Author's Note:

Took me a bit longer than usual to update and that's because this is a long chapter. Plus, I also had to do a bit of research before I wrote it. Hope you like it! Please review seeing as I spent so much time and effort on it. :) Thanks!

Also, I'm going to start thinking of a song or songs to go with each chapter. Sometimes the lyrics in the song will be fitting to the chapter, other times it will be the mood of the song that will be fitting. Some of the songs may not fit, but are just the songs I was listening to while writing the chapter. So check out my playlist on my profile page.

SONGS: The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony, The Verve - The Drugs don't Work, Coldplay - Yellow, Linkin Park - Numb, Linkin Park - Leave Out All The Rest

Savannah-Vee

Chapter 22

Back Home

EPOV

I was driving slowly. Again. And this time I was actually following the speed laws, sometimes even driving below the speed limit.

It was now 3:15PM. I had left Forks at 9:00AM and a trip that was supposed to take a maximum of four hours had now taken me six.

And I was still only a little over half way to Seattle.

In addition to my slow driving I was also stopping a lot, making excuses and coming up with reasons for having to stop nearly every half hour. I stopped for more gas – even though I had filled up my tank the night before I left. I stopped to buy food, even though my stomach was so unsettled that if I had eaten any of the food I bought I would have surely thrown up. I stopped to call Jazz, asking him to check if I forgot my dark blue hoody – even though it was lying on the seat next to me. I stopped to go to the bathroom – five times in one hour – even though I didn't need to go. Then I finally ran out of reasons and excuses to stop and just parked up on the side of the road and sat there for twenty minutes.

I had been so excited last night, so relieved that my mom was finally back at home, so ecstatic that she wanted to see me, that she might not hate me after all.

After talking to Carlisle I had gone straight to my room to pack my stuff. I pulled out my suitcase from my closet and started hastily throwing my things into it. I didn't even stop to think about what I was packing, just basically emptied out my underwear drawer; pulled off all my t shirts and sweaters off their hangers in the closet and tossed them on top, did the same with my jeans, added three hoodies and my shoes, then carefully laid my cologne in between all of it.

It was crazy, I knew, because I was only supposed to be going for a week at most, yet I had packed most of my clothes. I didn't have much of my other possessions with me at Carlisle and Esme's because I had left most of it back at home at my mom's when I left, with the hope that I would be able to return to my room soon. The few things I did bring with me, a few CD's, some posters and magazines, some old books I didn't read anymore, weren't of any importance to me so I didn't bother packing them. It was as if I was moving back home.

And if I was honest, I wanted to move back.

I didn't want to seem ungrateful to Carlisle and Esme but I was desperately hoping that my mom was well enough for me to move back. That was why I had said thanks to Carlisle; that was why I was packing up all my clothes. I had barely slept last night, a bittersweet mixture of sadness an excitement being the cause.

This morning Esme had gripped me tightly in an embrace, and I had to push back the wave of emotion and guilt that overwhelmed me. I had to subtly pull away from her after a while for fear that tears would betray me, because I didn't want them to know that I didn't plan on coming back. Jazz grinned at me and we did one of those stupid manly handshakes because we were too embarrassed to hug each other. Rose was still mad at me, so she didn't bother even coming out of her room. Carlisle had also shaken my hand, smiling cheerfully.

"Say hi to Liz for me." he had said, "And remember; you're only allowed to miss one week of school. I want to see you back here by next Saturday."

I had smiled weakly, nodding my head and unable to meet his eyes.

I had then went out to my car, dragging my suitcase with me and putting it in the boot, then speeding away down the road, glancing back at the house through the rear view mirror as my eyes blurred with the tears I was forcing back.

I fucking hated crying.

It was then, as I had driven away, that the panic had slowly started seeping through the excitement and sadness.

I was panicking because I suddenly thought; just because my mom had asked to see me, that didn't necessarily mean that she had forgiven me. I mean, what if she wanted to see me to tell me that she never wanted to see me again? Or worse, what if she didn't even want to see me in the first place and it had been Carlisle who had talked her into it? I hadn't spoken to her, but Carlisle had called her last night and told her I was coming, so she was expecting me.

By the time I had just reached Port Angeles, I'd gotten so panicked that I'd had to pull over and think for a while. That was also when I'd decided to get something to eat, in hope that eating something would calm me down. The smell of the coffee and bagel I'd gotten had made me feel so sick that I'd had to throw them out of the car without even opening them, then I'd rolled down the window, breathing in the cool, wet air heavily. I then continued on the journey, driving a lot slower and had started finding reasons to stop.

As I sat at the side of the road somewhere in Bremerton, my cell buzzed. I picked it up to see Uncle C flashing on the screen and groaned. I had told him I'd call as soon as I got there, and seeing as I was meant to have got there around one, he was probably wondering where I was. I really didn't want to answer the call, but then I didn't want him to be worried about me either.

