Entry for "A Love Like Fire 2011"

Title: White Lies

Author: eddiebell69

Beta: maxandmo

Pairing: Bella and Edward

Rating: M

Prompt: Rihanna feat Eminem - Love The Way You Lie Part 2

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all its characters; I just put them in twisted and fucked up situations. Rated M for language, lemons and dark themes, read at your own discretion.

a/n: A big, huge thank you goes out to my beta, maxandmo. This story would definitely not be here without her.


Isabella looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. Her reflection was a pathetic sight to behold.

Her eyes were tired and cold. Her face was delicate, yet worn out, and the hair that framed her frail face was as dark as a raven's, contrasting her features and making her look older.

She sighed and looked down to her hands. She did not want to see her reflection. She did not want to be in that bathroom; in that specific hotel room.

But she had no choice. She had to be there. She had lost the choice to leave when she became an orphan and fell into the trap of a vicious man's hands. Isabella was a prisoner in the wretched world of prostitution; for almost six years she had to please customers in order to survive.

Life, she thought sarcastically, I don't know if you can call this life.

She looked back up again and began applying her make-up, determined to follow through with her day's schedule. She delineated her eyes with a thick, black eye-liner and applied heavy mascara to her lashes. She didn't bother with lipstick or lip gloss, not because she never kissed a client on the lips, but because she didn't want to leave any trace of herself on them.

She unwrapped the towel that covered her body and dried her hair with it. Next, she put on her miniscule undergarments, even though she knew that they would stay on for only about five minutes. Lastly, she slipped on her black mini-dress and matching strappy heels.

"I can do this. I need to do this," she repeated in a mantra as she walked out to the bedroom and waited for her next client.

Isabella looked at the clock and noticed it was eleven-forty-five a.m. Phil, the man she worked for, had said that her new client would arrive at noon, meaning she had fifteen minutes to herself until he showed up.

She closed her eyes and reminisced about how her life was when she was a child, when she didn't have to worry about being homeless, or about being hungry, but especially about being afraid. She saw her mother's face light up as she rode down the street on her new bicycle, along with her father, who proudly cheered her on from the sidelines. It was the first time that he'd let go of her seat, so this was a special occasion. The hot Arizona sun warmed her face, as she reached the corner and turned to go back to her parents, laughing carelessly without a worry in the world.

Little Isabella Swan was a beloved child. Her mother dressed her up in pretty, frilly things, and her father bought her everything that her heart desired. She wished she could be with them. She wished she could have them back, but she couldn't, and it hurt.

Before the pain in her chest could expand, she exhaled deeply and opened her eyes. She took in her surroundings which brought her back to reality, to her reality.

The room wasn't too fancy, but it wasn't cheap-looking either. The hotel she was at was supposed to be part of a branch of legal brothels in Nevada, yet it wasn't. Phil didn't do anything legal. He only kept up appearances so he could run his drug business under the table. It was a surprise that it had a good reputation considering that a large part of their clientele weren't business men. Most of the girls that worked for him brought in customers from bars and casinos that they would meet there, hooking them up with drugs they consumed themselves.

The label of hooker was a good one for them, yet Isabella wasn't the same.

She had never been wrapped up in the world of drugs, and her only addiction was strong coffee in the morning along with cigarettes. She'd never had to work in the streets since Phil considered her one of his 'best girls'. Many of the regular clients requested her, making the job a bit endurable, though it didn't make it any easier.

Some days she'd look at it as any other job, thinking and saying that she could have it worse which helped her throughout the day.

Today was not one of those days.

Today was one of the days where she wished she were far away from this world and its entire perverseness. Where the memories of a better world would creep in and she'd desire to be a part of it again. She would imagine how her life would be if she could have it all back, and she could be truly happy. She'd recall the times she watched Pretty Woman with her best friend, Jessica, and of how hard they giggled every time Richard Gere kissed Julia Roberts. She remembered how she'd seen Julia on the screen and thought that being a prostitute wasn't such a bad thing.

Oh, how innocent little Isabella had been.

She didn't know that things in the movies are made to look better than they are, or than they seem.

The knock at the door brought her back to reality.

She had to work and endure the new customer, whom she was sure she'd be seeing frequently from this point on. She walked to the door and greeted him politely, asking him to come in. He looked at her appreciatively and grinned as he stepped inside; he was a generic looking man with sandy blond hair and crystal blue eyes. He was just a bit taller than Isabella and was slightly built.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked him, as she walked to the wet bar.

"Um, is that at an additional charge?" he asked nervously. "I only brought enough for the hour and maybe for a little something extra."

Isabella chuckled lightly as she looked at him over her shoulder. "It's included in your hour, you know? Just in case you need to get in the mood… or if your little friend can't make an appearance today."

The man blanched and swallowed loudly. "Has that happened before? The not being able to get hard part?"

"Countless times," she smirked. "You'd be surprised how many men have to get help from a little blue pill, which is available for an additional charge, yet you wouldn't be able to buy it since you say you don't have more than enough. Not to put any pressure on you, but you'd be fucked without getting fucked."

"I'll take that drink now," he said anxiously. "It will definitely help get me in the mood."

"Okay," Isabella simply replied. She poured him a glass of whiskey over some ice and a cherry, and then handed it to him. "Let's take a seat, it'll help you relax and take the pressure off of you." She walked to the suite's living room and sat on the couch facing him. She crossed her legs suggestively, exposing her panties to him, while he looked at her and smiled.

"Aren't you going to have a drink with me?" he asked.

