Folktale

Chapter 4

Bella's P.O.V

He's sitting up, propped against some pillows that keep him leveled. Head down, brows scrunched together, lips pressed into a fine line as he concentrated on what he was doing. His hand scribbled madly over the notebook he has on his lap. I notice his hair is a mess, like he's been running his hands through it all day and has left it completely untamable. It's... attractive. My presence goes unnoticed at first until there's a click behind me. I turn around quickly. Carlisle has shut the door, he basically threw me in the lion's din.

Fuck.

He's looking at me when I turn back. I'm instantly nervous, to the point where my hands begin to sweat and heat starts rising inside my body. I can't concentrate on what I'm doing when he's looking at me with those eyes... those deep green eyes. His eyebrows scrunch again as he continues to look at me, or more like stares, like he's trying to see right through me. I try to lighten the mood with a smile, but I'm pretty sure it came out more like a grimace than a smile. What the hell am I supposed to do?

I force my legs to move to the chair beside him bed. His eyes never leave me as I slowly walk toward the chair and drag the chair closer to his bed, making an awful screeching noise of the wood against the floor. There goes another grimace. I sit down, keeping my head down and let my bag on the floor. It drops, making a loud noise. Are you fucking kidding me? A chuckle makes me look at him. He's trying hard not to smile, but it's there, and it really is a sight to see. The way his lips curl up, how the lines of his face change, his eyes lighten up. The act alone seems to take him off guard as well because as soon as that smile comes, it goes.

"I'm a little clumsy," I tell him. He nods and looks back down at his sketch pad. "What are you drawing?" He looks at me again, this time with curiosity. I shrug apologetically. "I thought you were drawing something... you don't have to show me if you don't want to..." it feels really odd to be the only one talking. In the modern world, it's impossible to hear your own voice above anyone else. Moby is still looking at the sketch he has on his lap. He picks it up and turns it to me. "Wow..."

It's another sketch of me. This time I'm facing him, I have a furrowed expression with my hair flying over my face and shoulders as if I was in the wind. I'm not gonna lie, he is a great artist. I look at him. He's avoiding eye contact, like he's embarrassed of the drawing. I pull the drawing Carlisle gave me from my pocket and open it up, showing him that I have it. He looks surprised that I do.

"Carlisle gave it to me," I tell him, looking down at the drawing. "I think it's really good. I like it." Still no change, he doesn't say anything at all. "I'm-I'm Bella. My name is Bella. Well, my full name is Isabella, but I go by Bella." 

His eyes snap back to mine. "Izzy..."

Did he just speak?  The way he said it sounded more like a sound one would make than a name, does it still count as speaking?

"N-no, it's Bella." I correct him as gently as I can. "Is Izzy a family member? Someone who we might be able to contact?" He shakes his head. I scoot closer to his bed now, probably scaring him more than he already is. "I know this is all difficult for you to process, but we want to help you. No one is going to hurt you, they want to catch the person who did this to you. Do you have any family? Someone we might be able to get in touch with?" Another shake.

I fall back against the chair. What now?

How about you start by asking him his name?

Okay, lets try this again.

"I've been naming you randomly from the day you got here," I say. "Yesterday you were Nathan, today you're Moby." There it is! A smile. It's crooked... almost too perfect. "Can I at least know what I can call you? Because if not, I'm going to get more creative and tomorrow you're gonna be Dick."