a Twilight's End

Sasha



I was late. I had been lost in thought walking home from school, and it was a long walk. My father didn't think I deserved my own vehicle; even if he could afford one, he wouldn't let me have one. I knew he was afraid of me leaving and finding some better life. He wasn't far off. I would be sorely tempted to do so, and I fantasized about it on a daily basis. Because I was lost in thought, I had taken a wrong turn and walked a mile in the opposite direction. By the time I got home, it was over an hour after school had let out, and to my parents this was unacceptable. I tried to slip discretely into the back door, but my parents were already seated in the kitchen along with my younger brother, Joshua. The tension in the room hit me like a stench. "What's going on?" I asked nervously.

Joshua was holding an ice pack to his head and gritting his teeth in pain. "Josh, are you okay?" He glanced at our father, then averted his gaze from mine. "I would be, if it weren't for you," he whispered. I wanted to cry. I knew my father had told him to say this. When one of us did something "wrong" he would use the other sibling to employ guilt tactics. He knew the emotional punishment often outweighed the physical one, at least with me. I had a sinking feeling, though, that my father had caused whatever injury my brother was currently suffering from. My mother straightened in her chair and glared at me. "Josh hurt himself, and we've been waiting for you to show up so we could take him to the emergency room." I shook my head slowly. "Why didn't you just go without me?"

My father stood up. "Don't question your parents." He looked at my mother. "Take him to the hospital," he said curtly, "and tell the doctors exactly what I told you to say." My mother snatched the car keys from the table and grabbed Josh by the arm. Josh stared at me plaintively. "I want Sasha to come with me," he said, his voice wavering. My father walked toward the fridge and pulled out a beer. "Sasha has to stay here." I glanced at him with trepidation, then tried to give my fourteen-year-old brother a reassuring look. "I have homework I have to do, Josh." I touched him on the shoulder. "You go take care of that head, okay?" My mother tugged him from the kitchen and out the back door. My father latched it shut.

I picked up my backpack and started to make for the stairs. "You stay in here." I froze in my tracks, my back to him. He was blocking the doorway. I wouldn't make it past him. If I could, I would run to the next house and bang on the door. Maybe people here would care if their next door neighbors were in trouble. I put down my backpack. It was a dead weight. I could sprint. He might be drunk already, he usually started in the early afternoon. A large hand clamped down on my shoulder. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." He spun me around. "You think you can waltz around doing whatever you like? Come home when you feel like coming home? Huh?" He gave me a shove and I fell back against the wall. I stared at the block of kitchen knives. Five feet. Just had to cross the distance five feet. It would be self-defense. It would be a long time coming. A hand suddenly entered my field of vision; I could hear it striking my face but I couldn't feel it. At first, a numb stinging, then the pain. Not enough to bruise, or bloody. Not enough to let the world know. Just enough so people could sense something was not quite right.

Another hard slap. He was working himself up. Tears stung my eyes but I willed them not to shed. Not for him, not in front of him. Animal. He knelt down before me, tugging my hair so my face was level with his. "You think just because you're livin' in a new town, that you're hot shit? Wearin' these fancy clothes your aunt bought you." He tugged at the material of my sweater. "You look like a cheap slut. All that is going in the trash, you hear me? You wear what I buy you." He doesn't buy me anything. Then he smiled. "You wonder why those boys at that party acted like they did?" My heart stopped. I stared up at him as he stood, appalled. I barely noticed that he had a fistful of my hair in his hand. "Because you were just asking for it!" He aimed a kick at my ribs, not enough to break anything. Just enough to knock the wind out of me. I already couldn't breathe. How could he bring that up? He was evil. I wished him dead, I wished so hard...He was just standing there, staring at me with an almost satisfied look on his face.

He took another sip of his beer, wiped his mouth, pushed back his hair. "It's your turn to make dinner."



Edward



I entered the emergency room and spotted the white labcoat and blond hair straightaway. Carlisle. I approached him casually; everyone working there knew I was his "son". However, my purpose was anything but casual. "There's something wrong with Alice," I told him, my voice low. "When she attempts to feed, she screams in pain and clutches her head. Carlisle, these aren't just headaches she's suffering from." Carlisle met my eyes, his own full of concern. His expression was troubled. "Where is Esme?" He picked up a clipboard from the front desk and entered the sliding doors into the triage center. "She's with Emmett and Rosalie. Jasper is keeping watch over Alice. She asked for him to stay with her." Carlisle nodded somberly. He pointed to one of the rooms. "I have to take care of this boy. His wound isn't grievous, but there is something not right about the mother's story of how he was injured. Come in with me, will you? I might need to employ your talents."

I followed him into the small, well-lit room and was shocked to see a very young boy who looked remarkably like Sasha, except his eyes were a chocolate brown and rounder than the girl's who had caught Jasper's attention. Carlisle sat on a swivel stool and motioned for me to take a seat in the corner. "Hello," he said, glancing down at the clipboard, "Mrs. Pender. I'm Dr. Cullen." He turned toward what had to be Sasha's younger brother. "You must be Joshua." The boy nodded. His eyes darted nervously toward me. Carlisle noticed this and gestured toward me. "This is my intern, Edward. He is only here to observe." Mrs. Pender, I now noticed, had Sasha's green almond-shaped eyes, except her face was framed in blonde curls. She was nervous, angry, and desperate to get home. I wondered why. I tuned into the boy's thoughts instead. There was a big disparity between what he said, and what he thought.

"I hit my head. I fell from a tree."

My father hit me with what he calls the "soft end" of the baseball bat.

"I like to climb trees, and there are so many good ones here in Forks."

I hate trees, and I hate Forks.

"My sister usually tells me to stop, but she wasn't around."

My sister is currently getting the crap beat out of her by our father. Please, just let us go home.

I clenched the arms of the chair, startled. I glanced at Carlisle. "I have to use the facilities. Excuse me, Dr. Cullen."

I left the room, shakey on my feet. I hadn't gathered that from Sasha's thoughts. She had been thinking about an entirely different incident earlier. I had to call Jasper. I had caught a glimpse of the Pender's address on Carlisle's clipboard. I would call him. He was closer to their location than I was. If Mr. Pender was the kind of man who would take a baseball bat to his son's head, I knew he could easily go too far with Sasha. I exited the sliding doors and found a spot that would allow reception for my cell phone, then dialed Jasper's number. "Hello?"

"You have to go to Sasha's house. Now."

"What? Why?"

"She's in trouble. Someone is hurting her. Her father. 27 Ryerson Drive. I'll come and keep Alice company."

Jasper must have been hesitating, because I heard Alice moan, "Go. She needs you more."

"Okay, Edward. I'm leaving now." He hung up the phone.