Twilight Fan Fiction ❯ Bette Noir ❯ Chapter 8 ( Chapter 8 )

Chapter 8

People were calling to her, but she didn't understand their words. Their voices were distorted and sounded far away as though she was hearing them from underwater. She felt lead weighted, her body refusing to move and a strange buzzing filled her ears. Her eyes looked without seeing; shapes colors and figures making no sense to her. She couldn't breathe even though she could feel her lungs expanding and contracting as she panted. Thoughts wouldn't form in her mind. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything around her below her and the strange dark fog that was surrounding her vision filled in to blind her completely as consciousness escaped her.

“Bella!” Carlisle shot forward, catching her as she fell.

Carlisle lifted Bella into his arms, cradling her unconscious form against his chest as he moved to sit down in the black metal folding chair that was off to the side. It had been a week since he had informed her of her father's death and he had thought that she had taken the news fairly well, until now. He had brought her to the small room inside the funeral home that was reserved for private viewings so that she could see her father alone before the actual funeral began. He had stood back, letting her walk up to the open casket alone, while Edward had gone to speak with Jacob Black outside.

Esme had stood at his side, her arm wrapped around his waist from behind as they watched Bella walk up to the casket. Her hands lifted to grip the sides of the polished wood and when she tipped her head down to look inside she started to scream. Her voice wasn't very loud, the scream was breathy and harsh as though she could get her voice to work properly, the word `no' being the only thing she spoke as she hyperventilated and her heart beat a mad staccato rhythm in her chest. It was mere seconds from the time she looked down into the coffin to when she collapsed, but to Carlisle it felt like an eternity.

Looking up from the girl cradled in his arms, he met Esme's eyes, her hand on his shoulder. The same look of grief and worry that clouded Esme's eyes was mirrored in his own. The door of the room opened quietly, the sound of the wood shifting and the metal of the hinges grinding against itself too soft for human ears to detect. Edward stood in the doorway, Rosalie by his side as they both stared across the room at Bella. Carlisle was holding her in a wholly protective and possessive manner as though he was daring someone to try and take her away from him.

“Carlisle?” Edward's voice was soft, if not a bit rough, as he stepped closer.

“I don't think she believed me,” Carlisle said, his voice pained. “I don't know that she would've believed anyone, but when she saw Charlie…”

“Will she be able to handle this today?” Rosalie asked as she stepped further into the small room and closed the door. “It's not just Charlie's funeral, but Renee's and Phil's as well. Should we take her home?”

Esme shook her head, her eyes cast down on Bella's sleeping face. “She needs the closure,” she spoke wisely.

Edward moved closer and knelt in front of his father, his hand brushing Bella's hair back from her face as she stirred slowly. Her brown eyes fluttered open slowly and she lay still for a moment as she came to full awareness. The first person her eyes saw was Carlisle and he watched her brows furrow as though she didn't understand what was happening. She blinked and looked to the side, her eyes catching Edward's as he reached out and took hold of her hand. Her confusion lasted a moment longer until her eyes scanned through the distance between Rosalie and Esme and she saw the mahogany coffin standing silent against the far wall.

“No,” Bella shook her head, the word a combination of a moan and sob as she stared in disbelief at the elegant wooden box that held her father's corpse. “No, no no no NO!”

She wanted to run away, she had to leave, this couldn't be real. Her father couldn't be dead, he just couldn't be. Bella shook her head, struggled against Carlisle's iron hold that was as gentle as it was impenetrable. He had told her a few days ago that Charlie was dead, but she hadn't believed it, hadn't accepted that ugly truth. Now that she had seen his body lying immobile and lifeless inside the coffin everything came to a terrifying and screeching reality. Her mother was dead, her step father was dead and now, so too was her father. In a period of time too short to be true, she had lost everything. She knew that she still had Edward and the family she had found in the Cullens, but her heart demanded to know why. What had she done so wrong as to be robbed of her human parents? What being, what deity thought that this was acceptable?

“Bella, Sweetheart, stop,” Carlisle said as she struggled in his hold.

“No! No! Why?!” she sobbed madly, struggling to be freed.

Her struggles changed. Instead of trying to break Carlisle's hold she had turned against him and began beating against his chest with her fisted hands. He barely felt the hits, her human strength weakened by her grief. He cupped the back of her head with one hand, his other arm wrapped tightly around her back as he held her tightly to him. Her tears were fast and hot, filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks in burning rivulets as she cried. Her hands stopped beating against him, twisting instead in the fabric of his shirt as she pressed her face against his chest.

