Forbidden to Remember
Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; my life after Edward Cullen.Forbidden to remember; my life after the accident. Bella happily immerses herself in her hallucinations of Edward until her lack of concentration results in her riding off a cliff. Three weeks later she finds herself in hospital with amnesia. Bella can't remember who she is, who her friends are, why she looks so ill or who this Edward Cullen guy is. All she can recall is her life starting after her regaining consciousness in hospital three weeks after the accident. She knows Charlie is hiding something about her old life, but what she can't put her finger on... B/J and B/E. A story about destiny: Will a change of events affect Bella's final decision of who she should choose? 21.06.11 CHAPTER 12 "CONFLICT" IS UP!! I'M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY, I CAME ON TODAY TO SEE WHAT WAS TAKING SO LONG TO VALIDATE AND NOT ONLY HAD THE CHAPTER GONE THROUGH, IT WAS MISSING THE STORY TEXT -.-" I AM SO SORRY BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE ~ SparklyCullen
Edward gets his wish; Bella living her life like he had never existed. But when he drops in to find Bella happy with Jacob, should he walk away or make his presence known? Will Bella ever regain her memory?
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AND SUDDENLY I WAS FLYING, cutting through the air like a sharp cleaver through meat. It was not a love for motorcycles or adrenaline rushes that had me attempting to ride a “death trap” as my father would put it, but what the adrenaline provided; Edward cursing my actions silkily in my ear. He was yelling at me now, telling me to go home to Charlie, to stop being so reckless and stupid. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t made me promise to keep myself safe; I would have topped myself if I didn’t feel so responsible for Renée and Charlie. But then again I wouldn’t be here on the motorbike if he hadn’t broken his promise first.
I listened dreamily to the hallucinated Edward’s infuriated velvet voice, trying not to remember, just to feel. Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; my life after Edward Cullen.
Out of the blue I heard a distant roar, bringing me back to my senses. I realised I was riding into the wooded area surrounding the sandy area where Jacob and I were riding our bikes, leaving Jacob behind. It was a miracle I hadn’t hit a tree yet.
“Bella!” bellowed Jacob and my hallucinated Edward simultaneously. “Brake!”
Panic began to spurt in my body like boiling water spitting out of an overfilled pan. I tried to reach the handbrake without taking my hand off the steering, but my clenched fists tilted the handle bars, throwing me off to the left. I tried to straighten up but the bike caught a small moss covered boulder. I could hear the roar of Jake’s bike as he tried to catch me up, but I was too far gone. I was on the tarmac of the road, surging me further towards the edge of the cliff where I had watched Sam Uley and his cult cliff-diving hours earlier.
“Bella!” cried Jacob as he was forced to brake to prevent himself following me over the edge.
“Bella, you have to brake!” snarled Edward, his volume increasing. Realising that a small cut didn’t matter compared to death, I slammed my foot into contact with the back brake.
I took off, soaring over the handlebars, like an eagle in flight. I dove down gracefully towards the water, no longer in control of my direction as the raging sea threatened to swallow me whole.
“Bella! No!” cried Jacob from far above me.
“Bella!” Edward was suddenly there too, his butterscotch eyes tortured, his marble skin glittering faintly in the sun, his auburn hair rustling slightly in the non-existent breeze. He was so beautiful; how thankful I was that I could still remember his exquisiteness even after months of trying not to remember.
Edward, I thought as I plummeted down through the empty air, my stomach turning in the g-force as efficiently as if I were a washing machine. Edward Cullen, I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you!
The last thing I heard was my screaming in dread as the jutting cliff face drew closer and the beginning of a sickening crack as I plunged into the rock.
The darkness - instant, smooth and black - took over. It was like my numb state returning but much more powerfully than before.
Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; my life after Edward Cullen.
Forbidden to remember; my life after the accident.
Urgh, what had happened? My head ached painfully, and as I moved it, the whole world swirled around. I felt groggy like I’d dropped my brain in a vat of warm, thick, sludgy mud. My eyes fluttered open and bright white light leaked in between the cracks. I lifted my arm to block out the blinding light when I heard a man speak to me.
