4

This Could Go One Of Two Ways … And Both Ways Suck

I sat on the couch watching old movies and eating chips until my mom got home. With everything going on with Edward and the death vision, my already tenuous control of my sanity snapped. I decided to talk to my mom about her sending me away. And if it came to it, I was going to give her an ultimatum: let me stay, or I'll find somewhere else to go. But I was not going to be sent to some place where I was going to be treated like a mentally unstable criminal by people I didn't know. I got enough of that already from my mom and all the assholes at school. So, if I was leaving here -my home-, it was going to be under my own terms, and to a place that I'd chosen for myself . . . I wasn't exactly sure where I'd go yet, but I figured that I'd cross that bridge when it came to it.

About two hours after I got home, I heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and pushed open. I stood up and stretched my arms over my head, getting ready for an argument that might last all night. I got my fighting spirit and stubbornness from my mom, and when we fought, it could get pretty intense.

"Isabella?" she called from the kitchen. "Can you come in here please?" I took a deep breath and walked towards her voice, but skidded to a stop in the doorway. My mom was wearing her usual work clothes: a white blouse under a navy blue blazer, a matching pencil skirt, and to-die-for black velvet stilettos. She was still wearing her knee-length, navy blue trench coat and her fashionable black leather gloves, as well, which I figured would come in handy for me in the long run if things got as ugly as they had in the past. Her blonde hair was curled to frame her face. Everyone who saw her admitted she was beautiful. And I got most of my appearance from her, except for my super long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes, which I'd inherited from my father. I wished I'd gotten more from my father, but I'd take what I could get.

But what had made me freeze was the man standing behind her, his hands on her waist. He was tall, at least a foot taller than my mother's five foot seven frame, with thick, dark hair and brown eyes. His face was thin, his features nondescript, and his thin lips were pulled into a smile. He was wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit and his shoes shined like they were either brand new or polished regularly. He looked like a stuck up white-collar worker with a god complex, and I immediately distrusted and hated him.

I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms over my chest, pissed off. This guy, this totally average, not-that-attractive guy, was the one trying to get my mom to send me away. I knew it was him. Seeing my glare, his expression changed until he was looking at me like someone might look at a little kid throwing a tantrum in public. He was looking at me like I was beneath him and unworthy to even be in his presence. The fucking douche. He didn't even know me.

Speaking of people I didn't know judging me?

"Isabella, this is Philip. He's the new vice president of the office," my mom said. I didn't take my eyes off of 'Philip' as my upper lip curled into a sneer. I could feel an angry flush working its way from my chest up to my face, and pooling in my cheeks.

"Awesome. Congrats, Phil. Now, why is he here?" I asked, finally looking at my mom. Her lips tightened into a thin white line and I saw Phil's arms pull her closer. Apparently my mom didn't appreciate my rudeness in front of her new vice president of whatever.

"Nice to meet you, Bella. I'm here because your mom has told me a lot about you. I wanted to finally meet the girl I've been hearing about." He smiled and I resisted the urge to make a gagging noise, knowing that would piss them off more than I already had. Instead, I just raised my eyebrows at him and smiled as sweetly as I could.

"It's Isabella. And oh really? Well then, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for stopping by." My harsh dismissal had my mom sucking in a breath and made Phil frown. It made him look even more unattractive that he already had been.

"Um, actually, Isabella," my mom started, giving me a look when she repeated my name. "He's here to talk to you about something. If you'll just listen . . . I think you might agree with us that it's for the best." Here it was. Even though I'd been meaning to talk to her about it anyway, the thought of doing it with Phil there, knowing he'd back-up my mother so it was two against one, made me think it wasn't such a good idea.

"You want to send me away?" I asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a statement, looking at my mom again. Her jaw dropped; she hadn't known that I knew what she was planning. "Why? What did I do?" I hated how my voice cracked and traitor tears filled my eyes. Why couldn't I talk to my mom like an adult? Even to my ears it sounded like I was begging not to be sent away, when I honestly shouldn't have had to. I hadn't done anything wrong. So why was I being punished? Because Phil wanted me to be? Was she trying to prove something to him? It was so unfair.

"It's not anything you did, Isabella," my mom said, her voice unsympathetic. "It's just not working out here. We barely talk, I've been getting calls from your school -." I cut her off, my voice raising.

"That's a lie! You have not gotten a single call from my school! I haven't gotten in trouble, and my grades have never dropped beneath a B! The school has never had a reason to call you!" My mom dropped the pretense of the caring mother that she must have been trying to maintain in front of Phil. Her eyes narrowed and she spit her words through her teeth.

