No. 1: Bella POV
I always blamed my mother for everything. If something went wrong, that maybe she wasn't immediately related to, I blamed her for it. If I got a horrible grade in school, I blamed her. If I had lost a shoe, or a sock, I blamed her. If I found cocaine in the house…I eventually blamed her, even if it was her boyfriend's.
Even standing above my mother's grave with my silent birth father, I blamed her. I blamed it all on her, it was her fault, and I was never, and will never be the one to blame.
My birth father, on the other hand was something different: I did not know him, I had never met him, and I did not live with him. He lived in some backwards ass town in the middle of no-fucking-where and he showed up for the funeral and expected me to come and live with him.
I expect this living with him to include cooking, cleaning, and generally doing female…y stuff…Well, just look at him! Oh, wait. You can't. How about I describe him? He's tall, at least six feet, porky (definitely has a beer belly), and is bushy and hairy. The only place that man lacks hair, though, is his fucking head. Like, Jesus! He's a balding sasquatch!
Here's the crock that I encountered when I moved to the backwards town: Ooh, her Mommy's dead, ooh, she has family problems, ooh, she's from somewhere else. I wanted to scream, cry, and throw a fit. But I didn't, I blamed my mom.