A/N: Thank you for the reviews!!! Was a lovely thing to wake up to yesterday! Unfortunately I can't reply to guest reviews, but thank you anyway. As promised, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Sixteen: 'Devil 1... Devil 2' (Bella POV)

Sunday 14 May 2017

After another hour or so at the playground, me and Edward walked to my house, where he rode my bike home. He had wanted to walk, but his house is on the other side of town and it was already late. Alice was ignoring his texts and calls, so it was obvious she wasn't coming for him. He was against taking my only means of transport at first, but after I made him promise to ride it to school the next day and leave it there for me to ride home, he was okay about it.

Since my minor breakdown at the top of that jungle gym, since I admitted the death of my father to him, we've been closer. I can feel it. It may have more to do with the fact that Edward said we are friends now.

That made my day. My week, even.

I can't put into words how happy I am about that. I know I've said in the past that it's better for me to have no friends, because I'm better on my own, and it's easier to keep my secret if I'm not close to anyone. However, I didn't know until now that I needed this. I needed just one friend, someone my age, that I can talk to and laugh with. It wasn't healthy for me to be so alone all of the time.

The only downside is that our friendship isn't exactly... conventional. We only speak to each other in the library. Any other time around school, we keep our distance. Or should I say Edward keeps his distance. I just act as I normally do. We have started speaking via cell phone after school though. Texting mainly. But we have spoken over the phone once since Tuesday. That was when Edward wanted to know my shifts at the bookstore, because he needs help finding a certain book. I'm more than happy to help.

So, overall, the rest of the week since the disastrous Monday and Tuesday has been good. I have a stable, real friendship, and my mother's been happy that I listened to her and 'went to the party'. I should feel bad about lying to her, shouldn't I? But the truth is, I don't. I'm happy that I got to do something I wanted to do, and I pleased my mom at the same time.

I'm in an unusually good mood - though these are becoming less unusual lately - as I walk through my front door after work on Sunday. Angela called me in, saying she needed help as a large delivery of new stock was due. I was there from midday to 4pm.

I happily do my chores, a smile on my face as I hum to the music playing on the stereo in the kitchen. When Renee comes home, my good mood diminishes only a bit, as it makes way for nerves. Everything seems okay, so I go back to smiling as I cook.

Dinner is surprisingly pleasant. My mom doesn't nitpick at every little thing, she doesn't hound me for information on my chores. Even after dinner, as I'm clearing the plates and cleaning the kitchen, she doesn't make a big spectacle of checking I've done everything correctly.

When I finally get into bed, I feel light. Free of any stress. It's a nice change. It's something I'm not accustomed to, but something I could get used to. I doze off laying on my left side. I can't lay on my right just yet; the bruise is still too painful to put any pressure on.

~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~

A sudden glare of blazing light wakes me up. I scrunch my eyes shut as I bury my head into my pillow. What the fuck? At first nothing happens. No sounds reach my ears. Maybe it's because I'm still half asleep that I don't hear her footsteps as she charges over to my bed, I don't hear her heavy breathing as the anger boils within her. The first clue I get that she's in the room, that she's the one who turned my light on, is the almost inhumane screech that comes from her.

"YOU STUPID GIRL!" she screams as she yanks me up into a sitting position by my hair. I cry out, reaching up to grab her wrist, to try and pull her vice like grip from my hair. She let's go, roughly pushing me away. I manage to keep myself upright.

"W-what's h-h-happened?" I ask through my tears, as I rub the sore part of my scalp. I look up at her face, blotched red with anger, and await an answer. She shoves a piece of paper at my chest.

"This happened," she spits at me. I look down at the crumpled paper, holding it out in front of me. My tears flood my vision, making it impossible to read the tiny printed words. I do recognise the Forks High School emblem at the top, however. When I don't say anything, only stare down at the page cluelessly, my fuming mother explains.

"It's a letter from your school, letting me know that you have been skipping lessons. You've been ditching classes and they wanted me to be aware of it." Renee's voice is full of anger.

"I-I-I don't... I didn't..." I try to defend myself, but I did ditch school and I did skip lessons. After I'd accused Edward of putting up the posters only to find out he'd helped me, I left with three lessons left. And again, just this Tuesday, I left during lunch after falling in front of everyone.

"Y-y-you what?" my mother parrots my nervous stutter. "Are you going to tell me that you didn't? That this is all a lie?" she asks, pointing at the paper in my hand.

"I did," I whisper, dropping my chin to my chest.

"Louder please," she demands, cupping her hand around her ear.

"I did skip school," I say quietly, but louder than before. Renee's intake of breath is quick, sharp and scary. I have no idea what her next move will be.

"Why?" she asks, exasperated. I don't answer. I sit still, not responding in any way. Bad idea, Bella. My mother seethes with anger. Anger that only builds the longer I don't make a sound. I can almost hear her blood boiling. Her next moves are so quick, so unpredictable, that I don't get the chance to react or defend myself.