"Haven't you ever heard that you're not supposed to drink on the job?" she inquired, playful. "That rule still applies here."

"Really? I didn't think you had rules here. I mean, you're a…" he trailed off.

"A prostitute," Isabella finished for him. "I know you're thinking it. Just say it. Say it out loud."

He looked at her apologetically and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

Isabella shrugged and shook her head. "I'm not offended at all. This is my job and I'm used to it. But let's not get into that," she said, flashing him a smile in an attempt to get back on track since their meeting had gotten off on a bad start. Maybe he wouldn't be a recurring client after all.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, taking a sip from his drink.

"How about we start with you giving me your name? I feel weird not knowing what to call you."

"My name's Mike. What's yours?"

"What's your favorite name? Whichever name that is, that's what you can call me," she replied cockily.

He blushed and looked at his hands. "Okay, Jess, now that we know each other's names, what else would you like to talk about?"

She licked her lips and looked up at him from underneath her lashes. "Let's talk about you; what do you like in bed?" Isabella asked, working her magic. "What would you like me to do to you?"

Mike swallowed loudly once again and fidgeted nervously. "I was actually wondering what would be okay for me to do. This is the first time I've done this, and I have no clue how things work," he admitted.

"Well, I don't know about other girls, but I'll tell you how I work. Is that all right, sweetheart?"

"Yes," he replied. "That'd be great."

"First of all, I don't kiss on the lips. You can kiss me on the neck, on my back, on my legs, etcetera, but never on the lips-"

"Like in Pretty Woman?" he asked, cutting her off. "Vivian said that it was too personal, is that the reason you don't kiss on the lips?"

Isabella glowered slightly. She didn't want to discuss her reasons for not kissing. That would be too personal, so she asked instead, "You've watched Pretty Woman?" This was obviously a rhetorical question since he knew the name of Julia Robert's character.

"Yes, countless times at home," he answered timidly.

Shit, Isabella thought. She knew she needed to change the direction of the conversation. Mike surely wouldn't want to be thinking about his situation at home, if anything he was probably trying to evade those thoughts. "Well, enough about that movie, let's continue discussing the details of our encounter, shall we?"

He agreed and listened intently as she explained to him what was included in the price and what he'd need to pay extra for. Mike didn't hesitate to pay her in advance for a blow job, yet he didn't seem to get comfortable enough to get things into action. Isabella knew that he wouldn't be an easy client, this being his time. His apparent lack of skills was obvious as far as she could tell, so she did things differently.

She took the glass from his hand and took a sip from it, looking at him, waiting for his reaction. He seemed to relax gently, so she kept going with her plan. She picked out the cherry and placed it in her mouth; after she ate it, she twisted the stem with her tongue and gave it to him. "It's good to break the rules sometimes, don't you think?"

A large smirk was plastered on his face as he answered, "Yeah, it really is."

"The best part about breaking the rules is that there is always a consequence as a result, you know? Like me drinking that whiskey definitely deserves a punishment, don't you think?" she asked, in a sultry voice. Mike's eyes lit up at this, giving Isabella the perfect opportunity to get him to loosen up. "How would you punish me, Mike?"

"Wow… um, I," he stuttered, taken aback a bit. "I'd… bend you over the couch, and then I'd spank you."

Isabella smirked, pleased with herself, yet she wasn't amused with his answer. That was the most common reply that she got from men, making it very unoriginal. She reached over and leaned into him, running her hand up his thigh, and whispered in his ear, "I think I like that punishment, in fact, I think it's perfect, so why don't you go ahead and punish me?"

This caused Mike to shiver and stand up immediately. He took Isabella by the hand and guided her to the edge of the couch, bending her over the armrest. Isabella spread her legs wider to get a better stance and closed her eyes, waiting for his next move. He slipped his hand under her dress and pushed it up, exposing her bottom, giving him the visual he needed to get fully aroused. He groaned as he took in her black thong, and without further notice struck her with his right hand. Isabella moaned instinctively and begged him for more; playing along with the game she always had to participate in.

After a few more spanks, Mike was shaking with the need and urge to take her from behind. As he unbuckled his pants, she turned around and pushed him back gently. Mike looked at her incredulously; he couldn't fathom that she had dared to do that, to him.

"What's your favorite color?" Isabella asked quickly, afraid that he'd do something to harm her.

"Black, why?" he questioned, raising a brow at her.

"Give me a second, Mike. I'll show you why," she said, as she made her way across the room. When she reached the drawer chest in the back, she took out a crystal bowl that was full of condoms ranging in color. She picked out a black one and walked back, kneeling in front of him. He looked down at her, as she unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers, releasing his erection.

Isabella noticed that he was already leaking, therefore he wouldn't last long once she put her mouth on him. She wanted to sigh in relief. She tore the wrapper and slid the condom along his length with her teeth with apt precision, making him moan and beg for more. She looked up at him as she began sucking and moaning around him, trying to figure out what he'd like for her to do.

Mike's a pretty boring man, she mused, he's probably never fucked anyone's mouth.

So that's what she asked him to do, and he easily complied. Five minutes later Mike was grunting and shaking as he released into the condom,his hands threaded in her hair.

After that things moved pretty quickly; Mike and Isabella undressed each other and lay on the bed. He caressed and kissed her skin, in an almost reverent manner, making her a little uncomfortable. It wasn't the first time someone touched her this way, so it didn't surprise her, but it anguished her as it always did. This would be the moment when she tried to block her thoughts and focus on the person she was with, yet she kept thinking about another man.

