My Beautiful Disaster.

Chapter Three.

When I was eight, I was invited to this birthday party; hosted by one of the boys in my class which I didn't really like - and whom didn't like me - it wasn't going to be fun. I remember standing outside the door, in the pouring rain, with my head stuffed into my hood and a grim smile on my face. His mother opened the door with one of those fake, welcoming smiles that actually reads 'the noise is too much for me, I wish I could get all these children out of my house'. I stepped inside, waving a long goodbye to my father who was sitting warm and dry in the car, ready to drive away. I remember thinking that hopefully this would go really quickly, and then I could go home.

It didn't go as quickly as I'd wanted.

It was only about an hour after I'd arrived that he decided to pick on someone. Yes, he was only eight, but he had a tendency to bully people. His mother and father hadn't taught him that well, and he tended to let his emotions get in the way of the things he was supposed to do. Someone stole his pencil a few weeks before the party, and he'd just sort of… turned. Into a monster. Filled with rage, he'd hurled his eight year old self at the other boy, who eventually had a bloody nose and cuts all over his face.

But that day, the day of his birthday party, was the day he decided to pick on me. He shouted abuse - the sort that boys of eight think are hilariously funny- and I was scared. Of what would happen if I offended him further. So, being me, I ran, tripping all the way of course, only making them laugh harder. I ran out of the house, grabbing my jacket on the way out. I ran along the street, vaguely sure of my way home. My father found me, while I was running around a corner, which happened to be beside the grocery store he was just leaving. Once I saw him I ran right into his arms. He held me close, telling me it was okay. I told him to never leave me again. He said he wouldn't - he'd always be here.

Today, I wasn't so sure of his statement.

I sat with my head in my hands, my elbows on me knees, on one of those uncomfortable light blue chairs they have in hospital waiting rooms. Tears ran uselessly down my worn face, and I couldn't stop them. They just kept running, kept coming. I wish I had a stop button - but I don't. So I keep my face down, so that the people around me don't see how bad I'm feeling. For my father and myself.

I always thought he'd be with me, my father. I always thought he'd be there, to see me grow up fully, to walk me down that aisle I really, actually don't want to walk down, and to hold his grandchild in his arms while me and my husband look fondly over his shoulder. I wanted to have all those moments with him. But now, sitting here, with him in a room somewhere being operated on, I wasn't so sure if he'd be there for those moments. Would he even know I'd been here waiting, or would he go so quickly I wouldn't be able to say goodbye? This made the tears come more fiercely. I dried my eyes roughly with the back of my hand. Raising my head, I looked around the waiting room.

People watching. Something to pass the time.

The couple in the corner, looking down at their hands. They exchange a quick glance, and then look away again, like they are afraid to look at each other too long. He leans over and whispers something into her ear - it seems like it was a loving comment, for she nods sadly, and he puts his arm around her shoulders, she leans into his chest, and they each share a contented sigh. Next thing, the doctor comes up to them with his heels clicking against the laminate, blue dotted flooring. He sits down in the opposite seat and explains something to them both. It turns out to be good news. The doctor slips away as they smile widely at each other, then kiss, and I feel a pang of jealously. Why are they allowed to be happy, when everyone else in this room is morose?

I run a hand through my hair, mentally cursing myself for thinking so pityingly. I shake my head, with no-one glancing to look at me. Then I go back to my time passing game.

There's an old woman in the corner, with her legs crossed at the ankles, and her hands in her lap. She turns her wedding ring a thousand times, probably silently hoping for the impossibly to happen. Her curls fall gently out of the tight bun she has on her head, and she tucks them around her ears angrily. I watch as a small tear courses down her cheek, and I feel instantly sorry for her. Then the door at the other side of the room opens, and everyone's eyes turn to the door, with hope glittering in their eyes. It seems that someone has been looking down on that woman, for her jumps up and rushes as fast as she can at the person I can only presume is her husband. They share a hug, and then carry on out the door. Everyone else shares a smile at the thought of those two people, then they go back to their own worries. I deflect from thinking about mine by glancing at another person.

There's a man, with a briefcase left unattended on the floor. He sits in the seat, with his eyes tuck to the ground. His mobile phone sits in his hand, it's switched off but that doesn't stop him from looking like he wants it to ring. I shake my head, trying to connect the dots of his story. Then everything comes clear when a pregnant woman trudges into the room, tear tracks on her cheeks but a brilliant smile lighting up her features. She goes to him, wrapping her arms around him, with her large belly getting in the way. The way he looks at her is the way you look at someone who holds your heart completely, or so I'm told. I used to see that look with my father - for my mother.

My father.

Images of him lying dead, with a sheet covering his body fly through my head like the speed of light. I wince out loud, rubbing my temples trying to erase the image, and thankfully it goes away.

I turn my head to the door, wanting someone to come through, and somehow my prayers are answered as I see the one person who'd always been there for me. Jasper.

He walks over and sits next to me, taking my hand in a friendly gesture. "How're you doing?"

I shrug, placing my face away from his view. He won't see my tears anymore, he doesn't need to see the pain I go through. "Alright."

"Truly?"

I shrug again, and don't reply. That's reply enough.

