Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all recognisable characters and their traits. All Twilight related material, including situations and characterisations remain her property.

This is my first attempt at a human story.

Full Prologue:

Bella Swan has only ever loved once. Too bad that he never knew she existed.

Using her best friends offer of marriage to escape a bad situation at home Bella hopes she's finally landed on her feet. A surprise pregnancy snatches her hope out from under her feet and her supposed saviour turns into a jealous, possessive manipulator that ends up being far more dangerous than what she had ever faced at home.

Reconnecting with her teenage crush only puts her in more danger, until both her and her baby are snatched from the jaws of despair by a more than willing knight in shining surgical scrubs.

Do second chances really come along?

Chapter 1 – More To Love Than This

BPOV

There has to be more to love than this. That's what he'd told me as he slammed the front door this morning. His disgust crushed me. Just like he hoped it would. I could see it in his eyes, that glimmer of triumph that he'd once again managed to push me down so easily.

And I let him.

I always let him. I have to, he's all I've got. Him and the baby and this dump that we call home. I have nowhere else to go and nobody to help me if I went.

Elizabeth begins to cry and I square my shoulders and begin my day. I try to put out of my mind what's gone before and concentrate on my baby and what she needs. It is for her that I stay here and put up with this. She's worth it. She'll always be worth it.

This was the more he's been searching for. This love I have for my child is what's missing from his life. The unconditional acceptance and love I have for her is something he'll never understand and something he'll never experience if he continues as he is.

And yet I let him do what he does to us.

"Good morning sweetheart." I scoop her out of her crib. I wince as my ribs jolt. I know they are broken and I know there is nothing I can do about it, even if I went to the doctor they'd only give me a prescription for pain killers I couldn't afford to have filled. So I grit my teeth and try to ignore the pain. I take the baby with me to the bathroom across the hall from her tiny room. "A nice bath to start the day I think." I coo to her as I slip her little sleep suit from her body.

With one hand on her belly I lean over and run the bath with my other hand. I let the warm water run over my bloody knuckles and hope it's enough to clean them. They are swollen and tender but I don't think they are broken. I can't say the same for my toes this time, however. Two on my right foot are definitely broken and maybe one or two of the little bones on the top of my foot too. An x-ray would probably show a perfect boot imprint, but it's not like I was ever going to have an x-ray anyway.

I long to slip into the warm water with her but if he finds out I've bathed again this week I'll be in more trouble than I already am. He'll smell me the instant he comes in the door, he'll know if I'm cleaner than I should be. So in the interests of harmony I slide only Elizabeth into the shallow bath. I talk to her as I wash her. She's still too tiny to make noises of her own other than wailing, so I keep up her end of the conversation too. I tell her how beautiful she is, how soft her skin is, how much I love her and how lucky I am to have her. I hope she believes me even though I've made sure her start in life is a hellish one. I tell her I'm sorry for that too.

I watch with barely concealed longing as the last of the water drains away from her bath and then I wrap her in my one and only clean towel. I'm only allowed two. One for her, one for me, and only one of them is allowed to be washed frequently. Mine is a rag and hangs on the back of the door. Hers is soft and clean and smells of sunshine and lavender.

I take her to her room and lie her down on the padded changing table. I dry her carefully and slip another little suit over her head once her diaper is in place. I'm not allowed to have cloth nappies so she has to wear disposable ones, but I've decided I don't care. As long as she's comfortable that's what matters. I comb her hair even though she barely has enough to need it and I hold her to me tightly while I walk the short distance to the kitchen. In the absence of strapping her body against mine helps me keep straight so the ache in my ribs isn't too bad.

My milk dried up weeks ago now, and luckily it did too. The health nurse at the clinic said it was probably from stress. I lied and said I didn't have any stress. She knew it was a lie and handed me a pamphlet about different formulas. I can't feed Elizabeth breast milk because my nipple is nearly gone. He's bitten it so often and so badly that it's almost black. I doubt it will ever truly heal. Elizabeth took well to the formula anyway, and that's all that matters.

The bulk of my food allowance goes on formula for the baby. I don't mind. She needs food way more than I do. My traitorous stomach grumbles its protest at that as I take a made up bottle out of the refrigerator and stand it in a pan of simmering water. Wasting water is also high on his list of bad habits so I have to be very careful with our consumption of this precious resource. He says it's hard enough to provide for me and 'that child' without me wasting his money on luxuries.

