You only know what I want you to
I know everything you don't want me to
Oh your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine
You think your dreams are the same as mine

Poison and Wine - The Civil Wars

AN: I usually don't do long author's notes or place them at the beginning of chapters but there will be some sensitive subjects breached during this chapter. Even though this story is rated as M and I feel as if Emma's past from an abusive relationship has been alluded to fairly plainly in my previous chapters I still wanted to place this warning here just in case.

Chapter Fourteen

At some point, the tears stopped flowing. Diana carefully got up, switching my head from her lap to one of the couch pillows. I heard her walk around a bit, the drawers in my bedroom open and close, the shower in the bathroom turn on, and then Diana was crouching down in front of my face. Though I had not noticed it before I could see that her eyes were as red-rimmed as mine were currently.

She gently helped me to sit up, and then after readjusting to being vertical helped me stand and walk to the bathroom where she had laid out a set of my sleep clothes and started a hot shower for me.

"It will help," she promised as she quietly closed the door to give me some privacy.

I slow stripped out of my clothes and moved to stand under the heated spray of water, closing the curtain behind me. I let the water soak around me and stared at nothing particular, letting the warm water wash away the morning's events. The water was able to clear away a bit of the fog in my head, I knew what needed to be done and was fairly sure that if I told Diana she would stop me. Diana would not be able to see the danger I would be putting her in if I stayed. The danger I would be putting Paul in if I stayed, that is why I have to leave.

The tightness in my chest returned when thinking about leaving Paul, the thought of leaving him without saying anything was an even more gut-ripping thought. The thing between us was so new and fragile and yet somehow he had become such a big part of my life in such a short period of time. Just being near his atmosphere had a way of putting me at ease. Hearing him talk made me feel content, his laugh and his happiness made me happy, and when I looked into his eyes it is as if I could see a piece of my soul reflected at me.

That was why I had to leave. If I stayed, this beautiful man who was all things patient and kind to me could be hurt. I was protecting him by leaving.

Knowing that information was the only way that I was going to find the strength to leave.

I shut off the water, dried myself thoroughly with a towel, and changed into the sleep clothes Diana had set out for me. I peeked out the bathroom door before I exited, scared that all my thinking of Paul would make him materialize in the house. Instead, I saw Diana sitting alone at the kitchen table a mug of tea in her hand and another mug sitting waiting for me at the chair next to hers. Seeing the apparent invitation I curled myself up onto the wooden chair and cradled the tepid cup between my two palms.

Diana looked at me for a long time and equally, I studied her. Her ordinarily bright face seemed to be showing its years today and the crinkle lines around her mouth that were usually drawn up in a grin sat low and downcast. It was quiet in the house, the only sounds coming from the occasionally drinks we each took from our cups and the soft plink of the wet droplets from the ends of hair dropping onto the tile floor below.

Finally, Diana broke the silence, "You need to tell him."

I sighed expecting this, "I can't."

"I promise you he won't judge you or see you different, my boy is crazy about you Emma."

I blushed at her declaration and looked down into the swirling teabag in my mug. While I was assured that Paul felt for me and I was content in the knowledge that he would do his best to understand, I still could not help this nagging feeling in the back on my head that he would see me differently if I told him.

To him, I was a normal woman with an uncomplicated past who had stumbled across La Push a year ago and decided to come back. It was easier every day to pretend that was the truth, but I was leaving.

"He deserves to know," Diana added on softly a few minutes later.

Guilt surged through me at that. If I was truly going to leave, I owed it to Paul to tell him why. It would make leaving so much harder, I knew that if anyone could convince me to stay- it would be Paul. It was already so hard just thinking about never seeing him again. It wouldn't be fair to him to leave without an explanation. Not after he had given me so much patience and consideration, to leave without a word would be disrespectful to everything we had.

"I know," I finally answered back.

"So you will tell him?"

With a heavy sigh, I nodded silently.

"When?"

I was planning on leaving tomorrow, I did not want any trace of me to be anywhere near La Push when he inevitably comes here looking for me.

"Tonight," tonight would be my only chance to tell Paul, to explain why I have to go.