"Fine, Bella, I haven't gotten any calls from your school." She must not have liked being called a liar in front of her new boyfriend. Oh fucking well. She shouldn't be a liar then. "But I haven't ever met any of your friends. You don't talk to me before you leave for school. You ignore me when you get home. What else am I supposed to do?" she asked. "It feels like I live here with a ghost." I wanted to throw something at her for blaming this whole thing on me. She didn't try to talk to me either. And I didn't have any friends to bring over. But even if I did, I doubt I'd introduce them to the mother who hates my guts.

The tears welled up and spilled over as I struggled to gain control of my anger. "Mom, I'll change. I'll start talking to you more. I'll bring my friends over. I'll do anything. Just, please, don't send me away." I couldn't believe I was begging. But I no longer had control of the words coming out of my mouth. All I knew was that I really did not want to leave.

"The plans have already been made, Isabella. You leave in a week." I turned to the side and punched the wall as hard as I could. Ignoring the feeling of the skin on my knuckles ripping, I pulled my arm back and punched it again, this time hard enough to go straight through the drywall. White dust puffed out of the hole and coated my dark clothes, and I could feel it clumping in the blood gushing from my torn up knuckles. I pulled my hand back to look at it, barely registering the pain in my hand at all because the pain in my chest was too great.

After staring at my hand for a couple of seconds, I looked at my mom again. Her and Phil were looking at the new hole in the wall and the red stains around the rough edges, my mom with disgust and Phil with incredulity, like he just couldn't believe I'd do something like that. "Dad would never have kicked me out," I said in a monotone. "Dad would have tried talking to me about it instead. But you're too much of a coward." My mom's eyes filled with fire and I could see her jaw clench like she was gritting her teeth together.

"Phil, can you go wait in the other room so I can talk to Isabella alone?" she asked, making her voice sound like she was about to cry. Normally, I would have snorted and rolled my eyes at her ridiculous display, but I was doing everything in my power to make myself numb. Phil pressed his lips against her cheek and disappeared into the hallway, but I kept my eyes on my mom. She was walking towards me, her expression livid, and I knew what was going to happen. Just like I'd expected, when she was within reach, she lifted her arm and smacked me across the face, hard. My ears rang from the blow and my cheek stung like it was on fire, but I refused to look away from her or cry like I wanted to. "How dare you mention your father and insult me in front of Phil!" she spit at me.

I figured it was too late anyway. Her mind was already made up and nothing I said would change it. So I decided to see just how pissed off I could make her with her boyfriend in the next room. I reached up and swiped my hand across my face, looking at my mom disgustedly. "Thanks for spitting on me," I said and she narrowed her eyes again.

"Listen here, you little witch," she said. But I cut her off before she could say anything. I stepped closer so my face was inches away from her, and I was surprised to find that I was only about an inch or so shorter. I used to have to tilt my head back to look into her eyes. How long had it been since I was this close to her?

"No, you listen, Renee," I said, calling her by her name. She made an angry sound in her throat and tried to hit me again, but I caught her wrist before she could. "When dad died, you stopped being my mother. Instead, you turned into this raging bitch that I don't even want to look at, let alone speak or listen to. So get the fuck out of my face before I finally do what I've wanted to do for years now," I said menacingly.

"And what's that?" she asked, clenching the hand that I was still holding into a fist.

"Hit you back," I replied and she looked like she was about to explode. Before she could, I threw her arm away from me. She lost her balance and stumbled into the wall, and I walked towards the front door. I just needed to leave. I needed space and room to breathe. As I passed Phil in the hallway, I said, "Bye, Phil. It was really nice meeting you." Then, I raised my voice so my mom would hear me in the other room. "And, by the way, I'm sure you could do much better." I heard an outraged hiss from the kitchen and smiled as I walked out and slammed the door behind me.

I walked around for hours without any destination in mind. All I knew was that I couldn't go home. I didn't have a home anymore. My mom and Phil were making sure of that.

As I walked down the street, I tried to imagine where it was they wanted to send me. I've heard of kids being sent to juvenile jail for breaking the law, but I hadn't done anything illegal. Could they be sending me to one anyway? Or maybe a military boot camp? Would my life go from walking for exercise to pushups and sit-ups and jumping jacks and running? I couldn't run a mile without stopping –I'd been forced to try in gym class and almost felt like dying. I tried to imagine having to wake up early in the morning and having to crawl through mud and shower with a bunch of other girls who are most likely bigger than me. And suddenly I wanted to cry again.

"Daddy, I miss you," I whispered into the air. It hurt more than ever when I didn't hear an answer.

Sorry about the wait! The holiday season is always crazy.

Hope you liked it! See you next chapter!