With Elizabeth at my hip I swirl the warm water around the bottom of the bottle to make it heat more evenly. After a few minutes I reposition the baby so that she's lying across my forearm so I can test the formula's temperature at my wrist. When it's perfect I turn off the burner and take her into the living room to feed her.

It's my favourite part of the day, when I feed her. She keeps her eyes open for as long as she can but eventually she can't fight the sleep that overtakes her when her belly is finally full.

I tuck her back into her crib and pull the blankets up under her chin. I take her towel back to the bathroom and hang it behind the door so it will dry. I use her still wet washcloth to rub at the dried blood at my temple and decide to use a little extra water to try to get it all out of my hair too. He'll think it's wasteful but I can't stand it matted in my hair this way. Having dirty hair is one thing, having it cling to your scalp because it's caked in two day old blood is entirely another. I won't have Elizabeth getting sick because I'm so grubby. I'll take whatever consequences he wants to dish out if it means she stays healthy.

I rinse the washcloth and rub it all over my face. Last week's bruise under my left eye is healing nicely. The fresh one on my cheek not so much. I can't open my right eye at all so I don't bother with that one. The swelling will go down in a few days and then I'll be fine. I run my tongue over the deep gash inside my mouth and realize that it's still bleeding lightly. It will take longer to heal than the one on my shoulder because it's always wet, but it will heal. I gingerly lift my jersey and inspect the blue mess that is my belly and chest. The skin isn't broken this time and I am relieved. It took a lot longer to heal there last time and I don't relish the thought of spending my mornings removing the remains of scabs off my putrid bed sheet again. I decide to take a risk and clean myself downstairs too. I put the plug into the vanity basin and run a tiny bit of water into it. I run the washcloth around the basin to wet it and then I run it up between my legs. I wince as the water hits the cut there. My skin is so sensitive I have to rub my nose and watering eyes on my sleeve before I can finish my haphazard cleanup job. I rinse the cloth again and give the area one last gentle pat. I know he's torn my perineum open again but there is nothing I can do about it now. It never got a chance to heal from the stitches I had there after Lottie was born and now the whole area feels hot and swollen and I realize I'm probably infected. I wonder again why he bothers with me. Why would he want to have sex with me when I'm like this? It hurts me, I know he knows that, and he hardly enjoys himself, it makes no sense. But he says I am his and he can do what he wants with me, and I guess that's what he wants from me.

I rinse the cloth again and hang it over the edge of the bath to dry.

I can't meet my own eyes when I look up and see my reflection in the mirror. I don't even recognise myself anymore. The woman I used to be doesn't exist any longer.

I used to tell myself, when I was standing in front of the mirror at my father's house wiping blood off my lip or massaging a new bruise, that one day I'd escape all that. I thought I had. At least, he promised I had. But I'd really only swapped one bully for another. At least this one was of my making. It wasn't my fault that my father was a violent drunk, but I'd chosen this life so had to put up with it.

Slowly I let my eyes travel up the mirror. "There has to be more to love than this." I whisper and wonder if I believe it. I know I don't love him, I never really did, but he says he's always loved me. Surely he has to know this isn't love?

I love another and he knows it, that's why he did this to me two nights ago. All it took was one phone call, one message of concern for my health left on the answering machine. I begged Edward not to do it again. I risked everything and used the phone to call the clinic and tell Edward to never do it again. He refused to make the promise to me but I had to hope that he believed me when I told him that it would be so very bad for me if he called here again.

I go in and make his bed and tidy up his room. I put his dirty clothes in the hamper and drag it to the little laundry room. I take his detergent box down out of the cupboard and set the machine to wash. I add fabric softener and long to be able to do the same to my clothes. These are luxuries that only he is allowed to indulge in these days. His clothes can be clean and bright and soft, mine just need to be clean, somewhat. My detergent is generic stuff that makes me itch. But its okay, I don't mind. I had to choose, the baby's clothes or mine, I chose hers. I'll itch for her for as long as I need to.

I go back past my bed on the floor in the hallway and pull the sheet up. I straighten the covers and make sure the corners are perfect. I fold yesterday's clothes up and put them in the pile I affectionately call 'only three days of filth'. It will be another four days before I'm allowed to wash those. I don't think he's worked out my system yet. By rationing out my clothes I can keep fairly clean. I have seven sets of clothes, all in various stages of dirty. By cycling through them I can make them last longer and always have at least one set that has only been worn once. Sometimes it works, at other times like when Lottie spits up on me or her diaper explodes – it's happened and it took me two weeks to get the clothing system back to normal after that – I go without clean clothes for a few days. It doesn't really matter because I don't see anyone anyway. There isn't anyone to notice that I smell bad or that my clothes reek.