I looked to the left, my eyes adjusting from the darkness. A man in his forties was seated on a small blue plastic chair. What was left of his brown curly locks were mussed, like he had just woken up after a long, restless night. He was white, brown eyes wide; relieved but wary, tired yet alert. He was wearing a crumpled, short sleeved police shirt and creased black trousers. A thick sheriff jacket lay over the back of his seat, but it dropped to the floor as he leaned forward towards me. I blinked, automatically shifting away.
“Bella!” He heaved a heavy sigh. “How’re you feeling, honey?” I looked over my shoulder, expecting a woman to be standing behind me, but instead there was only an aged man in a wheelchair and a young man in his twenties, both with russet skin, both with long black hair, both watching me with ancient, confused eyes.
“Bella?” I looked back to the white man. His forehead was furrowed, his gaze full of despair. “Bella, can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?” I stared back blankly. Who was he talking to?
“Jacob, call a doctor or a nurse,” spoke the man in the wheelchair to the young man he was sitting nearest to, an unquestionable sense of authority clear in his voice. “Tell ‘em she’s awake but not responding to any questions.”
The young man glanced at me, his face devastated with concern. He rose to his feet and left the room, inclining his head to fit through the doors, his glossy black hair shimmering attractively in the electric lighting.
“Bella, please, talk to me!” The white man grew paler, his voice cracking under the strain of not crying.
“Charlie, give her a minute, let her gain her bearings,” advised the old man huskily, looking at his friend with a reserved expression.
I glanced between the two of them as the officer nodded reluctantly in defeat. He looked so heartbroken; I couldn’t not try to help.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him sadly, his head snapping up in response.
“Bella?” Hope filtered into his expression.
“Bella?” His answer confused me. “Who’s Bella?”
The hope evaporated, his expression became overcome with anguish. I looked to the other man, hoping for enlightenment.
“You’re Bella,” he murmured quietly, rolling closer, patting my hand which was lying absently on the sheets beside me. “Can you remember anything?”
I thought carefully. I struggled to recall what came before the black. Had anything come before that? Was this a trick question?
“I... remember... waking up just now?”
The man to my left sobbed loudly, but the other ignored him. “Do you recognize any of us, Bella?” I shook my head. “Do you know your name?”
“Bella?” I asked carefully, wondering if it was me who they kept referring to as Bella.
He cracked a small smile. “That’s because I just said it, right?”
I smiled in response, blushing slightly at being caught out. “Yeah,” I admitted, embarrassed.
He nodded to himself and looked me directly in the eyes. “You are Isabella Marie Swan,” he told me in his gravelly voice. “You’re eighteen years old and your birthday is the thirteenth of September. This is Charlie Swan.” He waved a hand to the white man. The man, Charlie, looked at me with bloodshot eyes and nodded his head. “He’s your father and Chief of Police for Forks. You live with him in Forks, which is in Washington; the forty second state of the United States of America. Your mom’s called Renée, but she and your dad are divorced, so she lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her new husband, Phil. Get that?”
I thought for a second, thinking over everything he said. I nodded with conviction.
“Good,” he smiled proudly.
“Who are you?” I asked, curious.
“I’m Billy Black,” he stated boldly. “And that lad who left a few minutes ago is my son, Jacob. We live on our own in La Push, the reservation near Forks. My wife’s dead and my two daughters have left home.”
“Oh,” I muttered, taken aback by his blunt statement of his wife’s state. Charlie began to complain, but Billy raised a wrinkled hand to stop him interrupting.
“She’s got to find out sometime, right?” He asked, obviously not expecting an answer. “You attend Forks High School and your best friends with Jacob – who is?” He smiled, testing my attentiveness.
“Your son,” I answered swiftly. “The man who left a few minutes ago to get a doctor.”
“Right,” he said, a smile brightening his features. “But he isn’t a man yet, Bella. He’s only sixteen.”
“Sixteen?” No sixteen year old could be so big. Even a man in his late twenties couldn’t match him.
“Yup,” grinned Billy. “Big, isn’t he?”
