Bella

April 11, 2017

"No, no." Renee insisted. "I swear to God, hand on the Bible, that Lupe was looking at me weird today when I was going to my pottery class." Renee made a noise. "I'm going come home to the trash knocked over. I know it's her, Bella."

"Mom," I said. "You know it's the javelinas going through the trash because you never wrap up the old chicken bones before you throw them out."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Mom." I said.

"Shh. It's her." She whispered. I imagined her slinking down in the seat of her Honda, pushing up her sunglasses like Lupe Hernandez, our neighbor of almost eleven years didn't know Mom's 2002 gold Honda Accord. "She's glaring at me, Bella."

"Mom, this is the schitz talking." I said. "When was the last time you took your meds?"

"I don't need those." She hissed at me. "And this isn't the schitz talking. I know when it's the schitz talking. There was a black van, Bella. Lupe was the one that called them and-," She broke off her sentence midway and made a noise. "Bella." She whispered.

"What?"

"Bella. Bella. Bella."

I pressed my thumb into my eye socket until is caused me pain. "Where is Phil?" I tried to get her back on track, knowing it wouldn't do any good. Talking to my mom when she was off her meds was trying to talk to a puppy on quaaludes.

"You know Phil's on a…" Her sentence broke off again. "She disappeared! Bella! She disappeared!"

"Are you hearing voices?"

"Just the one." She said. "It sounds like you. 'Don't do that, Renee' and 'Don't go there, Renee.'" She laughed. "Naggy, like you."

"Mom." I groaned. "You need to take your meds. Have you seen Harold lately? How are your talks with Harold?"

"Harold said some bad things about Uncle Warren and I stopped going because I didn't like the way he was looking at me and-," She cut off again. "Oh, wait. She's back."

"But you liked Harold. He was into the Grateful Dead like you."

"I did. But, I don't need him. Bella," She scoffed. "I'm fine."

"Mom, you're hearing voices again and you think Lupe, our ancient, blind neighbor is out to get you. That is the schitz."

"She's staring at me, Bella!"

"She can't see!" I almost shouted back, thankful Charlie was on evening shifts this week and that I was alone. "She's blind!"

Renee sucked in a deep breath and I braced myself for the verbal assault. "Well, if you're just going to be a fucking whore bitch about it," She growled, menacingly. "Then I'll just take care of it myself. Goddamn, Bella. I expected a little bit more support from you."

"Mom-,"

But, the phone disconnected. I looked at my screen until the tears blurred it into an edgeless blob, the black of the phone bleeding into the white of my hand. I chucked it to the ground and pressed my hands to my forehead, my body wracking with sobs.

I was sitting on the hardwood facing my window, my back against my bed. I knew, knew the aggression and the hostility was just the schizophrenia. They were symptoms, like the voices and the delusions. Just symptoms of the disease. She didn't actually mean the words she spoke.

It didn't stop the stab of pain. Each word like a javelin right through my temple, straight into my heart. They ricocheted around in my head. Fucking whore bitch.

I rocked back and forth, my hands still pressed to my forehead, tears streaming down my face. The conversations were getting worse. She was getting worse. She needed help. She was going to do something. She was on a pathway to destruction, screaming down a racetrack on the way to a full psychotic episode that was going to end up with someone hurt.

And I wasn't there to absorb the blow.

I flinched, my teeth grinding in my head as the ghosts of psychotic episodes past reared their ugly heads. I lifted my fingers into my hair, right to a little scar above my ear. I sobbed harder, snot and tears mixing on face.

I picked up my phone and navigated to Phil's contact, pulling myself together as the phone rang. "Hey, it's Phil. Leave a message." His voicemail chirped happily.

"Hey, Phil. It's Bella. Call me back when you can. Thanks." I said, completely normal. I hung up and almost chucked my phone again. He promised. Phil promised me he would take care of my mother. He promised that I could have a normal year. He promised he loved her, despite her weird behavior.

I watched my phone ring, hoping it was Phil. Renee, with a picture of her in a big, floppy sunhat from the last time we went to Quartzsite to look for geodes flashed on my screen. I contemplated not answering it. But, I couldn't do that. "Hello?"

"Bella," She hissed. "The black van is back."