Diana put her mug down and wrapped me in a warm embrace and she whispered encouraging words into my ear, "You are so strong." Burying my head into her chest I reveled in the radiating love, I closed my eyes and thanked whatever divine spirit put this amazing woman into my path.

Pulling away she ushered me out of the chair, "It is still quite early in the day and Paul won't be here for a few more hours, how about you go and rest for a bit? If you need anything, anything at all, I will be right out here." She shuffled me into the bedroom, practically tucked me into bed, and gave me a quick peck on my forehead.

"I will always be right here for you Emma," she said with more weight than I think she intended, before turning off the light and closing the door.

Though the lights were off and the curtains were drawn tight, the midday sun still seeped through and splashed the unusual Washington sunlight onto the opposite wall. I was finding it hard to believe how much had occurred in such a short morning. I regretted the fact that I did not listen to the voice in my head and the feeling in my heart that told me not to leave La Push this morning, but that was a mistake that I would have to live with. As I laid there sleep did not come, I was too on edge to sleep and too tired to begin packing. Instead, I laid in the warm bed staring at the sliver of light change colors as the afternoon wore on and my time in La Push grew smaller.

I felt Paul's presence before I heard him, the only way I can describe it is that one moment there was nothing and then- I could feel him. It was a feeling so singularly Paul that it was unmistakable, then a few moments later I heard the familiar rumbling of his truck roll across the gravel outside of the small house.

The door to the house opened and I heard Diana's light voice say something and be responded to by Paul's deeper baritone.

I hesitated to get out of the bed, wondering that if I closed my eyes and faked sleep if I could somehow get out of saying goodbye. I could lay here and just forget the world outside of this little room for the night, take away from this town in the morning without anyone being the wiser. I sucked in a breath at my traitorous thoughts. I'm weak.

Then there was a quiet knock on the door and my heart plummeted that Paul would come in here and see the weakness in my eyes. Instead, I was greeted with Diana's soft voice from the other side of the door, "Emma are you awake, Paul is here?"

Feeling shame at my cowardice, I called back shakier than I would have liked "Yes, give me a moment."

My feet moved as if of their own volition untucked themselves from the thick comforter and swung down onto the cold wood floor below. I dressed in a daze, feeling as if I was preparing for the walk to own demise. Dreading each step I took closer to losing everything I had built up here.

I threw on the first t-shirt my hand touched, an oversized faded black band tee, and a pair of denim shorts. I took a look in the mirror and saw the evidence of the morning, my tan skin looked sallow and made my look sick, the hours spent laying in bed had dried my wet hair in all different directions.

Stalling for a few extra moments I took the time to brush through my blonde locks, placing the errant strands in their rightful place. The repetitive motion of the brush combing through my hair had a way of calming some of my nerves.

Knowing I had postponed long enough I slipped on a pair of sandals and moved to the door, but hesitated when passing the large duffle bag that I had brought with me those months ago. I bent down and unzipped one of the small compartments on the side, found the small pouch I was looking for, and retrieved my intended item. My hand circled it and quickly transferred it into the front pocket of my shorts. I made my way to the door.

On the other side, I could faintly hear hushed voices going back and forth, I leaned in trying to understand the conversation but was unable to discern any real sentences. The tone of their words was heated and frantic, each shooting back replies quickly before the other even finished their sentence.

A ping a fear ran through my veins, afraid that Diana might have pushed the issue and taken it into her own hands.

I opened the door cautiously and their conversation ended abruptly. Both Diana and Paul were standing huddled near each other in the kitchen, staring at me and not saying anything. Diana was looking flushed but much more put together than when she had tucked me in earlier today.

"Hey," I said lamely.

"Hey," he mimicked back.

Paul's features were set in worry as they took in my form, I watched as his eyes took me in from head to toe, pausing on different aspects longer than others. I could tell immediately that he knew something was up, but he seemed still in the dark so at least Diana had not divulged anything.

If it had been any other day I would have laughed at his appearance because it matched my own- black shirt and jean shorts. It was not any other day though and I couldn't even manage a half-smile as I walked over to Diana and him.

