I hope everyone is doing okay and staying safe ... and also, Happy September!

An enormous bucket of "thank you's" go to everyone who reads and reviews. You're all amazing!

Even MORE thank you's go out to Fran, Mr G and Me, and Monica03 for all of their help. Seriously, they're amazing. Thank you! (Any mistakes you see are my own.)

SM owns everything Twilight.

After this holiday, my classmates and the good citizens of Forks won't have to wonder about my sanity. Furthermore, I'll no longer need to lie about it, either, because I know by the time all of my grandparents leave, my new home will be crazy-ville.

Population: five.

If I were an ordinary dramatic teenager, I'd say it was only happening to me, but it's not. The rest of my family is just as affected as I am, so at least I'll be in good company.

The past few days leading up to Thanksgiving have been a nightmare.

Grandmother has been bickering about anything and everything. Mom's recent behavior and appearance has been a huge topic, followed closely by the way we kids behave. At the end of each visit, Grandmother is kicked out, and Mom disappears for a few hours to "walk off some steam" in the woods behind the house. While she's gone, Dad hovers anxiously near the back door until she returns, completely calm and relaxed.

Gran hasn't been that much better with her studious stares and bitching with Grandmother. She fights her on everything she says, which is extremely funny, but at the same time, annoying. I agree Grandmother needs to be taken down a peg or two, but the constant arguing is giving me a headache.

Today, I know it won't be any different.

It's Thanksgiving, and I can hear the pots and pans banging from the kitchen as Mom starts to prep for the meal.

Tension is already thick in the house, and I bang my head against my pillow, wishing it were harder. Maybe then I would be able to knock myself out until Thanksgiving is over.

Through my closed door, I hear Rose's door slowly squeak, followed by her muffled curse as she attempts to be quiet.

My eyebrows raise into my hairline as I note the time, seeing it's way too early to be going anywhere. Not caring about being as quiet or subtle as Rose, I throw open my door and hiss out her name. She's frozen at the top of the stairs, frozen like a prowler that had been caught; arms slightly extended, one foot hovering midair and eyes wide and fearful.

I chuckle lowly, leaning against the doorframe. At my laughter, she huffs and relaxes.

"Yes, yes, it's very funny. What are you doing up?" she grumbles, shuffling over to me.

"Where are you sneaking off to? I thought you had copious amounts of homework and studying to do?"

She nods. "I do, but I have to get out," she replies, her voice taking on a slightly desperate edge. Even her eyes go momentarily wild as she wraps a strand of blonde hair around her finger and pulls. "I can't stay in this house a moment longer. I think I'll flip … if I haven't already."

"I understand the feeling," I murmur before nudging her, making her hair twirling cease. "You didn't answer me, by the way. Where are you going? It's Thanksgiving. Nothing is open."

"To see Vera," is her quirk reply.

I raise an eyebrow, highly suspicious of this; she's already been to see Vera and told Mom she's suffering extreme morning sickness that keeps her indisposed for long periods of the day. In fact, when she went to see her yesterday, she told us she barely got to see her, since she was so ill.

Most of her day with Vera was spent in her room, listening to her vomit from the adjacent bathroom.

I don't doubt that Rose wouldn't go to help her in a heartbeat, considering the type of person Rose is. What I do doubt, however, is Rose interfering with Vera's mother and her fiancée, who's been at her side every minute of the day.

Knowing Rose, she wouldn't crowd them or get in their way; she'd be there as Vera's friend and nothing more.

So, where is she going this early in the morning?

"Really? Is she feeling better?"

Rose averts her eyes, her focus intent on a loose thread from the hem of her sweater.

"Yeah, she's okay," she responds, furiously plucking at the string.

I hum under my breath, not believing her for her second. She's a terrible liar when she wants to be, and this time, I definitely know she's lying.

After a few moments, she finally breaks. "Okay, I'm not going to see Vera. I'm going to see Emmett. He's taking me to get breakfast because he has tried to cook for me, but that didn't turn out so well," she rambles. "He blew up the microwave and set the oven on fire ... I still haven't figured out how he did that."

"Okay, breathe," I interject, raising my hands. "It's nice to hear he tried to cook for you, but I don't know why you're rambling."

She huffs, throwing up her arms. "I don't know either! See? I'm nuts! And FYI, there are places open. Mostly for the people that don't have family or are working. I checked before suggesting this to Em. Aunt Renee knows I'm leaving, but I want to leave before Gran finds out."