I ground my teeth in my head. Fucking whore bitch. She didn't even say sorry. She didn't even care what those words did to me. The way they tore at me, eroded me little by little. She didn't care. The schitz didn't care.

I sucked in a deep breath, controlling my voice so it came through even. I hated to lie, but I was ridiculously good at it. I had to be, for my mother's sake. "Describe it to me." I almost whispered, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Black, tinted windows." She said.

"Are you sure it's not the Bustamantes' van from across the street? Is it a Chrysler?"

"Yeah, it's a Chrysler." She said.

"I think the NSA would use a nicer van."

"What if that's what they want you to think?"

"Mom, when's the last time you took a shower?" I asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm very-," Her sentence fractured again. "People. Man. Across the street. Man." Her words tumbled over each other as her jumbled thoughts tried to get them out. "Wait. Wait. I think that's just Kevin. Hi, Kevin!"

"Mom, you need to go inside the house."

She made a noise. "But, they can hear me. They're all tapped into our computer. And Lupe watches for them. Dumb bitch-," She growled lowly.

"Mom," I said, my voice pleading. "Please, please don't do anything to Lupe. She's a nice lady. Please."

"Nice lady my ass." Renee scoffed.

"Why don't you try meeting her? You know, instead of listening to the voice in your head and your warped sense of reality telling you she's evil?" I tried.

"Bella," She snapped at me. "Get a grip."

I almost pulled my hair out. "Mom. Where is Phil?"

"Phil?" She said, confused. "Phil? My Phil? Where is Phil? Hmm."

"Please, can you go find Phil?"

"I don't need Phil." She snapped again. "I don't need you either. I call you because I want to, not because I have to. I'm done. Done. Done." Her words started tumbling out again and I braced myself again, my eyes squeezing shut. "I should've fucking swallowed you. You worthless piece of-,"

I hung up this time, my skin prickling with her words. I pressed my head to my knees and started to cry again. I cried until I felt like I had cried myself dry. Until my skin felt like it was too tight and was suffocating me. I scratched at it with my fingernails, leaving welts.

I wanted Edward. I wanted his arms around me as I cried into his shoulder. I wanted to tell him about all the times that my mother's schizophrenia turned into a monster and hurt me, physically and emotionally. I wanted him to banish it away, smooth my hair back, look into my eyes and tell me it was going to be okay.

But, every time I would pick up the phone after I just hung up with my mother, I would stop myself. Freeze with my finger over the call button, Edward's pained eyes and bald head filling my mind up until I felt like a balloon about ready to explode. And then I would feel worse for wanting to unload myself on him like that. He had enough to deal with without me piling it on.

So, I decided to do what most adults did when it came to dealing with their issues – drown them with alcohol.

I got to my feet and grabbed my cell phone, moved to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out a small bottle of tequila from the back of the pile. Charlie was a dark whisky and beer man. He wouldn't notice a bottle of tequila blanc going missing.

I tucked my prize into my jacket and rode to First Beach in Earl, parking and finding a private area in the sand where I could watch the waves, get drunk, and forget that my mother was slowly spiraling out of control.

I was two bitter, horrible swigs in when I realized that getting drunk on the beach by myself was a miserable experience. Renee's words were still buzzing around my brain, stinging me over and over, pounding right between my eyes. Fucking whore bitch. I drank faster, letting my tears blur the sunset into the ocean, turning it into a bleeding watercolor painting.

Maybe I could call someone. I thought when my fingers started to go numb and my lips and middle felt warm. But who? I felt my eyebrows furrow. Edward was automatically off the table. Who did that leave?

I picked up my cell phone. I had missed another call from my Mom. Probably calling me to tell me what a waste of human anatomy I was and complain about our neighbors' choice of vehicles again. Instead I navigated to my contacts.

I had ten of them in total. One of which was the school for when I had to call in sick. Out the remaining nine, only three weren't family – Edward, Jacob, and Jessica Stanley, who of which I think I texted once about a project and then never spoke to again.

Edward was my boyfriend, but he was also my best friend. My eyebrows furrowed. I went to him for anything. Why couldn't I get myself to go to him about this too?