I know the way I smell today is because of the infection but there is nothing I can do about it other than try to keep clean and drink as much as I can. That isn't easy when I'm not allowed to waste water. When it rains I catch water on the balcony in a bucket and use it to wash or to clean my clothes. Then I can drink more tap water because it won't show up on the bill. Thank god it rains a lot in Forks.

I check on the baby and when I'm satisfied that she's sleeping soundly I go and have my meal for the day. It's pretty pathetic but it has to be enough.

I take the pan of water and put it back on the burner. I take my little Tupperware container out of the fridge and unwrap yesterday's teabag and set it in the pan of water. I add sugar and the two ounces of milk I've worked out is perfect for a pan full of water and stir it until it starts to boil.

It's the world's weakest cup of tea because the teabag is on its fourth use, but it's better than drinking plain warm water. Just. I slip the much coveted aspirin between my teeth and drink them down with the first mouthful of tea. They don't do much but they help a little. I went without a roll of toilet paper to buy them with this week's allowance, so they had better do something.

I take down a box of crackers and take an apple from the bowl on the counter. Though I have no way to know I am guessing that I am surviving on just enough calories a day to sustain life. The rate at which I'm losing weight suggests I could use more, and the sick, nauseous feeling doesn't leave me these days, but I'm doing okay. The fever I have comes and goes and I rationalise that its part and parcel of having the infection. It won't kill me so I do my best to ignore it.

I know better than to ask for more money for food. So I have to get smarter and make my small allowance go further and further as he tightens the reins more and more.

I rinse my cup carefully, catching the excess water in a large pan that sits under the kitchen tap. I can use that water later on to hand wash my clothes, so I save it carefully every day. Only his clothes, and Elizabeth's clothes, are allowed in the washing machine.

I take a tray of frozen lasagne out of the freezer for his dinner and set it on the counter. I'll make salad to go with it seeing as it's so warm today. He likes lasagne.

Elizabeth doesn't sleep for long so when she wakes up I change her diaper and give her a little cooled boiled water with a few drops of fruit juice in it to sweeten it. It's so hot that her hair is matted and stuck to the back of her neck. I wish that I was allowed to bathe her again, to make her more comfortable. Instead I wipe her over with a wet cloth and change her out of her suit and put her in a little light cotton dress. I'm not allowed to have the fan on during the day so I open the windows in her room and hope that a cool breeze wafts through for her sleep later on.

At two and a half months old she's nearly nine pounds, I am guessing. I'm not allowed to take her to the clinic to be weighed anymore. The last time I took her she was growing steadily, putting on a couple of ounces a week, so I keep a check on her growth by weighing myself and then adding her to the scales. Her weight grows as mine drops, but that's okay. She's longer now too. I only know that because it's getting harder and harder to do up the buttons on her little suits at the crotch. If she stretches too much they pop. She could go up a size but he won't give me money for clothes for her, so I have to save for them from my food allowance. I figure that the money he gives me doesn't go too far now, but once she's using less diapers a day I'll have enough to replace some of her fundamental items.

I take her back into the living room with me and take down one of my books from the top shelf of the cabinet above the television. There is no point trying to turn it on for background noise, the parental lock is on constantly and he's blocked every channel other than the weather and the news. Neither of those interests me, so I don't bother. I am allowed to have the radio on though, so when Lottie is asleep I try to listen to it on low so I don't disturb her.

With her in my lap I begin to read. I know she can't understand it but it soothes both her and me when I read to her. It's the only luxury I'm allowed. I brought all my books with me when I moved here after we were married, and he let me keep them all, but I'm only allowed six at a time. I can change them whenever I ask and I am allowed to choose what I read, but I'm only allowed six books on the cabinet at a time. That goes for personal possessions too. Six at a time. I have to swap them, one for another, if I want something different around me.

At first I resented it, not being able to have photographs on display or things that were purely mine before we got married. But now I don't care. All that matters is Elizabeth. She doesn't need 'things' around her. She needs her mother and she needs to be clean and warm and loved. She needs me to teach her, to read to her, to be there for her and I am. That's all that matters. He can do whatever he wants to me as long as he allows me to keep her.

The telephone begins to ring and it startles Elizabeth. She doesn't cry but her eyes get really wide. "That's the telephone little one. Lets listen and see who is calling us hey?" I ask her as though she understands.

