Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just play with them. This story is rated M, and is not suitable for younger readers. Story contains violence, coarse language and sexual "situations". Please do not read if any of these things offends you.

Note: [ Beta'ed by: Say Goodbye Again & adt216 ]

Chapter 9 - Collision

Isabella Swan POV

No. No. No. This can't be happening!

I leaned my back against my closed bedroom door, slowly sliding down to a sitting position on the floor. I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my forehead against my knees. I slowly rocked back and forth, while my entire body was shaking with silent sobs. My throat was closing up, making it impossible for me to take a proper breath and fill my lungs with much needed oxygen.

How could he do this to me? Haven't I been through enough?

I had barely been able to pick up the phone after I dropped it; my hands had been shaking so violently that I had to grasp the phone with both of them. Dad was speaking excitedly about Mom's return, but the words weren't registering with me as he rambled on. Only four small words made their way through the haze.

Mom is coming home.

I couldn't even begin to explain how much I hated my dad at that moment, particularly the way his voice rose in excitement when he spoke about Mom's return. I hated him for sounding the most excited he's ever been since she was admitted. But most of all, I hated him for not considering what this was doing to me. He didn't even seem to care that I wasn't responding to him on the phone, and that I was slowly falling apart in our kitchen.

He was too caught up in re-telling everything the doctors had said to him. And oh boy, was my father excited, and the excitement made no sense to me.

What was there to be excited about?

I didn't care what he had to say, because no matter what, all I could hear him say in my head was: "Yay, my crazy wife is coming home. Let's order cake and make it a party!"

This was not a time for celebration.

I tried to recall what Dad had said about the doctors, and I frowned as his words came back to me. Apparently, Mom was getting better according to the doctors, and they said she had shown great improvement over the past three months. For reasons unknown to me, they were convinced she was ready to get back into the real world, and visit us for the weekend.

Just for the weekend.

I tried to find solace in the fact that I wouldn't be forced to be with her for longer than two days and two nights. Then, she would be sent straight back to the loony bin where her crazy ass belonged. But though it was a short time, I still thought it was two days and two nights too long.

I had my doubts on whether or not I was even ready to face her. I haven't even seen her since she was admitted three months ago. I never joined Dad when he went up to Seattle on his weekly visits. And for a damn good reason, too.

Was I ready to face her? No, I didn't think I was. I had serious doubts on whether or not I would even survive a meeting with her, let alone an entire weekend.

An entire weekend. Crap.

Dad wouldn't be there to support me and help me through my weekend either. If I knew my father at all, I assumed he would probably just act like nothing was wrong, and that Mom hadn't been in an insane asylum for the past three months. And most likely, he would act like what happened three months ago didn't happen at all. Then they would both gang up on me and be angry with me for not welcoming my mother with open arms and lots of hugs and kisses.

When it all came down to it, was that what they were expecting of me? Did they really think I would forgive her? Did they really think I could forgive her?

What was wrong with these people?

No tears fell from my eyes, and for that I was glad, because she wasn't worth my tears.

She's not worth anything. She doesn't matter at all.

I scoffed at myself, tilting my head up and leaning back against the door.

Who was I trying to kid here?

It didn't matter how much I tried to tell myself that she meant nothing to me. If that was true, why did I still have a hard time breathing at the mere thought of her? She was my mother, for crying out loud, and no matter what she did to me, and no matter how much I hated her, it would not change the fact that she gave birth to me. Her blood pulsated through my veins. Her body gave life to mine. I was the spitting image of her, and maybe that's why she did what she did. I had her chocolate brown eyes and brown hair… I even had the same freaking streaks of red in my hair, which were only visible in the sun.

I looked like my mother.

Did that mean I was likeher?

Did that mean I was insane too?

Maybe.

I had been on the quest of finding a way to kill myself for a while now. How could that not be crazy? To be suicidal at one point in your teenage life was the rule, not the exception, but it still didn't make it… okay. I knew what I was thinking wasn't good, but what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't handle the pain anymore, and death was my only way out.

Somehow, for some reason, I had been able to hold on for almost three months now. The pain was excruciating, but I was still managing to hold on and not give up completely. That must mean something, right?

No, Bella, you idiot. It just means you're too afraid, too freaking chicken, to actually go through with it. You always look for excuses to not kill yourself. "It's too messy", "It's too painful" and yada yada yada. Like any of it matters when you're dead.

