TUS - Chapter Nine: Acquiesce

Morning routine was the same as the day before; get dressed, prepare lunch for three people and include something that may rouse Edward to open up further. Of course, that meant the same book I read to him yesterday since we'd barely gotten halfway through it, but it was entertainment all the same, and he really seemed to enjoy it. I even included my iPod just in case he fell asleep and I needed something to keep me occupied during.
I shuffled out of the house rather quickly and was on my way to the hospital nearly thirty minutes after I woke. That was probably a record for me, but when it came to Edward, I didn't waste time.
When I arrived, Marcus was on the second floor, filling a copious amount of lawn bags with garbage that lay cluttering the cemented floors. I chuckled at his incoherent mutterings. He was obviously not happy about this morning's agenda. "Bad morning?"
He laughed as he dropped the bag he held between his gloved hands. "You could say that." He looked around, exhaling a sonorous breath in annoyance. "I knew this would be a lot of work, but no sooner do I get one portion finished, kids come through here vandalizing or partying, and I have a whole new mess to clean."
"Marcus, I-"
"That wasn't a jab at you, Bella," he interrupted, his tone compassionate. "So please don't take it that way."
I nodded, then cleared my throat and gestured toward my tote bag. "I brought you lunch. Should I set it on your bench in the boiler room?"
"Bella," he shook his head, sighing. "You have to stop doing that."
"Why?" I asked. "I just…I'm sorry if I offended you."
A small smile played at the corner of his lips. "You didn't offend me, I'm just not used to someone doing something nice for me, let alone wanting to. I've never been high on anyone's priority list. I guess what goes around comes around, right?"
"I don't believe that," I told him. "And it's never too late to let people see the real you, because I happen to see someone who's very unselfish."
"You're wrong, Bella. Taking care of one boy doesn't make up for years of being self-absorbed."
"I think it does. People change, Marcus. You're proof of that."
"If I've changed, it's all because of that boy." He hmphed under his breath, then gripped the lawn bag with his left hand and began filling it with more garbage. "You go on now and go see him, he's waiting on you." I'd just turned around and was about to take a step toward the stairs when he called to me. "And, Bella, thanks for the lunch."
I smiled. "You're welcome."
After placing Marcus's lunch on the workbench, I headed toward Edward's room. When I walked inside, he wasn't in the corner of the room, wasn't even against his wall, and because I didn't see him, panic set in. "Edward? Ed-" I cut myself off the moment I spotted him near the far wall. My heart was thumping raucously against my chest, but the biting fear eased the moment I laid eyes on him. He was okay.
He was sitting on the floor with his back to me, but I could make out Lancelot's feet hanging over his right thigh. I had no idea why he was there, just staring at the wall, the same wall he stared at when he woke from his nightmare. "Edward? Edward, are you okay?"
He didn't respond, so I took a few cautious steps forward. I didn't want to frighten him, but the overwhelming need to make sure he was alright was too consuming. "Edward?" I whispered. Still nothing, only quiet. His silence was agony, so I made a few more steps in his direction. "Please, Edward, I just need to-"
"You....you were scared."
I paused my footing, confused by his statement. "What?"
He pivoted his body slowly along the floor to face me. He actually faced me, and my God, the anguish upon his face. That one look left me so gutted, I actually became winded and gasped for breaths, dropping my tote bag to the floor in the process. "I d-did that."
I literally dropped to my knees, colliding painfully with the hard cement, wondering how long he sat there suffocating in guilt for something he shouldn't feel guilty over. I swallowed against the sting now coursing through my legs because my pain was inconsequential to his. "No," I choked out. "You did nothing wrong, okay? You aren't to blame."
"He says it," he whispered.
"Who says what?"
"I know…I know what I am."
"Edward, I-"
"He tells me…he says so." I scooted closer, biting into my lip as my sore knees brushed against the rough cement. I suppose I expected him to flinch at the close proximity, but he didn't. Premature optimism settled in because I hoped it meant he was more acclimated to me, but as I got closer, I realized that was not the case. His eyes were glazed over.
My fingers tingled against my thighs with the need to touch him, to reassure him. "Edward?"
He was staring past me, unblinking, but his eyes moved as if he were reading a book or watching a scene unfold within his mind. "I didn't…mean to." He exhaled a shuddered breath, then swallowed thickly, murmuring words that were insightful, yet crushing. "She left….She…I w-was bad all the time…but I took my medicine."