Mimicking her motions from a second ago, I throw my hands up in the air and shake my head while simultaneously rolling my eyes. "Why didn't you just say that? Jeez, it's not like I don't know you're dating."

Uncharacteristically, her cheeks take on a pink hue, and she ducks her head, biting the corner of her lip. "I know, I know. It's just … new. He's so different from—"

I stop her, not wanting to hear his name. The memories of him don't deserve to be in the present, nor does he deserve acknowledgment.

"I get it … and that's good. I'm happy for you." I pause, not knowing how to broach my next question. I don't want to give Royce and what he put us through another thought, but I have to know something. I just wish I knew how to present it.

Rose, being the intuitive person she is, reaches forward and grabs my hand. "Everything is different this time, Bella. Emmett … he listens to me. He values my opinion. He's letting me do things at my pace, in my own time. He's … I don't know. When I'm with him, I don't feel on edge and nervous like I did with Royce," she hesitates, a puzzled expression crossing her features. "I don't know; I feel relaxed and peaceful. Like, it's right for me, like he's right for me."

I blink in surprise, wondering how she can feel so strongly for him when she hasn't known him that long and dated him for even less. Can two people really form a connection that quickly?

Recalling my parent's tales of their relationship, I would say yes, but right now, it seems so different. In my eyes, they've always been adults. It's not logical, because I know they've been my age once, but I suppose since I had never witnessed it, it's difficult to imagine.

For Rose, a kid like me, to say something so intense and reminiscent of my parent's stories, it simply seems completely illogical.

What I can't ignore, however, is how much happier Rose has been since she and Emmett started dating. She's right about one thing; her relationship with him is completely different from how she was with Royce.

Instead of being frazzled and eager to keep him happy, she's been relaxed and happy herself, and I've caught her more than once with a small smile on her face.

An incredulous laugh leaves her as her head falls backward, her eyes trained on the ceiling. "Shit, listen to me. I sound like a nut. I've only known him for a short time," she mumbles, scrubbing a hand over her face. "It's how I feel, though. Maybe it's infatuation or hormones or something. I don't know."

Pushing my thoughts aside, I squeeze her hand. "Who knows? Maybe you'll end up like Mom and Dad."

A contented smile forms on her lips, and her reply is soft and dreamy-like. "Yeah, maybe."

"Why didn't you say something, though? I wouldn't have said anything rude or teasing. Much."

Her lips quirk in a half-grin. "I know. I just didn't want the grandparents to know. This visit has been less than pleasant. With Grandmother on her high horse and Gran kicking up trouble … not to mention her hovering, I'm surprised any of us can do or say anything without one of them behind us making comments or asking pointless questions."

I nod in agreement. While Grandmother's behavior is normal for her, Gran's is the exact opposite. All day yesterday, she kept a close eye on all of us, asking us if we were happy and if we felt safe. I think her inquires went far beyond hearing about the recent crime spree in Forks, but I haven't called her out on it.

Honestly, I find her line of questioning rather inane. Of course, it's probably hard to tell since we've all been morose and moody since they arrived.

"Hopefully, Gran will back off loosen up soon then, she'll back off."

Rose hums under her breath, eying me speculatively. Her eyes narrow, and lips purse the longer she stares, her head tilting from left to right ever so slightly.

"Why do you think she's acting this way?" she finally asks.

I shrug a shoulder, meeting her gaze. "Don't know; she's shocked over Mom's changes. Maybe she's worried things here at home aren't as happy as we're making it seem."

Her eyes narrow further, and her mouth opens to say something more, but she stops short. "Never mind," she mumbles. "It's not possible."

"Anything and everything is possible," I tell her seriously, raising an eyebrow.

Her mouth falls open in a gasp, but before she can say anything, I continue. "It's good to know you're not good at everything. You suck at sneaking around," I tease. "I'm not going to count on you to get us out of high-pressure situations. In fact, if we have to sneak out of somewhere, let me go first."

The shock she was wearing fades as she shakes her head, seemingly pushing whatever she was thinking from her thoughts. "Why? So you can escape and leave me behind?"

"Me? I would never! But yes."

She snorts a laugh. "Oh, you're hysterical."

"I try."

"Yeah, go get a day job because comedy isn't your strong suit."

"I'll take that under advisement."

"You're completely warped." Before I can respond, she continues. "What are you doing up anyway? Normally you sleep like the dead."

The overwhelming urge to fidget comes over me as she continues to stare, her eyes tracing over the features of my face. Gently, she raises one hand, the tip of her index finger moving over the skin underneath my eyes.

