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"Bring Me To Life"
Evanescence
how can you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where i've become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there and lead it back home
wake me up inside
wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark
bid my blood to run
before i come undone
save me from the nothing i've become
"It's okay. You don't have to be afraid because I'm not going to hurt you. I am, however, surprised you came back; especially to see the lad."
I dropped the blanket, pivoted slowly on my heels, and flashed my light toward the voice, coming face to face with an elderly gentleman who was probably in his late fifties, early sixties. He had jet black hair with a tinge of gray, dark eyes, a bit on the thin side and rather tall. A person's face, especially their eyes, creates obvious and immediate cues that lead to the formation of an impression, and his told me, along with his smile, that he was good natured; I could feel it.
"W-what do you mean by 'the lad'?"
He walked over toward the workbench, flicked on the lamp, and placed a grocery bag on top, then faced me once more, smiling as he pointed toward the entryway that led to the room Edward was hiding in. "The lad."
"You mean…Edward?"
"Edward, heh?" He shook his head, the smile still appreciable. "Did he tell you his name?" I nodded. "After nearly seven years, I finally find out his name. Ah well, better late than never I always say."
I gasped. "Seven years? What do you mean seven years?"
He nodded; his focus was now on the grocery bag as he removed items inside it. "That's how long he's been here."
"Oh, my God," I cried, feeling a mix of consternation and anger. "How could you…how could you keep him here, especially that long?"
His hands stilled, and his body went completely stagnant, until he finally turned to face me, wearing a pained expression. "I didn't keep him here. I found him here."
"What?" I replied in a hoarse whisper.
"I've had this place ten years now, I think. Never really knew why I bought it. The first few months I kept saying to myself, "Marcus, it's pointless. What are you doing?" Guess maybe it was because it needed a lot of work, it looked as lonely as I was, and since I'm alone, doing the work around here by myself would keep me busy, keep my mind off the fact that I have no one to go home to." There was a tremble to his tone, one that evinced years of scars.
"All my life, I'd always done me, no one else. When it came to taking care of someone other than me, I ran away from the responsibility. Running away was second nature to me, you see. And because of that reason, it's why I've spent the majority of my life alone. I'm an old man now, barely holding onto the pathetic life I've led, and I had a choice when I found that boy; either I run, or for once in my life take care of someone other than myself. The fear in his eyes, the bruises on his face in the shape of a hand, it haunted me for weeks. I could only imagine what the rest of him looked like, but he wouldn't let me near him to see. He was almost animalistic because he was that terrified. Someone hurt him…badly." His eyes shifted toward the doorway that concealed Edward.
"I couldn't run, don't you see? For the first time in my miserable life, I wanted to do the right thing by someone else. Letting him stay here, it may seem abnormal and cruel, and under different circumstances it would be. If I could have coerced him to leave, I would have taken him home to care for him, but for whatever reason, he seems to want to be here. I have a feeling that boy has been through more than you or I could fathom, and I was not going to take away any security or comfort he had found. I couldn't do that to him. You didn't see him; you didn't see what had been done to him.
"So I told him about that room, dropping hints on how to get down here and hoping he'd use them because it was much cleaner; it was meant as an overnight room for the caretaker. And one day he did. I showed up, and he wasn't in his regular place; he'd moved to that room. When I finally got him down here, I blanketed the doorway to conceal it so the wrong person wouldn't find him, took care of him, made sure he had food and access to water, along with other things he'd need. It's not much, it's certainly not the Hilton, but it's got to be better than where he's from. It took him a good while to even trust me enough to eat, but he did. Maybe it's because I stood outside that door, everyday, talking to him, but I never went inside. He's fragile, so I gotta work at his pace. And with the clothing I provided, well, that's another story entirely. One outfit was all he seemed to want, but that was okay. I wanted him to know he could trust me, that not all people are bad or out to hurt him.
"I really hoped that trust would grow so that I could get him out of this place and somewhere better. I know he doesn't belong here, but revealing he's here, especially in the state he's in, I would have signed his death warrant. They'd come in here and take him, lock him up in a place full of crazies, and that would most definitely kill him. That reason is the only reason he's still here. He's not crazy, he's just lost, and he needs someone to find him. He's been silent and completely solitary almost seven years, until now. I've done what I can for him, but it wasn't me he chose, it was you. Don't make that choice be an empty one for him," he pleaded.
Tears deluged my cheeks and dripped from my chin, dissolving into the material of my t-shirt. "You care about him."
"Someone has to," he ground out. "Even if it's done from afar." He cleared his throat, then turned back to the workbench and began emptying the bag again. "You should go see him now. I'm sure that's why you're back."
I sighed, gazing at him inquisitively, wondering how he knew I'd been here to begin with. His head lifted, eyes meeting mine, and he laughed, seemingly aware of my thoughts. "I saw you leave. I wouldn't have known you were here, otherwise. Anyway, I'll be here for awhile, if you need anything and all that. I brought him some food and supplies, so you're welcome to take them to him."
I gripped my tote bag, lifting it upright to show him. "I…umm…brought him something to eat. It's not much, but I thought-"
He faced me, a smile of reassurance upon his face. "It'll be enough, don't worry. I'll just leave this here for later, then." He pointed toward the door. "Go on now."
I gave him a slight nod then whispered, "Thank you."
He winked. "Hey, it's the least I can do."