Carlisle's face was a mask of concern, compassion, and grief as he held Bella tightly in his arms and rocked her slowly on his lap. Her sobs were deep, painful, tearing from her as though she were being physically wounded and the blonde doctor would've given anything to have taken her pain away. Her grief was a palpable thing. The scent of her tears, the sounds of her aching sobs, racing heart and shuddering breaths; she was his daughter, his son's mate and there was very little that he could do to comfort her. Everything that had happened: hearing her mother's last breaths over the phone, seeing her mother and step father's dead and mangled bodies, nearly dying herself while trying to get to her mother and then to the safety that Carlisle offered her, being told that her father was dead; all of it had come to a very startling reality at neck break speed when she had looked into the coffin and seen her father's lifeless body.

Carlisle's eyes met Edward's over Bella's head and he knew then that his son wanting nothing more than to take his love away from the horror this day would bring her. He also knew that his son was reading his thoughts and that his and Esme's firm belief that Bella needed the closure this day would bring was the only thing staying his hand. Carlisle looked down when the girl in his arms grew quiet, her grip on his shirt growing tighter. He couldn't see her face for the way she had it buried against his chest, but he knew she wasn't asleep.

“Oh, baby girl,” Carlisle's refined smooth voice held a note of mourning as he hugged her closer. “I'm so sorry.”

“He was supposed to walk me down the isle,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and soggy with her tears.

“I know, I know,” he told her softly as he rubbed her back slowly. “Bella,” he waited for her to raise her face and look into his eyes. “How are your ribs?” he asked worried that her upset may have left her in pain.

Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him and she bit her lip as she sniffled. She didn't understand the question, it seemed out of place and she shook her head to signal her confusion. He tucked her hair behind one ear and kissed her brow before sitting her back on his knees so that he could see her torso more clearly. The black sheath dress she wore was borrowed from Esme, their sizes the most similar, and the cuffed shoulders left her arms bare. The fabric was thin, the smoothness of the silk lined with a more opaque satin to prevent the garment from being see through.

Her left side had taken the most damage from falling out of her truck and although her accident had occurred roughly ten days ago, she wasn't healing as well as he would like to see. Cupping her left casted wrist gently in his hand, he lifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder instructing her gently to keep it there. Watching her face carefully, he pressed the tips of his fingers over the higher ribs covered by the side of her bra down to the lower ribs of her waist. She hadn't reacted much until he touched her lower four ribs, her sharp gasp and instinctual move to cover her side with her arm telling of her pain.

“Carlisle?” Edward looked at his father in concern as he read the man's thoughts.

She's not healing. There shouldn't still be so much pain, he told his son through his thoughts. After the funerals today, I want to take another set of X-rays. I need to see why she's not healing.

Edward nodded and placed his hands on Bella's back, drawing her attention. He offered her his hand and held hers gently when she placed her palm in his as she stood. He meant to take her into the seating area when Rosalie stopped him with her thoughts and came up to her other side, ushering the girl away from her brother.

“Come on, Bella. Let's get you cleaned up a bit, ok?” Rosalie said gently and led her to the small bathroom that was just down the hall from the room they were in.

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Bella sat stiffly in the first row between Carlisle and Edward. Her jaw was clenched tight against the emotions that were boiling beneath the surface and she focused forward, her wide eyes unable to be drawn away from the large portrait of her father in his dress police uniform. Her left hand, encased in the blue plaster cast, clutched Carlisle's hand as much as the cast allowed, her right hand lay inside Edward's palm, his thumb rubbing gently across the back of her hand in an effort to comfort her. Esme sat on Carlisle's side, Rosalie on Edward's as the four of them did their best to shield Bella from the unavoidable darkness of the proceedings.

The pastor read from the open bible in his hands, opening the ceremony with the traditional passages of remembrance and spiritual ascendance before speaking of his own experiences with Chief Swan. The clergyman spoke with reverence and pride of his fallen friend, telling of the times that Charlie had chosen to ask his assistance in offering counseling to youthful offenders instead of locking them in jail when he had the option to do so. He spoke of her father's kindness, his belief of a higher power though he held no belief in any one religion. His eyes swept over the collection of comrades and friends until his gaze came to rest on Bella. Her brown eyes lifted to meet his gaze when the pastor asked if she would like to take the podium and speak of her father.

