|Think of England
Author: a nyr byrjun PM
REPOSTED: At only the young age of nine, Bella is kidnapped but as she grows older she does not know how to feel about her captor, Edward. Warning: This story does include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.Rated: Fiction M - English - Horror - Bella & Edward - Chapters: 8 - Words: 31,406 - Reviews: 157 - Favs: 123 - Follows: 171 - Updated: 10-18-12 - Published: 07-19-12 - id: 8337492
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: This a repost of Think of England. Before I decided to delete this story, it was not officially taken off by FF, so I suppose I can put it back up. I know some readers were deeply disappointed and so was I, to have to story no longer on this website. For those who were against this story before, get over it. K?
I'll be posting each chapter a couple days apart or one each week.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.
Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.
"By plucking her petals, you do not gather the beauty of the flower." - Rabindrath Tagore
I was once a little girl.
Once still innocent and naive. Happy. But that was before him. Before he took me away, before everything I knew suddenly changed. If only I had knew then what I know now. Maybe if things would have happened differently, maybe if I would have just listened to my parents before I had acted so irrationally, I wouldn't be this way.
But I didn't, how stupid I had been. How irresponsible. But then it didn't seem so much a bad thing, kids never listened to what their parents had said. I surely didn't, it was my fault. I wandered away from the small open space of the park, only to get lost and then my mind blurs. I couldn't remember anything after that.
I had no one to blame but myself for the life I live now. The only other person I could possibly hate was him, my demon.
He was in every way evil, even if it didn't seem like it, he was. His sweet gestures, comforting touches and soothing whispers were all a facade. He treated me like I was his child, but truly he had taken me from the only family I had known. The only thing that would ever save me, but it was too late to dream or hope. They weren't going to come get me, they didn't know where I was.
I hadn't even known we weren't in Forks, Washington anymore when I had woken up. The front seat wasn't any comfortable and my small limbs ached to stretch. The car was limiting and not what I remembered it to be. I was still half asleep when I struggled to open my eyes. I peeked a glance at who was behind the wheel and I only saw hands.
They were pale, and bony. Nothing like my father's whose were wrinkled from years of age and hard work. And certainly nothing like my mother's, pink and soft. My eyes trailed up from the man's forearm to his shoulder and I finally saw his face. Well, the side of it.
His jaw was angular and firm looking. His nose perfectly straight, and his lips were pouty. He looked to be chiseled out of stone, not because he was so still, but even by only seeing half of his face, I had known he was more than a teenager, but still less than a man. And through his awkwardness, there was beauty. But that didn't stop me from quickly panicking. My young mind couldn't understand what was happening or why I was in a car with a stranger. I knew not to talk to strangers but that didn't stop me from questioning him.
"Who are you?" I had asked, trying to make myself as small as possible, while huddling into the corner of the car door. My voice was quiet, nothing more than a frightened whisper, but it was loud enough to catch his attention and pull his eyes away from the road.
When he looked at me, all I saw was green, vibrant green. The color of new leaves in the spring, it made me think of a forest. His hair was a disheveled mess of bronze, the color striking against his pale skin. But what disturbed me further than the sharp contrast of the color of his hair to the color of his skin, was the way his lips curled up at the side of his mouth to make a grin.
A lopsided grin, it made my stomach do somersaults. In a good way and in a bad way. I couldn't describe what I was feeling, trapped in a car with a strange man. I couldn't think locked in the eyes of a snake. I knew the situation was wrong, dangerous even, but he hypnotized me. I didn't dare look away.
"I thought you would never wake." He uttered softly, his voice a velvet breath. He hadn't answered my question, but that wasn't what had scared me. The thing that scared me was the way he spoke to me, there was some underlying importance to what he had said. I should have known there was a reason he was saying such things to me, but I didn't need to know that to suspect this wasn't right.
He had taken me away from the only world I had known, the normal world. The world where children are safe and cherished. They are loved the proper way, never to be taken advantage of or mistreated. But that world didn't exist, things happened to them everyday. Bad things, only we weren't strong enough to fight them. I wasn't strong enough to fight them. Nor would I ever be, I would be his forever.