I turned back around, pulling the blanket aside and opened the door. I flashed my light ahead of me and advanced tentatively down the hall, partially to keep from startling Edward, but also because I was adapting myself. I had no idea how he'd react, if my leaving was a setback to the progression we'd made. I certainly hoped not, but I needed to be prepared for that reaction all the same.
The closer I came to that room, the more my heart hammered in my chest. It wasn't fear, it was anticipation. I wanted to see him again and hoped he wanted to see me too. When I cleared the hall and reached the door that led directly into Edward's room, I briefly paused, taking in deep, calming breaths, then pushed it open.
I wanted to cry the moment I stepped inside that room, seeing him cowered in the corner - his entire frame trembling - and clutched tightly within his right arm was Lancelot.
"Edward," I choked out as the sting of fresh tears built in the corner of my eyes. "It's Bella. I'm…I'm here. I came back."
He never moved, never turned to face me, just continued to recoil into the corner. To see him like this, after making such progress the day before, it lacerated my heart. We went from moving two steps forward to taking four steps backward.
Two rather caustic feelings impacted me in that moment; hate toward whoever hurt him and a feverish determination to reach him. So I wiped away the tears cascading down my face and slowly approached the wall at the halfway point of the room, pressing back against the rough cement, then sliding down to a sitting position upon the floor.
It's just as Marcus said, I'd have to go at Edward's pace.
"So," I began, striving to keep my voice placid. "I packed us a lunch before I came. It's just sandwiches and apple juice, nothing fancy, but I figured we could eat together if you wanted, maybe I could tell you what I've been up to." He was still silent, still unmoving as I opened my tote bag and pulled out the food I'd prepared. "Oh, I brought you a warmer blanket, and I even brought one for Lancelot." I pulled out my old baby blanket, holding it up in my hand to show him. "He needs to be nice and warm too." I laid the blanket down beside me.
He pressed his knees further into the corner, but his head shifted so that I could see his eyes, see that he was staring at me. "It's alright," I whispered soothingly, nodding at him. "It's alright. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, okay?"
His eyes darted between me and the baby blanket, like he wanted to reach for it, but fear left him immobile. "When you're ready," I assured him. "Only when you're ready."
I placed his food and thermos beside the blanket, then pulled my knees up to my chest and reached for my sandwich, taking a small bite before I spoke. Maybe if he saw that I was relaxed and eating, it might prompt him to want to as well. "You know, I really like peanut butter and jelly." I flipped the sandwich over, briefly staring at it before my eyes met his again. "It's strange because I really didn't when I was younger. Charlie, my dad, he used to make it for me a lot, probably because that's the only thing he really could make," I chuckled. "He's not much of a cook, and my brother, Emmett, well, he manages to burn toast. So peanut butter and jelly was a delicacy around my house.
"I stopped eating it for quite a long time, then out of nowhere, I had this taste for it, so I went to the kitchen and made me two sandwiches. Charlie was sitting at the table, watching me. I remember his face, how shocked he was that I was actually eating it and enjoying it." I took another small bite of my sandwich. "He never said a word, though, only smiled. That's kind of his thing, keeping silent. He's not one to hover, but he's a good father. He's always taken good care of me and Emmett.
"It's funny how alike we are, Charlie and I. Emmett, he's more like my mother; really outgoing and funny. I guess I'm more of a 'suffer in silence' type. I prefer to keep to myself, so I don't really have a regular clique of friends, well, other than Alice. Coming here the other day with that group of people, that was abnormal for me. But I'm not sorry, even with the head injury, which is fine according to Dr. Cullen." I realized I was blabbering, but it was all part of the bigger picture, making him feel at ease with me. That was the only thing that mattered right now.
I saw movement from my peripherals, so I paused, noticing he was no longer shrouded in the corner; he'd receded a few inches, attention focused solely on me. I smiled, then continued speaking. "I didn't tell you what happened on my way in here, did I? Well, I met the nice gentleman who owns this place. His name is Marcus. He actually brought you some more food and supplies, but I figured since I made us a lunch, you could always eat what he brought later." Edward exhaled raucously, and I could swear afterward he whispered something, but it was so low that whatever he'd said was unintelligible.
I glanced in his direction, seeing how his eyes averted back and forth between me and the items beside me. "Do you want these?" I asked as I looked at the blanket and food beside me, then back up to him. He blinked a few times as our eyes met, then his once again lowered to what lay beside me. "It's okay if you do. If you want, I can push them toward you, or I can move so you can grab them."
I started to move, but stopped - for some reason unknown to me - the moment he inched toward me. He kept inching forward cautiously; his body tense and alert, Adam's apple rising and falling from swallowing thickly, never once taking his eyes off me. "It's okay, Edward," I whispered amiably to him. "It's okay. I'll never hurt you."
I placed my sandwich in my lap, bracing my hands along the hard floor, and stilled - my entire body completely stationary – to keep from frightening him. And just as he reached me, his breath became staccato, but he grabbed the blanket and food, his knuckles lightly brushing along my hand as he did so. I had to bite into my lip to keep from gasping. I didn't believe it was intentional, but he didn't freak out from the contact either. To me, that was such a huge thing.
He retreated back toward his wall, but refrained from the corner. He pressed his left side against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest, and resting his chin upon them; all the while, he was watching me. He slowly reached behind him and grabbed Lancelot, pulling the bear toward him, then laid him upon the baby blanket.
I smiled warmly as I reached for my sandwich and took a bite. He'd yet to eat from his, but we'd made progress, and though it was a small progress, it was still a victory; Edward's victory.
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