A/N: It's so good to 'see' you all again. Thank you for reading and not telling me I suck, yet. ;) It's still unbeta'd. Sorry.

Stephenie Meyer owns it all. And stuff.

The last time my father spoke to me was 3 days ago.

I'd come home from work, physically and mentally exhausted. I just wanted to pull on my sweats and crawl into bed. Instead, I found my father sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the white stick I'd tossed out just that morning.

There was no denying it was mine, so I didn't even bother. I hadn't even reached the point in my thoughts where I considered telling him, but it was now here.

Suddenly, every emotion and thought I'd been trying to hold back all day hit me like a tsunami. Anger, fear, and sadness surged forth, seizing my lungs until every breath was a ragged sob.

My father just sat there, watching me break down, without comment. His face was impassive, almost stone-like in its stillness. I wanted to beg and plead for him to listen, to let me explain what I could, and ask for his help, but most of all, for his forgiveness.

But I just stood there helplessly and cried.

He pushed his chair back suddenly, the sound of it scrapping against the floor causing me to flinch and begin to back away. He'd never hit me, but in this instance I wasn't so sure.

"I wanted so much more for you," he said.

"Daddy, please..." I wailed, but he just shook his head.

"You have 4 days to get out."

Since that night, I've made sure to be gone while he's home and I'm pretty sure he's been doing the same thing.

Unfortunately, today, we're both here. Other than running to the bathroom for morning prayers to The Porcelain Goddess, I've been in my room. But I have to get ready for my shift soon and he doesn't seem to be leaving.

The smell of bacon and coffee is begins to infiltrate my room making me both hungry and nauseas. Hunger wins, and I'm down the stairs and filling my plate before I can think twice.

My mouth is watering, but as soon as I place the hot, greasy bacon in my mouth, my throat tightens and I gag. My dad pushes his plate away muttering, "Jesus Christ".

I take several deep breaths and try not to glare at him through my teary eyes. I just want the bacon and some support from someone would be nice, too. At this point, I can't even stop the tears to save my life. They well and spill over in continuous rivulets that drip onto the table in front of me.

My father stands and removes our plates from the table before moving to the living room and turning on the TV.

I've been dismissed.

With only an hour left before my shift, I hurry upstairs to finish gathering the few important items I can fit in my bag. I text Angela to let her know I'm leaving soon, and then deny her returned offer to pick me up. I already have to ask for her couch, I don't want to be too indebted to her. As I make a last sweep of my room, my eyes land on the small snow globe my mother sent me for my 16th birthday. Inside the glass, a large castle is nestled among rolling hills and pink ceramic roses climb the base. She'd written a long note about princesses and white knights and how she'd finally met the love of her life and she was living in Jacksonville with him.

I threw away the note but kept the snow globe because, until a few days ago, I believed in fairytales and I knew that one day I'd get mine.

I wind the key on the bottom and listen to the song play out until the last slow, distorted note hangs in the air. Then I open my palm and watch it shatter on the ground at my feet.

My bag is by the door and I'm cursing my keychain while I struggle to wrangle the house key from it. My thumb is red and the nail is cracked before I finally give up and toss the whole cluster onto the entry table.

Fuck it. My earlier sadness has morphed into a fiery anger and I curse hormones and this day that needs to be over already.

I'm grumbling under my breath as I yank open the door, but my eyes go wide at the sight before me.

Edward and Emmett are standing on my father's porch.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper and frantically look over my shoulder towards the man in the recliner. It's too late, he's seen them too.

"Go ahead and come in gentleman," Charlie calls wearily from his chair. He doesn't want to talk to me about any of this, but he's apparently willing to talk to them. Nice.

Edward gently pushes Emmett to take a step forward. He steps around me, staring at his shoes the whole time. In my mind, I stick out my foot and laugh as he falls, face first, into the floor. It's totally immature, but I can't help wanting to see him hurt as much as I do and in a way that he can understand.

Instead, I follow them into the room and do my best to get out of everyone's way.

My dad Charlie is not a large man, but his presence can fill a room. That, combined with the reason we're all here, makes it hard for me to breathe.

Edward holds out his hand to my dad, but he just stares at Edward who then begins to shift uncomfortably. Edward changes tactics now and offers me the jacket I left behind last night.

I take it with a quiet thank you and we all stand together, silent and awkward.

"Sit", Charlie barks, causing Edward and Emmett to immediately drop onto the small couch behind them. Edward looks over at Emmett expectantly.

I pace quietly in front of the window, shooting glances between my father and Emmett. Edward catches my eye and tilts his head as if to ask if I want to sit. I quickly shake my head and continue pacing while chewing on the side of my thumb.

Edward kicks Emmett's foot and he finally raises his eyes, his demeanor is obstinate. It's obvious he's here against his will.

Charlie is not impressed. "Well?"

Emmett shrugs. "Abortions aren't cheap, but I can pay for half."

I give an astonished cry and stop pacing at Emmett's callousness. I hadn't even considered the option despite losing my place in Charlie's home.

"Well, what do you want from me? Don't I have a say? Did you drop this on me thinking I'd be happy about it?"

"Fuck you!" I told you because I thought you had a right to know. I don't even know what I'm going to do right now, I just... I just needed some fucking support. Now you've all made me late for work."

I don't bother looking back as I cross the lawn lugging my duffel bag and heading towards the only thing I have left.

I'm ten minutes late for my shift, and Aro is pissed, until he sees my face and the large bag I'm dragging behind me. He wisely steps aside before I can run him over on my way to clock in.

As soon as Angela serves her table, she meets me in the back room and folds her arms around me, holding me tight.

"I thought you were going to call me last night, after..."

"I know," I sigh into her shoulder, "it was so bad, Ang."

"My place is yours. We'll figure this out."

I sag against her in relief. I knew I wouldn't have to ask, but it's still nice of her to say it first. I pull away and give her the best smile I can manage, which makes her laugh.

"Maybe we can persuade Aro to find something for you to do in the back tonight so you don't scare away any customers."

I snort. It's probably a good idea.

"Thanks, Ang."

She smiles and gives my hand a quick squeeze before she pulls me through the swinging doors.

Later that night, as we sit together on her couch picking through a take-out container from work, I tell her everything.

Talking about it doesn't make it better, but it doesn't make it worse. Right now, I'm just glad that I finally have someone to look out for me.