Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or the character names, however I do own the plot.

Word Count: 3204 Rating: M (Probably...) Content Warning: There will be blood; however this story you will read has nothing to do with sexuality. Summary: After a disagreement between her dad and her, Bella has had to think twice about everything she believed and relied on to save a loved one from pains she went through.

Ruthless: A Hardcore One-Shot Contest

Delusion and Reality

By SpiritOfCarnage

She put her leather gloves on and took the sedative from her school bag before going into the living room where her father was sleeping. It’s been a couple of days since that argument between him and her in the kitchen. She always knew everyone in her family, except her five-year-old brother Emmett, had their own scars from life but she always thought he could understand. She thought that he could accept his wrongs, though, she knew, it hurt.

Bella knew what left her scarred, though she never considered sharing it with her family before. Her mom was so sensitive and paranoid; it would destroy her to think she couldn’t be a good mother to her child. Bella accepted herself, planned a future she can live as the person she is. She didn’t want to change a thing; she was living eventually, had someone loving her with all her mental scars, had her life arranged. It was too late to change; it would only scar her more.

But five years ago, it all changed, she knew she had to change. She wasn’t “the one” anymore and it didn’t bother her. She had to give up so many things. She locked herself in her shell and let her parents give all their attention to her newborn brother. He needed it, protection and affection. It was her way to show him she loved him. She even gave up her father, her hero, her idol. She was alone in the first teenage years. Her mother discovered that she had hypothyroidism not much after the birth, and the condition left her tired, oblivious and depressive. So her father needed to pay even more attention to the baby.

Emmett was growing so fast, and he was just the opposite of Bella, so lively, confident, so amazing that she almost couldn’t see that her parents were making the exact same mistakes they did while raising her. She was angry, so livid; couldn’t they see how it turned out? Couldn’t they see how she was broken? How did reality leave her shocked and lost? They were always talking about how people were cheating, lying, killing; that no where was going to be like home and no one would treat her like they did, as if she didn’t know. So why they weren’t telling to “him”, why they were allowing him to use them, to have everything he wanted, to do everything he wanted to them?

She never heard “no” coming out one of her parents’ mouth in her own childhood either; therefore she also wasn’t able to say no. How could she, little Bella didn’t know how to. She didn’t know when to. How could she “hurt” somebody’s feelings? She’s never been hurt. It was rude to hurt people, right? So why were the other people hurting her, why didn’t they care? Love was the most important thing, right? If you love someone, they would love you back, and if you be good to people, they would be good to you, too. Right? Motherfuckers.

It was a fairy tale world she had at home. She would be the shy, polite kid at school, then she would come home and pretend. Pretend that everything and everybody was great, that she really had friends, that she wasn’t hit by reality, that she was happy. After some time, she lost it. She wasn’t aware what was real and what is not. She just knew that her father was a poetic and delusional man, and he was raising another poetic and delusional child.

She tried, she really tried to make her parents change their ways without really telling how fucked up she was. They were so perfect that it hurt. How it slapped in the middle of her face when her kindergarten teacher shouted at them when some kids didn’t listen to her, or how it hurt that they looked at her like she was crazy when she tried to tell her “friends” about her childish fantasies. Her father always listened to her, even acted with her like they were real. She knew that they would hurt her dear brother, too.

“He knows I’m just pretending!” her father said that night. She could feel the frustration burning inside her. “No he doesn’t,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly, “It will stick with him all his life.” ‘Can’t you see?’ she wanted to shout, ‘Can’t you see what it did to me? Can’t you see what they did?’

“Do you think you’re traumatized?!” Charlie said in a painful, hateful voice; “Do you know what it’s like to be starved?” She knew her father’s childhood wasn’t nice at all, she knew his family had financial problems most of the time, and it have urged him to be who he was, perfect in his own way. He didn’t want them to feel hurt or lacking, but it was hurting even more in time. “I’m not telling you that you’re better than me, just listen to me.” she pleaded, just to have his father’s hateful voice digging into her ears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She knew that it was too late, she could see the denial in her father's eyes and she knew her brother was going to be even more traumatized. He was much more outgoing than she was; he was going to be pushed into himself. But at that point, sitting on the floor of her bedroom, she wasn’t crying for her brother. It was the rejection tearing her chest in half. Her daddy, who listened to her most absurd or philosophical ideas, fantasies, dreams, plans, complaints, concerns; didn’t want to listen to her. Her mom knew where they went wrong, before Bella even started. She was paranoid, she was concerned about silly things most of the time, but she could see things in a way her husband couldn’t.

