I'M LATE! I KNOW! ONE DAY LATE! SO SORRY! SO SORRY! DON'T HURT ME! :)

So to make it up to you... here's an extra long BPOV ! (No Edward this week. It's my fault. I apologize again :D)

CHAPTER 10

I don't know why or how but this situation I have been trying my best- and failing at it- to avoid is slowly, day by day, making its way under my skin. Making it (and me) unbearable and uncontrollable all the
same.

I don't appreciate the unwanted flashbacks my mind idly thinks about every now and then. I don't want to remember the days I was genuinely and authentically content with my life, my friends, actually siding with Phil when Renée was being a total beotch every now and then or the times my bucket would be filled with a scoop of sand every time I'd dance thinking I hit the jackpot- the key to… Stop.

I pull my knees up to my chest and absentmindly take a swig of the whiskey Charlie forgot to lock up or completely forgot about. Either way, it's in my hands, 3/4 done due to my raging need of my escape liquid, my best friend.

Alcohol understands me more than any human being can. I don't need to spill out my life story and end up in depression mode like I seem to be in when I'm alone when it comes to vodka or just plain beer. All I need is a bottle or less and it's like they can read my mind and in a blink of an eye, I'm away from reality in my own world where I can have anything or anyone I want. Whether it be some peace and quiet for a few hours, my own little pony Renée still owes me. Or a place to lose my mind, get off whatevers on by back. Anything I want and I'll have it. Alcohol is my own personal genie and it's glorious.

Unfortunately in reality, Charlie is not in another country for baseball like Phil always is and Charlie's not working overtime or supporting his spouse. In fact, Charlie's outside and I know that because I can hear my rather loud Chevy coming onto the driveway followed by more laughing and a mixture of old and deep voices while the engine cuts short. Charlie is a cop with a daughter who loves the idea of under-age drinking. I will for sure be seeing his shot gun once he sees me sprawled out on his bathroom floor
with an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

Good thing I managed to take it easy tonight. Rehab definitely paid off.

"Bells!" Cop Daddy's voice is loud and clear even from behind the door. Charlie doesn't hover which is one of the many things I love about him- except the bombarding question sessions but that's only
about personal things.

Quickly and rather noisily I pick up the bottle along with myself and drag my half drunk ass to my bedroom where I chuck the glass bottle behind my bed. Thankfully, in my past experiences I have picked up a technique to cover my little happy hour episode.

Code 1: Roll my lips like Sharpay Evans, make a spooked face and yell "Ma!" put on a straight face and then walk into my spotlight.

Ok. So I'm a terrible actress- up until Renée booked me- but in my defense, Charlie's a very gullible cop.

"I'm up here!" I shout out and put on a sleepy expression.

Fake sleep.

Brilliant.

"Can you come down here for a second?" I'm standing by my doorway feeling my heart skip a beat. Charlie's yelling. That's no good. I think.

"Uh," I squint my eyes shut and picture a unicorn because it eases me when I feel I'm about to shit my pants. Who knows what Charlie's going to do? "In a second!"

"Now!" he demands and I swear I jumped about an inch or two. Cop Daddy's ticked.

As I'm running down the stairs, I want to slap myself because about a quarter through, I can feel my head pounding and screaming for me to sit the fuck down. Who knew you could get so angry with yourself.

"Calm your horses," I almost slur the words out but cover it with a chuckle. "You might want to remove that tampon shoved up your ass." I add in to lighten the mood but, it's not working.

Charlie's standing in the doorway in his cop uniform looking all manly and powerful, holding onto his belt. But we all know under the dark blue getup lies an old man who spends his free time screaming at a home run the opposing team makes through the TV with a twelve pack of beer that sits right next to him. For him and himself only.

Talk about lonely…which reminds me of freakazoid.

"Oh hey Ch-dad…" I pick up on Charlie's stiffness. He looks pissed. Real pissed. Like… real mad. I can't come up with a comparison there are just too many thoughts swimming through my mind right now. I can't even concentrate.

Charlie doesn't say anything though. So I take it he's waiting for my dumb self to continue. "You wanna run a few background checks for me?"

His eyebrow cocks up and I get the feeling this whole best friend between father and daughter bonding really exists even though Charlie's the only one who thinks we're buddies. Then he moves his hand to his hips as if he were about to take off his earrings and ask the no one beside him to hold it then proceed in snapping his fingers in a z-formation at me.

Whoa, scary visualization there. Gotta stop doing that. Pronto.

"Make this quick Bells."

"Okay so there was this dude in an orange suit at the gas station or something who totally left me stranded and trust me dad, he doesn't look so innocent. Like everyone though Barney- the loveable dinosaur- was innocent but there are mug shots of him on Google! So I'm warning you now and you should definitely take my advice on hunting down the guy. He could be… leaving other girls like me who had no car stranded at the gas station too and not offer them any help whatsoever," I'd been talking so fast I hope Charlie got at least the first couple of sentences processed into his brain. Actually, I don't even think my little rant is processed into mine. What the hell am I saying? "I mean, I thought since Forks was such a small town that everyone and when I mean everyone I mean every citizen including Orange Suit knew each other and helped a fellow Forker out, you know?"

