24. A Divine Purpose

EPOV

“Stop, it…”


”Huh-uh, you stop it.”


“Now, baby. Come on…stop.”


“You stop it,” she insisted.


“No, you stop it,” I countered.


She giggled. “You!” she exclaimed, then continued to jump towards the opposite direction of me, on the trampoline.


“Isabella, it’s time to come inside,” I reminded her gently.


“You go inside,” she countered breathlessly and bounced again.


“Isabella-”


“Edward,” she interrupted before I could continue.


“What?” I asked.


“What?” she mocked.


Oh, come the fuck on.


Isabella was being…difficult.


The morning had gone smoothly so far. She had woken up at just after 8:00, and had a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Fruity Pebbles, to be exact. Then she wanted to dress and feed her baby doll while she caught up on some morning cartoons on this weird tv channel called ‘Nickelodean‘...and then she wanted to color. After that, she wanted to get dressed and play outside. I said that it was OK for a little bit, but that she had therapy in about half an hour. She smiled and nodded, then ran right out the back doors, headed straight for this death trap.


It was now 9:58...two minutes until she needed to park her little butt on the couch in Carlisle’s study for her first therapy session.


“Isabella, it’s time to come back inside,” I repeated.


“Why?” she asked before she gave a little flip and landed flat on her back, only to get back up and start jumping again.


“You know why, angel…” I said softly.


I was trying to be gentle with my prodding for as long as possible. I knew that this would be hard for her, but her mocking me and not listening was making my ‘gentle’ approach harder and harder by the minute.


“No, Edward…s’time to play, not go inside,” she insisted with a smile and a little giggle, before she started hopping around the edges of the trampoline, furthest away from me.


And it was making me fucking nervous.


I knew what she was doing, besides the obvious…avoidance. She was turning on her charm with her adorable smiles and giggles in hopes of getting her way.


Sorry, kiddo.


I gave her my ‘stern face’, which wasn’t that hard, given where she was jumping at the moment, and said, “Isabella, now. And if you don’t stop jumping on the edge of this thing, you won’t be playing on it for the rest of the week. Get. Off.”


She stopped jumping immediately and sat down. Once all the bouncing vibrations came to an end, she looked at me with a truly pitiful expression.


“Edward, nooo…” she whined in her small child-like voice.


I softened my gaze now that she had stopped jumping. “Yes, baby. Come here,” I said, reaching out my arms for her.


I could have easily walked over to where she was and gotten her, or snatched her off this thing mid-jump five minutes ago, but I wanted her to come to me. On her own.


After a minute of thinking, she finally made her way over to me. She crawled…very deliberately at a very slow pace, but I didn’t rush her. I was just glad she was coming to me on her own when she knew what would happen next.


Therapy.


When she was within my reach, I pulled her off of the trampoline and set her back down on the ground with a kiss to her forehead. I was going to take her hand in mine so that we could go back inside, but she turned right back around in a rush, and started to climb back on the damn thing.


“Isabella, no,” I scolded her, then wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her to me and away from the trampoline.


Once we were a few feet away, I wrapped my hand around her small one in a firm grip, and we started our walk back to the house.


“No, Edwaaard,” she whined, and started to dig her feet into the ground, to prevent us from walking any further.


When she realized that wasn’t working, she let her body go limp in a very toddler-like fashion. I shook my head, tired of her antics, and just picked her up from where she was seated on the ground. When I had her in my arms, she put her hands on my shoulders to boost herself up a bit, then reached an arm out in the direction we had just come from.


“My jump-a-lene,” she pouted pitifully in my ear. “Edward, I still wanna play…” she said in a sad voice, and sniffled.


“You can later, sweetheart,” I assured her as we were walking through the back door to the house.


Once we were back in the house, she got quiet and her loose grip around my neck had tightened into a death grip. When we got to the second floor and were down the hall from Carlisle's study, I decided to say our goodbyes here, and reassure her that I would be nearby.


“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” I asked softly in her ear as I tightened my own hold on her.


I knew she would be upset and that I couldn’t be in there with her. And to be perfectly honest, it was fucking stressing me out. I would know everything that happened, and everything that was discussed, but I wouldn’t be in the room, which is where she needed me to be. We were at an impasse.


She nodded but didn’t speak.


“You’re such a big girl, and you’re going to be just fine,” I encouraged in my gentle tone.


She sniffled.


We were outside of the closed door now, so I set her back down on her feet. She didn’t loosen her fisted hold that she had on my shirt as she looked up at me with watery chocolate eyes. The sight of them broke my heart and spiked my anxiety level, but I remained calm for her. I couldn’t let her know how much this was upsetting me too.


“I’ll be right here when you get done, angel. Right here waiting,” I told her with a warm smile.


She nodded and when I reached my hand out for the door knob, she suddenly gasped.


I looked back down at her as she said in a rushed voice, “I gotta go potty.”


She was looking up to me for permission, and it was probably a good idea if she got that out of the way before her session, so I nodded and she took off down the hall, back to the staircase and made her way back up to our bathroom. She didn’t know where any of the other ones were yet.


Everyone was out of the house. They had all gone hunting after Isabella had eaten her breakfast this morning. They wanted to give my Bella some privacy with her therapy, so it was just me, my dad and my girl that were here. I knew Carlisle was waiting for her in his study while reading a book, and he had heard our entire exchange, so he would know that she is willing but reluctant about this session, and that it could start just as soon as she was through using the restroom.


Edward, check on her Carlisle thought to me.


I looked down at my watch. It had been six minutes with no sign of my little angel…


Hmmm…


I was upstairs and in our bedroom in a flash, only to see that the bathroom door was open, so I knew that she wasn’t in there using it. I could smell her scent and hear her heartbeat though, so I knew that she was in this room. After pulling in a breath of her scent, my eyes zeroed in on the king size bed. She was under it.


I shook my head. “Isabella?” I called her name out softly.


