Twilight Fan Fiction ❯ Blood Swept Heart ❯ Chapter 1

Summary: Edward Cullen, Captain of the notorious pirate ship the `Midnight Sun' and Bella, a pleasure slave, bought one year before by a Duke in the streets of London. He thought he knew what love was: the scream of innocents as you tear them apart, piece by piece; the pain filled cries of the women beneath you as thrust into them with all your strength, ignoring the snaps of their bones as they give way to your power. She thought she what hell was, that purgatory in which she lived, in too much pain to breath but too afraid to die. But scars run deep, etched into the hearts of those who suffer, and when fate forces them together will it be possible for him to finally except what it means to love?

 

A/N: Special thanks to vengeful betaing all my historical issues and grammar ><

 

- - -

 

“Bella.” I looked up from the book I was reading, smiling at my mother as she stood fidgeting in the doorway.

 

“You look fine, Phil is going to love you.” I paused before adding, “and you're right, this dress is much better than its exact copy in yellow.”

 

“It is not an exact copy!” she snapped. “And for heaven's sake, Isabella, just because you do not care what you look like,” she said, gesturing in my general direction, “does not mean everyone else feels the same!” And with that she turned on her heel, disappearing through the door in a flurry of red and brown lace.

 

“Excuse me,” I yelled, “who was it that bought me this dress in the first place!”

 

“That was two years ago, silly! Fashions change!” The telltale click of the front door signaled her exit. I rolled my eyes before gently closing the book and placing it on the table beside me. Carefully I stood up, smoothing down the fabric of my blue dress before glancing at the grandfather clock on my left.

 

“Still enough time,” I murmured before running from the sitting room into the hall, nearly forgetting to take my hat as I rushed out through the front door into the summer heat. Only too late did I remember my klutziness and soon found myself falling face first towards the ground.

 

That is until a pair of arms shot out and caught me around the waist . . . and chest. I knew without looking who it was. I spun around, and sure enough found myself face-to-face with none other than the infamous Michael Newton . . . who had apparently forgotten that he still had his arm fastened securely around my upper body, namely my breasts.

 

“Mr. Newton.” It was a warning; a warning that was obviously beyond him, since his arm tightened rather than loosened. In the distance I heard the long tolls of the clock tower ring out over the small town, counting down to the hour. And now I was late. My patience about to snap, I reached down, fastening my fingers around his wrist before yanking it away from my body, with apparently enough strength to send him stumbling into the wall a few feet away.

 

Without even bothering to check if he was all right, I turned and walked as fast as safety would allow in the opposite direction, towards the place that he would be waiting, and as by heartbeat picked up, so did my steps.

 

I paused as I passed the bakery, turning my head slightly to look threw the glass. I was already late; I might as well have an excuse. I stretched my hand out to the door, fingers curling around the cool metal of the latch, before stepping in as it opened with a light creak accompanied by the gentle peeling of bells.

 

I looked over at Eric and grinned.

 

“You meeting up with him again?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Guess that means the usual.” He turned, gathering up an on slot of food. “And with the usual I suppose that means his tab?” I smiled, nodding sweetly.

 

After grabbing the multitude of bags off the counter and thanking Eric I turned, heading out the door and in the direction of the woods. I had almost reached our clearing when I heard his voice: “Wow, you've never been this late before. Am I really that boring, or did you get lost on your way here?”

 

I rolled my eyes before holding up the bags. “Yes, Jake, I was definitely lost. Last time I ever do something nice for you.” An emotion flashed across his face, so fast I wondered if I had actually seen it at all, because in the next instant he was back to his normal, goofy self.

 

“Ah, damn, I bet you put all of this on my tab, didn't you? Oh well, not like I expected you to pay for it though but why couldn't you be like those other girls, you know, the ones who would've paid for everything because it they'd have gotten points with my amazingly handsome self.” I raised an eyebrow; he knew woman would have paid, but that was beside the point.

