Stephanie Meyer owns the Characters, i just like making them go through hell.
I have two betas - FashionistaJR & Lauren. I love them, they make this thing readable!
Reviews will mean a lot to me throughout this whole fic!
Still warning you, this shit aint pretty!
I hope that despite that you enjoy this! :)
Chapter 1
That day, my world shattered. My life from then on changed and it wasn't in a good way. It had taken me a while to get out of Charlie what was wrong, and I didn't get the full story. In hindsight, that was probably the best decision my parents ever made. If I was told the full story at the age of 8 I wouldn't have understood it, I would have jumped to the wrong conclusions and made everything a lot worse for both Charlie and I. For the past few days after we'd arrived in Forks, I'd been spending every waking minute of the day with Charlie. He'd obviously been given some time off work as we sat and watched films curled up on the sofa all day whilst mom carried out all the necessary chores around the house- the cooking, the cleaning, and waiting on dad and I's every need.
That day Dad sat me down at the kitchen table, handing me my lunch, he decided now was the time to explain. "Bella, I need you to know that I love you and I'll always love you, okay?" He asked, making sure that I was aware of the fact before he told me the horrible news that was about to follow. "I'm really unwell at the moment, something's wrong with my brain." he continued slowly, grabbing my hand as I looked at him with a stunned expression across my face. "I'm going to fight it Bells, we just need to make these next five years the best we've ever had, yeah?" I felt my eyes welling up with tears as they slowly started to trickle down my face. I had so many questions I needed him to answer; why did we have to make these five years the best? Why not the next ten? I needed to know what exactly was wrong with my dad; I needed to know he was going to be okay.
Much to my disappointment, I was on a flight back to Phoenix the very next day. Renee assured me that I was much better off living with her as dad was going to get better before he got worse. I started to resent her for it; how could these next five years be the best dad and I had shared if I was over 1,500 miles away from him? I saw my dad every Christmas and for a month over the summer for the next four years. It wasn't enough, I missed him like crazy and he phoned me every day to tell me he loved me and make sure I remembered what his voice sounded like. Now I realise that he did that just in case, just in case he never called again. Truth was, he was just as scared as I.
Each time I saw him I noticed a change in his appearance. His body was slowly being covered in new scars, cuts, and bruises; each one from a different time that he had just "fallen over". I didn't believe a word that he said, I knew I was clumsy and I must have got it from somewhere but there was no way he could fall over that many times with that much force. He wasn't telling me the truth and I hated it.
"I should cover my house in bubble wrap." Charlie tried to joke with me one Christmas as we sat awkwardly around the dinner table. Dad always made an effort; he always tried to make me smile even though he knew I was hurting inside. From the moment I found out about his condition, my Charlie was my hero. You never saw the pain he was in, you never saw him get upset, all you saw was the strength and courage he possessed. My dad had every right to break down but he kept on smiling, no matter how much he wanted to try he kept a brave face on, for me, and it killed me that I couldn't do the same.
Every time I visited him I ran straight into his arms and cried. I investigated every inch of exposed skin to look for new bruises or new scars. Each time I did this I saw him sigh; I saw a little part of him hurt even more inside knowing I was worrying about him. My dad started to lose his hair in patches, leaving random bald spots exposed on his head. The later into the five years he started to become more and more tired*, he started losing weight and stopped eating as much. I was terrified, I knew he was going to get worse before he got better but right now I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. When I visited him that summer I had just turned 12. I was old enough to try and understand, to try and comprehend the situation. I needed to know.
One night we sat watching the game. I swallowed my nerves and just asked him. "Tell me the truth dad." I pleaded as he turned to me with a look of confusion. "You didn't just fall that night when I was eight... did you, dad?" I continued. I watched as he slowly stood up from his recliner and came and sat next to me. "No Bells, I didn't, but you have to promise not to be worried, okay?" I nodded my head slowly as he took my hand. "I blacked out, I went light headed, and I essentially fainted- landing nicely on the corner of the steps." I squeezed his hand as I realised all the other cuts and scars must have been for all the same reasons. "For the past five years, I've been having treatment for brain cancer," he continued. "I've been undergoing chemotherapy and radiotherapy which explains the loss of hair. I know that's a lot to take in at the moment, sweetheart. And I understand that this might not make much sense to you but you asked for the truth. I don't want to lie to you anymore, Bella." he mumbled, stroking his thinned hair. I felt a tear escape my eyes and he swiftly ran a finger along my cheek to catch it. "It's been five years now dad," I said reluctantly. "What happens now?
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