Chapter Nine

Edward POV

I laughed a bit when Bella mentioned my "siblings". Of course, she didn't know the half of it. Ever since Alice and I's imprudently public discussion of the future( living with vampires meant that the word "public" carried a rough one-mile radius) the coven had been buzzing- or, roaring, rather- with mental remarks. Not surprisingly, the nastiest ones had come from Rosalie, though I couldn't quite blame her. Insults typically stung her more than injuries, not that the latter was possible anyway.

It wasn't difficult to guess what Bella was thinking as she fled the forest. THe great irony of about her was that, although she was incredibly easy to read in reality, I was still unable to hear a word of her thoughts.

I didn't try to follow her this time. In all honesty I hadn't even intended to talk to her, much less see her, in the forest, only noticed her scent and decided to linger in the area. I tried to tell myself that I was merely making sure she wouldn't do anything to harm herself, since she had obviously noticed the absence of her blades.

Alone in the woods, I allowed myself an audible sigh. If I was trying to cheat the future, why was I allowing myself to get into Bella's life? I had to admit that she intrigued me. Had I already haf-accepted Alice's visions as fate?

"Damn you, Alice.", I mutter. Sometimes ignorance was bliss, and this was likely one of those situations.

Bella POV

Once outside the forest I was at a sudden loss as to what to do next. Fifteen or so minutes later I found myself again standing in front of my "home", if one could call it that. I'd grown tired of wandering aimlessly around town, although going home this early struck me as unimaginably stupid. Then I brushed the feeling off with a brazen rashness and slipped around to the back door, hoping that Carlie wasn't in the kitchen.

As my luck would have it, he was. It was twelve-o-fucking-clock and Charlie was clearly drowning in vodka, and therefore as far as he could be from his right mind.

My first instinct is to run back outside and slam the door as quickly as possible. That plan is immediately dissolved when a bottle hits the door frame above me, raining glass shards onto me. I cover my head with my arms and feel cold pain spike through my hands. A piece just barely misses my eye, then draws a bloody line down my cheekbone.

"What were you up to, out so early, huh? Or were you just getting back after last night?"

I don't respond to Charlie's yelling, knowing from experience that any sort of response only provokes him further.

"I asked you a fucking question!" I flinch as he picks a shard of glass of the floor and waves it at me. "Hopefully you charge more than your mother...that bitch would've given it for free." He cuts ff his rant by grabbing something off the counter and throwing it in my direction. Ludicrously enough, I dodge it as it collides with the wall, but the object whacks me on its way down.

"Well, remember I'm not paying for any of your little accidents." He cackles for a moment, then returns to his yelling. "What the hell are you standing there gawking for? Get the fuck out."

I don't need to be told twice, and in my haste I slip on the smaller fragments of glass on the floor. Breaking my fall with my hands gets numerous pieces lodged in my palms, and something hits me in the back as I get up off the ground.

"Clumsy bitch." I scramble outside as the door slams shut, and I hear the lock click behind me. Theres only one house key, and Charlie carries it around, so I probably wont be back in the house for a while. Cursing my lamentable lack of good judgement, I sit down on the ground and take a look at my bleeding hands. GIngerly picking a few shards out of my palms, I press the deeper ones against the hem of my shirt and swipe the back of my wrist over the cheek. A gush on my eft hand wont stop bleeding even after I wrap it up a bit, making me wonder if it needs to be stitched up.

I end up holding the edges of the cut together with scotch tape and stare numbly as the blood dries. Wounds don't bother me anymore. Its so easy to break skin, spill blood, and I'm so desensitized to it it actually scares me. At the very least, it doesn't hurt too bad, just stings from the drops of alcohol that's gotten mixed in. I make a mental note to try and rinse out the cuts later; Discovery due to carelessness would be no ones fault but mine. Though it might not make any difference since more than one person evidently already knew about the cutting.

As I get up I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a window. There is blood smudged down one side of my face, and I hurriedly wipe it off. The cut is visible, so I let my hair fall to hide it. On my way I take a piece of sharp glass from the ground, wrap it in some tissue, and pocket it.

The rest of the day is sent reading on a park bench. Only when it gets dark do I consider returning to the house. That particular idea is quickly dropped.

I've spent more than my share of nights sleeping on park benches, although this time it hurts the swollen bruise on my back. I ignore it for a while, until it starts to rain.

"Oh, shit." Looking around me for some form of shelter, my gaze falls on the playground, which is abandoned for the night. With a sarcastic laugh at how pathetic I've gotten, I climb into the crawl tube- you know, the hollow plastic cylinder small children like to crawl in? Not exactly anyone's idea of a bed, but at least its relatively dry.

*Still in Bella POV*

I wake up the next morning before sunrise, after a night of expectedly crappy sleep. The doors are still locked at home, and a look in the window confirms that Charlie is either asleep or passed out drunk. After a few moment's consideration I walk to side of the house, praying that the windows aren't locked.

Fortunately for me, it isn't. I manage to push it open without major creaking, and I'm skinny enough to get through with a minimal amount of difficulty. My grip on the sides of the frame scrape the scabs on my hands open, so once inside I have to rub the blood off to make it look less like the set of a low- budget crime drama.

A shower and a change of clothes later, I prepare to head outside again. Then an idea works its way into my head. If Charlie thinks that I'm still outside of the house, he'd never look for me in my room, right?

I'm tired as fuck and that's likely screwing with my decision making. Taking the pillow from my bed, I cram myself into the tiny space in my closet and fall asleep.

There you go. A bit longer than usual, I hope. Again, thank you so much, readers and reviewers,:) very kind "guest" and "Hiiiii"