 

“You want me to act like Lauren?” I laughed, “Sure, Jake, no problem.” And then I raised my voice whiny soprano while at the same time attempting to mimic Lauren's nasally tone. “Oh, Jake! I'd love to practice with you, but I can't because of propriety! What would others think should they see me carrying on in such a course manner?” Can I just sit and watch you instead? Your muscles are much more entertaining.” For effect I threw in an obnoxious giggle. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

 

“Point taken.”

 

“Alright, let's get this party started!” I grinned, nodding in agreement, before dropping the bags to the ground and reaching into his bag for a knife. “Ah, come on, Bells, you already rock with a dagger, let's practice sword play today, you still need work on that.” I looked up.

 

“But we have plenty of time to practice sword play later, and besides, daggers are fun!” I whined, pouting. Again that same emotion was there, hiding behind his eyes, the set of his mouth; and again it was gone before I could fully acknowledge its existence. He rolled his eyes.

 

“Humor me.” I stuck my tongue out, reaching for the sword he held in his outstretched hand and backing up, balancing it on my wrist before flipping it to the other and back, like some sort of screwed up juggling.

 

“You know, it just occurred to me that being best friends with the son of the guy who runs the local weaponry is very useful.”

 

He raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Took you that long to figure out?”

 

“I know, says wonders for my intelligence,” I said, knotting my skirt around my waist in a vain attempt to keep it out of the way, before looking up and grinning. “And now to begin.”

 

While we fought, I noted the gradual decline of the sun as it made its way across the sky, adding to the sweat already running down my face, into my eyes, as over and over again we danced the same dance, never varying from the original steps, as if to brand them into memory.

 

That is until he disarmed me, catching the underside of my sword and sending it flying with a simple turn of the wrist. “Damn, you have got to show me how to do that!” I muttered, throwing myself down onto the grass and fanning my face in an attempt to relieve some of the muggy heat. Out of nowhere a roll came flying, hitting me in the face.

 

“Eh, sorry, Bella, thought you could catch that.”

 

“Sure,” I groaned, picking it off my damp skin, before letting my arm fall limply back to my side. “And you better have some water, otherwise you're in trouble” He laughed, throwing me a canteen before stuffing an entire sweet bun into his mouth and swallowing, barely chewing at all. Ugh.

 

We laughed, talking about stupid things that didn't mean anything, joking aimlessly as Jake tried to see how much food he could fit in his mouth at one time. And we stayed like that, in a rare moment of bliss, for hours, far away from the troubles of the world. Or at least that's what I'd thought.

 

“Alright, Jake, but seriously, next time we have to do daggers because I'm sick of being beaten. . .” I trailed off as I finally registered the emotions behind his eyes that he had been doing so well to hide up until that point: pain, sorrow, and . . . guilt?

 

“Look, Bells, there's something I need to tell you.” My heart sank, the happiness of just moments ago being replaced by a frenzied terror. “I'm joining the Navy. This is the last time we can meet; my ship's leaving tomorrow.” I felt his hand cover mine, his eyes pleading for me to understand, to accept his choice. “I'll always love you, Bella, I swear.” He would die, or find someone else, I was sure of it. Once they left for the Navy they never came back, or if they did it was to break the news to their childhood sweethearts, to bring back a new love . . . “I'll come back after I serve my time and we'll be married, just like I promised. Just wait for me, Bells. Please.” But how could I? And with the shattering of my heart, my world went blank.

 

- - -

 

1 YEAR LATER

 

I woke to the sound of rain, hard and cold, drumming against the house, the streets, absorbing all else; leaving nothing but a bleak silence behind. Slowly I moved from bed, unwilling to leave the warmth, and stretched, throwing my legs over the edge and making my way to the closet, not bothering to see which dress I pulled from the rack, nor caring of its effect on my figure.

 

When I walked out the door I barely remembered to put on a pair of shoes, not even bothering to see if they matched the dress. `I'll love you forever,' he said. How could I have ever believed those words? The vessel he had left on had returned three months ago; there was no record of his death, his time had been served. Foolish, foolish girl . . .