I nodded, surprised, wondering if Billy was lying to me about Jacob’s age.
“-she opened her eyes and had a look around, but when Charlie started asking her how she felt, she didn’t answer.” Jacob entered the room with a small white man with wispy white hair. I listened intently to Jacob’s voice. If you could remove the anxiety, it sounded gorgeous; a deep, husky and warm tone, like the texture of bark. His beautiful, smooth russet skin was striking; his black, silky hair was beautiful. He instantly brought warmth to the room, though I presumed it could be even warmer if he was at ease.
“Hello, Charlie,” the doctor nodded in Charlie’s direction. “I see Bella’s conscious at last!”
I listened silently, watching the man as he leaned down and shined a light into each of my eyes in turn. He pressed his cool fingers against the inside of my wrist, nodding his head at a steady beat whilst staring fixedly at his watch. He straightened up and talked to Charlie again.
“She seems in fine physical condition at the moment,” he said, ignoring me. “Jacob has said she’s having trouble communicating...?”
“Well,” Charlie began, clearing his throat before continuing. “Billy started talking to her just after Jake left and she’s talking back.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the doctor in pleasant surprise, appraising my watchful stare. “Good evening, Bella.”
“Good evening,” I repeated shyly.
“I’m Doctor Gerandy; I’ve been looking after you for the past couple of weeks. Do you remember what happened?”
I hesitated, trying to recall anything, but after a few seconds I resigned and shook my head.
Dr. Gerandy glanced at Charlie and Billy. “We haven’t told her yet,” said Charlie, still upset over my current condition.
“Well, Bella, you were very lucky to walk away,” smiled the doctor kindly. “You were in a motorcycle accident. You were with this young man in La Push, and you used the back brake, which resulted in you flinging off the bike and over the cliffs, isn’t that right, Jacob?” Everyone looked to Jacob, who winced gently.
“Yeah,” revealed Jacob, his brown eyes meeting my eyes. I couldn’t remember what I looked like, but what he saw made him smile slightly. “Gave me a good scare, Bells. I can promise you we won’t be doing that again in a hurry.”
“I should hope not,” growled Charlie dangerously, his soft kindly features distorting under the fury. “You’re forbidden to ride another motorcycle in your life, Isabella Swan!”
“Ok, Dad,” I replied immediately, frightened. Charlie didn’t seem one to be super strict, so he must really hate the idea of bikes to speak so viciously. He didn’t answer, only nodded stiffly, his features warming at my use of “Dad”.
“Sam Uley heard me yelling for help,” continued Jacob. “He’s one of the guys on the rez, and so he and the others came running. Embry ran to phone an ambulance while Sam and Jared climbed down the cliff to help you. Paul stayed with me so we could help raise you up and here we are!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling awful. I really liked Jacob – it felt like an instinct to like this man or boy or whatever he was. I was automatically drawn to him and hated the thought of forcing him to save me.
“Don’t worry about it, Bells,” smiled Jacob friendlily. “I wasn’t fussed about riding the damned bikes any way. I’m just sorry yours went off with you after the money you spent on them.”
“What money?” asked Charlie staring at me in shock. I shrugged bewilderedly, looking at Jake for further enlightenment, but his head was bowed guiltily as though he’d just said something he wasn’t supposed to.
“What money?” demanded Charlie again, more forcefully. Jake looked up, trying to conceal the regret that soaked his body language.
“Err, it was just the spare cash she had aside for any truck repairs,” lied Jacob. “But when I said I’d do the manual work free she decided to spend the extra fixing up the bikes.” Charlie was no longer pallid; his face was beginning to flush with fury but Jacob sidetracked him masterfully with a promise that the bikes were already listed on eBay and the top bidder was up in Canada.
Doctor Gerandy continued to prod me gently, testing my reflexes as he simultaneously tried to trip start my memory, without much triumph.
“Perhaps some home videos?” suggested the doctor to Charlie. “A photo album, a favourite CD; something that holds some strong memories for her could prove successful.”
“Good job Renée sent that album over, eh Charlie,” winked Billy. “She did fill it, right?”