He had reached over and brushed the back of his hand against my round cheek, the feeling that I had felt then, I still shiver from remembering how cold his hand felt upon my face in that still of a moment before everything changed.
"What has you thinking so hard, love?" I almost jumped out of my skin as I heard his murmur. I looked up to find him coming through the doorway, his face in curious wonder. The corners of his mouth twitched and I knew he was fighting a smile.
"Nothing," I told him quietly, looking down at book I held in my hands. It was sprawled across my lap lazily, the corners of the pages crisp against my legs. I tried to read the words but I could only stare at the ink of text without really seeing it.
I felt him come closer and forced myself to relax instead of freeze. It would only make things harder than they had to be, you would think I was used to this by now. Used to the feeling of cold hands on my shoulders, slowing rubbing circles into the back of my neck with his thumbs, but I wasn't. Each time he touched me it felt like the first time he had touched me.
His cool hand had crept lower, the small rush of his fingertips were soft. They slowly glided over the bare skin of my arm, down to the end of my small wrist. His hand closed over it, the length of his fingers overlapping in a bracelet. I had been looking down, my eyes too frightened to glance at his face. But I could feel him, next to me, his chest pressing against my side.
It seemed he was caging me, his broad shoulders towering over me, his arms reaching to hold me. I wouldn't let him, I didn't want him to. But I didn't have a say, it seemed like he was everywhere. I couldn't escape. He wouldn't let me.
I shivered slightly as I felt his breath on the skin of my neck, he brushed back my hair, reaching to kiss the spot where the end of my jaw contoured. His lips were foreign to me, I had never felt them before now. Never had been touched so intimately with such care, like a precious piece of glass. That only he could break, that he would only break.
The way they slid over my skin, his lips. The smooth pressure, I felt like I was about to burst. I wanted to move away from his grasp, but I was too scared to do anything. I tried to pull away slightly, when his large hand closed over the side of my neck, his fingers resting on the nape lovingly. He guided my head closer, his cheek pressing against mine. I squirmed feeling my eyes water, I started to whimper pulling at my arms.
"Stop," he whispered, his breathing almost ragged. "Stop moving." The pit of my stomach hurt, I couldn't understand why this was happening. I was lost in his unwanted embrace, being smothered by his mouth. His face was too close to mine, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I wanted to close my eyes and never open them. I never wanted to see his face, but I didn't have that choice.
I focused on the detailed curtains that hung over the windowsill. The delicate white lace, the way it ruffled to close. It seemed wrong in the moment, but I wanted to be that curtain. Untouched and pure. It seemed like a mockery to me, I would never be like that curtain. Never hang so gracefully, left to be alone.
One moment his left hand was lain on my lower back, then it sneaked up under the hem quietly. He didn't travel much further up, but kept his hand closed around the side of my mid-section. His hand was cold, making my pink skin curdle with goosebumps. It seemed like his whole hand was bigger than me, I had only been a child, nine years of age.
But I had enough sense to know this wasn't suppose to be happening, that men shouldn't touch little girls. That strangers weren't to be trusted. I had only known him for a week then, which before then I had fought, I cried, I bleed from hitting myself against the walls so hard. He was furious to say the least, but hadn't taken his frustrations out on me. He said I would learn, learn to accept this life. Learn to trust him, care for him. Love him.
I didn't want to listen, believe him. I couldn't, I didn't want to. But he made it very clear that I would respect him, be his little girl. His daughter, his companion, his lover in one point or another. He didn't explain this all at one time, as he had held my tear stained face in his hands. His thumbs stroking the water from my cheeks. He said I was too young to know of any of those things. But still he touched me.
He said to relax, enjoy, make him happy. Make daddy happy, but he wasn't my father. My father wouldn't do this. His arms had tightened when I told him this and he had stared at me, his eyes almost piercing. I was more than afraid, scared. I didn't know what to expect from this creature, who would make such a monster? Why did he have to take me?
But all he did was bring his face closer to mine, our noses almost touching, his eyes had seemed to be more fierce than before if that was possible. I was shaking slightly, my small bottom lip trembled. "I am the only person in your life now, you have no one else. I'm the only one you have and you are the only one I have. Bella, I'm trying to make this work. I need you to let me make this work. You wouldn't want to hurt me, would you?"