 

I rounded the corner into the dining room, sitting down quietly so as to not draw attention to myself, though this was more of habit than actual need. Mother and Phil, I couldn't quite bring myself to call him father, had learned long ago to leave me be when I was like this, and for that I was grateful. And so I ate, not tasting the food, and left, making my way out onto the deserted streets.

 

When I reached the woods I glanced towards the sky, disappointed that it had stopped raining so soon and that I could already see a hint of the sun behind the clouds. But at least I was out of town, far away from crowds that would soon fill the streets, the stores . . . I winced, the mere thought adding to the already throbbing ache in my temple.

 

Pausing, I starred out over the cliffs to the ocean beyond, thankful for the gentle wind that carried with it the heavy taste of salt as it curled around my face, caressing my deadened skin, adding volume to my lifeless hair . . .

 

And that's when I saw it, its sails shocking against the grey of the horizon, its masts seeming to reach to the very skies themselves. And all I could think was `Jacob'! So I turned on my heel, rushing down into the very city I so despised, needing to see his face, hear his voice. But I was not fast enough and already the ship had docked, the sight adding to my adrenalin, lending me speed.

 

But something was off as I hurtled through the outskirts of the town, heading for the docks. In the distance I could make out the faint sound of screams, and already I could see the people heading in my direction, away from the sea . . . and the boat. And with my confusion, I slowed, afraid of what I might see; until I heard it, the alarm tolls ringing out over the chaotic town, and I turned, fleeing in the direction of my house.

 

I yanked aside the door just as it was thrown open from the inside, and I screamed, realizing to late that the face in the door was the one of my mother. Within seconds I was pulled to the parlor where Phil stood, pacing agitatedly before the manner.

 

“Oh, thank god,” was all he said as he rushed over and pulled me into an embrace.

 

“We were just about to come looking for you,” Renee cut in, “We were worried when you didn't come back. Phil's going to take us to a safe spot where we can stay until the raid is ove-“ I almost screamed when the banging of heavy metal against maple started.

 

“Hurry!” I gasped as I felt Renee grab my hand, dragging me out the door and into a hallway, Phil holding tightly to my other, brining up the rear. Until for some reason he let go. “Mom, wait!” I tried to scream, though it came out as only a short gasp. “Phil's not with us!” I saw her look over her shoulder, back in the direction of the parlor, and . . . stop. I crashed into her accidentally, the momentum to great, but still she did not move. She just stood there, staring over my shoulder, her face blank, unmoving, cold. Somewhere outside a cloud moved in front of the sun, darkening the hall around us, casting her face in shadow. And when she spoke I did not recognize her voice. “I'll kill you, you BASTARDS!”

 

Fear of which I could not explain overtook me and I spun, facing in the direction of the parlor only to be hit in the face by something sticky, warm . . . before I heard the thud of something heavy landing a few feet the entranceway; it was then that I knew what was on my face. Blood, his blood, and I could not tear my gaze away from his empty eyes, staring blankly at me, his head to far away from his body . . .

 

But before I had the chance to scream, to cry, to fall sobbing to the floor, I heard it; their shouts, and then I realized my mother was no longer next to me. And all I could do was watch as she threw herself at them, tears, dark and hideous running down her blood stained cheeks as she grabbed the nearest thing to her and began to hit, impale them with it, anything in order to avenge her dead love's life.

 

It seemed like slow motion when she turned, her brown eyes stretched wide with insanity before a saber burst through her breast, staining the silken fabric black. A tiny trail of blood trickled down from the corner of her mouth, dripping from her chin, only to be swallowed up within the darkened folds of her ivory dress, and then she spoke, so quietly I could not hear, but could clearly see the words, spoken on pain swollen lips: “Run, Bella.” And then her face was ripped in half, split as if she was no more than a paper doll . . .

