26

Bella could hear people talking around her, but she couldn't focus on what they were saying. She was aware that they had moved from her old bedroom, downstairs to the living room. She heard phrases like "Waiting for confirmation on who was inside," and "the police are saying it was a busted fuel line," but she hadn't paid attention to any of them.

Edward kept her in his arms, holding her together, but he didn't lie to her and tell her it would be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. Her only reason for living, the only part of her life that had been worth fighting for, was gone. How was she ever going to live without Charlie?

"Bella?"

At the sound of her name, she looked over at her brother, who was sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes were puffy and red, his hair a mess, and she found herself pulling away from Edward, who reached for her, and walking over to Carlisle, kneeling next to him.

"Did you know?" she asked, causing everyone to stop talking. "Did you know that they were taking her out of ice cream? Did you, Carlisle?"

"I tried to stop them. I told them they were being stupid and reckless, but—"

The sound of the palm of her hand striking his face echoed throughout the room, silencing Carlisle's feeble attempts to defend their parents, or himself. She stood up and looked around the room. Emmet and Rose, Jacob, Garrett, and Kate stared at her with pity and sorrow, just like they had when they first found her locked away in Hell. Only Alice and Jasper appeared to grieve the loss of the little girl.

"B—"

Bella shook her head, stopping Edward before he could say anything more, before he could calm her down. She didn't want to be calmed down. "Fuck all of you."

And without giving anyone the chance to stop her, Bella turned and ran out of the house, across the yard, and down the street. However, she barely got more than a block when a pair of arms wrapped around her, and pulled her to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Carlisle cried. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"My daughter," she wept, grabbing the front of his shirt. "He killed my daughter."

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, holding her as tightly as he could. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he rambled.

But it didn't matter. No matter how sorry he was. Charlie was gone, and Bella was dead inside.