
evening, and for some reason, I was feeling more anxious than usual. Him forcing
me to make conversation would certainly not improve my state of uneasiness.

"You seem almost fully recovered. The scar will hardly be visible in a couple of
weeks." I was not sure how to answer so I remained silent, eyes down on my
untouched food. I felt his gaze still set on me, but had no desire to turn my head
to acknowledge him.

"The cooking is not to your liking tonight?" he continued, his voice soft and calm.

"No. I mean, it is. I'm just not hungry." I blurted out. It was the truth though, I
simply couldn't bring myself to swallow anything tonight.

His staring was starting to unnerve me. It felt like he was trying to burn a hole
through me. He usually ignored my presence, something I was grateful for, but
tonight was not one of those merciful nights.

Before I could help myself, I turned my head to face him. He was leaning back in
a relaxed manner. His food ignored as well. His head slightly lowered and his
eyes dark and deep in thought. He was looking at me with such intensity my
breathing came to a halt. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

I hastily turned my eyes back to my plate. "May I be excused?" I asked quietly.

"Yes, you may. Go back to your room and wait for me there." And before I could
inquire, he rose from the chair and left the dining room, his tall and dark figure
walking slowly but steadily out of my sight.

What could he possibly want with me in my room?

An awful dread began to grow in the pit of my stomach. The one time I
remembered him in my room, I was still drifting in and out of consciousness. He
had not set foot in there since.

I wanted to run away but sat here, frozen. I told myself I had nothing to worry
about; he probably wanted to have another conversation about my father. It had
been a while since he mentioned him last, and I was sure he was anxious to start
with the negotiations.

Yes, that was the logical explanation. But then why couldn't I believe it? Why did
it still feel so very wrong?

This whole day had felt particularly odd. I felt the choking need to escape even
more intensely than usual, like I was running out of time. And that was even
before everyone around me started to behave so very strangely. They all looked
guilty. Something that would have been in par with holding someone hostage, but
an emotion they had not really shown before today.

Mary had been the worst among them. She managed to avoid me the whole day.
She didn't have lunch with me, and the only time I saw her was when she came
into my room to lay out the clothes I should wear for supper. She didn't stick
around to do my hair and makeup like she usually did. Every other day, I had
asked her not to dote on me; today, I desperately wanted her to stay.

I dressed and readied myself in a quiet room; quiet except for Robbie's gentle
snoring. Mary had taken out a simple yet elegant, sleeveless, black dress that
hung just under my knees, and a pair of unbelievably high-heeled, black suede
boots I wasn't sure I would not break a leg attempting to walk in them. A
beautiful pearl necklace that was wrapped closely around my neck completed the
ensemble.

Joseph had been another enigma. He never came to get me, and so twenty
minutes later than usual, I walked alone into the Dining Room where I
interrupted some argument between him and his boss. I never got the full story,
but Joseph was insisting on staying tonight, maintaining there were more urgent
matters they had to discuss. Mr. Cullen's cold stare finally forced him to leave.
But not before I noticed the pleading in Joseph's eyes.

The door to the kitchen swung open and Mary entered the Dining room where I
remained seated and staring into space. I knew it was her even before I felt a
trembling hand on my shoulder.

"Come now, dear. I'll walk you up to your room." I was surprised her voice was
even.

I got up and slowly followed Mary as if under a trance. I kept thinking there had
to be a way to avoid whatever was coming.

We reached the bedroom and Mary quietly closed the door behind us, then sat
me on the bed and placed both hands on either side of my face, forcing me to
look straight at her. For the first time all evening, I clearly saw the concern she'd
been trying to hide.

"Oh, sweet child, I was hoping he'd change his mind. He's been asking about your
health for days now, wanting to know if you were back to your strength. There is
no avoiding it, so stop trying to convince yourself there is a way out." She was
smoothing my hair back from my forehead, pushing a loose strand behind my
ear. "Listen, Bella, just let him get it over with. He will not hurt you unless you
fight, and I don't want to have to patch you up again, with such a pretty face as
yours."

I knew she was trying to sound mundane, like it was more important to preserve
my face than my dignity. But I knew she was truly afraid of what he might do to
me. I'm sure she knew the depths of that man's dark and merciless soul better
than I did. Her caring behavior was almost maternal. I felt sorry for her, when I
should have felt sorry for myself.

The door opened then, making Mary jolt in surprise.

"Please leave us, Mary," Edward coolly said while holding the door open for Mary
to leave.

"Yes, Sir." She lightly kissed the top of my head before leaving.

Mr. Cullen closed the door behind Mary and walked over to the sitting area.
Taking off his jacket, he placed it on the back of one of the arm chairs, and
proceeded to undo the buttons on his shirt sleeves to roll them up. His
movements were slow and meditated. He seemed in absolute control. It felt like
my stomach was turning inside out, and I started trembling both in fear and
anger. My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could hear it.

He turned around and took a step in my direction. And just like any other animal
in the face of danger, I leapt up and sprinted as far away from him as the room
would allow. He stood by the foot of the bed and reaching out with his hand, he
motioned for me to go to him. I remained with my back glued to the wall.

"You will not lay a finger on me," I hissed in a shaky voice.

"And how exactly do you plan on stopping this from happening, Miss Francon?" It
sickened me to hear the amusement in his voice.

"I'll fight you." I heard a voice in my head telling me such a notion was absolutely
ridiculous; he had sixty pounds on me easily.

"I'm not going to fight you, love. But I will get what I came here for. Now, you
can let me have my way with you, unharmed, or I can call my men in here and
they can hold you down. Would that work any better for you? I would much
rather do this alone, but I don't necessarily mind the help, or the audience."

I remained silent for what seemed an eternity. I didn't want to believe he was
capable of such a low rape. He finally smiled and turned in the direction of the
door.

"Simon, Gunther, come in, fellas!" Two mountains in the shape of men entered
the room, and I realized he was actually going to make good on his threat. I
shifted my frightened gaze from one man to the other, begging silently. They
remained impervious and motionless, awaiting their boss' order.

I wanted to scream for help, but who would come to my aid? I was surrounded by
people who would only listen to him.

"Should they stay now, Miss Francon?"

His words made my blood run cold. I felt choked by my impotency.

I shook my head frantically and instantly hated myself for being such a coward.
Shouldn't I fight him with everything I had? But the notion of two men holding
me down while another raped me was simply too overwhelming and humiliating
to bear.

He motioned for the men to go away which they swiftly did, leaving us alone once
again. He stretched out his arm and for the second time made a hand gesture for
me to come forward. I pushed myself off the wall and made the few steps it took
to reach his hand, which I didn't take. So instead, he placed it behind my head
and pulled me to him, bringing us so close together I could feel his warm breath
falling on me.

A part of me wanted to weep and plead with this man to leave me alone, not to
violate me, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking me down entirely.
I would hold on to what little pride I had left.

"You'll learn to enjoy it with time, Isabella. I promise." His words were merely a
whisper, but the tone behind them gave me shivers. He proceeded to look me up
and down with something that wasn't merely lust, it was possession. Placing his
hands on my shoulders he slowly but firmly forced me to sit down on the bed.
Without letting go of me, he pushed me down so that I was lying face up on the
bed, my feet still planted on the floor.

He slipped his hands under my dress and started pushing the fabric up, lightly
caressing my thighs with every travelled inch. Once he reached my underwear,
he stopped, and taking a deep breath, he hooked his fingers on the fabric and
pulled it down my legs and over my boots. I shut my eyes tightly and made the
resolution to keep them closed for however long this would last. I didn't want to
be haunted by the images as well as the feeling of him.

His hands were back on my thighs, his fingers tracing gentle circles on my skin.
His breathing intensified both in depth and frequency. I felt my body begin to
travel in a direction away from my brain. One felt slightly tingly, the other
intensely nauseous.

"Spread your legs, love." His voice was hoarse and even lower than it was a
moment ago, and I knew that I have no option but to do as told. But my muscles
could not respond; I just laid there motionless, petrified.

"Spread them now or I'll have someone in here spreading them for you." He
commanded more firmly, yet still calm.

I gathered up all the strength I had and did as I was told, completely revealing
my most intimate self to him.

"Wider, spread them wider."

I flinched with dread when fingers came into contact with my warm centre.
Slowly, he began exploring the folds of flesh. I felt exposed, on the verge of
crumbling. I turned my head to the side and shut my eyes even harder. My arms
were lying at my sides, and I grabbed at the bedspread in tight fists of silk while
his fingers unhurriedly caressed me.

I was suddenly left unattended and braced myself for the full onslaught. But
instead I felt his fingers on me once again, only this time they were wet and
slippery with what I can only assume was his own saliva.

I felt a single finger penetrating me and I bit down on my lip, hard. I would not
make a sound or movement, he'd have to be content fucking a corpse. The finger
went in as deep as the knuckle and then turned from side to side, caressing my
insides. He was so slow and gentle I was quickly forgetting I should not find it
pleasing.

Another finger joined the first, and I realized he was opening me, forcing my
body to become excited to allow for pleasurable penetration. And as much as I
hated myself, I could feel the wetness begin to soak his fingers.

I heard him struggling with his belt and pants, something which took him a while
since the other hand was still pushing a couple of fingers in and out of my body in
long and deliberate strokes. When he was satisfied in terms of my state of
arousal, he withdrew his fingers and I felt his weight on the mattress as he
positioned himself between my legs. One hand rested just by my head as the
other took the back of my thigh, pulling it up for a better angle.

I felt the head of his hard member against my entrance. And inch by inch, I felt
him slowly entering me. I bit down so hard on my lip that I tasted blood. I felt his
hot breath on my neck, murmuring something in a foreign language. Other than
his throbbing member now fully sheathed in me, there was little contact between
us- only the inevitable touching of our hips where they joined and his hand still
on my thigh. None of his weight fell on me.

He began dipping in and out of me in a calculating and torturing manner. I had to
fight my treacherous hips from lifting up to meet him. I wanted him to go faster,
deeper. We were a perfect fit: he was big enough to fill every inch of me and
even stretch me to my limit without hurting me. As painful as this assault was to
my mind, my body seemed unable to find it anything other than intensely
pleasurable. That was the most confusing part, he wasn't hurting me, if anything,
he seemed determined I should find release.

He began to speed up, going deeper in me with every thrust. A low grunt escaped
his lips and I could tell he was fast approaching climax. I wanted him to be done
before I was pushed over the edge myself. I simply could not allow myself to find
release in such an encounter. I struggled to regain some control over my body,
but the sensation of him so deep inside me was mind-blowing. I knew it was a
lost battle.

I could feel the walls deep in me begin to contract, and knew he felt it, too. The
sounds he was making evolved into a deep and throaty moan of ecstasy, and I
felt my body begin to tighten before a wave of pleasure washed over me. I had to
fight the hardest to suppress the moan that was fighting to be released from
deep within me. My head was thrown back deeper into the plush bedspread, my

hands tugging at it, still trying to find an outlet. The warmth that spread through
my insides told me we had climaxed together.

He remained in me for a minute until I felt his member begin to soften. He never
collapsed on me though; his weight resting against his own arms propped on the
mattress. He finally pulled himself completely out of me and off the bed. He was
still slightly out of breath, but rapidly calming. I heard him putting his clothes
back on and then once again his hands were on me, closing my still parted legs.
He gently pulled my dress down.

I opened my eyes which were directed at the wall. He was still in the room, and I
didn't want to meet his cold eyes and the victory that probably filled them. He
took a deep breath.

"You are mine now, Isabella. Whether you like it or not." With these words he
finally left the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

I gave into the tears I'd been holding back. I was torn between wanting to kill
him and wanting to cause some serious damage to myself. You filthy, fucking
whore, how could you? How could you have an orgasm while being abused like
that by a man you despise?

I felt betrayed by my own body. I was humiliated beyond anything I could
imagine. I sobbed into the bedspread, hugging my legs to my chest in a fetal
position. I felt so alone and used, so very worthless.

I heard the door open once more, and Robbie leaping on the bed with me,
whimpering and howling in concern over my sobbing.

I instantly sat up. "Shhh, puppy, its ok, Mommy's ok," I lovingly murmured as I
scratched him behind the ears, something that always calms and soothes him.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, I pulled myself up to the headboard. I took off
my boots and threw them on the floor. Getting under the covers, I motioned for
Robbie to curl up by my feet before turning off the lamp on my bed stand and
quietly crying myself to sleep.

Chapter 5- Desire

Thankfully, I was left alone to sulk in my humiliation for the next couple of days,
Edward having left town once again. During which time I oscillated between a
state of denial over what happened and obsessive replaying of every sensation
and sound. Sometimes I felt angry beyond anything, so angry I'd literally start
shaking; but others, I was just surprisingly aware of the way he'd made my body
respond so effortlessly.

I think that remained the worst part: he had turned me against myself, or so it
seemed to me. Was I as depraved and sick as I felt? Or was I just a masochist
who enjoyed torturing herself even further? I couldn't accurately describe what I
felt, but I found myself questioning whether or not I was hurting enough. It
seemed amazing to me how I could just keep going through my every day
routine without falling apart. I shouldn't be able to get out of bed in the
mornings, I should not be able to read Osacr Wilde and enjoy it, and I should not
be so God damn happy I had found my mother's locket.

The night of the event, I had woken in the middle of the night frightened and
shivering. I didn't know what time it was, but it was still dark. I wasn't sure what

woke me, perhaps a sound or simply the fact that my mind was still in shock and
not able to find rest.

I stretched my arm trying to reach for the lamp on the bed stand, and had
accidently pushed something off the table that fell with a metallic thump on the
wooden floor. I finally managed to turn on the light, and after the minute it took
for my eyes to grow accustomed, I leaned over the bed to retrieve the fallen
object.

My locket. My mother's locket. I was sure I'd never see it again. I had woken in
this house stripped of any personal belonging excluding my Robbie. And yet there
it was. Had it been there all along and I missed it? It seemed highly unlikely.

I reached down and took it with still shaking hands, and felt my eyes well up with
tears. Never having met someone does not mean you can't miss them, and at
that moment, I missed my mom more than ever. I went back to sleep tightly
holding the piece of jewellery.

On the third day of Edward's absence, Mary informed me I'd be having supper in
the Dining hall. And this could only mean one thing: he was back. For the first
time since my arrival, I appeared at the Dinning room before he did. I looked
around uneasily, unsure of what to do. Maybe I had misunderstood and he wasn't
back yet? But the two places set made me think otherwise. I took my usual seat
and waited in silence.

Lila entered the room and offered me some white wine, which I gratefully
accepted. Some twenty minutes later, I heard the main entrance door open and
hurried footsteps coming in my direction. Hoping against hope, I saw the
unmistakable shape of Edward's tall frame approaching through the relative
darkness of the hall.

My breath caught at the first sight of him under the chandelier's soft light. He met
my eyes and I felt myself blush, but I was hoping the dim light would prevent
him from noticing. I couldn't believe my eyes, right in front of me stood the same
man that had abused me but a few days ago, yet he displayed no trace of guilt or
even acknowledgment of the fact.

He remained as cool and collected as ever. In a way, he looked almost relaxed. I
couldn't help but observe him, he was truly a striking man, the beauty unmarred
by the intense hatred I felt for him.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I was detained." He broke eye contact and walked over to the
end of the table and his seat. I followed his every step. He was wearing a long
finely tailored dark coat that fit him perfectly and a thin tan sweater underneath.
The sweater had a V neck and he was wearing nothing underneath, the top of his
chest visible, coppery curls I'd never seen before. I also noticed he was wearing
jeans, something he had never worn in my presence before.

My eyes were still on him when he noticed me staring, and stopped with his
napkin midair to his lap.

"Something the matter, Miss Francon?"

"No," I replied shaking my head and looked away, trying to feign indifference.

"How you've been?" He rang the bell to signal for the first course to be brought
out.

"Bored," and again I met him straight in the eye. I needed him to know that I
was not frightened of him. I was truly surprised to realize I really wasn't. He had
done the worst he could possibly do to me and I had survived. At this realization,
and for the first time in days, I felt proud of myself.

He took a sip of water from his glass before asking, "And why is that?"

"I do the same things every day. Over and over and over." I'm again amazed at
how even my voice sounded, how… normal. How strange that I was capable of
carrying out a seemingly civil conversation with the man who forced himself on
me only days ago.

"And what do you suggest we should do about it?" I was amusing him once more.

"I'd like permission to ride your horses."

He smiled what seemed a genuine smile. Now that frightened me a bit. "Fine, I'll
have Hobson arrange morning ridings for you. Anything else, Miss Francon?"

"Yes, I need something to write with." I wondered where I was getting this
courage from; I was actually making demands on my captor.

He sighed deeply and seemed to ponder the matter for a few seconds while our
pear and Roquefort salads were being placed before us. He continued as soon as
Lila left the room.

"I'll have your laptop brought over, but the wireless system will be disabled, as
you must very well understand."

"Thank you." I motioned for Robbie to come by my side and happily patted him
on the head, trying to hide the small, victorious smile plastered on my face.

After supper was done I went up to my room and seated myself on the bed. I
didn't move, I hardly breathed at all. I was waiting to hear the dreaded
approaching footsteps.

But no one came.

And then three nights went by in the same manner. By the fourth I started
feeling perplexed. I should have been glad. It seemed like his actions had been a
one time demonstration of his power over me, but I couldn't help this feeling of
growing… rejection.

As much as I hated myself, I couldn't prevent the desire that kept growing in me.
Every night it seemed my mind kept pushing away the fact that I had been
violated and instead concentrated on what it had felt like. My memory and
feelings were betraying me just like my body did. Now everything seemed to be
headed in the same direction: the direction of wanting.

I was haunted by the memory of his touch, and now I found myself wishing I had
kept my eyes open to see him, see that beautiful torso move over me as he
plunged in and out of me, the expression of pure bliss in his face, the sweat
breaking from his forehead. Stop it, Bella, just stop it! What is the matter with
you?

I was sick, I was a pervert, maybe I really was just as bad as he was. Stop it,
Bella, stop it! Just don't go there. Stop torturing yourself!

I was fighting a loosing battle.

Supper time again, I arrived at the table where Edward was already seated
reading the paper. He hardly glanced over at me as I took my seat and unfolded
my napkin. I rang the bell and asked Lila to please bring me wine. Edward never
had anything other than water or milk. I sat there sipping my Merlot looking
straight ahead and sighed. It was going to be a quiet meal.

Back in my room I headed straight for the bathroom. I leaned over the sink and
closed my eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths. Maybe some cold water would
help steady my nerves. I might as well just wash my face and get ready for bed.

I opened the faucet and let the water run through my fingers, becoming
hypnotized by the flow and sound of it. I looked up in the mirror and was startled
by the figure leaning on the door frame behind me. Edward.

Just when I wasn't expecting the footsteps.

I closed the faucet and turned around. He held my gaze for a second before
slowly roaming my body up and down with smouldering eyes. I knew what he
wanted, and I hated to admit I felt relief. I simply had had enough of this growing
desire.

He motioned for me to go to him, which I did after a few seconds of hopeless
inner struggle. I stopped just inches away from his face, our warm breaths
mingling together. His hand went up to my lips and started gently tracing them
with his fingertips. I parted them a bit just to be rewarded with his lips abruptly
pressed on mine. He kissed me for a long time, thoroughly exploring my mouth
with his tongue. His hands went around my waist pulling me to him, my hands
landing on his hard chest.

I abruptly stopped the kiss and pushed him away with all my strength, turning
around and covering my mouth with my hands in sheer horror of myself. What
am I doing? I can't willingly allow this to happen. How can I allow this man to
even touch me after what he's done to me?

But before I could get farther away, I felt his lips on the back of my neck, kissing
and nibbling, making the hairs there stand on end. His hands pulled me back
against him by the hips. I could feel his erection on the small of my back. His
hands went up to roughly cup my breasts over the silk of my blouse. I couldn't
repress the moan that escaped my lips. Couldn't help the fire growing in my
belly.

Suddenly I couldn't quite remember why it was that I was supposed to stop this
man from having his way with me. Again.

He turned me around to face him and his lips came crashing down on mine once
more. My hands instinctively went up to grab his hair, running my fingers through
it and making a mess out of it. With his hands firmly still on me, he dragged me
back into the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, I allowed him to undress me and then lay me on the bed
while he removed his own clothing. I was in awe of his beauty; he had long and
powerful muscles, a well-defined stomach, beautiful thighs, and a stunning long
and thick cock.

He stood there looking at me, and I knew what to do this time. Without waiting
for his command, I spread my legs in invitation.

No fingers or preparation this time, the need was desperate in us both. He
entered me roughly in one stroke and began a merciless pounding that I knew
would bring us both over the edge in a matter of minutes.

This time I kept my eyes open, this time I caressed his chest and traced the trail
of hair leading down to where we were joined over and over. I lifted my hips to
meet his thrusts. We were both moaning and panting and already covered in a
thin layer of sweat. The room was permeated with our mixed scent, and the smell
was glorious. Like flesh and heat and sex and delicious hatred.

My climax consumed me, taking me by surprise with its force and intensity. It
was a fire that erupted from within, dissolving my bones and melting my skin
where it met his. I didn't fight it; I just let it have me.

A single 'fuck' was torn from his lips as he found his own release, surely spurred
by my insides contracting violently around him.

Again, he did not collapse on me after climaxing, but kissed a wet trail of open-
mouth kisses down my entire body, starting from my neck and breasts, down to
my stomach and thighs, as he pulled away from me and off the bed.

I was in a daze; I couldn't clearly process what had just happened. And in all
honesty, I simply didn't want to deal with it right now, deal with the
repercussions of my willing actions. I felt weightless, deliciously satiated and
drowsy. Whatever guilt and disgust and bewilderment lingered in the back of my
head, I'd force it away until the morning.

I got under the covers and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep even before he left
the bedroom.

Chapter 6- Rapture

Music. Beautiful, sad music coming from downstairs.

Edward.

I'd heard him play the piano before, usually very late at night. The first couple of
times I thought that the music was in my dreams, it took me a while to realize I
could never conjure up such lovely tunes. I knew it was him without ever actually
having seen him. His music was his polar opposite: warm, moving, filled with
longing.

I was in my bedroom deep in Rimbaud and his 'Season in Hell'. Was I in hell? I
was having trouble remembering. Could the flames of hell still burn your flesh
when the fire was coming from within? I needed to get away from this man and
his intoxicating touch. I could almost see those long fingers caressing the ivory
keys. I wanted to see them caressing my skin.

It had been four nights since our first consensual encounter and things had
continued in pretty much the same manner. We'd have supper, ignoring each
other as much as possible, I'd then wait in my room for him to show up and fuck
me into oblivion. He'd leave every time without so much as a single word or kind
gesture exchanged.

I couldn't understand my behaviour, or his. I couldn't understand how my body
was developing an addiction to the pleasures his body provided, against my

reasoning or good judgement. I still hated him, my feelings for him were in no
way warm or amiable. But that hatred only served to fuel the lust, it seemed.

Outside the boundaries of my bed, he remained cold, although never cruel, not
again. He had been right, I did learn to enjoy it and not even in that long of a
time. I hated that he'd been right. That was the one thing that made me want to
resist, proving him wrong. Prove to him that I was stronger than my desire. But I
simply wasn't.

The pleasure reached new heights with every encounter, even when the format
changed little from that first time. I supposed that by imposing this routine he
could remain detached from me, making it clear the sex was about control and
holding power over me. I was happy with the arrangement. As long as it
remained a physical need, I could keep at bay the feelings of guilt and self-doubt
and need for connection.

Only one thing was different from that first time: the kissing. Never again had he
kissed me. Perhaps he considered it too personal, saw it as a moment of
weakness in him, hence it had been vanished ever since. Again, fine by me.

I did fantasize about pleasures denied to me though, like his lips on mine once
more, or on that tender spot where the neck meets my shoulder, or the inside of
my thigh. I also kept wondering what his neck tasted like, how sensitive the
inside of his thigh was, how deep I could take him into my mouth. But more than
anything, I kept fantasizing about the feeling of his weight on me, sweaty and
trembling after climax, the one time when, for a second, he seemed almost
vulnerable.

I had taken into observing him these last few days, really observing him, not just
his outer beauty. He was a man of habit, a perfectionist, his house as immaculate
as his manners. He had flawless taste, through Mary I had learned that every
single piece in the house had been personally picked and placed by Edward
himself. I also knew he spoke several languages, three I could identify: French,
Italian and yes, obviously, English. Others I couldn't. There was one in particular
that intrigued me, and I had only heard him speak in it during our 'encounters'.

He was a riddle. I had never met anyone so difficult to understand, or so
apparently without a past. There was simply no trace of his life in the house.
Everything was as beautiful as it was impersonal. Not a single family photo or
high school memorabilia. I kept trying to build up the nerve to ask him about his
life, about his family, about why the compulsive collection of vintage cars and
thousands of CD's, why the severe grudge against my father. But I simply never
knew when the time would be appropriate; it seemed unlikely he'd share
anything personal with his hostage and the daughter of his most hated enemy.

All this time I was also keeping a close eye on the guards' routines, placements of
the cameras, irregular house help, when the mailman came, when groceries were
delivered, all in the hopes of finding the weak spot in my prison. I had hoped the
morning ridings would grant me an alternative way out of here, but the borders
of the estate were just as heavily guarded, if not more, than the house itself.
Armed men in jeeps were situated at every one of the three gates, and the vast
acres of land were surrounded by high walls with electric fences.

I did as much investigating as I could without drawing attention to myself. I had
to be as careful around Edward as with the rest of his people. No one here
seemed remotely eager in helping me escape. But I'm sure I would have been
much more dedicated to my task had I not been so relentlessly distracted by his

body and my constant daydreaming of it. I sometimes wondered if he hadn't
started fucking me just to distract me from trying to escape.

The music was still playing. Rimbaud had been completely forgotten. I looked
over at the clock on the nightstand. Ten after midnight. He had left my room not
an hour ago.

An idea popped in my head and I knew it was pointless to try and fight it. I was
already putting on my robe and heading for the door out of my room. I snuck a
peek out into the hall and after making sure Gunther was sound asleep, I made
quietly for the stairs, Robbie following me in a not so quiet saunter.

I hesitated at the library door, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. I was
very much surprised no one had stopped me on my way and forced me back into
my bedroom. Maybe I was still more afraid of Edward than I'd like to believe.

Don't be such a coward! The worst he can do is send you back to your room.

I knew that was lie, there were far worse things he could do. But I convinced
myself there weren't and I pushed the half closed door. The grand piano sat at
the centre of the room. Sitting by it, with his back to me, was Edward.

I made sure my presence would be known by walking with heavy steps and
standing just where his peripheral vision would detect me. I sensed taking one
Mr. Edward Cullen by surprise might end in a very unfortunate way.