I stared into space and every time I blinked, I would see my mom's face. It was the good face, not the crazy face. The beautiful face. The face of the mother she used to be. The mother who always used to bake chocolate chip cookies with me on Sundays, even though they always ended up tasting like crap.

The mother who would say she loved me.

The mother I would believe when she said those words.

I gnawed on my lip and tried to gain control over my body. Ever so slowly, the shaking and the sobbing subsided and I was able to breathe properly again.

Dad said he was going to spend the night in Seattle and drive back with Mom tomorrow at noon. They would be here when I come home from school. He wanted me to make the dinner for tomorrow, preferably lasagna since it was her favorite. He was even considering asking the Blacks over.

"It's been so long since you've seen Jacob, don't you miss him?" he had asked, but I was still so bewildered by the situation that I couldn't even cough out an answer to that.

No, of course I didn't miss him. What the hell was there to miss? My best, and only friend in the entire world, stabbed me in the freaking back. How could I ever miss a person like that?

Of course, I couldn't tell my father that. He didn't know the true story about what went down that dreadful night, and maybe that was for the best. Because if he knew all the gory details, Billy Black sure as hell wouldn't still be breathing. Dad would have gone over there so fast, pointing his gun to Billy's head and pulled the trigger without as much as a second thought.

At least that was what I liked to believe he would do.

Billy deserved to die. As did Jacob. As did Mom.

But as life would have it, I was the only one aiming for my own demise. When I was dead. why would I care if they kept on living? Karma would get them soon enough, what goes around, comes around, right? I liked to believe that too.

I stood up on shaky legs and slowly made my way over to my bed. It wasn't even close to my bedtime, but I had no energy left in my body to do anything else.

I removed the clothes from my body and threw them on the floor, before pulling on a worn t-shirt and climbing into bed.

Mom was coming home in less than twenty four hours… Hell, it was more like twenty hours.

And then it wouldn't matter whether or not I thought I was ready to see her, because I would be forced to look her in the eyes and know that she wasn't my mom anymore. She would always be my mother, the one who gave me life, but she was no longer my mom, the one who loved and took care of me.

Ready or not, here she comes.

The blaring of the alarm clock was not a welcoming sound in the morning, and I resisted the urge to just turn it off, turning my back to it and going back to sleep. But I couldn't do that. I needed to go to school because that would leave me with a few hours of peace. Mom would be here when I came home and the longer I could stay in school and put off our meeting, the better.

I did my morning ritual in such a haze that I was surprised to suddenly find myself in the cabin of my truck, and it was already seven thirty. Maybe I would get through the weekend like that too, if I was lucky.

The grass outside our house was covered in white frost, and as I backed the car out of the driveway I saw that the pools of rainwater on the streets had become frozen solid during the night. I was lucky that my truck was such a sturdy piece of metal; it would take a hell of a lot more than a few patches of ice to stop my truck from going anywhere but where I was steering it. Never once had I been even close to getting into an accident with my truck.

All the parents that were scared of their children getting into accidents during the winter should buy them a sturdy truck from the late fifties, since it wasn't affected by anything.

I was beyond frazzled when I reached the school parking lot. I had been checking the rearview mirror every other minute, feeling slightly paranoid and half-expecting to see Dad's cruiser behind me. And when I climbed out of my truck, I let my eyes wander over the parking lot once, just to make sure Dad wasn't there. It didn't matter if it made no sense for them to come here - I was still afraid they would.

What Mom did three months ago didn't make sense to me either, so it wouldn't surprise me if she made Dad drive her to school just to torture me. Being her, that would only make sense after all, in a weird and twisted kind of way.

Breathe, Bella, it's only eight a.m. They won't be here until noon. That's four hours from now. And you won't be home from school until three thirty. That's another three and a half hours. You have time to prepare yourself. Just breathe.

I closed my eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. Just as I opened my eyes I found myself a little too close to someone's back, and I didn't have time to stop myself from walking into said someone, making us both tumble forward.

I grasped onto whatever was closest to me, to keep from falling and hitting the cold ground.

The guy I had smashed into was not that lucky.

As if in slow motion, I saw him hit a thin piece of ice, which was covering a puddle of mud. The ice broke under his fall, causing the mud to splash everywhere, but nothing came into contact with me.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" he yelled.

He was practically laying face down in the mud as he growled. He slowly turned his body to see who hit him, and when he noticed me, he gave me the deadliest of glares.