I heard her breath catch and her heartbeat picked up a little bit.


“Isabella, where are you?” I asked while staring at the bed.


I heard her soft snickering and whispered giggles, so I walked around the room a little, knowing that her eyes would be following the movement of my feet. She was still trying to avoid therapy and wanted to play with me…I hated that I had to keep telling her ‘no’ to her fun-time this morning.


“Are you hiding?” I guessed out loud.


“You can’t find me,” she taunted softly and then giggled a little, trying to keep her voice down to conceal her hiding spot.


She was really too adorable for words.


“Isabella, if I can find you, will you come out?” I asked, needing to know that she wouldn’t fight me anymore this morning.


She giggled. “But you can’t find me. I’m a good hider,” she said lightly.


I chuckled. “We’ll see about that, angel. I’m a pretty good seeker,” I informed her.


She had no idea how good a ‘seeker’ I could be. I was a fast and cunning predator with excellent hunting skills.


I walked by the bathroom, the closet, and checked behind a few things just to humor her. I could tell she was amused everytime I chose the wrong spot. I could hear her soft snickers from under the bed the whole time. After a minute though, it was time for the games to be over and therapy to begin. She was already ten minutes late.


So I got down on all fours, on the side of the bed that I knew she was on, and popped my head under the bed.


“Boo.”


“Ahhh!” she mock-yelled with a big smile on her face.


I reached out and tickled her sides and the crook of her neck, causing peals of laughter and giggles to fall from her lips. When she was breathless from her laughing, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her to me, and out from underneath the bed.


“Silly girl,” I said, looking down at her with a smile.


She giggled and said, “I’m a good hider, huh?”


I nodded. “Yes, you are.”


She smiled and sat up. “Edward can we watch my Cars movie again?” she asked hopefully while pointing to the screen. “Ta-Mater is funny,” she added as an afterthought, then kissed my cheek, being extra sweet.


I kept a small smile on my face and looked into her eyes. “Maybe after therapy, angel…”


She shook her head quickly. “But can we do it now?”


I sighed and squinted my eyes at her a bit, unsure of how she would react if I just picked her up and took her down to Carlisle’s study. Right. Now.


“Later, baby,” I repeated softly.


“Wanna play dollies with me?” she asked brightly, completely changing the direction of her avoidance tactic.


I sighed. “Isabella, it’s not time to play…or bounce, or watch a movie, or color, or draw, or even cuddle. It’s time for therapy,” I reminded her.


She shook her head and looked crestfallen. “But don’t you wanna play with me…?” she asked sadly.


Manipulative little girl.


I knew she was trying to play on my feelings for her, and it seemed that guilt was a desperate last resort for her, and a low blow for me.


“Stop it,” I told her in a firm voice, letting her know that I knew what she was doing and that it wouldn’t work.


She smiled then.


“You stop it,” she said lightly, going back to the mocking game she had played with me this morning on the trampoline.


“Isabella, that is enough.”


“That is enough,” she snickered and giggled, clearly wanting to keep playing and completely blow off this therapy business.


I ignored her game and stood up. I looked down at her and gestured to the bedroom door. “Let’s go.”


She shook her head. “Uh-uh,” she muttered, then layed down on her stomach then started to crawl back underneath the bed.


I grabbed ahold of her ankles that were peeking out at me before they went under the bed as well. “No, Isabella. That’s enough, it’s time for therapy.”


“No, no, nooo,” she whined and tried to wiggle her ankles free from my grasp.


“Oh yes, yes, yes,” I insisted, then gently tugged on her ankles, pulling her back out from underneath the bed.


Her body slid along the hardwood floor with ease and soon she was back under me.


“Get up, baby girl.”


She didn’t flip her body around to look at me, just whined out, “No…“ and started to go right back for her hiding spot…under the bed.


I bent down and swatted her ass lightly before she could make anymore progress towards her target. “Now, Isabella.”


She flipped her body around then, and sat up. When she looked up and me, she started to cry, even though I know that little baby swat I gave her didn’t hurt, and said, “Don’t wanna get a doctor, Edward.”


“Let’s go,” I insisted in a hard voice.


“You go,” she insisted right back through her tears and sniffles.


I suddenly felt like an ass for taking it to this level, but she was wasting time and I was getting tired of her avoidance. I was upset too, damn it. I wanted this session to just fucking be over already, so that we could get on with our day. After the session, I could play with Isabella. I could watch a movie with her. I could play with her hair and cuddle her. But right now…this just sucked right now. We were in limbo, and would continue to be going back and forth between 'go to therapy, Isabella‘ and ‘I don‘t wanna, Edward‘ until we were both blue in the face.


So I broke out the magic question.


“Do you want to be in trouble, Isabella?”


She gasped and shook her head. I looked into her watery gaze as she started to nervously suck on those pretty pink lips.


“Then get up off the floor, and walk out that door so that you can go see Carlisle,” I suggested lowly.


“Edward, come with me,” she pleaded and wiped some tears from her eyes.


“I’ll walk you to the door and I’ll be there waiting for you when you’re done, baby,” I reassured her softly.

BPOV

“…and I’ll be here the whole time, sweetheart. I won’t leave the house, I promise,” Edward told me with conviction.


Umm. Okay.


“Well, that’s great honey,” I told him with a smile. Then I gave him a questioning gaze. “But…why can’t you leave the house?” I asked, unsure of what was going on.


And why am I on the floor?


My cheeks are wet. God, am I crying??


Nooooo doctors! Isabella shouted in my head


That’s fuckin right, damn skippy, munchkin - you tell ’em like it is! Marie agreed, cheering her on, apparently.


Ugh, you two are ridiculous…


“Bella? Baby, come here,” Edward’s voice rushed out, and I was suddenly off the ground and in his arms for a big hug…a huge hug…that he didn’t seem to want to end.


Aw, my man missed me.