Her mind betrayed her as she gazed at Mike, because instead of seeing blue eyes, she saw green eyes looking intently back at her. She closed her eyes and moaned Mike's name, hoping that by doing so she'd be brought back to that moment, but it didn't work.

The other man was embedded in her memory forever.

She breathed out and began kissing Mike along his jaw, threading her hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, fingering the contrast between the feel of his hair the one she longed to touch. She was losing herself in the moment of a previous encounter, and it was becoming too painful.

Mike brought her out of her reverie, though, as he began whispering against her skin, telling her to get on her hands and knees. Once she did as he asked, he moved his hands to her sex, feeling the arousal that was already gathered there. He was probably reeling at the fact that he had done that, that he had caused that reaction in her, but little did he know that the memory of another man had made Isabella's body respond that way.

She handed him another black condom and waited patiently for him to put it on, mentally chastising herself for getting carried away in her mind. Once he was ready, he thrust into her forcefully, making her yelp in surprise. This encouraged Mike, so he continued pounding into her, groping her hips, grunting. Isabella snaked a hand to her sex and began circling her clit to bring herself to orgasm quickly, since she knew she wouldn't achieve it otherwise.

In a few minutes, just as she was arching her back into him, moaning his name, Mike stilled his movements and came, swearing loudly. He slid out of her without saying anything, and then sat on the bed as Isabella watched him.

"Can I take a shower here?" he asked. "I'd go to my hotel, but I have to go to a meeting right after this, and I really don't want to smell like sex."

She nodded, "Yeah, that's fine."

"Okay, thanks," he said, as he stood from the bed. He gathered his things in an awkward silence and made his way to the bathroom.

Isabella remained laying on the bed thinking about how bad she must have performed, because Mike hadn't said anything about what they had just done. She had been so absent during the act, not paying attention to him like she should have. Maybe if she had paid more attention, she could have made him climax once more. She hadn't given him his hour's worth and she knew this. If Phil were to find out he'd surely give her a piece of his mind.

She sighed as she realized that there was nothing she could do now. She could only hope that Mike never came back, and that he didn't tell other potential customers what a lousy lay she was.

She stood from the bed and put on a silk robe, not bothering to get dressed since she'd have to shower as soon as Mike left. She went to the wet bar and poured some water in a glass full of ice, drinking it to soothe down her nerves, and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom.

Five minutes later she was sitting on the couch when he finally stepped into the room. He was still silent, and the tension was killing her. She looked at him and frowned. She needed to say something, so she did. "I'm sorry about what happened, if I made you uncomfortable. I should have-"

He cut her off abruptly, "You don't need to apologize for anything, sweetheart. I'm uncomfortable because I couldn't last more than five minutes."

"Oh… well, you don't need to worry about that," Isabella said, flailing her hands a bit.

"Why did you think I was uncomfortable? Did you think that you did a bad job?"

She nodded as she picked on her nails with her teeth. "Yeah, actually, I did."

He moved to stand in front of the couch and leaned down, gazing at her. "That's the best sex I've had in years; it was worth every penny."

"Thanks," she said, contrite.

"No, thank you." He stood upright and walked to the door. "I've got to get going, or I'm going to be late, but I'll be back sometime soon."

"I'll be here," she grumbled. She saw him reach the door and turn the handle, when suddenly something came back to her. She didn't know whether to do it or not, but curiosity got the best of her, and she asked the one question she never did. "Mike, who's Jess?"

Mike looked back at her and sighed. "She's my wife, but we stopped having sex since I found out that she was cheating on me. I hadn't been able to get an erection since that day, and I thought that it was my problem. I guess it's just can't perform with her." He walked out the door and didn't look back, leaving Isabella to take in the bit of information that he'd left behind.


She went to the bathroom to shower and get ready for her next customer. As she stood under the warm spray of the water she thought about what Mike had said; about watching Pretty Woman at home and his wife's name being Jessica.

Maybe she's the same Jess that I grew up with, she considered.

"No, it can't be," she said, shaking her head, trying to convince herself that there were probably many Jessica's in the world who liked that same movie as her childhood friend. Her best friend probably wouldn't cheat on Mike if he were her husband, at least she hoped not. She deserved someone who wouldn't have to pay a stranger to give them what they didn't get at home.

Isabella would never have someone that loved her, which would marry her, and give her a happy ending.

No, she'd always be alone in this miserable world. She'd lost the one person that loved her to it, and she wouldn't get him back. She wept quietly as she washed her body, trying to remove all traces of what she'd done just minutes ago, and what she'd endure many more times throughout the day. She tried to concentrate on other things, not wanting to be in a brooding mood all day, and got out of the shower to get ready for the next client.

She thought about music, movies and books while she reapplied her make-up and got dressed. She began planning which CDs she would buy the next time she went to the music store at the mall and which new movies she'd rent on her day off. She continued listing things she needed as she lay on the bed and waited again.

The wait seemed to drag on until her client called to cancel, giving her more time to list items, but after a while she ran short of them. Isabella found herself uneasy and decided to have a smoke to relax.

She lit up a cigarette, attempting to control her nervousness and her bouncing leg that rocked the bed. She fidgeted even more as she began smoking, biting her nails and running her hand through her hair. She sighed exasperatedly and walked to the window.

When she looked outside, she smiled at the bright sun that illuminated the sky completely. Her smile turned rueful as she remembered the times she hadn't done it alone, because those times also reminded her of him.