He didn't stop, but something in his posture acknowledged my presence. I was
going to take a seat in one of the Danish wood benches but became spellbound
by the music and simply forgot myself. I forgot everything. Forgot the last few
weeks, my imprisonment, my fear, my confusion and desires, and instead,
focused only on him. His music spoke volumes; spoke of loneliness and pain, and
something sweet that felt almost like hope, or faith.

I felt like weeping, I felt a sadness I didn't know existed. Haunted, this music
came from a haunted soul. Too soon, the song ended. Edward turned slowly in
my direction, and for what seemed an eternity, just gazed into my eyes.

"Who taught you to play like that?" I realized too late I had spoken my thoughts
out loud. I knew I had to be crossing a line.

For a long time he remained still, keeping his eyes on me and breathing evenly.
It was so long before he spoke, I considered leaving.

"My Mother." His voice was so low I could have imagined it.

"Was she as good as you are?" Too late I realized he might think I was
questioning his mother's talents. I felt relief when he smiled gently, his gaze
suddenly far away.

"Much better, actually. She was a teacher at the Royal Academy of Music in
London."

"Does she still play?"

He turned back to the keys, and ran his hands through them, as if trying to evoke
the answer from them.

"My Mother is dead."

"I'm sorry. So is mine."

"I know."

I didn't know what else to say, it already felt like I had trespassed too much. I
was about to turn in the direction of the door when something else occurred to
me that I just needed to know.

"What was it that you were playing?"

"A lullaby." He responded immediately.

"Who wrote it?"

Long pause this time. "I did."

"It's lovely." I whispered.

Edward stared at me for a couple of seconds, his eyes were soft, something I
don't think I had ever seen in them before. I wanted to get closer to him, touch
him. The atmosphere became heavy, as if time had stopped. The moment
seemed detached from the past and from everything that was going on around
us. We were two different people, here and now.

But just as quickly, the moment evaporated.

"Go back to your room, Miss Francon. You shouldn't be up and about." His eyes
had grown cold again and they returned to the large instrument before him.

"Please don't be mad at Gunther. I snuck out when he got distracted for a
second." I hadn't realized I could be getting Gunther in too much trouble.

"No, you didn't. He was asleep. I'll deal with him later."

I went back to my room and straight to bed. And sometime during the very late
hours of the night, I was sure I heard the music playing once more.

That night Edward announced to me he was yet again going away. I had to take
advantage of these periods to really work out a plan to find a way out of here, or
somehow contact the outside world for help. Two things surprised me during his
disappearances: how much my body seemed to resent his absence, and how the
service regarded me. With a couple of obvious exceptions, I could very well do as
I pleased these days.

Almost supper time, Mary was putting the last touches on my makeup. I looked
at myself in the mirror. I noticed for the first time how comfortable I was starting
to feel in the sophisticated garments I was instructed to wear every night. Ever
since leaving my father, I had become accustomed to a life of denim and cotton.

Edward had returned that afternoon, but I was yet to see him. I knew I was
already expected at the Dining Hall so I walked swiftly down the stairs. Edward
was already seated at the table. His eyes were closed and he was resting his
head against the back of the chair. He opened them when I pulled my chair out to
sit. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted. He was also clean
shaven this evening, wearing a white shirt underneath a deep blue striped suit.
He looked like a young lawyer. Such irony.

I was at a loss for words so I simply took my napkin and placed it on my lap, he
remained silent as well. I took advantage of his attention being occupied by the
tuna Carpaccio to look at him some more. He seemed hardly aware of my
presence, had he missed me at all? Had I missed him? I hated that I was
wondering such things.

I had missed him during the nights that was for sure. I missed his hands, wanted
his lips. He had the most beautiful hands I'd ever seen. They were not particularly
masculine, they were too slender and long, almost delicate looking in a way. They
were the hands of an artist, or a lover, not a thug. Any woman could have an
entire love affair with those hands. I shivered slightly as I recalled the feeling of
those fingers deep within me, caressing my insides.

My eyes moved up to his lips then. The memory of those kisses making me
slightly dizzy, the way his tongue had caressed mine, the feel of his hot breath on
my face. I was suddenly very aware of how much I wanted him. I could feel my
insides tightening with anticipation, my breath becoming slightly jagged, my
heart rate speeding up.

I moved my gaze slightly higher and was met with intense green eyes fixed on
me. We locked eyes for what seemed an eternity until finally he rose from his
chair and came over to my side. He grabbed the back of my chair and turned it
so I was facing him. Going down on his knees, he pushed my skirt up, and
reaching for my underwear, he forcibly pulled them off.

He then spread my legs open as wide as he could manage, grabbing the back of
my knees and pulling me towards him until I was setting just by the edge of the
seat. Before my mind could grasp what was happening, his face was buried in my
lap and I was overcome by the feeling of his mouth on my entrance. A deep
moan escaped my lips.

I instinctively threw my legs on his shoulders to allow for a closer contact. I was
fighting the need to grab his hair and push him in deeper. It felt like he truly
wanted to devour me, his tongue skilfully dipping in and out of me, lapping at my
juices and making me deliciously wet and aching for more. When his teeth grazed
my clit, it was pleasure bordering on pain. I was sure I was going to lose my
mind.

His lips and tongue worked me close to the edge, and when I thought I couldn't
take it anymore he was once again on his feet. For a second I panicked he might
actually leave me this way. But he pulled me up to him only to throw me on the
table, plates and silverware going in every direction to make room for me. And
with very little care for the mess we were making or the fact that there were
people just a door away, he undid his pants, positioned himself between my legs
and entered me with such force I couldn't suppress a scream. He began pounding
me with such brutal force plates and glasses started falling and crashing loudly on
the floor with each violent thrust. I grabbed on to the edge of the table in an
attempt to keep myself somewhat steady.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen opened and Lila appeared by its threshold,
having obviously heard the wreckage. We both froze and looked in her direction.
In a second, Mary appeared behind her, and grabbing her by the shoulder pulled
her back inside. The only thing we heard was Mary's "Get back in here, you silly
girl!"

Edward and I looked at each and couldn't help but laugh. Poor thing must have
been shocked to find us in such a position.

He put an end to the laughter by resuming his frantic plunging. I wrapped my
legs around his waist and took him in as deep as possible, letting the ecstasy
take me over. We climaxed together, our loud moans echoing through the house.

We remained silent, panting for a bit, our faces so close they were almost
touching. I wanted to press my forehead to his, but I was sure he would pull
back.

He was looking deep into my eyes and still out of breath managed to say, "Never
look at me like that over dinner again, love. That was some very expensive china
you just ruined."

Chapter 7- Rhapsody

"Green, how I want you green.

Green wind. Green branches.

The ship out on the sea

and the horse on the mountain."

What was that next line? Green, Bella, always green…

I ran my fingers over each book cover, whispering the words out loud. I had once
known the poem by heart, and now all I could remember where bits and pieces. I
knew he had to have that book; it had to be here among the thousands. But
without remembering the poet's name, it was probable I had passed it without
knowing.

"- Green flesh, hair green,

with eyes of cold silver.

Green, how I want you green."

He has to have it. What was his name? Gorca? Yorgal? Damn it, Bella think…

I went back and started at the first shelf again. He had over fifty shelves of
poetry. It had to be here.

"- don't you see the wound I have

from my chest up to my throat?"

The skies were starting to clear. Morning was coming through the windows. I had
woken before the break of dawn, haunted by the poem. I had been dreaming
about green, everything green. I was standing in a green balcony waiting for eyes
of cold silver. Green eyes. I was in a strange house, not my house. I was a
stranger, not myself…

"- but now I am not I,

nor is my house now my house.

Now the two friends climb up,

up to the high balconies.

Leaving a trail of blood.

Leaving a trail of teardrops."

He has to have it! I know he does.

"Verde que te quiero verde," said a low voice coming from behind me.

I spun around so fast I almost lost my balance and had to grab on to a shelf as
not to fall. My heart was beating so fast I grabbed my chest in an attempt to
keep it from jumping out.

"Jesus, you scared me! Don't sneak up on people like that!" I shrieked a little
breathlessly. He couldn't suppress an amused smile. Why did I amuse this man
so much?

"I didn't sneak up on you. I've been standing here for some time now. It's not my
fault you are so unobservant." His voice was low, as if not to disturb the calmness
of the coming day. He was dressed, I noticed right away. Maybe he hadn't even
been to bed yet.

"Did you know you were talking out loud?" He went on, still amused.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I wasn't talking out loud, I was reciting poetry. Or trying
to recite poetry."

"Verde que te quiero verde." He noticed my puzzled look and quickly added,
"Green, how I want you green."

"Yes! You know it?" I couldn't hide my excitement.

"Federico Garcia Lorca," he said while grabbing a book from the upper shelf on
his right. He handed the book over. I flipped through it and noticed each set of
pages contained a poem both in English and Spanish.

"You speak Spanish?" How many languages did he speak?

"Yes." Were we up to seven languages then? I looked patiently at him with a
raised eyebrow, letting him know I'd await some further explanation to his
answer.

After about a minute he took a deep breath in defeat. "I lived in Spain for a
while."

"Hmm, what was that like?"

"Hot and dry." I pictured a hot and bothered Edward climbing the Spanish
landscape, sweat dripping down his forehead, and completely lost my train of
thought. He chuckled softly. I swore that man could read minds.

"Have you been having trouble sleeping?" I thought I could hear concern in his
voice, and it irritated me. Did he really expect his hostage to sleep well?

"You should know. You never sleep." I accused with annoyance.

"I don't need much sleep. I can get by on four hours a night."

I forgot about my irritation when something else occurred to me. "How did you
know I've been up for a while? I came down to the library only a short while
ago."

"I saw the light through your window." He answered like it was the most obvious
thing.

"So you take night strolls through the gardens? Or do you just like gazing up at
my window?"

He gave me a final smile and turned around, slowly walking in the direction of the
doors. "Go to the stables, Ms. Francon. Hobson must be waiting for you."

My morning ridings had become a ritual, an escape. The one time I could feel free
around here. Or at least pretend I was. With time I had become used to my life
here, almost to the point of strange contentment. And for all intents and
purposes, I was treated like the mistress of the house. Only one person held
authority over me: Mr. Edward Cullen.

But I would not fool myself. I knew I was still a prisoner whose life was very
much in danger. I had no idea how the negotiations between Edward and my
father were developing. I didn't even know how much contact there had been
between the two men.

After that night at the library with his haunting lullaby, Edward had been
somewhat more open with me, telling me bits of his life and himself. Although not
nearly enough to weave a past or personality. The subject of my father, however,
was completely off-limits. Twice had I tried bringing it up, and not only had he
refused me absolutely, he would shut down completely and I would have to start
all over again.

I wasn't sure why I strived so hard to get him to open. I should have wanted as
little to do with him as possible. But the reality was, he intrigued me. I found him
fascinating in all his unyielding and contradictory ways. He was refined and quiet
and dark and brooding. He was beautiful and cocky and coldblooded and over-
analytical. And the thing that fascinated me the most? The fact that he already
seemed to know everything there was to know about me.

I went back upstairs to change into my riding clothes and to get Robbie who was
probably still snoring on my bed. In less than fifteen minutes, I was walking into
the stables to find Hobson saddling up two horses. Two horses? That could only
mean Edward intended to join me, something he had never done before.

I was waiting for the master of the house to arrive while dreading having to ride a
different horse. I usually took Man-o-war, Edward's beautiful stallion, but I knew
I wouldn't be allowed to do so if he was joining me.

I was whispering and petting the black beloved stallion when Robbie took off in
the direction of the entrance to greet Edward, who was walking in my direction
closely followed by a fuming Joseph. They were in the middle of a heated
argument. It was only the second time I had seen the arguing. And just like the
first time, I had a feeling I was somehow involved. I remembered what had
happened that first time and ice formed at the pit of my stomach.

I pushed back the thought that sooner or later, I would have to deal with what
happened that night and the repercussions it unleashed.

"There is no other option and that is the end of this argument, Joe. Is that clear?"
Said Edward in a final tone.

"Fine, Edward, have it your way, but I'll have no part in it." Robbie had reached
them and was rubbing his nose on Edward's pants. He was rewarded with
Edward's inattentive, but still appreciated, patting. Joseph had turned in the
direction from which they came from, leaving a seething Edward behind.

"What was that all about?" I asked before I could stop myself.

I should have known he would turn his anger towards me. "Has everyone in this
house forgotten it's me who's in charge around here?" He barked in my direction.

I was still clutching Man-o-war's rein, something he finally noticed. He breathed
deeply. "Fine, take Man-o-war, I'll ride Ancor." His voice sounded defeated but
calmer.

I smiled turning to my horse.

Minutes later we were in full gallop over a stretch in the grounds that led to a
forest area about eight miles away from the main house. Robbie was a good 2
miles behind and not making much progress to catch up with us. Edward was
close behind, Manowar being the superior horse, but I liked to think it had
something to do with the rider as well. It was such an exhilarating feeling, riding
at full speed, the cold wind against my face, the beating of my heart in rhythm to
Man-o-war's hooves hitting the ground.

By the time we reached the woodlands I was a good quarter of a mile ahead from
Edward. We both slowed down as soon as we were surrounded by the thick mass
of greenery. I was close to panting from the run and when I looked back noticed
he was just as out of breath. His gaze was intently fixed on me. He looked
striking in his white dress shirt, long dark fitted coat and riding pants with tall
black boots. He looked like a gentleman. Had it not been for the dishevelled hair,
I would have thought he had come out of a 19th century painting.

He jumped off Ancor in one fluid motion, and taking his coat off, threw it on the
ground before marching back towards me. He grabbed my arm and forcefully
pulled me down and lowered us both on the waiting coat. He undid my pants
without delay and pulled them down as far as my riding boots would allow, which
was just under my knees.

He undid his own pants, and pushing my legs up in the air, crawled under and in
between them to place himself on top of me. My legs were locked tightly around
him, trapping him close to my body thanks in great part to my boots and
crumpled pants. I was reaching for his shirt, wanting to undo it to caress his
chest, when he grabbed my wrists effectively stopping me and pinned them over
my head.

Without much else warning or preparation, he roughly entered me in one swift
stroke, making me scream in a bit of delicious pain. He immediately began
moving in and out of me with so much force the air was pushed out of my lungs
with every thrust. He was clutching my wrists with so tightly I'm sure he would
leave marks. His face was just inches from mine, he smelled like oranges and
sandalwood and man. I could feel his breath on my skin and it was driving me
mad with the desire to kiss him. His face was flushed and contorted in an almost
painful expression, his eyes half closed.

He had never been this rough with me before, but strangely enough it felt a lot
less imposed, like I could get him to stop if I wanted to. I was still mesmerized by
his lips and lifted my head up in an attempt at capturing them, but he roughly
pulled away and only resumed movement when I dropped my head back on the
soft cashmere fabric.

I was so close to climax and still all I could think about were his lips, I wanted to
feel the rough friction of his unshaven face against my skin, his warm tongue
exploring my mouth. I pulled up in a second attempt, and was sure he'd shun me
once more. He didn't. We both froze with the first contact, our lips barely
touching, our breath mingling.

When he finally began moving it was to softly caress my lips with his. His lips
were so soft and his mouth so undemanding. The kiss was very slow at first, our
lips rejoicing in the reunion. Until I moaned softly and we both completely lost

any sense of softness. The kiss became heated and crazed, and Edward resumed
pounding me like he was trying to push himself completely into me. My body
began to quiver, on the verge of completion once more.

"Isabella," he whispered my name roughly in between wet, coarse kisses and it
was like a drug injected to my system, throwing me off the edge in a rippling
orgasm that made me cry into his mouth. He followed seconds after with a deep
moan that seemed to emerge straight from his core. We were panting like mad,
covered in moisture from the humid environment of the forest and our own
sweat. Our faces were still pressed together, mouths breathing into one another.
I could feel his body trembling from the strain of holding himself up over me. I
thought he would pull away when he suddenly collapsed on me.

I had never felt his weight on me and I had to admit it felt lovely. Our chests
were pressed together and I could feel his heart's strong beating. I was close to
falling into a delicious state of semi-consciousness, when I felt him begin to pull
away. I quickly wrapped my legs tighter around him trying to prevent him from
going away. He sighed and buried his face in my hair, breathing me in. He finally
let go of my abused wrists, I could feel tingling from the blood's resumed
circulation.

Without even thinking about it, my arms wrapped around him and ran through
his hair on their own accord. I caressed his neck and back, feeling every muscle,
every bump and indentation in his spine. Our breathing was completely calm now
and all I wanted was to close my eyes and sleep. He lifted his face and looked
deep into my suddenly very open eyes. I could sense he was about to say
something when we were both struck by Robbie who's finally caught up with us
and is both jumping and barking in excitement.

"Boy, stop, stop!" Edward said as he playfully shoved Robbie away, laughing in
the process, something my dog took as a sure sign of play and began tugging at
his shirt. We are forced to get up and dress while playing with a most agitated
dog.

Our ride back to the house was slow and calm, the animals being pretty
exhausted, as were the riders.

"I'm leaving tonight and I will not return for over a week," his voice was sombre
and low, his eyes fixed on the still far off stables.

"Ok," I answered in the same tone. "Do something for me?"

He looked over at me but didn't answer. I took his silence as affirmation and
continued with my request.

"Could you give something to my Father?"

"I never said I was going to meet with him," he responded defensively, but after
a deep breath added, "yes, I will."

"Thank you."

We remained quiet the rest of the way. He didn't ask what I wanted to send my
Father, and I was not about to offer the information unrequested. As soon as we
reached the house I went up to my room to write the letter I wanted to send. It
was not a letter for help; I knew well enough it would not be delivered unread.
There were things I wanted to say I feared I would not get a chance later on.
Things that perhaps Charlie deserved to know.

Chapter 8- Jealousy

Three o'clock in the morning. No rest for the restless. I sighed deeply.

Robbie was softly snoring by my feet on the bed, but I laid there watching the
silent darkness around me. Edward had been gone for three days, and I knew
that before he came back I needed to break into his office and somehow get a
message to the outside world for help. I had been a prisoner here for close to
three months now, and I was growing steadily uneasy about my safety. How long
until Edward realized that I was becoming too great a liability and discard of me?

I knew my father loved me, but in all honestly, I wasn't too sure if he would ever
bend to someone else's will. If there was one thing I knew about Charlie is that
he didn't take orders from anyone. And what did I know about his feelings for
me, anyway? I had not seen my father in years and perhaps he had finally
forgotten about his stubborn daughter.

I thought about the letter Edward was to deliver, had it reached Charlie's hand
already? I couldn't imagine his reaction to my words. It was a letter I had
thought about writing continuously over the years. I never regretted having left
my Father and that existence behind, but as a daughter who had been most
profoundly loved by her dotting father, I felt there were things it was only fair for
him to know.

Like the fact that I did love him, that I always had and always will, regardless of
his past or future actions. Towards me, at least, he had been a kind and loving
parent. It was baffling to know that someone so terrible was capable of good. It
made the world a much more complex place than I had imagined. I always
thought that killers and rapists were monsters, right along the lines of vampires
and werewolves. Soulless creatures with a never ending thirst for blood. That
would have been an easy existence to understand. The reality was very different.

A long time ago, when I was 15 and still living under my father's roof, I had
visited the widow of a man my father was rumoured to have killed. Not
personally, my father had people to take care of the dirty laundry for him. The
man in question had been a gangster, one of my father's men who had
apparently been targeted by the police and hence considered to place danger on
everyone. Knowing too much in the mob was a sure way to get you closer to your
grave.

His widow was devastated. Not only would she have to fend for herself and her
three boys now, but was left with deep debts and the sour surprise of her
husband's true vocation. She had not known he was a gangster. It was the police
who had finally told her. After a search that lasted weeks, the police had come to
the conclusion they were now looking for a body, a body that was never found.
His family never got to bury his remains, they were denied the chance to say
goodbye.

When I confronted my Father he didn't even bother to deny it, telling me that in
this life, such measures were a necessity. I asked how was it possible he could
live with himself knowing he had ended a life. He had calmly stated that not all
life was worth the same, that some people were disposable after they had played
out their purpose. I didn't know what was worst, the fact that my Charlie felt no
guilt over having committed murder, or his rationale behind it.

After he considered we were done with that seedy subject, he had gone on to tell
me it was a good thing I had found out. He was proud of his smart and cunning
daughter who had figured it all out. He was convinced I would make a

magnificent successor. That was the day I made up my mind about leaving as
soon as I was out of high school.

I never thought I would be sucked into my Father's world again. He had obliged
me and respected my wishes to sever all contact, all ties. Not once had he tried
to reach me, even though I knew Helga reported back to him whenever she came
to visit. I didn't mind, I knew he'd be happy to know his daughter was well.

And now I found myself back here, a prisoner to one of Charlie's enemies. I had
never heard of a Mr. Cullen while with Charlie, but he would have been too young
back then. I thought how Edward would actually make a perfect heir to my
Father. He was everything he would have ever desired in a son. I thought it was
ironic that they were fighting each other when they could be the best of allies.

But perhaps Edward had other reasons to hate my father? Perhaps this was not
only about power? But I couldn't imagine Edward as anybody's victim, I'm sure
he had been born with that black soul of his. Which brought me to something I
had been struggling to ignore for weeks now: why was I allowing this fiend to
have his way with me? Why was I struggling to unravel a hidden goodness in him
that perhaps did not exist at all?

I knew I was in denial about the way things had begun, or I found it easier to
cope with if I thought he had done it for reasons other than to hurt me, to
oppress and humiliate me. I had witnessed two Edwards, the Edward that had
abducted and almost killed me in the process, had raped me and was keeping me
captive here; and the Edward who seemed intent in making me feel at home,
who complied with my every desire and who seemed to crave my body as
desperately as I craved his.

But I knew those two characters were one and the same, I knew that behind that
reserved kindness of his, there was an ever-present threat. No matter what
closeness I had managed to build between us, I could tell he had a plan, and
nothing would sway him from getting what he wanted. Was he to care for me
would it save me from a terrible fate? I had to keep telling myself that my
motivation was instinct of survival.

Keep telling yourself that, Bella…

Three days, Edward might be returning any day now. He said over a week but
he's never stayed away that long. I kicked the covers off me and jumped out of
bed. Robbie lifted his head briefly feeling the disturbance but settled back down
immediately with a loud snort. I quietly opened the door and took a peek out the
hallway. Gunther, as always, was fast asleep on a chair just outside my door. I
tiptoed around him and headed downstairs for Edward's studio.

I reached my destination but was not surprised to find the door locked. I took a
deep breath and headed back in the direction of my room, but as soon as I took
the first step up, I changed my mind and turned in the direction of the kitchen.
Once there, I poured myself a glass of milk and sat on the rustic wood table deep
in thought.

Approaching steps let me know someone was coming. The door swung open and
Joseph stood there looking his usually calm and collected self.

"You almost gave Gunther a heart attack," he said, clearly struggling to keep the
mischief out of his voice.

"Well Gunther shouldn't sleep on the job."

"What are you doing, Bella?"

"Drinking milk and wondering why anyone would have milk but no cookies in their
home" His mouth turned up in a bright smile as he moved to the cabinets on the
far end of the kitchen. He came back holding a box of my favourite marshmallow
and chocolate cookies.

"You couldn't sleep?" He took a seat as well and crossed his legs.

"I notice you guys seem to be stunned by the fact that I can't sleep well while
being held against my will." He was not amused, if anything, he looked terribly
worried all of a sudden. I decided this was a good time to take advantage of the
paternal affection he had clearly developed for me.

"Does Edward always leave his studio locked whenever he leaves?" I said in a
hushed voice.

He remained silent for a long time just looking at me. I knew he was debating
whether or not to help me. I was sure the prospect of betraying Edward was not
something he would look forward to. He stood up and I sighed in disappointment,
I guess I wasn't getting any help from him tonight. He bent over and kissed the
top of my head, very much in the way Mary had a habit of doing.

Just as he was almost out the door, he casually replied, "Not tomorrow."

Two days later I knew Edward had returned, but I was not asked to join him for
dinner and I was warned not to leave my bedroom since he had some guests
over for the evening. From my window I had watched the flock of catering vans
and service arrive just after noon and the parade of limousines hours later. It was
a posh event, it seemed. I remembered how my dad had loved those. I wondered
what the occasion might be.

Part of me wished I could see Edward, he had not so much as come by to say
hello and the thought of seeing him after such a long absence was not
unpleasant. I was sitting on the floor playing with Robbie who was more than
happy to get his tummy rubbed in between playing catch with his rubber ball.
Thankfully, the room was big enough to supply some entertainment to my dog.

The sound of music and chatter and laughter travelled all the way up to my
bedroom, and I was growing increasingly curious of what was going on down
there. I remembered when I was a kid sneaking through the house to spy on my
dad during his famously lavish parties.

Suddenly, I couldn't just sit here anymore I got up and stuck my head out the
door to see if there was anyone guarding it. No one was in sight. I guessed
Gunther had just given up his post entirely.

Robbie wanted to join me in my wanderings but I closed the door behind me,
locking him in. I guessed the event was taking place on the terrace, it was the
perfect place to have a party and the night was beautiful. I leaned over the railing
of the stairwell and saw two guards standing by the landing, but no one in
between floors. I knew the best place to spy would be the library, and the path to
it was clear.

I made my way quietly and approached the tall windows at the far end of the
large room. At least four dozen people in formal evening attire stood around
talking and dancing to a jazz band, waiters coming and going serving drinks and
canapés. The terrace was decorated with a million white lights and the
illuminated grounds made for a breathtaking background.

I searched for Edward but was nowhere to be found. I did, however, notice a few
well known politicians among the gathering and a few of my father's business
partners. Politicians and thugs, age-old synonyms. I knew it was pointless to try
and ask any of them for help. If they were here, they were thugs.

I headed over to the other side of the library; those windows overlooked the
greenhouse where Mary and I had lunch almost every day. The lights were on
and I could see a couple seating close together drinking champagne. The man's
back was to me, but I could see the woman, hardly a woman she was so young.
She is striking, not to mention barely covered in a tan silk dress that made her
look naked.

The man was caressing her thigh, pushing the fabric away, and their faces met in
a long kiss. I felt my stomach getting tied up in a knot. I knew it before he turned
to the side and I could get a clear view of his face. I knew who the man was. I
backed away from the window and collided with someone who was standing
behind me. I spun around to find Joseph, his eyes locked on the exact same spot
as mine were just seconds ago.

"Go to your room, Bella. I'm sorry I didn't lock the door," he hissed quietly.

"I'm not," and I ran in the direction of my room, slamming the door behind me
when I finally got there.

I hadn't felt this trapped since the first week I spent awake in this house, but I
was even more furious than back then. I suddenly felt nothing but the acutest
hatred for every object that surrounded me, every wall that trapped me, every
window than delimited my elegant confinement. I walked to the fireplace, took
the beautiful French vase that stood over it, and threw it against the wall, where
it crashed spreading bits and pieces all over my bed and floor.