I got comfortable in my spot against Edward's body, and he put his arm under me, obviously wanting to hold me like a child so that I would stay put in his grasp. Then the words came pouring out of his mouth before I could even ask. He told me everything. Everything that had happened since yesterday afternoon in the backyard, right up until the last minute when Isabella was trying to hide under the bed to avoid a simple therapy session.


I kissed him. No, I attacked him was more like it. I was so in love with this man. He put up with all of my baggage with no protest, and he loved me unconditionally. I kissed him until he was breathless this time, instead of me. I could feel the tense waves coming off of him, as he spoke of his caution about my therapy and his worries on whether he was handling the girls well, or not. They had both gotten themselves into some trouble last night and Isabella needed help with another bath…he was just so confused on these matters.


I ran my hands through his hair slowly and softly murmured against his ear, telling him how wonderful he was being about all of this and that he is doing an excellent job in handling my alternates. I reassured him with soft caresses and kisses, knowing how much he missed me, and understanding his point of view on things.


I wish I could say that I missed him too, but I barely noticed that I was gone. I mean, just a few minutes ago, it was yesterday afternoon and Edward had me in his arms, much like I was right now, and we were talking with Carlisle about my therapy schedule. A schedule that was supposed to start nearly an hour ago, apparently.


With one last kiss, he said, “Carlisle is waiting, love.”


I nodded, but made no move to get out of his arms. And he made no move to loosen his grip on me.


I laughed gently. “Are you comin’ too?” I asked, then looked down pointedly at our joined bodies.


“Oh,” he chuckled and gently set me back down on my feet.


Bell, what the fuck are you doing? Marie asked me.


“I love you, Bella,” he breathed out.


“I love you too. So much,” I assured him.


I’m going to see Carlisle, what do you think?


No! both girls yelled back at me.


Yes! I know it sucks, but we are going to fucking cooperate, damn it. We are going to therapy I told them both, leaving no room for argument.


My head was silent for a few seconds before Marie spoke up.


Who died and made you queen of the world?


I would love that job! Isabella exclaimed brightly.


I ignored them and started to make my way out of the room. Edward grabbed my hand before I reached the door, and I smiled up at him as we made our way out of our bedroom together. He walked me down the steps to the second floor and stayed by my side until we reached the door to Carlisle’s study.


We lingered there for a minute, while Edward gazed into my eyes and ran his fingers lightly along my arm, which felt amazing and I didn’t want to say anything to make him stop.


“You should go…” he whispered.


I nodded and bit my lip. I was actually a little nervous about therapy, but I was going to tough it out anyway. The Cullens had opened up their home to me and accepted Marie and Isabella. The very least I could do was cooperate and amuse Carlisle, so that he could make me ‘better’.


I scoffed at that thought.


Yeah, he could try all he wants, but it’s not gonna do a a damn bit of good.


And we’re not going anywhere Marie reminded me.


I know.


We’re bestest friends forever, huh… Isabella said.


Bestest I reassured her.


Edward kissed my lips softly and reached for the doorknob, but Carlisle opened the door before Edward could turn the knob. He had obviously been waiting for a while.


He smiled warmly at me. “Hello, Bella dear.”


“Hi Carlisle,” I responded with my own smile.


“Won’t you come in?” he asked, then moved to the side so that I could walk past him.


Once I was in the room, I looked back and saw Edward standing in the doorway giving me a longing look.


“I’ll be here when you’re done,” he reminded me softly.


I nodded and smiled at him to let him know that I really was okay.


“She’ll do just fine,” Carlisle assured him while they both stared at me.


I turned away then, uncomfortable with their intent stares. That was going to have to stop. I knew what they were doing…observing me and watching closely for any signs of a personality switch. I didn’t like it.


I’ll make them stop Marie told me.


No, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about it.


I didn’t want Marie causing any trouble over a few weird looks. That was just ridiculous.


“Bella, have a seat,” Carlisle suggested and pointed to the chair opposite of his huge wooden desk that was college-dean worthy. At least, that’s what I thought of when I looked at the thing.


I sat down in a really comfy chair and he sat in his high-backed leather chair behind his desk so that we were facing eachother. We went through the pleasantries while he took out a thick leather bound journal. It was blank, so I assumed that he had bought it brand new…just for me and my therapy and his ‘cures’ for me.


Good luck, doc.


I wanna draw in the big book Isabella said.


I’ll swipe it for you later, kid Marie told her.


Kay… Isabella snickered.


“Now, before we get started on anything else, I have a question about last night, Bella.”


“I wasn’t around last night,” I informed him. I thought he knew this already?


“I know, it’s about Marie’s behavior.”


“Okay,” I nodded.


What did you do?


Not a motherfuckin thing, I don’t know what doctor dad is talkin about, Bell. Honest she insisted.


Okay…


“She seems to have an issue with sleep, Bella. And while that identifies the root and cause of your recent sleep deprivation, it still concerns us. Your body needs rest on a continuous cycle, and if it does not get the required amount of sleep on a regular basis, it can lead to other health problems. A weak immune system, being one of them,” he informed me.


I nodded, already aware of this problem and understanding his concerns. “I know. I’ve had the problem with sleep deprivation since back in November, around Thanksgiving. I can tell you that it is, in fact, because of Marie, as it was because of Isabella when I was a child,” I told him and leaned back in the chair, folding my legs up by me as well, getting comfortable for this whole therapy fiasco.


“She doesn’t understand certain things about our body,” I continued. “The things that freak her out, she avoids at all costs. Those things being sleep, illness, and my menstrual cycle,” I ticked off on three fingers.


“She doesn’t understand exhaustion and how it can make her focus and movements sluggish. She doesn’t like the feeling of sleep fogging up her brain, making her body shut down. She absolutely loathes the aches and pains that go along with being sick…with either the flu or a simple cold, which I have had quite a few times since she’s showed up. And she doesn’t understand my monthly period. So, naturally…she will avoid having to deal with it,” I informed him.