It was inevitable, because whatever she did, he'd always be there, whether in the back of her mind, or tugging at her heart with pain.

He had possessed her mind and body, and he'd also taken her soul.

Isabella shut her eyes trying to suppress the images from coming forth in her mind, yet she was unsuccessful. A shuddering sob erupted from her chest as the pain that consumed her was unleashed, taking her back to the day she met him in that same brothel…


It was a late Wednesday afternoon, the day had been slow and she was just waiting around to see if anyone else would show up. Just as she was about to get ready to leave, there was a knock at the door. She walked to and opened it, finding a very strange man there. He wasn't like the rest of the men that visited her, so she was almost certain that he had the wrong room.

"Can I help you with something?" she inquired.

The man shifted his weight nervously, never looking up at her. "Yeah, um, the lady at the desk told me to come to this room, that you would help me here."

"Help you? As in help you with my services?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, something like that," he mumbled.

She looked at him again and then sighed, "Yeah, well, come in I guess."

He finally looked up at her, taking her breath away, and entrancing her as she took him in. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of green she'd ever seen, and his hair was the color of fiery copper, which contrasted his features immensely. His expression looked troubled, and though she couldn't imagine what would cause him to feel that way, she wanted to make it better.

A very uncharacteristic need to protect and take care of him overcame her. This disturbed Isabella greatly, because she'd never felt that way before. She knew that this encounter would lead to nothing good, yet she couldn't find it in her heart to turn him down.

She tore her gaze from him and stepped to the side, allowing him to walk into the room. She observed him carefully as he went directly to the couch and took a seat. After she closed the door and made her way to him, she waited for him to say or do something, but he stayed silent and unmoving. She sat next to him and asked, "What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

He shook his head and cracked his knuckles. "No, I'm just really nervous, that's all," he acknowledged.

Isabella could completely understand that, many of the men that required her services were generally nervous. "It's okay to be nervous, especially if it's the first time you're doing something like this. It's completely normal."

"Is that what you're really thinking? Are you just saying that to appease me, or is that something that you tell everybody?" he asked, defensively.

"Both actually, but I do mean it when I tell you that, yet I also say that to other men who come here. I have to ask you something, though; do you know what it is I do?"

He scoffed, seemingly offended. "Yeah, I'm not that stupid," he bickered.

Isabella looked down at her hands nervously. She couldn't comprehend why he reacted that way, or why he'd need her services. He could probably be with any girl he desired, yet he was there, so she decided to find out. "Do you really want to be here, then? With me? You seem really apprehensive," she mused.

"It's just that I don't know what you're thinking, and that really bothers me," he said, while tugging at his hair.

She moved her hands to his, stilling his movements. "Don't do that," she gently chastised.

The man looked at her, interested in her genuine concern over him. "I don't know what to do," he whispered.

"It's okay, I can show you if you want?" she offered.

"It's not that I don't know what to do, it's that I don't know what to do first. There are so many impregnated images in my mind, images that have been there for years, yet I haven't been able to put them into practice because nobody's ever wanted me this way before. They all think I'm a freak," he confessed.

"Why would someone think you're a freak? You don't look like a freak to me," Isabella said, gazing into his eyes.

"That's because you don't know anything," he spat. "You don't know the things that I hear, because I hear 'things', except now, I can't hear what you're thinking, and it bothers me."

"You can hear thoughts? You're like a mind reader?" she whispered.

He nodded and then asked, "Does that scare you?"

"Why would it scare me? I think it's pretty cool that you can do that," she said, smirking. And it was true. Isabella was very intrigued by his revelation, and even though she thought it was an impossible thing to do, she somehow believed that he could do it. "And just so you know, I don't think that you're a freak."

This made the man smile. It seemed that those were the exact words that he needed to hear. He looked at her intently as he cupped her cheek with his gentle hand and caressed the soft skin under his fingers. "Emmett said that you were pretty; he lied," he said. "You're beautiful."

She blushed profusely at his words. No one had ever called her beautiful, with the exception of her parents, and she always believed that they were biased. She didn't want to dwell on that and changed the course of the conversation. "Emmett sent you here? He's the one that told you about me?"

Emmett was one of her regular customers. The reason she remembered him clearly was because he's one of the very few men she serviced who was actually good in bed. Isabella enjoyed his company very much, and though she'd never fully admit to it, they had a slight crush on each other, which resulted in a lustful affair between them.

He nodded again and then smiled, dropping his hand. "Emmett brought me here; he said it was my birthday present."

"It's your birthday today?"

"Yeah, I'm twenty-one, and Emmett said that he didn't want me to be like the forty-year-old virgin in that one movie."

Isabella chuckled. "I don't think you'd stay a virgin until you were that old. Any girl would love to be with you."

"No, they wouldn't. Ever since I've been a kid, girls want nothing to do with me. I've always been the weirdo that rode on the short bus. I'm the weird mind reader, remember?" he asked, pointing at his head. "Doctors have labeled me as mentally troubled, because they can't prove that I can actually hear people's thoughts, therefore I can't get a normal job. Girls don't like guys that work at Goodwill."

"You work at Goodwill?" she asked.

"Um-hmm, Emmett's my boss… he's actually kind of the only friend I've ever had."

"It's really nice of him to look out for you, to bring you here, but I don't think it's necessary," she said, looking down at his hands.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," he said, glowering at her."I know it's your job, but I don't need you to pity me."

Isabella shook her head and said, "I didn't mean it that way. What I actually meant is that you should probably wait to do this some other time, with someone special. It doesn't have to be this way."

