Chapter Music: In the End by Linkin Park
A/N: Thank you to miztrezboo for her amazing words and to annanabanana for keeping mine right. Thanks also to the people who read each week.
LINK TO CHAPTER UNDER THE COMMENTS BAR
:: Bella ::
Steam billowed out into the hallway as I opened the bathroom door. Showered and fresh and wrapped in a towel, I made my way back to my room. With Charlie fishing out on the lake with Edward, I thought about how I should spend my day off from the diner. I smoothed moisturizer over my skin and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of vanilla flood through my senses. I dressed leisurely, pulling on a simple yellow daisy print bra and matching panties before settling on a casual t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
My mind wandered, filling with memories of the time I had spent with Edward. The way his thigh had felt against mine in the ferris wheel car, and the sound of his voice as he had beckoned me closer. The way his eyes had traveled the length of my body on the boat, and the way he had spilled his heart to me about his grandfather. The way his hand had held mine, and the tender way he had brushed my hair off my face at Aro's. Something was changing, a deeper connection was developing, and I wondered if Edward felt it too.
As I began to untangle my hair, the brush slipped from my hand. I watched as it bounced and skittered across the floor before finally coming to rest under my bed.
"Pay attention, Bella," I scolded myself quietly.
Kneeling by the side of the bed, I reached underneath, groping around for the brush, but instead my hand closed around my old memory box. With a sigh, I dragged the box out and shifted on the floor, tucking my legs under my body.
It smelled musty and a thick layer of dust covered the lid. It had been six years since the deep round box had been opened. I lifted the lid with a sense of trepidation, trying to remember what I had left stored in there for so many years.
Edward's voice echoed through my head. Taking baby steps is how you'll get through it.
With a deep breath, I tipped the box up in front of me, spilling the contents over the floor. I smiled as I picked up one childhood memory after the other. My first stuffed rabbit, an album of family photographs showing mom's last spring with us, candid shots of me and Charlie fishing on the lake, my ballet ribbon and mom's homemade awards. I placed one item after the other back into the box, not wanting to forget how happy I'd once been.
I refolded my mom's favorite scarf, holding it to my nose and desperately inhaling, hoping her scent still lingered there. It didn't. Snapshots of me and Alice playing dress-up caught my attention, as well as a few from the diner—all of us squashed together in a booth and grinning at the camera. Emmett had always tried to include Alice at school and, by extension, me, almost making it his job to watch out for us. An image of the three of us pulled at my heart—Emmett was standing in the middle with an arm around each of us. "My two little sisters," he had said as Rose snapped the picture.
After tucking the memories back in the box, only two items remained. Class of 2004 was emblazoned in large gold letters across the front of my yearbook, which sat next to a final album: Bella Swan, Graduating Class of 2004. I placed the yearbook back in the box and lifted the album. An envelope slipped out from between the photographs, landing in my lap. I took a moment to look over the official portrait shots, in addition to glossy prints of me and Charlie, as the proud father.
Storing the album with the rest, I opened the envelope and immediately felt faint. My morning spent sifting through a lifetime of memories was about to be ruined, but I couldn't stop myself. One photo after the other slipped out of the envelope. Jacob and me at graduation, Jacob with his arms wrapped around me, Jacob kissing my cheek, me laughing at Jacob's side.
Jacob. Jacob. Jacob.
His grinning face taunting me as he beckoned a teenage version of myself into a life he clearly didn't want. I tore every picture in half, but it still didn't make me feel any better. I wanted to slap his smug face.
I forcefully shoved my memory box back under the bed and began picking up the mess in front of me. Within minutes I was rifling through the drawers in the kitchen, looking for what I needed.
"Come on!" I yelled, just as my hand closed around the little book of matches I was searching for. With deliberate steps, I made my way to the back yard, stopping in front of the fire pit and tossing in the memories I couldn't bear to think about. One match was all it took, and I watched with renewed enthusiasm as the photographs blistered and charred, eradicating the happy faces.
The sound of the phone ringing in the house forced me to put the lid back on the pit and extinguish the flames. I tucked the match book in my pocket and ran back into the house.
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon, may I speak with Mrs. Black, please?" The deep voice of Mr. Newton carried down the phone line to me, and I cringed at the reminder that I may still be Jacob's wife.
"Speaking," I said through a grimace.
"Ah, yes, hello, Mrs. Black. I'm calling to inform you that we received the paperwork back from your husband this morning—well, your now ex-husband. Everything seems to be in order, there was no contest to any of your requests; it all went quite smoothly, considering." When I had told Mr. Newton I just planned to leave, he had advised me to be prepared for Jacob to drag things out, to fight for me to come home or at the very least to try and talk me into some form of counseling or reconciliation. He hadn't. I'd not heard from him at all since my arrival in Masen. Jacob had to know where I was, I had nowhere else to go.