"And you had no car because…?" I sense this is what Cop Daddy wants to talk to me about the second he pulled up on the driveway with my garbage vehicle that is supposed to be working like a rocket.

"About that…"

"Bells you can't be leaving your truck-which I bought- stranded on the road. You should have called a tow-truck or me. Not leave it on the side of the road and forget about it when you go home." I'm expecting him to pull out his shotgun and finally say, 'you've been a bad girl' and shoot me but he doesn't. Instead he tosses me my keys and says, "Don't let it happen again. Got it?"

"Why are you so overprotective about the crusty thing anyway?" I tuck away the keys in my back pocket and mimic Charlie's bitchy-school-girl-hands-on-the-hips-hold-my-earrings position. He doesn't notice. Geez I can get away with anything.

"The thing- I mean the truck- is a special gift from my best friend. It's important that we take care of it. It's been passed down for generations." Charlie removes his belt and hangs it on the wooden shelf against the wall and I feel a little bit relieved his gun is at least a meter away from him.

I purposely make my jaw drop and look at Charlie with wide eyes. "The thing's been alive for that long? Geeze dad. I didn't know you've been around for that long. What are you? A vampire?" I laugh at the end because Charlie's face is priceless. He's all red- but doesn't beat my shade- and ready to punch me in the face.

"Bells, vampires don't exist. What on earth are you high on?"

The corners of my lip twitch but I ease the want to burst into laughter and admit to a cop I've been drinking his alcoholic beverages for the past couple of hours. Little does he know.

"Oh nothing. So are we done? You just wanted to talk about the car?" I just really want to bolt out of here and go to bed. Usually Renée and Phil are nowhere to be seen when I'm about to drop dead and wake up with a slight hangover.

He shrugs and kicks his shoes off. I don't know why we're still standing in the hall but eventually we move into the kitchen. Charlie sitting his fatass on the chair- as always- and me standing against the stove preparing a nice home cooked meal because Charlie can't cook for shit. That should be against the law. I don't even know how I'm going to chop this chicken when I'm seeing double.

"How was school?" he asks me in this forced concerned voice that father's always seem to use when they literally don't want to know.

I go through the contents of the fridge and take out ingredients for chicken fajitas. I definitely need to keep my mind off a lot of things. Specifically the still empty sheet of paper upstairs lying flat on my bed. Shoot. Okay new mission after dinner.

I.

Need.

To.

Write.

Something.

At least a verse of chorus. Something. One line, two words. Anything. As long as the paper's not blank. I can do this. I use to be able to write a full song in two minutes. So why does it take me almost half a day to come up with the first word?

Why is it so hard to go back to old habits?

"School was… the same. Just school. Met a lot of interesting people, went to my classes oh and one of my teacher's Dick."

Charlie coughed and I swear he was choking on his own saliva. "What about your teacher's dick?"

"Chillax. His name's Dickyson or something. I don't know but it's pretty funny." Below me the stove is bright orange and I then toss the cut up boneless chicken into the pan and step back when it starts sizzling. I can't stand when the oil flies from the pan to my skin.

"I better not be getting any complaints from any of your teachers. Or anyone. You're the daughter of the Chief. You need to have a good reputation Bells." He warns me in this voice and I suspect Renée got to him before I can fess up and tell him what a bad daughter he has.

I've done more than he knows. Who am I kidding? Charlie probably- almost certainly- didn't check his own daughter's records. Then again, he doesn't know me. Not many people do, to be honest. They know the old me. The one who used to smile and laugh at someone else's jokes rather than come up with my own. When I used to be even worse than a plain Jane. Almost like a girly girl. Okay no, don't go there.

"You may or may not." I shrug like it's no biggie and continue to stir the chicken. I squint at the pan so I'm not seeing doubles anymore and see that it's starting to cook up real good. I throw in the remaining vegetables and turn down the heat.

"I bet with that attitude of yours you made quite a lot of new friends, huh?" Charlie props his feet onto the table and I'm kind of disgusted since I eat on it and all but I turn my head and watch as the oil beneath the vegetables sizzle onto the pan creating tiny bubbles.

"Not really. I did however bump into the flight attendant chick I harassed." I turn on the fan located above me and Charlie clears his throat.

"At school Bells?"

I nod. "Yeah it's weird because I would never expect a 17 year old to be working as a flight attendant. Is that even possible? Or maybe she's not 17. Maybe she's a drop out or something. What if she's like a 40 year old virgin but worse?"

Charlie snorts. So, he's learning how to ignore my sense of humor and put up with it. I give props to the man because Renée sure as hell couldn't take it. Eventually she picked up on it and now she's worse than I am.

"What's her name?"

Shoot. That's a real stumper.

"Um…Brittney…no. That's not it. Laurie?... Ugh I don't know she's blonde and tall and extremely annoying… Lisa? No." I shut my mouth and stop saying all my guesses out loud and make sure it doesn't leave my head because I don't want Charlie to think I'm the bad person here, forgetting my friends' names. If I can call her my friend. I sure won't forget Tinkerbelle and Thing.

