We don't own...
Sorry for the delay. Life has been busy and then I just didn't sit down and get this up.
Hey, Mystic and I would really like to apologize for the irratic posting schedule for this story, but real life sometimes gets in the way of 'creative genius'! LOL! Between work, kids, home renovations and personal health issues, it's difficult to crank out a chapter on a regular basis-- especially when we are working on this together and have such different lives! Hopefully we'll hit our stride with this again once things settle down, but please know that both of us have every intention of finishing this story-- whether you like it or not! ;) Thanks for your suppport and understanding in this! You are all absolutely fantastic!
OrangeBlossom
CPOV
Over the next week and a half, I made it part of my nightly ritual to check on Bella before going to bed and tonight was no exception. As I found her every night, she was curled into a ball in one corner of the bed, the comforter wrapped around her in such a way that all I could see was the top of her head. She had a fondness for corners, probably feeling as if they were safe. I'd have to make sure the bed in her new room was pushed against the wall for her.
Post-traumatic stress disorder. The term churned in my mind as I stood just inside the doorway watching her, the light from the hall making a beam on the floor. How she had survived for so long on her own like this was a mystery. Heck, just saying PTSD made me feel as though I was giving her a life sentence—forever trapped in a Hell of her own making. Typically in these especially severe cases, the person would have been isolated and maybe institutionalized; forced to live a life filled with therapies and meds and only the faintest hope of coming out at the end of all this still intact. But, Bella seemed to be an exception to the rule. Not only hadn't she been isolated or institutionalized, she'd managed to work and make a living. If she ever got better, I'd have to discuss that with her and discover how she'd managed it.
My family seemed positive that we could help her and didn't need to put her in a mental institute. In fact, with the exception of Rosalie, they'd all approached me individually over the course of the last week and demanded that the option of treating her by sending her away be taken right off the table. Rubbing my chin with one hand, I started mulling it over. I was a qualified doctor. Granted, I'd given up my private practice more than a year ago to finally spend time with Esme now that the kids were older and away from the house more, but I was still licensed to practice in the states of California and Illinois. I could help her. I just wasn't positive that the help she needed was help I could give her. She wasn't a veteran returning from war; that would have been a little easier. I could ask about the war, the explosions, the fires, the screams…something tangible. No, she was a girl with an unknown past that had been, if her panic attacks were any indication, extremely traumatic. What could have happened to her?
The scars I'd seen on her legs bespoke of serious harm to her and over half of them had long since faded beyond white to the point where they were nearly invisible. They'd happened when she was young, of that much I was sure. Who would be so cruel as to torture a small child? She should have been protected and cherished. I knew that Alice and Rosalie had pasts not dissimilar to Bella's, but at least they'd come to us early enough for us to do some good.
I thought back to the two of them and how they'd come to us, all those years ago. If Doctor Gerandy hadn't been out sick with the flu that evening, we may never have had the opportunity to get to know those two spitfires. I shook my head chuckling in memory of that first day at their new home back in Chicago; Alice dancing up the steps of our red-bricked townhouse and Rosalie gliding in behind her—looking like she'd cut anyone who dared get too close.
I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. Rosalie.
The house had been a flurry of secret conversations this past week…not just in respect to Bella's treatment plan. None of us could understand the animosity Rosalie felt towards our newest addition. Esme, especially, was terribly disappointed in her reaction. She'd hoped that Rosalie would reach out and help Bella come to terms with her past. Esme's background in psychology was a great asset in helping all of the children as they came to us, and Esme had been so convinced that Rosalie would be Bella's greatest ally in her recovery.
To be honest, so had I. Alice had suffered terribly on the streets, and we knew that her parents had been less than tender with her quirks and idiosyncrasies, forcing experimental medications and treatments on her in order to force her to tow the line, but Rosalie had suffered horribly at the hands of her foster father for years before she had finally fled—seeking refuge in the alleys and parks of Chicago rather than bear the pain of more sexual abuse.