My bed? This wasn't even my bed! Nothing here was mine. I was just the hostage
whore who was dumb enough to behave! I was overcome by rage and started
breaking everything that decorated this room, shattering mirrors, pulling at the
curtains, knocking furniture over. Robbie could do nothing but get out of the way
and howl in concern and fear over his deranged owner.

The door abruptly burst open while I was still in the middle of the demolition, and
both Edward and Joseph hurried into the room, both freezing in shock at the state
of the room. I had a silver candlestick in my hand which I was about to throw
against the window but instead throw at Edward. Had it not been for Joseph, who
pulled him out of the way in time, I might have split his head in two.

"What has gotten into you, woman?" Edward screamed while trying to move in
my direction but Joseph hadn't let go of his arm and effectively stopped him from
getting any closer.

"Get the fuck out of my room!" I screamed at the top of my lungs and I was
about to grab the next nearest heavy object to throw at him when Joseph decided
it was not necessarily Edward who needed restraint and leap over to me wrapping
his arms around me, holding me so I could no longer move. I thrashed and
kicked in an attempt at escaping his grip, but he was much stronger than I could
ever be.

"Edward, leave NOW!" I had never heard Joseph yell out an order to his boss like
that and I guess neither had Edward since he was astounded into silence and saw
no alternative but to turn around and leave the bedroom.

As soon as he was well out of ear reach I crumbled into Joseph's arms, who
started rocking me in an attempt to calm me down. I started sobbing before I
could get a grip on my emotions.

"Calm down, Bella, don't let him see how much he's hurt you," he said while
turning me around to face him.

I laughed bitterly and dropped my head in shame, "Your advice comes a bit late,
doesn't it?"

He pulled my face up by the chin to meet him straight in the eye. "No, I don't
think he had the time to notice much else other than the objects flying in the
direction of his big head" I laugh again and dried my tear stained face with the
back of my hands.

"God, how am I supposed to sleep here tonight?" and I can't stop laughing,
everything seemed so ridiculous.

"Wait here, Bella."

A few minutes later, Mary appeared at my door, laughed when she saw the mess
I had made out of my room and lead me to one of the other guest rooms on the
same floor. On the way over I could hear Joseph and Edward in the middle of an
ear-splitting argument locked up in the study. I wanted to linger and listen but
Mary would not allow it.

"You've achieved your goal, I suppose, Bella. She's left the house and I doubt
he'll dare bring her back," She told me.

"Is she a girlfriend?" The anger was slowly dissolving and being replaced with the
worst thing I could be feeling towards Edward: jealousy. It made me so ashamed
I wanted to start crying again.

"No, she was just another one of his collectibles."

"Is that what I am?" I couldn't look at her, I knew she must think me crazy for
caring.

"Unfortunately, no," she answered in a low and defeated voice. Before I could
inquire further, she left me alone in my new room to wait for the screaming
match downstairs to end and whatever outcome that would follow.

Chapter 9- Surrender

It was the longest night. The guests had left hours ago. Joseph and Edward were
still locked up in the study. I heard their booming voices travelling upstairs every
now and then. It was almost five o'clock in the morning, which meant sunrise was
near. I had not been to bed. I was still wearing my jeans and t-shirt; and I was
still waiting for something to happen.

Once again I sat on the floor with Robbie by my side. Only this time he was fast
asleep, my only company being Federico's haunting words:

"My friend, I want to die

decently in my bed.

Of iron, if that's possible,

with blankets of fine chambray.

Don't you see the wound I have

from my chest up to my throat?"

I understand your words all too well, my friend. How this wound hurts me so.
How it bleeds and rips me apart…

I no longer felt angry. The anger had dissolved into something much more
deadly, something that felt like emptiness. I had this growing void in my chest. It
was eating at my insides, draining me of blood, of life. I had never felt this alone,
or this lost.

I never would have expected to be so hurt over the notion of Edward and another
woman. I hated to admit I had formed an attachment to him. He obviously didn't
feel the same way and it made me feel sad and ashamed. I was a fool.

Each breath was becoming a struggle. I felt suffocated. Maybe the hole had
reached my lungs and was making it impossible for air to penetrate. I had to get
away from this place, away from this cold, heartless monster.

"But who will come?

And from where?

She is still on her balcony

green flesh, her hair green,

dreaming in the bitter sea."

Please hear my pleas and come rescue me! I can't bear this, and I can't ever face
him again. Will I see nothing but disdain in his eyes? Or maybe worse and all he
feels is indifference towards me, pity for the sad little girl who fell for her captor.
How could I be this careless? How could I fool myself into thinking he would ever
see me as anything other than a means to an end?

My blood began to boil with anger once more. My breathing increased and I felt
relieved that the void seemed to dissipate somewhat, being pushed back by the
wrath. Rage and hatred where good, those were emotions I could handle, those
were the emotions that would help me escape. Set me free. There would be no
more distractions, no more looking to find something that was never there, no
more needs and desires.

No more Edward.

And as much as I tried to shove it away, I felt the sadness creeping back into my
chest at that thought. A broken sigh escaped my lips and I bent my legs,
wrapping my arms around them and placed my chin on my knees. I was still
holding the book. I desperately wanted to just forget about all of this and go back
to Lorca's lovely and tortured words. My eyes misted over and my vision became
slightly blurred.

Don't cry, Bella, don't you dare cry again. You've wasted too many tears over him
as it is.

Suddenly, I realized the house had become engulfed by silence. I guessed they
had either killed each other or had become too exhausted to continue. I waited
for any noise, any sign that would give me a clue as to what was to happen next.

But no sound of any kind could be heard. I had a feeling Edward would find an
excuse to leave the house once again, and get away from having to deal with me.
Maybe the time for someone else to 'deal' with me has finally come. I was not
afraid- I would face the consequences of my actions. I would not sit still and
behave any longer.

I sighed again deeply and looked at my watch, fifteen past five. I was exhausted.
I should just try to get some sleep.

I had just made up my mind about this when I was startled by the sound of a key
turning and the door slowly opening, its hinges squeaking faintly. Edward walked
in and closed the door behind him not meeting my eyes. I couldn't read the look
on his face, but it was obvious he was upset. His shirt was untucked, sleeves
rolled up, his black tie and jacket gone, and he was bare foot, just like I was.

I was still sitting on the floor, my back resting against the side of the bed, book
still in hand. I watched him pace the room, from one corner to the other. At first
slowly but he began to gain speed after a couple of turns. He would sometimes
stop and run his hand through his hair, pulling at it, making the ends stand up in
every which direction. At others, he would look close to speaking but would
change his mind and resume his pace. I didn't take my eyes off him. I silently
followed his every move.

Perhaps this was the last time I would ever see him. The very thought released
me from my anger once more. I would get away from him. I would escape and be
free. But then I would allow for his presence to have this effect on me. For just
this last time, I would let myself admire his tall and graceful figure, his pale and
beautiful skin, his unruly hair the colour of bronzed copper, the angular features
of his face. And his eyes. Green, how I want you green.

"What you did tonight was unacceptable. I will not have such behaviour in my
house." He began, waking me from my stupor. "Would you rather be locked up in
the basement? Chained to a wall? I've treated you like a guest when I could have
let you face the cold and hunger and fear of a very different arrangement!"

He was more than upset; he seemed on the verge of hysteria. His eyes glowed
with fury. I wanted to laugh suddenly- this new behaviour of his was almost
comical. I restrained myself thinking he'd hardly appreciate my openly mocking
him. But I'm sure he could see the corners of my mouth turning up ever so
slightly.

"This is my house and I will do whatever and whomever I please." He returned to
pacing. He looked like a caged cat, just as trapped and just as nimble. "What
makes you think you have a place in my life? By now you should know you are a
hostage, a valuable object I'm holding until I get what I want."

He looked straight at me for the first time, maybe expecting me to reply, to show
any sign that I understood him, that I was afraid. I said nothing; I remained
mute and still, observing him, watching every tiny muscle in his face twitch,
every crease in his expression become deeper and more pronounced.

"You have misbehaved for the last time. This is not a game. I make no idle
threats. You know what I am capable of. Do you think you have seen the worst of
me? I-" He abruptly stopped, still looking at me. He knew he was not scaring me,
his words where not having the desired effect.

It was as if I could see him for the very first time. It was so clear. It was staring
me right in the face. I tilted my head to the side and squinted my eyes in an
attempt to get a different angle of him. It was still there. His eyes became

darker, deeper. I saw the storm behind them, rippling, rising, he was drowning in
it.

In a desperate last resort, he approached me and taking me by arms pulled me
up to his height. His scent filled my senses. The book I was holding dropped to
the floor forgotten. It didn't work, it would never work. I could still see it right
there in his eyes.

"Am I never to touch another woman, is that what you want? What delusions
have you in your head that make you believe I care for you?" He shook me
forcefully but not enough to actually hurt me.

Oh Edward, you can't shake the sense out of me.

"You mean nothing to me." He swallowed audibly, and his expression changed
even more noticeably. He no longer looked angry, he looked as frightened and
hurt as I must have looked just hours ago. It was now him who looked trapped
and lost.

"Nothing," he repeated in a breathless whisper, his fingers digging deeper into
the skin under the cotton of my t-shirt.

I knew it wasn't forgiveness that made me do it, it was survival. I crashed my lips
to his and threw my arms around his neck. I knew he would try to push me away
and I would not allow it. He did. In his attempt at getting away, he ended up
trapped between my body and the door.

My lips were begging his to grant me entrance, and when they finally did a
broken gasp escaped his lips. His struggle was in vain, the more he tried to push
me away the tighter I held onto him. The stronger I became, the weaker he
grew. I could feel his body yielding to mine. I could feel his resolve dissolving.

His hands gently went up to my face. I felt his fingers tremble, his whole body
shook. I wanted to release him from this fear. I wanted to break him completely
and take him into me, surrendered. My mouth caressed him softly, his lips, his
tongue, his jaw, his neck. I was claiming him as mine the way he had done with
me. But I was not in search of just his body.

I unbuttoned his shirt and slid it down his shoulders. I slowly traced the muscles
of his abdomen. The hands slid from his neck to his navel and went up his arms. I
looked at him and was left breathless with what I encountered. He looked
vulnerable, pleading, close to tears. His breath was rough and uneven.

"Edward."

I wasn't sure if I'd spoken his name out loud, but something stirred in him and
brought some of his strength back. Wrapping one arm around my waist and the
other behind my head, he kissed me with a passion that made me light headed.
He wouldn't fight me anymore, he'd deny me nothing. My hands were back on his
chest and went around to caress his back. I wanted to touch every square inch of
his flesh, leave no territory unexplored.

He allowed for me to set the pace. He allowed me to undress him, admiring his
beautiful body, this beautiful body that was mine. Mine alone.

"No one ever again. Do you understand me?" I held his face between my hands
forcing him to meet my words straight on.

"Yes." His voice was strained, but yielding.

"Do you really understand? You are mine and mine alone."

He gave a firm nod of the head and pulled me back into his embrace. I realized
he was completely naked while I was still wearing all my clothes. I smiled into his
mouth at the realization, and he smiled back looking down at himself.

This man can read minds; I'm sure he can.

I led him to the bed where I sat him and began to undress, dropping my clothes
on the carpeted floor. I sat on his lap, facing him, one leg bent on each side of
him. I took his face in my hands once again and kissed him deeply. I kissed him
long and hard until he moaned in my mouth with need and desperation. I slid two
fingers in his mouth and commanded for his tongue to wrap around them. I then
pulled them out and slid them into my own core.

I knew I was wet and more than aroused, but I took pleasure in having him
watch me. I began to rock my hips, brushing against him. He took my hips in an
attempt to lift me over his aching need, but I took his hands and entwined my
fingers with his. Lifting myself up, I lowered my body taking him slowly in inch by
inch, until he was sheathed into my core.

"Jesus! Bella, please." He whispered needful in my ear.

This was new territory to me. Not only because I had never been tender with
Edward, but also because I had never made love to a man. I was used to being
the passive one, allow for the man to take the lead and call the shots. My pace
was slow and unhurried, lifting myself almost all the way up just to lower myself
back down completely. Telling him through my care and gentleness what I
couldn't yet in words.

I let go of his hands and allowed Edward to explore my body the way I had done
with him. Our caresses were unhurried and tender, mirrored by my gentle
rocking. I know we were way past any point of control, and I know this could only
end in catastrophe. We climaxed together with a slow burn that began
somewhere deep within us and overflowed claiming us whole. We remained in the
same position, our lips and hands still caressing leisurely.

After some time, the caresses became heated once again. Edward flipped us over
the bed so he was lying on top of me. He entered me in one swift stroke and a
moan escaped me as tissues already made too sensitive were parted by a fresh
onslaught.

"I will not forgive you easily for this," I warned softly in his ear.

"Make me suffer for this. Make me your slave." His mouth went down to bite
tenderly at my neck, biting and kissing. I knew I would not last long, everything
felt too intense, his strokes too deep and powerful.

My back arched and I knew I was falling off the cliff, and I was dragging him right
along with me. From far away I heard my scream mingled with his.

He remained on top of me, exhausted and whispering something tenderly in my
ear. It was the second time I had heard him speak in that language to me.

"What language is that?" I asked groggily.

"Russian." He answered without hesitation.

"You speak Russian?"

He smiled and kissed my ear, and nuzzled his nose into my hair, breathing me in.

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Nine." He rolled himself off me pulling me with him so I would lie on top of him.
He wrapped his arms around me and began languidly caressing my back.

"Where did you learn each of them?"

"My mother taught me French and Italian. I learned Greek from a neighbour. I
learned Spanish in Spain, Russian and Yakanye in Russia, and Mandarin in China.
I speak English because I was born here in Chicago. Latin and Aramaic I studied
at school."

"Yakanye is a dialect." I rubbed my face in his chest, feeling the hair tickle my
nose.

"Fine. I speak eight languages and one dialect."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I was thinking about four kids and a June wedding." He said a bit drowsily. I
knew he could very well be serious.

"In that order?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. His eyes closed and I knew he was
on the verge of sleep. We were both absolutely exhausted, physically and
emotionally spent. I knew there were still many things to disclose. I was still
angry with him, and not only for the sucking face with another woman. I had a
mile long list of injuries done to me by this man. But laying here and now it was
difficult to remember them, to take them as seriously as I should.

Again, I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and was close to unconsciousness when
I heard his soft voice once again.

"Next time you want to leave the house, you'll find that no one will try to stop
you." And everything went black and quiet.

But I never got to put his promise to the test. Some time around mid morning,
the doors to the bedroom where Edward and I lied warmly in each others arms
burst open and four men forced us out of bed. Edward was violently taken away
by three of them while one remained back with me handing over my clothes to
put on. Last I heard from Edward was my name called out as he was dragged
away.

Chapter 10- Regret

Five minutes.

All it took was five minutes in Edward's study that night after my kitchen chat
with Joseph to set myself free. I walked in, dialled Charlie's number and waited
until I heard those two words.

"Got it," and the line went dead.

I knew that meant it had been long enough for the call to be traced. My father
would be expecting my call. I knew I wouldn't need to utter a single word. I had
sent the instructions in my letter, in the form of my father's favourite poem:

"The little boy was looking for his voice.

The king of the crickets had it.

In a drop of water

the little boy was looking for his voice.

I do not want it for speaking with;

I will make a ring of it

so that he may wear my silence

on his little finger

In a drop of water

the little boy was looking for his voice.

The captive voice, far away,

put on a cricket's clothes."

It seemed very unlikely for Edward to suspect anything out of the letter. Besides
the poem, it contained just a few lines I wanted my Father to read. Words an
estranged daughter would like to say to her father in the off chance they would
never see each other again. I had to be realistic. If negotiations did not develop
between him and Edward, I knew I would become too great a burden. So no
matter how much of a distraction Edward had become, I needed to escape him as
soon as possible.

For weeks, different plans swirled in my head, but everything seemed impossible.
That night, with my dream of strange houses and green eyes, I had come up with
the idea. I knew Edward would have Garcia Lorca in his library. I also knew he
would never suspect my real reasons for wanting it. My father had read that
poem to me as a child many times, but I couldn't remember it well enough to
write down. If I could only get it to him, he would look for the hidden meaning
behind it. Expect my call, a silent call.

"I will make a ring of it…

The captive voice, far away."

Over and over I had tested Edward with my requests. Never had he denied me.
Was I to ask him to deliver a letter to Charlie, would he? It seemed likely. Of
course, there was the possibility that Edward had not been in contact with him at
all. There was also the possibility that neither Mary nor Joseph would ever grant
me access to a telephone or any other means of communication, but I still
needed to try.

Joseph and Mary had both proven their attachment to me, but it seemed
improbable for them to openly betray Edward. However, presented by the
chance, they might help me out. Twice I had witnessed a disagreement between
Joseph and Edward, and both times it seemed to be over me. Sitting in the
kitchen eating cookies, I knew it was my chance to approach Joseph on the

matter. He kept his word: he made sure the door remained unlocked, my door
unguarded and the path clear. He had even sent instructions with Mary.

"Twenty minutes after midnight, Bella. Ten minutes and no more, ok, dear?" She
had murmured while languidly brushing my hair that evening. "If you run into
anyone, just say you were going to the library to fetch a book. Both rooms are in
the same part of the house, anyone would believe it."

How I would miss her, I thought.

Everything happened so fast that morning it took a minute to dawn on me it was
my father's men who had come to my rescue. One moment I was peacefully
asleep in Edward's warm embrace and the next I was being led away and into
one of five SUV's waiting with the motor running outside the house. I was
surprised by the amount of armed men surrounding it.

My father had really gone to the mattresses this time.

I couldn't tell if Edward had been taken to any of the other vehicles, the same for
Joseph or Mary. I felt fear for them, fear for their lives. Fear for us all. My blood
ran cold at the thought. I was also feeling regret. Destiny had a wicked sense of
humour. After waiting for my escape for months, it came when I was no longer
sure I wanted it.

We drove for what felt like an eternity before finally reaching my father's estate. I
was not sure it had anything to do with the actual extent of time or with my inner
turmoil. I felt in a word frantic, on the verge of madness, and once again,
impotent. I had done this, and yet it felt completely out of my hands. I was once
again taken from my home, and made a prisoner.

In the SUV, it was me and two other men, and neither would even look at me, no
matter how much I pressed them for any information. I kept telling them about
Mary and Joseph, how they had helped me, how their lives should be spared. I
also reminded them of Robbie, whom I had not seen when we were taken away.
As for Edward, I knew I shouldn't even waste my breath. That matter I would
have to take directly to my father.

One thing I did know: he was still alive. I knew my father, and I knew he liked to
deal with enemies and traitors personally before sending them away to a death
he'd never witness. I prayed silently he had not changed in that regard. Perhaps
he was so enraged by anyone having hurt his daughter he had instructed to have
Edward executed immediately? The thought made me bend over in pain.

I was finally allowed to get out of the van and I noticed right away that none of
the other cars were in sight. The other vehicles, and the people inside them, had
either been taken on a different, longer route, or taken to a different destination
altogether.

I looked up at my father's country house, a place I spent many a summer in. Its
stone walls and high towers throwing menacing shadows over me. It was as if the
shadows penetrated my soul, forewarning the outcome of this bizarre twist of
fate. I walked slowly in, dreading the moment I would be reunited with Charlie.
Never had I imagined he would play knight to my damsel in distress. I didn't feel
rescued, I felt abducted once more. And I was the only one to blame.

Regret. Red, sharp and mocking.

I went inside to find Charlie waiting for me in the main hall. I was struck by how
worn out he looked. He looked tired and worried sick and tormented. He looked

old. I could not help but be touched by his appearance, so I let him engulf me in
his arms when he reached out for me. My head felt close to bursting with
questions: how did they get into the house to get us out? How did they know
what room we were in? How did they get past all the security? Where were
Edward's men? Where were Mary and Joseph? Where was my dear Robbie?

And of course, where was Edward?

Edward.

I felt the now familiar stab of pain in my chest over my lover's safety.

Before I could even open my mouth, my father had begun an avalanche of
instructions to the half a dozen service people that were surrounding us. Not to
mention began bombarding me himself with questions.

Frankly, I didn't want to have this conversation with my Father in front of the
house help. Also, there were issues I needed to resolve before talking to him. I
needed to try and sort out the mess that was my head. I needed to figure out
exactly what I was going to tell Charlie. He would want to know what became of
me during close to four months captivity. He would need to know the damage
done in order to decide on a proper punishment for my captor.

As this realization dawned on me, something else spurted deep from within me:
hope. This had to be the greatest harm ever done to a man like Charlie; it would
have to be dealt with in a special way. This might give me some time.

Even after this awareness, a flock of new issues dropped in on me. Did I want to
help Edward? Yes, that much I knew. But what would I do with him after getting
him out? What would become of him? Of us? Of me? What did I want with him?
Did I even really want him, now that he was no longer just a way to stay alive?

I was brought back from my thoughts by Charlie still waiting for an answer to any
of his inquiries. If nothing else, I knew I had to defer this first scrutiny.

"Cha- Father," I began. "I'm exhausted. I've been captive for over three months,
I've slept little during that period, I'm wearing yesterday's clothes, I'm barefoot,
hungry, and quite frankly, I'd like a minute of human time to myself."

Charlie patted my cheek the way he used to when I was a child and ordered one
of the maids to accompany to my room.

"Is it my old room?" I asked.

"Yes, it's still your room, Isabella."

"Then I know the way. Please, no more people escorting me anywhere, ok?" I
feared he would not allow it. I feared I would never recover my hard earned
freedom.

He nodded and smiled warmly. "Just come downstairs whenever you are ready.
Would you like anything delivered to your room? Chai tea?"

He still knew me. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks, Char- Dad." Just as I was
taking the first step I turned around hastily.

"Charlie, where's Robbie?" I said a bit alarmed.

"That dog of yours? It is already up there. I think it might have been sedated, he
gave my men hell when they brought him over." Poor thing, he'd be out for hours
then. Jerks.

When I was in my room and finally alone, I sat on the bay window to look out
into the grounds. The day had clouded over; rain would start falling any minute. I
had loved watching the rain from this window. I had once loved this house very
much. Yet my feelings were nothing like those dreams of a young and free girl.

Was I a hostage once more? It sure felt like it. I couldn't just go up to Charlie and
tell him exactly what happened during these past months. He would never
understand my feelings for Edward. I was not sure I understood them myself. In
all honesty, part of me was still livid at the rat bastard.

I felt as if I was being pulled in two directions, and I was beginning to split. One
part wanted to be free of all this and never look back, leave Edward and my
Father and this dark and corrupted world to rot on its own. And then there was
the other part, the part that desperately needed to be back in Edward's arms, no
matter what his actions had been, no matter what he was.

I scanned the room, perhaps looking for an answer hidden in my childhood
things. Everything was as I left it. The purple bedspread, my books, my clothes,
even my picture collage stuck to the mirror: photos of my friends from high
school all smiling for the camera, my old dog Rupert, my first purebred Talio, my
endless travelling, and a couple of old photos of my parents.

I had been happy as a child, and yet it all felt like a lie. Because behind all this
money and luxuries and pleasantries there had been a dark force which had
provided it all. Was that the life that awaited me if I chose a path that led me to
Edward? Even if I could convince my Father to spare his life and bless any kind of
union between us, would that make me happy? Going right back to where I
started?

I sighed deeply. I needed to get a grip on my emotions. Whatever kind of life
awaited me, there was one thing I was sure of: I needed Edward to be alive. I
needed him walking and breathing and existing. Even if it was far away from me.
So I was brought back exactly to where I began: I needed to come up with a
plan.

What could I tell Charlie? He'd think me insane to bargain for the life of my
kidnapper. I knew I very well could not tell him of my attachments. I couldn't tell
him about our relationship. He'd instantly ship me to Switzerland for the best
mental health institute. He'd blame it on Stockholm Syndrome and order
Edward's immediate execution.

You just need to buy him some time, Bella.

I jumped up and headed for the bathroom, taking my cup of chai on the way. I
showered and dressed in record time and was entering my Father's studio not
twenty minutes after.

Charlie was more than surprised to see me standing there, hair dripping wet.
Three men in suits were ordered to leave us alone immediately, and they
complied without as much as a word. I couldn't help but notice the similarities
between Edward and Charlie. Perhaps the difference was people like Mary and
Joseph, Charlie would never allow for such closeness from any of his employees.

"I am so sorry you got involved in all of this, Isabella." He took a seat on a
leather sofa and beckoned for me to join him. "That bastard will regret he was
ever born."

"Where is he, Dad?" I began, careful to keep my face blank. I knew I was easy to
read, but Edward's life depended on my ability to remain closed and impassive.

"What difference does that make? We'll deal with him." He reached for my hand
and I allowed him to engulf it in both his. My hand looked tiny in between his
massive hands.

"That man had me hostage for over three months in his house, Charlie. I would
at least like a word with him."

He inhaled deeply and looked at me with concern and something that looked
close to suspicion sketched in his face.

Bella, stay cool, you need to pull this off.

"I'm a little puzzled over what my men have been telling me about where they
found you." I knew he was choosing his words carefully. I wasn't sure how much
his men had told him in fear of his reaction. Perhaps they had hinted at it? I
needed to find out exactly what had happened and how much he knew, but I
couldn't show too much interest in the prisoner himself.

"Your men don't know what they saw," I snapped back.

"All right, Isabella, all right. I only care that you are here and that you are safe. I
do insist, however, that you refrain from any further contact with Mr. Cullen.
Please, just let us handle it."

"Charlie, I am not like you. The damage was done to me, however much you
suffered in the process, I must insist that I see him. I want him to know it is I
who is responsible for his present state of pain." I had to fight off the nausea I
felt over this last thought.

"Fine, as you wish. I will let you know when we bring that scum over so you can
talk to him."

"Thanks for getting me out, I take it you understood the poem?" I needed to get
his mind off the subject of Edward.

"The Little Mute Boy? How could I not? We expected your call from that moment
on."

I got up to leave, but just as I was about to walk out the door I turned to Charlie.

"How were your men able to get into the house so easily?"

"You should know, you had allies on the inside. I'm very proud of you, Isabella. It
was you who freed yourself. I only helped a bit."

I pursed my mouth and thought hard for a second. Joseph. He did betray his boss
after all.

"Is Joseph all right?" Charlie smiled as he realized I had figured it out right away.

"We struck a deal, and I gave him my word."

"Where is he?"

"Does is really matter? Bogota? Yemen? I'm sure we'll never see him again."

"And Mary?"

"Who?"

"Never mind." If my Father didn't know who she was, she was safe. "I'm going to
get something to eat and go to bed, Dad. Thank you again, I know you did not
have to help me."

"I love you, Isabella, like I love nothing on this earth."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"It's Bella," and with that, I left his study.

