A/N:

Hey guys. I'm back with my second fic. Although I still have to complete the final chapters of my previous story "Follow You" I decided to submit this in the mean time as it was written quite a while ago. This story is about childhood promises and the struggle of letting go and accepting reality. I hope you consider reading it :-)

The plot will jump from scenes from the past to the present, in order for you to understand where the characters are presently. It will be a dual POV changing from Bella to Edward.

DISCLAIMER: ALL characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Sometimes I feel
Like I wanna leave this place for good
Under the ground
I'll live down there without a sound
And never hear these hissing voices all the same
I'll disappear 'cause living makes me feel ashamed

I must believe
There's more above us and below
I must believe
Stranded with this bitch called hope
It keeps me here
When all I wanna do is go
It keeps me here
When all I wanna do is disappear

[Chorus]
If this is it
All we have and ever will
If this is it
Time is running out, I'm standing still
I leave today
'Cause there's nothing left to keep me here
I'll fade away
I'll turn my back and disappear

The city moans
And lunges up right from the ground
The seething earth
It opens up and spits us out
This vicious child
Nature never wanted us
This vicious child

Above and Below - The Bravery

Chapter 1

BPOV

Present

"Lord, my God, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change." Deep breath. "Our father who art in heaven…"

"Isabella, lights out now honey?" Rene, my mother and the towns admired social worker, lightly taps on my white wooden door, saying things that no seventeen year old should be told on a summer's night.

I'm thinking I'm too old to be hearing things meant for a preteen, but keeping my mouth shut is the only option.

Because silent voices and sealed lips are safe.

It was Saturday evening and unlike the rest of the adolescents in this town, I am hidden in my wallpapered room with frilly bed sheets and a shelf filled with porcelain dolls that harbour dust.

"Just a minute, Ma." I say, rushing over to my closet. Although it's hot and humid, my mom would never approve of me leaving my room without being appropriately covered.

My silky night dress that settled way above my knee, is quickly covered by my cotton robe.

Again, it's safe.

Stepping out of my room, my mom's sea blue eyes waits with a humble smile on her equally humble face. "I made you some vanilla tea. Drink up and have a good night's rest."

I nod-smile-appreciate my this woman's kind gesture, and take the warm mug from her caring hands.

"Thanks, Ma. I love you." I whisper, kissing her on the cheek.

I mean it.

"Good night my precious girl. God bless you always. Did you say good night to your father?"

"Yes I did, thanks." I say, taking a deep breath while feeling naked underneath her questioning glare.

"See you in the morning. Bright and early." Rene sing-songs as she turns off the light in the hallway.

Turning around, I close my door and lean against it for several seconds. I don't drink the vanilla tea because why can't it be coffee.

Walking into my on suite bathroom, I pour the sweet golden liquid down the drain, apologising to God for my moment of ungratefulness.

For the last five years, every night one of my parents would knock on my door, ensuring I said my prayers and checking that my room is neat. You see? I learnt a long time ago that perfection is the best denial out there.

The Swans live and breathe, picket white fences, pearls and suburban living. And just like my family, I am loved and admired because that is how I was raised to be.

My life wasn't always like this. In fact, I guess I am the only one who regards my blessings as more of a curse. When my brother died at the age of fifteen, my parents dedicated their lives to the church. One degree in Theology later and an ordainment, my father, Charles Swan was given the title of Fairview's number one Pastor.

I always wished I could thank the good Lord for my latest Barbie dolls or my pink summer dresses, but that didn't matter.

I loved cars and bikes and soccer balls. I loved singing in the shower and dancing in the mirror. But what I got was invites to Debutante balls and all my dancing and singing was reserved for praise and worship in our church.

When I was little, I played in the mud and I loved laughing to the point of causing myself painful hiccups. I was bubblegum popping and vulgar burping. I loved wearing plaid shirts and baggy shorts. And I would never get into trouble if I came home dust-filled and dirty because I had my brother by my side.

Ben made me happy and I wish he didn't have to die.

We were the terrible two, the super siblings. We were the best cliche out there.

Until we weren't

But that doesn't change the fact that my brother was my hero. Although he was only two year my senior, I looked up to him like he was my own personal God. I loved him because he was always supposed to be my other half.

Until he wasn't.