"I didn't expect there to be any issues, Mr. Newton, but thank you. And please, call me Bella." I didn't feel comfortable with the formality, especially as I was no longer married.
"My associate Mr. Crowley has organized the documents to change your name back to Swan. They will be finalized later on today." I could hear the inflection of a smile in his voice. Even though I'd had very little interaction with Mr. Newton's firm, he knew that the change back was important to me. "You'll also receive your settlement check within the week," he said, a little pleased with himself. I shuddered at the thought. I didn't want to think about keeping anything associated with Jacob. It was more important for me to move on. But I remembered the hunger in Mr. Newton's voice when we had initially spoken about serving Jacob the papers.
"What exactly do you want from this divorce, Mrs. Black?" Mr. Newton said, twirling his pen between his fingers.
"I don't want anything. I just want things to be over as quickly as possible. It's what he wants, and I've never denied him anything." I willed myself not to cry as Mr. Newton stared back at me, his mouth agape in shock.
"I'm sorry, forgive me, but more often than not, wives try to take their husbands for everything they have."
"I'm not certain what clientele you usually work for, Mr. Newton, but I assure you that money is not my motivation here," I said defensively. His back stiffened and he placed his hands on the desk in front of him, peering at me over the top of his glasses.
"Please don't misunderstand me, Mrs. Black. I will advocate, within the law and to the best of my abilities, at your request. But if I may, I'd like to point out to you that you have supported Mr. Black through two years of marriage, emotionally and socially. It could be argued that you have been a fundamental asset in establishing your husband's company. Without that continued support, we have no way of knowing what affect that could have had on his success. While you bring no income of your own to the situation, in this case, your time has been money."
"I understand your position, Mr. Newton. This may sound callous, but I don't care about the money. I don't have the energy to fight for it." I picked at the tissue I was clutching in my hands before meeting his eyes again. Mr. Newton sat straight in his chair, his blond hair slicked back off his face and his hard blue eyes fixed back on mine.
"With all due respect, that's what you're paying me for, Mrs. Black. Let me do my job." His tone was firm and left no room for negotiation.
"Whatever you feel you need to do, Mr. Newton," I sighed, resigned to the fact that I would just have to leave things in his hands. "I don't want to be involved with the process at all; I just want to know when it's over."
"As you wish." He smiled at me from behind his large desk, a devious smirk that sent a chill down my spine. I was suddenly thankful that Mr. Newton was my attorney and not Jacob's.
"So, as of tomorrow, I'll be Bella Swan again, officially?" I asked hopefully.
"That's right. Mr. Black really did hurry the papers back without contesting anything. He also enclosed a letter. Should I forward it on to you at the address in Masen?" he inquired.
"Actually, could you just open it and read it now, please? I'd much rather have everything closed and final today; you know, start tomorrow afresh."
"Of course, I'll just get it." He cleared his throat and I heard the ruffle of papers in the background. "Are you ready, Bella?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Very well." Mr. Newton cleared his throat again and started reading Jacob's letter.
" 'Dear Bella, I've tried to give you what you asked for, I'm sorry you felt that you couldn't talk to me about this. I hope you can be happy, it's all I ever wanted for you. If you ever want to talk, you know how to reach me. I hope that things are going well for you in Masen with Charlie. Yours, Jacob.'
"That's all there is, Bella," Mr. Newton advised.
I remained silent for a moment, mulling over what Jacob had said. I've tried to give you what you asked for, I'm sorry you felt that you couldn't talk to me about this. He was sorry that I couldn't talk to him! It was Jacob who couldn't talk to me, without the cover of darkness and the perception of me sleeping. It was Jacob who had set the wheels in motion and now he was acting like it was something he never wanted. True, I hadn't asked him to confirm what I had heard, but his growing distance as the weeks went on seemed indication enough of what he wanted.
"Bella?"
"Thank you, Mr. Newton. Do you need me for anything else?" My throat felt tight with the anger that was beginning to course through my body.
"No, that concludes our business, Bella. Please don't hesitate to contact either myself or my associate should you have any other questions, and of course, should you need our services any further, our office in Dallas would be more than happy to help."