Bella's eyes widened, her face paling as her grip on both Carlisle's and Edward's hands tightening as her breath came faster. She didn't know if she could stand up there, talk in front of everyone about her father. Her mind was still reeling; still trying it's best to accept the reality of her father's death while evading the hypnotic spinning of the denial that beckoned her. She couldn't hide behind a false believe that her father wasn't truly dead, not when his body lay less than ten feet from her in an open coffin.

“Bella,” Esme's gentle voice called her attention. “Would you like for one of us to go up with you?”

“What do I say?” she asked, her breathy voice barely more than a whisper.

“Whatever you want, whatever you feel is right,” Carlisle told her, his voice soft, his golden eyes offering her comfort in their compassion.

Bella's brow furrowed, she looked down at her hand held in Carlisle's and she looked up slowly, her eyes looking between both himself and Esme. She wanted them with her, surrogate parents, her future in laws. But she didn't want to Edward to feel that he wasn't enough. How did she ask them without her love feel left behind? Her eyes were drawn to Edward when he lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of her hand.

“It's alright, Bella. You don't need to worry about me, your comfort is what is important here,” Edward told her.

“How did you…?” her voice trailed off, her question unfinished as she stared at him. She knew he was unable to read her thoughts, but somehow he had done just that.

“Because I know you,” he told her gently and released her hand, nodding to his parents.

Esme stood slowly, Carlisle following suit as he held Bella's hand and together they led her up to the podium, standing on either side as she looked down at the tall wooden desk meant to hold a book or papers. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how she was supposed to let her father go when she still needed him so much. Her chest hurt, her heart constricting with the grief and fear that twisted it. She needed her father, he had left her too soon and it wasn't fair.

“Charlie,” she began, her voice barely heard despite the microphone that was angled toward her to catch her words. “He was brave. He loved baseball, a sport that I've never really understood.” She looked up to Carlisle and he nodded once, letting her know that he would stand with her as long as she needed. “He kind of…hated Edward,” her eyes caught his and her love smiled at her with amusement at her words and pride at her ability to speak despite the crushing grief she felt. “But that's how dads are; no one's ever good enough for their daughters.”

Bella was silenced as a rough sob broke from her and before she gave it much thought, she had turned and was being held in Carlisle's arms. Esme stepped up to the microphone as her husband comforted Bella, allowing her to grieve even as he asked her softly if she wished to speak more. Esme's voice was strong, kind as she spoke of her very few interactions with Bella's father, instead telling of her gratitude for the daughter that he had brought into their lives. Carlisle moved closer, Bella still in the circle of his arms, as he too spoke of Charlie and the many conversations that they had had when he consulted for the chief.

They led Bella back to her seat, sitting with her as she gripped Edward's hand tighter than she had before, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Jacob Black and his father, Billy, were the next ones to speak. Bella was surprised by the outward show of grief on both their faces, never having seen her best friend or his father cry before. Billy talked about their fishing trips and many times of watching sports while Jacob talked about how his father and Charlie always seemed to act like teenagers when they got together. They spoke of their favorite memories, of fish fries and football games, and how Charlie would be greatly missed by all.

It seemed to Bella that she barely had enough time to process the ending of one service before the next one began. She watched with wide eyes as her father's casket was rolled out of the room, his picture carried away before two more coffins were rolled into the room, the lids blessedly closed as portraits of Renee and Phil were placed before their respective enclosed eternal beds. There were still a few moments before the pastor would begin the ceremony for her mother and step father and Bella could feel her stomach rolling, twisting as she began shaking.

“I'm going to be sick,” she whimpered.

“I've got her,” Esme said quietly to her husband as she stood and led Bella out of the room.

The emotional pain manifested itself physically and Esme stood behind her in the restroom stall holding her hair back as she vomited into the toilet. Her cool hand rubbed gently over Bella's back and she could help but feel concerned. The girl hadn't eaten very much and was growing thinner because of it. No matter how many times that she and Carlisle or Edward tried to get her to eat a descent amount, Bella always stopped when she had only consumed barely half of what she was given. Bella vomited once more before wiping her mouth with toilet tissue and rising with Esme's help.

The matriarch of the Cullen family stood next to Bella, her arm wrapped around the girl's waist from behind as she offered her a paper cup to rinse her mouth. Was sitting through these ceremonies causing more harm than good for Bella? Esme's concern that Bella's already fragile concern could grow worse showed on her face and the human girl she held to her side tried to smile, but the expression came across as little more than a grimace.

“You have us, sweetheart,” Esme told her, turning and wrapping Bella in a motherly hug. “You'll always have us.