I avert them, so I don't see her knowing expression, but it's no use. I can feel her worry penetrating every pore.

"You're not sleeping," she outright says, her words a statement, not a question.

I don't want this to be made into some big thing, so I deflect. "Of course, I'm sleeping. If I weren't, then I'd be running around hallucinating and talking in riddles. Before long, I'd be in the hospital and—"

"Bella," she snaps, pressing her lips tightly together. "I know you're not sleeping. Don't lie to me."

"I'm sleeping," I insist.

While it's not the truth, it's not a complete lie either. I am sleeping … it's just not a full eight hours … or even six.

Multiple times I'm woken by my nightmares over what happened on Halloween night. It pisses me off because now my favorite holiday is slightly tarnished by mine and Jess's attack.

It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself it's all over or that Jess is okay, I still see Laurent's menacing grin as he lunges for us.

I've taken to humming random songs, hoping my subconscious will find the one I had heard before in my dreams, but I haven't had any luck so far. Now, I'm just hoping that these nightmares will weed themselves out with time … and the arrival of the grandparents.

"You're not sleeping well," she amends. "And probably not for very long. What's going on?"

Knowing lying is useless, I opt for another way around the truth. "Nothing. I'm just working through some stuff. I'll be fine; I'm probably doing it to myself because I heard a song, and now I can't find it."

Suspicion floods her face. "What song?"

I hum the parts I remember and watch as her recognition lights her features. "Do you know it?" I ask, excited.

My hope falls as she shakes her head. "No, not the title, but I've heard it before. I'll do some searching and let you know."

"Thanks."

"You need to try and sleep," she tells me, motioning to my room with a jerk of her chin. "Take one of Aunt Renee's all-natural sleeping pills if you have to. But you need to sleep. You can't continue on like this.

I nod, even though the idea of taking something isn't the way I want to go. Then again, maybe, it's just what I need; I'll sleep deeply and most likely won't dream. It's a win-win for me.

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Good. I'll tell Aunt Renee, and she'll let you rest."

I snort at this. I know my parents will let me sleep; however, it's the grandparents that will be the ones who have the issue.

8*8*8*8*8*8

"Unbelievable," I hear muttered through my cocoon of blankets, followed by a light shaking of my mattress. "She's still sleeping, and it's past noon, and the meal my daughter slaved over is almost ready. Kids these days, I swear."

"Leave her alone, you crotchety old woman," another snaps. "She needs her rest, and I didn't hear you offer to help Renee in the kitchen."

"I don't cook," Grandmother says with a sniff.

"Oh, it figures! You probably have someone to do that for you, right? Do you have someone to wipe your ass too? Hey, the next time they help you with that, ask them to remove the stick that's lodged up there."

"You're so uncivilized and uncouth!" There's a moment of silence, and then there's a scoff of indignation. "I rest my case. I should have never let my daughter marry your son. You've all corrupted her and my grandbabies; sleeping late, their wild hair colors and clothes … not to mention sneaking out before dawn! I'm appalled."

"Keep going, Beth. You'll have a stroke at this rate, and I will happily dance on your grave."

"Ugh! Get away from me, harpy!"

It takes me a moment to push past the foggy haze of sleep, and once I do, I'm able to recognize the voices instantly.

My grandmothers.

I groan softly into my pillow, but luckily they don't hear me as they continue to bicker.

"Mother! Marie!" Mom hisses, making me jump slightly. Her footsteps are so light it's hard to tell when she's coming. "I told you not to disturb Bella. She needs to sleep."

"I find her behavior completely disrespectful, Renee … and yours as well for that matter. How can you condone this? Yes, the girl needs sleep, but that's what night is for. She's sleeping the day away and completely wasting my time. I came all this way to see my family—"

"Mother, we can continue this conversation downstairs. Now."

There's a moment of intense silence, and I imagine Grandmother and Mom are locked into a staring contest, battling with their stubborn wills.

Thankfully, Mom appears to win as Grandmother huffs, and her heavy irate stomping grows distant as she heads downstairs.

"Is she all right, Renee?" Gran questions, her voice gentle, but there's also a note of suspicion. "I'm sure things haven't been all that calm or relaxing here—"

"What are you implying, Marie?"

Gran is quick to answer. "Nothing! I'm just worried about you and my family. I know you're going through—"

"I appreciate your concern, but everything is fine, as we told you. Dr. Cullen wouldn't have released me if he wasn't sure I would be okay, and Charlie wouldn't have let me come within a mile of this house either; you know your son, he's just as stubborn and pigheaded as you."

