"I'm home, I'm home, I'm home," I ran as fast as I possibly could into the front door.
I was so determined to get into the door by eleven o clock that I was paying attention to nothing other than doing so. My toe caught on the step in the door frame and my keys flew out in front of me. Right into my father's hands.
"Where they will stay for the next two weeks."
"Two weeks!?" I cried, pushing myself back up to my feet. "That's so unfair I was only," my eyes darted up to the clock on the wall, "five minutes late."
He raised his eye brow and sighed. "And yesterday it was three minutes. The day before it was a half hour. Last week it was ten minutes. These little late night trips are getting to be a bit much, Renesmee."
"Dad," I whined.
"You're fifteen. No matter how capable you are of taking care of yourself, you shouldn't be running around at all hours like you've been."
I shrugged my shoulders. Unable to say anything.
"I understand that you still miss him."
The pain cut like a knife through my chest, and he left the topic right there.
"Just..." He sighed. "You can have your keys back in two weeks."
"Alright."
The night drug on slowly.
My parents flashed back and forth, discussing why I haven't been eating, my education (Which is pretty much down the drain,) my car and when I'll get it back, why I suddenly miss my old life, and of course, why I was always staying out so late.
They didn't know that I could hear them. I was good at pretending to sleep, and ever since my mom's shield became effortless, she had it over me almost twenty-four seven. It was her attempt at giving me normal teenage years.
"We haven't been to Forks in thirteen years. Why all the sudden is she wanting to go back there?" Mom asked from the kitchen table.
My father grunted and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, if you'd let me read her mind, I'd have the answer for that."
"It's not fair to her, Edward. She's entitled to have her own thoughts. Secrets. Dreams. Feelings. I want her to have the most normal life possible. Normal fathers do not read their teenager's minds. If they did this world would be a lot different."
"Just let me in for a few days so I can figure out what's going on with her."
"I'll let you in if she gives me permission."
He grunted again, and sank into the chair. "You know she won't."
And so on the conversation went. Both of them bickering, my mother not giving in.
They talked about how last week I had dirt under my finger nails and smelled like Forks. They talked about how I couldn't handle school. They should just pull me out and have Dad teach me.
But of course, mom insisted that school was 'normal' and I can leave when I'm eighteen if I want.
I wondered what would happen if they really knew what I was doing. If they actually had even the slightest hint of where I was going every night.
The clock struck three the second I walked out of the door.
"Where are you going without your car?" My father asked, following behind me.
I prayed to the Lord above that my mother had be covered. "Just for a run."
He raised his eyebrow and did something that shocked even mom. I heard her gasp from the kitchen.
He nodded and backed away.
Easy enough.
And then I ran.
I ran through the woods, over the creek, past the deer, past the highway, past the air port. I ran as fast as I could. After a while my feet acutally started to hurt, and I peeled off the tight sneakers and ran barefooted.
Normally I came with my car, and it wasn't so rough.
But I would have to make due.
Eventually, after running for what felt like days, the old familiar sign popped up.
"Welcome to Forks Washington."
A relieved breath came out of me as I slipped my shoes back on and walked into the town like I owned it.
It was five o clock, and the sun was getting ready to set, so my skin on shined in the slightest bit. I wasn't worried.
Once someone demanded to know where I got my 'body shimmer.' She wouldn't stop so I just told her bath and body works.
I laughed at the memory and started to run again.
Not as fast as before, where I had to be was close.
Finally, I stopped outside of the small brick house, and slowly tip toed over to the window.
My heart skipped a beat. Or two.
There he was. Laying there so peacefully watching TV. There was an expression on his face that I would give anything to decode, and a rigidness in his breath that sent shivers down my spine.
Like I do every night, I wondered what he would do if he knew I was here.
What he would say to me.
If he would explain why he never followed us when we moved. Why he wouldn't start his life with me. Why he dropped it right there. When I was only a year old. And he was my hero.
I'd ask him.
Ask him why he left me alone after we moved. Why he never drove down to see me. I'd ask him if he cried himself to sleep every night. Ask him if he ever considered the life we could have had together. Ask him if he wants all those years back that he missed.
When my eyes traveled back up to the window, another beat of my heart was skipped. And soon after it felt liek it fell into my stomach.
Because he was looking me right in the eyes.
He saw me.