Benjamin Swan was born with weak heart but he was once the strongest person I knew. Unlike me, my brother relied on medicinal support to gain his next breath. He was the boy who carried his Asthma pump wherever he went, and then one day, it wasn't strong enough to help him breathe.

My mom and dad said I was his miracle. But if I look at it today, I feel I was born as product of keeping his soul alive. Although my heart beats eighteen, they treat me like I am the fifteen year old son that they've lost years ago.

I spent more birthdays in hospitals than running in parks with balloons and blowing out candles surrounded by friends.

I get that God needed him more than what I did, but still, I wish I could hurt and mourn in the way the rest of society does.

And while he left this world physically, I left this earth emotionally.

Because maybe he's not the only person I am mourning for. Maybe he's not the only person who left.

When I was five years old, Benji and I were out front riding on our bicycles. Ben had a tricycle at the age of seven because he was a little off balance and my parents didn't want him to risk losing his breathe while playing outside.

Does that even make sense?

At the time I didn't understand why I was younger and I could ride 'big kids' bikes while he had to resort to a third wheel. But mommy and daddy explained, and I understood.

Why wouldn't I?

13 years ago.

"Bella, wait up!" Ben called, breathless as always.

"I am. Huwwy Benji!" I scrunched my nose, riding in circles as I waited for him to peddle my way. Once my brother caught up with me, we raced to the end of the Suburban street, and as always, I allowed him to win.

"I win! I win!" Deep dimples threw his arms up in victory. He had beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and his sun kissed knuckles were turning red due to the strong grip he had on the handle bars.

I was too young to understand why this little win meant so much to him, but I allowed him to celebrate and smile and be happy like he wasn't seven and seated on a tricycle.

I smiled, secretly patting myself on the back because I wanted my brother to believe that he was my hero. He was my winner.

Allowing him to regain his breath and inhale the plastic tube in his pocket, Ben and I slowly peddled back to our house. Two minutes later, we stopped on our bikes at the sight of a moving truck next door.

"Do you think Mr and Mrs Clearwater are going away?" I asked, lifting up my eyebrow. Too young to understand death, I had no idea that Mrs Clearwater had left the earth months before.

Ben, always eager to explore his surroundings, suddenly peddled as fast as he could, up the neighbour's lawn. Of course, I followed.

"Well hello. Who might you be?" Lifting my head up to meet the voice of an angel, a woman who was prettier than those girls who entered beauty pageants, smiled a welcomed smile.

"Uh…uh…I'm not allowed to talk to strangers." I said, feeling guilty.I wanted to tell her that she was pretty, but I didn't know her.

"That's my sister, Bella. She's five and I am seven. Now why are you here?" Ben, always my saviour, jumped to my rescue.

By now, a man came prancing from around the moving truck with a look of disarray, "Esme, where the fuck is the box labelled appliances? I fucking told Maria to keep that…" A man who said way too many dirty words stopped in mid-sentence.

"You did swore! You did swore!" I yelled at him, pointing my finger in accusation.

Lifting up his arms in surrender, the man smiled and walked over to stand beside the lady. "Well I'm sorry kids. Who are you?"

"That's my sister, Bella, She's five and I am seven. You didn't answer my question?" Ben said, tapping his foot like he owned this street.

With some laughter, the two pretty people who invaded Mr and Mrs Clearwater's house began to respond together.

"We're your new neighbours I guess…" The lady murmured, looping her arm around the guy who cusses.

"These kids are something…" The guy said, scratching his head with a pleasant smile.

They introduced themselves as Esme and Carlisle, and they told us that the Clearwater's sold their house to them.

"You can only move here on one condenition?" I said, folding my arms like my daddy always did when he laid down rules.

"And what might that be?" Esme asked, her attention was directed to the boxes she was now unpacking from her shiny big car.

These people, too busy to give us much attention, but too kind to care, kept Benji and I entertained as they appreciated our presence.

"Never swear again. It's a bad word and Jesus will punish you."

"Okay." She laughed. "No more swearing from this household."

And that was the biggest lie I ever heard.

While Ben and I were annoying our neighbours with unlimited questions that any five and seven year old would ask, a boy, who was abit taller than me walked towards his parents with his eyes fixed on a portable gamer.

With the sound of fighting coming from the screen, Ben and I immediately watched him stagger over.

