18+

XLII

I don't go to school for the rest of the week.

Charlie calls to ask why, but only because they called him.

I tell him I have my period and he shuts up instantly, racing to get off the phone with me.

He's never been able to handle that side of things. That's why his secretary taught me how to put a tampon in when I was thirteen. Why I had the sex talk from our old neighbour, back when we lived in Washington.

I've known three version of Charlie.

The first version, when my mom was alive, was daddy. He was at every school function, read to me every night, taught me how to ride a bike and cuddled me when I cried. Then when I was eight, she died in a hit and run, and he became dad. He was gone more, and we talked less, played less, but when it counted, he showed up.

When I was fifteen, it came out that the hit and run was a rich kid, and the whole thing was covered up by his dad, with a little help from a well-paid team of lawyers of course. The only reason we even knew anything was because the kid came forwards and admitted what he did. That's when dad became Charlie.

And we moved here.

Charlie eats sleeps and breathes work. He's called a force of nature, the lawyer with a vendetta. I've heard people call him a shark, a blood hound, ruthless. Once he catches a whiff of corruption he won't stop until he's torn everything around him to pieces.

Charlie doesn't have a daughter.

If I left this house tomorrow, he wouldn't notice I was gone until someone else informed him.

I stare up at my spot on the ceiling, my room in darkness, like it's been all week.

I can't have any light in here.

Light reminds me of bronze hair and freckles against my sheets, heavy breaths and cheeky grins, laughter and desire and all those things that I want but I can't have.

Love is ephemeral.

It rings, perhaps, but then the sound fades, until even the echoes are gone.

My dad loved me once.

My friends from Washington.

None of them love me anymore.

I don't forbid love, I allow it, but I never hold onto it. It's slippery, it doesn't stick.

I love my friends, but I don't pretend that they'll love me forever.

You can let the door to your heart be open, as long as you never shut love inside. Love always escapes anyway, no matter how hard you try and hold the door closed. Let them walk in and out of an open door, so they don't break it down.

I know that if he walks in, the door will close behind him, whether I want it to or not, and when he breaks down that door, it'll be damaged forever.

So he can never come in.

There's a knock at the door downstairs, but I don't answer. I don't move.

He can never come in.


A/N Think this is my favourite chapter of the lot. I hope you understand Bella a bit more now. Sorry for the days gap. More tomorrow x