Gran chuckles. "Well, he's definitely found his match."

"He has; now, please. Leave."

There's a moment of silence, and then the bed dips, and the covers are pulled away from my face. I blink against the sudden onslaught of brightness, and once my eyes adjust, I see my mother's gentle smile. "Hi, baby. Did you sleep well?"

I shrug and make a face, still feeling groggy. "I feel like I could sleep more."

The sound she makes is a sympathetic one. "I know," she murmurs, running her fingers through my hair, tenderly working through the knots that have developed while I've obviously tossed and turned like a maniac.

"I'm sorry," she continues. "I tried to hold them off as long as I could, telling them you needed to rest, but your Grandmother snuck up here while I was basting the turkey."

A throaty, sleepy chuckle bubbles up to my throat. "I can't believe they got past you."

Mom huffs, looking displeased. "I was distracted. I thought it was burning because your Gran said it might have been in there too long." She ends this statement by rolling her eyes. "It's not burnt, thank goodness, so that's a relief." She pauses, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "It's probably best you don't sleep longer, though. Your Grandmother will have a fit, and you won't sleep tonight."

I don't bother to mention that any sleep I get won't be restful anyway; even though I had slept this morning, I know it wasn't easy and dream free.

The knot in my stomach tells me so.

"Okay, let's get this hell-show over with," I say with a deep sigh, throwing back the covers.

Mom frowns heavily. "Bella," she scolds.

"What? Is that not an apt phrase for this situation?"

There's a moment of silence as she fights her smile, trying to remain stern and mature. Finally, she laughs, smothering the sound with the palm of her hand. "It is. Come," she invites, standing and holing out her hand. "You can taste-test some side dishes for me."

I allow her to help me up, stepping in front of her. The frown from earlier comes back as her gaze roams my face. Without a word, she pulls me into her arms, rocking us from side to side as she hugs me.

There's a slew of sarcastic things I can say at this moment, but I refrain. Instead, I close my eyes and lean into her comforting embrace. Right now, I feel five years old again, waking from a bad dream and feeling ten times better just because Mom is here with me.

"Everything okay?" Dad's entrance is quiet like Mom's, no doubt useful for when he's working on a case and following a suspect.

He's not always noiseless, though. Most of the time, you can hear his heavy footfalls and the protesting floorboards underneath his feet. It's been useful in the past when Rose, Jasper, and I were being sneaky, but now I'm wondering just how much he's heard.

Is he naturally silent, or does he sometimes let us slide when we want to keep secrets? If he does, let us slide, should I be grateful or scared?

On the one hand, I'm definitely grateful; the shit we've said and done would definitely warrant a punishment in my eyes. On the other, if Dad knows about the crap we've done, is he holding it for blackmail purposes? Does that make him a psychopath?

Turning, I raise an eyebrow at him, wishing I could see into his head on this matter.

Dad scratches at his temple, giving Mom an imploring look as he shrugs. "What?"

She mimics the motion, staring at me with her eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Why do you sometimes make noise when you walk, and at other times you don't?" I blurt out.

Dad is silent for a moment, his face impassive as he blinks rapidly, and his eyebrows rise into his hairline as he processes what I've said. Once it clicks, the corners of his lips curl into an evil-looking smile, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Worried about something, daughter?"

Mom looks between us; her head tilted to the side as she stares, trying to join the train of thought we're on. By the way she crosses her arms and huffs, I can tell she's not there yet.

"No," I reply, my tone sounding defensive even to my ears. I take a moment, collecting myself, and then continue. "I just don't want to have a heart attack with your stealthy feet, that's all."

"You're young," Dad counters. "And you're healthy. You have nothing to worry about … on that front, anyway."

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I shake my head. "You don't know for sure; healthy people have heart attacks too, and I might have one if you sneak up on me—"

"No one is having a heart attack," Mom interrupts sternly. "I don't know what you two are going on about, but enough of it. Let's go downstairs, and you," she says, pointing in my direction. "Need to eat."

My stomach grumbles in agreement, and I follow behind her, past my snickering father, who closes our small train.

"I know all of your secrets," he sing-songs in my ear.

I have no doubt he does, with his stealthy ninja-feet, but he forgets, I know his secrets too. I may not sneak around to find them out, but I've covered for him plenty of times in the past … and the present.

"I'm sure you do … and spill my secrets if you want, but I know yours, too," I tell him, smirking when I see him pale slightly.