I headed for the kitchen in hopes that Sarah was still working there. Sarah, who
had worked for my father and his family for over forty years, made the meanest
apple pie. I was in some serious need of comfort food. I also knew something
else: whatever was going on in this house, Sarah would know. Had it not been for
her, perhaps I would have never found out my Father was a gangster.

As soon as I entered the kitchen, I was welcomed with a great big hug and a slice
of heaven. Vanilla ice cream on the side, just the way I liked it. I knew I should
be too upset to eat, but my stomach literally growled at the sight of food.

"How you've been, Miss Sarah?"

"You know me child, trying to keep that impossible man that is your father
happy," she said in her Southern drawl.

She took a seat and kept me company while I chowed down on my pie. It was
even better than I remembered. I couldn't recall being this hungry in a long time.
Usually, any sort of emotional distress made my hunger evaporate for days. I
supposed either I was more upset than I had ever been or I was just getting
older.

"We've been expecting you any day now, Bellie." Sarah, and only Sarah was
allowed to call me Bellie. Anyone else would have to suffer a most painful death. I
only smiled as a reply, my mouth full of delicious tart and cream.

She looked at me in a rather odd manner, as if she were scanning for something.

"What?" I ask defensively.

"Nothing," she smiled knowingly. "I can always tell when a woman has been
properly bedded."

I almost choked on my food. "Wha- How do you?- I never…No, what do you
mean?"

She chuckled and got up to start working on supper.

"So I take it the boy Edward did not treat you too badly?"

My mouth was literally hanging open by this point. I couldn't even utter a word. I
couldn't even sort out the onslaught of questions whooshing through my head.

Sarah approached me holding a fresh slice of pie. Placed it on the table in front of
me and making sure that none of the rest of the help saw us, placed a piece of
paper in my hand. I knew well enough not to ask further, not now, even when it
took extraordinary restraint from my part. I placed the folded piece in my pocket
and waited until later to read it in the privacy of my bathroom, the only place I
knew not to have 'ears' or 'eyes' in the house.

When I finally opened it, I was surprised to see it contained only two lines:

Blackheath Chapel

10 O'clock

Chapter 11- Precedent

I sat on one of the wooden benches waiting impatiently, the crumpled note that
brought me here held tightly in a closed fist. Whoever summoned me here was
almost twenty minutes late, and every minute felt like a century to my strained
nerves. The chapel was unlit except for a few candles near the altar. It was a
small chapel I knew well. When I was young, Charlie would visit this chapel
whenever he was in the downtown Chicago area.

As it was with most gangsters, especially the ones with Italian heritage, my
father was deeply religious. I liked to think of myself as a more spiritual person,
so even though a religion's strict structure didn't suit me, I found the notion of
praying quite appealing. Tonight I wished desperately I could pray. But I couldn't
very well pray when I didn't know what I'd be praying for. For Edward's safety?
For his escape? For a time and place where we could exist together? For Edward
to turn over a new leaf?

I'd like to think I was smarter than those people who believed others could really
change. I really couldn't find it me to hate him, even after everything he had
done to me. But it was one thing to forgive him and another to disregard his
actions and jump back into a life I did not want or need. I had to keep telling
myself he could never me good for me, that he could never be a beneficial
partner for me.

I sighed and tried to ease my unsettled stomach. I was feeling all knotted up, so
nervous it was becoming an actual physical ache. I felt constantly as if close to
tears. As much as I tried battling my heart and listening to my rational side, the
thought of Edward in pain was simply killing me. Was he scared and alone? Did
he blame me as much as I blamed myself? It hadn't been 24 hours since his
capture, and I knew I wouldn't have much longer to solve the puzzle of his
release.

I looked at my watch for the hundredth time, 10:25. I was going to lose my
mind. I shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat, making the wood creak, the noise
echoing in the empty space. I still didn't really know whom it was I was meeting.
I had an idea, but I had not been able to tear out the truth from Miss Sarah. She
had refused to say a word about it.

I still couldn't believe I had succeeded in getting out of Charlie's house. It had
taken a great deal of effort on my part, to the point of having to accuse my father
of keeping me hostage himself. Charlie insisted it was too dangerous. I really
couldn't see the danger. The man who had hunted me down last time was still in

Charlie's power, his right hand man was missing and as for the rest of his men,
there was an unspoken law in the mob world: captured boss equalled no boss.

My excuse had been to visit my mentor from Dartmouth, Danny Blanchflower,
who had moved to Chicago two years ago to teach at Northwestern. The excuse
had to be true though: I knew Charlie would be checking on my 'alibi'. Danny
turned out to be frantic over my having gone missing. In my apprehension to get
away and everything that had been going on I had, in all honesty, completely
forgotten about how worried my few friends must have been.

Charlie had made sure the police would be kept in the dark, of that much I was
brought up to date back at my father's. With the explanation of a 'mild
depression', the staff and faculty of the University had been informed I was on
extended vacation, and thus everyone who sought contact with me, had been
told as much. Danny had been among the few to suspect this wasn't true, as he
was the one person who knew my real identity and it's inherent dangers. I would
have never finally confessed to him had it not been for his tendency to press
incessantly for information and his ability to really keep a secret.

After arriving at Danny's, and after begging him not to press me for the truth, I
had convinced him to help me out by making sure Charlie's driver believed I was
still inside his house while I snuck out the back door. Fifteen minutes later, I was
walking inside the chapel.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought me back from my thoughts. A man
took a seat beside me. I didn't have to take my eyes off the altar straight ahead;
I instantly knew who it was.

"Is he still alive?" I asked quietly.

"He's still alive, but I don't know for how long." He replied in a similar lowered
voice. "You asking to have a meeting with him is probably what has spared him
so far." I couldn't tell what his feelings were from his tone. I wanted to know so
many things and I didn't know where to start.

"I'm sorry I made you betray him, Joe." It was as good a way to begin as any.

"I'm not, not entirely, anyway." It took him a minute to continue, giving me the
impression he was pondering whether or not to. "He was going to have you
murdered, did you know?"

My blood ran cold, my breathing coming to a halt. Joseph took his eyes off the
altar and turned over to look at me. "I told him I wouldn't take any part in it. For
days we fought over it. Whatever war we may have, you had no part in it and
shouldn't pay for other people's grudges."

"Are you sure, Joe? Are you absolutely sure? When was this supposed to
happen?"

"Tonight." He answered tensely.

Only this morning I had lain in Edward's arms.

"He said I was free to go if I wanted to, he said it just this morning." My voice
was so quiet now it sounded as if I were talking to myself.

He frowned and seemed to consider this for a second. "When Edward makes a
plan, he usually sticks to it. But I suppose he could have changed his mind and
not told me about it."

"What happened, Joseph? How did it all come to this?"

"You know where it began, Bella. It was you who contacted your father."

"Yes, with your help." I turned to look at him. "Thanks for that, by the way." I
wanted him to know I did feel grateful, I knew it was more than kindness that
had led Mary and Joseph to help me, betraying Edward in the process.

He smiled and nodded. "After you made that call I contacted someone in your
father's house to learn what the strategy was so I could work out a plan of my
own." He sighed deeply. "I was told Charlie was planning to kill Edward himself,
something others might actually consider a compliment. I don't think you father
has killed anyone since-" He stopped abruptly.

"Since who?" I took Joseph's arm to turn him to look at me. "Since who, Joe?" I
insisted.

"Since Edward's father." He looked down at his hands. "How much do you know
about Edward's past, Bella? Did he ever tell you anything?"

"Not much. He told me his Mother was dead, and that she had been a music
teacher."

"Yes, Elizabeth had been a greatly gifted piano player, even better than her son.
She was a wonderful woman, allegedly, I guess she just fell in love with the
wrong man." He stopped and seemed deep in thought, again hesitating to
continue.

"Just tell me, Joe. I need to know. I think I deserve to know, don't you?"

And this is how I came to learn of Edward's terrible past.

Edward Masen Sr. had been a young lawyer when he met Elizabeth while working
in a firm in London. Apparently it had been love at first sight. They were married
only a month after meeting, and nine months later Emmett, Edward's older
brother, was born. A year later, Elizabeth became pregnant with Edward and his
twin sister Alice. With such a growing family, Edward Sr. had made plans to move
back to his hometown of Chicago where a promising career awaited him.

His very first job involved representing Paul "Nino" Mangano and after getting
him out of a very tight situation, he had caught the attention of the Godfather
himself: Charlie "Johnny Boy" Francon. Edward Sr. had thus become the official
mafia lawyer, and they always needed a good lawyer. With such a steady and
prosperous income, he could afford a more than comfortable life for his family.

Elizabeth had been kept in the dark as far as her husband's clientele went. That
is, until his untimely death. The police thought Edward Sr. would be an easy
target, with a respectable family and a secret identity to withhold, they knew he'd
be easy to persuade into cooperating. Edward Sr. had been the reason behind
many arrests and many failed trials. Numerous reputed gangsters found their
way into prison during these times. It didn't take long for Charlie to suspect his
own lawyer and confront him.

The police had been right about one thing: Edward Sr.'s love for his family made
him vulnerable. Charlie's men had taken Edward Sr. one Monday morning while
he was on his way to work, and had beaten and tortured him for hours with no
avail. He had kept silent, insistent on his innocence, until a young Edward had
been brought before him.

Edward had been eleven when he was summoned from school and taken to an
old and empty warehouse on the outskirts of town where a bloody and beaten
man awaited him tied to a chair. With his head down in a near unconscious state,
it had taken a moment for Edward to recognize his own father. A pointed gun at
his young son was all it took for Edward Sr. to confess.

Elizabeth had been systematically terrorized for years after her husband's
disappearance by the police and the mafia, each pulling her in opposite
directions, each threatening and badgering and harassing. Only Edward had
known of his father's fate, but he hadn't the heart to tell his mother. He knew the
knowledge to be too much for a mother who seemed to be deteriorating before
his eyes.

All the family's money and belongings has been confiscated as part of the
investigation, Elizabeth had been forced to take on three jobs to hardly make
ends meet. The broken and persecuted family had to move out of their home and
into a one-room apartment in the shadiest part of town. Edward grew to hate
both organized crime and the people who persecuted it. In his eyes, they were all
just as guilty for his Elizabeth's pain and suffering.

"But then how, Joe? How is it that Edward came to become what he must have
hated the most?" I interrupted midway into the story.

"Survival," he seemed to half ask, half state. "Edward took it upon himself to help
out as much as he could with the growing debts. He became the protégé of
Carlisle Cullen, my former boss and infamous Irish arms dealer and smuggler. For
many years he worked in Chicago, but after Elizabeth expired to an undiagnosed
cancer of the lungs, Edward and I were shipped off to Russia where we worked
the border smuggling guns into Kazakhstan and China. After Carlisle retired,
Edward decided it was time for us to move back home."

"And you just followed him?"

"Edward is much more than just my boss, Bella." he took my hand in his and
patted it while continuing. "I love him like a son. I even owe him my life. We
share a very long past and a very deep hate for certain people, your father
among them."

I knew it didn't make much sense, but I was suddenly very angry with him and I
tried taking my hand away, but he just held it tighter effectively stopping me.
"Then why, Joe? Why help me if it would get him killed? How can you send
someone you love to their death?" I accused in a much harsher voice than I
intended.

"Well, like I said, I had a plan. I just didn't take into consideration a somewhat
volatile factor."

"What?" I barked accusingly at him.

"You," he answered in a deliberate tone. "The night of the party I had arranged
for your door to remain unguarded, as well as the service stairs leading to the
kitchen. I knew your father intended his rescue for the very next day. My plan
had been simple enough: allow an easy escape for you during an evening when
Edward would be home but occupied elsewhere. I knew that after I announced
your flight to Edward, we would have no choice but to make a run for it
ourselves. Without his daughter as hostage, there would be nothing to stop
Charlie's army from descending on us and executing everyone on the spot. I did
not foresee you going in the exact opposite direction and catching Edward with-"
he made an off-hand gesture to indicate 'the collectible' in question and laughed

softly. "You did quite a number on your room. I've never seen Edward so miffed
at anyone in my life. I don't think I've ever seen anyone make him lose his cool
and collected manner. You have an unprecedented effect on him. I thought he
would ring your neck after that little number, I never foresaw such an outcome."

I blushed knowing he had to know exactly what the outcome had been. I also felt
a shiver run down my spine from the memory of it. I don't think even Joseph
knew exactly how much I had made Edward lose his tight control.

Suddenly I remembered that it must have been Joseph to tell Charlie's men
where we were, since it had been neither his bedroom nor mine and it had been
close to noon by then.

"Charlie told me you struck a deal with him."

"I did, but I thought we wouldn't have to put it into effect. I thought we'd be back
in Russia by then, to be honest."

I suddenly remembered something else. "Is Mary all right?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Don't worry about her at all. The only person whose life is in
danger right now is Edward's"

"What should I do now, Joe?" I took a strained breath.

"I don't know, sweetheart. I know he is a shit head, but I am very fond of the son
of a bitch."

We sat side by side, my hand still in Joseph's for a long time. I was more
confused than ever. Part of me understood Edward's thirst for vengeance- my
father had taken everything from him. He had directly or indirectly killed both of
his parents, tortured his entire family and in a way forced him to become what he
despised the most in order simply to endure. And who knew what became of his
brother and sister. But had it not been for Joseph's and Charlie's tangled tactics,
would he have gone through with my cold-blooded murder?

However much I now knew of Edward's life, I still didn't know nearly enough to
explain his actions towards me, at least not all of them. Had it been only revenge
he craved, why not have me murdered in my apartment instead of abducted? I'm
sure Charlie would have been devastated. And why the possession of my body?
What did he gain by having me crave him? It seemed something had gone astray
in his scheme. It just seemed that something didn't quite fit, as it was now
becoming customary when it came to Edward.

"Joe, I think he's in love with me."

He looked at me intently before replying. "I think he has been for a very long
time."

Chapter 12- Trust

I stepped inside the darkened room. A metal door closed with a deafening clang
behind me. My instructions to meet Edward alone had been obeyed. Even though
they couldn't really consider him any threat to my safety in his current state,
armed men stood guard on the other side of the heavy-looking door. I could hear
water dripping into something hollow, and even though I couldn't see the source,
I very well knew where it was situated. The place was muggy, oppressing and

had a foul smell. No windows provided a clue as to the time of day. The only dim
light came from a single bulb hanging from the low ceiling.

I us ed to come down here often; many years ago when I was still a child playing
hide and seek with the help. No one could ever find me, not expecting me to dare
take cover in the gloomy underground rooms that resembled a medieval dungeon
to a child's eyes. I had spent hours on end exploring the place, making up stories
about a princess being held by an ogre, and her prince charming coming to
rescue her.

I never thought I'd play the part of the sappy, valiant prince.

There was a single piece of furniture in the room, a chair, supporting the lifeless
shape of a man. His hands were bound against his back, each leg strapped to the
chair, his whole upper body bent over, and his eyes closed. It was impossible to
tell whether or not he was breathing from were I stood. A pair of pants was his
only piece of clothing; his true coverage consisting of purple and red bruises and
deep cuts. Blood flowed freely from a particularly nasty looking cut just above his
forehead, blood dripped in steady drops that fell on his lap.

I stood there motionlessly, not making a sound, almost without breathing.
Whatever inner struggles I had last night, they were quickly dissipating with the
sight before me. I hurt just looking at him, so helpless and torn to shreds. I was
gradually starting to feel the fatigue brought on by no sleep and endless worrying
and deliberating. The rush of adrenaline I would have expected refused to come
and aid me on my feet. All I felt was exhausted and slightly sick from the
penetrating smell of his blood.

It had been a sleepless night. One of those nights where you toss and turn until
finally you give up and get out of bed, trying to clear your mind of such pestering
thoughts. I spent most of the night gazing into the darkness from my window,
thinking about what to do, thinking about Edward.

My father would have Edward killed no matter what I said to him, of that I had no
doubts, and the thought made me want to rip out my own heart. My only
alternative was to somehow help him escape. But did I really want to aid the man
who almost killed me once, and was about to attempt it a second time? I kept
thinking about everything Joseph had told me last night, trying to make sense
out of it all, and how it might give me some answers as to Edward's motivations
to his actions. But I ended up just where I began: confused and angry, angry
with him and my father and myself. The anger left me lost.

Edward abruptly coughed and inhaled in short, broken gasps, his whole body
contorting in evident pain. I breathed a bit more easily; at least now I knew he
was still alive. I took a few steps to get closer to him, my high heels echoing
against the stone cellar. His face moved up slowly and looked at me from one
open eye, the other so bruised and swollen it was completely shut. His face was
bloody and sweaty and he was shuddering visibly, either from cold or pain, or
maybe both.

"Hello, love," his pathetic attempt at a smile resulted in a new painful set of
coughs. I swear I could hear the blood pooling in his lungs.

"Joe is waiting for you. He can get you out and back to safety." I was desperately
trying to keep my voice calm and steady. I inhaled deeply, painfully, but it was
not my body that was hurting. "But I need you to give me a good reason to help
you."

"I'll not ask for your help." His voice was low and hoarse, and he seemed to linger
on the verge of unconsciousness.

"Why the hell not?" My attempt at keeping any control in my voice was fast
failing. I wanted to scream at him. I was suddenly so enraged. How dare he have
any pride left when he was stripped of every hope?

"You owe me nothing. And you shouldn't help me." His chin dropped to his chest
once again, and for a moment I thought he had passed out. I moved closer and
when I stood directly to his left he moved his head in my direction.

"Love the shoes, Miss Francon."

"Don't fucking call me that!" His only response was a small snort. I took a deep
breath to calm myself. I knew what he was trying to do: he was trying to make
me so enraged I'd forget any desire I might still have to help him.

Focus, Bella. You know what you came here for.

"So you want me to let them to kill you then? Is that what you want?" My voice
had at least regained some control. "This is your only chance to escape, once I
leave this room, they'll only return to finish you off."

He began shaking visibly, at first I thought it was either from fear or from his
body going into shock from the brutal beating, but I slowly realized the son of a
bitch was actually laughing. He stopped and looked up once more.

"Why wouldn't you want them to kill me? When exactly did you stop wanting to
do it yourself?" I stared at him with my mouth half open. "Come on, Bella, don't
disappoint me now." Of all the directions I had imagined this conversation taking,
this was not one of them.

"Here's the thing, love." He continued without much hesitation. "If you want me
to live, you're going to have to give me a good reason for it. You can't just help
me out of the kindness of your heart… again."

"What are you talking about? Have you gone mad? YOU are the one who is
supposed to beg for my mercy now! It is YOU who must convince ME! You are
powerless here. I'm your only means of escape." I stared at him fuming. I wanted
to shake him until his teeth rattled. I wanted to slap him until he began making
some sense. Was I trying to reason with a man too far gone?

He looked at me smiling and shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that,
Bella."

"Better than what? You have this backwards, Edward, it is you who is bound and
beaten. It is I who hold power over you now. It is I who will set the fucking
rules!"

He closed his good eye and breathed deep in what seemed something close to
contentment. "I love to hear you say my name. Have you ever said my name to
me before? I don't think so. Maybe in my dreams, and you are always in my
dreams," he sighed. It seemed he was speaking almost to himself, his gaze far
away. "Ever since I was a boy."

I was sure he could see the surprise in my face. I was sure the torrent of
questions was written all over it. Save his life again? Ever since he was a boy?
Who was this man?

"You don't remember me, do you? Ah- but I remember you well." He began
coughing once again, a thread of blood dangling from his swollen lips and
remaining there, suspended.

I was about to open my mouth when a loud knock on the door brutally brought
me back to where we were. The door opened and one of Charlie's gunmen stood
before it.

"Miss Francon, is everything all right in here?" He asked while eyeing Edward
suspiciously.

"YES! Everything's fine, don't come in unless I tell you to. I need more time." I
looked directly at him leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. He nodded his
head once before making a hasty exit and closing the door once again.

Silence engulfed us. It seemed we had but mere minutes before I was forced to
make a final choice. But I needed to know; it was perhaps my only chance.

"Who are you, Edward? When did we meet?"

"You were ten, and dressed in purple." He closed his eye and swayed a bit on his
chair. My eyes fell to his left shoulder where a deep gash was beginning to look
almost black.

It was painful to watch him speak; I couldn't understand how he was even
capable of it. He pulled instinctively at the restraints every once in a while, and
each time he'd hiss from the pain it caused. I wanted to release him, but knew
this conversation might go better if he remained held down.

"Your father had just murdered my father. Did you know that? Charlie himself
killed him, shot him point blank in the face. Such an honour…"

My stomach turned from the images his words roused. "Yeah, Joe told me," I said
quietly.

"Hmmm." He frowned, perhaps questioning when exactly this conversation took
place. "I'm thinking I need to have a very long conversation with Joseph."

"Let's leave him out of this for now. Go on with what you were saying." My voice
had become softer. I couldn't find it in me to be harsh under the choice of
subject.

"Yes, well as it was, I became convinced it was my duty to claim revenge. I took
the gun my father kept in the kitchen cupboard for the family's safety and headed
for Charlie's townhouse. This very townhouse." He laughed silently making the
blood from his mouth now stick to his chin, running down his neck. "Such a silly
boy, thinking I could kill a mob lord all by myself, just walking into his house and
emptying a gun to his face. I didn't even know how to get the safety lock open on
the gun."

I had spent the entire night thinking about Joseph's recount of Edward's past, and
not once did I think about the desire for revenge he must have harboured for my
father. How the hatred must have grown and rotted that young boy's heart. I
knew such hatred killed people - it killed their spirit and ate away at their insides,
shifting slowly into an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

"His men apprehended me before I even made it to the main entrance and took
me before him. Just as one of his men was about to beat me into a bloody pulp
with my own gun, you entered the room. You, you with your purple dress and

school bag, looking all happy and excited until you saw me being held by the
collar, a heavy weapon about to be smashed into my face."

I remembered that boy, his eyes still haunted me every now and them, the same
colour as the eye that was looking at me now. Green, how I want you green. I
had always thought the boy had the eyes of a fairy creature. I was sure he could
see into your soul.

"Charlie was furious, yelling at everyone for allowing you to come in at such a
time. Turning back to you, he tried to hide the truth by telling you I had been
caught trying to steal from the house, that it was only fair I should get a good
beating. One of the maids came in and tried dragging you away. But you cried
and begged your father to let the boy go, to let me go, no matter what I had
done."

I never knew what happened to the boy after that, but Charlie gave me his word
he'd go unharmed. Over the years, I had often wondered whether the episode
had ever really happened. Charlie and I never talked about it afterwards. I
suddenly wondered why I didn't connect that episode to my father's real
profession after I found out about it. It had been the first time I had witnessed
his brutality firsthand. And a brutality directed to a helpless and grieving child.

"What happened after?" I asked softly.

"Life. A very intricate series of events that finally lead us here." He shut his one
good eye and took a sharp gulp of air, obviously trying to endure whatever was
causing him pain for the moment. His muscles were strained and his skin
glistened faintly from the sweat and blood that covered it. I was surprised to
realize I was admiring him, I don't think he had ever looked this beautiful. Or did
it seem that way to me simply because this might be my last chance to ever lay
eyes on him?

"What happened to your brother and sister after your mother died?" My fingers
ached with the need to brush his damp hair out of his face, to smooth out his
tense forehead.

He took a deep breath. "My sister moved to Spain and my brother came with me
to Russia." I knew he was growing too tired to continue.

I could hear the men outside grow louder. I knew what was happening: I knew a
riot had risen someplace near the city docks and some of them were being
summoned away. I could hear their muffled arguments over who should stay. My
safety was not a concern to them. Although I'm sure Charlie would want his
daughter closely protected, I knew they thought I was in no danger from Edward
and there was no way for the prisoner to escape in his current state. But there
was the matter of who should remain to finish off the business at hand: Edward.
And for that purpose, only one man was necessary.

I smiled inwardly. Joseph had pulled it off.

I looked back to Edward whose head was turned in the direction of the door. He
must have wondered what was going on out there. Did he think the argument
was over who should kill him? We were both silent while listening to things
unfold. Finally we heard several steps walking away, growing ever fainter. I knew
at least one of them had had to remain behind, but it was impossible to tell.

My mind was a daze of questions I knew I had no time to ask. Maybe I'd never
have the time to piece this man's life entirely together, and perhaps I would
never know exactly why he had behaved the way he had towards me, why he had

decided I was the most suitable victim. But there was one thing I desperately
needed to know in order to make a decision.

"We don't have any more time, Edward. Things will be moving fast from this
moment on. Charlie's men are leaving to meet him and only the executioner will
linger. And I don't think he'll give us much more time to chat." I took a deep
breath and watched him closely, watched for his reaction to my next words. "Just
answer me this and I'll help you out of here." I waited for his sight to be fixed on
me.

"Were you really going to kill me?" I asked in a hushed whisper. I realised it was
such a futile question. If he wanted to live he could simply lie, whatever he
answered, I knew I couldn't very well believe him.

"You think you don't know me at all, but you may very well know me better than
anyone else, maybe even better than I know myself." He smiled again, broadly,
teeth stained with blood. "You know the answer to that, love. You can just see
right through me, can't you?"

I saw the pleading in his eye, not a plea to stay alive, but a plea for recognition.

"I will not beg you for my life, Bella. It's been yours for longer than I care to
admit, ever since you walked into that room looking like an angel. Do as you
must, I only ask one thing of you."

We were silent for a long time. It felt like I was holding my breath in expectance
of his next words. But whatever those words might be, I knew I had already
made up my mind.

Chapter 13- Escape

It is amazing the things the brain chooses to retain over time.

I knew the corridors and rooms in the downstairs basement as if I'd been here
only yesterday. It had been simple enough drawing a map of the place for Joseph
the night before. I knew the passages well; every room was connected to each
other by a narrow sewer system, but big enough to fit a grown man crawling on
his hands and knees. I calculated seven minutes from this room to the main
water system that would lead them straight to the river. Maybe ten dragging a
half dead man.

This house had been very old when Charlie bought it for my mother; just after
she had found out she was pregnant with me. I'm told Renee spent a great deal
of time remodelling the place and setting it up for my arrival. It was a three-story
townhouse, three stories and one massive cellar, situated just in the heart of Old
Town, near downtown Chicago. I never saw anyone go down there, although I
was sure it could not be the first time Charlie used it to torture a prisoner. But I
doubted anyone had ever really taken the time to explore it, not the way I had
throughout my childhood.

It had taken Joe some time to find the right vent, we couldn't know in which
room Edward would be held in when I drew up the plan. Just after Edward's final
words, I had finally heard the faint banging of metal on metal that announced
Joseph's arrival. My father's last remaining gunman gave us enough time. I
suppose he had taken me seriously not to bother us unless I called for him, and I

thanked whatever higher forces for that. I guess having a scary dad had its
benefits: none of his men would dare go against a direct command from their
boss' daughter.

