A/N: Hey! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year. It's official; we're in the next decade!

As promised, I'm back with a brand new chapter! Thank you all so much for the reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying my story. I do have something else to say, but I'll wait until the end of this chapter, so don't forget to check the bottom A/N before you leave. Thanks again and please enjoy!

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-three: 'The moment of truth' (Bella POV)

Monday 10 July 2017

One minute I'm peacefully sleeping on a sofa I haven't been able to sit on for years, and the next I'm drenched in ice cold water, as well as pelted in the face with several really hard rocks... that's what it feels like at least.

I wake with a loud gasp, it's volume rivalling that of the TV that is still on. I must have fallen asleep whilst watching it. I wrench myself into a sitting position as I wipe furtively at my wet face, and then dab tenderly at the dip where my nose meets my cheek not far beneath my eye, then at my left cheekbone and finally at my chin.

"I see how it is."

Those words make me freeze. I must be dreaming. That menacing voice and it's equally menacing owner should be on their way to God knows where, or perhaps settling into a hotel or motel or whatever. I wasn't given any specifics. They should definitely not be in this room with me. She* should not be in this room with me.

Yet, when I open my eyes, squinting past the water that's dropping down from my hair, I clamp eyes on her. Her legs are spread shoulder width apart, her entire frame is vibrating in her obvious anger. In her right hand she holds an empty jug, the droplets shining from the inside the only sign that it recently held something. I glance down at myself and at the couch and cushion I had my head on, all of which are soaked in water. An ice cube, though it's more of an ice chip now as it rapidly melts, adding to the moisture, lies on the edge of the cushion. That must be one of the 'rocks' that hit me in the face. I can't see any of the others. She chucked ice cold water over me and didn't even have the decency to remove the ice beforehand. Am I surprised? Hell no!

"You think I'm gone and see that as a green light to do as you please. To sit on my couch, watch my television. That would have been bad enough all on its own but you had to go and make it worse for yourself, didn't you, Isabella!" All I can do is gape up at her, my face pulsing a dull throb in three different places. "What have I told you about wasting my electricity!"

I gulp and glance at the TV, which is still on, and then back to her. "I-I'm sorry. It was an accident."

The jug drops from her hand with a muted thud as it lands on the carpet. "Fuck sorry! You know the rules, Isabella. This is my room and I pay hard earned money for the electricity. I do not expect to come home, which I've had to do thanks to a mistake you've made by the way, and see you violating my rules! I know I shouldn't have planned to leave you alone. You aren't mature enough, trusted enough for it to work out."

I stand shakily. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I won't come in here again unless it's to clean the room. It's just that I did all of my chores in the day today instead of the afternoon and evening and I was a little tired," I say, hating the trembling in my voice. "It won't happen again," I reiterate. It's the truth. I spent all of the day cleaning and completing my chores. Then I had work for an hour and barely had any energy to make myself some dinner before collapsing onto this couch ready to just relax and watch some TV. You wouldn't think I was a young, healthy 16 year old.

"Damn right it won't happen again. In fact..." she moves towards the TV and reaches behind it. I don't know what she's doing back there until she returns to her place in front of me, this time holding a cable in her right hand. She waves it in front of my face. "I'll be taking this with me," she goads. I show no emotion, not that I'm feeling much in this moment. Only really cold and really confused. She can take it with her if she likes. I won't be using this room ever again. I shouldn't have even been in here in the first place, I know that now.

"Now, about your first mistake which forced me back here to start with." I feel like I should be fleeing, but I have no clue what I've done wrong this time and a morbid part of me is curious. Besides, she wouldn't let me flee even if I wanted to. "I got all the way to my destination to then realise that you forgot to pack my toiletries."

So she isn't going too far then? It's within driving distance.

My brow furrows. "N-no I didn't," I say earnestly. I did pack her toiletries. I'm sure of it. She made me spend most of yesterday packing and repacking her bag. I spent an hour packing it the first time, but it wasn't done right, according to Renee. The second time I took extra care and switched some things out. Again, it wasn't correct. The third time I went over it all three times before beginning to pack it and then repacked it just to be sure. Still, this wasn't good enough. I was about ready to shout at her that she should do it, but I held back my temper, knowing that would start up World War Three in this house.

On the fourth try, I finally did it right. She had a suitcase for most of her things, and a duffel bag, which is where I put her zip-up toiletry bag. I'm sure of it.

"Isabella, don't mistake me for a fool. You didn't pack that bag."