I shook my head, having nothing else to say. I didn't know what to say, or what to do. I let him tell me whatever he wanted, he was in charge. I let him coax me with his soft voice, the small comfort of words. I was safer that way, safe in his arms that being battered by them. His anger frightened me but when he was like this, gentle, it made me feel there was hope. Hope for something better, I would find a way to get back to the way I used to be.
It frightened me to know I was under his complete control, that he had power of me. I was nothing more than a doll to be played with, but he claimed I was more than just porcelain. I was his. But it was the same to me, only I could talk. Not that I was ever heard, I was just something pretty to look at. Something that caught an eye and intrigued.
I could move but that unfortunately didn't go unnoticed. I felt his eyes on my every movement. I was never to be out of his sight unless it was to have a human moment or when he did. Not that I considered him to be human. He was inhuman, a monster but not in the literal sense. He didn't have any humanity to be considered a human. Everything he touched crumbled to dust, he could only destroy.
"You are tense, Isabella. Why, must I ask?" He now sat behind me on the bed we would both lay in at night. His breath was so close to my ear and his hush words echoed in my head, replaying over and over. I didn't speak, instead closed the book slowly. It would have to wait, I wouldn't be able to read it with him in the same room. It was too much of a challenge, I could only sit to cower at his hands.
His long fingers dug into my shoulder blades, kneading the brawn of my muscles. "Isabella?" My eyes had closed and they fluttered open slightly as the pressure in his movements lessoned. I wished for a second they wouldn't, this was the only way he could touch me without harming me. When he was in this kind of mood to give instead of take, I more than appreciated it.
"Yes?" I asked dazedly, turning my head swiftly to meet his eyes. His hands started to move again as he saw the look on my face, serene. I was slowly feeling more and more peaceful as his hands continued. Even his lips coming up on my neck, continuing to my jaw and to my cheek didn't frazzle me. They only added on to what I was feeling, calm. They were as soft as feathers, his kisses.
I hummed in the back of my throat, angling my head so it could rest on his cheek. I didn't care to be modest at this point, I would try to enjoy this side of Edward while I had the chance. Who only knew how long this would last? His air-brushed kisses became open mouth, his hands squeezed and pulled apart my back. Nothing could describe this feeling, the best amount of pleasure and pain.
But as suddenly as I was pulled into euphoria, I was taken out. I didn't mean to freeze up, or even open my eyes, but it happened. And he sensed it. He knew me so well that he didn't have to think. I could never hide anything from, he was my maker. He knew what made me tick and what could break me. He was so much apart of me, it was almost as if we were the same person, only in different bodies.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his arms moving away from my shoulders instead to wrap tightly around my stomach. His forearms were right beneath my bust, my breasts slightly resting on top of them. I felt heated, I wanted to inhale a deep breath, but I couldn't. I couldn't breathe, my lungs felt like they couldn't function. In this moment, I couldn't believe what I was feeling, I could do nothing but want him. I wanted to be comforted by him, hear his voice.
I hated myself for having to stoop so low, to feel ambivalent with my feelings. I had been with him for so long having no one else, it had driven me to the point of insanity.
I was allowed no human interaction. I couldn't talk to anybody, look at anybody without it having set him off. He was always angry when we were around people. He tried to take me places, but we always ended up coming home early. With me, up in his arms, hiding my teary eyed face in his shoulder. I could play with no one but him at the playground.
I'd rather have not played at all, it felt wrong to try to be normal once more. After you changed, you couldn't change back. I wasn't apart of that world, why try to camouflage to fit in? But he had to have his way, he wanted to see me smile. He hadn't since he had stolen me, being at the playground brought back too many memories. Of my parents, of Forks and of the day he had taken me.
The outing had been bittersweet, I was torn between familiarity and unknown territory. What would happen if I tried to run away? Would he chase me? If he did, would he catch me? I was too much of a coward to try and see. I couldn't afford looking at his eyes, and knowing he couldn't trust me. If he didn't trust me, I didn't have a chance.
But the thing I remember most about how we went out was the first day. It had been snowing, not too heavily, but the concrete had been sprinkled with flakes. All I could see was white, a winter wonderland. I hadn't known how much time had passed since I had been with Edward, but it seemed to have gone fast if it was near December.