“Yeah,” murmured Charlie distractedly. “She showed me the pictures the day she had them printed. Hey, doc.” Dr. Gerandy looked up.
“Yes, Chief Swan?”
A long pause followed as Charlie seemed to make up his mind. “No,” he replied. “It doesn’t matter. I guess I need to bring that photo album in... When’s she allowed home?”
“Hmm, well judging by her reflexes, she should be fine to go in the next couple of days,” he mused. “I want to run a few more tests before giving her the all clear, check we haven’t missed something.”
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked. “Except for the memory thing?”
“You had a few broken ribs, but they’re mostly healed now,” explained the doctor, his grizzled eyebrows contracting in thought. “You have a broken arm, so you’ll need a sling for another few weeks, yet. A couple of broken fingers, a fractured kneecap and severe bruising as a result of the internal bleeding you had originally, but we fixed that as soon as you came in. For the next few months you’ll need regular check-ups and you’ll probably experience a sense of fatigue hanging over you for a month to a month and a half, as well as aching limbs and joints.”
“Oh,” was the only reply I could form.
He smiled. “It sounds a lot but you actually got off quite lightly. Most people would have lost the ability to speak, their key skills, be suffering permanent injuries or even death, whereas your worst case scenario is the occasional day in a wheelchair so you’re mobile even when you’re too exhausted or sore to walk and even that will probably only span the next couple of years.”
“Oh,” I repeated. I considered everything he said. When I focused my concentration, I could feel various parts of my body aching like I had been run over by a truck several times in a row. “Where am I supposed to get a wheelchair from?” I asked, looking back to the doctor.
“It’s alright, Bella,” growled Billy. “We got you covered. I’ll have Jacob deliver one of my old ones to your place for when you get home. That way you won’t need to spend a fortune on something you’ll only use once in a blue moon.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully, relaxing slightly.
“Yeah, thanks Billy,” agreed Charlie gruffly as Dr Gerandy exited the room to help somebody else. “I don’t know what I would have done without you here the past couple of weeks.”
“You’re welcome, Charlie,” dismissed Billy with a wave of his hand. “Jacob would have dragged us here anyway, so it was better to use my time doing something useful when I was denied a TV.”
Charlie laughed half-heartedly. “Let me know if I can do anything to repay you, Billy.”
“Will do,” he answered, stretching his arms and yawning. “Come on Jacob, take me home. It’s been a long day.”
Jacob began to argue, but Billy interceded. “You owe me, Jacob,” he said, looking his son directly in the eyes, hinting at something deeper. Jacob sighed and stood up.
“Fine,” he muttered, defeated. He reached out and squeezed my hand gently. His hands were so warm and mine so cold that I wanted to hold on, but he pulled away and wheeled Billy out sullenly, dragging his feet.
“See you tomorrow,” called Billy cheerfully as the door swung shut behind them.
“Bye!” Charlie and I echoed. Charlie sighed, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes. I decided to follow suit and allowed my eyes to drift shut.
“Bella?” I opened my eyes again.
Charlie smiled lovingly. “Hey, Bells. It’s been a while.”
“How long has it been?”
“About three and a half weeks now.” Wow, three and a half weeks. I had no memories to compare the length of time with, but I knew it was nearly a month, which was about twelfth of a year. A long time. Probably.
“You don’t remember anything then, Bells?” asked Charlie, concern scrunching his forehead again.
“I remember today...” I muttered, feeling useless. I’d lost eighteen years of my life; my whole life had disappeared due to a motorbike accident. Forbidden to remember; I guess that’s what my life’s like now.
Charlie sighed. “Your mom’s coming down to Forks tomorrow.”
“My mom?” I asked, thinking. “Renée, right? Lives in Jacksonville with her husband... Phil? Phil’s my step-dad?”
“Yeah,” said Charlie. “Any idea what she looks like?”
I thought for a while, trying to use logic to work my way around the amnesia. “Me?” I guessed.
Charlie laughed. “Sorry, Bells, but you look more like me.”
