TW: Abuse and Graphic Violence
It's a dream. It has to be a dream. It has to be.
I didn't have to open my eyes to know that it wasn't. The first thing I was aware of upon my slow ascent into consciousness was the aching in my head. Whoever had snatched me had put me in the trunk. My head bounced with every bump, shooting a fresh jolt of pain through my skull.
I opened my eyes. The trunk was dark, but I could perceive the darkness around me, swirling worriedly and concealing me in the shadows without my bidding. I knew that the shadows were a defense mechanism, but right now my power was going to be the very thing that damned me.
Demetri couldn't track me when I was hidden, and the shadows weren't about to leave, even at my command. I let out a groan, wishing I could take the gag from my mouth, but my hands were bound behind my back. I couldn't even feel my phone in my pocket. I was completely, absolutely defenseless.
I had no idea how long I was unconscious or how long my captor had been driving. I screwed my eyes shut, praying that I would wake up in my bed. The car hit a particularly bad pothole and my head slammed against the floor. Sparks erupted behind my eyelids and I sunk back into darkness.
When I woke again, the car had stopped. I could feel my heart drumming wildly in my chest as the car door slammed. Footsteps headed towards the trunk. There were tears in my eyes. The trunk opened. It was still dark out. I knew who it was, of course I did. He haunted my dreams and walked my reality. He grabbed my arm, yanking me out of the shadows, but what remained still clung around my mind, as if that would protect me.
Blue eyes met blue eyes, and my father smiled at me. It wasn't a kind expression. "Welcome home, Rowan."
He yanked me out of the trunk so harshly that, when he stepped smoothly out of the way, I fell flat on my face. With my feet bound, I had no hopes of balancing. I could feel warm blood as it trickled out of my nose.
"Pathetic. Get up," he snarled, hauling me to my feet. He dragged me across the lawn and up the stairs of a dilapidated house. Did he live here?
"I'm going to take out your gag, now. Say anything and you'll regret it, understand?" he snarled. His face was very close to mine and his breath was rancid. I nodded quickly, feeling tears fall from my eyes without my volition. He pulled the gag from my mouth and my breathing came out in sharp, punctuated gasps.
"Shh, Daddy's here," he said tauntingly, pushing me towards the radiator on the far side of the room. He fished out a keyring from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs that he had around my wrists. I knew better than to try anything.
"How did you find me?" I whispered as he handcuffed me to the radiator. He chuckled as he walked away with slow, deliberate steps. From his pocket he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a drag from it. He hadn't smoked when I was with him.
"You are a very difficult girl to find, Rowan. So imagine my luck when a friend of yours posts a picture from her graduation. A picture with you. It was oh-so-easy to find you after that. Though I must say, that new family of yours did a good job of hiding you, and it was so hard to get you alone. What's your new surname, again?"
It was clear that he was expecting an answer. I swallowed. "Cullen."
"Cullen." He sneered the word before backhanding me across the face. I cried out as my head hit the radiator and my vision fuzzed before coming back into focus. "That's not really your name, now is it?"
"No," I whispered, pressing myself into the radiator, try to get away. There was nowhere to go.
"What is your name, Rowan? Why don't you tell me your name?" he asked, crouching down beside me. My eyes stung when he blew smoke into my face. "Your. Name."
"Ailes," I said, my voice strangled. "Rowan Ailes."
"Tell me why you're here, Rowan Ailes," he murmured in my ear. Smoke hung around us like a haze.
"Because you kidnapped me," I said, before I could stop myself. Stupid, stupid! I knew better than to mouth off.
"Now, that doesn't sound quite right," My father said, twisting my wrist in his grip until I cried out. "Why are you here, Rowan Ailes?"
"Because I killed my mother," I gasped out, pulling my wrist to my chest when he released me.
He took a final drag from his cigarette. "And don't you forget it." And then he pressed the still-lit cigarette into my arm and laughed as I screamed.
He left for a while after that, and didn't return until the sun was about to lift above the horizon. I had spent the time alone trying to dispel the shadows, which clung to me in response to my fear, and tried to free myself from the handcuffs until my wrist was raw. He was drunk when he entered, staggering around blindly, a half-empty bottle of beer still in his hand.
