The living room light is on when Emmett pulls up to the house. Anxiety weighs heavily on my chest. The light shouldn't be on. It's never on this late at night.

"Is your dad up?" Emmett asks, his eyes scrutinizing the house warily.

"It looks like it."

He shifts to face me. "I'll walk you to the door."

I shake my head. "No, I'll be fine." Summoning a small smile, I lean across the console, and place a quick kiss on his cheek. "I had an amazing time."

He puts a staying hand on my knee when I open the door. "I would feel better if you let me come in with you."

"It's not necessary," I dismiss. "I'll see you tomorrow." I hop down before he can insist on following me inside. If Charlie's up, Emmett shouldn't be with me when I go into the house.

My trembling hands fumble with the keys. After the second try, I manage to insert the right key into the lock. I wave at Emmett and step inside, closing the door firmly behind me.

Slumped on the couch, Charlie sits, his bloodshot gaze focused on me. "Where have you been?" he questions.

I try to remember the last time we had a conversation.

I can't; I come up empty.

"I left a note," I say, placating.

He snorts. "Yeah, you left a note."

Keeping a bit of distance between us, I shuffle around the couch. "I'm tired. I think I'm going to go to bed now."

Using one hand to push himself up, he lurches forward. "You were out with a boy," he says knowingly.

I start to realize he's not going to let me go. For whatever reason, he's angry with me for having gone out on a date. It doesn't seem to matter that he's never cared about my whereabouts before. It doesn't matter that he doesn't really give a shit about me.

Stalking towards me, he sneers, "Filthy. Just like your mother."

Cautious, I step back. "I was out with a friend."

"I won't have my daughter whoring around," he says as if I hadn't said anything.

When he's close enough to touch, I hold a shaking hand out between us. His breath reeks of alcohol. The sour smell of it causes my stomach to heave. "I haven't done anything."

Twisting my hand, he gets up in my face. "Don't lie to me!"

Cringing, I shrink back as far as I can. "Charlie, please."

"You're no good. Just like she was no good," he shouts, his face wild and contorted.

"Dad," I whimper.

My eyes are closed, so I don't see the hand coming, but I feel it when it connects sharply with my cheek. My face whips to the side painfully. The sting is instantaneous.

He's never once hurt me physically. Yes, he's been verbally abusive. Yes, he's neglected me for as long as I can remember. But he's never touched me with the intention of hurting me.

Swaying, he points an accusing finger at me. "You're not going to be a tramp while you live in this house."

I can't contain the tears any longer. They start to stream down my face uncontrollably. Needing to get out, I make a run for the door, slamming it behind me when I clear the entryway. I race for my truck when I hear Charlie's heavy footsteps following me.

Getting in, I lock the doors, and turn the engine on, all in the same second. My tires squeal as I back out into the street. I drive to school on autopilot, my mind a blank slate. My emotions have deserted me, leaving me unfeeling, emotionless.

Until I'm not.

Sitting in the deserted parking lot, with my head resting on the steering wheel, I sob like I haven't allowed myself to in years. It all comes pouring out of me. All of the anger, all of the pain, seeps out of me mercilessly. I have no control over it anymore.


Emmett's POV

I'm a few miles from my house when I begin to feel like I made a mistake in leaving Bella. She said she would be fine, but I wonder if she was telling me the truth.

Jessica said Bella's dad was a drunk. What if he was drunk tonight? What if I left Bella when her dad was on the warpath? I have no way of knowing if he's an angry drunk. I haven't seen any bruises on her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have any.

The worry continues to grow when I try calling her cellphone and she doesn't answer. I try one more time before making a sharp u-turn and heading back towards her house. I get there, but her truck isn't in the driveway.

I hurry out of the car, knocking loudly on the front door when I reach the porch. On the 6th knock, a haggard looking man opens the door partway.

"What do you want?" he asks, gruff.

I glance through the crack. "Is Bella okay?"

His glassy eyes glare at me. "What's it to you?"

Fear crashes down on me. Not caring about being polite, I push on the door to get a better look inside. "Where is she?" I ask impatiently.

"I don't know, and I don't care," he says, his words slurring together drunkenly. "She better not come back here either. I won't have a slut under my roof."

My hands clench by my sides. The need to find Bella is stronger than the need to knock this man on his ass, so I run back towards my car.

"You tell her she can't come crawling back here. I won't hesitate to smack her around some more!" he yells hysterically.

I thought I could stay calm, but I was wrong. Spinning around, I retrace my steps, and when I reach the foul-smelling man, I punch him in the jaw, sending him falling to the ground in a pathetic heap. "She won't be back. You can count on that."

I jump into the Jeep, and speed down the road, my only focus on thinking of where I can find her.