“There was a time a few months back, when I had a tampon inside of my body for nineteen hours because she wanted to avoid my period and deny what was happening. When she started feeling sharp pains in her abdomen, she skipped out, bringing me back into awareness, and was immediately freaking out inside of my head…asking me what the fuck was going on, and why our body was feeling this way. I could tell almost instantly what she was talking about and removed the tampon immediately. I felt horrible and I wanted to know why. It was when I checked the time, that I learned it had been inside of me for a lot longer than the instructions permitted. I had to go to the hospital that night and get put on antibiotics to make sure that I didn’t get a bacterial infection because of Marie’s denial.”


Carlisle nodded for me to continue.


“Similar things happened with Isabella, her main thing being sleep, as well. She didn’t mind being sick as much as Marie does though. Isabella is used to aches and pains…” I trailed off suggestively. “While Marie is not,” I finished curtly.


“That is very interesting,” he murmured, looking up at me from his writing.


I wanted to roll my eyes, but refrained from doing so. “The only thing I can suggest, is that you keep up the prescription for my sleeping pill. That way it forces my body to shut down and rest, whether Marie likes it or not.”


He nodded at my suggestion, then chuckled lightly. “Yes, she wasn’t having any of it last night. She was fighting tooth and nail to stay awake, before she finally started pleading with Isabella to come out and deal with it for her. Surprisingly, Isabella complied,” he informed me with a raised eyebrow.


I nodded and smiled. “Yes, Isabella would. She’s been around a lot longer than Marie, and has her own ingrained need to protect and take care of me. Her need extends to Marie as well, so yeah…she would help her out with that,” I informed him.


He nodded and continued to write for a few seconds. When he looked back into my eyes, I saw that his were filled with concern and apprehension. I tensed immediately, wondering what direction he was going to choose to take this session today. It had been calm and relaxed until now.


“Would you like to tell me how this all started, Bella? I mean, I know the basics, and what you told me about Jim, but…I would really like to know about the first time you saw, or heard Isabella. When had your mind created her? What particular event caused her breakthrough? Do you remember?” he asked, dazzling and persuading an answer out of me with his demeanor and tone alone.


Stupid, dazzling vampire.


I nodded. “Yeah…I do,” I whispered, all of a sudden reluctant. My mood had shifted with the shift in our topic.


“Would you like to talk about that today, Bella? I figured we might as well start from the beginning…” he suggested with a reassuring smile.


I bit my lip and nodded. “Um, yeah…sure,” I said in an unsure voice, then cleared my throat to dislodge the lump that had started to form there.


He raised his eyebrows, silently asking me to continue.


Bella, thats just between us…you don’t gotta tell him anything Isabella told me.


I ignored her, and told him my story. It was a very small piece of my entire story, but I could offer him this little piece of information.


I mean, I was going to cooperate, right?


If you fuckin say so… Marie’s voice trailed off as she began to hum lightly in almost a whisper so that she wouldn‘t have to pay attention to this next part.


“I remember a short time, before Isabella arrived, when there was a lot of abuse. So it wasn’t just one particular incident...more like a build-up, Carlisle, you must understand that,” I stressed.


The atmosphere in the room was suddenly serious. There were no more smiles, no more polite talking. We were getting down to business now, and we both knew it.


He kept his gaze on me and nodded, acknowledging what I told him and letting me know that he was all ears.


I sighed, crossed my arms protectively over my chest, and kept eye contact as I began telling him random memories.


“Once, he put me in the oven and shut the door. I remember him holding my hand over a boiling tea kettle because I had touched something of his. Umm…I believe my first, and main, memory of abuse would be the closet, though. Renee was working late, or out…as usual, and I was with Jim. I lived with him there, at his creeptacular house for a while. He moved me and my mom in shortly after their god awful relationship began. Anyway…I think I spilled milk all over the table, and in a fit of rage, Jim dragged me to the closet that was inside the closet under the front stairs. It was a small compartment, reached by a door behind the coats. It had seemed like an odd, and mysterious place to Bobby and me -”


He interrupted me with a raise of his hand. “Who is Bobby?”


“Oh. That’s Jim’s son. He was a year older than me…pretty cool kid,” I revealed nonchalantly with a shrug.


His pen went back to work on that leather book, and he nodded. “Sorry for the interruption, please continue…”


“Sure. Anyway, me and Bobby couldn’t figure out why anyone would build a closet inside of a closet,” I said with a shake of my head and a nervous chuckle.


I hesitated, but eventually continued on. “Um…I vividly remember putting up a big fight when Jim grabbed me…


“No, daddy, no!! I’ll be good!” My arms and legs were flailing, trying to get away and hold on at the same time. “I’m sorry I spilled the milk,” I cried. He peeled me off of him and shoved me into the blackness of the closet. I screamed and screamed, throwing my whole body against the door. My heart beat wildly in my chest. The blackness was an all encompassing thing. That was all there was. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The certainty of being lost and forgotten engulfed me. After the screaming, came my exhaustion and sniffling tears. I have no way of knowing if I was there for minutes or hours. At five years old, it seemed like forever. I was terrified of the spiders that I thought lived in the closet. I started sucking my thumb in the bleakness of abandonment when Jim finally opened the door. I looked at him in defiance. “Just you wait until mommy gets home, I’munna tell her what you did to me!” Jim grabbed my arm, almost ripping it from it’s socket and dragged me up the stairs to my new bedroom. He threw me on the bed before leaving the room…


I sniffled then, and realized I had started to tear up. I clenched my eyes shut to rid them of the few tears that had gathered there, and quickly wiped them away. I looked back up to Carlisle too see his intent stare on me, so I cleared my throat and muttered an apology for stopping.


He nodded. “You’re fine dear. You’re doing great…” he encouraged.


I nodded and took a deep, cleansing breath before continuing.