After a quick goodbye, the call disconnected and I was left standing dumbstruck in the kitchen. Tears I hadn't been expecting ran down my cheeks and I wiped at them roughly. I had given Jacob seven years of my life, and now that it was over, I expected to feel unattached to what we had built together. But instead of feeling free, I couldn't help the overwhelming sense of loss. It wasn't as simple as sectioning off that part of myself and closing the door to the past. The edges were still raw and my heart was still hurting. The unknown portion of my marriage would never be closed. Shadows remained and secrets were still hidden.
The only way to truly move past Jacob would be to unearth the why behind his original request to end our marriage. My shoulders slumped forward, and I suddenly felt like any real progress I had made over the last few weeks had been for naught. I tried to breathe but my lungs wouldn't take in the air they needed, it felt like I was suffocating.
I needed to speak to him. I needed that closure. I tried to steady my breathing and quell my tears and sniffles. I filled a glass with water and drank it slowly, thinking about what I might say. Finally, with shaky hands, I reached for the phone and dialed the familiar number. The phone rang three times before the line connected, and my blood ran cold as I heard a stranger's saccharine voice down the line.
"Jakey, don't be long, I'm almost done with dinner."
"Sure thing, babe."
My throat began to close as my breathing tried to quicken. Clutching onto the counter in front of me, I fought to take a deep and calming breath.
"Hello?"
My face felt like it was on fire, and my vision began to blur with angry, unshed tears.
"Fuck you, Jacob Black. How could you?" I didn't wait for his reply before slamming the receiver back on the cradle.
I ran from the house, more tears streaking down my cheeks as the phone shrilled behind me. Several strangled sobs burst from my chest, and I tried in vain to inhale the gentle warm breeze blowing my hair around my face. I was being torn in two. It felt like I was dying, he had taken everything from me, and had left me with nothing.
As I passed Charlie's truck, through watery eyes, I caught a flash of red—his emergency gas tank. Without a second thought, I ran back into the house and searched for my keys. With them firmly gripped in my hand, I headed back to the truck and grabbed the canister from the flat bed, not hesitating for a moment and lifting the crowbar lying there too. I made my way to the Audi, choking back my tears, trying desperately not to shed another one for the man who had destroyed my confidence.
I stood and looked at the shiny brown paintwork—deep chocolate shades with a dusting of shimmered gold—seeing my warped reflection on the side of the car. My face was blotchy and strands of hair were stuck to my wet cheeks. I hated how weak and desolate I looked. I raised my hand, the keys biting sharply into the flesh of my palm, and looped my finger under the ignition key. Pressing the tiny piece of metal against the door panel, I flicked my wrist, leaving an angry scratch in the metallic paint.
It felt good to inflict damage on something tangible, and in Jacob's absence, I would settle for the Audi. My hand moved of its own accord, stripping the paint right down to the undercoat in some places. It took less than ten minutes to distort my image beyond recognition, reflected now only in small fractions and narrow slithers. But my fingers ached and my wrist protested as my mind convinced me that the damage wasn't enough.
Opening the door and storing the canister on the passenger seat, I got in and laid the crowbar across my lap. Turning the ignition, I yanked the car into reverse, my movements surprisingly smooth and calculated. I drove down the dirt road back toward the highway, stopping halfway and parking at the side of the road. Clutching the crowbar in my hand, I stepped out of the car, determined and graceful. It was as if my body had taken over and focused all of the emotions running through me.
Jacob Black could shove his anniversary gift up his cheating, whoring ass. I didn't want anything of his. A rush of anger and adrenaline flooded my system and I violently stabbed the bar through the driver's seat. Repeatedly, I gouged at the rich creamy leather, scoring the smooth finish and shredding the material, synchronizing my breaths with each rip and tear that echoed through the air. When the seat was decimated, I stood back and stared at the damage. My senses were still on high alert, not satisfied with the destruction I had already caused.
I slammed the door closed, catching my reflection in the glass. My face was flushed and my eyes looked wild; the woman staring back at me was almost unrecognizable. Before I could stop myself, I swung the bar still clutched in my hands and shattered the window. It felt good. Less than an hour ago I thought I had done something to push Jacob away, causing him to become distant. But no, it wasn't me. All along Jacob had been redirecting his attentions elsewhere. Where I had been left feeling neglected, he had been anything but.
I moved fluidly around the car, breaking each of the windows, one after the other. Glass shards flew through the air and I turned my head, feeling them pull on my hair as they landed among the dampened strands. I lifted the crowbar high above my head and brought it down hard on the windshield, the point of impact whitening with the stress of the crushed glass. I watched as fractures spread over the glass, the tiny hairline cracks symbolic of the twisted web of lies Jacob had hidden under.