I didn't remember what the month was that I had woken in the car, in fact I still didn't know where we were. He hadn't told me yet, and I hadn't asked. It seemed pointless, but when I had seen a big tree decorated with various ornaments, I knew Christmas was coming. I had gotten excited, but then sad. What would my parents being doing without me this year? Did they miss me?
I had taken it to stare at my shoes the majority of the time through the outing, feeling lonesome. But I wasn't alone, he was holding my gloved hand. His grip was tight, but firm. I was too tired to care, I let him known I wasn't going to run. I squeezed his hand for a fraction of a minute and he got the point. He tried to get me to look around, and when I did I saw other children.
They were all dressed for the weather. Some laughing, others throwing snow balls. Others with their parents, some even so small they were being held. I felt worse, I wanted to cry. I hung my head and stopped walking. He stopped with me and I could feel him stroking my soft chestnut curls with his fingers, running his hands through my hair.
I suddenly started sobbing into his stomach, pressing my wet face against his coat. "Shh, Bella." The next thing that happened was that he scoped me up into his arms. He coddled me, right then and there. He nuzzled my small neck and started to hum, rocking back and forth. He had sat on a bench, trying to get me to hush. But I couldn't. I let him hold me, let him try to make me feel better.
But nothing was working, I would never be the same. Not even as much as I tried. I would be this way for the rest of my life. "Daddy's here, baby." His kissed my head gently, reaching with one of his hands to cradle the back of it. He wasn't mad at me. I wasn't mad at him. I was just lost, I felt as if I would never be found. I would forever remain in my rabbit hole. Only this wasn't a dream. I wouldn't wake up.
"Bella, tell me what's wrong. You've been like this all afternoon." He tongue was like a lash of a whip, his words stung. The way he said them made me regret being so silent, being so fragile. I was no match to him, never be as strong as he was. I was nothing in comparison of what he could do to me, what he could make me feel. The worst of pains, I was a mere burden to take care of.
I didn't answer him, I didn't even notice him as I tried to keep my head up. Steady, I tried to stay strong inside. I was about to explode from such emotion, I couldn't possibly contain myself. But it didn't matter of what I could and could not do, all that mattered was him. What he thought, what he said, what he did. I was automatically trained, a machine. I wasn't anything to be called a person, I wasn't significant.
I was nothing, he had made me a nothing. I was invisible in the words I spoke, the things I thought. I didn't see a girl in the mirror, I saw an image of one. I wasn't real, you couldn't touch me. Feel me. I simply am not there, I didn't exist. There wasn't a me.
"I'm not feeling well," I barely managed to tell him, my voice was hoarse. It had broken in mid-sentence and I started to sob. My epiphany didn't do nothing to help, it was what had caused this sudden outburst. I was so stricken with my realization, my hands had flew to my face to stop my sobs. I couldn't silence myself, my own cries echoed in my ears. I felt like crawling up in ball, only to swivel up and die.
Was there a point to why I existed? I didn't know who I was or what I liked. What made me cry and what made me laugh. Had I ever smiled? Had I ever lived life? No.
I was him.
I didn't go to school the way children normally did. I was home schooled, he was my teacher. He was quite intelligent, trying to make me absorb energy like a sponge. I soaked up what I could, but normally I studied the mystery of him. I hadn't know much of him for a long time, but he would bombard me with questions all the time. Not about my past life, they all revolved around him.
How I felt about him, what did I see when I looked at him. Did I like him, was he a good daddy? Did I love him? I couldn't answer that question at first, I had frozen when I had heard the word love. Before him, I had only heard that word from my parents. They were the only ones I had ever, and would ever love. I knew nothing else of love, but I knew what it was. I felt it when I saw my mother's ageless face behind my eyelids. But I didn't see him.
He had waited patiently for an answer, my hands in his. He had just told me he loved me, expressing it with a chaste kiss on the cheek, I was afraid to even open my mouth. I didn't want to lie, especially to him, he could see through every one of them. I couldn't lie about something like that, a big fat lie. It was small and it wasn't white. If I had told him I loved him, it would be ugly and black. A blasphemously violation of soul.
