Hey Everyone! This is my first attempt at writing Fanfic. I have been reading lots of stories and decided I would try my hand at it. Please let me know what you think. Also, I don't have a beta, and if anyone is interested, please let me know. Enjoy!
All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
"Mom," I whispered as a crawled along the floor. "Are you okay?"
"Edward, baby you need to get back to your room."
"No." I had reached her now and could see the blood dripping down her face. I saw the long cut on her forehead. I took the towel I carried in my small hands and began to press it to the cut.
"I'm fine, please honey, get back to your room."
I shook my head again. I knew that if he came home and found me kneeling next to my mother there would be hell to pay. But I couldn't leave her, not when she was hurt and bleeding. I may only be ten years old, but I would protect my mom. "Can you sit up," I asked, again at a whisper. I helped her to a sitting position and examined her for more injuries. She seemed okay, but I had to make sure.
From my room I had heard the crack as she had slammed into the table. My hands had fisted and I had longed to run out and help her. But I had learned from experience that running out of my room would only make things worse. I was too small to help my mom, now.
She stood up now, weaving a bit as she stood erect. I hurried to her side and pressed against her, helping her stay upright. Her hand rested on my shoulder and she sighed. "I need to clean up."
I surveyed the room and nodded. He did not like to see the mess that he left. Quietly, I helped my mom pick up the chairs that had knocked over, the pillows that had been thrown around the room, lamp that had fallen over. We were almost done when the front door opened. Immediately, I threw my little body in front of my mom. I would protect her. "Edward," she gasped and I felt her hands on my shoulders, trying to move me out of the way. I fought her, determined to stand up for her.
I glared up at him, this man who hurt my mother so much.
"You are supposed to be in your room," he sneered, looming over me.
I swallowed hard but would not let myself be afraid. "You won't hurt her anymore tonight." I said this with all the power and strength I could muster.
He laughed, then his hand snapped out and back handed me across the face. I tasted my own blood in my mouth and it turned my stomach. But I straightened and refused to move.
"So you are a big man now, huh?" He laughed again and the sound hurt my ears. But I didn't move anything except my head, nodding up and down. He looked at my mother. "So, it appears you have a protector." He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away from my mother. He looked down at me, a question in his eyes. I slowly nodded, reminding myself that it was for my mother. If he hurt me, it was not my mother that would feel the pain. He turned, pulling me farther away and toward the closet, were he kept it. I closed my eyes, knowing what was going to happen and my heart tripped as fear began to pulse through me.
"No!" my mother gasped, realizing what had happened, what was going to happen.
"Mom," I said as bravely as I could. "Go to your room, I will be fine." I turned to her and tried to convince her with my eyes. I sense that she was giving up and I nodded. "Go," I whispered. "I'm fine." Indecision ran through her eyes as she looked from me, to the hand gripping my shoulder, to her husband.
"Edward…" she whispered again.
"Go!" I said again, firmly. I was doing this for her. He would not hurt her again tonight. She stared at me and must have seen something in my eyes, because she turned and was gone.
Now, I looked back up at my stepfather. He was smiling, but it was not an encouraging smile. "So the boy has become a man."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He yanked me closer to the closet, opening the door and grabbing his weapon of choice. He pushed me against the chair and I held onto the back of it to keep from falling as the belt began to fall. I bit my lip and closed my eyes to keep from crying out. I focused all my thoughts on my mother and on the fact that she was not feeling this, that she was safe. That I had finally done it. I, Edward Anthony Masen, had protected my mother. That for tonight, she was not on the receiving end of this. I was not huddled in my room, crying, wishing there was something I could do.
And despite the pain raging over my back, I smiled.