Thanks so much for the reivews! They are the reason I update every day, or almost every day!

Here's the confrontation...get ready. My Carlisle is NOT like SM's. Just a warning, you will not like him.

"It's been five days, Edward. You need to see him."

I sighed and rolled back over, pulling the blankets up over my head. I had done a stellar job of avoiding my dad for forty-eight hours. My mom said give him time, I'm giving him time. I'm no idiot. I listen to my mother. But right now I was seriously considering breaking the trend. Why should I go see my dad? It's not necessary.

"Mom..."

"Get up."

I heard the click of her walk as she strode across my floor, the sound of her heels hitting hardwood bouncing off the walls. Closer, closer, closer. She stopped next to my bed and I squeezed my eyes shut. For the love of god, don't make me go. But she was. She tore off my blankets with one swoop, leaving me freezing in just boxers with nothing to guard me from the cool air of my bedroom. I groaned as goose bumps covered my skin.

"Get. Up. Or so help me, Edward Anthony, I will take you down myself. Don't you underestimate me."

"You said give him time. And stop looking at me in my underwear."

"Oh, shut up. I gave birth to you and diapered that butt. It's not like you're naked. I bought those boxers you're wearing. Go downstairs."

"No."

"Edward. You were gone. For two weeks. Two weeks we were missing our son. He was gone. And we didn't know if it was actually you texting us or some murderer. Two weeks. Three hundred and thirty six hours. You owe him at least an explanation."

She sounded to hurt and angry, but just whispered at me. That's worse than being screamed at. I groaned. Like a fucking toddler. But I couldn't help it. Confronting my father about what happened would be like signing over my life. I might as well write a living will. I have possessions. I'm worth something. Who would want my shit? Nobody. She sighed and shook her head. I'm such a fuck up.

"Put some clothes on. Now. Go down stairs. He's in his study. And Edward..."

"Yeah?"

"I love you. Thank you for coming home."

And she walked out of the room. I sighed and got up, going to my closet to grab a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. 'You can do it! Just go down there, and take it like a man.' Easy for you to say. I made my way down the stairs and down the back hall, to the lair. The dungeon, pits of hell. his study. I opened the door and stepped in.

It's such a scary room. The walls are paneled in mahogany and have built-in bookshelves, holding volumes upon volumes of medical texts and journals. The floor is covered in a thick navy blue carpet and does nothing to help lighten the room. Add to that the ridiculous sconces on the walls that really only provide a glow. And then there's the fireplace. It flickers and casts shadows around the office, giving that eerie feel of the library in Beauty and the Beast. The one where the beast broods. That's Carlisle. The beast, brooding and...just..ugh.

I walked forward and sat down in a chair in front of his desk, opposite my father. The back of his leather chair was turned to me so I couldn't see him. But I knew he was there.

"Mom said to come and see you."

He turned his chair and faced me. Fuck. Judging by the facial expressions, livid doesn't even begin to cover it. I looked him in the eye, though. I'm not a fucking coward. And I'm not going to let him mow me down like he tries to. No fucking way. I saw his jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He put his arm on the desk in front of him, his forearm taught as his fist clenched.

"You have some nerve, Edward. What the hell is wrong with you?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"I don't know, Dad. I needed to leave and I did. I'm not proud of it and I'm sorry for making you guys worry."

His eyebrows narrowed and his fist came down hard on the desk.

"That's not enough! Sorry? Your mother was sick with worry. When are you going to get a hold of yourself and grow up?"

Fucking bringing my mother into this. He's a coward and he can't handle admitting he might have been worried about me. So instead, like the bastard he is, he uses my mother as a shield. I know I hurt my mother but for him to use her as fuel, it made my skin crawl. I'm more of a mother fucking grown up then he'll ever be. Having a degree doesn't make you a man. Just more of an asshole in his case.

"Grow up? And what would that entail?"

Go ahead. Tell me what you think I should be. Like a little bitch. Pushing what he knows on my because he can't handle me having my own fucking dreams. Bastard. He didn't speak. His dead eyes bore into mine and we had a staring contest. Who'd be weak enough to look away first. Not me. No fucking way. I wouldn't let him win.