"Hello?"

"Edward, where are you? Your mom just called, she said you haven't reached her yet."

I shut my eyes tightly.

Fuck. She was waiting for me. She called to see where I was. Way to make me feel even more nervous.

"Um, I err, kind of made a few stops on the way."

"How many stops did you make exactly?" he questioned, "Because you're over two hours late. Your mom's getting worried."

Great.

"Well, tell her not to be, I'll be there soon."

"Where are you now?"

I looked around.

"Err, I don't know." I spotted a sign, "Bremerton, I think. Someplace called Port Orchard."

"Port Orchard?" he sounded surprised, "you're only there? What are you doing Edward?"

"Nothing Uncle C, really, I just stopped at a couple of places, you know, to eat and get gas and stuff, plus there was a little traffic..." I trailed off.

Carlisle sighed.

"I'll let your mother know. Please hurry up though; she's been waiting for you all morning."

"Ok."

"And call me when you get there." He hung up.

I sighed and started up the engine.

I drove without stopping after that, a little comforted by the fact that she had called asking for me, that she had been waiting for me. I got to Seattle a little over an hour later and a bit of the excitement had crept back in as I drove through the familiar streets. I decided to take a longer route to my house, to take in the city where I had grown up and just let the memories flood me. I drove past my old high school, smiling nostalgically at the huge building as I compared it to Fork's tiny high school.

Thinking of Forks High had probably been a bad idea.

Because of course, my thoughts then went to Bella Swan. I felt a slight pang in my chest at the thought of never seeing her again, at the thought of never getting to tell her that I liked her, never even getting to ask her out.

My mood once again shifted dramatically as I neared my home. The familiar street caused another pang in my chest as the memories engulfed me. They were a muddle of happiness and misery and fear. Happiness at all the wonderful times I'd had growing up with my mom. The fun I'd had riding my bike up and down the street with my old childhood friends.

Yet there were also a lot of sad times on this street. The times I'd had to walk down it on my own to get to school when my mom wouldn't even move from the couch. The times I'd had to stop her from running over to the neighbours to invite them over to ours after she had baked dozens and dozens of cakes, which were all I would have to eat for the next week if she went back to her despondent state on the couch afterwards.

The time I'd had to run down the street screaming for help when I'd found her in the living room on the couch, lifeless.

And the worst part about that time was that it had only been less than two months ago.

I finally reached the house and parked in the driveway. My mom's car must have been in the garage because it was closed. I took a deep breath as I sat in my car staring at the front of the house, my hands shaking slightly as I tapped my fingers on the wheel. It looked exactly the same as it always did, the dark green front door, the crooked white mailbox, the windows were even opened a little like they usually were, though the front lawn was growing a little wilder seeing as I hadn't been there to cut the grass.

The house was fairly large, with five bedrooms, two main bathrooms and an En-suite bathroom in three of the bedrooms including mine and my moms. I had never seen my mom work properly my whole life, I mean, she'd had a few jobs which she'd quit or be fired from after a while, so I wondered how she'd managed to get this house.

I was also never without new clothes and shoes – designer labels in fact – and whatever I wanted I always got. For my birthdays she had gotten me something expensive every year, we always had food in the fridge and cupboards – though my mom didn't cook all the time – and then there was the cleaner that came twice a week.

How did my mom afford all of that stuff?

I got out of the car and walked to the front door. I left my suitcase in the boot of my car, deciding I would get it later. I still had my keys and I wasn't sure whether to use them or not. I stood there a moment, deliberating, when the door flung open.

And my mom stood before me.

She was smiling, her lips slightly shaking and her green eyes watery with unshed tears as she stared at me. Her golden blond hair was a little longer than I remembered, tousled and flowing over her shoulders. She was also a lot skinnier than she used to be, her lilac sweater that used to fit her snugly was now baggy, as was her jeans.

I just stood there, in shock, in awe, in concern.

Finally, after what seemed like thirty seconds of us just looking at each other she held her arms out to me and instinctively, automatically, I moved into her arms, my own arms gripping her frail waist as I buried my face in her shoulder, my tears darkening her sweater to a purple. We stood there for another half a minute as she rocked me slowly, stroking my hair and mumbling,

"I'm sorry honey, I'm so sorry." as I sobbed silently on her shoulder.

We went to sit in the living room on the couch and after a while I was able to stop my pathetic blubbering.

I fucking hated crying.

We sat on the couch in silence for a while, the TV being the only sound in the house. It was oddly comfortable, as if it was one of those happier times when my mom and I would sit together watching TV. My mom held my hand in her hands, squeezing tightly occasionally and glancing at me.