In a few minutes, he came back with some big blue scarves. While I struggled and screamed, he tied my arms and legs to the posts of my bed. I remember his icy blue eyes that were looking at me, but not actually seeing me. In a stern voice Jim said to me, “You are a wicked little girl. If you ever tell anyone what I do to you, I will give you away to people who will sell you for money and who will tie you down and hurt you. They will fuck you, Isabella, and you will never see Mommy or Bobby ever again. You must never tell anyone that I hurt you.” He took something and stuck it into what I know now as my asshole...or anus, whatever. It was white fire. I writhed against the scarves that were binding me and screamed and screamed. “You must not tell, because this is how those men will hurt you. They will take their big cocks and stick them inside of you. Just. Like. This.” he told me while gliding the thing in and out of me three times. When he finally stopped, he prodded, "You're not going to say a fucking word. Are you?" I shook my head frantically as he stood there, staring at me with a glint in his cold eyes while I cried, bound to the bed. When I quieted down, he untied me and told me to stay in my room. That I was on a time-out. So I stayed, and when mommy and Bobby came home I did not say a word about the closet or my experience on the bed. I just sucked my thumb. I remember the blood on my panties and the searing pain when I used the bathroom. I held it until I thought I would burst and then cried at the stinging pain as I finally relieved myself.


I cleared my throat and tore my gaze away from Carlisle’s penetrating gold one. Instead, I focused on a squiggle line that was in the wood of his college-dean desk. I focused on it until it turned into two squiggle lines, then blinked, so that when I looked again, it was just the one line.


I continued in a subdued voice. “Umm…I’m sure that it became easier for Jim to do what he did to me as time went on. He is certifiably insane and delusional, so everything that he did to me had a purpose…a fucking divine purpose, is what he called it. Anyway, severe punishments were dealt out for minor childish mistakes. I don’t even remember what I did wrong. But…the punishments stand out clearly in my mind…"


I think I broke something of his when I was dragged down to the basement, stripped naked, and tied to a cold, steel table with the blue scarves, with my legs spread-eagled so far apart that I thought my hips were ripping. “You’re an evil little kike. We’ll just have to sew you shut so you won’t spread your wickedness.” While I lay screaming, Jim took a needle and threaded it with black thread, then leaned on me to keep me from wriggling. His face had that angry, glazed over look, as he hit me to keep me from thrashing against the restraints. He sewed my labia together with the black thread. I could barely breathe as the needle went through me. The sewing seemed to take forever. Jim’s elbow dug into my stomach as he leaned his weight on me and he pinched my tiny parts closed for the stitching. He was growling out things at me as he worked. I don’t remember anything he said, but as I saw his face over me, I knew that he was out of his mind. I ended up puking from the panic and pain. That only seemed to enrage him further, though. He got the scissors, cut the thread, untied me and then turned me over to lie in the vomit and beat me with his belt. When he was satisfied, he climbed the basement steps and left the room with a bang of the door. Choking and gagging from the trauma, I crawled off the table, towards a dark corner and huddled there for a long time. I was silent and sucked my thumb as tears streamed down my hot face. Numbness drifted over me as I rocked myself and wondered what I could do to not be wicked. I was sorry that I was bad. I put my fists to my eyes for a long time, watching as black spots like stars appeared behind my lids. Like the stars that floated in my eyes, I wanted to float away from the pain. Maybe for a little while, I could be a pretty bird and fly out on the soft breeze, then sit on the swaying branch of a tree and call to the other birds who would come and snuggle me with fluffed feathers. And before I knew it, I was up in the very tiptop leaves singing happy songs with all of my pretty bird friends. That day was the beginning of me learning different ways to escape…through my mind.


“You’re doing so well, Bella,” Carlisle whispered to me as a teardrop splashed onto my forearm.


I had brought my knees up to my chest, in an unconscious defensive gesture, and had my arms wrapped tightly around my shins, giving me something to hold onto. I nodded in his direction but kept my eyes on my new favorite squiggly line. I sighed and continued with different pieces of my story.


“For seemingly no fucking reason at all, Jim began pulling up my dress and putting his cigarettes out on my leg…and inner thighs. I would cry and beg him not to do it anymore. He would smack my mouth with his big, rough hand, telling me that I could only speak to him when he asked it of me. I mean, even one burn can feel excruciating to a small leg. I would do my best to stay far away from him when he smoked.”


I cleared my throat again and flashed my eyes up at Carlisle to see his sympathetic stare on me. He smiled reassuringly.


“I don’t remember feeling angry with Jim. I remember feeling sorry that I was so bad…so evil. I thought that my daddy was so strong and handsome, everyone in town loved him…he made my mom happy. I wanted nothing more than to please him. I tried very hard. Um, when he came home from shopping, one time, I remember running to him with my arms outstretched for a hug, like I had seen mom do with him…I remember the hurt that I felt when he sidestepped that hug. After that, I learned not to touch him.”


Getting tied to a chair in the dining room became a frequent punishment for my minor mistakes. Jim would grab my hair, yanking on it and say, “You laugh and are always happy just like that dirty kike, Joan of Arc. Everyone loved her, and they love you. You steal people away with your ridiculous laughter. I think you should burn, just like she did.” Jim lit a match and held it up to my face. “I will burn you, Isabella. All of your fair skin will melt off and you will be so fucking ugly. I bet you won’t laugh anymore then, little girl.” He held the match to the ends of my hair and then would hold it along my arms that were tied down and unable to escape the heat.


I squinted my eyes and ran a hand through my hair before continuing in my hollow, subdued voice. “The memories I have of abuse when I was that small have the strongest emotional intensity for me, since I hadn’t yet learned the mind’s trick of dissociating away from the pain,” I informed Carlisle.


“Mm-hmm,” he hummed in agreement, his pen flying furiously across the pages of his journal.


