“You’ve been amazing
and so supportive, kind, and …” I whispered. “I want you to know what happened
to me, Bella.”
“You’ve told me,
Edward,” she said, threading our fingers together.
“Not all of it,” I
grimaced. “I can’t move past all of this if I keep it bottled up. I want … I
need to tell you. You have to know. I want you to know before I tell the
police.” I looked at her, gazing into her espresso colored eyes. “I want you to
know that I trust you and that I love you, too.” She smiled, tears welling in
her eyes. She tenderly wrapped her arms around me and I felt like I was finally
home.
Breaking apart, Bella gave me a tentative smile. “I don’t
want to force you into doing something you don’t want, love,” she said quietly.
“The past eleven years have been nothing but forced
servitude. I want you to know what happened to me. I have to show you if I want
to get better,” I said. “I want you to be proud to be seen with me.”
“I already am,” she said.
“Bellisima, you
and I both know that I’m a fucking mess,” I snorted.
“Right now? Yes, but I want to help you get better,” she
chuckled anxiously. “It will be a work in progress, love.”
I nodded, agreeing with her. “I know that you had your
suspicions about Esme, but what she is; it’s far worse than your most horrific
nightmare,” I muttered. I blew out a breath and looked at her.
“Esme forced me
to do things to her.”
“Forced? As in …” she trailed off, her face turning an
unnatural shade of puce. “She … she …”
“Yes,” I whispered.
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