Forcing Edward down a narrow passageway with what seemed like several broken
ribs and a dislocated shoulder had taken longer than I anticipated. And when I
say forced I do mean it in a literal way. Edward kept refusing to cooperate unless
I gave him an answer. He kept insisting I should let him face the consequences of
his actions, that there was no reason why either Joseph or I should help him. He
seemed to be convinced he deserved neither our forgiveness nor aid. By that
time, both Joe and I had concluded he was no longer lucid and simply ignored his
pleas.

After they had both disappeared, I managed to place the metal plate back to
close the vent and went back to sit on the chair previously occupied by my
bloodied lover. I tightly held in both hands the book Joseph had slipped to me
just before ducking back down into the darkened tunnel.

"I thought you might want this back," he had said. He'd been right. I did. Joseph
was always right it seemed.

Fifteen minutes passed. Twenty. Knowing Joseph, they'd be on a plane to
Morocco by now.

Edward had been wrong about one thing: it had not been the first time I'd said
his name to him. It had been torn from my lips in a moment of surrender and
dominance, as contradictory as that may sound. I now knew I had forced him into
submission as means to surrender myself. I could have sworn he had heard me,
but I had spoken it so low he might not have after all. Or maybe he was simply in
too much agony from his current condition to remember things clearly.

His last words still clung to me, but they were still abstract and isolated words. I
would eventually have to face them and their meaning, maybe come to a
decision, an answer to his question.

I looked down at the book in my lap and noticed a note in between the pages. I
read the few words written on it:

"Don't worry.

I promise I'll take care of him.

Be safe."

Please do, Joseph. I don't think I'll ever see him again, and he needs to be alive
and well just so I can keep a speck of my sanity.

I couldn't hold back the single tear than fell over my cheek and landed on the
open book, faintly smudging the words printed there.

"Because I want to sleep the sleep of the apples,

and learn a mournful song that will clean all earth away from me,

because I want to live with that shadowy child

who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea."

That shadowy child. My poor shadowy child.

I sighed so deeply my lungs hurt, like they couldn't hold oxygen in them
anymore. I felt like collapsing into myself. I had not thought this through. I had
not foreseen I would regret giving him up. I had not expected my life to cling to
him as he moved further away with every passing minute.

Edward.

I was not sure how long it had taken for the man outside of the door to suspect
something was astray, but I swear it could have been hours or mere seconds. I
supposed he had finally grown tired of waiting around, or maybe he had tried
banging on the door to get me to reassure him that everything was fine. After his
only constant reply had been dead silence, he had finally entered, gun in hand,
ready to take down Edward.

I do remember the gun being pointed at me, the barrel directed at the place
where the prisoner was supposed to be tied down. But it wasn't him who sat in
the chair. I saw the crook's sheer surprise, looking at the empty room except for
his boss' only daughter, her face streaked with mascara riddled tears, holding a
poetry book on her lap, sitting on a chair stained with the blood of another.

I knew he was shouting something at me, but all I could hear was a ringing in my
ears. Everything had started to slow down, become darker, and whirl gradually.

My body became heavy and limp. Warmth began at the tips of my fingers and
began moving its way up to my chest, making my arms tingle on its course. It
felt like death embracing me within her wings, and I was blissfully submerged in
peaceful quiet and darkness.

I woke up in my tiny childhood bed, with Sarah looming over me and holding
something cold against my forehead.

"You gave me quite a scare, Bellie."

"Sorry, Miss Sarah." I said, my voice low and hoarse. "I don't know what
happened."

"What happened? Well, according to Louis, Edward somehow managed to free
himself, tie you up and gag you, and make a run for it. Apparently the ties were
too tight and you fainted from lack of oxygen." She said in a calm manner.

"What? No! That is not what happened!" I tried rising my voice, but it still
sounded very raspy.

"For the sake of us all, let's say it is." She had taken what turned out to be a wet
cloth and was submerging it back in ice-cold water to apply to my forehead once
more.

I tried getting up and groaned when the room began spinning once more. Miss
Sarah pushed me gently back down.

"Take it easy, Bellie, just rest for a bit. Everything is going to be fine."

I closed my eyes and attempted to concentrate on the issues at hand. "Miss
Sarah, where's Charlie?"

"Your father? He is on his way. Apparently there was some sort of riot between
gang members up at the docks that kept him busy all this time, him and plenty of
his men. But then again, I think you know all about that." She winked knowingly
at me.

Joseph reassured me the plan would work, a riot between my father's men and
Edward's would be more than a good distraction, giving us the opportunity to
smuggle Edward out. Edward indeed had turned out to be an extremely powerful
man, and people where loyal to him even while captured. Joseph was certain he
could persuade Charlie's men to go with the charade, but I suddenly questioned
how much he had accomplished on that.

"Was anyone hurt?" I hadn't actually considered the possibility that our little
number might end in someone getting hurt or worst. I was horrified by my
selfishness and carelessness.

So much for your brilliance, Bella.

Miss Sarah smiled knowingly at me. "Don't you worry now. No one was really
trying to hurt each other anyway. I'm sure it was all dice and no slice."

"You have the weirdest sayings, Miss Sarah."

I was so tempted to ask her about Joseph. Although it wasn't really Joseph I was
concerned about. But I knew what it would mean, to speak my concern out loud,
to make it real. To make my sentiments real, the sentiments I might now have to
bury forever.

"Bellie," she said my name in a way that made turn to look at her. "The boy is
going to be just fine. Mr. Marino will take good care of him." She smiled
reassuringly.

"Who's Mr. Marino? And how did you know what I was thinking?" I could hear the
slight annoyance in my voice. "How is it that you always know everything? Can
you read minds too?"

She laughed warmly and pressed harder on my head, preventing my second
attempt at getting up. "First of all, yes, I know everything and I am always right,
that you should already know about me." I couldn't help but smile.

"Mr. Marino is your friend Joseph. I knew what you were thinking because
everything you think is sketched in your face, ever since you were a child. You
were the easiest child, never could tell a lie or conceal anything. And also,
because it is the logical thing to worry about, especially you being you and
constantly worrying for everyone's safety."

"Well obviously not enough! What good is it to worry after the fact?" I groaned.

"Honey, really, don't worry. I'm sure everything went according to plan." She
frowned suddenly. "What did you mean about being able to read minds too?"

"Oh, Edward." I felt a stab in the chest from saying his name out loud, like
somehow I shouldn't, like I had lost that right. "I'm sure he can read minds." I
made an off-hand gesture to disregard the absurdity of my statement.

I expected to hear her laugh at my nonsense theory, or tease me about it. But
she seemed to be pondering something over.

"What is it?" I asked.

"No, nothing. I was just thinking, if he can indeed read minds, as you say, then
he would have known about Joseph and Mary's betrayal and your escape, and did
nothing about it."

I was both stunned and bewildered by her comment. "That's impossible, Miss
Sarah. I was only being sarcastic." I didn't know if I was trying to reason with her
or myself. "Everyone knows no one can read minds." And if they could, why
would they still allow for others to fuck them over?

"Hmmm, yeah, I suppose it is impossible. But then so are many things that still
happen, don't they?"

You mean like falling in love with the man who captured, raped and was planning
on killing me?

Yeah, that's impossible right there.

I am not in love with him. Really, I am not.

Yeah, keep telling that to the crazy voices in your head, Bella…

My heart clenched from the thought that Edward might have known what was
about to happen and done nothing to escape or defend himself. It made no sense
to me. I just had to keep telling myself that read minding was a scientific
impossibility and that I had done what was necessary in order to survive.

But if he had known about Joseph's betrayal, why not beat him to the punch and
kill me? Had he really planned on going through with it? I just couldn't, or
wouldn't, believe he would have. But he hadn't really answered my question.
"You think you don't know me at all, but you may very well know me better than
anyone else, maybe even better than I know myself." I took a deep breath
remembering his words.

Jesus, Edward, what the hell is that supposed to mean? What makes you think I
know you at all? I don't think I've ever met anyone who was as much of a riddle
as you are to me.

Miss Sarah was about to say something further when we both heard the main
entrance swing open and several voices running in our direction. A second later,
Charlie stood under the arch of my bedroom's door, his face pale and worried. He
came over taking long but slow steps, and sat where Sarah had been just a
moment ago and took my hand in his.

"Isabella." He hesitated for a second. "Bella, are you all right? Louis was telling
me what happened? Are you hurt? Did the bastard hurt you… again?"

Before I could answer any of his questions he turned over to Miss Sarah. "Thank
you, Sarah. That'll be all."

Miss Sarah gave him a small nod of the head and turned to leave the room. Just
as she was about to cross the door, she turned to me. "I'll be in the kitchen if you
need anything, Bellie." She was gone before I could utter a word.

I knew I'd be seeking her as soon as possible. I needed to know everything she
knew. Everything. She might be my last and only link to Edward.

"Bella?"

"Oh, sorry Char- father. I- hmm," I shook my head from side to side to clear it.
"I'm fine. No, he didn't hurt me. He didn't even touch me, really. It's like Louis
said, I passed out from lack of oxygen, or shock, or both. I don't know." I knew I
was rambling a bit.

"But how did he manage to overpower you? We left him within an inch of death."
I cringed at the image, although I knew Charlie was very much right. I suddenly
wondered if Joe had managed to drag him in time someplace where he could
receive the medical attention he needed.

"Isa- sorry, Bella, did he have any help?" I knew he must have been suspecting
Louis. I didn't care about the man in question, most likely he was as bad a crook
as them all, but I knew my father's wrath and didn't think anyone in the world
deserved what would be coming if I allowed him to think he had been deceived.

"No, dad, no. He just- hmm, he just-"

Damn it, Bella, think!

"He just… made me believe you were in danger. And then all your men were
summoned away by some sort of riot or something, and I heard them say you
were at the docks. I was afraid his men had captured you, that he was telling me
the truth. He said if I helped him he'd make sure you'd live."

What? What a load of crap! He is never going to buy that bullshit, Bella!

I looked at my father hesitantly, searching for any indication of his thoughts. I
was astounded to see his eyes glaze over with sorrow and what I was positive to
be paternal love.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't ever worry about me." He kissed the top of my head, just
above the wet rag. "Just rest, all right? No one is going to hurt you or me, ever
again. Ok?"

He got up and called out to a man just out on the hall. "Make sure my daughter
gets whatever she needs, but let her rest."

I was just doing my happy dance in my head when the guilt started to seep in.
Poor man really believed me, he had no clue it was I who came up with the whole
plan, that it was I who had helped his mortal enemy escape. Turns out I inherited
his clear and cold mind when it came to concocting plans of treachery.

I took the cloth on my forehead and threw it on the nightstand, going back to
brush the wet hair away from my forehead. I lingered on the bumpy skin there.
The scar his men's "ministrations" had left behind the day I was kidnapped. It
suddenly dawned on me how we now bore that same wound, Edward and I. If he
managed to survive, he'd be left with a mark very similar to mine.

I felt the now very familiar pressure in my chest. The pain that surged every time
I thought of him ever since leaving my captivity. The pain caused by guilt.

I sat up and pinched the bridge of my nose. How could I feel guilty? I was sick
and tired of feeling guilty!

Guilty that my father had cold-bloodedly murdered Edward's father. Guilty that I
had allowed for Edward and I to grow close. Guilty that I still planned on escaping
even after wanting him and pursuing him. Guilty that I had successfully managed
to escape, sending Edward right into my father's vengeful arms. Guilty that
Edward had been beaten up so severely he might have lost his rational mind, if
he ever did really possess such a thing. Guilty that my father had worried sick
during my imprisonment. Guilty that he believed I was Edward's victim, and
nothing more. Guilty that he had believed it was concern for his well being what
had forced me to help Edward escape.

Why should I feel so fucking guilty? To hell with those two! They should be the
ones swimming in this endless sea of guilt until their fingers get all wrinkly!

And with that I dropped back down on the soft pillows and finally succumbed to
the dreamless sleep that had eluded me for almost two days.

I spent a week at my father's thinking frantically and failing miserably at trying to
rest. I was also keeping a close watch on the state of things. So far, no trace of
Edward or Joseph, it was as if the Earth had swallowed them up. Part of me felt
relief every time I heard my father yell on the phone scolding his men for their
'incompetence', and part of me longed to hear something of his whereabouts,
anything.

I needed to come to terms with the choice I had made. If I simply could not
return to the gangster life I had left behind, then I very much had to learn how to
bear an existence without Edward. I needed to keep telling myself that it would
eventually get easier, that I would eventually be able to breathe once more, that
the void in my chest would heal. For the time being, I simply had to make it to
the next hour. The fact that I knew that Robbie missed him as well wasn't helpful.

I even tried running through every one of Edward's harms done to me in an
attempt to help convince myself that it was better for us not to be together, that
no healthy relationship could ever develop from the way we began. But each time
I only managed to make myself feel worse. I was not very good at holding
grudges to begin with, and whether he felt any regret or not, I had forgiven him a
long time ago. So all that I was left with was this burning desire to heal and be
healed by him.

Miss Sarah had no news or information, and if she did, she was not sharing. For a
week I tried getting anything out of her, for a week I followed her around asking
question after question. I begged and pleaded and manipulated and went down
on my knees to no avail. She was a tomb. She was going to be the death of me.

She even went as far as to ask, "What do you need to know that you don't
already?"

We were sitting at the kitchen table, back at my father's country estate. Miss
Sarah was making chocolate chip cookies. I was eating chocolate chip cookie
dough. Robbie was in his usual state of peaceful sleep at my feet and I was
petting him with my foot.

"Miss Sarah you are giving me a headache." I said while rubbing a temple with
my unoccupied hand. "Just tell me, how did Joseph get that note to you?"

"He didn't."

"Sarah, I swear-!" But she silenced me before I could continue.

"Mary did."

Mary. I had not thought of that.

"We housekeepers have to stick together, huh?" She winked at me in her usual
fashion.

"But then how-"

"Bellie, the how's and why's and when's will be of no use to you right now. Tell
me this, what do you want?"

"I-" Jesus, it seemed I was incapable of finishing a sentence today. But I really
didn't know what I wanted. No, correction, I knew perfectly well what I wanted.
What I wanted was to drown myself in him and pretend like nothing else existed
or mattered. But I knew I was not willing to face the consequences of that choice,
to live with that choice. So I knew I needed to accept the decision of us living our
lives apart.

I looked at Sarah, sad and pleading. "I don't know, Miss Sarah. All I know is that
I need for him to be all right. And, - I guess… I just wish I could see him and talk
to him one last time."

But you know that the "last" time will always leave you wanting an additional last
time…

"I honestly can't help you, Bellie." She sounded sincerely sad.

I looked down to my feet, defeated, giving into the misery pooling there, but Miss
Sarah's hand lifted my face up by the chin.

"But I'm sure you can think of someone who can. There must be someone from
his past still tied to him somehow. Didn't the girl Alice come back from Spain a
couple of years ago? I thought it was because of her he had decided to move
back home."

Sarah got up and shook off the flour still clinging to her skirts, and proceeded to
hum and ignore me for the remainder of the evening.

And for the remainder of the evening, I think I could very well accept the fact
that I, Bella Swan, had simply changed my mind.

Chapter 14- Family

I can not imagine the shock of opening the door to your home one rainy morning
and finding a soaking wet, half frozen, smiling stranger holding nothing but a
book of poetry in her hand and a hopeful look in her tired and pleading face. Oh,
and a droopy eyed senior dog just as drenched as her owner.

I guess I'll have to ask Alice one of these days.

That afternoon with Sarah, I had reached a sort of catharsis: whatever kind of life
awaited me, Edward had to be a part of it. And so I had reached a conclusion: I
had to track down one Alice Masen. It had not been as hard as I originally
thought to start piecing together Edward's fractured past. On my own, I was able
to trace Alice as far as her departure to Spain at age 18. After that, it was as if
she had simply vanished.

It was Danny Blanchflower who had connected me with Mr. Jenks, a somewhat
shady lawyer who had the means and contacts to locate almost anyone. Alice had
lived in Spain for a couple of years, in Barcelona to be exact. As far as Mr. Jenks
was able to find out, Edward had never visited, something I thought was
inaccurate. I distinctly recalled Edward telling me he had learned Spanish in
Spain. What else would he be doing suffering the heat of that hilly land if not
visiting his sister?

Alice had studied drawing and art at the Davinci Escola D'art, after which she
developed an interest bordering on obsession for fashion. This passion took her
back to her native country and the School of Fashion Design in Austin, Texas,

where she met Jasper Whitlock, her future husband and a student at the
University of Texas. They moved in together five days after meeting. A year later
they were married at the Blackheath Chapel in Chicago, Illinois. Edward had not
been in attendance according to records.

It did not escape my attention that it was the very chapel where I had met with
Joseph, a chapel I knew well since I was a child. If Edward had really not been
present, could Joe have been?

After a short honeymoon in Greece, Mr. and Mrs. Jasper Whitlock moved to a
beautiful single-floor, prairie-style house in Oak Park, Illinois, a quiet little
suburban village about forty minutes away from the city. The house I faced that
cold and rainy morning was exactly the one Mr. Jenks had shown me from his
files, a house designed and built by the greatest American architect: Frank Lloyd
Wright.

It had taken the mere mention of her twin brother's name for Alice to take me by
the arm and drag me inside and away from the harsh weather. I was hesitant to
go any further than the entrance hall knowing I'd be dripping all over the
beautiful wooden floors and scattered rugs. Thankfully, this did not seem of great
concern to Alice's since Robbie had already deposited himself right in front of the
lit fireplace at the comfortable looking living room where Alice led me.

Alice excused herself but before I had much time to wonder where she had gone
off to, she returned with a pile of fluffy towels and a steaming cup of what
smelled like lemon tea. She sat us both on a large sofa facing the inviting fire and
simply sat there smiling and waiting for me to speak first. While I dried my
dripping hair and took sips from the hot beverage in an attempt to warm up, I
tried to arrange the thoughts in my head. I also took the advantage to assess the
woman before me. I simply could not believe she was Edward's twin sister.

I suppose she did have some things in common: the pale, faintly glowing skin,
the beautiful piercing green eyes, the full and pouty lips. But that's where the
similarities ended. Edward was over six feet tall, and even though he was thin, by
no means could he ever be considered a small man. Alice was somewhere around
4'10" and very slender, even compared to me, she would have been considered
small. Her brother would have towered over her.

I had a clear image of Edward stretching languidly and taking up all the space in
their mother's womb forcing little Alice to ball up tightly in a corner.

Stop being weird, Bella.

While Edward's hair was a coppery light brown, Alice's was pitch black, although
it did look as soft and silky as her brother's. However, every hair on her head
seemed to be in place, while Edward's had a behaviour problem, just like their
owner.

The most striking difference though was their demeanour. I think it had taken
close to three months for me to see Edward smile, Alice had this perpetual grin
fixed on her face that made her look like she was keeping a secret. Even when
she had opened the door to a complete stranger, the smile had been set in place,
and it hadn't waned a second since.

I knew she was waiting for me to speak, but I was at a loss for words about
where to begin. I had not thought out my plan any further than needing to get in
contact with Edward's family. Part of me had to face the possibility that I might
never see him again and that his memory would dissolve with time until he

became nothing but a ghost threatening to evaporate completely. I thought that
by seeking out his family I might at least hold on to him through them.

But honestly, I was hoping Alice kept in touch with him and therefore might help
me contact him.

Also, I needed help. I was scared and alone and was once again thinking of a way
to leave my father and his life behind. I did not want to get Alice or anyone else
in trouble, I just needed to… I didn't know what I needed. All I knew is that I
needed to be close to this person right now. I felt compelled to let her know who
I was and what her brother meant to me.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes. You are Isabella Marie Francon." She smiled knowingly at my surprise. "One
tends to remember the man who killed one's father, and consequently his
family."

Just like that, the whole story began pouring out of me with such force I hardly
took breaths between sentences. I didn't have it in me to lie or even tone down
the facts. I laid it all out just as it happened. I told Alice everything.

Well, I did edit the more disagreeable parts, like the manner in which our physical
relationship began. I though that Alice might want to keep liking her brother,
something that would become impossible after hearing about that. And being
honest with myself, I didn't think it was either relevant or anyone's business but
Edward's and my own.

I sighed thinking on that subject. It dawned on me how many issues were still
unresolved between the two of us. Choices we had made, things we had done.
Even without Edward on the run, my vengeful father, the gangster background
and existence, and so many other external issues that threatened us at the
moment, there were still so many terrible things between us to work out.

Alice kept quiet throughout my tale, only nodding or sipping from her own cup
every once in a while. If anything, she did not seem shocked, although I was
almost certain I was the first person to inform her of these events.

"So, how far along are you?" Alice asked bluntly when she had finally managed to
slip in a word, making me choke slightly on my second cup of tea.

To say I was caught off guard by her question was an understatement. I was
stunned into silence.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little too straightforward sometimes. Was it
something you wanted to keep a secret for now?"

I somehow managed to recover from the blow. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I know
what you are talking about." I said slowly.

"Fine, pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. It'll be impossible to
hide in just a couple of months, you know? Trust me, I should know, having four
of my own." She pointed at a picture over the fireplace. I got up and neared the
framed photo where four smiling boys surrounded their proud parents. Alice's
husband, the man in the picture, was a striking man with very blond hair who
looked intense and serious to the point of solemnity. They seemed to match
perfectly in the fact that they were a perfect mismatch.

I was about to take the frame with my hand when another one caught my
attention. It was an older picture; a picture of three boys in suits each holding a
violin. My body had not recovered from the shock of Alice's previous query when
it was already over taken by a second jolt. I knew that picture. I held the picture
out for Alice to see.

"Oh, yeah." She gave a joyful little laugh. "Christmas concert, we all played the
violins, me and my brothers. I insisted on dressing as a boy that year, everyone
kept teasing me about the super short haircut, I thought I'd show them."

Three boys. It had not been three boys; it had been two boys and one girl. I felt
the picture frame slipping from my hands just as everything started to become
blurry and darkened. Realization dawned on me: I had met Edward's mother. It
was her I had visited that day years ago.

Then it had been Edward who you saw in the hallway, Bella…

Next thing I knew, I was being led back to the couch.

"Bella, you ok? Bella!"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." I took a couple of breaths. "I don't know what's wrong
with me. I'm becoming one of those overly dramatic people that experience
dizzying spells every time anything extreme happens."

"Yeah, that happens, especially during the first trimester."

"I am not pregnant, Alice!"

"Fine. I'll get you a glass of cognac then. That should help steady your nerves."
She started to get up when I grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her back
down.

"Fine, you win, I'm pregnant. Can I have some more tea instead?" I batted my
lashes at her in a stupid attempt at being cute. She giggled and kissed my temple
and took my cup heading for the kitchen.

After I was settled with my third cup of lemon tea, I turned to Alice.

"I met your mom, I guess just before she died."

"Yeah, Edward told me, he was so angry. Edward had been obsessing over
revenge for a very long time, I guess having his enemy's daughter pay our
mother a visit did not sit well with him. He can be such a butthead." I would have
laughed at her last remark had it not been for the gravity of the situation.

"Alice, I was hoping you might help me contact him."

"Yeah well, I don't contact Edward. He contacts me. Whenever he can, which I'm
afraid is not very often."

I sighed, feeling close to despair. "Don't you wish he was a bigger part of your
life, Alice?"

"Yes, but I don't want my family exposed to his lifestyle. I do miss him, but in a
way, it's just better this way. We fight too much when we see one another. I just
hate how unhappy he is… or at least was."

"How do you know he is unhappy? How do you know his lifestyle doesn't make
him happy?"

"Oh no, that much I know."

"How? If you don't see him that much…"

"I-" Alice hesitated for a second struggling to find the right word, "feel him."

"You feel him?" I couldn't help raising my eyebrows. "Urgh, you are one creepy
family." I was surprised I felt comfortable enough to tease her. I don't think I
would ever feel comfortable teasing Edward.

"We are one creepy family? You are one to judge!" Alice giggled. "It's not
uncommon with twins. We are connected in a very metaphysical way, you could
say. Some tribes in Africa believe twins share one soul, did you know that?"

No, I didn't, and for some reason, the thought gave me shivers.

"Anyway, it's good in the sense that we are connected even when apart.
Sometimes it's really bad." Alice continued. "Two minutes after I lost my virginity
I received a frantic call from my deranged brother. It was NOT a comfortable
conversation."

"Oh God, that had to suck." I couldn't suppress a laugh.

"Well yeah, especially if your twin sister, who was born seven minutes after you,
loses her virginity before you do," replied Alice sharing my laughter.

We spent the rest of the day talking while Alice ran from room to room getting
everything ready for the arrival of her family. Jasper had taken the boys camping
and they were due back tonight. Alice led a truly wonderful life, one of those
peaceful existences that made you believe that joy and harmony were actually
attainable.

"You are staying, Bella., both you and Robbie. I'm not arguing with you about
this, it's decided. You'll stay here until you figure out what you want to do. And
even after that, you are still staying." Alice said when I told her it might be time
for me to hit the road.

"I can't impose on you like that, Alice, and I don't want to get you mixed up in
this."

"Well, you should have thought about that before hiring some private investigator
or whatever to track me down. If you were as careful as you said you were, your
father will not be able to find us."

"We still can't be sure, Alice. He is a very dangerous man."

"Oh, really?" She asked sarcastically. "You don't have to tell me that. I know
what the son of a bitch is capable of. Sorry, I know he is your dad. But anyway,
what am I supposed to do? Throw you out and let you wander the streets alone?
You say you don't want to go back to Charlie's and you don't want to go home
and forget Edward, so this is the only choice you have left." When I didn't reply
she stopped drying the dishes with the towel in her hand and turned to look at
me.

"You are family, Bella. And seriously, you are my brother's only hope."

I rolled my eyes. "His only hope for what?"

"Survival. And I don't mean the survival in the keep breathing sense, he has
heavy artillery for that, but the keep your sanity and soul sense. I don't think

Edward's experienced any joy in years. He was somewhat happy in Russia with
Emmett, but that all went to hell when Rose was…" She stopped abruptly, and
made a hand gesture to try and push whatever she was going to say away.
"Anyway, I don't want to overwhelm you, let's just say I've felt a great change in
him during the last few months, ok? And I know it's because of you."

"Yeah, well I've felt a change in my own life because of the last months as well." I
murmured bitterly under my breath. I knew that a small part of me wished my
life had never been crashed into the way it had by Edward. A small but nagging
part.

Two weeks later I was still a resident at the Whitlock's family guesthouse. On the
second day of my arrival at Alice's I had called Charlie to let him know I was
taking a 'road trip', just me and Robbie, to clear my head and distance myself
from everything. Too bad he wanted more information on my destination, I
wasn't going to give him any and I let him know that however grateful I was to
him for rescuing me, I would have never found myself in that mess in the first
place had it not been for him. He begged me to keep in touch. I promised I would
think about it.