I tried to ignore the fact that Edward Cullen looked good even covered in icy mud.

"Fucking idiot! Look what the fuck you did!" he yelled yet again.

I felt myself blush a millions shades of red, and I gripped harder on whatever it was that kept me from falling over. Then I realized that whatever I was gripping was soft, while still steady.

What. The. Hell?

I looked down at my hand, and my eyes went wide when I saw that I had clutched onto another person. I slowly let my eyes wander upwards. When I saw the face that belonged to the person, I felt myself gasp, but Emmett Cullen just grinned back at me.

"Walk much?" he joked.

I quickly pulled my hand back, as if I had burned myself.

Edward was still sitting in the mud with a furious and murderous look in his eyes.

"Are you fucking insane? Do you have a fucking death wish?" Edward asked, his voice low and menacing.

Death wish? You have no idea.

But of course, I couldn't tell him that. Hell, I couldn't even tell him anything. I became some sort of mute in his present, because at that moment, Edward Cullen scared the crap out of me, especially by the way he was looking at me, like he was trying to kill me with his eyes.

"I'm… I'm sorry," I stuttered, "I was lost in thought."

He stood up, groaning as he looked down at the mud caking on his clothes. He tried to dust it off with his hands, but instead he ended up smearing it even more. He clenched his fists, and his breathing was deep and labored, like he was fighting some inner demon. Then ever so slowly, he turned his glare down at me. He was even more terrifying while standing up, since he was now towering over me like a giant – even if he was only a head taller than me. His emerald eyes were shooting fire and I felt my breath hitch. His eyes are beautiful.

"Yeah, obviously," he spat. "Were you musing over how pathetic you are? And how tragic it is that you have no fucking friends and that a guy would never even touch you with a fucking stick? And that you will most likely die a painful death… alone?"

"Ed, c'mon… it's not like she meant to push you," Emmett said, trying to calm his brother down.

"Are you fucking kidding me? These jeans were brand fucking new!" Edward yelled, infuriated.

"I'm sorry! I'll pay for the dry cleaning, I swear!" I said quickly, feeling my throat close up.

Please, no tears in front of Edward. Please. Please. Please.

"Dry cleaning?" he snorted. "No dry cleaning in the world could get this shit out from these pants. And like you could ever afford it anyway," he shook his head. "These pants are worth ten times more than what your car was worth when it was new!"

"C'mon, Ed," Emmett sighed and gave Edward a tired look.

But Edward didn't listen; instead he took a step towards me, now standing so close that I could feel his hot breath in my face. It smelled like a mixture of smoke, mint and… something simply mouthwatering. Not the time, Bella, so not the time for this…

"You're fucking dead, Goose," he hissed at me. "I will kill you. Trust me when I fucking say that I will destroy every little part of your pathetic little existence."

"Enough, Edward," Emmett said, this time with a tone of authority to his voice, and grabbed Edward's arm, dragging him off. "Let's drive home and you can take a fucking shower and chill the fuck out."

Edward didn't resist Emmett's pulling, but I doubt he could have made any difference at all if he tried anyway. He glared at me all the way to his car.

Edward promised he would destroy my life. And in a few hours my mom would be home.

Fantastic.

Maybe I should pair them off, since they both seemed to share the same mission in life.

I couldn't have started this day off any worse, even if I had tried.

I hid out in the old music room during lunch, and I sat by the window looking down on the parking lot. I could see the mud pool, where I had pushed Edward, and it was like I could see the whole scene play out again from afar. I saw myself close my eyes, and walk right into Edward, pushing him face first into the mud.

Edward had every right to be angry with me, and I was surprised that Emmett came to my defense. But then again, that was probably just for Edward's benefit, I don't think it would have ended well for him if he would have hit me or done whatever it was that he wanted to do in order to punish me for ruining his expensive jeans.

I looked down on my cell phone, just as it went from 11:59 to 12:00. It was officially noon, and Mom was probably back in Forks now. It was an eerie feeling knowing that she was so close, and in a matter of hours I would see her again.

I tried to imagine what she looked like. For some reason, I imagined her hair to be tangled and frizzy, her eyes would no longer shine with life, and her skin would be pale and pasty. Her lips would be chapped and she would have some dried drool on the corner of her mouth. She would just be skin and bones, he would slouch when she walked, and the proper posture she used to have would be long forgotten… she would be broken and destroyed.