"You're evil. I wonder if priests make house calls."

"It's genetic," I whisper, nudging his arm.

He laughs, pulling me into a hug and loudly kissing my forehead. "I love ya, kid."

"Love you too."

"Come on, slow-pokes!" Mom calls from downstairs, rolling her eyes when she sees us.

Downstairs, Grandmother sits stoically, one hand wrapped around the half-empty coffee mug. Upon seeing us, her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth.

"You coddle your children too much. That's why they act the way they do and do what they want," Grandmother rebukes. "Like her hair. Look at that; such a shame. Her natural color was so beautiful."

"There's nothing wrong with her hair, Mother. She's beautiful." Mom places a quick kiss on my temple, brushing my hair behind my ears.

Over her shoulder, I notice Gran frown in our direction, but the look passes too quickly for anyone to see.

"I made your favorite," Mom continues, waving over to the table.

My mouth waters at the sight of homemade macaroni and cheese with breadcrumb toppings. Alongside it is a bowl of green beans and fried onions, stuffing, and sweet potatoes with golden marshmallows on top.

"I taught your mom how to cook that," Gran tells me, nodding toward my plate of mac and cheese while running her fingers through my hair. "It was your dad's favorite meal, too."

The action looks soothing and comforting on the outside, but being on the receiving end on this, I know it's not. Her fingers probe along my temple and neck in gentle swooping motions.

I raise an eyebrow in question, swallowing down my bite of food. "What'cha looking for, Gran?"

Snatching her hand away, she gives me a tight, worried smile. "Nothing, dear."

"You're using some of kind of voodoo on my family, aren't you?" Grandmother barks, pointing a bony finger in Gran's direction. "You've probably been doing it for years, you witch!"

"Mom," Dad warns, his lips pressing down into a grimace and completely ignoring Grandmother. "We talked about this."

Gran steps back and nods once, her head falling forward. "I know. I'm sorry, I'm just worried—"

"What on earth are you people talking about?" Grandmother interrupts, looking at everyone with bewilderment. "You're all brainwashed! I knew I should have taken you and Lillian out of this hell-hole when you and Lillian were pregnant!"

"Mother, there's nothing wrong with us."

Grandmother wags a finger in her direction. "Oh, yes, there is. You're all acting strange; you, especially, Renee. You're different and—"

"Can it, Beth!" Gran barks, the tension in the air rising to an uncomfortable level.

"Why you little—"

Not wanting things to escalate further, I cut in, hoping to diffuse the situation and change the subject. "Where's Grandpa?"

He's not anywhere I can see, and since he and Grandmother hadn't stayed here last night, I imagine he's still at the hotel, but I don't know why. Shouldn't he be here to spend time with us?

Grandmother throws her hands up in the air, gesturing wildly in my direction. "This is your influence," she seethes, glaring first at Gran and then Dad. "You're both so beneath my family. My daughter should have raised her standards and found her a better caliber of husband … one the family is worthy of—"

She's cut off by Gran's raucous laughter, while I sit and seethe, my jaw gently clicking in uneven bursts as I grind my teeth.

"Worthy of your family," Gran mocks, sticking her nose in the air. "You're not from a fancy area, honey. Have you forgotten you were born in Forks? Generations of your family were born here, Beth. And you were all lower class too. You forget, I grew up with you; I remember you wearing holey clothes from thrift shops and your poor father working two jobs to support your family. That was a good man; what happened? Were you switched at birth? Adopted? I pray my Bella doesn't inherit your crazy, and I thank my lucky stars Rosalie and Jasper don't share your DNA."

"She's already doomed! She's half of him," Grandmother seethes, pointing in Dad's direction. "He's a deviant that took advantage of my daughter, and now he's ruining my granddaughter, just like he ruined Renee's life!"

"My father is a good man," I grind out, unable to keep silent any longer, slamming my hand on the table with each word uttered.

During Gran's speech, all she did was glare at Grandmother and Dad, shooting them contemptuous looks and raise her nose in the air like she's better than them.

Dad and Gran aren't saints and are sometimes pains—the latter being the biggest at the moment—but they're still good people, and I won't have anyone, regardless of who they are, talk bad about them.

"Dad works hard for our family and for this town. He protects us and nearly killed himself trying to find who was abducting and killing people around here! He may not come from the upper class, but do you see him talking against you while you run him into the ground? No!"

"Bella," Dad softly says, placing a hand on my arm. "It's okay. Sit down."