I was growing ever more restless with each passing day. Edward had not
contacted Alice, and I was becoming very annoyed with her, every day she
became happier, telling me everything would 'definitely work out'. What the hell
was that supposed to mean? And how did she know, anyway? If Edward had been
in contact with her, she denied it. All I was feeling was stressed out and anxious.
This was worse than being held prisoner by Edward, I felt a victim to the
circumstances and I hated that feeling beyond anything I had ever felt.

I refused to become passive. I refused to sit around waiting for others to act.

Those were the thoughts I had gone to sleep with one night. The desperation, the
resolution to free myself yet again from a situation I disliked. I loved being here
with Alice and her wonderful family; she had become closer to me in only a mere
couple of weeks than any friend I had had in my entire life. But I wasn't getting
any closer to contacting Edward, and I was only placing the entire Whitlock family
in danger of being tracked down by Charlie. I could not bear the consequences of
that happening.

It was no wonder my dream began violent, oppressive, about angry rivers and
dark waters, one of those eerie dreams about supernatural creatures that crave
your blood. I was running through a foggy forest, the trees and clouds blocking
out any sunlight. I was soaked to the bone from the river I had to swim across in
my attempt to escape. And I was now running but I was too slow, they were
chasing me and I knew they would catch me in no time. But my body felt
exhausted and heavy, and before I could help it, I collapsed on the leaf-covered
ground.

And then the weirdest thing happened, in my dream, I fell asleep.

I woke up, still in my dream, with soft words being murmured in my ear. I turned
my head slowly and saw it, a fairy creature with butterfly wings fluttering around
me, his wings tickling the side of my face, my neck, and my chest. I felt soothed
and finally safe. The forest around me had become beautiful, bathed in colors of
brown, amber and golden. The breeze was soft and warm, and it smelled of
orange peel and sandalwood.

I closed my eyes and let the wonderful feeling of safety and love take over. The
tickling that began in my face started to make its way down my body, leaving a
wet trail behind. The butterfly wings where everywhere at once it seemed, on my

bare stomach, my breasts, down to my inner thighs and up again through my
arms and neck. I felt wetness on my lips, like an ice cube melting on the
scorching hot flesh. My breathing hitched and warmth began to involve me, but I
realized it was coming from within. It felt like I was a living flame.

The soft caresses where down by my feet now, and I felt my legs spreading apart
on their own accord. I wasn't sure if I had done that, I felt as if my body no
longer responded to me, only to the whispering forest. From my ankles, they
began a slow and tortuous ascend toward that place that was begging to be
touched the most. I could feel my muscles tighten with excitement from the
anticipation. I wasn't even questioning the logic, or lack of, behind the fact that I
was being made love to by nature.

Something suddenly woke me and I realized it had been my own loud moan.

"I thought you'd never wake, love." A soft voice greeted me.

I was so startled I actually gave out a panicked shriek. And after I realized there
was a strange body over me, I jumped up until I was almost perched on top of
the headboard. The room was completely dark, only a faint moonlight coming
through the windows, but I could still see the outline of a person kneeling on the
centre of my bed.

And this person was chuckling softly.

Edward.

Chapter 15- Reunion

"You were sleeping like the dead, Bella. I really thought you'd never wake." He
said with clear amusement in his soft voice. "Although now that I think about it, it
would have been interesting to see how things progressed with you still asleep."

I was still holding on to the headboard, paralyzed and questioning whether or not
I was really finally awake.

"Since when do you sleep so deeply? You were always so restless." He made no
move in my direction. He made no move whatsoever.

My eyes began to grow accustomed to the dark and I could now see the side of
his face illuminated by the dim light coming through the bare windows. He
remained kneeling down, resting on his ankles, hands on his knees. He was so
still and looked so pale under the moonlight that he looked almost ethereal, like
the statue of a praying saint.

"I'm sorry you were having nightmares. I'm not sure whether I was trying to
wake you or simply trying to make it better."

Make it better you did.

I had to admit I was touched by his concern. Perhaps he knew in how much pain
and anxiety his absence had left me in, only worsened by the fact that his
precarious situation was brought on by my own doing. The uncertainty of his
wellbeing had brought me close to madness. Alice may have felt confident he was
alive and relatively well, but I had very serious reservations on the matter. I was
rapidly learning never to question her uncanny, albeit annoying, ability to always
be right.

He remained quiet for some time, perhaps expecting me to say something. When
he realized I was still too shocked to utter a word, he continued, possibly thinking
the reality of his presence would slowly sink into my foggy brain if he kept
talking.

"You talk so much in your sleep, but you usually make more sense than tonight,
love. What was this about fa-"

But before he could continue, and before I even had time to think about what I
was doing, I had pushed myself off the headboard and leaped across the bed
crashing my lips to his with so much force I almost threw us both off the edge.

His lips parted as soon as they came in contact with mine, and kissed me back
with an intensity that made my insides shudder. My heartbeat became so loud
and strong I could feel its pulse at the tip of my fingers, it drummed in my ears,
it felt as if it might burst out of my chest any moment. He moaned into my mouth
and it took me a second to realize it wasn't a moan of pleasure, but of pain. I
immediately stopped the kiss and looked up at him apologetically.

"I'm so sorry. Where does it hurt?" I tried pulling away to check on him, but he
stopped me by wrapping his arms tighter around me, holding me securely in
place.

He chuckled softly. "Everywhere, but don't worry. Just be gentle with me, ok?"
The thought of being 'gentle' with Edward was both ridiculous and extremely
erotic.

I ran my hands slowly up and down his covered chest. He was wearing what felt
like a buttoned-up cotton dress shirt. The fabric was warm and slightly moist,
either from sweat or from the drizzle I could hear falling persistently outside.
Whatever the cause, it heightened his smell, making my head swirl. My mind was
still reeling with the realization that he was actually here, on my bed, with his
arms around me, smelling of musk and salt and heaven.

I wanted to tell him so many things, I had so many questions, and a couple of
extremely severe complaints, but every single one of them was slipping from my
mind like water through fingers. Nothing remained but the gratitude of having
him back and alive. My dream began making more sense suddenly, the feeling of
safety and happiness becoming very real.

There was an irrepressible joy bubbling from deep within my soul and it was
threatening to erupt and take over everything. Every cell in my body was
suddenly screaming to touch this man before me. My skin screamed to melt with
his, it was a desire turning into desperate need. Never had I felt such an all-
consuming need to be joined with someone, to heal and forgive and recognize
through physical touch.

I slowly raised my hands and took his face between them to softly trace the arch
of his eyebrows with my fingertips, the slight lump on his otherwise straight nose,
the sharp angle of his cheekbones and jaw, the raw softness of his lips. My touch
was so light, partially because it felt like the first time I was ever truly touching
him, but also because I could still feel the swelling and bruising from his recent
run with Charlie's men.

It dawned on me how, perhaps for the very first time, we were on somewhat
equal terms. I was not his prisoner. He was not a bound captive. I was here
waiting for him. He was here searching for me. We were both lost souls
temporarily sheltered in someone else's safe sphere of blissful existence. This
moment felt like an oversight by the fates, a temporary haven, and I didn't know

how long it would last. This realization hit me with such a force I felt like
weeping, I felt like holding on to him like my own life.

"I don't know if I can." My voice was raw and honest and begging forgiveness for
injuries not yet caused.

It was the absolute truth. I had craved and longed for him for far too long. And it
was not merely a matter of the time passed. I had gone from trying to leave him
and everything he represented behind in an attempt to resume my relatively
normal existence; to facing the fact that I may never see him again because of
either death or his need to never cross paths with Charlie again. It had been a
desolate and torturous road.

I simply wasn't sure I could do this without causing a bit of harm.

He thought about this for a second. My own feelings seemed reflected on his
expression, perhaps the same longing stirring in him.

"I guess we'll leave it up to Joe to stitch me back up then, huh."

When his lips covered mine again they were timid for the briefest of moments
before opening the floods of unrestrained passion. I grabbed the back of his
head, pulling him even closer, running my fingers through his soft hair before
closing my hands tightly and pulling. Once more, he moaned in my mouth, only
this time I didn't stop to check on him.

I began unbuttoning his shirt and slid it off his shoulders carefully while I still had
some restraint left, remembering there had been some serious damage inflicted
on his ribs and shoulder. He was wearing a bandage that hugged him tightly just
below the pectoral muscles. I touched it and looked up at him questioningly.

"Broken ribs." Edward confirmed.

He took my hand and placed it on his wrist, where it came into contact with a
hard brace that reached almost all the way to his elbow.

"Broken wrist. Three different bones plus a couple of ligaments."

He then guided my hand to the gauze just over his left nipple.

"Twenty stitches. Heated knife blade."

One by one, he recounted to me every one of his injuries. From burns, to stab
wounds, to beatings from several blunt objects. He said the worst had been the
waterboarding. It did not sound pleasant so I asked no further on the matter.
With every injury and scar another piece of clothing joined the pile by the foot of
the bed.

Finally, and still holding my hand by the wrist, he placed it on his forehead on the
wound that so closely would resembled mine.

"A blow so hard it split the skin open right to the bone." I traced the skin around
the dented tissue. He let go of my wrist and brushed the hair off my face, and did
the same soothing motion on my own scar.

I felt a single tear roll down my cheek, but as soon as it fell, Edward cleared it
away with his fingers.

"No, no crying, Bella. It's nothing compared to what I did to you. I welcomed
every one of these. They helped release the pains of my conscience." His voice

was chocked and pained. There might not be tears running down his face, but I
could see his eyes glistening in the dimness and knew he was holding them back.

I wanted to tell him I never wanted revenge, that I never wanted this to be done
to him, but I knew it was a lie. For the first months of my captivity there was
nothing I desired more. Not only revenge for the damages done to me, but for
the captivity itself, for the helplessness and impotence he had forced on me. So I
remained silent and returned to more urgent matters than past feelings of anger
and guilt.

By the time we had covered his last recount of the damages, he was in nothing
but his underwear. I took him by the hand and guided him off the bed and to a
standing position. I pushed his boxer briefs down his legs, unhurriedly caressing
his calves and thighs on my way back up. In one swift motion I pulled my t-shirt
up and off me, not caring where it landed. At some point during my sleep he had
taken my pyjama bottoms and panties off.

We were facing each other, merely inches away, but neither made a move to
reach for the other. The anticipation was electrifying, delicious. I could feel his
agitated breath falling on me and it made me slightly dizzy. For what seemed an
eternity neither one moved in the direction of the other. I realized we were both
waiting to see who'd make the first move, who would give in first.

He smiled broadly and placed a single finger on my lips. It was just a touch, but I
smiled in private triumph. He traced them slowly, the way I had done to him. I
parted them and took his index finger deeply into my mouth, sucking and swirling
my tongue around it. He pulled it out and traced down to my chin, bouncing my
lower lip in the process. His wet finger began a journey over my neck, between
my breasts and all the way down to my belly button, leaving a wet trail behind.

His eyes were fixed on me, fierce and hungry, like a predator about to strike.

His hands travelled to my hips and pulled me in for a deep, long kiss. Without
putting an end to the kiss, I began pushing him back towards the bed until the
back of his knees bumped into the soft mattress. And still I kept pushing until he
had no choice but to sit down on it with me still latched on to his lips and going
down on my knees before him. I spread his legs apart so I could place myself
between them and get closer.

The kiss was becoming more frenzied and heated with each passing moment, and
I couldn't help myself when my teeth bit down on his lower lip a little harder than
I intended. He took a sharp intake of air but made no move to stop me. Instead,
both his hands reached for my bottom and squeezed with so much force he
almost lifted me off the floor. I had a feeling that could not have been a good
move for a broken wrist.

When our lips finally parted I was out of breath and visibly shaky. I closed my
eyes and let his lips move to the edge of my mouth, my jaw, my neck. When
they finally made it to the soft spot where the shoulder begins, he bit down so
hard I hissed from the sharp and unexpected pain.

So I'm not the only one out for blood.

"Harder." I said in a strained voice. I wanted his teeth to break the skin. I wanted
him to mark me. Leave a sign behind in case he didn't plan on staying longer
than tonight and I began questioning my sanity in the morning. I released a loud
moan when he obeyed my request.

My neck was still pulsing from the sharp sting when his mouth was back on mine
and I could taste the metal of my own blood. Our hands were everywhere at
once, touching, claiming. I ran my fingernails all the way across his back, surely
leaving marks behind. I was somewhat grateful so much of his skin was protected
by the bandages.

Somewhat.

As much as I enjoyed his kisses, I needed more- more contact, more surrender. I
was still between his legs, and an idea occurred to me that was too inviting and
too tempting to pass up. I was only starting to bend down when he took my chin
effectively stopping me from going any further.

"No, don't." I could see a struggle in his eyes I didn't quite understand. I had
never done this to him, and I could see it in his eyes how much he wanted me to.

"Why? I won't bite down," I said playfully. "I promise." I gave him my most
devilish smile and rejoiced when he smiled in return and let go of my chin,
allowing me to continue.

I took my time teasing him, placing light kisses and playfully licks anywhere and
everywhere. There was never enough pressure in my touch and I knew it must
have been torture for him, especially since he did not take his eyes off me for a
second.

"Bella… urgh… please." His begging did me in, and I took him as deep as I could
manage without chocking, and with each stroke I loosened up my throat further,
taking him in just a tad deeper. By the time he was hitting the back of my throat
he was whimpering softly and lifting up his hips unconsciously to meet my willing
mouth.

I knew I'd made a promise, but like I said to him, I wasn't sure I could be gentle
tonight. Being deliberately rough, I used my teeth to graze his length on my way
up. He gave a loud moan and threw his head back. It was the most erotic sight I
had ever seen.

With closed eyes he reached for me, gently trying to push me away.

"Bella… I'm too… not like this… I can't…"

Form a coherent thought? I wanted to finish his sentence for him.

But I had to agree, as much as I was enjoying making him squirm and beg, I
didn't want it this way either. So I allowed him to lift me up and back to his
mouth. He turned us over so that I was laying with my back on the bed and
Edward above me. He used his good arm to hold himself up while nudging my
legs apart with his knees.

I had become so distracted while tormenting Edward I didn't notice exactly just
how excited I'd become. As soon as he brushed my entrance, the need between
my legs escalated to an ache close to pain. It occurred to me suddenly that had
he decided to retaliate, I would probably lose my mind completely. I didn't have
to think long on this before he pushed in me in one merciful thrust.

Grabbing my right leg by the calf he perched it on his hip, hitting me in a deeper
and delightful angle. His mouth was on my neck, doing wicked things that made
the bitten skin there come alive and sing. My hands reached for his and our
fingers intertwined. He lifted them over my head, pressing our chests closer, our
sweat mixing. His open mouth hovered over mine, breathing into me.

"Edward." I cried softly. I was suddenly consumed by a desire to let him know
how I felt about him. How I had felt for a very long time. It was as if the intensity
of my emotions surpassed the physical passion. I knew he was still waiting on an
unanswered question, but I knew that my admittance would leave me naked
before him. There would be no more obstacles or masks between us, and this
notion honestly scared me.

"Bella, please…" His voice was strained. "Just tell me."

I had thought about this matter incessantly ever since our last conversation. The
fact of the matter was, I didn't know exactly what had led me to grow closer to
him, to allow myself to be had over and over. During all those months of
captivity, I kept telling myself it was all about survival. I concluded that if he
grew attached to me, he'd find it more difficult to have me murdered in cold
blood.

Or at least I did not want to acknowledge the fact that it might have been
something else: that I had fallen irrevocably and unconditionally in love with the
man whom I had considered a monster.

"Bella, is that all it was?" He had slowed down his thrusts from the moment I had
uttered his name, and was no closer to speeding up the way I desperately wanted
him to. "Instinct of survival?"

Two things suddenly crashed down on me with a force that took my breath away:
first, he knew what I was thinking, right this very moment. And secondly, he had
known what I was thinking while still his prisoner. He had known all along.

How was it possible I didn't catch up on it the day he had asked his question at
Charlie's dungeon? How could he be asking me about my thoughts had he not
had access to them all along?

His slow pace was killing me, and so was his persistence to know. I was close to
bursting both in body and mind.

"Please, Edward!" It was a pained plea and I was begging for his mercy.

Later, I'll tell you later.

"Tell me now and I'll give you what you need." If it was possible, he slowed his
movements even further, to the point where I could feel him inch by inch moving
in and out of my already over-sensitive and swollen tissues.

I lifted my hips in a desperate attempt to take him inside me over and over, but
he immediately let go of one of my hands and held me still by the hip. Still above
my head, he now held both my wrists with one hand. It was surprising how
strong he was, injuries and all. His effort to keep this torturous pace was making
him sweat fat drops that began falling on my chest, burning my heated skin.

I couldn't take this much longer. He was demanding complete surrender from
me, and I knew I'd give in to him in not much longer.

"Just tell me what you want, love." He was panting just as I was. He slowly pulled
almost completely out of me, making me whimper in supplication.

"Bella?" His voice was a plea.

"Fuck," I cried out in exasperation, pushing my head deeper into the mattress.

What's the point to keep lying, Bella? He's known all along…

"Yes, but I want to hear you say it out loud."

I opened my eyes then and met his. They were full of longing and worship and
love. He let go of my hip and softly grazed my face with his finger, and I
completely lost it.

"You, I want you. I don't want anything else out of life but you." I finally cried out
in surrender. And shattered.

His mouth closed on mine swallowing my sobs. And finally, finally he pushed back
in me with a force that pushed me over the edge. I began climaxing in long,
trembling spasms that seemed to detach me from this world. Everything around
me melted away. Everything but him.

Chapter 16- Catastrophe

I must have dozed off for a moment, because when I woke up Edward was
weeping into my hair. My hands finally freed, I took him in my arms and
whispered words of love and comfort to his ear. I slowly caressed his back, his
arms, his hair, and every inch of skin I could reach with Edward still on top of me.
I waited patiently for his tears and trembling to cease.

When he finally lifted his face to meet me I couldn't help but think he looked like
a child, like a child who had finally found his way home after getting lost in the
woods at night. I rubbed my nose with his and he sighed happily. He began
caressing my whole face with his soft and damp lips.

It was the most sensual experience of my life. I could feel him still inside me, and
I felt a joining I didn't know possible. Our sweaty bodies felt glued. I wasn't sure
where my skin ended and his began. No longer about abandoned physical
passion, this moment felt like communion.

But as eternal as I wanted it to be, I could feel Edward's muscles begin to
tremble from the effort to keep himself from crashing down on me with his full
weight. So with one last kiss on my lips, he rolled off me so we could lay side by
side, facing one another. He reached over our heads to retrieve a pillow for me
and propped himself up on his good elbow.

Both our faces were streaked with the salt from our drying tears. For a long time,
we just looked at each other, lost in each other's gaze, our breathing and
heartbeats calming down. He was still covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair
was a battlefield of copper and cedar going in every direction, and his many
injuries and bruises made him look dangerous and vulnerable all at the once.

He was the loveliest sight I had ever seen.

"So you can read minds then?" I finally broke the long, comfortable silence.

"Yes." His hand reached for mine and our fingers slowly began caressing and
entwining.

"Is that why it always seemed like you could read my thoughts?"

"Yes, that and the fact that you are not very good at hiding anything." I playfully
punched him on the shoulder and was rewarded with a small yelp of pain. "Ow,
haven't you abused me enough for one night, my love?"

My love. That's new.

"So just like that, you know everything anyone is thinking?" I was slightly
embarrassed by the notion of having no privacy inside my head. I felt exposed.

"No, that's not exactly how it works. I can't listen to anyone, and when I can, it's
not always accurate. It's usually bits and glimpses I'll get. Like the general idea of
a thought, if you will." He shifted his weight then to release some pressure from
his injured ribcage. "But I've found out that the 'closer' I grow to someone, the
more I can hear them."

I was suddenly reminded of my conversation with Sarah the day I helped Edward
escape, when I first considered the possibility of Edward being a real mind-
reader:

"If indeed he can read minds, as you say, then he would have known about
Joseph and Mary's betrayal and your escape, and did nothing about it."

"You were not planning on killing me." I stated, answering the question I had
asked him that day down in the underground cellar. When I looked into his eyes,
he seemed to be pondering something over.

"How do you figure that?" He had begun drawing shapes with his free hand on
the curve of my naked waist and hipbone, avoiding my eyes.

"You knew I was planning on escaping. You knew both Joseph and Mary were
helping me out. You knew I'd pull it off. Yet you did nothing to prevent any of it.
You could have had me killed as soon as I came up with an escape plan." I knew
my voice was challenging, he was still not providing me with an answer.

"Hmmm, so you catch on quick." His fingers were now moving up to my arm,
down my shoulder and to my breast, and lingered in that last place drawing
circles until the nipple hardened. I closed my eyes and released a small sigh.

A second before I closed my eyes I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes,
something that troubled me. For a moment I though I had seen deceit, but when
I opened them again it was gone. All I could see was tenderness and adoration
reflected in the face of the man I had once considered cold-hearted and soulless.

"How clearly can you hear me?" I was trying very hard not to be distracted by his
fingers, which were still turning my body into a boneless pile of jelly. My eyes
were becoming heavy. My entire body was becoming heavy, as if an anchor were
pulling me down slowly, slowly, into a bottomless pit.

He frowned, perhaps thinking it over. "For the longest time, almost nothing at all.
It was only when you where yelling something in your head, I mean, thinking it
as hard as you could, that I heard you. But I can hear you surprisingly clear now.
Not everything or all the time, but I wager it's pretty damn close."

"Why do you think that changed?" His touch froze on my chest and he looked up
at me then. I could see something else stirring in him, and then I clearly saw it:
fear.

Suddenly it dawned on me, just exactly what he had done to force my mind to
open up to him. I became rigid with hurt and resentment.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry about-"

"No you're not. Don't lie." My voice was accusing and had a tone of finality in it,
but I knew it lacked the fury that should have been there. I also knew his apology
would only insult me, make me feel like the victim I refused to become.

"It's not… I was not… It wasn't merely about… I didn't know how…" He stopped
and closed his eyes, trying to rearrange his thoughts. He groaned in
exasperation, running his hand through his chaotic hair, and when he opened up
his eyes again, he looked sad and frightened. "I thought I had my reasons." He
said slowly and tenderly, trying to soothe me with his voice.

I supposed it was the closest thing to an explanation I would get, at least for
tonight. And in all honesty, I no longer wished to talk about the matter. It was
clear that the deeper we dug into it, the more I would question his intentions and
actions, and that could only result in making me bitter and angry. I did not want
to fight him, not now when his presence was still so precarious.

"I love you." His voice was so low that for a moment I thought I must have
imagined it.

"Please don't say that," I replied almost as softly. It was my turn to start drawing
lazy figures on his skin, starting from his arm and going up to his neck and chest.
Perhaps saying through touch what I dare not say out loud. His skin was
hypnotizing. I was hit with a new and entirely stronger wave of drowsiness.

"Why not?" He looked sincerely surprised.

"I'm not ready for you to love me. Or rather, I'm not ready to have you say it to
me." This made me a bit sad, but I just didn't feel like we were in a place where
we could trust a feeling like love. Love for me is supposed to be calm, serene,
cemented on everyday contact and dealings. Amidst all this violence and fear and
suspense, and pasts filled with pain and sorrow, where could love truly fit? We
were holding on to each other as a means to survive. For the time being, we were
each other's oxygen.

"We'll wait, Edward. We'll wait to love when we are not running away and we are
not afraid for our lives… and there's no more…"

I realized I was starting to fall asleep. The line between reality and dreams was
starting to blur. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to keep them from closing.

"Bella, just sleep, my love."

"No, I don't want you to go, and I know you'll go as soon as I fall asleep." I felt
the sting of arising tears, but my eyes were already closing and I knew it was a
lost cause. Sleep was dragging me away, and it was like fighting the tide; it
would come no matter how much I struggled.

"Well, not right away. I like watching you sleep." I smiled at him and reached
blindly for his hand, which he took instantly. I had a hope that if I held on to his
hand I'd wake if he tried to release it.

I wasn't ready to let him go. A dread was spreading all the way into the deepest
core of my soul. I had no idea when and if I'd ever see him again, and I didn't
trust destiny to just set him back on my path.

There were still so many things to discuss. No matter how happy I was that our
feelings were finally out in the open, that I would no longer battle my own or
question his, I still didn't know how and if we could ever make this work. And
somewhere in the back of my hazy brain I knew there was something that

needed immediate consideration, but I was struggling to bring it back to the
surface.

"Edward," My voice was groggy and distant. It felt like I was leaving my voice
and body behind. "I have something… I need… to tell you… I…"

"Shhhh, don't try to open your eyes. Just let go. Let the dreams come. You'll be
safe here, Alice will take care of you, I promise…"

I knew he was still talking somewhere far away, I knew because the fairy was
back and it was whispering wonderful words of devotion and comfort to me. I was
in my warm and inviting and safe forest, and I just couldn't find it in me to
remember what was so damn important to tell him…

It wasn't until I opened my eyes to a room filled with sunlight that I remembered
what I so desperately needed to tell Edward. Of course he was gone. All that
remained was the scent of my long gone lover and a bite mark that made me
flinch from pain when I rolled out of bed. I ran both my hands through my hair
and pulled at the roots in exasperation.

"Damn it, Bella!" I began pacing back and forth across the sun-bathed room,
almost stumbling over Robbie who was still asleep by the window. It looked like
early morning. "Fuck! How could you forget?"

Alice. I knew I needed to find Alice and force whatever she knew about her
brother's whereabouts out of her. Edward had not mentioned any future visits. He
had made no promises whatsoever. A sinking feeling began to grow in my
stomach. What if he had no plans to return at all? I was absolutely certain Charlie
was still after him. Would he risk a second visit and lead my dad's men right to
his sister's family?

No. That much I knew.

I was suddenly very mad both at him and myself. I was mad at him for leaving
without giving me any type of resolution to our current situation, and at me for
letting him leave without giving one.

Urgh!

I got dressed as quickly as I could, not bothering to shower, pulled my hair back
in a messy ponytail and ran out of the cottage for the main house in search of my
host and friend. I entered the house through the kitchen door and found Alice
already sitting there, reading the paper and sipping on a cup of coffee.

"Made some for you too if you'd like to pour yourself a cup, hun." She didn't look
up from her paper: her demeanour surprised me. She seemed too… normal.

She didn't know about Edward's visit.

I sat down slowly on the counter facing Alice, trying to think of a way to break it
to her that her brother had paid me a visit last night. I was about to open my
mouth when Alice finally put down the paper and looked at me.

"So, how did it go? Was it passionate and animalistic or sweet and tender?""" She
smiled a mischievously reminding me of a teenager gossiping in the locker room
about a hot date with her best friend.

"Ewwww, Alice. That is really creepy. He is your brother!"

"Yeah, but he's my twin brother," she replied making a dismissive gesture with
her hands. "It's like you're talking about one of my arms, or one of my internal
organs."