“In what way?” I asked, wondering fearfully if I was balding too. I looked down and noticed a long strand of matted brown on my shoulder. I picked it up between my fingers and realised it was connected to my head. “I have brown hair?”
Charlie’s face screwed in temporary pain. “You can’t remember what you look like?” I shook my head helplessly, trying to avoid witnessing the pain I was causing my father, instead concentrating on the hair in my hands. I had ghostly white hands attached to fragile, skeletal wrists. Charlie stood up but I ignored him as I continued to explore my identity. I noticed that on one hand there was a crescent shaped scar. I ran my fingers over it gently. It felt cold. How strange.
“Hey, Dad, how did I get this scar on my hand?” I asked Charlie looking up. He was standing half out of the door.
“Hmm? Oh, that!” exclaimed Charlie in recognition. “You got it last summer when you- err.” Charlie stopped himself suddenly, looking away from me.
“You, err,” Charlie hesitated as though he was trying to think quickly. “You went to see your mom in Phoenix, Arizona where you grew up, but you forgot she’d moved to Jacksonville, so you – you, err, stayed in a hotel for a couple of nights while you waited for the next flight home and as you came down the stairs in the hotel with your luggage, you tripped and went through the glass window. You were in hospital for a while.”
I nodded as though I accepted his story, but something nagged me in my head that Charlie was lying to me. I felt as though I was only getting half a story, and even that was a lie. I shrugged it off as Charlie thanked a nurse and held out a mirror in front of me.
“This is who you are,” said Charlie. “Isabella Marie Swan, my daughter.”
I stared at my reflection, stunned into silence. “Bella,” Charlie began to sound worried again. “What’s wrong?”
“I look so ill,” I said, reaching up to touch my pale hollowed cheeks and faded purple bruises under my eyes. “I look like I haven’t eaten for ages! Not just three weeks!” My long wavy brown hair hung limp and greasy against my face and down my neck, barely reached the bottom of my shoulder blades.
“You, err, weren’t exactly in the best condition before, Bells,” said Charlie shiftily again as though he was twisting the truth. “You were just starting to get better after a few days down at the Black’s, but that doesn’t matter now, eh? We can make a full recovery here.” Charlie smiled, cheered slightly by the thought.
“My hair looks pretty disgusting,” I said, trying to push it away from my face.
“It used to be really long, but it was easier to manage the operations if they cut it shorter,” informed Charlie. “It used to reach your waist and when they cut it, it was just past your shoulders, but it’s growing back again.”
I had brown eyes; they looked huge, but I assumed they wouldn’t look so big if I wasn’t so undernourished. My top lip was slightly more full than my bottom lip, it’s colour was bleached as well.
“Is there a shower or something here?” I asked Charlie, pulling at my dirty hair. “I really need to clean up.”
“I don’t know, but I’m not sure if you’re supposed to get out of bed, Bella.”
“What’s that?” A nurse asked as she wheeled a trolley into the room. My eyes focused on the contents of the trolley. Food!
“We were wondering if Bella was allowed out of bed for a shower,” answered Charlie awkwardly. “I didn’t think she would be.”
“Sure,” said the nurse cheerfully. “If she feels up to it, I don’t see why not.”
I made to sit up and Charlie rushed to my side to help me up, dropping the mirror on the mattress. The movement drained my energy.
“Although I would suggest she waits until morning,” added the nurse as she rolled the table to me and placed my dinner on it; macaroni cheese, orange juice and an apple. She glanced at my disappointed face and giggled. “Hon, it’s half eleven at night! I’m only bringing you dinner because you’re conscious and it would have gone to waste otherwise!”
I grumbled mentally, as I began to eat. It felt so good to fill my empty, shrivelled stomach. The macaroni cheese was lukewarm, the apple slightly bruised, but I ate it all, even gnawing on the core for the extra nutrition.
I wasn’t quite full, but my lids were beginning to droop, and as Charlie began to lie me down I didn’t object.
“’Night, Bells, see you tomorrow,” he whispered in my ear.
“’Night, Dad,” I murmured as the black washed over me again.