The ringing stops and I hear his voice. 'You've reached Jake Black. I'm not here, leave a message.' There's no mention of me or Elizabeth but it's not as though anyone would ever call here for us anyway. We don't know anyone and nobody remembers us. I hear the beep and wait for whoever it is that's calling to leave their message. "Um, this is a message for Bella." Says a strangely familiar voice. "Ah, Bella, if you get this message please call the Olympia Family Medical Centre. Um, my mother Esme, I don't know if you remember her, but she's going to call you at some point to catch up, so listen out for her message too. Please call back Bella. Ah, this is Doctor Cullen calling by the way."

He leaves the number where I should call and then hangs up. I don't realize I am shaking until Lottie begins to wriggle and I look down at her. My hands are trembling and I am starting to see little silver stars at the edges of my vision. I know I have to get Elizabeth into her crib before the panic attack hits me full force. I don't even manage to tuck her in when the stars get brighter and I can feel myself begin to hyperventilate. I get myself back into the living room and try to make sure that when I feint I fall onto the sofa and not forward and crash onto the coffee table.

EPOV

I get the fucking answering machine again only this time I leave an actual message. I'm sick of that fucking message. I'm sick of hearing his voice and I'm sick of not hearing her or the baby's name in the greeting. It's like he doesn't want anyone to know they live there. Maybe he doesn't.

I've called before but nobody returns my calls. It's the same voice message, the same droning voice with no life in it. And only his voice. No mention of his wife and daughter. It eats me up. Not just because he's married to her but because he doesn't seem to give a shit that they exist.

I sit back in my chair and take a deep breath. She told me before not to call her but I have to. It's been three weeks since she's brought the baby in to be checked over. I know because I read the baby's file. I shouldn't have, but I did. The baby isn't my patient, Bella is, but I wanted to know if the baby was in as bad shape as her mother. But it's been weeks since anyone at the clinic has seen her or the baby.

I put a call in to the immunisation registry for Washington State and enquire if Elizabeth Black has had her two month injections, she hasn't. She's only a week overdue but still, its worrying. For me anyway. Nobody believes me, not even my own father and he's a doctor too. He says I'm seeing what I want to see. He says that because I've had a crush on Bella my whole life I'm looking for reasons to 'save' her when she doesn't need saving.

I know what I saw. Black eyes don't magic their way onto women's faces and dad would know that for himself if he got his head out of his buttcrack and took a look in the ER instead of hiding away on the cardiac ward. He's a good doctor, probably one of the best, but he doesn't 'get' people. They are patients to him. What happens to them when they leave his ward isn't really his thing. He's good to them while they're there, very good to them, but once they are discharged and go back to their lives he spares them no more thought. That's why we clash, because although we're both doctors I'm all about the patients as people. He says it makes it hard for me to be objective when I 'know' my patients as well as I do. He thinks that I can't make the hard decisions for them because I'm too soft. I think he's full of shit.

But that's why he is refusing to help me with Bella's case. I could just turn her notes over to a social worker and they'd get her some help, but I know she'd decline and then she'd never speak to me again. It's hard enough to get her to come to the clinic now, if I forced help onto her she'd resent me forever and I'd never see her again.

So I'm stuck in this hard place for now. I wasn't lying on the message when I said that my mom was going to call her. She is. Maybe she already has. I scrape together Bella's notes and shove them back into the file. I lock it in my bottom draw and put my glasses back on my nose.

"Gail could you grab me another coffee, thanks." I throw some change down onto her desk and reach for another file. "Mrs Gillies, come on through." I call into the waiting room.

An ancient lady with a walking frame pops up from the sea of bowed heads and starts to make her way towards me. She's not slow, despite the walker. "Hello Dr Cullen." She smiles as she passes by me.

"Hey there Mrs Gillies, you're a whizz with that frame, maybe we should get a race going. Do you know Mr Hobson? He's got a frame too, but I think you'd kick his ass." I laugh as I take my chair opposite her.

She plonks herself down into the chair. She swats at my arm. "Oh you. Always teasing an old lady." She giggles.

"Who's teasing? I really do think you could kick his ass. We could make a packet!" I chuckle and open her file. "So, how's the hip?" I ask and we begin her consultation.

Fifteen minutes later I see Mrs Gillies back into reception and collect my lukewarm vending machine coffee from Gail. She'd make me a fresh one, a proper brewed one, if she had time. But nobody has any time here. It's a free clinic, you don't need insurance or anything to come here, so there is always a waiting room full of people and the staff are over worked and underpaid. I love it. So do the others.

I guess you have to love it or you wouldn't do it.