"Alice, that's even creepier." As much as I wanted to discuss in further detail the
intricate weirdness of Edward's family, I really needed to get to the part of how
the hell had Edward found out I was here and when could I expect a follow-up
reunion. "But I digress. Alice, how did you know Edward was here?"

"I had a vision of Edward walking under the pale moon light, with icy rain
dripping from his hair, gazing longingly at your distant window, while you waited
for him with abandoned passion burning your loins, wearing nothing but a very
indecent nightgown." She said eerily, in the stance of a carnival's phony fortune-
teller.

"Huh?"

"You are sporting the mother of all hickeys on your neck." She stated matter-of-
factly and pointed at my bruised neck. She laughed when my hand immediately
went up to try and hide it. "Not to mention the fact that you reek of him.
Seriously Bella, shower after sex. Always shower after sex!"

I swore my face would burst from blushing so furiously, something that made
Alice laugh even harder. I then realized I seriously did not want Jasper to join
Alice in her teasing and bantering over my fierce love life. My face could not
handle it.

"Oh no, Alice, is Jasper or the kids around?" I was about to run out the door, but
Alice took my hand and beckoned me to sit back down.

"Don't worry. They've been gone for hours. I desperately wanted to wake you. I
was dying to get some details. But I figured you were due some rest." For
someone who was dying to know, she played it pretty cool. I had the coolest
sister in law ever.

Sister in law? Where did that come from, Bella?

"So, tell me what happened? I mean, besides the ear-splitting crazy lotta lovin'."

"You could hear us?"

"Honey, my ninety year old deaf neighbour heard you. I thought he was killing
you in there. And by the look of that bite, I guess he came close to trying."

"Urgh." I took my head in my hands and groaned. I felt beyond mortified.

Alice, however, did not have time for my humiliation.

"Stop that! Who cares? So you are a screaming banshee and my brother's a
vampire, every family has its share of weirdos."

I laughed out loud. Maybe I fitted into Edward's bizarre family better than I cared
to believe.

"So, tell me, how did it go? Did you guys talk all night?" She just had to jump
right on that one, didn't she?

"Hmm, well, we did talk. A bit. But then," I bit my lip before continuing, "I sort of
fell asleep." I finished as rapidly as I could.

"He wore you out, huh? That happens. But you did talk about what you are going
to do, right?"

"Hmm, no?" I was so hesitant it came out sounding like a question. Alice looked
at me unbelieving.

"Did you tell him about the baby?"

"No?"

"Did you talk about getting married? Moving the hell away from your father?
About how the hell you two are going manage being together and raising a
family?"

"No?"

"Bella! What the hell? What did you do then?"

"Hmm, you know..." I made a hand gesture to point out we had already covered
the topic.

"Bella!" She tried to sound annoyed but there was a faint smile she couldn't
suppress.

"Well, it's not as easy as you may think, Alice. I don't know what the hell I want
out of all of this. Trust me, it was a big first step for us to just acknowledge that
we love one another and want to be together. Figuring out how the hell to
actually do that is an entirely different thing."

"But why didn't you tell him about the baby?"

"I was too busy with other matters, Alice. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I
honestly forgot!"

"You forgot? How can you forget the fact that you have a human being growing
inside your tummy? Bella, sweetie, what could you have been thinking that was
more important than that? What ever went on in that room?"

I sighed defeated. "It's complicated."

"What is so complicated, Bella? So you fell in love with your father's greatest
enemy. So your father killed his father. I know there is a ton of shit from both
your pasts, but it really has little to do with you two personally. You are both
victims here." She smiled at me sympathetically. "I know it might be a tad
unconventional, but what relationship doesn't have their issues?"

"A tad unconventional?" I laughed with a bit of sarcasm in my voice.

"Oh, come now, I'm sure there are couples who have it weirder." She seemed to
think this over, and then replied almost to herself, "there has to be at least one
out there, right?" We both laughed.

"Sure Alice, so when our child asks me how his parents met, I'll just tell him his
daddy abducted, beat and raped his mommy, before they fell deeply and
permanently in love, and lived happily ever after."

Have you ever said something you'd actually give your life to take back? I have,
that morning, in Alice's kitchen. I had told Alice my story, but I had breezed over
how exactly I ended up being Edward's "houseguest", or how badly I was beaten
when seized, or the fact that her brother had forced himself on me.

And I saw it in Alice's eyes then: the surprise, the shock, the disgust, and the
absolute devastation. And I simply stood there while everything around me fell to
pieces.

Chapter 17- Fare well

Alice spent the reminder of the morning displaying every sour human emotion,
from disbelief to anger, from disgust to sorrow. She went from screaming, to
crying, to declaring her undying hatred for her brother, to questioning my sanity,
to not speaking to me at all. She had periods of both standing unmoving and
stone cold for minutes at a time, to running from room to room slamming doors
after herself.

I spent the reminder of the morning chasing Alice around the house and running
to the nearest sink or toilet about every fifteen minutes. It was not the best day
to start with morning sickness. I felt both physically and morally exhausted. All I
could do was follow Alice and wait for the initial shock to wear off in hopes she'd
allow me to somehow explain the unexplainable, or the unpardonable, while
berating myself over and over for my massive blunder.

Noon was near when I simply couldn't keep a vertical position any longer and
retired to my room to lay down. Alice had locked herself in Jasper's studio by this
time and it was over an hour since the last time she uttered a single word
directed at me. She had directed several very rude expressions to both the
heavens and hell. Thankfully, she had made no allusions about wanting me gone.
I knew Alice would eventually talk to me. I just wasn't sure how long that would
take.

My room felt empty and lonely, but the silence was a welcomed relief to my
strained nerves and aching head. I was lying on my side trying to swallow a new
wave of nausea when I noticed my Garcia Lorca poetry book on the nightstand. I
was absolutely sure I had left it on the small desk by the window where I'd been
trying to read last night.

I reached for the book and as I lifted it, I noticed a letter that had been stuck
between the pages. I opened the book and took out a bare and closed envelope.
As I opened it, I recognized the stationary immediately: it was the stationary
Alice kept at the desk in this very room. She had offered it to me in case I
decided to drop Charlie a note letting him know I was all right. Alice's gift to
either forgive or forget was astounding. I only hoped it extended to her brother.

I sat up and stared blankly at it for an eternity as my insides filled with dread.
This was the bearer of ill news, I knew it. I saw doom, dark and approaching.
Edward's elaborate handwriting adorned the overcrowded pages. How long did it
take him to write this? There was hardly any space between each line, the pages
were written on both sides, and there were four of them.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to keep the panic at bay, and began reading.

My beloved Bella,

This is not a letter of apology. I feel that if I were to start apologizing to you I
would never stop. I've wronged you too often and in too many ways. But above
all others, I've wronged you by allowing your feelings for me to grow and

strengthen. For that, I will never forgive myself and will gladly face the blazing
flames of hell.

I am unworthy of you, I never was and I firmly believe I never could be. You
deserve someone good, someone kind and decent. Someone like you. More than
anything, you deserve a partner who's brave, not a coward like me, sneaking in
and out of your bedroom window in the middle of the night, like a thief cloaked
by the darkness. The same way I've sneaked in and out of your life, uninvited
and unwelcomed.

I don't know why I came to you tonight. All I know is that being the terribly
selfish creature that I am, I needed to see you one last time. Not that it really
matters, but if you'd like to know how I knew where you were- well, everyone
knows. Charlie knows. We made a pact not to contact you, so much for pacts in
the mafia. But don't worry, you'll be left alone from now on, I promise. This is
your opportunity to leave all of this, all of us, behind and return to your serene
and comfortable existence.

Please know that I did not intent for my visit to go as it did. I don't know what it
is that I was hoping would happen, but certainly I did not intend for us to grow
closer still only for me to leave yet again, this time for good. I told myself I
wouldn't wake you, I'd let you sleep, only take in the sight of you and leave a
small token of my feelings for you behind.

But there you were, restless in your nightmarish sleep, troubled and sad and
begging to be comforted. The whole room was permeated with your scent, your
presence was too close, too tempting, too inviting. And there were so many
things I needed to tell you, and so many things I needed to hear from you. I
desperately wished the world around us would fade away, for it all to disappear.
It was only too easy to pretend it had with that first touch of my lips on your
warm skin.

But the world is still around us. My demons are still clawing their way to the
surface and I need to purge them once and for all. My past, my wrongs and sins,
are still there and you need to know. You need to know the depth of my darkness
so you can be free of it and live an unbound life. A life filled with happiness and
joy, a life filled with light.

You know thru Joseph and me certain episodes from my past. There are still,
however, many things you don't know. I feel its only right you do. Do you recall
the day you saved my life while still a boy? I think it was the very first time you
ever took notice of me, but it was not the first time I noticed you. You may not
remember this, but we both attended St. Benedict's. I was several grades ahead
of you, I was quiet and shy and awkward and a perpetual outsider. You, on the
other hand, were the sun around which everything rotated.

I had known what my father did for a living for as long as I can remember, and
so naturally I knew who my father's main client was. I resented you for not being
bothered by this knowledge the way I was. I struggled daily with the shame of
who my father was, and so I couldn't understand how you could go about your
day as if nothing. Little did I know you were truly unaware of such
unpleasantries. To my clouded eyes, it seemed you were happy playing the part
of the spoiled little princess.

Your mind was closed to me, and it took me some time to actually figure that out.
For the longest time I simply dismissed it as a lack of deep thoughts on your part.
I figured you were so shallow your mind reflected little. I was a smug child, I was
born thinking I knew better than everyone else, and my special ability did nothing

to help my over inflated ego. I misjudged you and kept doing it, even after the
day you saved my life.

That very day, was the first time I got a glimpse inside your head. You were
thinking I was a fairy creature with magical eyes that could see through anything.
The gates had somehow opened with that loud 'no!' you released when your
father's men were about to bring down their first blow on me. You were
screaming for them to stop, both with your voice and your mind, and for those
short moments, I was allowed inside.

Amongst all our peers and teachers, my parents and siblings, almost anyone I
had ever encountered, you were the only one whose mind was completely
cloaked to me. I know you think of me as a perceptive person, someone who can
see beyond people's facades. Let me tell you that without my gift, I turned out to
be a massive incompetent at grasping a person's true character, at least when it
came to you. I wholly misread you.

It shames me to admit I thought of you as a snob, a brat, a careless and shallow
being who cared not who her father grieved or hurt, as long as she led her life of
vanity and ignorance. I completely misjudged you, and even when faced with
proof that my accusations were completely erroneous, I was too proud to admit
my mistake. I came to the unjust conclusion that you had saved me for reasons
other than simple kindness.

Shortly after my father was murdered, the entire family had to move. We could
no longer afford our lifestyle, and this included private education. We had no
choice but to transfer to a public school where we were treated suspiciously at
best, and with pity at worst. Our father's case had been made very public by the
media and there was nowhere to escape the gossip and judgment. Shy of sixteen
I graduated high school and I was grateful to leave that purgatory behind.

But even when I had no real reason and was dishonest about my true motives, I
went back to St. Benedict's almost every day just to see you. My excuse was to
keep an eye on your mind, which seemed to have closed back up after that day.
In reality, I simply couldn't shake you off. That glimpse inside your mind had
turned out to be addictive. I was given a taste of who you were and I was
inescapably drawn. My one resentment was that you showed no sign of having
been changed by the experience. You simply went on as you always had, your
face and mind back to its blank slate.

The second time we met face to face was at my mother's house years after our
first meeting. Unfortunately, it was also the second time I was allowed inside
your mind. I hadn't known you'd been in contact with her and so I was
completely taken aback to bump into you in the hallway as you were leaving. I
have to admit my pride was hurt when I realized you didn't recognize me. I
bitterly realized I had no relevance whatsoever in you life, I was merely a whim
you expected your father to comply with that day long ago. But more than
anything, I was enraged at your thoughts.

The day you left my mother's house, I went from thinking you were shallow and
spoiled, to thinking you were truly your father's daughter: a perverse creature
with no care for anyone but herself. Your thoughts were so loud it was as if you
were shouting these things at me. Do you remember what you were thinking?
Knowing what I now know of you, I know it was a defense mechanism. I now
know how terribly hard it must have been for you to learn the truth about your
father, how you must have struggled to make sense of his actions. How blaming
others must have been the only alternative.

I was a hypocrite. Even though I myself judged my father for his choices, I
couldn't handle seeing those thoughts reflected in your mind. The girl to whom I
owed my life, her mind screaming how my father must have deserved his
fortune. I was furious beyond anything. How dare you visit my mother only to
patronize her loss and belittle the injustice of my father's fate? My hatred was
only fueled by the grief of loosing Elizabeth only a few months after.

But even after this episode, I still kept following you from a distance, trying to
figure out the true motives behind your actions. You still seemed somehow cold
and detached, but every once in a while you did something that made me think
you were neither, and I hated the conflict these feeling arouse in me. However,
three years had gone by since you had found out about your father, and still you
were living under his roof.

I was sure I must have been right all along. You simply didn't care.

When you finally left Charlie's house, I was already living in Russia and had
changed my last name from Masen to Cullen in an attempt to protect my siblings.
After my ridiculous attempt to avenge my father, a very interesting phenomenon
happened, I became a sort of legend: The boy who had tried to kill the mob lord.
It was laughable, I had come nowhere near close, but I instantly made friends
and admirers among your father's rivals. Amid them was a man by the name of
Carlisle Cullen.

Not a year passed before I was running errands for him. Did you know the mafia
very often makes use of underage boys to do their biddings? 'Delivery boys' they
are called. They pass under the law's radar much easier. However, my
relationship with Carlisle went deeper than mere convenience. Carlisle understood
my hatred for both your father and this lifestyle, he himself having entered it in a
very nonconformist manner. Carlisle had once been a respectable doctor and it
was only after a terrible series of unfortunate events that he ended up an arms
smuggler. He knew I was hesitant about following on his path and so he allowed
me an option unheard of in the mafia: I could leave whenever I desired.

I'm thinking I should have taken that opportunity long ago...

Only through rumors did I hear about your allegedly giving up your father's name
and legacy. I was already living on the other side of the planet. I would love to
tell you about my time in Russia. About having my brother and sister join me on
that continent. About the brief escapes to Barcelona and the retreat these
provided. I also wished those sparse happy times could have lasted more than
mere weeks at a time. I still couldn't escape my profession and the decisions it
involved on a daily basis. And I couldn't escape your father.

Your father has wronged us all too often and too deep. Yet part of me can't blame
him for it all. We all made our choices when the time came. Charlie can't be
blamed absolutely and single-handedly for things we all had a part of. If anyone,
I blame myself among everyone else. Me, with my moral superiority, who
thought himself better than our fathers and yet followed on their exact path.

Whatever your father has done in the past and to whom, as far as I know only
once has he hurt a true innocent: Rose. Part of me knows this was done
unwittingly, I can hardly believe he ever gave such an order. Like me, he sent
someone else to do his dirty work. You can't blame imbeciles for acting as such.
What a tragedy it was they had come looking for me, their boss' competition and
would-be killer, and instead only found his brother's fiancé. Alice can tell you
about Rose, about her terrible luck, and how close she came to being a victim

herself. I suppose it will only deepen the contempt you feel for your father, and
for me.

When I returned to Chicago there was only one thing on my mind: vengeance.
But you see, this time, I knew that killing him would not suffice. I wanted him
dead on the inside before he was to take his last breath. I wanted his spirit
crushed and his soul tortured. I wanted him to hurt so much he'd beg for me to
rid him of such despair and mercifully kill him.

This is how you came into play, for even the vilest of creatures cherish something
or someone. And your father would forfeit his life before seeing you suffer. He
loves you so much he's willing never to see you again if that's what it takes for
you to be happy. For all this, he has my unwavering admiration. I wish I had had
the strength to do make the same sacrifice.

His love for you had always been a liability for him, I'm sure he knew this,
perhaps it was partially the reason he finally accepted your decision. I, on the
other hand, believed you were only laying low until the day came for you to claim
your rightful place in your father's empire. In my twisted state it seemed the fair
retribution to go in search for you, your father's heir. Only know I can admit to
you and to myself that perhaps I had been waiting for an excuse to have you in
my life.

I make no justification for my actions, even had this preposterous theory of mine
been true, it still does not make you anything other than an innocent victim. I will
not go over your entire imprisonment. I don't think it would serve any purpose
other than to open once more what are hopefully healing wounds. But I was
convinced I had made the right decision based on your attitude as my prisoner.
No one could remain that cool and collected were they not as vile and hard as I
was convinced you were. I mistook strength for imperviousness.

I will admit to this much since I know it's been nagging at you ever since Joseph
made the mistake to mention it: yes, I did plan to kill you. My plan was to have
your lifeless body delivered to your father, after I had made him beg, crawl and
bend to my will. Things drastically changed after that night I came uninvited to
you in your room. That night had the most terrible of consequences. By forcing
your body open I forced your mind as well. I could have never gone thru with my
horrible plan afterwards.

Something deep in my soul shifted that night, and I haven't been the same ever
since.

With all my heart I hope you never know what it's like to wrong someone as
deeply as I did you. But I did have my retribution. I was both criminal and victim
that night, inhabiting both our minds at once. Every action on my part felt thru
you. But I simply could not believe it was happening. I was sure it was my
conscious nagging at me. It couldn't actually be your mind. This was not the mind
of the woman I held in contempt.

I returned to your room shortly after you had finally succumbed to sleep thru
your tears. At first perhaps in hopes your mind had closed up once again, the way
it seemed to always do. When I realized it had not been a delusion, that it was
still very much fully open to me, I forced myself to remain and hear and feel your
pain, your loneliness, your hate and your shame. All caused by me.

You were dreaming about your mother. In your dreams you reached out for her,
broken and in despair, and missing her so terribly it made my insides quiver. I
had kept Renee's locket hidden after your abduction, I planned to send it to
Charlie at some point as a reminder of what I held in my power. I couldn't take

away what I had done, and I wouldn't dream of insulting you by breaking down in
sorrow and regret, but I could return to you a small piece of your mother.

Day after day I kept wishing your mind would shut again. I couldn't handle
hearing into that deep, rich and miraculous well that is your mind. You are by far
the strongest, truest mind I've ever encountered. You refused to become a victim
and you refused to see me only as a monster. You kept pushing me, Bella, over
and over, day after day. Insistent that something deep within me had to be good.
You were set on digging it out. And you kept wanting me, as desperately as I
wanted you. It was the most bitter of lessons.

It made me sick to admit that everything I had ever thought of you had been
wrong. You had never been cold, you were strong and independent and free. You
were not shallow, you were astute and insightful and decent. Perhaps your only
fault is, and has always been, that you've created such a colourful and embracing
world within yourself, you've become somewhat detached and remote to
everyone else. Yet not only did you allow for me to enter, you demanded it. My
terrible fate is to have misread you completely.

I hate regret; it's never gotten anyone anywhere. But I know deep in my heart
that had I approached you in a different way, perhaps we might have found our
soul mate in the other. I believe your mind would have eventually opened to me
as a natural progression of our relationship. I have been a fool and deserve
nothing but everyone's abhorrence.

I know I still leave so many unanswered questions behind. I wish we had time,
Bella. That is my only wish. Time to explain and repent and heal. The worst part
is knowing you'd be willing to grant me this and so much more. How is it possible
that you've managed to forgive me? Even when I never asked for your
forgiveness! Why is it that you claimed to see goodness in me I've never
managed to uncover myself?

But perhaps I'm fooling myself. Perhaps you yourself have been wrong about me
the way I used to be about you. You shouldn't trust the feelings you have for me.
They were born out of force and fear and need of survival. They were born in a
terrible place you can now leave behind. You have no idea how desperately I
wished Joseph would find a way to liberate you during your captivity. I know it
might not make sense to anyone else, but I feel nothing but the deepest
gratitude for the man who intended on saving the life of my truest love.

Little did I know you'd find freedom all on your own. We all should have known
you'd do everything in the most unexpected of ways.

Do you hate me enough to let go of any desires you might still have had about
being a part of my life in any way? Trust me, you should feel nothing but disdain
for me. Make no mistake, my love, I may not have started out that way, but I
ended up in the exact same place as your father. And there is nothing left for me
but to face the ghosts of my past and finally put them at ease.

I hope you find a bit of solace in the fact that you managed to triumph over me
and every one of my malicious plans. You have managed, without violence, to
break down my walls. You have opened my eyes and forced me to take a hard
look at myself and planted the dire in me to save my own soul.

Please try and understand that no matter how much change you've made in me,
it is still truly too late. Nothing will undo what's been done, and I feel I owe the
damaged parts the right for retribution.

Yours regrettably, Edward.

P.S. I'm leaving you my mother's wedding ring on top of the fireplace in your
room. If it displeases you too much to wear something of mine, give it to Alice.
Like my heart, it is yours to do as you please. Tell Alice I love her and that I left a
note for her in the mailbox. Please tell her she may be loosing a brother, but
she's gaining a wonderful sister.

I sat there motionlessly tightly holding both the pages of the letter and my
breath. When I finally did exhale, the pages slipped from my hands, one by one
falling lightly on the carpeted floor. Ice began to form at the pit of my stomach as
the contents of the letter slowly began to sink in. The Garcia Lorca book was still
on my lap and when I lowered my eyes to it, the page where the letter had been
wedged into caught my attention. Not the page itself, but the poem printed on it:

Fare Well

If I die,

leave the balcony open.

The little boy is eating oranges.

From my balcony I can see him.

The reaper is harvesting the wheat.

From my balcony I can hear him.

If I die,

leave the balcony open.

If the meaning behind Edward's words had still not full materialized, the poem
left me with no doubt whatsoever as far as his intentions were concerned. As I
ran out of my room and in the direction of the main house, there was only one
word that kept escaping my mouth and at the top of my lungs:

"Alice!"

Chapter 18- War

"Alice," I asked tentatively for what seemed like the hundredth time, but still got
no reaction whatsoever. Alice was sitting on one of the kitchen stools with her
head nestled on her hands, her fingers grabbing at fistfuls of hair. I could hear
her muttering to herself, but could make out none of the words. She had
remained in the same position ever since I showed her Edward's letter.

"Alice" I said a little firmer. I was sure we didn't have much time to begin with,
and as much as I hated pressuring her, specially knowing the pain and havoc she
must be experiencing after the morning I was putting her through, I knew we
needed to come up with a way to track down Edward, and fast.

"Alice, please." I pleaded in a whisper.

The only response I got was a hand being held out in signal for me to allow her
another minute; or maybe she needed a moment for her head to stop spinning. I
could only imagine her contradicting emotions: fearing for the life of a beloved
brother whom you'd just learned was capable of such horrors. No one could
understand her better at this moment than me.

I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I needed both to settle my
nerves and the new wave of nausea threatening to bend me over the kitchen
sink. I couldn't believe it was only a few hours ago that I had forgotten to tell
Edward about the pregnancy. Although in all honesty, it made perfect sense. Had
I not been trying to suppress that same fact for weeks now?

Perhaps it was more than denial, perhaps I had really been hoping my period was
simply being held off by nerves and the extreme circumstances that had taken
over my existence. I had never been too regular to begin with, but still, what was
I expecting to come out of such frequent and unprotected carnal activities?

Abruptly, and before I had even realized I had failed at my attempt to prevent it,
I was clawing the side of the sink and throwing up what couldn't be more than
water and gastric acid. I didn't know it was possible to throw up this many times,
especially with nothing in my stomach. Was this a normal pregnancy symptom, a
side-effect to my wrecked nerves, or a combination of both?

I sank on the floor putting my head between my knees, struggling to regain my
normal breathing, and was shortly joined by a concerned and edgy Robbie. He
was never a dog for drama, he was the calm quiet type, and all this yelling and
excitement was beginning to take a toll on his nerves. I knew I was on the verge
of losing my own cool any second, but I couldn't allow myself to fall apart. I
needed to keep myself together so that I could sort out my tangled thoughts.

I needed to come up with yet another plan. My main, if not only, activity for the
last six months, it seemed. My quiet, serene teaching life-style felt like a distant
dream. How did I get so far away from the life I had chosen and designed from
myself? And would I ever really want to go back there… without Edward? He had
changed me as much as he claimed I had him, and I couldn't hold on to the hate
and resentments, I only wanted to hold on to him.

"You ok?" I was so deep in my reflections that I was startled by Alice's soft
question.

I looked up to see her standing over me holding out a kitchen towel. I gratefully
took it and used it to wipe off the sweat on my forehead and nape. How could I
be sweaty when I suddenly felt so cold? Where were Sarah and her warm hands
and cooking when you needed them?

I suddenly gasped and sat upright. "Sarah!"

"Excuse me?" Perhaps Alice must have thought I had finally lost what little grasp
I still had on reality. "I'm Alice!"

"No, I know you're Alice." I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "I know what Edward
plans to do! He is going to face my father and let himself get killed."

"Ok." Alice said, dragging out the 'o' either from disbelief or because she was still
not catching up to my realization. I supposed I wasn't really explaining myself all
that well.

"Sarah. Sarah's my father's cook, and she knows anything and everything that
goes on in that house. If Edward is planning to face my father, Sarah will know
when and where."

"Bella, be realistic, what do you think, that he is sending an invitation with an
RSVP that the cook can intercept?" I knew she was being sarcastic, but she was
spot on.

"Yes!" I shrieked, and then waved my hands in excited dismissal. "Well, it's not a
white envelope with a date and time for the blessed occasion. But yes, I know
Edward and my father have been in contact. He mentioned them both knowing I
was staying here with you and had agreed not to contact me. That's how the
mafia works. They are barbarians that sit down to calmly talk about putting a
hole in each other's heads. They like to think of themselves as civil and refined.
Edward would never just show up at my father's estate as he did when he was a
boy. He is part of that world now. He'd find it… rude." I was already getting off
the floor and trying to figure out how to contact Miss Sarah.

"Ok, I'm going to dismiss the fact that your father knows where my family lives
and simply move on to the matter at hand." Poor thing looked even paler than
when I had rushed into the house to share her brother's news. "Your father has
been waiting for this opportunity for over a decade, and he has now more
reasons than ever to jump at the chance of- killing my brother." She had as much
of a hard time saying it as I had thinking it. "How exactly are you going to get
this information from him? Ask your father politely, in the name of his unborn
grandchild?"

"Sarah!" I yelled exasperated. "Trust me, Sarah will know and she will tell me."

"Why would she help us? Isn't she on board the hate Edward train? You said she
kept you prisoner in his house for months, not to mention every other horror he
unleashed on you! If she cares the slightest bit for you, she might be the one
pointing the gun herself!"

"No, she isn't." I wondered fleetingly on the why. "We just have to find a way to
contact her without getting the attention of anyone else in the household.
Besides, we ALL hate him, we just don't want to see him hogtied and hanging in
the back of a meat freezer truck."