I sit frozen as she swoops down, rips her slipper off of her foot, pulls her hand back, and then swings it to come into contact with my face. She uses the sole of her slipper to strike me. I'm stunned, forced to fall back down to my pillow with the strength she uses. The left side of my face stings and burns as I raise my hand to hover over it. I'm crying now. Sobbing. Loud, body shaking sobs.

I think that's it. She'll leave me to cry it out now, as she always does. But she's not done. Her slipper free foot meets my stomach as she kicks me from the bed. I don't know how her legs are so strong, but as always, her kick sends me flying. I fall from my bed, my head hitting the floor as I land.

My vision blurs as my head swims, a dizzy spell taking over. "That'll teach you not to do it again!" she sneers. I listen to her footsteps as she leaves my room, slamming my door shut on the way out. And then my sobbing grows louder, my tears fall harder. I lay on my hard floor, with a burning face, a banging headache and a throbbing stomach.

I don't know how long I stay like that. Minutes. Hours. The time stretches at an undetermined rate as I remain a crumpled mess on my floor. Awhile later, I drag myself up to my bed. One heavy limb at a time. Inch by inch. Eventually I'm resting on my bed, staring up at my ceiling. There's no other way for me to lay. Either side is hindered by some injury; my right arm and now the left side of my face.

I don't attempt to sleep. I don't make any effort to tend to my new injury. I don't do anything besides lay ontop of my covers, arms at my sides, legs straight, looking up above me.

My mind is both full and empty at the same time. The feeling is strange. I've never felt it before. Thoughts of the happiness I felt only hours earlier flash into my mind every now and then, filling the void that has taken over, but they don't stay long. The thoughts feel like a weight in my brain, an awful reminder that hope isn't real. Any form of happiness I've been feeling, all the hope and peace I've had, has been fake. A trick.

~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~

Monday 15 May 2017

I'm still awake when the early morning light begins peaking through the curtains. I'm still awake when the birds start their morning calls and the sound of engines from early risers travels through the streets. I'm still awake. I've been awake since my mother came into my room and attacked me. I've been awake this whole time. I don't know the exact time she came in, but I know that it was around 2:00AM. What she was doing checking her mail at that time I'll never know.

I stay in bed as I hear her get up at 5:00AM. I listen as she moves around; showers, dresses, eats, etc. I wait, praying that the time she leaves will be sooner rather than later. I wait and I wait. She doesn't check on me once. But did I really expect her to?

At 6:30AM, she's gone.

As soon as I hear her car driving away, I sit up. It's a struggle. I feel woozy, like water is filling my skull. My limbs ache and I have the worst case of nausea ever. I lift the hem of my top to look at my stomach. The area Renee's foot met is bright red. I tentatively press a finger into it, wincing at the slightest of pressure used. It's tender, too.

Feeling defeated and fed up, I drop my head to my hands, sighing. Ouch. SHIT! I forgot about my face. It was numb before. I couldn't feel anything. As soon as my hand touched the left side of my face, however, the pain kicked in full force. It's tender, just like my stomach. I brush my fingers lightly over the side of my face, starting at the eyebrow. I apply the tiniest amount of pressure with the tips of my fingers as I move them down and around my face.

The pain is instant, from the moment I press into the very tip of my eyebrow. With a gasp of pain, I carry on. The pain is exactly the same from there to the bottom of my cheekbone. Tender and extremely strong. Just from feeling, I can sense that the damage covers the top half of the left side of my face. Based on the pain, I'm scared to look at it. But I'll need to soon.

With heavy, reluctant feet, I shuffle out of my room and to the bathroom. I stumble twice, having to catch myself on the walls beside me so I don't fall down completely. I make it to the bathroom, ducking away from the mirror before I have the chance to see myself. I sit down on the closed toilet lid, taking a few moments to pull myself together. I'm shaking, from nerves or exertion, I don't know.

Slowly, gripping the edge of the sink, I steer myself to stand in front of the mirror that's on the wall above it. Crap. It feels worse than it looks but it's still bad. You can easily see that something with a pattern hit my face, so there's no way I can pass it off as falling and hitting my face on the floor or something like that.

I have purple-red lines running parallel, from my temple and across my cheek. It's swollen slightly. The lines are more pronounced than the rest of the colouring, which is a light red, like the slap has only just happened.

What am I going to do? I would skip school, but that's what got me into this mess. How am I meant to hide this? I'm shit at applying makeup. I can barely apply the little bit I do now well. There's no way I'll be able to cover this up. But that's the only way.

I guess I better start learning.

Before I do anything else, I log my injuries. I go to my locked chest, unlocking it with the key and pulling out what I need. I take a picture of my stomach, then write the specific details on the back.

Taken: 05/15/17

Happened: 05/15/17

Location: Stomach

And then I do the same with my face.

Taken: 05/15/17

Happened: 05/15/17

Location: Left side of face

I then write a detailed description of what happened. By the time I'm done, my right arm is feeling tired, aching and throbbing. I need some pain medication.

I take some pills, then force myself to shower. I try to be as quick as I can, which isn't very quick at all. Once I'm done I spend the next ten minutes staring at my makeup I've just spread out over my dresser, wondering what the hell I should start with. I don't wear it a lot. I bought more than I ever use in case this situation ever arrised, but surprisingly, my mother never hits my face. She's always avoided it, probably to save her own back more than anything.

