Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Buying Love Update

Today's my birthday, but you guys are getting the presents: an early update for Buying Love.

Buying Love Chapter 37 on FicPad

Buying Love Chapter 37 on AO3

Buying Love Chapter 37 on FFn

Buying Love Chapter 37 on TWCS

My eyes were trained on the shattered man in front of me. He was on the ground, chanting quietly numerous apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Tears were flowing down his cheeks and he seemed so lost. Rose came in when she heard the slap.

“Fuck me,” she squeaked. “What the hell happened?”

“We were fighting. I kissed him and he wiped his mouth like he was disgusted with me. I slapped him and he fell to his knees, chanting numerous apologies,” I said, feeling incredibly guilty for cause this whatever this is.

“Esme fucked him up, Bells,” Rose murmured, squeezing my hand. I looked down at him, my heart breaking into a million pieces. “You need to get through to him, sweetie.”

“How?” I choked out.

“Love him,” Rose replied, kissing my temple. “I’ll call Carlisle and see if he can help us.”
She left us, walking to the kitchen. I sat down on the floor, staring at the broken, wrecked man in front of me. “Edward, can you hear me?”

“I’m so sorry. So sorry. Please don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt my mother,” he whispered, tears flowing down his pale cheeks. “I’ll do anything. Please … please!

I inched closer to him, placing my hand on his knee. He jumped, pushing back and pressing his body against the wall. “Edward, I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you. Please come back.”
He curled up, hugging his legs. His face was pinched in pain. It looked like he was trying to make himself invisible. “Don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything you want. I promise. Just don’t hurt my mom. She’s all I have to live for. Please!”

“No, Edward, don’t say that,” I sobbed, taking his hand. He clenched his hand into a fist, refusing to move it, but gently I pried it away from his leg, seeing angry awful welts on his wrists. His cuffs were gone and I bit back vomit seeing the damage on his pale skin. “Edward, baby, please, come back to me.”

He hit his head against the wall. “I tried to be a good son. I tried and I failed. I don’t deserve anything good,” he said, taking his hand back and burying his face into his knees.

“You are a good son, Edward,” I whispered. “You are a good man.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, looking up. His eyes were empty, dead. 

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