At least that was what I imagined, because that was the woman I wanted to meet. It would make it so much easier to see that she was just as broken on the outside as I was on the inside.

The mother that left three months ago still had life in her eyes, her hair was ever so shiny and her skin flawless. She had the posture of a supermodel and there was no drool in the corner of her mouth. And I did not want to meet that woman, because that would make it much harder for me to keep my head straight and remember that I hated her. I had to remember…

"Mom, are you okay?" I asked slowly, more than a little concerned by the odd look in her eyes.

"Of course, sweetie, why wouldn't I be? This will be a night we'll never forget. Everything will change tonight," she replied, her eyes sparkling by the lit candles on the table. I sat down on the pillow on the floor next to her and looked at her bewildered, her eyes were scaring me, and when she looked at me it didn't even seem like she recognized me. Or even saw me at all.

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking in fear, "What are you gonna do?"

She smiled lazily at me and took my hand.

"We're gonna do this together. We're gonna make everything okay. No more pain and suffering."

"But, Mom, I'm not in pain… I'm not suffering…" I replied confused.

"I know you say that now, but soon that will all change, and better to be safe than sorry."

There was a knock on the front door and I looked at it puzzled. Who the hell was coming over at this hour?

"Come in, it's open," my mom called, without letting go of my hand.

The front door opened and I subconsciously gripped my mom's hand tighter as I watched our guests walk in. They nodded at Mom and closed the door behind them as Mom nodded back.

"I thought you'd never come," she said with a smile.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. I looked down on my untouched food with a sigh; it wasn't the first time the thought of Mom had made me lose my appetite.

I made it down to Biology just in time. I did my best to ignore the glare Edward was giving me from his seat, but I still felt my cheeks blush furiously. He hissed something under his breath when I passed him, but I couldn't make out what it was. I guess I should count myself lucky, he was no doubt muttering a bunch of things I didn't need to hear right now, anyway.

Our teacher, Mr. Melina, was preparing two piles of files on his desk, and then he looked at us from over his glasses, which had slid down on his nose. Nobody was paying any attention to him, the whole classroom was still buzzing with lunchtime talk. I guess people didn't realize that lunch was over, and that they were sitting in a classroom and not in the cafeteria.

Mr. Melina cleared his throat, but still didn't get a response out of his students. I could see, more than I could hear, him sigh as he slowly shook his head, but for some reason he was smiling softly in amusement of this current situation.

"Sexual Education," he said, his voice no higher than normal conversational tone, but still the entire classroom went silent and everyone turned their heads to him. I guess I understood his amusement now; nothing gained the attention of teenagers more than the subject of sex.

"Sexual Education," he said again, smiling at the unusual attention he got from his students. "We will, together with the high schools in Port Angeles and La Push, be a part of a sex-ed project, and the project will last for four weeks. You will be separated into groups of four, and you will pick a random subject from my cap of topics," he picked up a white baseball cap that was filled with small white notes, "and your project will be based around this topic. You shall discuss within your group, and write down your conclusions and present them in four weeks, together with the kids in Port Angeles and La Push."

"Is this supposed to be purely theoretical, or are we supposed to experience these topics?" A boy asked, with a serious tone, and a few students snickered.

"Ha ha, very funny," Mr. Melina muttered. "No, this is purely theoretical. Our school's official policy is abstinence, and we do not encourage such behavior."

A few students groaned and I rolled my eyes.

"I've already created the groups, when I say your name, I want you to come up here with your group and pick a topic, and grab a folder, which contains all the information you need about the project. And before anyone asks, yes, this will be a big part of your final grade," Mr. Melina said and picked up a paper from his desk. "Okay, so these are the groups…"

He began rambling names and each student walked up to the desk, and grabbed their topic, before walking back.

"… Mike Newton, Lauren Mallory… Isabella Swan…" he said, and I heard Lauren groan loudly, as she left her seat, when she heard my name, "and Edward Cullen," he finished.

My eyes immediately shot to Edward, and he was frozen in his seat. His eyes staring into space.

"Excuse me?" he said between clenched teeth, without moving a muscle, his eyes still staring at nothing in particular.

"Mr. Cullen, you will work with Newton, Mallory and Swan," Mr. Melina clarified, as if he really believed that Edward hadn't heard him.

"Can I please switch groups?" Edward asked, his voice shaking and it was obvious that he was boiling underneath.