"Someone special?" he sighed. "I'll never find someone special for me."

"I don't believe that," Isabella said. "There has to be someone out there for you; someone who would want to share this with you, this special moment."

"Would you?" he asked. "If you met me somewhere else and you didn't have to be paid, would you want to be with me?

Isabella felt slightly offended with his question. She hated that she felt vulnerable with him, and that he was only asking her if she'd be interested in him, but the reminder of who she was, and what she did, made her feel that way. She felt that she could never be good enough for him, and that hurt her, too. "I would," she said, unhesitatingly. "I'd do it without you having to pay me."

He turned in his seat, gazing into her eyes, as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Isabella shivered at his soft touch since no one had ever been that delicate with her before. She unconsciously leaned into him, pressing her lips to his. A soft moan escaped her throat as sparks of electricity ran through her body. She threaded her hands in his hair, leaning forward, needing to kiss him deeper.

He opened his lips, inviting her in, so she slid her tongue and tangled it with his. They kissed softly, teasing, as they closed their eyes and lost themselves in the moment. She soon began to need more, kissing him urgently, with an unknown passion. He melted into her kiss, holding her close to him, running his hands along her body.

In an instant, Isabella was straddling his lap, pulling his jacket off him and removing his shirt. Her hands roamed his chest while she continued to kiss him frantically. He pulled her dress over her head and unclasped her bra, never wasting time. He kissed, licked and sucked her nipples as she arched into him, moaning.

"Take me to the bed, please" she begged him.

He complied easily, standing up from the couch and lifting her, her legs wrapped around his waist. As soon as they reached the bed, they continued undressing quickly. Isabella pulled him to her as she climbed on it, searching for his lips once more. He settled between her legs and kissed her passionately, cupping her face and looking at her intently.

Isabella felt loved, worshiped. She had longed to feel this way for quite some time, and only this strange man had been able to achieve it.

"Bella," he whispered. "You're bella… beautiful"

She smiled as she heard him call her that again and kissed him gently. He smiled a beautiful, crooked smile in response. Isabella shivered as she felt him at her entrance, hard and ready. He snaked his hand between them and positioned himself there. No words were said as he finally pushed into her; his thrusts were slow, but purposeful as he entered her over and over.

He whispered how good she felt as he did so. Isabella moaned quietly against his mouth, looking intensely into his eyes, watching his expressions. There was surprise, intrigue and true fascination flashing across his face, as she moved with and against him.

It seemed like hours had passed before Isabella's body began to tremble as her orgasm approached. She pressed him closer to her, if that could be possible, and closed her eyes, moaning loudly. He followed right after her, moaning 'Bella' over and over again.

After he rode out his orgasm and his breathing had settled, he rolled over and lay on the bed. Isabella turned into him and smiled.

"Happy birthday," she whispered.

He smiled crookedly again. "It is now, thank you."

She giggled and looked at him before kissing him softly on the lips. "I'm glad you liked your present."

"It was very nice," he chuckled. "Thanks for making my first time unforgettable."

"I have to confess something," she said, as ran her finger against his lips. "You gave me my first kiss tonight."

"I did?" he asked. She nodded. "Well, I hope it was good."

"It was really good," she admitted.

"I'm glad," he said, just before his cell phone rang. He looked at it and frowned. "I have to go, or I'm going to miss my bus."

Isabella looked down uncomfortably and sad. "Okay," she simply said.

He stood from the bed and quickly got dressed, as he looked at her while he did so. "It really was a pleasure meeting you," he said before walking to the door. He reached it and turned, gazing at her.

"What's your name?" she asked in a whisper.

"Edward Masen, what's yours?"

"Isabella," she replied, shyly and sincerely for the first time.

"I was right, you are Bella," he said, before walking out.

Edward, she thought. His name was Edward. The irony of that being his name was not lost on her.


He didn't show up again, and Isabella realized it was probably because he couldn't afford it with his minimum wage job. She was very interested in him, so Isabella went to look for him at Goodwill with Alice, her roommate and colleague. They invited him over for a 'party' that was supposed to be of three, but ended up becoming only of two because Alice worked the night shifts at the brothel. Edward stayed overnight with Isabella and it became a regular occurrence for them afterward, so much so that Edward eventually moved in with them.

She smiled thinking back about the good moments, yet those were the most painful to remember. There were bad moments, too, because even though their story had a beautiful beginning, it wasn't always that way. A few months in things started to change; Edward was becoming frustrated with Isabella's occupation. The patience that was always present in the beginning of their relationship began to evaporate, and one day, Edward finally snapped.

Isabella and Edward made plans, but she was stuck working really late. Though she tried, she hadn't been able to leave early because that would just be looking for trouble. Leaving early on a busy night was not something you did at the brothel unless you wanted to upset Phil. Doing that was just unintelligent.

Edward was waiting for her in the kitchen at their apartment, and as soon as she saw him, she could tell that he was furious. Anger rolled off of him in waves, he bounced his leg relentlessly, dragging his hands through his hair, tugging it hard. He glared at her as soon as she walked in, standing up rapidly and throwing his chair back against the wall.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he yelled.

Isabella acted upon reflex, scooting back a few steps and stumbling upon the counter. "I was at work, baby. I had a few extra customers and I couldn't leave, you know how Phil is."

"I know how Phil is?" he asked mockingly. He shook his head as he said, "No, Bella, I don't know how the fuck he is, nor do I wanna know. You were supposed to be here at nine, we were gonna go to the concert, remember?"