I didn't look at her though; my eyes were fixed on the TV because I could see the glistening of tears on her cheeks, and if I had looked at her I would have surely started snivelling again.

After about half an hour, the phone rang and she jumped slightly then went to answer it.

"Hello?" Pause. "Oh, hi Carl." Pause. "Yes, he's here. He got here about thirty minutes ago." Pause. "Ok. And Carl? Thank you, and thank Esme for me too. Alright. Bye."

She walked back over to the couch and sat next to me. She wiped her eyes with her hands and turned to face me. I still watched the TV though I didn't even have a clue what I was watching.

"Edward?" she said. "Please look at me."

I turned to face her.

She took a deep breath.

"Oh God Edward, you don't know how sorry I am. I...I'm sorry for so many things...I don't even know where to start." She wiped her eyes again.

For some reason, I couldn't find my voice. I just sat there and watched her, which was probably best because then I could hear everything she had to say first before reacting.

At that moment, I just felt so overwhelmed with emotions that I didn't even know how to act; I was just kind of...numb.

"I'm sorry for not telling you more about the day your father died." I glanced at the photos on the mantelpiece of my dad, his bronze hair, the same as mine, his strong jaw line – the same as mine. My mom saw me looking.

"You look exactly like him you know. The spitting image." She smiled a sad smile and continued, "I've only told you that he died before you were born. Well, he actually died the day you were born."

My numbness was weakened slightly and my mouth dropped open in shock.

"He was a pilot – like I told you – and he got the news that I was in hospital having you, while on the way back from a trip. I don't remember the exact details of what happened but...the plane crashed and...He...he didn't make it. I wasn't told any of this until a few hours after I'd had you, because of course, they couldn't tell me that my husband was dead while I was giving birth. I was distraught, as you can imagine, basically screaming down the hospital. I got post partum depression a few months after and it got so bad that I couldn't actually even look after you properly, and your aunt Esme came to stay with me to help look after you for a few weeks even though she was pregnant with Jasper and Rose herself."

She paused, looking at me, trying to gauge my reaction.

I remained blank as I waited for her to continue.

"So anyway, I got help for my post partum depression, and got better. But," she paused, "But during the years, you were only a baby so you won't remember, I got depressed again. I loved you, of course, but I was still grieving your father and....I don't know. Your uncle Carlisle, being a doctor, told me to go and get help. So I did, for you, because there was no way I was going to be a bad mother to you. So I got checked out and it turns out that I'm Bipolar. I have Bipolar disorder or Manic Depression."

I knew that already so I just nodded slowly.

"They say that it's genetic, you know, some people are more predisposed to have it and an event can trigger it. Obviously, the death of your father as well as your birth must have been the trigger for mine. Anyway, I had to have treatment and counselling and I had to take pills to keep my condition, you know, under control. I took my medication and did everything the doctors told me to do and I was so much better. So I thought I didn't need my medication anymore and stopped taking it, and of course I got bad again. This was when you were around six."

I remembered.

I remembered the very first time she had started acting strange. The morning I had come down for breakfast and had found her sitting at the table, eyes vacant and blinking slowly, and I had tried to wake her up, thinking she might be sleeping. Tried to pull her, telling her she needed to help me get ready for school, telling her she needed to make me breakfast and drop me at school. And she hadn't budged. Just sat there, not speaking; barely blinking as she stared at the space in front of her.

I had had to dress myself, pulling on a ruffled sweater over my pyjama pants. I had had to find myself something to eat, climbing up the counters and eating dry cereal straight out of the box. I had had to walk the few blocks to my school on my own. The teachers had been alarmed at the state I was in and by the fact that I'd turned up to school late, and on my own. When they'd asked me where my mom was, I told them that she was acting funny. The Child Protection Officers had come to my house after school and by then my mom had pulled herself together enough for them to not be too suspicious. It was then that she had told me that I could never tell anyone when she was acting 'funny' because then I would be taken away from her. I, of course, didn't want to be taken away so I had complied, and never said a word to anyone again. I just learnt to take care of myself whenever my mom was in one of her 'funny' moods.

She shook her head. "It was so goddamn selfish of me to make you keep my behaviour a secret, it was so unfair. But I knew that if anyone found out about my instability then you would be taken into care in a heartbeat and I couldn't lose you too, not my beautiful baby boy."

My brows furrowed as I took in her words. Anger was slowly creeping in, replacing the numbness.

"So...if you wanted me so badly, if you loved me so much, then why were you so fucking selfish mom? Huh? Why did you try to kill yourself? Why did you try to leave me alone without a mom or dad in this world?" I questioned.

She was sobbing, as she shook her head.

"I wasn't being selfish, I...I wanted you to have a better life, your life would have been a lot better without me, I mean, I was, am a shit mother, I didn't want to let go but I think that is the best thing that I could have ever done for you."