"No can do, Mr. Cullen, if you switched, then everybody would switch, and before you know it everybody would be working with their friends, and that is not what this project is about. You will gain so much more if you work with people you do not normally talk to," Mr. Melina replied.

"What if I don't care about gaining anything?" Edward muttered. "What if I'm happy just the way I am? And what if I don't fucking care what that fucking Goose thinks about anything?" His voice rose at the end and he shot his eyes to me. People gasped at his outburst, and I blushed as they all turned to stare at me.

"Sorry, Mr. Cullen, but I guess you will just have to live with the fact that you will have to listen to what Miss Goose… Miss Swan has to say for the upcoming weeks." The fact that he called me by the wrong name did not go unnoticed by anyone, which was proven when the whole class snickered in response.

"Oh fuck it," Edward muttered and left his seat.

Mike and Lauren were already standing by Mr. Melina's desk, and Edward joined them. I was too embarrassed to even leave my seat. They didn't seem to care anyway. Edward put his hand in the cap and picked a topic. He looked down at the note in his hand and snorted.

"What did we get?" Mike asked and Edward showed it to him.

"True love and one night stands. Discuss the possibility of falling in love at first sight, and the good and bad aspects of having a one night stand. Can a one night stand end up being your true love, and how would you know?" Mike read aloud and I frowned.

What the hell kind of topic was that? My eyes were drawn to Edward, as he sat back down in his seat. He didn't look entirely happy about the topic either, but maybe it was mainly because he had to work with me on this one.

Like I would ever want to work with you anyway, I thought, as if Edward could hear it.

Mr. Melina listed the last group, and explained more about the project for the remaining time of class. I couldn't help but wonder how he had created these groups, because some of my classmates had been lucky enough to get paired up with their best friends. And wasn't this project about getting an outside view? That proves how much he knew.

The project and thoughts of Edward had me so distracted that I had almost forgotten all about Mom. The issue she presented didn't even come to mind again until I skipped my last class and went home early, seeing Dad's cruiser parked outside the house. I froze at the sight as the realization hit me at full blast.

Mom was in that house. I was less than thirty feet away from her.

I turned off the engine at the same moment as I saw the front door open. And for the second time today, it felt like everything was going in slow motion and I was extremely aware of every little detail of everything.

Dad stepped out through the front door, followed by a woman. A woman with shiny brown hair and sparkling eyes. The woman pushed past my dad and went straight over to my truck.

I felt my face being drained of blood, and my brain was no longer working.

This was not the woman I was expecting to see. This was not the woman I wanted to see. I was prepared to see that broken women with dried drool on her face. Not this... not this at all.

Mom threw open the car door, and before I had any time to react, she pulled me into her arms and hugged me to her furiously, not minding that I still had my seatbelt on. Her soft hair was in my face, and some got into my mouth. I took a trembling breath, and her scent violated all my senses.

She even smells the same…

"Oh sweetie, I've missed you so much," she whispered softly in my ear.

The sound of her voice was what brought me back and I pushed her away from me.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I tried to yell at her, but it came out as a choked sob.

"Oh sweetie," she said, ignoring my outburst, and stroking my cheek. I flinched at the touch and she furrowed her brow in confusion. In confusion! What the hell was so confusing about it?

I undid my belt with shaking hands, and climbed over the seat to leave the car through the passenger door. My mom stood dumbstruck on the other side. She even had the guts to look sad about it. I looked over at my dad, who was still standing by the front door, his arms crossed over his chest. He was frowning and looking at me disapprovingly.

How did he expect I would react at her return?

"I… I can't take this right now," I mumbled and quickly made my way up to the front door. I tried to walk past my father, but he put his arm out to hinder me from going inside.

"I think you owe your mother a proper welcome," he said to me seriously.

I gaped at him and I felt my traitorous lower lip tremble. This was too much.

He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. Mom was standing just a few feet away from me, her arms extended and a loving smile on her lips.

"I've missed you so much, sweetie; you don't need to be afraid of me. I'm your mother, everything is going to be okay, sweetie, and there is nothing to be afraid of." Her voice was almost singing in its softness, and I bit down on my lip to keep it from trembling even more.

"You… you're sick," I said with a shaky voice, trying my best to keep it steady enough to make my words comprehensible. "What you did is sick, and what you are is sic-"

Suddenly I was looking to the right, and I had a stinging, warm feeling on the left side of my face. Out of nowhere, too quick for me to notice, she had raised her hand and slapped me across my face. I was too shocked to react, move or say anything at all.