I decide to watch a YouTube video and hope for the best. Half an hour later, with barely anytime to finish getting ready, I've done it. And I haven't done a bad job, if I do say so myself. The bruise isn't noticeable, and you can't really tell I'm wearing any make up. I managed to blend it in well. Thank God that lady at the store the day I bought it all helped me choose the right skin tones.

I finish getting ready now, brushing my teeth and then my hair, which I leave down, not feeling like I have enough energy to put it up. I throw on a pair of black Nike leggings, a charcoal grey baggy jersey t-shirt that has white stripes along the hems, and finally, of course, my charcoal grey Converse high tops. It's sunny outside, and hot - I can feel the heat inside - so I forego putting on a jacket. The sleeves of my t-shirt are long and reach my elbow, so I don't have to worry about the bruise on the back of my arm being noticed at all. At the last minute, I throw a black hooded jacket into my bag, just to be safe.

After packing some of the makeup into my bag - in case it's needed - I head down stairs, in a rush to leave. I'm cutting it quite short, thanks to the time I used applying the makeup. I ride as fast as my legs can move all the way to school. By the time I've locked up my bike, I'm sweaty and breathing heavily. I try to subtly check the side of my face, to see if the cover up has stayed intact during my cycle, in the selfie camera of my phone. I really do try to do it discreetly, but one or two people snigger as they walk past me.

I make it just in time, and walk through the door of my first class a second before the bell rings. As I pass the devil-duo I receive sneers from them both. Jessica's is the usual glare of hatred, but Lauren's stare is much more menacing, like it's fueled by more than just their desertation of me. I do my best to ignore it, but something sits unsettled in my stomach as I make my way to the back. Her eyes follow me the whole way, even long after Jessica has turned back to the front.

Miss. Wilkins arrives a minute after I sit down. The lesson moves along at a snails pace. Lauren turns to look back at me every few minutes, her mouth pulled into a frown as her eyes form tiny slits, barely wide enough to see she has an eyeball filling the socket.

Her behaviour continues into the next lesson. I arrive before she does, sitting down in my place at the back. When she enters, her eyes immediately lock onto me, the glare loathing and discerning.

When the class ends, I notice Lauren packing up at the same pace as me; unnecessarily slow. Even Jessica is giving her strange looks. I begin speeding up and walk out of the class merged into the last group of students to pass through the door. I rush to Biology, almost panting as I walk through the doors.

The classroom is empty, except for a familiar bronze haired boy. Edward looks up when I enter, a smile spreading across his face. He always sits near the windows, at one of the tables along the edge of the classroom. I could easily cut down the center of the room, passing Lauren and Jessica's usual table like I always do, but today, I don't. I smile as I look behind me, making sure no one is looking. Luckily no one is, and it will most likely be another few moments before someone else enters the room.

Instead of taking my usual route, I walk around the front desks, making my way closer to Edward. As a last minute thought, I sweep my hair over my left shoulder, hoping to shield some of my face. There's only one person that could maybe see the difference in my usually bare face to today, and that person is Edward.

His smile falters slightly as he looks behind me, a swirl of fear passing swiftly in his eyes. But he glances back at me again, his smile returning in full once he sees no one is behind me. "I'd watch out for Devil 1 today. She's got a problem," I say quietly, my smile growing as I speak.

Edward joined me in my naming of Jessica and Lauren last week, when I accidently let my names for them slip during lunch on Thursday while I was ranting about them. Jessica had stuck her foot out as I walked passed her, sending me crashing into the group of Seniors in front of me, who then proceeded to give me shit for my clumsiness. Ever since, Edward has latched on to the nicknames. It's just stuck. Lauren is now Devil 1, and Jessica is Devil 2.

"When has she not got a problem?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't like her very much.

"No. Today she's on form. If looks could kill I'd be dead," I say, glancing back towards the door. No one comes through. I look back at Edward. He's smirking.

"Shame. I was just starting to like you," he says smirking. I hear someone walking through the door, so I quickly move away from Edward, but not before sticking my tongue out at him. I hear him chuckle quietly as I rush to my table.

Unfortunately, the person to appear in the room is Lauren, followed by a confused looking Jessica. Lauren looks between me and Edward with narrowed eyes before pushing her shoulders back and strutting over to Edward. Her eyelashes flutter as she sits gracefully on the seat beside him.

His eyes grow wide, as do mine, when she leans closer to him and kisses his cheek, her hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. As she turns her head towards me, I drop my gaze to my bag, pulling out the items required. For some reason, my heart feels heavy and I have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's making me feel sick.

Lauren stays there the whole lesson, earning some baffled looks from Jessica and others in the room. I don't look over at the two of them sat beside one another.

I can't. And I don't know why.

A/N: Let me tell ya, it was a little strange writing out the dates mm/dd/yy instead of dd/mm/yy, like I'm used to.

Next chapter will be up on Wednesday and will be the last Bella POV for a little while.

Thanks for reading, don't be afraid to leave a review and see ya next time!! :)