Placing my back to him I looked Diana in eyes and tried to seep in as much strength from her that I could at this moment.

"We're going to be out late tonight, don't wait up." I gave Diana a tight hug and she kissed my cheek in support.

"Good luck."

Detaching, I took a steadying breath and turned towards Paul. He now looked both worried and confused, deep lines on his forehead scrunched up in suspicion, and eyes darting back in forth between mine searching for answers. I picked up one of his big, toasty hands and led him out of the house, the contact helped give me the strength to do what needed to be done.

"Let's go for a ride," I told Paul softly as I steered us toward his truck.

I let go briefly as we got in, but quickly reclaimed the hand and cradled it in between both of my smaller ones as soon as we were situated in the cab. He brought the engine to life and then looked at me for further instructions, asking me with his eyes where to go.

"First Beach."

He nodded and then we drove in silence to the beach, the sun was lower in the sky but still had a few hours left in it. I could tell that Paul was getting more anxious the closer we got to the ocean, he barely kept his eyes on the road in between looking over at me with concern. I drew patterns on the back of Paul's hand in a soothing motion, hoping to help calm him.

The drive was having the opposite effect on me, the misery that I had been basking in seemed to melt away as we got closer to the ocean. Making the decision to tell Paul was the hardest part, the back and forth, the countless thoughts of how it could go wrong. Now that I had decided and committed I was resolute in my decision and at peace.

We crested the final hill, all that lay before us was the beach and the ocean. It was a weekday, but even so, the beautiful weather had many families enjoying the last dying specks of summer. Paul parked us far down the beach, shutting off the engine he opened the driver door, and instead of relinquishing his hand, I scooted across the bench after him.

We ditched our shoes at the sand line and I walked us quite a ways away from everyone else. I could feel Paul's gaze locked on my face but he allowed me to lead, for now. After a while, when we had not seen anyone for several minutes I began searching the treeline until I found the perfect spot- a large tree, its roots gnarled and diving this way and that. I indicated to Paul my intentions and he settled himself soundly on the ground in the crook of the roots with his back supported. He left a spot for me next to him but instead, I found purchase in between his legs my back to his chest. His arms wrapped snugly around my midsection, securing us together and I relaxed in the tender embrace.

Any other day the moment would have been romantic and intimate, the two of us wrapped around each other staring out into the ebbing waves before us. I let my heart enjoy this last occasion of intimacy, unsure of how the coming revelation would change this connection between the two of us and knowing that tonight would be the last.

Paul's curiosity won out and I felt his nose tickle the side of my face before the honey timbre of his voice murmured into my ear, "What's wrong Emma?"

I sighed knowing that my time was up, needing courage I focused on the calm ocean on the horizon and began my tale.

"A while ago I told you that someday I would tell you the full story of that day on the beach last year," I started subconsciously tracing the veins of his arm that he had wrapped around me, "welcome to someday."

"You've never pushed me about why I decided to go into the water that day, and that majority of me still does not fully understand why I did it either, but a small part of my mind knows, even as much as I would like to deny it, that I knew it was a way out. A way to escape the life that had been thrust upon me.

We've talked about how I don't have any family and that is the truth, my mother and father both died when eleven, after which I was placed with a distant aunt. She was the old living relative that CPS could track down and I am grateful for that but our relationship was minimal at best. She died during my freshman year of college and I was the only one to attend the funeral.

In college, I majored in photography and made a handful of friends that I grew close to, a sort of family that you chose kind of thing. I dated here and there but nothing serious ever came of anything, at some point boys, in general, stopped approaching me. I was working all the time to pay for school, most of my weekends spent shooting families and couples up and down the Southern Californian coast. All in all, it was a happy time of full of self-discovery. During my senior year when everyone started making plans about their futures and what was next for them, we just stopped having time for each other. It seemed that there was always something that came up and eventually hanging out with each other became phone calls and texting, and then eventually nothing.

By the spring semester, I was essentially back to where I was when I came into school, alone. This was fine and I was able to spend more time with clients and building professional relationships and focus on schooling, but I still felt like I was missing something. I guess that is why when he found me I was such an easy target."