“When my mom was around, or Bobby got home from school, the torture stopped. When mom was home, Jim was nice to me, as though I wasn’t evil anymore. It confused me at first, but then I quickly figured out that Renee equaled my safety. If I was in her presence or within touching distance, I wouldn’t be harmed. So, I clung to her when I could.”


I gave a small smile then at the thought of my mother. “Mom was always fun. I got piggyback rides and she would softly brush my hair every morning…we would play with my dolls and have tickle fights on the floor. My favorite thing was to cuddle up in her lap when she read me stories. She would always give me kisses and would lightly blow on my neck, making me laugh at the tickling goosebumps…” I trailed off wistfully.


Carlisle smiled warmly at me, clearly glad for at least one good person in my childhood. My mother was good to me. Clueless, but very good, all the same.


I got quiet then, remembering when Isabella started coming around. I sniffled and began my explanation of her.


"Isabella was a friend who started showing up in the basement with me, in the long black hours of silence and imagination. I don’t remember the particular day that she arrived, but I have very clear memories of her..."


“Your daddy doesn’t like you,” she informed me.
“He’s your daddy, too.”
“No. Today, I’ll have a new daddy. Come cuddle up with me in the corner, away from the stinky place, and I’ll tell you all about our new daddy.”
“Okay,” I agreed, vividly seeing Isabella in the darkness. My new friend was the exact replica of me, like a twin sister. I had always wanted one of those. She had long, silky brown hair with shiny blonde highlights that seemed to glow in the blackness of the basement. She was full of ideas and mischief.
“Our new daddy has long fingers that will tickle our back, and he likes to sing to us. Listen. I will teach you a song.”
And in the dark basement, she sang in a clear, sweet voice that mimicked my own, making up different ballads with silly words. She also thought of games for the two of us to play. The basement became a more regular occurrence. Isabella, my imaginary, escapist friends, became more real to me in the isolation of the long, locked-away basement hours. In the beginning, she could do wonderful, amazing things; she could fly, breathe under water, and could even dare to be angry.

One time, my mother went on a trip and I was thrown down into the basement for what seemed like an eternity. I banged my head again and again on the basement door at the top of the steps. At first, I screamed and cried, then as time wore on...I just sucked my thumb. I worried that I had been forgotten. I wet my panties. I was thirsty and hungry. I poked my fingers to my closed eyes to see the spots of color as a contrast to the absolute blackness of my confined space. I remember thinking my thumb had juice in it. My thirst was tamed by sucking my thumb constantly. Soon, I had to go to the bathroom, but I held it, causing my stomach to cramp until I was doubled over in pain. Finally, I just went to a corner in the basement and relieved myself, wiping afterwards with my wet panties. I sat in the stinky black basement and waited. And waited.
“I’m here,” Isabella whispered. “We can’t stay here though, Bella. It’s stinky. Let’s go to the park. Or, no! The zoo.”
“We can’t go, we have to stay here.”
“No! See the elephant over there reaching out with a peanut? Don’t let the slobber on the end of his trunk get on you, though. Let’s ask him for a ride!”
“I call dibs on throwing pieces of bread to the bears. I like the one that claps,” I said, joining in on the fun of her game.
“If you’re nice and sweet, the monkey will come over to the bars and touch your fingers. Maybe we could go through the bars and swing on the tire inside with the whole monkey family. I bet we can hang upside down by our knees.”
“Do you think the mommy monkey will try to pick things out of our hair? I bet it’ll tickle. She might let us hold her baby. Come here, Fuzzy. Let’s call him that, because he’s all soft. Baby thingys are always soft.”
“Look! He’s coming to us. He likes us. Hold your hand out. Sloooowly. Oh, good. He’s letting you pet him. He likes to nibble on fingers.”
After hours of adventure, we were back in the basement, cramped and thirsty.
Isabella said, “He’s a meanie to leave us in here. I’m bored, there’s nothing to do. It’s not fair that he put us in here. I’m getting really mad. You know what we should do? Let’s go play with the boo-boo ca-ca in the corner. It’s soft and squishy…”
I shook my head.
“Let’s smear it on the walls and leave it for Daddy to clean up. That’s what he gets for leaving us down here.”
“No! We can’t do that, he’ll hurt us.”
“I don’t care! He might leave us down here for ever and ever, until our skin rots and falls off.”
“Please don’t get us in trouble,” I pleaded.
Isabella went to the pile of feces and picked it up in her small hands as I watched with my magic eyes that could see in the blackness. I watched in fascination as she smeared and painted all over the walls, getting it in our fingers and hair, letting it cover us in angry satisfaction.
When the basement door finally opened, Jim let out an angry growl as he grabbed my hair and yanked me up the steps, out into the hallway. “What the fuck?!”
“My friend did it, Daddy. I’m sorry! She did it.”
“You’re an evil little liar!“ He beat me with a leather belt, making the welts burn as he chanted, “ I will give you purity Isabella.” When he was done, he grabbed my arm and shoved me back into the basement, pushing me down the cement steps.
Crying, I said, “See, Isabella, being mad doesn’t help…just makes it worse.”
“It was worth it,” she told me, beginning our lifetime of differences on how to deal with Jim.

I was down in the basement for so long, I remember lying on the floor, drifting in and out of dreams of water. I was so thirsty. When the door was finally opened, I was only in a semiconscious state. I couldn’t walk. Jim picked me up and carried me to my bed. He was so nice to me, I think he was worried that I was dying. He turned on cartoons and brought me chicken soup, and a grilled cheese sandwich with the crusts cut off. Just how I like it. I was too weak to eat, though…so he fed me.


I looked up from my squiggly line that I had focused on again to see Carlisle staring at me with a very intrigued, but sad expression…his gaze always on me, but his pen always moving. I gave him a small smile to let him know that I was okay, then continued on. It was like the floodgates had opened suddenly.