"I am not sick. Do you think the people in Seattle would have let me leave if they thought I was sick? No, they would not," she said sternly. "I understand completely that you feel bad about what happened, but you can't blame that on me. It was all on you, remember? Sweetie, I would appreciate it if you didn't paint me out to be the bad guy here, when all I tried to do was help you."

I slowly turned my head to her, and saw that there was no regret in her eyes, and she meant every single word she said. I felt the bile in my throat and I tried to swallow it back down. Dad still had his hands on my shoulders, and much to my annoyance I felt surprised by the fact that he had not intervened and come to my defense when she hit me.

"Apologize to your mother," he said in my ear and I stiffened.

He wanted me to apologize?

She hit me!

My mother's lips twisted into a creepy smile, that probably was supposed to look all loving and sweet, but looked nothing but menacing and sick to me.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, and her smile widened.

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" she smiled.

"Can I go to my room? I have homework to do," I lied turning my eyes down. I just needed a reason to escape from these people.

"Yes, but please come down in an hour to prepare dinner," Dad said and let go of his hold on me.

I nodded once, before quickly disappearing into the house and stumbling my way up the stairs.

I couldn't get away from them fast enough.

I slammed my door behind me and threw my bag on the floor, before I started to pace back and forth, gripping my hair in frustration.

My mom was here now, and I had been in her presence for a mere two minutes before she hurt me again. Where did she get off slapping me like that?

Renée Swan. She looked like my mother, she dressed like my mother, she even smelled like my mother. But the look in her eyes showed me that she was still that crazy person from three months ago, and that person was not my mother.

I thought I could take it, seeing her again, but now in the comfort of my room, I felt my heart slowly break and my insides turn. The pain was like nothing I've ever experienced before, and it was way worse than what I've been feeling for the past months. She would be the death of me. No doubt about it.

And then there was Dad. He acted just how I feared he would. He was on Mom's side; he was acting like nothing ever happened and whatever did happen was all my fault. Mom was an angel, and I was the devil trying to cut her wings.

I could hear my parents move around in the living room, beneath my room, and I heard the distant mumbling of their talking. I lay down and pressed my ear to the floor, trying to make out their words.

"She'll come around, don't worry. She is just being a teenager," Dad said with a loving tone.

"Oh I hope so, honey. I can't stand her being angry with me. This was not how I wanted our reunion to be," she sighed. "She should really talk to someone… I don't think it's healthy for her to go around with all this anger, especially when she's pointing it all at the wrong person."

"I know," Dad replied soothingly.

"And she looks so broken, haven't you noticed? I think she's hurting herself. Did you see the scars on her arms? They're even worse now… I think she's sick, Charles, she needs help," Mom continued, concern lacing her voice. I quickly stood up again and glared at the floor, like it was the one saying the words and not my mother.

Was she actually suggesting I was cutting myself? Was she actually implying I needed help? The same kind of help she was supposed to be getting in Seattle? What the hell was wrong with her?

I stormed out of my room, with the intent of telling her off, and filling her in on every single thing that happened that night, and how none of those things were my fault. I almost tripped on my own feet on my way down the stairs, but caught myself on the banister.

I shrugged it off and walked into the living room, ready to let all of my feelings toward her out in the open, and let her make what she wanted out of it. I couldn't take this anymore. I needed her to know how much she hurt me. I needed closure.

Entering the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks when I found my parents in a loving embrace. Dad had his eyes closed, and a small smile was playing on his lips, as he hugged Mom. He looked genuinely happy, and I felt myself waver. Maybe this wasn't the time. Who was I to deny my father happiness? Just because he never cared for mine, didn't mean I had to become like him and destroy the only thing in his life that seemed to make him happy… no matter how crazy that one thing may be.

I turned around with a sigh and went into the kitchen. I might as well start dinner…

I stared down on my plate of lasagna, and though it smelled delicious, I couldn't find it in myself to pick up the fork and take a bite. My entire body was aware of every single movement my mother made, and every noise that came from her made my skin crawl.

She was evil. Beyond evil, and she was sitting by our dining table, acting like she was the victim…

In the corner of my eye, I saw her put down her fork and put her plate aside, so she could rest her clasped hands on the table.

"Bella, sweetie, how is school?" she asked, tentatively.

"Fine," I muttered.

"And friends? How is Jacob?" she asked eagerly, seeming happy that I was even giving her a response. I turned to glare at her, and the smile that was plastered on her face faltered.