“I'm scared,” Bella's whispering voice whimpered. “I'm really scared, Mama.”

Bella was completely unaware of her slips. She didn't know that she was replacing Esme's name with the familial moniker. All she knew was that she needed this woman now more than anything else. She needed to feel her love, the warmth of her embrace. She needed to not feel alone. It was impossible how warm Bella felt when held by members of her vampire family, the love and affection in their embraces granting her the almost burning warmth of their emotions.

Esme held Bella close, smiling despite the sorrow this day held. She knew, without anyone having to tell her, that Bella didn't know she was calling her `Mama'. She kissed her forehead, rubbed her back before taking her hand and leading her from the small bathroom. As they walked back into the room Bella froze in place just inside the wide doorway, her eyes wide and breath catching in her throat. She couldn't breathe, the room felt too small and her heart was beating far too fast. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything.

“Bella,” Edward's voice was smooth, soft, his hand on her fevered face cool and comforting. “Come back to me, love. You're safe with us, come back to me.”

She blinked, once, twice, three times before her vision refocused and her gaze settled on Edward's face. Her head hurt, but she could feel her racing heart calm and as she looked away from Edward, she found that Carlisle and Rosalie were standing near her as well. It had felt to her that only a single moment had passed, but that couldn't be true if everyone was gathered around her as they were.

“What happened?” Bella asked softly, confused by their growing concern.

“You had a panic attack,” Carlisle told her gently, her right wrist captured in his hand as he checked her pulse. “Your heart rate is returning to normal. “Come, you should sit down.”

They led her back to their seats in the front, sitting with her as the pastor began the new ceremony to mourn the dead. She didn't understand why they were dead. She knew the reasons, the physical explanations of what had happened, but her mind still couldn't comprehend it. Not two weeks ago she had talked with her mother on the phone and watched her father yell at the television during a Mariners game and now, here she sat at their funerals. How had it all happened in such a short time? Why had she lost them? Why couldn't anyone explain it to her? Why couldn't anyone bring them back?

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Bella didn't know how it had happened. One moment she was sitting in the funeral home looking at the coffins that held her parents' bodies and the next moment she was sitting in the car as Carlisle drove them home. Shaking her head in her confusion as the car pulled into the driveway, Bella's lips parted, no sound coming forth.

“Wh-what happened?” Bella asked as Edward helped her out of the car. “When did we leave the funeral?”

“It ended twenty minutes ago, Bella,” Rosalie told her, the blonde's voice holding a note of concern. “You stopped moving or responding just after the pastor finished his opening. Edward had to carry you to the car after it was over.”

“Why don't I remember any of it?” she asked, looking up at Carlisle for an answer.

“It's referred to as a dissociative state. Your mind disconnects from the events around you, either in times of great danger or, as in your case, grief. You will be alright, Bella,” Carlisle promised her, stepping forward to wrap her in his arms. “It just takes time. We are all here for you, should you need to talk or cry or anything else. We are here.”

“Don't leave me,” she begged, not realizing she was speaking her thoughts out loud. “I can't lose you all, too.”

Carlisle kissed her hair as Esme wrapped her arms around Bella from behind and Rosalie and Edward stood at her sides. They surrounded her, enclosed her in their arms, their bodies as each one in turn promised her they would never leave. Rosalie closed her eyes, Edward reading her thoughts and knowing that were his sister able, she would be sobbing. She had been against Bella from the beginning, always believing the girl to be making a foolish choice in throwing her human life away to be with them. But now, after working through her emotions with Kate and Tanya and after comforting Bella, Rosalie's mind had changed.

Her thoughts were no longer envious of Bella or hateful of what the girl was giving up, instead it seemed that she had opened herself up to allow Bella inside her heart. Through the grief of losing her parents, Bella had come to find a sister and steadfast confidant in Rosalie. It was Rosalie who broke the four-cornered embrace first and led Bella into the house. Helping her up the stairs and out of the borrowed dress, she helped Bella change into a pair of elastic banded dance pants and one of Edward's long sleeved t-shirts.

“Bella,” Edward's voice was soft and she looked to where he stood in the doorway. “Carlisle needs you to come downstairs. He needs to look at your ribs, take a few X-rays.”

She nodded quietly, knowing that Carlisle was concerned that she was still in so much pain. Rubbing the back of her sleeve covered hand over her eye; Bella moved closer and let him lift her into his arms. Resting her head against Edward's shoulder, she let her eyes fall closed and felt the peacefulness of sleep overtake her.