She told Bella that her father would come around, in the morning, while he wasn’t even looking at her face and taking Emmet out just to get away from an another argument. Renee knew that it was a phrase that they would go through, a moment that they had to live before moving on, and she knew they would be okay again. She knew nothing.

Bella knew that she wouldn’t be able to live knowing that he didn’t listen to her when she needed it the most; he hated her just because she wanted to protect her brother. If he

didn’t care about her anymore, why couldn’t he at least care about her brother, his little son? Her love for her father, her idol, and her protector was replaced with hatred. She was sick of it. She couldn’t think properly. She couldn’t feel properly. She needed to put an end to it or it would keep poisoning her, and then it would be too late to save her brother, too. So, she went to the only person she knew would understand her.

He didn’t hate her; he didn’t leave her when she needed him the most, he understood. Edward held her while she cried herself to sleep the night she eventually admitted what she was going to do. He waited for her at the door while she was convincing Mike, the son of the man who owns the crematory in the Seattle, to give her the keys so she could burn her dog that died in the hospital while dawn was breaking. He brought her the sedative to anesthetize her father. And now he was waiting outside to come in and help carrying his body to her truck.

She looked at the clock on the wall, put a note for her mother onto the side table so she would think that she went walking with Edward in the early morning, and then went to let him in. He didn’t talk; she didn’t say anything, either. He took the body from the couch and put it on the plastic behind the truck. It was a short drive they had. There were only a few abandoned buildings in Forks, but she knew she would find what she needed in the deserted hospital. Edward helped her with the body again, carrying him into an old dentist’s room that he covered with even more plastic on the floor and on the chair. He helped her to strap him to the chair then looked into her eyes. She could see the hurt in them; she knew he wished he could also get his revenge from life. He was doing it by helping her; though, deep inside, he knew he would help her even if he weren’t that depraved.

Once she was alone in the room, she quickly checked the time. She knew the sedatives would give her enough time to prepare him but she also knew that she had only one night. Only one chance, and she had to do it right. She made sure that he wouldn’t be able to save himself from the straps on the chair; then she started taking her tools out of her bag. Not many, just the essentials. It wasn’t like she was going to torture him. She could even laugh at the thought if she wasn’t so occupied by putting the rope through the eye of the needle. No, she wasn’t going to torture; she was just going to make him listen. There wasn’t going to be more pain than necessary.

She carefully took the needle in her hands and started sewing lips together. She wasn’t going to listen to his hateful words anymore, telling her she knew nothing. He was going to listen, and before dying, he was going to know where he went wrong and if he wanted he could fall into his eternal sleep peacefully, thinking that he wasn’t going to be able to ruin his son’s life. The gloves were hindering her movements, and they were getting wet and slippery with blood, so by the time she finished sewing he had already started to wake and whimpering with pain. She knew the taste of blood in his mouth and the pain in his lips would wake him up when the sedative started to wear off, but she wanted to wait for him to be conscious enough to make judgment. Or else telling him where he went wrong wouldn’t make sense.

While he was waking up, she took out some other essentials; a hammer, a rope saw, a roll of trash bags, and the duct tape. She checked the time again, though she didn’t need to, to know that he was sober enough to be aware of his surroundings. She knew he heard her footsteps behind him, he was trying to open his mouth, but his muffled screams were telling both him and her it wasn’t as easy as it seemed in the Saw movies. She walked in front of him without touching him,

she needed him conscious for what she was about to do and touching him would only freak him out. “We’re living in a mad world Dad, you should’ve known better.”

She sat on the wooden stool in front of him and looked him in the eye. He was looking exactly like the man he relied on; he wasn’t that man anymore. She knew they were alligator tears that were rolling on the sides of his face, and it was only irritating her more. “Where should I begin, Dad? It’s a really long story. But first, let me tell you something. Tonight, I will talk, and you will listen. I will tell you everything I wanted to say that night you silenced me, and more, because this is my last chance. And this time you won’t ruin it; you will sit and listen. And I hope; you will understand.”

His muffled attempt to talk started again; it was like he was trying to say her name. But it was already decided, she wasn’t going to listen. “I told you to shut the fuck up, Dad.” she shouted; it was so annoying. His incoherent mumblings were only getting her angry. She saw red; she wouldn’t have only sewed his mouth, she would also have cut his tongue. She swayed the hammer in the air and hit. His weird scream gave her a satisfaction; which she didn’t even know existed. The lower part of his arm was broken at the point that was strapped to the chair and was dangling from the side of the chair. Now the tears were real.