"I'm so glad you're back, Rowan," he slurred, hurling the bottle at my head. I cringed away as it shattered against the wall above me, showering me with glass and beer. "I missed having you around."
They're looking. They have to be looking. That was the only thing that kept me from losing hope completely.
"Didn't you miss me, Rowan?" he kicked me in the torso, and I let out a strangled grunt as my lungs seized. He kicked me again, and I felt one of my ribs crack. "DIDN'T YOU?"
"Yes," I whimpered, curling up on myself as much as the radiator would allow. I coughed, feeling blood in my mouth as he kicked me again and again.
"That's what I thought. You know you deserve this. And now... I have all the time in the world to make sure you don't forget," he leered, grabbing my face in his hand. "You took everything from me. Now it's time that I return the favor."
Stay alive, stay alive. The thought drummed in my head like a rhythm. "Please," I whispered. He liked it when I begged.
My father chuckled. "Too late for that, Rowan. Far too late. And may I say... you look just like your mother."
And then he smashed my head into the metal of the radiator.
When I woke again, my father was sitting in the only chair, smoking. He held a knife loosely in his other hand. His blue eyes were glued to me, and he smiled unpleasantly when our eyes met. "There you are. Thought you were dead there, for a bit."
The world tilted and my stomach rolled. The sun filtered in through the filthy windows. How long had I been gone now? Twelve hours? More?
"I wasn't worried, though. You've always been a fighter." He walked over to me, pressing his cigarette into my arm. I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry out. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
He chuckled and flicked the cigarette away. "Stubborn thing, aren't you? I see the Cullens have been good to you. Interesting folks, those Cullens. I found some very puzzling things, I'll tell you. What can you tell me about those things, Rowan? They're dangerous, aren't they? A little, shall we say, supernatural?"
Something within me snapped. He could beat me, insult me, ridicule me. I could take it. But this was different. He was a threat to my family now. My father walked over to me, crouching down by me once more, his chin brushing against the side of my forehead. "What can you tell me about your new family, Rowan?"
Advice from Felix rang in my ear. "Any vampire worth their salt goes to the throat for the kill. Fastest way to kill a human if you get them in the right place. Bite them in the carotid and they've got two minutes, tops. But the loss of blood pressure has them on the ground in seconds."
I had laughed and wrinkled my nose. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I have to make sure you're a decent hunter, don't I? Can't have you go drinking from the arm and embarrassing us all."
I knew what I had to do. "Well?" My father growled in my ear. He had a knife pressed to my chest, right above my heart.
I turned towards him. The knife nudged over, tip pressed against my shoulder. "You're right."
"On which point?" he asked.
"We Cullens are dangerous." And then, before I could stop myself, before I could think about what I was doing, I sunk my teeth into his neck.
The rustic tang of blood permeated my mouth as I jerked my head away and spat out flesh and blood. Dimly I heard his gargled scream and felt the knife as it plunged into my shoulder. And then he slumped forward, blood gushing from the fatal wound. I couldn't look away as he bled out, as the life left the blue eyes that were the same shade as my own.
I spat again, blood still coating my tongue and teeth, feeling sick. I was covered in his blood and did my best to kick him away. I could feel the knife in all its agony now, embedded so deeply in my shoulder that I knew I couldn't risk pulling it out without dying of blood loss myself.
My breath came out in ragged, painful gasps. I had just killed my father. I had just murdered my father. I swallowed back bile and rested my head against the cool metal of the radiator. As my adrenaline and fear faded, I began to feel the full extent of my injuries. The knife in my shoulder was the least of my problems. I could feel several of my ribs as they moved in time with my breath, broken from my fathers kicks. My skin was puckered from cigarette burns and my head ached.
Things blurred in and out of focus. Perhaps it was the shock catching up to me, or the concussion. Even with my foggy thoughts I knew I had to stay awake. It wasn't good to sleep with a concussion.
Minutes ticked by as I struggled to remain conscious, and I realized vaguely that the shadows that had huddled so tightly around me had dispersed with my father's death. I missed the shadows, they were safe. Comfortable. Where were they?
The door splintered as it banged open, but I didn't even have the strength to raise my head anymore.
"He's dead!" A vaguely familiar voice shouted.