I started to cry again. I just wanted someone to understand. To understand how hard it was to sit at the sidelines and watch someone suffer with something they couldn't control. I just wanted someone to understand how hard it was to be that person who had to come behind and pick up the pieces. I bit my lip as a face popped into my head.

Jake.

I groaned and drank again. I didn't want to do that to him either. He carried everything and everyone on his shoulders. He was a cold faucet over a burn – unrelenting, pouring himself over. There had to be a point where the water source ran out, though, right? There had to be a point where the sink overflowed. Right?

Still, though. If there was anyone that would understand, it'd be him.

I drank another swig and texted him. If he didn't text back, that was fine. I could suffer alone. I've been doing it for eighteen years.

Hey, Atlas. Is the offer of unloading my problems on you still on the table? I could REALLY use a friend right now.

He texted back a moment later. I'd have to move some appointments around, but I think Dr. Black can squeeze you in.

I scoffed in laughter as I imagine Jake as a shrink. I'm at First Beach drowning my sorrows if you want to join me.

Be there in a sec.

I put my phone down and watched the waves. There was something cathartic about watching the water lap the shore. Over and over, the ocean meeting the shoreline. I glanced at the bottle of tequila that was two thirds gone now. It might've also been the alcohol.

"You were serious when you said that you were drowning your sorrows."

I looked up to Jacob, who was dressed like he had just come from basketball practice – Jordan high-tops, a pair of loose basketball shorts and a ratty t-shirt. He took a seat next to me on the sand.

"I'm always serious." I said and offered him the bottle. "You want some?"

"I'm good, thanks." He smiled, which faded. "Everything okay? I mean, I know that's probably a stupid question since you're sitting on the beach with alcohol and that's a pretty good indicator that you've hit rock bottom. But, still…"

"Is this rock bottom?" My eyebrows furrowed at the tequila. "I couldn't tell."

"You tell me."

I sighed and looked back out to the waves. "I don't think it's rock bottom." I said. "I think my life is the Rocky Mountains where I can't tell where rock bottom is because everything sits a mile over sea level."

"You…kind of lost me in that metaphor."

"Up," I put my hand in the air. "and down. It's my life. Up and down. Like the mountains."

"Is it your mom?"

I should've fucking swallowed you. I started to cry, tears hot on my face and nodded, the ocean going blurry again. I felt a hand on my back, rubbing small circles.

I hated to lie. And I hated it because I did it so often with my mother. I lied to her when she would ask me to do something absurd and I would tell her that I did it. Or when she would realize that they went off on me and apologized for it and I told her it didn't bother me. I lied to the medical staff hired to take care of her when they would ask if I knew how long she'd been without medication and I would tell them that I didn't know, even though I counted her pills everyday. I lied to people when they asked about the finger-shaped bruises on my arm or the welts I would leave by the force of my own fingernails. I lied to Charlie when she would slip up throughout the years, assuring him everything was fine so I wouldn't be separated from her.

But, the worst was the lies I told myself. That everything was fine. That I had control, when I didn't. That was the worst lie, in my opinion and I told it so often to myself that it started to sound like the truth in my own head. I never had control and I never would. It was a choice that Renee had to make herself. It wasn't something I could do for her.

"Jacob, real talk for a second." I said suddenly as I continued to watch the waves. "Have you ever been hit by your parents?"

"Well, I feared my dad's belt on my bottom growing up-,"

"No," I shook my head. "Like popped in the head so hard you lost consciousness?" My fingers went into my hair again, to my scar. "Hit so hard you bled?"

He was silent for a long moment. I could feel him oscillate between seething and despondency. "No, Bella." He finally whispered. "I haven't."

I looked up into his eyes, which were so brown they were black and wide as discs on me. "Well, I have." I said, speaking the truth about my scar for the first time in my entire existence. "And it fucking sucks."

April 11, 2017

I got drunk. Not the medicated-black-out kind of drunk like what happened last Halloween. This was the loose-lipped-happy kind of drunk that made my ears buzz and my chest warm and the small fire that Jacob set up in one of the many fire pits on the beach glow gold.

After thoroughly unloading myself onto Jacob, I felt a lot better, freer. I talked about things I wouldn't normally dare admit into actual words. But, Jacob was correct: he was a good listener. He was an amazing listener. And a better friend.