It took three more swings at the glass before it broke, falling back inside the car and covering the dash with broken chunks. I continued to bring the crowbar down, pounding on the hood and watching the metal dimple and buckle under the strain. My shoulders ached, my back felt tight, and the impact of each blow had sent continuous shudders along my arms. I dropped the bar on the ground at my feet, and the clunk sound it made brought me out of my haze.
The twisted and mangled remains of the car looked pitiful. It was exactly how I felt. Falling to my knees, I cradled my head in my hands, heaving and sobbing.
"No!" I yelled abruptly, smacking my hands against the rough surface of the road. I was not going to let Jacob do this to me. Lifting myself up off the ground, I stalked around to the other side of the car.
I reached in through the passenger window and retrieved the canister from the seat, still not able to stem the flow of tears. I uncapped the odorous and scratched container, and poured some of the gasoline over the interior of the car. When I was sure the seats were saturated, I stepped back, and began to swing the can back and forth, shaking more of the fuel over the paint work, the road and the tires. My eyes and lungs began to sting and burn with the fumes as my body shook and heaved with each new sob. I staggered backward, losing my footing twice before dropping Charlie's canister away from my feet.
With shaky fingers I retrieved the book of matches from my back pocket and wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. I briefly turned my face to the sky and fisted my hand in my hair, a feral scream ripping from my throat. Glass pinched at my palm as my hand fell away from my head, and I winced at the tiny trickles of blood seeping from my skin. More tears slid down my temples as my breath hitched and loud broken cries sounded heavily in the surrounding silence.
Pulling my attention back to the car, I tore a match from the book and lit it, staring at the flicker and glow of the small flame before throwing it at the car. A satisfying roar coursed through the air and I quickly stepped back, watching with rapture as yellow and orange flames licked at the torn seats and the dash. I stood for a moment, mesmerized as the fire moved in a lustrous dance across the paintwork and through the windows. The blaze began to burn higher and higher, a raging inferno crackling in front of me, the embodiment of everything I had felt in the last two hours right back to the last two years.
Thick black smoke billowed and twisted up into the humid blue sky, and I grew frustrated at the way the destruction spread slowly, under and through the shell. I began to tear off and strike one match after the next, throwing them toward the wreck until the book was empty. I heard my name being called over the rush of the fire and the hiss and crack of the ruined leather.
Just as my knees started to give out from under me, two strong arms circled around my shoulders and waist as Edward held me to his chest, his breath cool as it fanned over my flushed face. I felt limp in his arms, the last of the adrenaline finally expelled from my body.
"Shhh, Bella, it's okay. I just need to move you, we need to stand back." His voice was soft, almost a whisper in my ear. I couldn't stop crying and I wiped my bloodied hand across my cheeks. "Hold on, don't…not with that hand. Christ, baby, what've you done to yourself?"
I couldn't speak, my throat was thick with tears still left unshed and I whimpered into Edward's chest as he turned me, cradling me against him. Charlie's voice permeated the air and I heard him tell Edward to take me back to the house.
My legs felt heavy and the space around me felt thick. I couldn't move; I was too tired. Emotionally and physically the day had been too much. I was spent.
"It was never me," I whispered. "There was someone else."
"What do you mean, Bella?" Edward's breath felt warm on my temple. Warmth was good, I needed warmth.
"I was never enough." I felt the last of my tears dry on my face, the skin feeling stretched and tight. Edward braced one arm around my back and gently hooked his free arm behind my knees, taking steady strides back home. My eyes flickered closed, the sunlight too harsh for me to keep them open. Edward began murmuring above me and the smooth lilt of his voice, coupled with the gentle vibrations through his chest as he spoke, calmed my body and I felt sleep fighting to take me. My breathing was under control, for what felt like the first time all day, and I was only able to pick out some of what Edward was saying.
"Who else, Bella?" His arms tightened around me. It could have been to provide comfort or out of desperation, but I didn't care. I felt safe and that was all that mattered. I hummed softly, trying to understand his question.
"It doesn't matter, baby. You can tell me later."
When I could no longer feel the breeze on my face, I knew I was home. Edward carried me to the bathroom and set me down on the vanity counter. He filled the basin with water and gently cleaned my hand, careful to remove any remaining glass. He tenderly brushed out my hair and I heard the glass shards bounce off the counter. Edward wiped my face with a warm cloth, and as I sat feeling helpless and hopeless, I stared into his eyes. They looked sad and tortured, but I couldn't fathom why.
I reached up and touched his cheek with my fingertips, while he wrapped gauze around my injured hand. "So sad," I said with a soft sigh.