Medicine? He took his medicine? I imagined that's exactly what he told him the beatings were; medicine. As if abusing Edward, though he didn't use that word I knew that's exactly what happened, was a cure-all. I didn't even want to imagine what all he'd been through. Just contemplating the thought had my stomach clenching with nausea. Yet, this was what I wanted, for him to let me in and speak to me, right? Unveiling himself, even just a fraction, was what I'd pleaded for, and now I'd received it in its cold, scathing and merciless form.
Hate flooded my veins, hate for the one who hurt Edward, leaving a pungent taste in my mouth. I could feel tears cascading down my cheeks, carrying with each droplet a portion of the ache in my chest. I wished they were able to carry Edward's too.
"No," I breathed. I reached for him now, unable to stop myself from touching him because I wanted to comfort him. I placed my hand over his, feeling overwhelming warmth at the touch, and again I expected him to recoil or something, but surprisingly, he wrapped his fingers around mine and lightly squeezed. I gasped/sobbed, completely surprised but touched by his reaction.
He blinked away the fog and slowly met my gaze. I waited for him to pull away from me, but he kept his hand in mine. He peered down to where our hands were joined, wearing a confounded expression, then lifted my hand and turned it over slightly, furrowing his brow as if he were trying to ideate something. "Edward?"
He glanced up to me, then back down to my hand, shaking his head while mumbling, "I don't understand."
I didn't think his musing was meant for my ears, but I did hear and I wanted to know what he meant. "What is it? What don't you understand?"
His gaze was still fixed on our hands, but he placed his free hand over his chest and began breathing in and out deeply. "I can breathe."
I was admittedly puzzled by his remark, but I nodded anyway. "Yes, you can."
He closed his eyes, then whispered so softly I almost didn't hear him, "You do that."
He squeezed my hand again, then opened his eyes to stare into mine. His breathing augmented as he grimaced, and I knew he'd had enough, that what he revealed today had taken a lot out of him. I wanted to tell him it was the same for me, that even though I never lived through anything equivalent to what he had, he'd given me something to look forward to each day. Instead, I held his gaze, even with the tears falling, and squeezed his hand back, telling him with touch and a smile what I couldn't vocalize. And now, a subject change was needed. "So," I began, wiping away newly formed tears. "How's my favorite protector?" I glanced between Edward and Lancelot. "Do you think he's ready for me to read to him again?"
Edward nodded, but didn't respond.
"Okay," I smiled. I released his hand, then pointed toward my bag that was still lying near the entryway. "I have to get the book from my bag, I'll be right back."
I stood up, choking back a groan of pain as much as I could. My hands instinctively reached for my knees, where most the pain resided, but I stopped myself and moved moderately toward my bag. I bent over just as slowly to retrieve it, and when I was standing upright again, walking back toward Edward, I saw him watching me, an ample amount of concern within his eyes. "You…hurt." It was not a question.
"I'm alright," I assured him.
I sat down as gently as I could, but I was still met with throbbing in my achy joints despite how easily I tried to move. I straightened my legs, then inhaled a deep, calming breath, exhaling in the same fashion. And just as I opened the book, Edward leaned forward and placed Lancelot over my knees.
"Thank you," I smiled. "I feel much better now."
He leaned back against the wall, patiently waiting for me to begin. I opened the page lined by the bookmark and began reading. Occasionally, I would hear soft sighs coming from Edward, or see him reposition himself comfortably against the wall. I'd smile to myself, but continue reading.
We stopped for lunch, and I excused myself long enough to use the restroom - where I noticed my knees were now bruised - then heat up the vegetable lasagna I brought for us to eat. Edward's eating habits remained the same, but regardless of the fact he was a lax eater, at least he was eating. I certainly couldn't complain about that. I finished before him and waited to continue reading until he, too, was finished.
He placed his near empty plate beside him, then leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting down to the book. I chuckled, then picked it up and began reading again. Reading was a pastime of mine, so spending hours doing so wasn't out of the ordinary for me. When the book was good, I found myself lost within it like I, too, was experiencing what the characters in the book were – which is exactly what I was doing, until I heard snoring.
