Soothing Cold

Chapter 18

BPOV

With a gasp, I jolt awake from my restless sleep, clutching the armrest white-knuckled as the plane turbulence gives a minor shudder. A hand slowly touches my wrist, and I give a jolt before I meet my father's concerned gaze.

I relax, minorly, back into the seat and let him offer this small form of comfort. I know that if I gave any subtle sign of discomfort, he would immediately remove it.

After that first night, he's been very patient with me. More attentive too. Asking about my day, making himself more available to me, turning the TV on mute and giving his full attention when we talk now.

It's a bit odd, but his obvious effort and concern also makes me really happy.

"I'm okay," I tell him.

"Was it a bad dream?"

"Yeah," I admit with a grimace. He doesn't push for me to say anything else about it.

"Why don't you try listening to music or reading for a bit. We only have about a half hour left," he suggests, and I quickly agree.

Throwing in my headphones, I close my eyes and lean back in my seat, trying to ignore the smell and feel of bodies all crammed into the small plane with me.

I really wish Rosalie and Emmet could have been on the same flight, but their's will be getting in later in the evening. Luckily, we were able to get adjacent rooms at the hotel. With all these people who know and will protect me, I've never felt so secure at the prospect of going back. Just the thought of being in the same room as my step-father gives me the creeps (and a lot of anxiety), but I know that he would never dare try anything with all these people around. He's never taken any risks before.

I wonder what he would do if he knew that Charlie knows? Would he suspect since he is coming with me? Honestly, I just want to get through this visit and go back home.

When we reach the airport, Phil and Rene are there to greet us enthusiastically, and we all go out to dinner to eat. It's a very tense affair with Charlie being stand-offish and me not looking up from my plate more than a handful of time.

As they drop us off at the hotel, I wonder if this is what the entire visit will be like. It surely wouldn't be the worst thing if it was.

"Bella," Charlie calls as I'm brushing my teeth in front of the mirror. My two best friends should be arriving any minute. "Have you ever tried to tell Rene what was going on?" He asks hesitantly.

I tense, lowering my eyes from the mirror, and then keeping them lowered after I spit.

"…At first I used to try to tell. But something would always interrupt, or he would distract her. At some point I gave up. It didn't feel like I would ever get away from him."

His hand gently touches my shoulder, and I expected it this time. I let the gesture happen.

"Do you still feel that way?"

My head jolts up and I meet his eyes, surprised, in the mirror. Then I smile. "No," I say. "I think I'm really happy now. At least most of the time. There are some bad days."

He returns my smile, so obviously relieved.

At that moment, a knock sounds at the door, causing me to jolt and Charlie's hand to fall from my shoulder. Then I'm at the door and throwing it open, launching myself into the already open arms on the other side.

"Hey, Bella Bear," Emmet greets with a chuckle before passing me off to an impatiently waiting Rosalie. When she gets her hands on me, her nose buries into my neck and inhales deeply.

"How was it," she asks softly, opening just enough space between our bodies to slip and arm through and tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. Behind me, Charlie shuffles farther into the room to give us the illusion of privacy.

"Tense," I sigh, "but it could have been worse. I don't know how I'm going to make it two weeks here, Rose. It's so hard to be around him all the time."

Her jaw clenches at my words, eyes swimming with something dark. "I know, Honey," she murmurs, placing a lingering kiss on my forehead, right between my eyes. "Just say the word and we can have you on the first plane back home."

I'm already reluctantly shaking my head. "Mom wouldn't understand why I'm leaving. I wish he would just disappear."

I briefly wonder, as my eyes pass over her nearly black eyes, and then Emmet's, how easily she could make people disappear. If I asked, would she do it? I believe that she would. She did it in Port Angeles. I looked, and the papers and news said nothing about those three men that she killed. We've never even talked about it passed what they tried to do.

I reluctantly shake off the thought, knowing that I'd never ask her to do something like that. If I want him gone, I'd have to talk to Charlie about it, and I resolve to go to him when we get back to Forks. But where would they get the evidence at this point? It's been almost a year.

Feeling suddenly very tired, I draw myself further from my friends.

"It's late. I think I'm going to head to bed."

"Alright," Rosalie says, expression concerned as she brushes a hand over my hair again. "Try to get some sleep."

And I nod even though I know that my sleep is going to be riddled with nightmares.

…..

The first week is relatively easy. Most of the time is spent indoors with my mother, or doing our own thing in different parts of the house. When Phil gets home in the evening, we all have dinner together there or at a restaurant before the adults retire to the living room to watch baseball and talk, while me and my friends take a walk under the evening stars.

I hardly ever see Phil between him still working in the summer and my three willing buffers, and I'm quite alright with that.

"He wasn't always rough with me," I admit lowly, as me and my vampiric angels take another lap around the neighborhood that evening. The sky is grey with the fading of twilight, and street-lamps periodically flicker on as it slowly grows darker. "After the first few weeks, he hardly ever left bruises."

I hug my arms across my torso, watching my beat-up sneakers rather than my companions. There is a rare distance between us, that normally isn't there. I don't feel like being touched at the moment, even by their cool touch.

"He liked to kiss me, my mouth, my face, my body. He was gentle and dragged it out and whispered nice words in my ear. He would say that I was beautiful- look what I did to him- that he loved me." I wipe harshly at my cheeks, subconsciously sidestepping Emmet as he tries to reach out to me. I don't want to be comforted at the moment. "He said that he knew I d-didn't really want him to stop. He said that he knew I l-liked what he did to me. It didn't matter if I locked the door, he has a key."

"It's not your fault," Rosalie says softly, hovering at my side. If I swayed just a centimeter towards her, our arms would brush.

My eyes swing desperately to her, searching her shadowed eyes, pleadingly.

In a quiet voice, hardly a whisper, I haltingly admit another secret. "Sometimes, w-when he touched m-me, my-my body w-would react and I didn't want it to- I didn't like it- I sw-swear, I didn't want it, b-but it would jus-just react. And I hated myself even more when that happened."

Her cold fingertips brush mine gently, and I clutch hard at them, pleading for her to not think less of me as I hiccuped on my tears. Her face doesn't change to disgust, though, and I know my trust in them could never be misplaced.

Her hand comes up, pushing my hair back to keep it from sticking to my wet cheeks, and brushes her cool petal lips just below my eye.

I close them, letting myself take comfort in her unperverted love.

"It's not your fault," she just whispers again, and I fall fully into her body while bursting into tears.

My body's own reactions, no matter how small they were, were always my biggest shame. I knew intellectually, on some level, that it wasn't my fault. But it's really nice to tell someone about it and hear them say so too.

A/N: Hey guys, so I rewrote the Port Angeles scene in Ch5, but it doesn't really effect the story so you don't have to reread it unless you really want to.

As for this chapter: Bella opens up some more. I know it's a bit dark but most of this story is. Please let me know what you think.

~Silver~