"Your mother called while you were consulting." Gail tells me as I pass by with Mr Herbert. Gail hands me a post it note with a number scribbled on it. Its moms cell phone number. "She says you need to call her as soon as you get a minute."

"Okay, thanks." I hold up the coffee cup and nod my thanks for that too but she's already sorting out another appointment time for Mrs Gillies and doesn't see the gesture. "Come on through Mr Herbert." I wait for him to sit and then I ask how his cough is progressing. He's got asbestos poisoning and is in the end stages, he won't see Christmas and he knows it. He's got no cover for his illness because the employer he worked for when he was exposed to the asbestos went bust. A few years later when all the former employees got sick they went searching for the health insurance they'd paid in to back then, only to find it was never paid. Their employer skipped with the cash and they were left holding the bill for their own medical costs. That's how he ended up here, a last resort while he fought to live.

It's another twenty minutes before I get half a second to call my mother's cell. I get her voice mail and leave her a message. It's like tag team telephones sometimes. "Mom, you called so I'm calling you. Call me." I laugh into the receiver and then go to get my next patient.

I am just ushering Mrs Clements out of my office fifteen minutes later when my cell rings. I hurry back to my desk and pick it up just in time. "Hey mom." I answer. I jog back to the front desk with my phone wedged under my ear. I reach for another file while I wait to hear what she's got to say.

She's out of breath and I instantly stiffen. Something's wrong, mom is never flustered. "Edward you have to come now. We're in emergency at Forks General. Your dad is in with her, she's such a mess Edward." She's crying now and I try to get a handle on what she's telling me.

"Who's a mess mom? Who's in the hospital?" I bark into the phone as I stash my files in the basket behind the counter and reach for a pen from Gail's desk. She's looking at me with wide eyes, already rescheduling the rest of my patients.

"Bella, its Bella. He's beaten her half to death Edward." She's crying now and I'm running.

"I'm coming mom, just hold on, I'm coming." I throw my badge and clinic ID onto Gail's desk. "I've gotta go." I tell her but she's already waving at me to go already.

I double park my car and dare a parking inspector to give me a ticket. I couldn't care less. Tow the fucking thing, see if I care.

I sprint in through the emergency room doors and front up to the desk. "Hi Edward." Says the triage nurse. I don't even recognise her I'm so freaked out.

"Hey. My mother is here with Bella Black." I tell her and she starts typing the name into her computer.

"The girls been assigned to ward four. I think your mom is in the waiting room there already." She tells me but I'm already running.

Ward four is for pre surgery patients. I run like there's a fire right behind me. I find mom and Alice, my sister, in the waiting room, they both have tissues shoved under their running noses and red rimmed eyes. Mom jumps to her feet and grabs me and folds me into a tight hug.

"How is she?" I ask over her shoulder of Alice.

"We don't know yet. They brought her up here but they won't tell us what's happening because we aren't family." Alice sniffles.

"Did you come in the ambulance with her?" I ask my mom.

She's shaking her head no. "They wouldn't let me." She sniffs too.

"Okay, can you tell me what you found when you got there?" I ask. I might be able to work out what surgery she needs if mom describes her injuries to me.

I walk with my mom until she sits back down in the waiting room chair. They are uncomfortable fucking things at the best of times and she winces until she finds a good spot. "Oh Edward its awful there, where she's living. Its clean but it's awful." She wipes at her eyes and I get frustrated with her.

"I don't give a shit about the house mom, I want to know what you saw of Bella's injuries." I demand.

She sniffles a bit and Alice gasps at my roughness but I ignore it.

"Um, well, she's black and blue and one of her eyes is swollen shut. She screamed when the paramedic lifted her up off the floor and put her on the stretcher so she's probably got a lot going on under her shirt I suppose. She smelled awful and looked so thin. Oh Edward her cheeks are so hollow and her hair is all limp and filthy." She sobs and buries her nose in my neck again.

I get quite a lot from the small bits and pieces mom remembers. She's been hit if her eye is swollen shut. She was on the floor so she was either unconscious and has a head injury or she's lost some blood and feinted. She screamed when they moved her so that's either ribs or arms and legs broken or internal injuries, maybe all three. The smell worries me too. I don't want to ask if she was unclean because I don't want to know why. I knew she wasn't eating right because the last time I saw her she was already far too thin.

I fold my arms around her and look over her shoulder at Alice who is crying quietly into a clean tissue. I hold Esme but speak with my sister. "How long has it been since you actually laid eyes on her?" I ask her.