"Jacob? You're seriously asking me about Jacob? What the hell is wrong with you?" I spat.

"Isabella Swan! Language!" Dad barked and I sighed.

Was this how it was going to be this weekend?

"You used to be such good friends. I'm sad to see your friendship go to waste just because you're having a hard time…" she sighed. "Sweetie, talk to me. What is bothering you? Why are you so angry? You shouldn't shut people out like this… Has something happened? Something at school? Is this about a boy?"

I pushed my chair back so hard it fell over, but I scarcely noticed as I ran up the stairs to my room, grabbing my car keys and my jacket before storming back down, and out through the front door.

"Sweetie! I just want to talk to you! You know I'm here for you!" Mom called after me.

I climbed into my car and turned the key. The engine roared to life, drowning whatever it was she was calling after me. As I put the car into gear, I saw her stand by the front door. The lights from inside giving her an eerie glow, making her look like an angel. Dad stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. The sight made me sick to my stomach, and I drove off as quickly as my car allowed me.

My grip on the wheel was so hard my knuckles were turning white, but I didn't care, because it was the only thing holding me together at the moment.

"Why are you so angry? … Is this about a boy?"

And the doctors had the nerve to say that she was 'fine'?

I must have been home sleeping the day the dictionary-people decided that 'fine' was synonymous with the word 'delusional'. By the way she was acting, and how sure she seemed to be of herself, I was beginning to wonder if she had actually deluded herself into thinking that whatever story she had come up with in her head was actually what happened.

And that it was all my fault.

My head was spinning and I drove aimlessly for a while. It was almost six pm now. I had no desire to go home, therefore I decided to drive to Port Angeles and check into a motel. I had enough cash to afford a night or two. Maybe I could stay the entire weekend there, so I wouldn't need to see my mother again.

I stepped on the gas pedal, steering the car out of Forks, and towards the highway. It was dark outside and there were no street lights on this road, since it was going through a thick forest. This particular road wasn't the one most people used, anyway, when they wanted to get to the highway.

The only lights on the road were the headlights of my car and the only sounds were the roaring ones coming from the engine. That was why when it began making weird sputtering noises I immediately noticed. The car began to shake violently beneath me, and the steering wheel was shaking oddly in my hands. Out of nowhere, the headlights went out and the engine sputtered a few times before it went silent. The car kept rolling, but I pushed down the brakes and it slowed to a stop.

Crap.

"Isn't this the cherry on the crap sundae that is my life," I muttered, as I climbed out of my car.

I looked down the road, seeing nothing but darkness.

"Great, this is just getting better and better. Alone in the dark on a deserted street that nobody ever uses," I said to myself, and felt for my cell phone in my pockets. I picked it up and pushed a button so the display lit up. I scoffed at myself.

Who did I intend to call? My dad? I don't think so.

I threw my phone in the car, closed the door, and proceeded to lean my back against the truck. It was freaking cold outside, and the street was slippery with black ice. But somehow, the freezing cold was comforting in a way. At least it made me think of something else for a change. I hugged myself to keep warm, as I kept looking up and down the empty road, in the hopes to see a car…

Am I really hoping for a car?

Freezing to death might be painful. But it's dying just the same. Right?

I don't know how long I stood there, freezing my butt off in the cold wintery night, but soon I saw the headlights of an oncoming car. I stepped out onto the road and waved frantically at it as it came closer. When I thought it was slowing down, I turned to open my car door to grab my phone from inside…

It was the screeching noise that made me turn around. And it was the weird, twisted, angle at which the car was closing in on me that made me freeze in place. I couldn't find it in me to move. Although, time seemed to be moving in slow motion – for the third time today – and I could make out every little detail of the shiny Volvo's front, I stood my ground, and watched it come. I could have made it if I had wanted too.

But the truth was, I simply didn't. This was the exit I had been waiting for.

This was it.

I was finally getting my wish fulfilled.

I was going to die.

You would think that the collision would have hurt, that I would have screamed in pain as I hit the windshield with a deafening crash, before rolling down to the cold, icy road and landing under the moving car.

But no. It didn't hurt and I didn't scream.

I welcomed the eternal darkness that was sure to follow.

I couldn't even feel the pain.

Maybe death was painless after all? No matter what way you go.

I was unconscious long before the car stopped dead.

The last sound I heard, before I slipped into the eternal darkness, was a desperate cry.