An idea suddenly occurred to me. "What day is today, Alice?"

"Sunday," she replied in a still confused manner.

"Let's go. Get your things and the car keys." I took off in the direction of the
guesthouse, to change my shirt and put on some shoes. When I returned to the
house I went straight to the garage where Alice was already sitting on the
driver's seat of Jasper's yellow Porsche.

"The Porsche, Alice? I thought you weren't allowed to drive it." Alice had once
mentioned her husband would share every one of his internal organs with his
wife, before he shared his 'yellow puppy'.

"Actually, I'm not allowed to drive anything for the next three years. According to
the state of Illinois, I'm a threat to my own and others' safety." She looked over
at me conspiratorially as I took a frightful seat. "So let's just not tell anyone, ok?"

"Why can't I drive then?" I asked half panicked.

"How would that be any fun for me?" And before I could answer she was backing
out of the garage in such speed I was sure she'd leave tire marks on the floor. A
sure clue of our crime. More than one Cullen would die today.

"Ok, Bella, you seem to be the one with a plan. Where to?"

"Canal and Roosevelt Road. The Marisola Market." I was frantically trying to put
on my seat belt. It was crystal clear why the state did not consider Mrs. Jasper
Whitlockfit to drive. "Sarah goes to the market every Sunday, or at least she

used to. It's our best shot at getting her alone and away from the house and my
father."

"But if this all just took place today, she might not know about it yet."

The thought had entered my mind. "I know, Al. But it's the best chance we have."

"Jesus, Bella." She reached out for my hand and I took it instantly, giving her a
reassuring squeeze before letting go and returned to the door handle trying to
grab on to anything that would keep me from flying through the windshield.

I was astonished over how resolute to save her brother from himself Alice had
become after I shared the news of his intentions. It was only minutes before that
she had sworn never to want anything more to do with Edward, to her, she had
declared, he was dead. Only as soon as she thought his life was indeed in
jeopardy, she had been determined to help me find him. Either I had been right
about her endless ability to forgive, or the love for her twin brother was simply
greater than any sin he might have committed.

"Alice, tell me again why we are trying to rescue your brother whom we both
supposedly hate?"

I looked over at Alice who seemed to be increasing speed with each passing
second, her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. This woman
was driving at such death-defying speed I was sure we would never actually
make it alive to our dismal destination. She remained silent for a moment, and
only after she took a deep breath did she hiss venomously: "So we can murder
the son of a bitch ourselves!"

We were on I-88 en route to the Morton Arboretum. Even with trailer trucks on
every lane and the fact that the speed limit was 65 mph, Alice still kept the
needle as close to the 100 mark on the meter as she could manage. A very small
part of me wanted to beg her to slow down, the bigger part wanted to reach our
destination as fast as humanly possible.

We did finally find Sarah in the sea of tents, fruit, vegetables and people, only to
learn she knew nothing of Edward's intentions. For a moment, I succumbed to
devastation, it seemed so very impossible to stop the inevitable. Only Alice and
Sarah wouldn't let me give up.

Sarah quickly took us to her daughter's shop a couple of blocks away, and in the
apartment above it where Emily lived with her two small children, she had put
into effect what she called the 'Household Network'. In other words, every cook,
servant and housekeeper that worked for the mob was connected thru a phone
tree any of them could trigger if an emergency arouse. If anyone knew anything,
word would get back to Sarah.

Only for a while it seemed like it never would. Perhaps no one knew about this
meeting with the exception of my father and Edward. Or even worse, I had been
wrong and Edward was not planning on meeting with Charlie at all. To find a man
with a death wish on a mission to kill himself would be impossible, the
possibilities and places to many. I was falling down the well of despair when the
call finally came.

My head unexpectedly knocked with a loud thump on the car window bringing me
back to the present. "Ow, Alice!"

"Sorry I almost missed the exit and had to make a swift turn." She smiled
apologetically in my direction.

"Perhaps if you weren't driving like a deranged maniac you wouldn't be missing
exits!" I looked over at the clock in the car, 6:18. The October sun was to set at
six thirty. We had less than fifteen minutes to find them. I wondered why duels
always seemed to take place at sun down. Perhaps it was poetic significance, the
end on the day, the end of a life. I was hoping today would be the exception.

Alice parked the car just in front of one of the walking trails, and that's when the
panic hit me full force. "Alice, this place is huge, how are we supposed to ever
find them?" The place closed at six, so only a few people could still be seen
walking in the direction of their cars.

"I know where they are." Alice responded while already half out the car. I
followed her lead in the direction of a narrow trail.

"How? You can feel him?" Time for more Masen weirdness.

"No, well, yes, but that's not how I know where he is. I can feel his agony and
stupid determination, but it's not a tracking device. I know where he is because
my mother used to take us here when we were children."

"So you know where he'll meet Charlie?"

"Yes, the bridge by the old Willows. He'll want to die there, in remembrance of
our mother. Nostalgic fool." She whispered the last words to herself. Everything
Edward did seemed to have some connection with his past, no action random or
impulsive. Well, maybe he had lost his tight control a couple of times when it
came to me.

"Alice, what happened to Emmett's girlfriend back in Russia?" I knew it was a
very unorthodox time to be inquiring about it, but I simply knew that this
encounter could not only be over me, a piece was still missing.

Alice slowed down slightly and looked at me with a pained look in her face. "She's
dead. She killed herself a few months after what you father's men did to her. It
devastated both my brothers."

I didn't ask what was done to her, I could very well imagine, and I simply didn't
need one more horror inside my head for the time being. I couldn't believe how
incredibly sad I felt over the death of a person I never even met.

"Where is Emmett now?"

"We don't know exactly, he moves around a lot and hardly ever contacts either of
us, or anyone else for that matter. I thought he'd heal with the years, but he
seems to be getting deeper and deeper into this dark depression."

I wanted to sit on the damp floor and weep. What had been done to this family
over and over again? How could someone survive so much pain and tragedy?
Although in Edward's case, I supposed you could hardly call it surviving. I felt a
bubbling sense of respect and admiration for Alice. Of the three, she was
undoubtedly the stronger one, the only one who had managed to stitch up her life
and build a happy existence for herself.

"Come on, Bella, hurry up! We still have a long stretch to walk." I struggled to
catch up to her.

We kept walking in silence, the only sound around us the birds and bugs
celebrating the coming night. Minutes later I heard the first voice, far away and

soft, but it was surely a man's voice. I grabbed Alice by the elbow and pulled her
behind a tree.

"They can't see you, Alice. I won't put you in more danger than I already have." I
whispered fervently.

"You are insane if you think I'll let you walk in there by yourself." She whispered
back.

"Then I am, but you are not coming." I said determinedly.

"And how do you plan on stopping me?" She challenged.

"Alice, please. Think of your husband and children. Please. You family has
experienced enough loss." She was about to retort when I interrupted her with a
final attempt at thwarting her intent. "I'll tell Jasper you took the Porsche, and
drove over a hundred miles an hour!"

Her mouth dropped open and closed a second later, and only after repeating the
movement twice did she finally reply. "Fine! Hope you get shot in the ass." I
could still hear her huffing while I walked away.

I stood behind a thick mass of shrubbery to assess the situation. There seemed
to be a semi-circle of six thugs behind Charlie, and some fifteen feet away facing
him was Edward. All alone. He was dressed in last night's clothes, looking
unkempt and unshaven. It was so unlike him to present himself in such a careless
manner. It was as if he had no strength left to hang on to anything belonging to
this world.

I noticed right away that neither man was holding a weapon, something that was
not the case with Charlie's men. They all had firearms, and all were pointed at
Edward. If they felt threatened, they would shoot without hesitation. I didn't want
to startle anyone so I walked around the shrubbery and came into plain view of
everyone. It was one of Charlie's men who saw me first.

"Boss." I could hear the disbelief in his call.

"What?" But as Charlie turned to look at his man calling behind him, his eyes
stumbled on me. "Isabella! What are you doing here? What is the meaning of this
Cullen?" When he turned to Edward he could see his own shock reflected in the
younger man's face.

"Charlie, please, you can't do this." My voice was shaky and low, I was struggling
just to keep my legs from buckling under me.

"Isabella, this is no concern of yours, please," and turning to one of the men
behind him he continued. "Tony, take my daughter to the car where she can
wait."

"No!" My voice was so loud and decisive, Tony stopped frozen in his tracks.

"Bella, please. Just do as your father tells you." Edward pleaded.

"No," I repeated just as firmly as the first time. "Neither of you will tell me what
to do. This has to be finished. This horrible fight and competition over who hurts
the other one deeper is done."

"Yes, that's what we are here for, sweetheart, to put an end to this once and for
all." Charlie hissed venomously looking over at Edward. The hatred between the
two men was palpable.

"Not like this, Charlie!" I pleaded. The man Charlie had instructed to take me
back to the car had started moving once again in my direction. I took a couple of
steps back and held my arm up in signal for him to stop, but was unsuccessful.
Before I could think of a way to stop him he was dragging me away by the arm.

"Charlie! Dad, please don't do this! You have to listen to me! You'll regret it if you
kill Edward, please!" I kept trying to free myself from Tony's grip and digging my
heels in the ground to stay put. I was putting up such resistance that several
times I managed to get away from him and closer to Edward and my father.

"Jesus, Charlie! Is that the best your man can do! She is half his size!" Edward
yelled.

I couldn't believe they were in agreement to have me removed so they could
return to their grimy business. It was worrisome how similar they actually were.
Can monsters change? I was in love with one; I surely hoped that was the case.
As for my father, he'd have to look for the right path on his own.

"Edward, please, don't do this." I screamed as Tony was now fully carrying me
away. "Stop! Put me down, you imbecile!"

"Put her down, Anthony!"

We all froze and looked in the direction of the booming, and definitely newly
arrived, voice.

A man with ashen blond hair stood opposite Charlie, standing behind Edward who
had turned fully around to see who else had decided to crash his party.

"Carlisle, my old friend!" His words may have been of recognition and friendship,
but Charlie's acid tone said otherwise.

"Charles, please do as the lady asks and tell Tony to put her down." Carlisle's
voice was steady and calm, and I knew right away where Edward had learned his
demeanor.

"I fail to see why I should do as you say, my friend."

But just as Charlie pronounced the last word, at least a dozen heavily armed men
walked out of the shrubbery, and with them, Alice. At first I panicked thinking she
had been taken by force, until I noticed she was clutching the sleeve of one of the
men. I recognized him right away: Emmett.

"I'm asking politely, Charles, you know how I dislike ruthlessness." Carlisle smiled
a wicked grin that made me think of a cat holding a mouse between its paws.

Charlie made a gesture for Tony to put me down, which he did immediately. And
I took the opportunity to run over to Edward who opened his arms to welcome
me.

"Edward, please, I need to-"

Before I could go on, Edward had placed a hand on my lips to silence me.

"Shhh, Bella, just be quiet, ok?" He wasn't being controlling; I could actually see
the fear in his eyes that I would disobey him and start what could only end up in
bloodbath. I looked up to see we were indeed surrounded on all sides by
firearms, some pointing at the men behind us, most pointing at us.

"So how is it that so many people decided to join us this evening?" Asked Charlie
with an accusing look aimed at his own men. "Seems to me we have a rat among
us!"

"I come in behalf of my son and his Isabella, Charles. I do believe you owe me,
and I think it's time you paid back." Carlisle took half a step in our direction which
seemed to have a very stressful effect on everyone, the clicks of guns being
loaded ringing in the air. "And you know I'd never pass up the opportunity to say
hello personally."

"Excuse my rude welcome, Carlisle. I was under the impression you had retired
from these… ventures of ours." Charlie's gaze was set on the two of us now,
eyeing us suspiciously. I supposed he was trying to figure out why I had run into
the arms of my former captor.

"Yes, well, it's good to be back, Charles." Carlisle smiled once more, only this
time he was looking at Edward and me and the smile seemed to turn genuine.
Even under the circumstances, he looked happy to see Edward, or perhaps to see
him still alive.

The atmosphere was charged, it was clear we stood among unfathomable
enemies, and whatever it was that my father owed Carlisle, I doubted he'd truly
have the intentions of paying his debt. Any moment something could happen that
would upset the delicate balance of pretend civility and a war would ensue around
us.

"Edward," I whispered, my eyes back on his face. "Please, let's just walk away."
He looked down at me and his expression was lost and pained.

"Bella, it's hopeless. Please, I'm no good for you." His eyes softened somewhat
and I could see the longing in them. "Why did you come, love?"

"To tell you something, Edward. You can't leave us." I could hear Carlisle and
Charlie still talking, but everyone and everything seemed to start fading away. It
was only Edward and me standing in the middle of a silent forest.

"Bella," my name was a whisper in his lips. Edward's hand went up to ever so
softly caress my hair. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and just hold on to
him for eternity. "You and Alice will go on, I promise. Neither one of you deserves
to be burdened by me any more."

"No, Edward, you don't understand, I don't mean Alice and me when I say you
can't leave us." I didn't know if I could do anything to help my mind open up to
him, so I just kept saying it like a mantra in the loudest inner voice I could
manage:

Edward, I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. We are to have a child, we are a family
now.

"Bella, please," he frowned looking at me with patience and misery. "Don't lie
about such things to try and change my mind."

"I'm not lying, Edward. Please!" I felt like weeping, how could he not believe me?
He had to see it in my head! I couldn't lie about this!

"Bella," he spoke slowly, as if to a child. He was holding me away with his hands,
trying to get a full view of my face, looking for the truth in it. "You couldn't get
pregnant, Doctor Melbourne gave you- " He sharply inhaled. "He assured me that
not for three m- " I could see him mentally doing the math. I should have figured

Edward would do something to keep me from getting pregnant. I supposed he
simply did not plan to have me around for such an extended period of time.

I saw it in his eyes then. The truth sinking in. Whatever doubt he may have had I
was fabricating the news was slowly dissipating. He knew it was true. He knew
that no matter how things may have started between us, whatever he may have
chosen to do with his life until this point, it was all about to change. He was a
father now. His life had taken secondary importance. It wasn't about his sins
anymore, it was about atonement. His arms fell to his side as if he'd forgotten
them.

It began in his eyes. A glitter of hope. Traveling down over his beautiful features
until it reached his mouth, pulling it up into a soft smile. A smile of pure joy, of
hope. I could see his entire body reaching out to me, as if in slow motion. His
hands were coming up when I heard a something crack, and then I heard loud
voices, frantic shouts, a deafening commotion was taking place around us.

Before he could reach me, I was hit by something in the chest. It wasn't a terribly
strong blow, more like getting hit by a current of air, a strong and sudden draft.
And then I felt a dampness in my chest and Edward's eyes traveling down my
body, as if he felt what I had.

His eyes grew wide, and the intake of breath he drew was so sharp it seemed to
cause him pain. And then I saw it clearly: terror. I followed his gaze down and
couldn't understand the sudden change of color in my shirt. My shirt shimmered
in the afternoon sun, wet and bright spots all over it. The deepest red covered
most of my front. My first thought, after the initial wonderment, was of
admiration. It was such a beautiful color. Bright and shiny and full of… life.

It was now my turn to gasp in shock. Intuitively my hands went up to touch the
stain, and as I turned my shaking hands it finally dawned on me. Blood. But it
couldn't be! Where was so much blood coming from?

With my now stained hands I began patting my chest, my stomach, looking for
the source of the wound. I looked up to Edward whose face was ashen and
terrified, his eyes locked on mine.

"Bella" He called out my name in a frightened whisper. His hands were still up,
trying to reach for me. But before they could even stroke me with their fingertips,
his entire body seemed to grow rigid and heavy. I instinctively opened my arms
to receive the blow of his full weight on me, and in a tight embrace we both went
down on our knees and onto the leaf covered ground of the woods.

Chapter 19- Atonement

I hate the smell of hospitals. The smell of sterilized death.

The frantic first hour had come and gone. That hour that was now a blur of fear
and hysteria and confusion. Now the worst part was ahead: the waiting. Waiting
for something to happen, waiting for something to change, waiting for news,
waiting for life, waiting for death.

After wearing myself out walking back and forth the long white corridors, I had
finally succumbed to an exhaustion that left me sitting on the floor, my eyes fixed
on nothing. Not until I was sitting down and motionless did I notice I was
shaking, and so cold. My arms went around my legs, hugging my knees to my
chest, but helped little in improving either the shaking or the chilliness.

I felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature. It was an ice that
had formed in the cavity of my chest and had begun traveling through my veins.
Sluggish and slow, heavy and thick, it was effectively reaching every organ and
limb in my body. The ice prevented me from crying, it had frozen my tears along
with my heart. It made it painful to breathe.

For what could have been hours people came and went, some stopped by my side
and kept me company momentarily, others tried in vain to talk me out of my
catatonic state. I simply couldn't cope with what had happened. I kept replaying
it in my head, as if I could change the outcome by trying to figure out what had
happened. What had set off the shooting? Who had fired the first shot? Who were
they trying to hit?

My clothes were still splattered in blood. Part of me was relieved the bullet hadn't
gone through us both. Part of me wished it had been me instead of him, but no, I
couldn't bear the thought of something happening to our baby. A bigger part
wished none of this had ever happened to begin with. Not all of it, I had finally
made my peace with the way things had begun between Edward and I. But I
would have given anything to erase the last sequence of events.

I should have tied Edward to my bed last night. I knew he was planning to leave
and didn't stop him. Why did I not stop him? Was I hoping he'd stay of his own
accord? And even worse, why had I not told him about the baby then? I knew
very well that might have changed his mind when nothing else would have. I
don't think he could have ever abandoned me had he known I was carrying his
child.

A wave of sadness swept through me. I knew why I hadn't told him, deep down, I
was hoping he'd stay for me, only for me, and not because he felt he owed me.
How terrible and selfish a person was I? I wanted to rip my hair by the roots. He
would have been well and alive; he would have been by our side, mending, had I
just had the selflessness to tell him.

I placed my hands on my head and rocked my body in a back and forth motion. I
wanted to crawl into the darkest cave, dig the deepest whole, and just stay there
forever. Stay where I belonged, away from everyone else. Thankfully, I simply
stayed here with my obsessive thoughts, and didn't look up until someone placed
a steaming cup of tea on the floor by my side.

Alice greeted me with a small smile. "I thought something hot would help a little."
She sat beside me on the floor struggling with the fabric of her long skirt.

I smiled and nodded in response, but said nothing. I took the white paper cup
and brought it to my lips. It felt scorching to my frozen fingers. It wasn't
necessarily that hot, but the difference between our temperatures was too great.
I felt every drop of the burning liquid travel down until it reached my stomach,
where it helped ease the frost.

This was better. Anything that took my mind of the destructiveness had to be
good.

"You should go home and change, Bella. You look like a bad horror film."

"I already washed my face and hands, Alice." I lifted my left hand to her face for
her to inspect, and noticed I still had some traces of Edward's blood. Edward's
blood. I suppressed a sob that almost escaped my lips.

"Yeah, but your shirt looks like a Pollock project." Alice took my hand in hers and
smiled kindly, compassion sketched in every one of her delicate features.

I didn't know if it was the warmth of the tea or Alice trying to comfort me when
she herself must have felt every bit as rotten as I did, but I began convulsing in
what I realized were repressed sobs.

"Bella, let it out, just cry if it'll help. But this can't be good for the baby."

Truth was I didn't feel like crying. I felt like dying. The pain and sadness, guilt
and misery were so intense it was crippling.

Alice took the cup from my hand and placed it on the floor once again before
enveloping me with both her arms. Alice was right, holding it in much longer
might be harmful for the baby. I needed to focus on what was good for my baby,
our baby, Edward's baby. So I rested my head on her shoulder and cried.

Six hours. We had arrived at the hospital almost six hours ago and still nothing.
After I had cried my soul out on Alice's shoulder, I had peeled myself off the floor
with her help and had moved to the waiting area where everyone else was
situated.

I had finally made the choice to be strong. I had to be, for the sake of the baby's,
for Edward, for myself. Enough with the guilt and the feeling sorry for myself
which would lead nowhere but the dark hole that was depression. I needed to find
hope in the future. Even when it might not hold Edward, it would still hold a piece
of him. There was life. There was hope.

A nurse had approached us a couple of times to inform us that Edward was still in
surgery, that the best doctors were working on him, that he'd lost a lot of blood,
some vital organs were damaged, that any minute now one of the doctors would
give us more information.

We were still waiting for that to happen.

I looked around assessing our congregation. The room was crowded with big,
burly men dressed in dark suits and long, tailored coats, their faces sour and
unfriendly. We looked like a mobster convention. Almost everyone that had been
at the meadow, and a couple of new arrivals, were now sitting or walking in
circles drinking bitter coffee.

Carlisle sat close by trying to be discreet about his obvious interest in Charlie and
me. As far as I had seen, the only interaction between them had taken place
while they were both getting a cup of coffee from the vending machine. They
were too far away for me to hear the words spoken, but as far as I was able to
read in their mannerisms, it was nothing of consequence.

I wanted to approach him. There were so many questions I would have loved to
ask the man who had shaped, for good or bad, the man that was Edward today. I
was very struck by how much he actually reminded me of Edward. His manners
and general air, his impeccable attire and his quiet expression; it was very clear
who had taught Edward how to be the perfect gentleman. Crime activities and all.

Next to Carlisle, and quite close to him, stood Emmett silently leaning against a
wall. His expression as lost in nothing as mine had been a while ago. He seemed
so sad and hopeless, on the verge of despair. How long ago had he been
estranged from his siblings? I supposed it was Carlisle who had brought him here
today. Alice kept him company when she wasn't by my side, but not much was
said between them.

Jasper had arrived an hour after Alice had called him at work to relate the events
of the day. He had arrived bringing bags full of take-out food that only the

henchmen had touched. Alice had been unbendable throughout the whole thing,
but once she felt the safeness of her husband's arms, she had momentarily
crumbled. I felt such admiration for Alice, out of everyone here, she was the only
one keeping it marginally together. Jasper hadn't stayed long, he had left after a
couple of hours to go take care of their boys.

Joseph, who had arrived only minutes after everyone else and whose awareness
of the situation remained a mystery, would take turns with Charlie and Alice
sitting with me, all of them politely avoiding each other in silent truce. Alice would
talk non stop, sometimes about menial things like the weather and the fact that
the rain seemed to have started never to end. Others she'd talk about her
childhood and Edward's.

I didn't want to hear anything related to Edward. I felt like he was dead and gone
and we were here reminiscing about his life, or at least the good parts. But I
thought it rude to tell this to Alice. I was sure she was only trying to distract me,
letting me know that at least portions of Edward's life had been good. I was also
sure it helped her to talk about him. She needed this and I needed to be by her
side and help her as much as she was helping me.

My sister. I know had a sister, whatever the outcome.

Alice was hurting as much as I was. So many people here were. No matter how
much Edward tried to distance himself, there were still people that loved him. It
was a comforting thought.

Joseph hadn't said much to me upon his arrival. I guess there wasn't much more
to say. We needed to pray and wait. During his turns to keep me company, he
would hold my hand and look at me with concern and what I wagered was
something close to guilt. I'm sure he somehow blamed himself for Edward's final
decision. I didn't blame him at all. The time for blame had passed.

Charlie had tried to say something to me on several occasions. He'd start and
close his mouth just as soon. He was either doubtful on what to say or simply
couldn't put it into words. I could only imagine what he was thinking. My actions
had been pretty clear as far as my feelings towards Edward were concerned, and
Carlisle calling me 'Edward's Bella' had confirmed it.

Edward's Bella. I rather liked the sound of that.

"All right Bella. Let's have a talk." Charlie's voice was soft but determined. I
guess he had finally mustered the courage.

"Charlie, it's complicated." I sighed. We were sitting in one of the waiting room's
more private corners, but we were still at ear's range and I was afraid someone
might catch too much of what was being said. This was not a suitable
conversation to have in front of everyone.

"If the waiting up until now is any indication, we have time." Apparently, Charlie
thought it was just the right time and place…

Where are those damn nurses when you need them?

"I don't know what to tell you, Charlie. I know it may be hard to understand, but
we grew," I struggled to find the right word, "...close."

"What exactly happened in that house, Isabella? How do you develop a
relationship with the man who is keeping you captive? Please explain to me how
it works!"

"I don't know how it works, Charlie." I was becoming agitated and angry. After
everything I had been through, I didn't feel like explaining myself to my gang
lord of a father.

I took a deep breath and sorted my thoughts, I knew there was only one way
Charlie would even start getting over this. Lying my ass off.

"He was kind, Charlie. He wanted you to think I was suffering to make you suffer.
I was treated with respect and dignity, and Edward was nothing but the perfect
host to me," I looked him in the eye then to make sure my words were believable
to him. "We have a lot in common. We've both suffered from the choices our
father's made, we enjoy the same things, we like the same books. He
understands me. I'm working hard at understanding him. Had we met under
more normal circumstances, things would have ended up pretty much in the
same place it did, sans the hospital visit hopefully. He makes me feel… at home."

I was surprised at the truth behind my words. Yes, Edward may not have been
the 'perfect host' all the time, but everything else was true. Charlie was looking
fixedly at me, looking for any sign of deceit. He leaned into me so his next words
would be heard by absolutely no one but me.

"Is he somehow forcing you to say this? Does he still have some kind of hold on
you?" His words were very quiet, his tone pleading. "Has any of his men
threatened you in any way?" I knew he must have been thinking about the lie I
told last time. I felt bad. I couldn't keep playing with my father's feelings. This
had to be settled and clear once and for all.

"Dad," his entire demeanor changed with my endearment. "I lied before. It was
me who helped him escape from the basement. I never wanted him harmed. I
just didn't know how to tell you how I felt about him. I convinced myself that if
you found out about us you'd have him…" I wasn't sure I should finish that
sentence in a public place.

I closed my eyes and looked away from Charlie. This was all so hard. I simply had
to accept the fact that I would never be able to tell my father the whole truth.
Would he be a part of my life now? Of Edward's and the baby? Could I leave him
behind once more?

The thought was a bit depressing, the thought of Charlie not being a part of his
grandchild's life. How could I reconcile all these broken pieces? How could we all
live in any semblance of harmony?

"We are in love, Charlie. I can't live without him, and I know he feels the same
way." Perhaps I hadn't thought my words, but they had escaped my mouth none
the less.

Charlie took my hand in his and kissed it. I knew it was his way of making peace.
Of letting me know I would be free to make my own choices, to live my own life.
We remained quiet for some time, Charlie perhaps trying to come to terms with
the fact that his daughter was very much in love with his enemy and that it was
the way things were. Me simply trying to remember how to breathe.

But there was one thing I had been wondering about ever since the meadow, and
curiosity got the best of me as it did often.

"Dad," it came out more natural this time around. "Why did Carlisle say you owed
him a favor?"

He smiled fondly and sighed deeply, as if remembering the sweetest of
memories.

"He was the one who introduced me to your mother."