I shake off his hand and firmly shake my head, the fingers of my right hand curling into my palm, my fingernails cutting into the flesh. "No, I won't sit! Stop talking about my father in such a disgusting manner! Looking down your nose on people doesn't make you a better person; it makes you a bitch! And as for my mother, she's happy with her life! If you would come visit more than once a year and stay longer than an hour, you'd see that!"

Gran nods with approval, but I'm just getting started. "And Gran, I love you, but Mom is fine. We're all happy and healthy, so stop studying her so closely! She's been through a lot and doesn't need your constant observing! Butt the hell out!"

Ashamed, she looks away, busing herself with wiping down the stove.

"You're a heathen," Grandmother hisses. "This is what happens when you have no discipline! If your parents won't do it, I will!"

She rises, flattening her hand, and cocking her arm back. I ready myself, bracing for her impending strike, but Dad shoots up from his chair, sending it flying back into the hall. Quicker than I've ever seen him move, he grabs her arms and shoots her a deadly look.

"You touch my kid, and you'll regret it, Beth. I mean it."

Even as he lets her arm go, he levels her with a deadly look, never taking his eyes off her. Gaping, Grandmother slowly lowers her hand and takes a step back.

I smirk in her direction, satisfied that she was put her in place even though, in reality, it's not nearly enough.

"Bella," Mom gasps, taking my hand in hers.

Turning to see what has her so upset, I find she's mad at me but concerned. Following her line of sight, I see a small sliver of dark red oozing from beneath my middle fingernail and instantly release my hand. Immediately, throbbing engulfs the fleshy part of my palm, sending blood moving quicker from my open wound.

Gran inhales sharply, as do I, and at the same time, we both move. Gran moves forward in an effort to reach me while I move back toward my father.

To my shock, Mom stops me with a firm hand, leading me over to the sink.

She holds my hand under the warm stream of water, her fingers delicately washing the already bruising area.

"It's okay," she murmurs, and I believe her.

There's an aura of calm surrounding her and a peacefulness in her face that would be hard to disguise. All of that in itself calms me, and my tense muscles relax, my uninjured hand hitting the cabinet with a dull thump.

Behind Mom, Gran looks over her shoulder, watching Mom's face carefully as she helps me clean my wound. Every so often, Mom glances at her from the corner of her eye, but says nothing, and carries on as if nothing is happening.

Loudly, Dad clears his throat and gives a sheepish Gran a pointed look. She nods once, the apples of her cheeks blossoming into a dark pink color. It's the first time I've seen her look embarrassed; I want to take out my cell phone and document it because I know no one will believe me.

Before stepping away, Gran whispers something in Mom's ear, which makes her smile in gratitude, but she never falters from bandaging my palm. It seems whatever problem Gran had with Mom is over and done with, based on the proud and amazed look on her face, I'm not ready to forgive just yet.

I focus on Mom as she puts the finishing touches on my hand, patting my arm once she's done. "You're good to go."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Now that that's settled," Dad starts, remaining in between myself and Grandmother. "We need to talk; all of us. Bella, why don't you head out and I'll call you when we eat?"

Having no problem with that, I nod and wave goodbye to my parents, not trusting myself to behave politely toward my grandparents.

"You're going to let her go after the way she spoke to me?" Grandmother balks. "This is why your children—"

"Enough!" Dad shouts, slamming his hand down on the table. The salt and pepper shakers jump and fall on their sides, the contents spilling.

I, too, jump, surprised at the red hue his face is taking on.

"Sit down and be quiet, Beth. I'm speaking now," he tells her, his tone hard. "I'm sick and tired of your constant criticisms—"

Discretely, Mom shoos me from the house with a stern flick of her wrist. I want to stay and watch what's going to undoubtedly be the ass-chewing of the decade, but I don't want any of that wrath inflicted on me.

I'm glad I'm being sent away. I need to get out and calm down, but once I close the door behind me, I realize getting away won't be as easy as I thought.

In my haste, I had forgotten to grab the car keys.

I suppose I could simply go back in, but from the yelling already filtering through the wood and glass, I don't think that's a good idea.

Remembering another option I have, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Edward.

Don't read too much into this, but I need your help. I need to go somewhere. Anywhere. You available? ~B

As I wait for a reply from Edward, I walk around the front porch to gain some privacy. I'm still a little shaken about the last half hour of craziness that transpired between my family members, and the over the top reactions by Gran and Grandmother.

Yeah, there's a solid chance I'm completely insane now.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

I'll try to not keeping you waiting too long for the next one. :)