"I know that, but-"

"Those tickets were non-refundable," he said, cutting her off.

"I'm sorry, Edward, but I made enough money to make up for it," she muttered, looking down at the floor.

He scoffed and walked up to her. "You think this is about fucking money? This night was supposed to be special for us, Bella, and you chose to stay fucking other men than to be with me," he shouted.

"You know it's not like that, baby, but I just couldn't leave."

"You couldn't leave? Like hell you couldn't leave! I'm so fucking tired of this shit, Bella. You're always making up excuses for your fucking job and it's all bullshit," he spat.

Isabella looked up and stepped closer to him. "It's not bullshit, Edward, and you know that. Don't make this any harder for me, please," she begged.

Edward closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. "I stay here every fuckingday, knowing that you go to that brothel and sleep with other men, and I'm making it harder for you? Well, I'm fucking sorry."

She mustered the courage to move forward, finally closing the distance between them and cupped his face with her hands. Edward trembled under her touch as he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Edward, I told you that this would happen; I never lied to you. You met me at the brothel, knowing what I was, what I still am, and you stayed with me regardless."

"Because I love you, Bella, that's why. It's the only reason why I put up with all of this garbage, but I've had it. I don't want to share you with anyone else. You need to quit your job, or you're going to lose me."

Isabella sighed, "Baby, I can't leave the brothel. You know it's the only job I can get since I have no education and no other working experience. What am I gonna do? Go back to the streets? Is that what you want? If I do, we'd be separated then, and I can't have that. I can't be without you, Edward; I can't,"

"Are you sure that's why you won't quit? You're not just saying that to appease me?" he asked, as he leaned against her forehead.

"I'm sure, baby. I don't like this any more than you do, but I don't have another option."

Edward kissed her softly before asking, "So you're saying that you don't enjoy being with other men? That you hate it, too?"

"Yes, baby; I hate it, too. I could never enjoy being with them," she said, threading her fingers through his hair. "I love you, Edward, only you." She kissed him again and what started as gentle soon became urgent. Edward walked her backward in the hall, pressing his body flush against hers, gripping her hips. A thud resounded as Isabella's body impacted with the wall, mixing with the moans that erupted from their mouths as they kissed passionately.

He broke the kiss and cupped her chin forcefully, holding her in place and making her look at him. "Tell me, Bella; tell me that you can fuck all those other men, but that you're only mine."

"I'm yours, Edward. I'll always be yours. They can all have my body, but my heart is only yours... only yours."

Edward slid his hand from her chin to her neck, somewhat strangling her. "If you ever leave me for another man I'll fucking kill you, you hear me?" he asked, choking her tighter.

"Yes, Edward, I heard you," she squeaked.

"Good. Now show me how much you love me, baby," he said, before picking her up roughly and biting her neck.

That moment would be replayed over and over in the future, and though every time it was different, they'd always end up the same: having make-up sex. And every time Edward made sure to claim his territory, whether from leaving bruises on her body by being too rough, or by marking her neck. This never made Isabella want to leave him, though, because she thought that he was just insecure by instinct.

Nobody had ever loved him before, and she reasoned he was just afraid, so she stayed with him. Edward made her very happy, so she couldn't turn her back on what little happiness she could experience. She was right in a way; Edward did make sure to make her smile like she hadn't since she was child. He'd take her to the movies or to dinner, doing what normal couples did, and they even took a road trip to California so she could swim in the sea for the first time in her life. They would hang out with Alice and Emmett, too.

Emmett had stopped visiting Isabella at the brothel since she started dating Edward, and began having an affair with Alice, but the attraction was still there. They tried to hide it, both for Alice and Edward's sake, but they couldn't help it. The tension between them was apparent, and Isabella knew that they had to stop seeing each other or their frustration would combust. Unfortunately, she didn't listen to her instincts, and one day the inevitable happened, turning her world upside down.


The room was very hot that day, even though the air conditioning was at full blast; the loud moans erupting from Isabella reverberated in the small space. Her body was slick with sweat as she pushed back against Emmett while he pounded deeply into her from her behind. Her hands shook on the mattress as she held on for dear life, relishing the feel of his hands on her hips, gripping her tightly.

"You fucking love that don't you?" Emmett asked.

"Oh, God, yes," she whimpered. "Right there… it feels so good." And she wasn't lying. He definitely knew how to work her body, and the fact that he was well-endowed made the experience that much greater.

Sex with Emmett was entirely different than with Edward. There were no feelings involved, and they gave in to their basic instincts. This is what she longed to have with Edward, because when they weren't making love their sexual encounters were usually violent.

She blocked those thoughts out and focused on the way Emmett was breathing, the way he moved her body forward with each thrust.

"Fuck… oh, fuck… more," she begged. "I'm so close, Emmett; I'm so fucking close."

Emmett thrust forcefully once more and just as she was about come, someone began pounding on the door. "Open the fucking door, Bella! Don't even fucking try to hide Emmett. I know he's in there with you!"

The voice was unmistakably Edward's.

Isabella turned and sat up straight, covering herself with the sheets, as if that would do anything to help her situation. She couldn't deny what had just happened with Emmett if Edward asked her. He had probably heard her. The realization that Edward had probably been at the door eavesdropping for God knows how long dawned on her. She also realized that she probably wouldn't make it out alive from that room.

Edward banged on the door harder this time. "I said to open the fucking door! What the fuck are you waiting for? I know what you were doing in there, so just open it, God dammit!"