Paul started rubbing small circles into my back which I found comfort in. I was thankful that he was letting me speak, knowing how hard it would be if I stopped now.

"His name is Thomas Steele, Tom-" my voice cracked on the name, having avoided the short one-syllable word since I last spoke it to Diana my first night in La Push.

"We met in the same little coffee shop that I went to before every big test, he bought my coffee and by that night we were on our first date. All of our interests intertwined, he always knew the exact right thing to say, he knew more about some of my favorite artists than I did myself. I was a moth drawn to flame around him, craving the personal connection, and selfishly enjoying the lavish attention being given to me.

Things moved so fast after that, I graduated and when my lease was up he talked me into moving into his home. I was young, having just turned 22, and naive and was so convinced of his sincerity that I never questioned anything. He worked in sales of some sort, his job forcing him to travel somewhat frequently which was his excuse for me to cut down on my work hours. I was working freelance but working frequently, he didn't like how much time I spent working and wanted me to be able to travel with him. My jobs grew fewer and fewer until they stopped altogether, this was my first big sign.

Then started the rules, he was obsessive about things being done a certain way and at a certain time. At first, it was just the house; the towels folded particularly and placed neatly on the rack, the food organized in a certain manner in the panty, dinner served at a precise time every night. They were harmless requests that I was able to follow but it evolved to include rules about me; what clothes I could buy, when I could leave the house, and where I could go. We got in arguments frequently, it was as if he had this built up image in his mind of what I should be, and whenever I fell below those standards he got angry."

Gooseflesh raised up on my arms but I kept speaking, needing to get the rest of this out.

"The first time he hit me I was shocked, not expecting it and not knowing how to process it. We were fighting about something I had said at a work dinner party, the argument had started in the car and by the time we made it to the house, he was full-on screaming. You always hear those stories about how the man hits the woman and then he apologies and promises to never do it again and she ultimately takes him back. After he hit me, there was never any remorse in his eyes. Through the two and a half years we were together, never once did he apologize for what he did to me. He had punched me, full fist into my cheek," my hand came up to rub the spot as if to soothe the pain as I relieved the moment, "it knocked me off my feet and I laid on the floor staring into his cold eyes unsure of what to do next."

"We never spoke about it, I considered leaving but realized that I had nothing of my own anymore and nowhere to go. The paltry amount of money I had left from working would be enough to pay for a cab and a few nights somewhere but then what? Besides that, I did love the man at the time, or rather I loved the man he pretended to be, the one that everyone else sees at first. I stayed that night and that was all the permission that he needed to continue, it was as if that first taste of violence lit a fire within him. The rules he laid-out grew more specific and structured, my whole day organized from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to sleep at night."

"If I was able to complete all the tasks in a fashion that was suitable to him, I was safe for the night. If somewhere along the way I stumbled or missed something, at night... I would know what to expect. Some nights were worse than others, depending on his mood."

I shifted down the waistband of my jeans enough to reveal three healed half-inch pale pink puckered scars in a triangle over the skin of my right hip.

"On nights he smoked cigars I tried to be on my best behavior," Paul's hand came down and gingerly caressed each one, "he was careful to burn in the same places over and over again in order to minimize the scarring. He liked to inflict pain, his eyes would alight with glee when he found something justifiable to punish me for but did not like having to see the evidence of his actions. I appreciated nights when he would hit my face because the following days he usually avoided me entirely, waiting for the bruising to reach a suitable level to where he did not have them staring back at him."

I was surprised when Paul's finger wiped away a few stray tears from my face, not comprehending when I had started to cry. So far, I had been able to keep my voice somewhat steady, it felt more as if I was reciting someone else's story than my own. I wanted to turn around and look at Paul's face but was afraid of what I might see there, pity.

"I tried to leave once, after a particularly awful night that left me with a swollen right eye and some bruised ribs, he was distancing himself from me. He told me he was going out to dinner with some work colleagues and as soon as his car left the drive I called a cab and threw as much stuff as possible into a bag. I took all the money I had saved and had the driver take me three cities over to a by-the-night motel, I had not planned out anything but knew that I needed to leave. It took him all of eight hours to find me.