Edward's eyes met mine and he tried to offer me a weak smile. "My friend is hurtin'. So yeah, I'm sad."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, dropping my gaze.
"Don't be sorry, Bella, it's not your fault. Is it?" he asked lightly.
"He didn't want me."
"He's a fool."
"I wasn't enough." My voice cracked and my vision blurred once again. Edward lifted my head and wiped my eyes with the damp cloth.
"You are enough, Bella." With that, Edward lifted me from the counter and carried me to my room. Once released from his arms, I stood staring out the window and saw the black smoke in the distance. The sound of fire trucks disturbed the easy silence and I took another shaky breath. I was done for today, I couldn't take anymore.
"You need to change, Bella. Your clothes…you can't lie down in these." He fingered my t-shirt briefly before moving to my dresser, retrieving shorts and a vest for me to change into. "Do you need any help?"
I tried to unbutton my jeans, but my hands felt numb. I nodded slowly, knowing there was no one else to help me. Edward stepped forward and kneeled down in front of me. He lifted my hands to rest on his shoulders and slowly unlaced my shoes, slipping them off one after the other. I looked down at him and saw his eyes were fixed on my stomach as he deftly unbuttoned my jeans. His eyes never wandered, remaining fixated on the sliver of skin I knew would be visible just below my t-shirt.
Once my legs were free and bare, Edward lifted each one carefully so that I could step into my shorts, dropping his eyes to the floor only once. I brushed my fingers over the top of his hair and was surprised by how soft it felt tickling my skin. He hesitated for a moment before pulling the cotton up past my thighs and to my hips.
"You okay?" Edward asked as he stood up. I looked up into his face and shook my head infinitesimally. "Do you need me to stop?" he asked, squeezing my shoulder lightly. He was trying to comfort me in a way that only Edward seemed to be able to. He didn't have to be here, he chose to be. But unlike so many other times, his presence didn't have its usual calming effect. Even as I tried to focus on his reverent touches and the steady intake of his breath, I could feel my senses numbing and my chest aching.
"Please don't."
He moved behind me, affording me some privacy, before placing his hands on my waist and lifting the hem of my t-shirt. "Lift your arms for me, Bella," he whispered.
I did as he asked, and he pulled the fabric over my head. The act was intimate but lacked desire and want. This was about Edward giving me something I needed and no one else could provide. I felt small and weak, lost and unsure. The fissure in my chest was crumbling again, gaping wide and exposing my bleeding heart. My epiphany at the lake, the steps I had made forward, the way I had tried to rebuild and mend friendships—it was all forged on the assumption that I was at fault, that the demise of my marriage sat on my shoulders, that I had pushed Jacob away. There was strength in that; in being the wrongdoer, not the wronged. But it was all based on a lie.
I tilted my head to the ceiling, blinking rapidly and trying to dispel the tears sitting in my eyes.
"It's okay, Bella. Just let go." Edward's soft voice reminded me that I had promised myself I would only cry in the privacy of my room. I only had to wait a short while longer until Edward left and then I would be able to breakdown. "If you need to fall, I'll catch you." Warm breath ghosted across the top of my head just before Edward pulled my vest over my shoulders, smoothing it down my body respectfully.
I held my breath as he guided me over to the bed, scared the expansion of my lungs or the exhale of an unsteady breath would send the moisture down my cheeks. Edward lifted the duvet and I stumbled under the sheets.
"I can stay, if you'd like," he offered, and my bottom lip began to quiver. He needed to leave; I couldn't do this with him watching me. I rolled onto my side, keeping my back to him.
"No, thank you," I rasped, my throat hoarse from the emotions that had swept through me today. Silent tears ran down my temple, falling onto the pillowcase under my head, while I listened to Edward's retreating footsteps. He hesitated at the door and my breath hitched.
"I'll be downstairs if you need…" Edward's voice trailed off, and I heard him sigh before closing the door.
My chest was tight and my lungs burned, desperate for air, and as I gulped in deep breaths, I let go. My body trembled and shook, and loud sobs resounded throughout the room. I buried my face against the cool cotton, hoping that if I couldn't hear myself break all over again, that I wouldn't feel it either. But it was no use. I fell hard and chose to do it alone.
A/N: *runs to hide* RL has knocked me for six this last week, guys, so the next chapter for RoH will be posted on 20th Nov. It's the one you've been asking for so I hope you think it's worth the extra wait. That said I will be posting another outtake on 13th Nov, so if A Slice of Hope isn't already on your alerts then pop it on just now.
I'll post a teaser on Fictionators this week, and as always, thank you for reading.
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