What baffled me was that Rosalie was so adamant that Bella was trying to trick us all. If only she'd come out and interact with her. Jasper, Edward, Esme and I had all seen the physical proof of her horrific past…all Rosalie had to do was look—really look—and she'd see that no one was that good an actor…
"Carlisle?" Esme whispered, coming up behind me.
"Yes, love?"
"Emmett, Jasper and Alice are trying to do a discreet burger run right now… which of course means that we need to be prepared for some crazy TMZ story to run about their late night drug frenzy…ugh. I told them not to bother getting anything for you as it's late and you need to be watching your cholesterol anyways."
I could hear the playfulness in her voice. "Oh, hush woman!" I teased back. "A little In-n-Out burger now and then won't kill me!" I couldn't keep from laughing at my own joke.
Esme went quiet.
"What are you doing?" Esme inquired, walking closer to me.
I turned my head, finally looking over my shoulder at her. "I was just checking on Bella. We need to be sure that when she's moved into a new room, the bed is up against the wall, Sweetheart."
Esme's baffled expression asked her question before she even spoke. "Why?"
I nodded in Bella's direction. "She likes corners. Probably gets a sense of safety from them. It would most likely war with the fact that part of her knows they are traps as well, but I'm willing to say that the safety she found in them afterwards overrides that common sense."
"You're probably right. Didn't you say that her panic attacks here had involved her finding the nearest corner?" Esme queried, watching Bella sleep.
"Yes," I nodded, turning around to wrap my arms around Esme's waist. I sighed as I continued, "I'm not sure I can help her, Esme. What she needs may go beyond what I can give."
"You can do it, Carlisle. I have absolute faith in you. Besides, you have me. This may go beyond standard talk therapy, but you know that I'll do everything I can to help. Most all of us will. Anyways, I don't think it's just the medical help that she needs so much as a loving home as well. She needs to see that not all men are evil, and what better place to see that than here…with all of us." Esme buried her face in my neck, shaking her head. "Her body is covered in scars from head to toe, Carlisle. Whatever she's been through, tragic doesn't even begin to cover it. It's as if she were tortured. How anyone could do that to her…and how could no one have known?!"
"I know, Esme." I whispered into her hair. "I'm just as confused by it as you are." I shook my head and took a deep breath. "She can't go back to work, you know. If I'm to help her, we'll need to do some isolating. She needs to be around just a few select people. Heaven help us if she were to have another run in with that Mike person Edward told us about. After all this time away from that sort of stress, who knows what would happen if he snuck up behind her while she was concentrating on something on set. No. We have to get her desensitized to the presence of others before we have her try working with others. If she goes back to work too soon, whatever we may do could be undermined, and Bella's psyche could be irreparably damaged."
Esme leaned back, looking up at me, tears glistening in her eyes. "What do you propose to do?"
Rubbing her back, I answered. "I'll call the studio and release her medically. If I do that, I might be able to put her job on hold so she has one to return to. It's the only way. You'll have to convince her that she needs to remain here. She's bonded with you. She cares for you. She'll listen to you."
I stopped speaking for a moment, and thought. "She's been interacting with Jasper some, hasn't she?"
Esme nodded, snuggling against me again, her tears wetting my shirt, not that I cared. "Yes. Very little though. She's managed to stand being in a room with him for short periods of time, but never alone. She isn't cowering in the corner, though, and that's a start." She sounded muffled, but optimistic.
"How did he achieve that?" I inquired, intrigued. I could hardly believe what Esme had said. Jasper? We all knew that Edward felt something for Bella from the moment he stepped through the doors with her in his arms that first day. He had all but demanded that he be a part of her medical care, wanting to ensure that she knew he cared for her, in all aspects. He was working so hard to have her be comfortable with him. I could only hope that the other boys were extending the same effort—cautiously.
Esme interrupted my thoughts. "They were in the library." She explained. "Alice described it to me in vivid detail. Basically, Jasper treats her like a deer caught in headlights. She's very stiff around him, but he's aware and moves slowly and cautiously, keeps his hands where she can see them at all times and maintains a distance that gives Bella a nice head start should he attempt to harm her," Esme explained, pulling out of my arms to close Bella's bedroom door before leading me upstairs.