I don't know how, but it became very clear to me that he had connections in high places. When he found me, he did not yell or scream or cry, he was laughing as he slammed my face into the paisley yellow carpet in the motel room. He told me plainly that night after he had his fun that if I ever left again, he would kill me. By this time, I had learned what it looked like when he lied. When he told me that he had never said truer words."

I could feel Paul shaking behind me and I could not hold off any longer, turning around in his grasp I wrapped my legs over his, his face mirrored my own with streaks of tear lines flowing down his face. His eyes were focused intensely at the ocean behind me and his jaw was clenched, he was still as a statue except for the slight shaking of his frame.

"I can stop..." I said leaving the decision up to Paul.

He shook his head and motioned me to continue.

"A few weeks after my escape attempt, he had a business meeting in Port Angeles. He took me on every business trip, I guess afraid that I would try and run again and get too much of a head start if he was gone. On the drive, he had been in and out of different phone calls and was in a terrible mood. Eventually, he needed me out of the car, we stopped off in the first turn off we could get to, La Push.

I sat on that beach and became mesmerized by the water, it seemed so different than the ocean I was used to. There was something about it that drew me in, the crashing waves that day were angry and violent, but out behind them was the calmest water I have even seen. Before I knew what I was doing I was standing before it, then I was running, trying to reach the calm water that was calling to me and trying to get away from the man behind me. I was pulled under and instead of fighting to get back to the surface, I let the water take me. Everything went quiet, it was cold and salty and I felt something for the first time in so long."

I cupped his face between my two hands and forced his eyes to look at me, "Then you saved me. As much as I was at peace during my momentary lapse in judgment, I was undoubtedly thankful to have you pull me from the ocean's depths. I felt baptized anew coming from that water and then I saw you and felt this uncanny connection between the two of us. In those ten months between you saving me and me coming here I often caught myself thinking of your eyes."

I leaned forward and placed the softest of kisses on his lips. It was chaste but still made me feel warm throughout. Pulling back I continued.

"He was angry, as I am sure you remember," I pulled down the collar of my t-shirt to uncover my left shoulder. A long raised pink scar trailed from just below my clavicle and disappeared down under my bra onto the left of my chest. "That night was the worst it has ever been. He held nothing back, at one point he broke a glass in the hotel room and he held me down as he used a piece of it to carve this deep cut. His eyes were that of a crazed man, it was as if he was no longer in control of himself and if it were not for a noise complaint call we got from the hotel security I am not sure what would have happened that night.

I knew that from that night on what my choices were; stay and eventually be killed by this man or run and hope he never finds me. So, I started planning. I was smarter this time, I knew that I had to have a solid plan, so I bided my time collecting money in small amounts and quietly researching bus routes. It took eight months to get all the plans sorted and another two for the opportunity to arise. I knew that I could take nothing with me; no identification, no phone, no name. My name, my real name is Amelia Sinclaire."

Paul quietly whispered my name back at me and despite everything that made me smile slightly.

"Through all of this, Tom still believed himself to be in love with me. He gave me this two weeks before I left," I pulled out a small silver ring with a large diamond balanced in the middle. Paul's eyes locked in on it as I fidgeted it between my fingers back and forth. "It ended up being the perfect final push to leave."

"On the day I ended up leaving he had left to go out drinking after a particularly bad incident, I had a large gash in my side and leg and my face was bruised pretty badly and I knew that he would be gone long enough for me to clean up the house and myself. That gave me enough hours to disappear. My plan was never to stay in La Push, I had been feeling a calling to come here from the moment we drove away that day but I did not want to stay anywhere that I had ever been with him. Then I ran into Diana and she stitched me up and let me stay with her and then I met you and Al and everyone else- this place became my home."

I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes, breathing in and savoring this moment.

"Which is why it is going to be so difficult to leave here tomorrow."

His head snapped away from mine, eyes boring fearfully into mine.

Author's Note

That was difficult to write, I have several friends who have been involved in domestic abuse and I hope to do it justice in this story. I really appreciate all of your feedback, it is very lovely. To answer a guest's question, this is set several years post-twilight. Emma is around 24 and Paul 26.