Someone crouched in front of me, lifting my head so that I could look at him. Santiago's face swam in my vision. "Hey, kid. Stay with me, alright? You did quite a number on him, huh? We're here now, we've got you. You're going to be just fine."
"Get her on that table." I recognized Carlisle's voice, strangely urgent, and I wondered why. What was so important? Oh, right. Me. I was... injured?
"She's spacing out, Carlisle," another person said. Edward, it sounded like. "She has a concussion."
There was a metallic snap before I was lifted and carried a short distance. My stomach rolled with every step. I was placed carefully on a flat, hard surface.
"Thank you, Santiago. Call the kings, tell them we found her," Carlisle said, clicking on a flashlight and pointing it directly in my eyes. I grimaced and tried to wave him away. "Sorry, Rowan. I've got to do this."
"Carlisle, she needs a hospital, look at her pupils," Edward said seriously.
"I agree. Plus, I can't treat this knife wound here," Carlisle said. Dazzling stars appeared in my vision and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"She's about to lose consciousness," Edward said, his face looming above me. "Ro, you have to stay awake, okay? It's important that you stay awake."
"Can't," I whispered.
"Try," Edward said. "I know it's hard, I understand."
"I'll-" My voice died as darkness spotted my vision and Edward's face dissolved into nothing.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ 𝕍 ⋅.} ────── ⊰
"She was lucky." A voice filtered into my ears. It was crisp, factual. A woman's voice. "...serious, but no swelling. She should be awake soon."
"Will she remember everything?" I recognized this voice: Carlisle's. "Severe concussions can cause amnesia."
"It's hard to say, Dr. Cullen. We really can't answer that question until she wakes up," the woman said.
There was a light knock on the door, and I recognized Demetri's voice. "They're here."
"Take me down, I want to speak with them. Thank you, Nurse Franklin. Let me know if anything changes," Carlisle said.
"Of course. Excuse me." A door open and shut.
"She's waking up," Edward said. "I can hear her thoughts."
"Good. Call me if you need anything." Carlisle said. I heard fading footsteps as he too left the room.
Edward?
"I'm here, Ro. Are you in any pain?"
My brain was sluggish. No. I don't think so.
"Good. Take your time waking up, alright? Don't rush it."
Don't think I could if I, uh... wanted. Finding words was more difficult than usual.
Edward laughed lightly. "Alright, then. The kings are on their way up, they just arrived."
I heard. I twitched my fingers, curling my hands into fists. Everything felt slightly stiff and heavy, like after sitting in a car for too long. Carefully, very carefully, I blinked my eyes open. Someone, Edward perhaps, had dimmed the lights. Still, they swam unpleasantly in my vision.
"I'll turn them off," Edward said. My eyes tracked him as he moved to the entrance of the room and shut off the lights completely. "Better?"
"Yes." My voice was scratchy. I could still taste blood in my mouth. Blood, why was there blood? Something had happened. There was a man, and a baseball bat, and... and... blue eyes. Like mine. My father! The memories hit me like a rogue wave.
"Edward, I-" My voice came out strangled.
"You did what you had to, Ro. That's all," Edward soothed, perching on the edge of the bed and squeezing my hand. "We understand."
But I murdered him.
"Self-defense, Rowan. Nothing more."
But-
Edward shook his head. "No buts. You did what you needed to survive. He wasn't your father, anyway."
I don't understand.
"A father is someone who protects their children, loves them, watches over them. Fathers don't hurt their children, Rowan," Edward said. "Your real father is currently with Rosalie in the waiting room."
Emmett?
Edward's lips quirked into a smile. "Who else?"
You're right. As usual. There was a pause. So what's the damage?
"Cracked skull, a severe concussion, one cracked and three broken ribs, and a badly sprained wrist. Not to mention the stab wound in your shoulder, which will require several months of physical therapy to fully heal."
You should see the other guy. I smiled slightly as Edward laughed. We glanced towards the door as Caius's furious voice carried down the hall.
"I don't give a damn if she was on that damned wolf reservation, Carlisle, this is completely-"
Edward pointedly cleared his throat as Carlisle entered the room, followed shortly by the three kings. "She's awake."
Edited 4/19/2021