 

Hot hands were grabbed me, pushed me up against the wall, searching through the layers of my dress in order to remove my panties . . . it was then my world exploded into so much pain, so much fear and loss that I could not breath as he moved inside me, that I could no longer weep; it was as if I was no longer there, my body standing numb, unable to move, unable to react to the pain, until finally he burst inside me, sending thousands of ribbons of pain up through my core to my chest, my heart, and in the throws of such agony, finally I was allowed peace, and was swallowed up by the darkness.

 

- - -

 

2 MONTHS LATER

 

All I could hear was the sound of waves as they crashed against the ship and the shouts of the crew as they moved about deck, securing the riggings in an effort to make sure we would not sink; and then rain, always rain. It had been raining from the beginning, since the day I was taken, but that did not count for much, for some had been here longer, and I pitied them.

 

I didn't hear the sound the cell door made as it swung open, but how could I expect to with the wind such as it was, howling across the barren sea. Neither did I care to move as he came closer, expecting me to shy from him; I was too tired. Let the pain be done and over with, I thought and relaxed against the wall, oblivious to the world around me.

 

His hand reached out for me from the darkness, his fingers clenching in the fabric of my shirt and pulling me up before he slammed me back into the wall, pressing into me with his body. He spread my legs and then began fumbling with the button of his pants, taking his manhood out into his hand and positioning it at my entrance. He gave me no preparation before slamming into me, and my already bruised and tired maidenhood wept tears of scarlet as spasm after spasm rocked my body.

 

The boat lurched and he fell, dragging me down with him onto the rough wood of the floor and I flinched as a drop of his saliva landed on my cheek, below my right eye. Then all to soon his mouth found minea and unlike before when I had been able to withhold the nausea, the feel his tongue in my throat was too much and it was all I could do not to wretch in his mouth. I wanted to die, to be anywhere besides here . . .

 

When he had finished with me he left, locking the cell door behind him; and I lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling up above before the disgust finally won over and I threw up, too tired to do anything besides turn my head, though nothing came out except water.

 

It was twelve more days until we would reach port; if the pain had not killed me by then, then surely starvation would.

 

- - -

 

“SOLD!” The voice of the auctioneer rang out over the small crowd and I watched as Jessica was towed away to be presented to the man who had paid for her, the man who was now gladly dropping a handful of coins into the seller's hand, all the while never taking his eyes from her. I liked the way he looked at her, it was so much gentler than anything I had seen before; she would have a good life, not the one she had been planning on maybe, but better than other's that could have come to her.

 

“You're next,” the man hissed in my ear as he pushed me forward up onto the platform, growling in annoyance as the chains around my ankles tripped me and I fell face-first, impaling my hands with the rotten wood. I pushed myself up, wincing as the metal around my wrists dug into the skin. There were light murmurs around the crowd; I would not be one to sell, at least not for much. Who would wish to buy a slave at death's door from starvation? Every bone in my body stuck out, the skin shrunken and taut against them, and my clothes, several sizes to large hung limp on me. The auctioneer pulled me towards him, before addressing the crowd.

 

“Female, age 17, starting at 50! Do I hear 50?” He said nothing about my virginity, it was only mentioned if it was intact.

 

"55!" I knew they wanted to sell me for at least 150, but it didn't seem likely, not with the crowd seemingly unwilling to go past 100, and I didn't blame them; not even I would pay that much for me.

 

"57!"

 

"60!"

 

I looked down at my bruised and bloody feet, already gathering a collection of splinters from the aging platform. 'Greeeeeeeeat, like rape wasn't bad enough, now I had to be a pincushion too.' The sarcasm startled me, I'd thought I'd long since given it up.

 

"65!"

 

"70!"

 

"150!" my body tensed; from surprise or fear I did not know.

 

"150!" the auctioneer's voice echoed across the stunned crowd. "Going once! Going twice! SOLD to the man in the black coat!"

 

And then I was being pulled from the platform and brought over to him just as he was dropping the last coin into the slaver's hand. His greasy black hair was pulled back and his long and bony face leered down at me as he grabbed for the lead chain and pulled me off in the direction of his carriage. As we reached it the door swung open and he lifted me up before climbing in himself. Once he was comfortably seated and the carriage had begun to move he dropped the lead chain and reached for the shackled around my neck, pressing the key into the lock; I flinched at the sound it made as it hit the floor.