"B-but I did," I reply, daring to argue, albeit weakly. "Did you take it out to get ready this morning?" my words are weak, my voice resembling that of a mouse's squeak. I watch, suddenly regretting my words, as her eye twitches, her mouth deepening into a morose frown.

"Are you insinuating that this was my fault?!" she shouts, stepping into my personal space. I rapidly shake my head back and forth, though she's right, that's exactly what I just did. "You've got some nerve! Do you want a fracture in this wrist to match the other one?!" she screams in my face as she snatches my right wrist in the trap of her hand, squeezing it tightly. I let out a little squeak, terror stealing my voice. She wouldn't, would she? There'd be no way for me to carry out any of my chores if she did.

I try to keep my sigh of relief inward as she releases my wrist. I cradle it to my chest. "I don't have time for this. Where is that bag?"

I don't answer straight away, because I honestly don't know. Last time I saw it was when I was zipping up her duffel bag yesterday afternoon. "Um, try the bathroom?" It comes out as a question more than an answer.

She tuts and rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. If I could read minds, I'm sure I'd discover that she's mentally counting to ten right now. "Try..." she mutters darkly under her breath, mirroring my choice of words. "So you don't know," she asks quietly, looking at me. I shake my head. She tuts again and shakes her head, glancing away for a moment. And then, all of a sudden, she reaches out with her empty hand, which she curls into a fist, and pushes me to the couch. Her hand connects with my bruised ribs - how does she always manage to reconnect with old injuries? - so when I tumble backwards, it's with a cry of pain.

She looks down at me with a disgusted, I-can't-believe-you're-my-child kind of expression on her face. I've seen it plenty of times before. I think she's going to say something, but she doesn't. Instead, she shakes her head and turns to leave. At the door, she stops and looks at me, sweeping her eyes from my feet to my hair.

"Go to your room and dry yourself off. You're dripping water all over the place."

I look down at myself. I'm creating more of a problem, adding to the patches of water everywhere. When I glance back up, she's gone.

I quickly push myself up, clenching my eyes shut at the pull I feel in my ribs, and head for the kitchen. I grab myself an ice pack from the freezer, and make my way up to my room. I tiptoe past my mother's bedroom when I hear her tearing the place apart as she looks for the toiletry bag. I wonder if she's checked the bathroom like I suggested. Probably not; she'd hate to prove me right.

I quickly close my door and lean against it for a few seconds. I can hear her moving around from in here, through both of our doors. Well, this week, which I thought was going to be super easy, is starting out just great!

I sigh and pull my soaking t-shirt off, throwing it down to the floor on my way to my bed. I lift the chain that holds my key over my head and place it on the nightstand (ready for when I next use it, which will be soon by the looks of things) as I sit on the edge of my bed, in just my black bra and black leggings, and look down at myself. The bruise is still an eye sore but has lost its nasty blue/purple colour. My skin once again looks mouldy, with the brown and yellow blob spanning a large area of the left of my ribcage. In a hopeful attempt to prevent the bruise from reversing in its healing process thanks to my mother's handy work, I press the ice pack to the bruise and close my eyes.

My face, the three places where the ice cubes landed, still hurts a bit, but it's not too bad. They can't leave much of a mark, surely.

The noise stops in the room across the hall and I hear her loud footsteps as she heads downstairs, causing me to raise my head and open my eyes. What was once my intention to turn my head toward my door is stopped when I see the face of my best friend in my window. His mouth and eyes are wide open and he's staring right at my hands, which hold the ice pack to my ribs.

My heart instantly begins a rapid drumbeat within my chest. My breaths come in shallow pants of air. My eyes, which he slowly raises his gaze to meet, widen.

We stare at each other for God knows how long. What the hell is he doing here? And why has he climbed the tree?

I don't know what to do.

There's a section of my brain scrambling for excuses and ways to explain my bruise away - there's no way he hasn't seen it. Another section of my brain is in agony as it freaks out that he's here... especially when Renee's in such a bad mood.

I really don't know what to do.

I'm still fruitlessly searching for a way out of this predicament when he slowly raises a hand and knocks on my window. The sound echos around my room. It's like my room is a cavernous amplifier. People in the neighbouring towns could have heard that knock, it was so loud. At least it was to my ears. And that is what has me up off my bed and rushing toward my window. I quickly open it - luckily it doesn't open in a way that has him flying from the tree limb.