My fist clenched at her words.

"That's bullshit mom and you know it! How can you possibly think that killing yourself would have been better for me?" I yelled furiously.

"Well, look at you now, I mean, you look so much happier with your aunt and -"

"Fucking selfish bitch! If you had taken your fucking medication then you would have been fine to look after me, but you were too fucking selfish to even think about doing that. Instead you wanted to choose the easy way out. Do you know how I felt that night mom? Seeing you lying there on that couch? I thought you were already fucking dead! Do you have any idea how that feels? Then, to not see you for weeks after, just worrying and scared to death that you would hate me for having to phone the authorities. And you even had the fucking cheek to be mad at me! Mad at me for not letting you die, what kind of twisted bitch are you?"

"Edward please." She reached out for me.

I flinched back.

"Don't touch me."

"Please Edward, I'm not trying to justify my actions I just want you to know why I did it." She sobbed, "And yes I was mad at you because...you should have just let me die! You would be so much better off without me Edward. You would still have family, I mean, your uncle and aunt are practically your second parents -"

I shook my head incredulously, not believing what I was hearing.

I thought back to that night.

January 3rd. I had walked into the living room to find her passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of vodka lying on the floor next to her. Thinking she was just asleep, I had gotten her a blanket and went to cover her. That's when I had seen the empty bottle of painkillers hanging loosely from her fingers. I tried slapping her, shaking her, praying, hoping she'd wake up. And she didn't. I didn't want to call an ambulance because I was afraid that I would be taken away from her, and also because I was afraid they would tell me that she was dead. So I had run out of the house screaming for help, banging on my neighbour's door and she had called the ambulance. Then I'd had to go into a Home for a few days while they contacted Carlisle and made arrangements for where I would stay.

Those days had been the most horrifying days of my life and my mom was sitting there telling me that she thought it would be best if she had died.

I was livid.

Without another word I stood up and walked to the door, ignoring her sobs and her calling my name. I slammed the front door hard, the walls vibrating behind me, and I got in my car and sped off down the road, not giving a shit where I was driving, I just needed to get out of there.

I came back to the house at around 2:15AM.

She was waiting up for me, sitting in the same place I'd left her. She didn't say anything to me as I stalked past her, dragging my suitcase with me up to my room.

My room was exactly as I'd left it. I grinned as I looked around. My guitar was still in the corner, a little dusty, but in the exact position I'd left it when I left. I looked at my collection of CD's and my sound system in the corner, my wall with my bookcase, filled with books. My desk, with the sheets of paper from the song I had half finished composing, still on it. My huge bed was looking so comfortable at that particular moment; I just wanted to climb underneath the covers and sleep.

But my stomach growled and I remembered that I hadn't eaten anything for the whole day. I went down to the kitchen, the fridge and cupboards full as always, and made myself a sandwich. The living room light was off, so that meant that my mom had probably gone to bed.

It was so strange, I mean, this last month felt like it was all unreal now that I was back home, it was as if nothing had changed. However, I had been wrong to think that I would be able to come back. My mom certainly wasn't well enough for me to come back. She probably wouldn't want me to stay anyway, and to be honest, now that I was here, I was dying to go back to Forks.

I managed to stay for a week though. My mom and I talked some more, she asked me about how things were going in Forks; I asked her what it was like in the hospital. She was taking mood stabilizers and she did seem a lot better than she was when I had been living there. Everyday a nurse would come to check up on her and make sure she was taking her meds. She cooked for me every day; and then we would sit and watch TV for a bit, like we used to.

The week was good, after that first day, I had never argued with her again, we just spent time together. We would go for drives or walks, just talking about everything and anything. I asked her how she seemed to have a lot of money when she didn't work and she told me that my grandfather, Carlisle Cullen Senior had been really rich. Our house was the house her and uncle C grew up in. Plus, my grandfather had left her and uncle C a ton of money in his will. She said she didn't need to work, but had sometimes gotten bored and so she would get a job to have something to do.

She also talked a lot more about my dad, which she had never done before, she told me everything about him and showed me pictures and videos. I did get a little pissed off that she had never told me or showed me any of that stuff before but I forced it back. I was proud to have him as my dad, he seemed like he had been a good guy from what she told me and I was sad, for the first time in my life, that I didn't know him.

During the week, I couldn't ever stop thinking about Bella. When I wasn't talking to my mom, and when I lay in my bed, or when I was driving, or even watching TV, I would think about her. It was driving me nuts. I even pathetically called her, every day at 5:30, but she never answered. I mean, I knew that her dad was at work but where was she? She would have been home from school at that time. I thought that maybe I had the wrong number but I had practically memorised her number and was almost certain it was correct.

On Friday when I had called her and she still didn't answer, I just gave up, figuring she probably just didn't want to talk to me.