Isabella showed me a memory of my surgery, so I decided to talk about that next…


I was getting alarmingly thin. The doctors had decided that I was malnourished because of all the infections I’d had and said that my tonsils should come out. I went to the hospital. My mother had given me a bear that I had named Pooh, although he was a teddy bear and not really a true Pooh bear. I remember getting strapped to a table and looking at a man with a mask on his face. I suddenly panicked, thinking that this was the man Jim had told me he was going to give me away to, and that I was about to have the white-hot fire pain inside of me again. I began struggling and screaming in my state of absolute panic. The doctor tried to calm me down by telling me, “I’m going to put a cloth that smells like orange juice over your nose and mouth. Just breathe deeply.” The instant he put the cloth on my face, I knew he lied. It didn’t smell like orange juice. And then everything went black. When I woke up, only my throat was sore, not my ass, and the nurse dressed in white gave me icecream to eat. I cowered in the bed and asked her where the bad man was, and when he was coming to get me. She laughed and said, “There are no bad men here, sweetheart. What you saw was a doctor.” During my hospital stay, Pooh bear and I became inseparable. Because I was so skinny, they kept me in the hospital for a few extra days. Mommy came every night, and all the nurses were nice. The doctor who had scared me and lied to me brought me a hand puppet and apologized with it for scaring me. The nurses rubbed my back and put lotion on me. One had beautiful reddish brown hair. I didn’t want to leave that man, with the kind voice and gentle touch. I knew Jim didn’t want me to come back home.


“The year before kindergarten was an extremely long nightmare. I lived in a constant state of anxiety and terror…"


Jim grabbed my hand and yanked it on top of the cutting board. He pressed the meat cleaver to the back of my fingers and said, “I’m going to cut off all your fingers and make pickles with them, Isabella. Then I’ll give them to Mommy and Bobby with their dinner. They will love them…very crunchy and so small...so tasty. They won’t even know they’re eating your fingers.” I sobbed as I stood there, waiting for the big cleaver to come smashing down.


“His eyes would always dart around in an excited way as his tales of my intended torture got worse. The light would catch the blue and browns of his eyes as he scanned his chaotic, sick mind for plans of what he would do next. It wasn't very long before I learned to recognize those eyes and know that all I could do in the presence of their wildness was just…endure. Screaming and begging never helped me.”


“I practiced getting dressed and playing, using only my thumbs. I got really good at pretending that I had no fingers. I decided that the hardest thing would be fastening buttons and tying up my shoes. I worried about it so much because I was so certain that one day Jim would actually cut my fingers off.”


“Jim’s conversations when I was alone with him, while mom was at work and Bobby was at school, were becoming increasingly sadistic…”


“I would like to just cut you all up, Isabella. I could cook you with the wine and mushrooms and have a dinner party, serving pot roast of Isabella to all of our guests and friends.” He took out a cookbook and read me various recipes, telling me all the new ways that I could be cooked and eaten. “I think your fuckable little ass will look just like a pork roast if I surround it with red potatoes. What do you think Mommy will say when she learns that she’s actually eating you? Do you think she’ll like the taste of your ass, Isabella?” I sat quietly, sucking my thumb and feeling sad that my family would eat me. I worried about what it would be like to be eaten, and worried if my mom would, in fact, like the taste of me.


“Jim talked to an angel. I was terrified of him whenever he would speak to it, because it told him that I was evil and wicked…and needed to be punished. I guess that’s when I should have figured out that he was a fucking psychotic, but when I was that little, all I knew was that I was petrified. Jim would begin pacing back and forth, slamming things around…all the while, babbling nonsense to his angel. This usually happened right before I would be hurt again.”


I cleared my throat again. It was getting dry. “I absolutely believed in the reality of his angel. In great detail, Jim would describe to me the seven foot tall angel with enormous feathered wings that she kept wrapped around her white gown, almost like a fur coat…he told me, “This is a special angel that God has sent me. She is a Christian angel. She knows all about evil kikes like you. She’ll be watching you for me. She fucking understands that filth like you should have never been born.”


“Jim could see her, and speak to her, and although this fucking angel was invisible to me, I could swear that I caught a glimpse of that wicked bitch. There were many times that I tried to talk to this angel…I would say things like, ’I’m sorry that I’m a kike’ ’please don’t hurt me’ ’can you tell daddy to stop hurting me?’ …all of it went unanswered, of course. It was clear to me that this angel wanted me dead.”


I sighed and soldiered on for just a little longer. “There was this time that Jim tried to drown me…"


I was in the old pedestal bathtub getting my hair washed. I was wriggling around and whimpering because shampoo had gotten in my eyes. Jim was talking to that damn invisible angel of his when he suddenly grabbed me and plunged me under the water. I looked up through the warm water at Jim’s face above me. His wide, icy blue eyes stared down at me, and some of his blonde hair fell into his eyes. His lips were pressed together as though he was holding his breath, counting the seconds of my oxygen supply. I kicked and struggled, feeling the panic of not being able to breathe. Then I melted into the black abyss and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the cold bathroom tiles, coughing and vomiting up water. Jim watched me struggle to get air back in my lungs through my suddenly sore and raw throat, while muttering, “I wish I could kill you, you dirty little kike. I fucking hate you. You are stealing your mother away from me.”


Bella, I don't wanna talk about this anymore... Isabella whined.


Me either…


Where’s my Edward?


Outside.


I looked up from the desk then and put my feet back on the floor. I stretched my arms above my head. “Um…yeah, that’s not even really scratching the surface, Carlisle…but I don’t want to go on about Jim anymore today,” I informed him. “If that’s alright?” I added as an afterthought, not sure if I was being rude.


He was the doctor, after all. He got to choose what we talked about.


Of course it’s motherfucking alright, Bell! Don’t you let this douchebag make you talk about that shit…I personally don’t wanna hear about it anymore. Marie commented.

CPOV

“That’s fine, Bella…we’ve made remarkable progress today. How do you feel?” I asked while handing her a tissue.