"Say it, Carlisle. Say it. What do I need to do to be a grown up? Hm? Just say it."

His fist slammed down on the table again, rattling the drawers inside.

"Get your head out of your ass! Focus, get some direction. You don't just leave for a while because you feel like it and then expect everything to be OK. The school hasn't excused those absences. Your grades suffered from that little stunt you pulled."

My grades suffered. So now I have a 3.4, not a 4.0. Big fucking deal. The music schools I want to go to only require a 3.2. And with my SAT and ACT scores I'll be just fucking fine. But that's not it. That's not what he means. Music school isn't what he means. We continued to stare.

"You're not finished. Why do my grades matter, Dad?"

"You need good grades to get into colleges, Edward."

"What colleges? For what major?"

Say it. I fucking dare you. Tell me what I need to major in.

"Medical school! Medical school. Pre-med major. That's what you need good grades for. Don't bait me, Edward. You know where this is going."

I exploded. I can't handle it anymore. I stood up from my chair with such force that it fell back behind me with a thud against the carpet. My fists clenched at my sides.

"I don't want to go to medical school."

I spoke through clenched teeth as I fought for his eye contact in the dim light. I couldn't find it but my eyes still bore into his with a fierce intensity.

"Sit down."

"No. I'm sick of this shit. I'm not going to medical school."

"Yes. You. Are."

I turned to leave. If I had to spend one more minute with him in that room, he'd leave in a body bag. The bastard can't even be glad that I'm home. He just cares about my mother fucking grades because of stupid medical school. I never thought I'd have such resentment for my own father. But he makes me so nauseous.

"Don't you dare walk out on me."

"No. I'm done with you, Dad. I can't do this anymore. I honestly thought for a minute that you'd be happy I was home. I guess as long as my grades are kept up, it's all good, right?"

I didn't even look at him this time. I'm so tired. Just so fucking tired of living up to what he wants me to be. And I can't. And it's draining.

I needed to feel like me, make him understand. I walked to my piano in the living room. It was placed strategically in the house so that no matter where you were, you could hear the sound of it's music. I would make him fucking understand. He would know what I wanted. I sat down at the bench and lifted the cover. My fingers itched to touch the keys and so I let them, gave in to the temptation. It felt so good. I began to play. It came out of nowhere but I played a song. It just happened and I felt my chest grow lighter and lighter. The notes kept coming and soon I was lost in my own world, in my own heaven.

Bella. We were on her bed, where we had already spent a few nights studying. Except there weren't any books. Just us. Her hair flowed like a stream around her head and shone brightly in the light. Her beauty astounds me. She smiled at me, her perfect lips spread across her white teeth. And her eyes. They sparkled like fucking diamonds. She's perfect and beautiful and gorgeous and everything I don't deserve to have. Her skin shone like crystal in the light and it's just so perfect and flawless.

Over the past few days, we had become closer than I thought possible. She still thought of us a friends, but I felt so strongly about her that she consumed my every thought. I continued to play. For hours. I just sat there and played everything I felt and it felt amazing. I felt sorry for my dad that he'd never know that feeling. After a few hours, I couldn't play anymore. My limbs felt numb as I walked back upstairs to my bedroom. I'm not really sure how, but somehow I was safe again in the confines of my room. I couldn't even think. My head was swimming and my pulse pounded in my ears. I couldn't breathe. I needed air.

Without even taking a moment to process, my hand reached for my phone and I flipped it open, dialing blindly. It rang.

"Hello?"

"Bella."

I barely recognized my voice as I croaked out her name. Such a beautiful name deserved to be said with more conviction.

"Edward! What's wrong? No, never mind. I'm coming over. Just stay in your room, OK? Please don't leave."

And she hung up. I don't fucking deserve her. As if I could ever leave her again. As if I could survive more than five miles from her.

I don't know about you, but I'm really excited for the next chapter!!!! Please review and tell me what you think should happen. I love hearing your ideas.