Unforgivable Lacerations

Chapter Forty-Two

After telling Edward about the horrific rape that was repeated nine times for the duration of my nightmare in Forks, I quietly escaped to the bathroom, hobbling awkwardly to the door with the aid of the crutches Carlisle supplied. Edward merely watched, understanding the need of being unattended for a while. 

Closing the door gently behind me, still partially in shock, I rotated the faucet to cold, filling the sink with ice cold water- an attempt to calm my nausea. However, when my gaze caught the mirror above the sink, I blindly turned the faucet off and looked at the horrendous scars everywhere. 

The skin on my face was dented. Marked. Faint pink lines were unevenly placed on my delicate skin, seeping down and damaging farther than the naked eye could see. They were like snakes, brutally trying to tear me apart with vicious teeth and poisonous venom. I lifted my shirt slightly, just enough to see worse, where Jacob didn't stop. Merciless. Inhumane. 

Suddenly, my skin started to drop in temperature, visibly growing paler to match the shade of the ceiling above. Tremors rattled my body as my hand unclasped my shirt's cloth and my arms winded around my form. Shivering and confused, I perched myself on the lid of the toilet seat, hearing, in the back of my ears, my heart beat race. 

I feel sick.

Bile rose in my throat just as the unlocked bathroom door opened to reveal a concerned Edward. He didn't hesitate as he strode over, a thick brown blanket in hand, and cocooned me in the material silently, before lifting me onto his lap as he was seated on the lid of the toilet. 

"Edward," I whispered into his chest, slapping a hand to my mouth and stupidly trying to wriggle out of his hold to get to my feet. Edward, whose eyes were already on me, didn't release me as the realization dawned.

I really did feel sick.

But before I could comprehend what was happening, a bucket was placed in front of me as I hurled the small amount of food from my stomach.

I couldn't stop the tears as they flew down my cheeks, head still in the bucket. I felt a cold hand pull my hair back while another hand rubbed my back to soothe me. The flow of vomit from my mouth stopped me from saying 'go away'. I didn't want anyone to see me like this, disgusting and so...vulnerable.

After I had piled the contents out of me, where Edward had hushed me in comfort and kept me strongly snuggled into his lap, the bucket was removed from my vision to be replaced by a wet cloth. I spotted Alice's small figure before she silently rubbed my mouth clean with the cloth and wiped my tears away.

All I could do was shiver. My vision was still hazy from the crying and retching, and therefore, I kept my eyes trained on the opposite tiled wall where the bath was, while the world moved around me. Out of habit, I hid away, burying my head into Edward's chest and the blanket, letting the walls of my mind rise and shut everything out.

Why was it so cold? Too cold.

The chamber I was constantly in, dark, isolated, and abandoned, only allowed me to hear the feeble sound of my heartbeat, its tempo slow and hollow. There was no window of light in this chamber of uncertainty, locking me away with only myself as company. That in itself was dangerous. 

"You know you're disgusting, Isabella?" 

"What's Edward going to think with you being such a whore? I should've sterilized you when I had the chance..."

Jacob. That was the problem with the human mind, it never silences someone merely because they were dead. No, the mind was a torturous thing, one for reminding and reminiscing and...telling the golden truth. Where was 'gut feeling' sourced if it wasn't the mind? And everyone said you should trust your gut feelings. Therefore, shouldn't I trust my mind? Or was that another matter?