And then we got off the subject of my screwed up life. Half due to the tequila, half due to Jacob, who made everything funny. And did an amazing job of distraction. He could be apart of a bomb disposal team; he was that good at diffusion. I felt like bubble, floating and floating all the way up to the atmosphere.

"Edward's a good kisser." I allowed. Our conversation, which had taken every turn it could possibly go, landed on everyone's favorite subject: sex. "It's the, um, endurance on the other part we have to work on."

Jacob groaned, his hands covering his face. "I do not want to hear this about my brother." He looked at me suddenly, a thought occurring to him, his copper-color skin reflecting the fire, turning him otherworldly. "Did you lose it to him?" He whispered.

I looked around the empty beach and then leaned forward. "Why are you whispering? We're all alone."

Jacob laughed as he looked around. "I guess we are."

"I did not." I answered his question. "I lost my virginity to my camp counselor between freshman and sophomore year. We did it under a rowboat."

"That's…odd."

I shrugged as I watched the waves, were starting to rock back and forth now that I was satisfactorily sloshed. A mischievous smile made its way over my face, but I shrugged casually. "She was cute in a Zooey Deschanel kind of way."

Jacob's eyes widened. "You lost your virginity to a girl?"

I laughed at his expression and then squinted at the rocking waters. "Is it bad I don't remember her name?"

He shook his head. "I guess not."

"What about you?" I elbowed Jacob into the arm. "Did you American Pie it away? Hooker?"

Jacob laughed and then looked at his hands. "No," He shook his head. "There was a girl here on the rez that I dated for a little bit off and on. Her name was Leah. I lost it to her."

"Leah?" I repeated. I had heard that name before. One of Charlie's friends, I think. I sifted through my drunk thoughts. "Clearwater?"

Jacob raked his fingers through his hair. "Yeah," He said. "Edward stayed in this transitional facility in PA while he was getting off the trache from April-ish of twenty-fourteen to July. I spent a lot of time at Harry's shop during that time." He shrugged.

"That's why you're so good at cars." I nodded, putting it together.

"Well," He flexed his bicep. "I'm just that talented too."

"Speaking of talent," I said. "Where do you think you're going to go for school?"

I watched him sigh with his whole body, his eyebrows furrowing. "I don't know. UW makes the most sense. It's closer to home."

"But…" I started for him.

"But…" His hands came up. "Stanford."

"Then why not go with Stanford?"

He sighed again. "You know we have sisters, right?"

"Yeah. Rachel and Rebecca."

"Do you know why they never come home?"

I shook my head, a little lost at his train of thought. "Aren't they like twelve years older than you guys or something?"

"Thirteen, actually. But, we never see them because Mom never tells them anything about Edward. She just lies to them. 'He's fine. Just fine. We're all fine.'" He shook his head. "He literally has to be dying for my mother to pick up the phone and say something to them. I'm pretty sure they don't even know he went through cancer again unless he told them himself, which I'm pretty sure he didn't because he's like Mom in that way." He sighed. "I just don't want to end up like them, being kept out of the loop to protect me. Being kept out of the loop until it's too late."

I rubbed my hands on my jeans. "You can still go to Stanford and still be in the loop."

"I know." He looked at his hands. "But, I wouldn't want to go if Edward couldn't come with, you know?"

I thought about that for a moment, chewing on it through a haze of drunken thoughts. Edward was set to graduate this year. He had made up all of his assignments that he missed, got his days missed waived by the principal and worked with his teachers on homework he'd have to miss for his appointments.

However, that didn't mean he was going to go to college in the fall. His immune system was still developing and he needed to be within arm's reach of the physicians who knew him in case something happened. He relied on his caretakers – his mother and me, sort of – to assist him with daily stuff. He wasn't exactly ready to stake it out on his own.

But, that shouldn't stop Jacob. He didn't have those same limitations. That wasn't fair to him. I looked back onto the water. That's not what Edward would want.

"Edward would want you to go to Stanford." I almost whispered.

"It's not Edward's choice." He grumbled. "It's my choice."

My phone rang in my lap and I picked it up, expecting my mother and saw Phil and his photo – with his dirty blonde hair and striking blue eyes – flash on my screen. "Hello? Phil?"