She thinks about it a second. "I haven't actually seen her since she got married. Since then I've only talked to her on the phone. She kept putting me off from going over there, I guess I know why now." She starts crying again and it sets mom off too.

So Alice hasn't seen her in months, possibly over a year and my mom only saw her today for the first time in ages. I still didn't know why she went there instead of phoning. I'd ask her about that later.

I rub her back and try to work out what the next move should be. Unless dad is going to be in on the surgery there is no way we're going to be able to find out how she is or what's wrong with her. I'm well known at the hospital, so are mom and Alice, so there's no chance of tricking some unsuspecting nurse into divulging information to us. I could get Emmett to ring through and pose as her brother or something but I'd save that for a last resort. I don't know what's in her file; it wouldn't help if we get caught in a lie like that because no siblings are marked in her file.

My dad comes out into the waiting room then. He sees me there and motions for me to join him at the nurses station. I let my mom go and go towards him. He looks softer, more concerned than normal, as though he understands and believes me now.

"How is she?" I ask.

"They're still assessing her. Edward she's in quite a state, I have to warn you she may be here for quite some time." He put his hand on my shoulder and I slumped.

He'd never touched me that way before. Offering his support. I felt bad that it registered so much with me. I knew he cared about me and my brother and sister, my mom too, but he'd never truly shown it, not in any physical way anyway. He wasn't a touchy feely kind of guy, not even as a doctor.

"What do you know so far?" I asked. I was afraid to hear it now.

"Well she's definitely got broken knuckles and a couple of toes for sure. The head wound is superficial, a lot of blood but no skull fracture. Her cheek and eye socket are in a bad way, they think the x-ray shows a depression fracture that might cause some nerve damage in her cheek and upper lip but they can't say for sure until the swelling goes down a little."

I felt my knees give out and he went with me to the floor. "Oh god." I mumble as my head sinks into my hands.

"Do you want to know the rest son?" He asks quietly.

I really had to think about the answer before I told him that I did want to know. "I can't help her if I don't know what's going on for her."

We stayed on the floor this time though, not so far to fall should I wimp out and crash again.

"She's malnourished and desperately underweight which wouldn't help her immune system any. There are two large wounds inside her mouth as well as the corner of her lips where she's torn right through. She's got loose teeth in her mouth and she might lose the back two or three on the right. She'll have an orthodontic consult once her mouth has healed. From what I know of her other injuries they are in fairly private places Edward." He said carefully and quietly.

I sat up then. "What do you mean?" I asked although I could guess. I was horrified. Surely he wouldn't have hurt her there? As well as everything else why would he do that?

"Try to think about it clinically son, try to see it as a patient, not your friend." He told me carefully. He knew I couldn't do that, but went on anyway. "Her left nipple has been bitten almost clean through the flesh, from side to side. She'll need to have that stitched too. I'll insist on a plastics consult though, I won't let a general surgeon do it, alright?" He told me and I was grateful that he'd bother. After all, to him she was just a high school acquaintance, more a friend of Alice' than a friend of mine. I'd never given him any reason to think otherwise and I wouldn't now either. "There are other injuries but the nipple seems the most vicious so far." He mumbled as though he wanted to hide that part from me. All I could do was stare at him. What sort of an animal bites through a woman's nipple? How could she feed a baby like that?

I didn't want to know anything else. If it was worse, if there was more, I couldn't hear it now.

I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I could hear the rumbling in my ears as I heaved the first lot up onto the carpet. I heard my mother gasp as she ran towards me and took me into her arms. I heard my father ask the nurse to get a cleaner to come and see to it. I heard Alice call Jasper and ask him to get Emmett and come. I heard my father tell me that he had to go back in now, that he'd stay with her, he'd scrub in and offer any help he could while they tried to repair her face and broken bones. I heard him promise to take good care of her.

With vomit dripping from my bottom lip and snot and tears running down my face I turned to my father and begged him to believe me now.

"I do, Edward, I do. We'll take care of her now, I swear." He gave me one more squeeze on the shoulder and then he disappeared down the hallway again.

"Come on darling." My mother helped me to my feet and sat me on one of the horrible waiting room chairs. She stroked my hair and dabbed at my eyes. Alice patted my hand and kept up a steady stream of texting, no doubt letting Rosie know what was going on here. My sister in law was anything but sympathetic but she was a good woman, she'd feel for Bella if not for Elizabeth.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" I screamed. My mother leapt from her seat in shock at my outburst. "Where the fuck is the baby?" I bellowed at her, shaking her hard.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Please take the time to review.