I do not own Twilight.
The eye of a policeman must be keen to scrutiny because the second I enter the house, Charlie glances at the red marks across my wrist, and I can see the question on the tip of his tongue.
"It's not from him," I state simply, throwing my bag onto the table.
"Who's him?" he asks and I glance over at him, because he knows who 'him' is.
"If you're trying to tell me that someone did this to your wrist, I'm going to need a name and social security information," he says and I think it's supposed to be a joke, but I know it's not. His tone says it's not. "And if you're trying to tell me Edward didn't do this, that's not who I was thinking would do this," he adds.
His finger taps along the belt of his jeans at an agitated rate and I know he's fighting his man-of-the-law disposition to slap cuffs on anyone who engages in domestic violence.
"I tried to slap him," I say because, for some reason, I think it needs to be said.
He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter," he insists.
Then he looks at me, and the worry lines make me remember just what he's been through over the past few months. Not just with being shot, but with me and Edward as well.
"Who did you try to slap?"
"Why do you think it wasn't Edward?" I ask instead because, honestly, I'm confused too. Edward's the one with anger issues, so why is it the one I date without anger issues that's hurt me?
"Because," Charlie says, and I think he's gonna leave it there, but he continues after a while. "I've known that kid longer than you. Yeah, he gets in fights and yeah, I've had to turn an eye a couple of times to keep him out of juvie, but that kid would never lay a hand on you."
I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything.
"I've never been unsure about you dating that kid," he says. "Ever."
I look away from his scrutinizing eyes.
"It was Mike," I say, changing the subject quickly because I don't want to fall down this hole right now. I want to be blank; I want to forget everything that happened today.
Charlie's eyes are drilling a hole in the side of my head, but still I don't look up at him.
"That son of a—" he cuts himself off. "You gonna press charges?" It's a question, but I can tell by the look on his face that he knows what answer he wants.
I shake my head anyway. "I think I antagonized him. Doesn't matter, I'm going to break up with him anyways." If the meaning isn't already clear enough.
Charlie seems a little surprised, and then suspicious and I know where his thoughts have gone.
"I was thinking about it before I went to visit," I say quietly, staring down at my hands, trying not to look at the red outline of fingers on my right wrist. I know they'll bruise in a couple of days.
"I just…" I sigh. "We wouldn't be happy together, in the long run." Especially now. And especially since we already live as though we have no idea what the other wants out of life.
"I'll take you to get your stuff," he says. "I'm not letting you go in alone."
I nod, because it's the only reaction he'd want out of me. He doesn't do the tears and emotional monologue bit.
"You gonna come back home for a while?" he asks, but I shake my head.
"I still have half a semester left. I'll stay with Rose if she'll let me, and pay out the rest of my half of the rent to Mike," I say.
Charlie shakes his head. "You should really make a report at least," he says, but he knows that I won't because I've already decided not to.
"It was just a weird day with weird circumstances. He's never acted violently towards me before. I'm just…" I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "I'm just going to move on," I say.
And I really, really hope that I can, in more ways than one.