The boy had on worn out All Star shoes, with loose laces. His black sweater had an image of a skeleton. I wanted to close my eyes at the picture because it made me afraid, but when he looked up and spotted Ben and I, his serious expression moulded into a smile.

"Cool…what game is that?" Ben asked, rushing over, leaving my side.

"It's Tekken 3. Wanna play?" I'm pretty sure he asked my brother, but he was looking between us.

"Sure!" Ben responded eagerly. "Bella, wait here. These games are for strong fighters."

Even though I felt betrayed by my brother's sudden absence, I smiled and offered to help Esme.

"Can I help you?" I asked with pleading eyes.

"Well…sure honey. Wanna grab the small boxes on the seat and carry it to the living room?"

Nodding enthusiastically, I began helping Esme.

Walking in and out carrying tiny boxes, I spoke nonstop as my brother and the boy with the skeleton T-shirt sat on the porch and played games.

What felt like hours gone by, the familiar presence of the two people who loved us unconditionally walked on over.

"There you are. Ben and Bella…did you ask the new neighbours if you could be here? I'm so sorry if our kids were a bother…"

"No, no. Your daughter over here was such a help. And your son, he did us the best favour of keeping our little one out of trouble." Esme smiled and then averted her gaze towards their porch. "Hey Edward, come meet the neighbours."

Hearing groaning from the porch, I quickly leaned up and motioned for my dad to listen. Whispering into his ear, I said, "Daddy, that boy is wearing an evil sweater, and he plays games where people hit eachother."

My father only smiled, and then he shook the hands of our new neighbours.

That was the first day I met the Cullens. Little did I know the huge impact they would have on our lives.

With the coming weeks, months and years, Edward and Ben were attached at the hip. While Edward gave Ben the power to feel his inner strength, Ben was there to keep Edward out of trouble.

Until he wasn't.

Until Ben died.

Until I was left with two parents denying a broken heart, and a boy who had no reason to stay out of trouble anymore.

My brother broke his promise and he left me alone in this world.

His best friend broke my heart by leaving me alone in this town.

Present

"Isabella, you did great." Michael Newton aka Mike aka my boyfriend waved over as I was standing outside the church steps.

With a bright Sunday morning, I felt fluttery under the stare of the boy who matched up to my parents expectations.

"Thanks Mike." I smiled, hating how everyone called me by my full name. When Ben was alive I was Bella, and now I am known as Isabella who has a deceased brother named Benjamin.

"So did you ask your parents if I could take you out for an ice-cream after lunch?" Mike questioned, straitening his tie.

He was the typical church boy and top of his class. Like myself, Mike was a youth leader, a role-model and perfect.

Only, he wasn't perfect for me. We both knew that, but we were too young and cowardly to deny what everyone expected.

Celibate and saving ourselves until marriage, the pastor's daughter and the boy in the church choir are meant to be forever.

"Yes, I'm so sorry that I didn't inform you. My mom and I are going to the hospital to hand out baby bags after lunch. Do you mind if we reschedule?"

"Uh…sure." My boyfriend said looking all kinds of disappointed.

"Tomorrow is another day." I smiled with my hands behind my back, tippy-toed and apologetic.

"That ice-cream will be melted by tomorrow." He said, teasing. "But then again, we could get Chinese?"

"Perfect," I nodded, kissing him on his rosy cheeks. Just as I was waving to Mikes parents, my parents came strolling over hand in hand. My father, with a bible placed underneath his arm, kissed me on my forehead as he clicked the key to unlock the car door.

"I'm proud of you always, baby girl. Let's go."

"Thanks, daddy." I introduced a smile that any father would kill to see their only daughter display. Only my smile was a mask. My smile was my biggest lie because it hid all the pain I wasn't allowed to feel.

In the car, I stared out the window as the sound of gospel hymns floated in the air, coming from my parents stereo. My parents were talking about God as usual, and for a moment I gazed at them and hated what I saw.

Pretence. Hurt. Denial.

Brushing away that thought, I closed my eyes until I was welcomed with the sound of the ignition turning off.

As I pulled down my summer dress, I reached for my handbag on the seat and climbed out of the car.

And suddenly, I was five years old again.

Because with moving trucks and cussing words…the Cullen's were back.

He was back.

Haunting and hating, my brother's best friend returned.

I think.

I know.

A/N I really hope you enjoyed that. I'll appreciate any comments or feedback.

Thanks