"What the hell are you doing here? And why are you in a tree?" I hiss, sounding like a nut job in my mad panic. He takes his eyes off of me only long enough to climb through my window. "No!" I protest when he has one leg in. "You can't come in." He doesn't listen - of course he doesn't listen - and soon he's stood in front of me, staring down at where one of my hands is still holding the ice pack to my ribs.

I turn away to close my window, and to quickly try to gather some courage. When I turn back to him, he's still staring at the ice pack.

"Edward!" I whisper harshly. His gaze snaps up to me. "What are you doing here?"

"Have you hurt your-" his normal volume answer is interrupted by my hushing him.

"Sshhh! Would you be quiet!" I hiss, glancing at my door nervously.

"Bella," he says at the same volume as before. My glare has him restarting at a whisper. "Bella, what did you do?"

"It's nothing. It was an accident," I answer, turning away and heading back toward my bed.

"Why is your hair all wet?"

Shit. I forgot about that in all the freaking out.

"I just had a shower," I lie stupidly.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Edward."

We're still whispering, even as he comes to sit beside me on the edge of my bed. "Can I see it?"

"No," is all I say. As long as I can keep him from seeing the bruise, I should be able to get away with this. I can actually feel myself calming.

And then the footsteps begin back up the stairs. My fright returns in tenfold. I panic.

"Quick. Get up," I hiss, pulling at his arm while still trying to hold the ice pack to my ribs. He does as I demand, slowly. Way too slowly. I look around anxiously. I can hear her in the bathroom. It's only a matter of seconds before she finds that bag, which I'm sure will be in there, and then possibly comes to my room. "Get in the closet!" I whisper. He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Come on! Move!" I'm struggling to stay quiet in my desperation. He moves, partially because I pull him along.

He doesn't make it to the closet. As my door bursts open, he has to quickly step behind it. Luckily my closet is behind my bedroom door (when the door is open), so he was in a safe area and will remain to be, as long as Renee doesn't go beyond the doorway.

She steps back, hand on the doorknob, as soon as the door is completely open when she sees how close I am to her. Her suspicion shows in her hazel gaze instantly. "Where are you going? I thought I told you to stay in your room."

I have to fight with every instinct I have to keep my eyes on her and not let them stray to Edward, who's stood only a few feet to my left. "I-I'm just going to get a towel. For my hair," I lie. I'd be feeling proud of myself for my quick thinking right now if I weren't so on edge.

I'm still visible to Edward. If I shifted my eyes to the left, he'd be visible to me. My mother is hidden from him by the door. It's a sticky situation, specifically because she has no idea he is in the room, so she's not going to be on her best behaviour like she has in the past when he's been here.

She nods but doesn't move. Instead, she holds up her toiletry bag in the air between us. "You were right. Thought you'd like to know, Miss Smart Ass. It was in the bathroom." She steps forward with one foot so she's closer to me, her face just close enough for me to smell the faint scent of alcohol on her breath. "Don't expect any rewards. All this makes me think is that you did know where it was. And you know what that means, Isabella?" I shake my head timidly, not removing my eyes from hers. "It means that you lied to me about packing it in the first. Fucking. Place." She lifts the bag above my head and plonks it down with every one of those last few words. My head sinks into my shoulders with each jarr of the full bag against the crown of my head.

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter. There's no point in denying it, even if I didn't lie.

"Don't fucking give me sorry, Isabella. If I didn't have to be somewhere right now, you'd be in a world of shit. Unfortunately I have to go, but when I get back this weekend, I will be dealing with your behaviour."

I nod silently, trying not to visibly flinch at her words. Her gaze sweeps my upper body and her nose wrinkles, her eyes narrowing when they land on the ice pack. "Why do you need this?" she asks, snatching it from my hand. It's a moments delay between my hand being pulled from my body as the ice pack is whipped out of my grip and me rushing to re-cover the bruise with the same hand. Why does the bruise have to be on my left side? Edward could have easily caught a glimpse of it just then.

I don't reply to her question. I don't know what to say. "Why do you need this, Isabella?" she asks again, stepping closer to me. "I didn't push you that hard." Push? Don't you mean punch, because that's what it really was. Actually, with Edward stood an arms reach away and listening to every word she is saying, I'm glad she said push and not punch. That doesn't sound as bad.

"I-I know," I stammer, the fear that she'll get any further into the room and see Edward pushing me to reply. "I was just being thorough."