"Oh her names Lauren." I say when I remember the incident in AP math when I'd called her Brittney and she ignored me which was plain rude. Oh which reminds me…

"And you should definitely run a background check on her pops. She scares the crap out of me. One minute she's all nice and the next she looks as though she wants to murder my big friend."

Charlie's face is all scrunched up and I'm wondering if he just suddenly leaped a good 10 years into his life and instantly became all wrinkly. Scary. Does that mean I'm 27 now?

When his face drops I sigh heavily and turn back to the pan.

"Lauren Mallory?" he asks me.

I nod. "That's her."

"Huh."

"What about her?" Charlie's not going to say someone's name like that if there's no story behind it. I lift the pan and transfer the mix into a bowl and turn off the stove. This heat is not helping my headache at all. While I wait for Charlie to regain his thoughts from old age and all, I pull out the wraps from the fridge and warm them up.

"She's not old Bells. She's your age actually. Her father owns the Portland airport and she helps out on the weekends when she can. Nice girl." He's defending her like she's his daughter. Gee thanks Charlie. Thanks.

I pick up two plates and set it onto the table and go back for the bowls. "She doesn't seem so nice. In the cafeteria she was drowning in her misery and when my friend Emmett came she turned all Satan. It was pretty freaky."

"She's just upset." When I sit down I give Charlie a look. How on earth does he know about Lauren's situation? Does he get into everyone's heads? Good to know I'm not the only one he bombards questions with.

"Over what?" I try to sound interested. Well I am but at the same time I don't really give a crap about Lauren's freakish mood swings. She doesn't seem like the type to be friends with anyway. She's too quiet.

"Well, her childhood and best friend Jessica Stanley recently passed away from an accident this summer. She's been devastated ever since. She and Jessica used to shy away from the crowd up until her friend became friends with your friend's family."

I don't understand why Charlie can't use names. This takes me a couple of seconds to process. "So Jessica got close with Tinkerbelle's fam?"

Charlie nods and I let out a laugh. Funny how he knew who I was referring to. High five, Charlie.

"Tragic ending really. Apparently one of the son's of the family went crazy and killed her. No one knows. My team and I tried to investigate it but there were no traces of evidence."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Emmett or Jasper murdered Jessica?"

Charlie shakes his head and I feel a shiver running through my spine. "Who else is there?"

"The third son, Edwin I think is his name."

The third son. Huh, rings a bell. Suddenly I'm taken through a time warp and am back into that disgusting claustrophobic cafeteria staring right into Lonely Boy's eyes.

"I'm pretty sure his name is Edmund, dad." Charlie grunts at me making me feel like a 'Ms. Know-It-All' and I shrug back at him. Edmund or Edwin or whatever his name is doesn't seem so threatening even after hearing this news.

"What's the deal with him anyway? He doesn't seem all big bad wolf."

"Bells," Charlie leans in closer with a look in his eye that tells me what he's about to say is no good. "I don't know what the story is with this Edwin character but from what his parent's tell me, he's a good guy." He pauses and I hate when Charlie pauses. It builds the suspense.

I look down at my plate and start scooping a spoon of the chicken and place it onto my wrap, wondering what the heck Charlie's going to say next. I feel like I'm listening to a tape I'm supposed to take out and flip the side for it to continue. The silence is killing me.

"What?" I wave my hand in front of Charlie's face telling him to continue.

"But I don't care if he's a good guy or not. He was the last one to see Jessica and he hasn't been proven innocent or guilty. Stay away from him Bells." I gulp down the saliva I built up in my mouth and freeze. I don't know what to say or think. I don't even know Edwin. I can't defend him. I can't say anything. I don't know a damn thing.

"What did he do?" Something inside of me, deep down, is dying to get to know Edwin/Edmund better and get the story straight myself. I'm starting to feel like a CSI investigator.

Charlie shrugged. "Some say they saw him push her off a cliff."

"She fell off a cliff?"

Charlie nodded, wrapping his fajita and taking a big bite of it. "That's the story. No one knows why or who did it."

"Edwin never explained what happened?"

Through a piece of chicken Charlie opens his mouth widely and I appreciate that he's not using his manners around me because I'd be doing the same if I'm the one speaking. "He claims she was running off and slipped on mud, fell off the cliff and cracked her head right open. Says he tried to catch her but he was too late. The boy's been as depressed as her friend since then."

"So like I said. Bells, stay away from him. I don't know if he's telling the truth, we're still working on his case. Stay away, you hear me?"

I nod but I can't keep any promises. I feel like I need to get the truth out of this Edwin guy. I'm up for some Nancy Drew.

"Yeah, I hear you," Lie. "He's an idiot anyway. What kind of douche bag pushes his girlfriend off a cliff and lie about it?"

There was silence afterwards and I took this as the invitation to get the hell out of there and run up to my room.

And there I face the blank white paper waiting to be filled with black ink and a guitar waiting to be strummed since months.

So there it is.
I know I promised 2 POV chapters in one but there's been a confusion.
I promise next week will be better =)

Review ! :)