"Hmmm…yes, that would work. She's obviously tolerating it, as I haven't been called upon in any medical capacity since those first few days." Esme stiffened at my statement. I was curious of her reaction, but figured it was the stress of this last week and a half. I caressed her back again and decided to press on with my thoughts. "I take it then he's supplying her with plenty of reading material, then?"
Esme snorted in response. "Oh my, yes! In fact, I'd say plenty is an understatement. Next time you go into her room, go during the day and look on her floor beside the nightstand. She's got quite the stack of books in there. I think she's about a quarter way through 'War and Peace' right now."
Hmm. Bella was a bright girl it seemed. If what I thought happened, had indeed, I doubted she'd gone to college. It might do her some good to stimulate her mind. Help her overcome, or at least learn to deal with, whatever had happened to her. "Maybe we should hire a tutor for her," I mused aloud.
"A tutor?" Esme looked back at me as we walked up the stairs.
"Yes. I have a feeling she didn't attend college, which would explain why someone as bright as her has the job she does. I think if we were to challenge her mind, give her a chance to better herself and get a better job, it would do her some good. There has to be a female tutor we could hire. I'll call and talk to the college about Bella doing off campus studies."
Esme tilted her head to the side and I could see the wheels in her mind turning, thinking over what I'd said. "You may be right. I'll discuss it with her and see what she thinks of the idea."
"Oh, And the not going back to work. Don't forget that you'll have to be the one to broach to her that she shouldn't return, at least right away. Convince her to stay here." I hesitated. "Esme?" I struggled to find the right words. "Are you sure you want to do this?. There's a lot more to Bella than there was to any of the others. This might not take a month… or even three or six. This is a long road we're going to have to travel."
I paused midway through the doorway of our room as Esme whirled around on me, glaring at me as if I'd just announced that I was having an affair.
"That girl has started putting her trust in someone, us, however small it may be. At least the seed has been planted, and I will not ship her off to some mental institute and destroy that trust. She needs and deserves better than that and I intend to see that she gets it. Between the lot of us, I think we can manage. Do you doubt that?"
I held my hands up in a sign of surrender. "Not at all, Sweetheart… not at all. I just needed to make sure that you understood what you were choosing. I can see that you do." I smiled gently to her.
She nodded, smiled back condescendingly to me and patted my cheek, not saying a word as she walked out of the room. I waited until she was out of earshot before sighing in relief. There were times like these when I cursed myself soundly for forgetting how protective Esme could be over her children, or those she loved. Whether I had the qualifications or not, it seemed that I was going to be helping Bella. Lord knew I was going to need some help myself.
RPOV
A week and a half. How much longer would everyone take to finally realize that this was all a plot to take us for a hefty sum of cash? The more I'd stewed over this, the more I realized that those idiot siblings of mine had put us in the perfect position to be blackmailed. I could see the headlines now, 'Cullen Family Tragedies: A Closer Look at the Pain Behind the Smiles'.
I couldn't get the image of those fools showing off their scars in that kitchen out of my mind. Hell, I could barely stand to look at Emmett after that spectacle; putting his past on display like that! Why couldn't they see what she was?
… and why was everyone turning on me?
* Ring*… *Ring*…
I was startled by the shrillness of the cell phone ringing on my vanity, somehow managing to dash across the room and answer before the third ring. I crossed my fingers, hoping this would be the call that would bring this hell to an end. She'd had plenty of time to find anything on her.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Hale?" The child-like quality to her voice was maddening. Hell, it made me want to shove an ice pick into my eardrum! But Victoria was the best in the business, and it was that voice that made it. Men were constantly underestimating her abilities, assuming she was nothing more than a hot, dumb sexpot. I knew what that was like…and I knew the power that it provided for women like us…and that was exactly what I needed.
"Yes." I replied coolly, trying to keep the eagerness to a minimum.
"Ms. Hale, this is Victoria Langdon. I apologize for calling at such a late hour. How are you this evening?"