"I see. If only you'd shown the same care when packing my bags yesterday. I wouldn't be here right now. Instead I'd be at-" she stops herself from finishing that sentence. She scoffs and looks down at the ice pack. "Whatever. I have to go. I'll be back Saturday. Try not to burn the place down. And remember the rules. If I even suspect for one second that you've stepped a toe out of line, you'll not know what's fucking hit you."

Finally, after returning the ice pack to me, she turns and walks away, leaving my door open. Remembering my lie, I follow her out of my room, closing the door behind me softly. She doesn't look back at me as she heads downstairs. I grab a towel from the linen closet and walk back to my room.

I keep my head down as I enter, closing the door behind me. There's no lying to Edward now. He wouldn't have misinterpreted what he just witnessed with his own two eyes.

I can't look up at him, even when I know he's looking straight at me. I feel ashamed. Heat rises in my cheeks at the same time that tears prick at my eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" he asks me barely above a whisper. It's not a harsh whisper, but it doesn't include much tenderness either. He sounds disgusted, which only furthers my shame.

However, my feelings of shame don't lessen my fear of my mother and I'm quick to hush him (even though he barely whispered) as I rush to my window, throwing the towel to my bed on the way. I peer out in time to see Renee backing out of the driveway and leaving the street.

I sigh, though my shoulders don't sag in relief. I'm too tense, about to face a moment I've been avoiding for years with anyone, and only months with Edward.

The moment of truth.

I slowly turn my back to the window, only to come face to face with Edward, who's moved to stand right in front of me. I startle and step back, quickly averting my eyes from his troubled expression.

"Bella..." he whispers before going silent again. I don't look up from the floor as I sidestep him and go to my closet, pulling out a t-shirt which I rush to put on.

I keep my back to him, even after I've closed my closet. We're both silent for a while.

"H-how..." I hear his gulp. "How long has she been...?"

He can't finish and I can't answer.

"Bella?" His voice is closer than before, and I can't stomach the idea of him getting any closer to me, of him being close enough to coerce the words out of me. I need space for this conversation.

So, I quickly move across the room, standing beside my bed. My hand, off its own accord, lifts to my neck where I stroke the chain of my locket necklace with my index finger. I stop momentarily when I feel only one chain, and then turn to slip the chain with the key back around my neck. Once it's tucked beneath my t-shirt, I go back to stroking the chains as I slowly turn back to him.

"She hurts you." I say nothing. "She hurts you, doesn't she, Bella. Verbally, emotionally..." he gulps before adding in a choked whisper, "physically." Hearing the confusion and utter disbelief in his voice is heart breaking, but still, I don't react. The next thing he says is without those emotions I could so easily detect only moments before. "She abuses you." At his monotonous statement, my eyes instantly jump from their fixated place on my bedroom floor to Edward. The bag he had on his back has been dropped to the floor, though I don't know when that happened. He is staring at me, his comforting green eyes searching my face from across the room. I don't deny or confirm what he just said. I simply stare at him.

When he begins walking toward me, I shake my head pleadingly.

"How long, Bella?" When I remain silent, emotion returns in his voice. This time it's not confusion or disbelief. This time it's anger. "God dammit, Bella! How long has she been like that with you?"

I look down again, tears pooling in my eyes. I gulp back the lump in my throat. "Almost s-six years," I choke out. I hear his gasp, but I don't look up from the floor.

"Why?" he asks, sounding choked up himself. I finally look up at him, unshed tears blurring my vision.

"Because of what I did."

He moves closer with one step. "What do you mean? What did you do?" All the anger has gone. He steps closer again.

"I..." I briefly close my eyes. When I reopen them, he's even closer. "It's my fault my dad's dead."

He steps back.

A/N: So, it's out. He finally knows. Thoughts? Let me know in a review! I'm so glad this chapter is out. I've been nervous and excited about it because this is such an important plot point for this story.

Anyway, now about the thing I wanted to say. Unfortunately, that time a while back when I had really bad writers block has put me a little behind schedule. When I increased my updates to 3 a week, I had a 10+ chapter log so I was always safe to post so frequently. I have less than that now. I'm still a few chapters ahead, but I don't have as many to fall back on. So, with that said, I am sorry to say that I am returning to 1 update a week, just for now. It'll probably only be for the next couple weeks because I've been in a writing flow I guess you could say the last couple days. As soon as it's possible, I'll increase my number of weekly updates again. I promise.

This does mean that instead of bringing you the next chapter on Monday, I'll be back on Friday. Trust me, this wait is going to be as torturous for me as it may be for you because I love updating this story! Okay, that's all I wanted to say. I hope you're all well. See you next week!