 

He leaned closer, ginning at what must have been fear sketched all across my face. I was terrified of his eyes, the way they seemed to glow red with lust, as if they were able to see past my clothes to my scarred and beaten body; a look similar to the man who had stolen me away from my home, who had taken my virginity, beaten me, abused me, sold me; I had thought I could fear no one more than that man, but I was wrong. And I began to weep silent, hate filled tears, terrified of the pain to come as his hands moved to my chest.

 

- - -

 

It was dark, but then again it was always dark. The place where he kept us was underground, far beneath the earth and sun, and made of stone. Occasionally you could make out a noise through the constant dripping of water, a sob or someone calling out in fear during sleep.

 

But most of the time it was only silence.

 

You knew only five people here, and then, only by voice. The cell opposite of yours, far enough away so that if you were lucky you could make out a silhouetted shape through the shadows and the two bordering cells to it and your own.

 

And that's where I lived for the next year of my life.

 

- - -

 

“I'm scared.” I looked over from where I was sitting, pressed up against the wall, struggling to make out the faint outline of the girl across from me through the shadows.

 

I crawled over the rough stone, groping my way to the bars, before pressing my face up against them in order to hear her better.

 

“Why?” It was barley audible, even to my own ears, so I was unsure at first if she had heard me. But just as I was about to ask again, she answered.

 

“He doesn't want me anymore.” Her voice was strained, as if she had been crying.

 

“But that's a good thing; you'll be freed, right?” Silence.

 

“No, I'll be killed. They'll send me to Okasu.” She seemed to hear the question in my silence, for she elaborated. “That's where I would have gone if he hadn't bought me. You don't understand, I've seen what happens there. I've seen what they do to those women. Its not like a normal whore house, they do things to those women, terrible, terrible things.”

 

The full extent of her fear began to sink in as her voice became more and more hysterical and her words began to slur with tears.

 

And I could do nothing but sit there, clutching the bars with shaking fingers, as her sobs reverberated around the hollow cells.

 

- - -

 

I woke to the sound of boots on stone drawing closer. Instinctively I backed up, stopping only once my back hit the wall, flinching as the guards paused in front of my cell before realizing that they had stopped in front of the other girls.

 

There was a pause before the man closer to me swore and a lantern flickered to life, illuminating the cell across from mine in an eerie glow.

 

Shadows danced around the cell as flames swirled and hissed behind smoky glass, and for the first time in my life, I saw what she looked like.

 

My entire body shook as tears poured down my face and I brought both hands up to grasp either side of my head as I fell screaming.

 

She had short black hair, made darker by the extreme paleness of her skin, now tinted purple, and bright green eyes, not yet glazed over. Her naked body was curled into it self in the far corner, tear marks etched into the sweat and grime on her face . . .

 

Disappearing into the fabric of her shirt, tied so tightly around her neck in a makeshift noose that the skin had bruised so severely it had turned black.

 

- - -

 

My naked body lay limply across the bed, showing every cut, every bruise, every mark that that thing had inflicted upon me, my feet hanging over one side, my head off the other; my long brown hair, tangled and seamen filled, rested against the ground, my eyes starring blankly at the ceiling. I was not starving now at least, though other than that nothing had seemingly changed. I was still hurt, bloodied in his games of sex, and my body felt as if it were lying on a thousand knives. One thing had changed though, for I no longer wished for him to grant me death; I knew what it would bring and nothing on earth was worth that pain. I had heard the screams of those he had sentenced, heard the stories, and no matter how bad my life was now, it could always get worse. I was not as brave as Maria; I could not take my own life.