Her polite tone was grating on my nerves. "Cut to the chase. What have you found out about the little interloper?" I couldn't even pretend to be patient at this point.
"Well, um…" she sounded hesitant.
Oh, shit. That couldn't be good.
"Well, I've done as extensive a background check as any legal means can allow me, and I can't find anything in her history to suggest that she's anything but a poor woman who is down on her luck..." She trailed off, as though she were holding something back.
"Unacceptable!" I shrieked. "That's a load of BULLSHIT and you know it!" I hollered into the phone. "That bitch is hiding something, and you are going to find out what it is!"
The line was silent for a moment before a throat cleared. "Ms. Hale…" She paused. "I only said that the check being conducted by 'legal means' failed to provide results. You didn't allow me the opportunity to finish…"
"FUCK! Stop playing word games with me! Either you have something or you don't!" I didn't bother to keep my frustration in check.
"Ms. Hale. I don't think what I've uncovered on your… *ahem*… houseguest is exactly what you're looking for…but it is certainly more than anyone else would be able to find. She has an extraordinarily "unfortunate' past that required some serious finessing on my part to have exposed, and I'm honestly not sure that this is something to be shared…"
I could almost feel the venom in my mouth as I spoke the words, "I am not paying you for your integrity or your ethics, Victoria. You will be compensated generously for any hardships you've had to suffer as a result of this particular job…and for your discretion once you've served your purpose…now spill."
The silence on the other end of the line made me nervous. Did she hang up on me while I went on my little tirade? NO! No one dares to hang up on Rosalie Hale…right?
A throat cleared again and I stopped myself from continuing my train of thought. Of course no one would hang up on me…
"Why are you doing this?" The softness of the question startled me.
"What do you mean?" I replied, cautiously.
"Oh, don't panic, Ms. Hale. I'll give you what you've paid for…and probably more, but I am curious. What has she done? If you gave me a clue as to what you suspected, I could direct my investigation in a more specific direction. Does she deal drugs? Is she a prostitute? Did she cheat off of a test of yours while in high school? What you've told me is…well…forcing me to take some rather questionable measures. I'd like to know why I'm taking the risk--"
Huh.
All it took was the one question to bring me back to then… that time that I fought so hard to leave behind. "What has she done?"
Suddenly, there I was, standing in the entrance to that back alley—shivering in my too thin coat and my threadbare jeans.
It had been days since I'd really slept for more than an hour or so at a time and I was exhausted. It seemed like all the bums in Chicago had extra money for booze as it got closer to the holidays and always managed to find themselves either rowdy or fucking puking right by where I'd be trying to catch a bit of shut-eye. I couldn't take it much longer.
Nessie, another girl from the street, was shivering beside me. I knew she was getting desperate for a break from the streets, too, 'cuz she had that look in her eye. Nessie had been on the streets for a lot longer than I at this point, and the streets had made her hard. She always had an angle and always looked out for numero uno…Nessie. I could barely imagine what she'd do this time.
"Hey, Goldilocks?" She suddenly whispered beside me.
"Yeah?"
"Do you see that mark over there?" She jutted her chin out and toward an older gentleman standing under an awning across the street from us; white hair, glasses, trench coat buttoned up to his eyeballs and an umbrella wedged safely under his arm. He was obviously waiting for someone who was running late. Damn it. Why him?! He looked like someone's grandpa and I wished she'd have picked someone else for her next scheme.
I barely repressed my sigh of frustration, "Yes, Nessie, I see him."
"I've decided I'd like to take a shower and maybe have a nice, home cooked meal…I think that Gramps over there looks like just the fella to provide that. He might need a little motivation before he offers it up, though. Before I move, do you want in on the action?"
I cringed as she chuckled. The plans were already churning about it that deviant mind of hers. I shook my head, declining any part in her scheme.
Nessie harrumphed, "Fine, suit yourself bitch," and turned to face the alley wall.
I had no idea what she was doing and almost didn't care when I heard the click and fast swish of the switchblade. Suddenly she hissed in pain.
"Nessie?" I was concerned.
"What?!" She demanded as she turned back to face me.
