Disclaimer: Twilight ain't mine. Can you tell?
The Unscrupulous Council
AN: In 2007 LaylaLove-CC had a story with arrhenphobia. .net/s/3919260/1/Arrhenphobia It gave me an idea for Bella's character.
Officer Stanley and Detective Wright watched the girl through the one way window. She had long brown hair and eyes with a faded tan. She was slight and given her age, it would seem puberty was delayed. It appeared that she was malnourished. She gazed blankly straight ahead. Wright pondered whether she was paralyzed by fear or if she was crazy. Stanley was dying to cram massive amounts of greasy, high calorie food down her throat. He had memories of a childhood where he went hungry often and it was something that still haunted him. He hated to see a hungry child. She glanced at the window as though she could see straight through it and began to chew on her lower lip. She probably didn't belong in this room for questioning, no one suspected her of foul play. The body was very likely a suicide. It was just that her response had shaken everyone up. Why had she done that? They were eager to find out how long the woman had been dead for. They wanted answers but the more they learned, the more questions they had. It was getting to the point where Wright wanted to hand her over to someone else. Stanley however was more interested in taking her home and fattening her up.
"Why no men?" Stanley asked.
"She appears to have arrhenophobia. An extreme fear of men. Most likely the result of a traumatic experience but it's possible that it could come from other causes. She spent all her time with her mother on the run. Lack of exposure to men along with her homeless mother trying to make sure they're not raped or attacked by men could have given her the impression that all men are dangerous. It would help if she would talk."
Eleven years on the run with her mother, we don't have any information since she was four years old. No one I've spoken to has heard her utter one word since she was picked up." Dr. Rothe explained. He tried not to dehumanize his patients, but she really was a gift wrapped problem to solve. There was so much to learn. She was a problem that Dr. Rothe wanted to solve. The police that he stood beside had two important questions. Who was she and where was she from? They were well on their way to answering their questions and soon she would be off their hands. But Rothe had two different questions. Why was she behaving like this and how did this reaction come about?
Dr. Rothe watched as a child psychiatrist entered the room with the fifteen year old. He observed her thread bear hooded sweater, faded bell bottom jeans that just weren't fitting current styles and panda bear t-shirt. It looked like she'd fished the mismatched clothes from a homeless shelter. She was picked up in northwest Arizona in the middle of winter in a car without heat. She wasn't dressed for the temperatures at these elevations at this time of year. The lingering question was how her mother fed and kept them for eleven years. It wouldn't appear that the mother worked in the sex industry. To waitress you would need to stick around a town, but they didn't appear to settle they could be wrong. Why was she running? In court documents, the mother never suggested that she had anything to fear from her ex-husband. She seemed happy with arrangements to leave her daughter with her father during the summers. Divorce proceedings had run so smoothly. Out of nowhere, she had runaway. She didn't even contact her daughters grandparents in California.
After more than a decade of police looking for Renee Carter and Isabella Swan, the police were called to a highway after civilians had spotted a young girl driving alone. They found fifteen year old Isabella Swan driving a car with her mother's corpse riding in the backseat. Renee's wrists were slashed and bled out at another location. Isabella seemed to have relocated her mother's remains into the backseat. The first officers on the scene had been a man and woman team. The child had been calm and obedient showing an immediate preference for the woman even if she wouldn't talk. It wasn't until recently when she had been alone with men that she had snapped throwing chairs and screaming at the men. She reacted like a small cornered animal. But still, she hadn't used any words. She was calm while there was a woman still present when there were men in the room.
Listening in the room, the child psychiatrist didn't appear to be making headway either. Her father was the Chief of Police in a town called Forks in the state of Washington. Charles Swan or Charlie over the phone. He was eager to have his daughter home with him but understood the recent developments. It helped that the father was in law enforcement and quickly understood the situation. Charlie was arranging a place for his daughter to stay that would have only women for the time being. Dr. Rothe was disappointed that she would be leaving for Washington soon and he wouldn't have the opportunity to follow her developments and unravel her case. He was sorely tempted to pick up and follow the girl to Washington only his wife wouldn't approve. He'd try to stay in contact with Charlie to find out how Miss Swan was doing.
"Thirty hours." Officer Jenks spoke as he opened the door behind them. "The mother had been dead for thirty hours when they picked the girl up. I wonder how long she would have driven around like that if no one had noticed. Did you know the girl was driving a stick? For a kid too young for a driver's licence that's not bad." He was sloppily talking around the large sub sandwich he was eating wrapped in deli paper.
"My eighteen year old daughter won't even try to drive the mustang because it's stick." Commented Detective Wright sourly. They spoke little. They were mostly observing the curious creature sitting in the next room, silently watching the child psychiatrist trying to get inside her head. Wright shuddered to think what this girl had lived through over her years of living on the run resulting in her fear of men. What could have possessed her mother to raise her kid like this? From her choice of lifestyle and eventually her suicide, she wasn't an emotionally healthy person. Presented with her mother's body, Bella hadn't called for help. She had continued to run with her mother's remains in the silver 1987 Dodge Charger that looked like it had been kept together by shoe strings. It was then that he noticed her hands. Calloused and grease stained. There was the little mechanic. He shouldn't be surprised it wasn't like they had the money to take it to a mechanic and who would they trust? He wondered at what age she had started fixing that beat up old subcompact car. It certainly was designed to be lived out of. They disappeared in an Intrepid and it had popped up on the radar according to files multiple times until it was found as a recent purchase by a young man in Oregon five years ago. She had sold it with stolen licence plates still in the trunk.
Dr Rothe saw the time and shrugged his shoulders and then stretched and yawned. "Time I headed out. The wife will be giving me an earful as it is." They acknowledged him leaving and continued to watch their subject quietly.