"Bella," He greeted. "I got your message."

"Have you talked to Mom?" I said rushed, my words coming out fast and slurred.

"Yeah," He said. "I got her."

"She hasn't been taking her meds." I stood up and paced around, kicking up gray sand. The light bubbly feeling in my chest was replaced with the familiar dread and hollowness that I associated with Renee's schizophrenia. "She's been calling all day."

"I know." He said. "I'm sorry. I went up to Flagstaff for a conference last week and just got back today. Found her in the front yard, staking out our neighbors." He laughed.

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah," He said. "She's sleeping now. Are you okay, Bella?"

Fucking whore bitch. I almost choked up again, my fingernails running over my skin to keep myself together. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You sound…drunk?"

"Just tired." I managed. "Thanks for calling me back, Phil."

"No problem, Liberty Bell. Get some rest."

"Thanks." I hung up the phone and sat back down next to Jacob. The world was starting to spin and the fire didn't look inviting anymore. It looked cold and predatory, like staring in the pits of hell.

I felt Jacob's hand on mine and he lifted it off. "You're scratching welts."

I looked down to little red lines on my skin and made a noise. "I used to cut…before…" I winced. "But, you tend to fear blood after waking up in a puddle of your own…" The words tumbled out unchecked, half-slurred and bitter with honesty and misery.

"Bella," Jacob put his arm around my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I was scared she would be locked up." I whispered, my eyes misting with tears. "I was scared that she would be taken away from me. I do love her. I love her with all my heart."

He fell silent, his hand running over my shoulder. I let the waves calm me back down, suddenly feeling really tired. "I think I'm ready to go home."

April 11, 2017

I pressed my socked feet to the padded ceiling of Jacob's Mustang as I laid on his back seat. I had taken off my boots and was wearing two different socks – a pink polka dotted one and a neon green one. I wiggled my toes and sang very loudly to the Killers, which I had going on Jacob's stereo.

Jacob had corralled me to his car while he figured out how to get my truck with me not driving it home. I told him I could get an Uber, but he said they didn't run in La Push. I offered to call a cab – also didn't run in La Push. I told him I could drive, to which he said "That's fucking stupid, Bella. You're drunk."

I was drunk. And I was definitely feeling like it now. My head swam and my thoughts felt heavy when I formed them in my head. I wanted to do nothing but fall asleep. Maybe sing karaoke first? Get McDonald's? My stomach growled at the thought of greasy, horrible fast food.

I popped up and stuck my head out of the window, finding Jacob pacing around next to car. "Can we get McDonald's?" I put my chin on the edge of the window.

He was scowling, though. He groaned in frustration. "I'll just…I'll explain it to you when we pick you up, okay?"

"Who are we picking up?" I asked with a wave. Did he hear my question about McDonald's?

"Edward." Jacob turned once he hung up, his hulking figure looking downright menacing in the low light. I wouldn't want to come across him in a dark alley.

A shot of horror rang through me like a gong. My already swimming head felt like snow globe as it shook up with emotions. "Edward?! Why would you call him? Why would you do that?" I asked and got out of the car, crunching on the pavement with no shoes.

"I tried calling others first," Jake said. "But, nobody's picking up."

"But, I texted you because I didn't want to unload on Edward and he's going to be upset that I'm out here by myself and-," I felt my hands go to my forehead in panic as I tried to figure out how to get out of this. "You have to call him back." I motioned to his phone. "Tell him 'nevermind, it was prank' or something."

"I'll handle Edward." He put his hand on my shoulder and gently guided me back into the backseat of his car. "Just chill, okay?"

I got back into the seat, flopping on my back across the bench. I put a socked foot – the pink polka dotted one on the ceiling – and focused hard. He's going to be mad. I thought as I squinted at it. I scowled at myself, my arms circling around me. "Join the club." I whispered and closed my eyes.

The salt in the reviews is delicious. I LOVE salty reviews. Means I'm doing my job as a writer correctly hahaha fear not it will get better (I DID say I was an ExB stan) or will it get worse? *slides on tinfoil hat*

Anyway, a bit of character development for ol' Bells here. I think this adds some clarity. Let's see what Edward does with all of this? HmMmMmMm