"Any news?" He desperately tries to get information out of me, and I hadn't realised how robotic I had become since sitting here, having time to think. This time I turn to look at him, and he glances at my tear stains instead of my face. My lips curve upwards slightly, then fall back down. That's the best smile I can do.

"None." One words answers.

He nods his head, and I think he gets it now. I don't want to talk. I don't want to listen. I just want to go away - to my own little world in my head where nothing goes on except thinking. Where my father isn't on the verge of death. Just away.

Another doctor comes in, and surprisingly he calls my name. My head shoots up along with my body, and he smiles in a way that leaves you more curious than before. He urges me to sit down, and he himself takes the seat on my other side. I feel Jasper lean into my back, trying to get a better listening position at what the doctor is saying.

"Your father has had his surgery done. At the moment it is too soon to know how, or if he will recover fully. We've managed to remove the bullet, but he was shot so closely to the heart that his chances are, unfortunately, slim."

I feel like the doctor has made this never ending speech. My mind has to catch up, take in all the details and it takes me a while to find the energy to nod my head. Once I do, he continues.

"He is currently awake. We're not sure how long for, until he needs to sleep, but right now you are able to see him."

He gives me the floor and the ward number, then sends his apologies and walks through the door he just came in. I sit for a while, locking my brain in gear before I stand up, giving one more glance to the remaining people in the waiting room, and then I walk through those doors too.

Jasper follows me, but as I near the door, I stop and turn around. He reads me well. "Do you want me here, or do you want time to yourselves?"

I smile at him weakly. "I think I'd rather be on my own. If this is… the last time I talk to him… I want to do it by myself."

He nods sadly, hugging me then letting me go and I watch as he retreats down the corridor once more. I walk the remaining steps and look through the small pane of glass in the door, finding my Dad's frail looking body lying on one of the hospital beds, wrapped up carefully in sheets. He somehow hears me from outside and our eyes lock. I open the door, close it behind me and turn around.

"Bella. I'm sorry."

Somehow, his words make me break down again. I cry for him, and fling myself at his bed, hugging him tightly like this is goodbye. "There is nothing -hiccup- to be sorry -sob- for. You've done -sniff- nothing. It was the other man's… fault." I try my best to keep my words clear, but it turns out harder than I thought.

He kisses my hand. His hand is full of wires. "Hush, kid. I need to talk to you."

I obey him. I'll do anything to make this easier for both of us. I nod at him, signalling for him to go on as my curious side kicks in. He smiles grimly at me.

I can see the tears build in his eyes as he speaks. "I know that this may be it for me - the doctors have already explained that. But I want you to know that no matter how much I shouted at you, or how many times I banned you from venturing out the house, it was for your own good. You're my daughter, my one and only child. I love you more than anything. Describing how much a parent loves his kid is the hardest thing to do, because it's something that just clicks when you hold the thing you've created in your arms. It's indescribable, irreplaceable. And I love you, Bells. Always have, always will."

I don't know how I did it, but I managed to listen to his heartfelt speech without crying. So far, so good. But he, apparently wasn't finished. I began to worry, talking made him breathless now. But he carried on anyway, brushing aside my concerns.

"I never thought I'd ever have someone so talented connected to me. I never thought I'd have such a wonderful child, but yet here you are! You've made me and your mother so proud of you, kid. You're amazing. That voice, I heard it all the time I was in that ambulance. You were calling to me, your sweet voice, Bells. You gotta use that."

"Dad, you're obviously still under the drugs." I snorted, it wasn't from the tears.

He slapped my hand a little, with that sparkle in his teary eyes. "I'm not lying, Bells. It's true! Everyone thinks it, just you don't believe it, kid. You've got talent, so much talent I can hardly believe you're related to me!" I had to laugh. "Use it, please. Find a way to get your dream. It's my wish."

I could do two things with the statement. I could promise, and actually try to find a way into the Music Industry, or I could tell him I would and actually not. But I cannot deceive my father. On his potential death bed, I will not lie. "I promise Dad." And I mean it.

He reached into the drawer beside his bed, grabbed something shiny and placed it into my hands, his own hand shaking. I gasp. It was his necklace, his cross. It was the one thing that belonged to him, and he loved it truly. It meant so much to him, and I never thought he'd give it to me. I try to place it back in his hand. "Dad… no." He pushes it back, and I'm not going to fight.

"I want to give it to you, Bella. It was yours for when I died. I'm giving it to you now, just in case. I hope it brings you luck, and joy. I tried to be a Christian, and it's hard. But hopefully, you'll follow it for me." I nod. "Wear it. And if by some miracle I survive, you'll always have a part of me with you, wherever you end up."

A tear rolls down my cheek, and I kiss his hand. "Thank you."

He nods, and then his eyes close. I smile at his frail looking face, and hope he'll survive, because I still want him to be there when I meet the man I'll love.

Little did I know, that time was sooner than I thought.

A/N; People were wondering when Edward was coming in, and I thought I'd answer you here: Edward will be in it soon, but I have to finish this little bit first. It was important to me to have this bit about her father in, so it connects all the dots in the story. But she will come across Edward soon, you just have to be patient. :)

Thanks to everyone who has read so far. I know this is a new thing for most of my regular readers, but I hope it's working. I'm enjoying doing something new.

But for now, until the next update, please review.

:D