My eyes instantly lifted from the book to Edward. His hands were resting in his lap, head bowed forward, chest rising and falling with even breaths; he'd fallen asleep. Sleeping like that, it couldn't be that comfortable, but I had no idea how much sleep he'd gotten the night before, and I didn't want to risk interfering with sleep he might really need.
I settled the bookmark inside the book, marking our page, and placed it inside my tote bag, pulling out my iPod to take its place. I circled around slowly, bringing my bag with me, then scooted back toward the same wall Edward was sleeping against, keeping distance between us just in case. I took one final look at Edward to make sure he was still sleeping before I leaned my head back against the wall, inserted the earbuds into my ears and turned on my iPod.
I think I know what's on your mind,
a couple words, a great divide.
Waiting in the wings, a sparring spite,
crawling out the foreground from behind.
Even though you're the only one I see,
it's the last catastrophe.
Place your bets on chance and apathy.
Take anything you want, it's fine.
Keep up the slow life for the night.
Dont take it back, I'll just deny
this constant noise all the time.
I sat there, listening to the music, staring ahead of me into nothingness for quite awhile. This was meant as a form of relaxation to pass the time while Edward slept, but, of course, the tone of the song only served to help further plague me with Edward's words. He'd been abused, but to him, it was punishment; his medicine. It's obviously what he was led to believe. These thoughts forced me to imagine what he must have experienced.
Even though you're the only one I see,
it's the last catastrophe.
Place your bets on chance and apathy
to the wind in front of you.
Even though you're the only one I see,
it's the last catastrophe.
Place your bets on chance and apathy
to the wind in front of you.
Even though you're the only one I see . . .
Imaginations can run rampant, filtering in pictures that leave you speechless, even marred. So it wasn't exactly surprising the images that flickered inside my head turned my stomach. But it was the face of the little boy with green eyes, bruised and cut, screaming out apologies to lessen or stop the beatings that made my sensitive stomach that much angrier. I had to cover my mouth to hold back the bile, scrunching my eyes against the vivid images my mind's eye saw. It hurt my heart to have such horrible pictures inside my head while knowing what I was thinking was possibly mild in comparison.
I quickly changed the song to something more upbeat, forcing pleasant thoughts inside my head – like Charlie, Emmett, Alice and moments with Edward that left me feeling like I'd won a Pulitzer – to flush out the bad ones. I sat up, turning to my left, and shuffled through my tote bag to find the book. As soon as I pulled it out of the bag, I started reading from the beginning. Even though I'd read the book before, I refused to read past the part Edward and I were now at without him.
The change helped, and the tension that crept inside my bones dissipated. I found myself relaxing, a little too much, as I continued reading.
I should have known to keep my eyes open, to not allow myself to get too relaxed, because I ended up falling asleep. When I finally woke up, I sat upright abruptly, yanking the earbuds from my ears; the book was now resting in my lap half opened. I immediately glanced toward Edward, who was awake, watching me. "I'm sorry," I told him. "I shouldn't have allowed myself to fall asleep." I glanced at my watch, seeing it was nearly seven. I'd slept much longer than I should have, not that I had intended to fall asleep to begin with. "I'm going to have to go soon."
I placed the iPod beside me, noticing his eyes locked right on it. "That's my iPod," I explained His head cocked to the side as he surveyed it. I gripped it within my hand again, his eyes followed my movements. "I'm not sure if you've seen one before, but it plays music. And these…" I held up the earbuds. "You put them in your ears, and when the iPod is on, you hear music coming through them."
His eyes slightly widened in appreciation, his tongue sweeping out to lick his bottom lip, as he continued staring at my iPod. "I don't…have…" He shook his head.
"It's okay," I told him. "You can borrow mine." His head snapped up, and he appeared hopeful. I smiled at him. "I don't mind."
I showed him where the on/off button was, then gave him a general explanation of how to use it. I extended my arm to hand him the iPod. He hesitated, eyeing the pocket-sized device, then grabbed it from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine. The moment our skin connected, I felt an electric current stream up my arm. And by his gasp and the fact that he pulled his hand away, glancing at his fingers then back to me, I knew he must have felt it too. "Bella," he breathed.
The way he said my name intensified the sensation to the point even my lips tingled. I pressed my fingers against my lips, bewildered by what I just felt. This was beyond the warmth I experienced previously, it was more acute. What the hell just happened?