I honestly hadn’t expected to get her to open up this much in our first session, but it looks like I lucked out in that department. I made sure to record everything. Ever single word out of her mouth was vital to this therapy session. The events of her childhood are definitely horrific, but at least now we can begin to further understand the depth of what her and Isabella had to endure, and we can also know how to better handle Isabella and what to expect from her.


“Fucking. Dandy,” she said.


At a closer look, I realized that Marie had come into awareness.


“What would you like to talk about today, Marie?” I asked her.


“No fucking idea, doctor dad. What do you want to talk about?” she countered with a smirk.


“How about, why you are here…?” I headged, hopefully.


She smiled. “That’s easy. I am here because of all the mystical bullshit in your supernatural world. It really is lovely, isn’t it?” she asked slyly with bright eyes and a nod of her head.


“Well…”


“I mean, I wonder what kind of powers my Bell will have once you change her into one of you tricky fucking bloodsuckers. Will she shoot laser beams out her eyes? Fireballs out her ass? Teleport places? The possibilities are both fuckawesome and endless…” she trailed off with a smile, cocking her head to the side.


She sat back in her chair then, and pulled her legs up to sit Indian style. She rested her elbows on her knees, put her chin in her hands and stared at me intently.


“What’s your power, doc?” she asked after a minute of silence.


“I don’t have one,” I informed her.


“Bummer.”


“Yes. Bummer.”


“Indeed,” she agreed with raised eyebrows.


“So getting back to why you are here…” I trailed off suggestively.


“Right. Well, doc…vampires and werewolves are all fine and fluffy, until shit gets complicated. Like, when your vamped out boyfriend’s brother trying to eat you at your goddamn birthday party. Like, your best friend turning into a gigantic, snarling wolf right before your fucking eyes. Like, a pair of sick, twisted vampire fucks hunting you down, intent on your demise. Oh, and then…you’ll love this part,” she hinted with a smirk and a bit of amusement. “One of those fucking vampires actually gets a hold of you…“ she trailed off before her tone became clipped and her face hard, “and toys with you, before he breaks your fucking leg…oh no, but not before he bites you, sending indescribable burning fire rushing through your veins, making you believe that you are being burned alive,” she growled out with a pointed glare my way.


I just stayed quiet, knowing that she wasn’t done with her rant. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself.


When she opened them back up, she continued on. “Oh, and then these motherfucking demented Italian, prissy uptight goddamn pricks...these vampires from another land want to kill you also. They actually say it...threaten it to your face. While your vampire boyfriend stands watch. Un-fucking-acceptable. And your best friend, who is a goddamn werewolf, by the way, gets all pissy with you and abandons you, after your vampire boyfriend abandons you, all while the second twisted fuck that I told you about a second ago, is still out to get you. She is hunting you down like a goddamn dog, and you just know…can just fucking sense that she is close. Close to her goal of ripping out your beating heart, just right the fuck out of your chest, in the most brutal of ways…probably only to eat it right in front of you as you lay dying on the goddamn cold, hard ground.”


“I see…” I trailed off.


I knew what Bella had been through was traumatic, but she had never complained. I guess none of us ever took the time to see things from her point of view.


“Oh, I don’t think you do,” she scoffed quickly. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part, doc. So lean the fuck back in your ritzy ass, expensive chair and enjoy my motherfucking story,” she insisted with a hard look.


“Alright, fair enough. I would love to hear your story, Marie,” I encouraged, as I grabbed my pen off the desk, prepared to start a new page of information.


She nodded and began, keeping her chin relaxed in her hands. “I’m not going into details like my Bell, though. So don’t get your panties all in a twist when I don’t fucking elaborate shit for you,” she pointed out, keeping up our eye contact.


I nodded.


“I beat people who try to hurt my Bell. I kill people who try to fuck her, or take a knife to her. I absolutely love doing it…I enjoy seeing the light go out in those motherfucker’s eyes. Knowing that I’m the last thing those filthy assholes see before I send them off to hell, is a blissed out high like no other. It makes me fucking wet,” she informed me with a devilish smirk.


…what? Edward, violence is a sexual turn-on for Marie I told my son, knowing this was a problem everyone needed to be informed of, and that he had been on the other side of that damn door, hanging onto her every word.


I wrote down everything she said, as she said it.


“I protect my Bell, simply because she is mine, and I take care of what is mine. I steal. I do not lie. I don’t understand why people do, it’s fucking stupid. I don’t give a damn about other people’s thoughts or feelings. Shit like that just doesn’t matter to me. I can’t fucking stand sleep. It’s a ridiculous concept and I hate doing it. Waste. Of. My. Fucking. Time. I sell drugs. I believe that school is motherfucking pointless. And, goddamn it, I love me some loud fuckin music while tokin on a joint,” she informed me.


I wrote it all down, and when I looked back up to her face, I could sense a change in her demeanor.


She sighed and kicked her legs out in front of her.


She leaned back in the chair.


She sighed again.


"Isabella?" I guessed.


A flash of recognition flashed in her eyes, but she didn't respond. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at me, pursing her lips while she was at it.


"Would you like to talk today, too?" I asked her softly.


"Fuck..." she trailed off, tilting her head to the side, "Off," she finished, keeping her narrowed eyes on mine.


"You don't have to talk, if you don't want to," I assured her.


She didn't respond, just kept her surprisingly cold glare on me. After three minutes of silence and uncomfortable staring, she spoke.


"Bella won't forget me."


"Okay."


"Edward wants to keep me."


"I know."


She rose from her seat then, and sauntered slowly to the corner of my desk.


"So then, leave us the fuck alone," she demanded in her quiet, childish voice, then reached out a quick hand to fling my leather journal off the desk and onto the ground.


I sighed, not wanting to react to her behavior and bent down to pick up my journal. When I had it situated back on my desk, I looked up to see Isabella walking towards the door. I looked at the clock and noticed that it had been almost a two-hour session.


I smiled. We certainly accomplished a lot today.