I didn't say anything back to him for a very long time. I only looked at him, my eyes never once leaving his. It was more than hard to look away from him, when I finally looked down at my hands. The only thing you could hear after that was everlasting silence, it screamed louder than any human could. It felt made me feel more uneasy than I already was, I should have just said something instead of leaving it alone.
He ended up gripping my small hands, his fingers almost crushing me. I quickly looked at him, shocked, with my mouth agape. The look on his face was murderous, I felt he was going to do more than just glare. He was struggling to keep composure but I knew he was angry. More than angry, furious even. The fire in his eyes made me want to run, I felt like the flames were going to eat me alive.
But he didn't hit me, or even yell, instead he did something far worse in my opinion. He spoke in the most deadly tone I had ever heard, it wasn't loud or at a normal volume. It was an incredibly steady choice of quiet words. If it wasn't so silent, I wasn't so sure I would have heard him speak.
I watched as his lips, pink and softly looking, whispered. "You don't love me, Bella? You don't care for me? Even after everything I have done for you? After everything I have given you? Did it all mean nothing, does me loving you mean nothing?" He didn't wait or stop for me to speak. "Is daddy mean to you? Does he call you names or hit you?"
I shook my head feeling smaller and smaller with every breath. I instantly felt worse than I had in the first place. "Doesn't daddy love you?" I should have just lied to him, made him smile. It wasn't that mean of a thing to do, lies make people happy. They didn't know they were lies the were hearing, what damage could they do?
"Yes," my voice came out very broken and I realized my lips were starting to shake. I always ended up crying in these situations, it was unavoidable it seemed. I couldn't handle conflict, it wasn't my best suit. It seemed to try to take a hit at me every time it was in the room. I feared being vulnerable, but there was no other word to describe what I was.
I was molding clay, I needed to be sculpted to form something. In this stage I was mushy and I was putty in his hands. I fell for everything he said, I jumped into his trap, not fully knowing what the consequences would be. I didn't think before I acted, that was the most problematic quality I had.
"Don't you love daddy?" he asked, coming closer. I didn't move, I stayed exactly where I was. I didn't hesitate before I spoke this time. "Y-yes."
"Tell daddy you love him." He reached over and held his hand to my face. My cheek felt oddly warm against his palm. I felt like I was burning.
"I love you, daddy."
Soft as summer days, he left me to lay alone on the bed. I was curled up comfortably on my side when I heard his slightly loud footsteps. Streaks of tears were sill falling down my face and I was happy enough that I wasn't facing him. I wasn't so sure I would be able to handle it just right now. I was still too freshly wounded from before. I was my own enemy, I made myself feel worse than he ever could.
I felt the bed dip as he came behind me, his face deeply buried into my hair. He sighed, while bringing his arms fully around me. They were crossed around my shoulders, his thumbs stroking the sides of my arms. I reached up with a hand to put it over his. It meant to say I was feeling better, we didn't need words to communicate, a simple gesture spoke louder than words.
I was in a restless daze, staring at nothing in particular. Where my tears had been, the air felt cool against. My skin was numb, my eyes so sore I wanted to close them, but I didn't. I hadn't cried ever since I had first come here, I didn't understand it. I thought I wouldn't ever again, but life works in mysterious ways. I hadn't felt like this for so long, now it seemed to all be pouring out.
"Shh," he told me, his hot breath setting my skin on fire. My ragged breathing didn't stop, the sobs that rocked through me didn't subside. I was in disbelieve as I heard myself. As my body shook, the cool moisture of his tears dripped into the curled mane of my hair. I wasn't the only one suffering, but I had the bulk of the pain. But it hurt, evermore so, to know he was too. It wasn't rational but I felt for the creature who had made me this way. The one who showed me feeling like this even existed.
"It's okay," Edward whispered, into the crook of my neck.
I almost couldn't listen to him speak, the murmur of his words too tortured to belong to a monster. I wasn't meant for something like this, but I let it all happen anyway. He chased, I didn't run. He caught me, I didn't struggle. He forced me, I didn't stop him. Everything was as much my fault as it was his.
I lay there in his arms forever, his prisoner.