Emmett looked at her apologetically as he put on his pants. "I'll go talk to him, okay? Just stay here and call the cops, Bella. You know this is going to get nasty, and I'm not about to let him touch you, you hear me? Call the cops."

She shook her head repeatedly, trying to hold in the sob that threatened to escape. "I can't do that, Em. I can't do that to him after we did this… I can't."

Isabella's hesitance seemed to fuel Edward's rage. He kicked and pounded on the door with his fists loudly.

Emmett sighed. "Fine then, but I'm not letting you go out there, put on some clothes and stay here."

Isabella didn't acknowledge or agree to do what he said. She just sat there, numb and terrified in anticipation at what was to come. She looked to the door where Emmett was currently at, opening it. She didn't even see Edward as he hit Emmett right in the jaw, yet she heard the impact.

Emmett stumbled back but regained his stance and pushed Edward off of him as he tried to get a few more blows in. "Calm the fuck down, Edward!" he yelled.

"Calm down? You want me to calm down after I heard you fucking my girlfriend? Where the fuck is she?" he asked, as he tried to look past Emmett who was currently blocking her from his sight. He would have none of that, though, so he pushed him back and punched him again. He entered the room and made his way to the bedroom, locking eyes with Isabella once she was in his line of view.

She was immobile, still as a statue, as she looked at him, wrapped up in a sheet. Edward's nostrils flared as he took in her disheveled appearance and almost ran to her, but Emmett stopped him with a punch of his own.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her, Edward! I'll kill you," he threatened.

"You'll kill me? Seriously, Emmett? You'd kill me for her?" he asked in a mocking tone. "I don't believe that for a second. You don't love her, you wouldn't dare."

"No, you're right, I don't love her, but I care about her, and I know that she doesn't deserve to be abused that way. No woman deserves that."

"Well, she should have thought about that before she came here and fucked you… I can't believe you'd do this to me, Emmett. You were supposed to be my friend," he spat angrily. "And you," he said looking and pointing at Isabella, "you said that you loved me. What kind of fucked up love is this, Bella?"

Isabella was mute. She had nothing to say since she knew that what she'd done was unforgivable. She just continued to stare at him as a million expressions flashed across his face.

Emmett must have thought about something that made Edward livid; he glared at him and then at Isabella. "I can't believe you told him, Bella," Edward seethed.

"She didn't tell me anything, Edward. You think I don't see how you bruise her? How you're always hurting her? I don't need to have 'special powers' like you to know what's going on," Emmett said.

"What the fuck do you care anyway?" Edward seethed. "Worry about Rosalie, your wife… or do you not care about her anymore? Did you even think about her while you were fucking Bella?"

Emmett glared at Edward but didn't say anything. He just stood there motionless.

Edward scoffed, glowering at Isabella. "Do you think he'd leave his wife for a fucking whore?"

She didn't answer either, appearing to be in a catatonic state.

Edward shook his head, defeated. "No, only I, the fucking freak, would be stupid enough to fall in love with a whore like you," he said, as he wiped blood from his lip, turning for the door.

Finally, tears streamed down her face; his words had hit below the belt. She wanted to scream for him to come back, but she knew that would never happen. Emmett turned to her and said, "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head and stood up from the bed."I don't need your pity, Emmett. I knew what I was getting myself into. There are always consequences for our mistakes; this is mine, I have to live with it."

After that night she never saw Edward again. He'd left their apartment, taking all his things and all of their pictures together. Isabella was devastated and would have recurring nightmares from that night only to be woken by the sounds of her voice, screaming Edward's name. Many times she considered suicide, though she never had the courage to follow along with her plans.

Time seemed to pass slowly for her as she worked at the brothel for the first few weeks, never paying attention to the men she served, just getting her job done so she wouldn't be in trouble. Her health started to deteriorate and Phil noticed this, so he took her the community clinic to get a checkup.

Isabella wasn't sick, though. She was pregnant.

Her baby gave her strength to go on, and with Phil's help, she was able to make some money. He hired her as his receptionist since, Jane, the previous girl that had that position, had been fired.

She had been the person responsible for the confrontation between Edward and Emmett, because she had allowed him to go to Isabella's room when it was prohibited. It didn't matter to Isabella; she knew it had been wrong to be there, at that moment, with Emmett. Whether Edward found out or not was pointless.

She would always regret her decision, but she couldn't do anything about it. All she could do was care for her daughter.

Mackenzie, she was all that mattered.

Thinking about her made Isabella stand up and wipe her tears from her cheeks. She went to the bathroom and washed her face. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror she saw determination.

She would be strong.

Isabella walked back out to the room and got her job done for the rest of the day without a problem. The next morning, after her double shift was done, she went over to Alice's house.

Alice had moved out of their apartment and stopped working at the brothel after the debacle with Emmett happened, but had remained good friends with Isabella. She didn't turn her back on her friend since she always knew that Emmett would never love her, and he'd tricked Isabella; he had made advances toward her and she never gave in, so he went to the brothel to get what he couldn't under good terms. She babysat Mackenzie while Isabella worked, which was mostly in the evenings, though this weekend had been an exception since there was a convention in town and the brothel had a lot of business.

Isabella pushed up her shades, as she knocked and waited for Alice to answer it. A bright smile spread across her face as she saw Mackenzie with Alice when she opened the door.

"Look who's here, sweetheart," Alice told Mackenzie.

"Momma!" Mackenzie exclaimed, reaching out for Isabella.

Isabella picked Mackenzie up, placing kisses on her soft cheeks, and cradled her in her arms. "I missed you so much, princess! Did you miss me?"