I covered my mouth to prevent myself from screaming aloud. The river of blood streaming down the side of her face was gruesome. Her brown eyes were wide for a moment, then a slow blink brought her back into the game she'd set out to play. Already the droplets were dripping into her dark brown hair, staining the collar of her coat and dotting the rest.
"Nessie? What are you doing?!"
"I told you, idiot!" Nessie sneered. "I want a shower and a meal and not all of us have your angelic features…we can't all get by with a wink and a smile…and the ability to give a killer blow job. Does he remind you of someone you used to 'service'? Is this a trip down memory lane for you, Goldilocks?" My stomach churned at her implication.
"Look, there's nothing wrong with playing the sympathy card…" she sneered as she explained. "A little stagger, a little whimper…that sucker is going to be wrapped around my little finger. Hell, I'd be willing to bet that I remind him of one of his favorite grandchildren." She snorted in amusement.
"Ness. Please. Can't you pick someone else? Let him be? I'm sure you can find someone else to target…someone who can give you more than just a shower and dinner…" I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice. I needed her to pick anyone but him. "Big John is always looking for new girls to…"
Nessie interrupted me. "Puhleeze," She drawled. "If you'd wanted him so badly, you should have said something before I decided to mark up my face." She turned and started to walk away, then looked back at me. "Besides, if I was going to ask Big John for any favors, I'd bring you as an offering." She winked at me, rubbed her eyes vigorously, then smiled. "Wish me luck."
And then she was gone.
It not like I followed the news or anything, but it was only the next day when we all heard what Nessie had done. Stuff like that hits the streets pretty fast, especially when it's one of us. An old man and his invalid wife had been murdered in their twin beds…heads smashed in with a lamp and throats slit for good measure…with a switchblade.
I can still feel the hard cement under my knees as I knelt between the garbage cans and heaved until I thought I'd start spewing internal organs. I couldn't believe she'd done something so evil to someone who reminded me so much of…
I couldn't even think his name.
He had been such a good man—and so good to me when no one else was.
And he was gone—again.
Nessie had defiled someone so kind and…and …
…And it wasn't really him, but it was all the same to me. One more person gone. One more person who will never be able to tell me that it will be alright while I eat chocolate chip cookies on his porch when I try to put off going home to my torturers, night after night. One more person who was infected by the filth I seem to attract.
What had she done?
I hate my life.
"Ms. Hale?" That wretched voice interrupted my thoughts, and I was startled. Placing my hand to my face, I found proof of my 'stroll down memory lane', and quickly wiped the traitorous tears from my cheeks.
"What!?" I snapped.
"I'm sorry, you just didn't answer my question and then didn't say anything at all. I thought that…"
"No. Don't think. Just do. Get your ass off this phone and find me something concrete on the enigma that is Isabella Swan!"
Ms. Langdon was silent for just a moment, probably trying to find some way to salvage the civility of this conversation. It was too late for that.
"Ms. Hale?"
This was starting to annoy me to the nth degree. Time to wrap it up, lady. "Look, the next time I hear from you, I want to hear bunches about her. I don't want to hear that she had some miserable fucking life because she didn't get a bike for her tenth birthday and her friends teased her in junior high and her prom date stood her up—all because her mother didn't breastfeed her enough. You bring me something real. I want to ensure that she never comes near anyone I love—EVER AGAIN. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear, Ms. Hale." She whispered.
I was about to disconnect when I remembered her simple question…why? "And Ms. Langdon? In regard to your earlier question…all I can say is that Ms. Swan reminds me of an old friend, and I'll leave it at that."
I snapped my phone shut and closed my eyes. I am not that person anymore…I am not that person anymore…
The personal affirmation shit wasn't working, so I turned to leave my room. A good, stiff drink would settle me better than anything else I could try right now.
Needless to say, I was not prepared for what I saw when I opened my eyes to go.
Edward looked shell-shocked as he stood in my doorway, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally found the strength to speak aloud, "Rosalie? What? ...what the hell have you done?"
All I could think was, "Fuck. I really need to remember to close my door."