 

Vaguely in the distance I heard shouts, but that did not surprise me: there were always screams in this place, always pain. I closed my eyes only to open them again as I heard the footsteps echoing down the deserted hall, different somehow than the ones that I was used to. The door opened, the slowness of it making me stiffen in alarm as a new type of fear began gnawing at the pits of my stomach. Slowly, I turned my head to the side. Standing before me was a blood-covered god, the paleness of his skin exaggerated by the crimson water that coated his body. Dark red eyes connected with mine and then he reached down, his cold hands wrapping themselves around my neck . . .

 

- - -

 

"I found her on the estate; she's a sex slave. I though you might want her." There was a laugh.

 

"You mean you brought her to me as a joke. Why the hell would I ever want something already used?'The harshness of his voice cut through me, bringing me even farther out of the realm of unconsciousness, my eyes still closed.

 

"And now she's waking up," another musical voice chimed in. "Honestly, Jasper, what were you thinking? You know better than to try and annoy Edward." There was a pause.

 

"Take her to a cell; I'll decide what to do with her later." I fought with my eyelids, struggling to make them open, but already waves of exhaustion were rocking through me; vaguely I was aware of the cold hands that lifted me from the smooth stone floor.

 

- - -

 

I blinked, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes and pushed myself from the floor before freezing. This room was so much like the slavers, too much alike; it was all I could do not to scream. Somewhere in the distance I could hear waves, feel the rocking of the ship; I hugged myself tightly, huddling closer to the wall. Only then did I realize the bruises were gone, that skin that should have been an ugly shade of purple, but were now mark free. I stared at my hands, too scared to realize that the door had opened and a girl was standing there, unsure whether or not to come in.

 

She had pale brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail and a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. When she saw that I had noticed her she took a hesitant step forward before moving farther into the room and closing the door behind her. She set something on the floor a little ways off and came to kneel beside me; again she smiled.

 

"I can't tell you my name, in fact I can't really tell you anything other than you need to do exactly what that says," she said nodding in the general direction of the object on the floor, “and that your life depends on it.” She had a quiet voice, a soft voice, one that matched her eyes. She hadn't bothered to whisper, so when I spoke, nor did I.

 

“I don't unders-…” She pressed her fingers to my lips, motioning for me to be quiet.

 

“I must go, he'll be done soon.” She was already at the door, hand resting on the latch.

“The best of luck to you,” she said, and then she left, leaving the door ajar behind her.

 

I stayed where I was for a while, unsure of what to do before I finally decided to get it over with and went see what it was that she had left. I bent down, unwrapping the thick brown paper and to my surprise found that what it contained was clothes. I did not care that the clothes were revealing, I did not care that only two thin strips of fabric covered my breasts, nor did I even care about the thong type skirt; no, all I cared about was that they were clothes, clothes that would cover my skin, would hide at least some of my body. I found the arm pieces last, I had not noticed them at first for the red matched that of the other garments, but when I did I slipped them on, unwilling to pass up even the smallest chance of hiding more skin.

 

I was not surprised to find that my hair was clean as well; in fact I was expecting it. Who would go to such lengths to heal my body only to leave my hair thick and dirty? It was then I noticed what was sketched onto the inside of the paper, as well as the dagger resting a little ways off to the side. That startled me. It brought back memories, memories I'd thought I'd forgotten, memories of home. It had the opposite effect on me than I thought it would; I thought it would drag me to my knees, I thought the pain would cripple me, I thought I would cry; but instead something inside me snapped, and I laughed. It was cruel, pain-filled, and each wave of it wracked through my body like fire, but I did not care. I sank to my knees and laughed and cried and clutched the dagger to my heart as if it were him, and when I had finished I pushed myself from the floor, rubbing at my eyes with the heel of my hand.

 

I looked down at the map, taking in the directions scrawled neatly across the bottom in charcoal; but I did not want to leave. I wanted to kill, and die, and bleed, and stab. I wanted this one last act of vengeance, for who ever these people were, I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing my tears; I would rip my own throat out before I let that happen. I closed my eyes, reveling in this new feeling, this intense pleasure, before turning on my heel and disappearing into the ship.

 

- - -

 

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