“Hush and listen Dad.” Her voice was pained. “This thoughts have been poisoning me since the time they dropped their seeds into my brain. Did you know that I always saw you as my hero? I don’t think so, but maybe you did. I’m not sure.” She took a deep breath, her chest constricted with emotions. “Do you remember when I was little, how we made up games and acted like the characters in the stories you read to me. It

turned out that no other parent did that. Six-year-old kids treated me like I was crazy Dad. I told them about my imaginary friends, they told the teacher that I was a liar. Did you know that? You never told me that you were pretending; you just assumed that I knew. But you were always pretending, how could I define the difference? Do you remember the day I came home covered with dirt? What had I told, oh yes; I told you that I helped someone, right? I went under a truck for some kid’s ball, you know why? Because he told me that he couldn’t get on his knees because his knee was hurt. I believed; yeah, I was naive like that.”

He tried to say a muffled ‘Bella’. “I just started.” she said in an annoyed voice, then whipped the side of his face with the rope saw once. She didn’t have enough patience to wait for him to come out of the pain of another broken bone. Blood bubbled between his sewn lips; she knew the beers he drunk before sleeping that night thinned his blood, and the nylon rope ripped his lips even more while he was trying to scream, and it made him swallow enough blood to make him sick. His stomach was going to try getting rid of the blood it couldn’t digest. She didn’t have much time before his own vomit suffocated him. She could feel the adrenaline in her veins while she started talking rapidly. “You told me that lying was wrong, so wrong, and only bad people lie, didn’t you Dad? You never lied to me, and I never lied to you. So why would he lie? He wasn’t a bad person. Also, how could I hurt his feelings by rejecting his plea, right? Then again, I didn’t know how to either. How could I know, you never rejected me, mom never did. Then there was ‘we should help people’ and ‘please is a magical word’ and a lot more things you tried to teach me. You were really successful, I guess.” Her voice was getting louder and louder; she whipped the side of his neck this time, almost ripping the main arteries open; when he tried to get her attention. “I am not finished.” she growled. She took a deep breath.

“I know that you had a hard time when you were young Dad, but why didn’t you listen? I didn’t want you to change in a day; I just wanted you to listen. You should’ve listen and understand. You always did Dad, what happened that night?” Her voice was strangled and broken with emotions. “I dealt with the reality of life so early; you know why? ‘Cause you raised me so deep, you talked with me like I was an adult when I was only three or four, and you made me perfect in a very twisted way. It’s hard for me to say it; you know why? Yes, you taught me that cockiness was a bad feature, and it sounds terribly cocky to claim that I’m perfect. Even if we both know, now, it only brought me pain.

“You were going to do the same thing to my brother, you were doing it. And he is so different than me, and I just couldn’t foresee how it would turn out, and it scared me to death. I never found myself, or anyone around me, weak but when he born, I saw it. I saw how weak he was, how little. And I had this urge to protect him because he is still so weak against life and he’s not aware, he’s not aware of anything. Dad, how could you do this? Why didn’t you see?!” Her breathing was shallow and fast, and she was feeling dizzy. She threw the stool across the room when she heard his gagging. “Ah shit, don’t die now, I’m not finished!”

She swung the rope saw one time, not caring where it went but it didn’t change a thing. His body was shaking uncontrollably, and his face was in a color between blue and green. When he eventually stopped shaking, his face fell to the side; yellowish dense substance seeping out of his sewn mouth and nose; his eyes rolled back. “I’m not sorry Dad, but you were going to make the same mistake, I couldn’t let it happen. Promise, Mom and I will take care of him in the best way we can.”

She was so content while cutting his body into pieces with the rope saw and breaking his bones with the hammer, packing him, putting the pieces into the trash bags first, then taping to prevent leaking, then into the cardboard boxes and taping again to prevent it from opening. Everything went into the boxes; plastics, hammer, saw, her bloody clothes, her bag, everything. Edward helped her to carry the boxes to the truck; they didn’t have much time, but still, they were both very calm.

Mike was waiting in front of the funeral home, and he was distracted easily with a nicely faked cry. Bella easily made him believe that she didn’t want to see the dead body of her dog, and Mike just opened one of the crematories for Edward to put the “dog” in it. He didn’t see the any of the boxes; he was gone to bring some water to a young lady who lost her best friend recently. Everything was burning to the ashes while the dawn was breaking. After two hours in two thousand degrees Fahrenheit, the damaged metal parts of the saw and hammer could easily fool anyone and look like a dog’s collar.

Bella thanked Mike while he was babbling about helping people and making shitty jokes about “waiting for people to die”. She took the vase and let Edward put his arm around her to lead the way. She was going to throw the ashes to the lake along with the vase; no one would think shy, polite Bella Swan would kill her dad with the help of the small town doctor’s brilliant son, Edward Cullen. So irrational. For the first time in her life, she felt invincible.

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