Alice smirked, "Oh, she definitely missed you. She wouldn't go to sleep until I played her the song you recorded for her."

"I'm sorry, was she a little pain in the butt?" Isabella asked, playfully. "I hate working double shifts because I have to be away from her for so long, you know?"

"I know, sweetie; so how was work?" Alice asked.

"I had a really tough morning," she replied. "It was two year's yesterday." She didn't need to elaborate more since Alice knew she was referring to her break-up with Edward.

"Oh, honey, I can imagine…" she trailed off. "Last year was bad."

"Yeah, but I don't want to talk about that, okay?" Isabella said, looking down at the ground.

"Bella, can I ask you something?" she asked, nervously.

"Sure, Ali, go ahead," Isabella replied.

"What would you do if Edward came back?"

Isabella looked up at Alice immediately. "He's not coming back," she replied, in a flat tone.

"He did. I saw him at the gas station."

"Well, good for him," Isabella muttered, not wanting any more information. She looked at Mackenzie who was playing with her hair and sighed. "I have to get going, I want to be able to buy breakfast at McDonald's and you know they won't serve it even if it's just one second after eleven."

"Okay, well let me go get Mackie's things," Alice said, before walking into her house and coming back with the baby's diaper bag. "She just had some cereal, so make sure you don't bounce her too much."

"Sure thing, sweets! Thanks for everything," Isabella said, before turning and making her way down the driveway to her car. After stopping at McDonald's for a Sausage McMuffin breakfast, she went home. The drive was short and quick, not giving her time to dwell on what Alice had said.

She pulled into the drive, looking at Mackenzie in her rearview mirror, as she smiled. "We're home, sweetheart," she said. She stepped out of the car and got Mackenzie out of her safety chair, slinging the diaper bag on her shoulder.

As she made her way to the door, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Edward was sitting on her front steps waiting for her.

Isabella didn't know what to do. Edward looked at her first and then at Mackenzie. He looked confused at first, but then his expression changed. He must have realized that Mackenzie was his daughter. She was Edward's spitting image.

He stood and looked down while Isabella approached her home. She grabbed her keys and walked ahead of him to open the screen door as Edward remained silent behind her. She began unlocking the door when he finally spoke.

"Bella, I need to talk to you," he said, in a pleading voice.

Isabella looked at him and nodded. "That's fine, come in, Edward." She motioned for him to enter once she stepped inside. She placed Mackenzie in her playpen in the living room and then went into the kitchen. She took her sunglasses off and crossed her arms across her chest before looking at Edward.

She sighed as he remained speechless. "Well, what did you want to talk about?"

"I came back," he simply said.

"I can see that. What else is new?" she asked, in a snarky tone.

Edward exhaled loudly and ran his fingers through his hair. "I came back for you, Bella."

She shook her head and sighed again. "What does that mean, Edward?"

"It means that I want you back… that I need you back in my life."

"Really? Because the last time I saw you it seemed that the last thing you wanted was to be with a whore like me," she said, throwing his words back at him.

Edward flinched at her crudity. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It doesn't matter now, Edward, it was a long time ago."

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too, but that doesn't change things. You left," she said, sadly.

"You don't know how much I regret that, Bella-"

"Don't," she cut off him. "You had every reason to do it."

"I know that Emmett tricked you, Alice told me."

"I could have said no, but I didn't," she confessed.

Edward stayed silent before saying, "You look very different."

This was very true since she had cut and dyed her hair black. Isabella tucked a strand of it behind her ear and shifted nervously. "Yeah, things changed here a lot."

"I noticed that," he said, as he shifted nervously. "Your daughter is beautiful."

"She really is. She looks like her father," she said, as she looked at him and recognized the features that Mackenzie had inherited from him.

"What's her name?" he asked.

"Mackenzie Masen, I hope you don't mind."

Edward smiled crookedly. "Not at all, I think that's a great name. I wish I could have been here for her birth."

Isabella was speechless even though she had many things she wanted to say. Her nervousness got the best of her and she blurted out, "Those were difficult times. Mackenzie was born with congenital heart disease."

"Is she gonna be okay?" Edward asked, worriedly.

"I pray to God everyday asking for just that."

"I'm so sorry, Bella."

"It's okay," she said, looking down, "but her medical bills are high because of her treatment."

"I can help you with that," he said quickly. "I can move back here with you guys and help pay the bills."

"You can't, Edward. I'm still working at the brothel to pay Phil back all the money he lent me for her surgery. I'm not willing to go back to the past."

"I'll handle it differently, Bella, I promise. I'll be patient and I'll help you out."

"No you won't, Edward. I've heard those promises before and they're lies… white lies, but lies nonetheless."

Edward looked defeated after she said this, but still begged. "Just give me a chance, Bella, please."

She shook her head. "I can't, and I don't want to talk about this anymore. If you don't have anything else to say, I'd like for you to leave."

Edward didn't insist anymore and just turned for the door, he stopped in the living room and looked at Mackenzie for the last time. Isabella went to Mackenzie's playpen and picked her up as he walked out of her home. Mackie began to cry as tears streamed down Isabella's face, breaking her mother's heart.

"I know, sweetheart, it's okay. We're gonna be okay," she said as she hugged her.

Isabella knew she was right. For the first time she had done something that she could be proud of: she had saved her daughter from living in a world of pain.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked this story. Let me know what you think in a review ;) I have a few ideas for some outtakes after the contest is over, so you may want to add the story in your alerts if you'd like to read them.