(Disclaimer… Twilight is not even close to being mine.)

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13.

"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills." – Ernest Hemingway

…

Bella

…

Forks: I expected it to feel like coming home, but I barely recognized it. The air here was so dense – wet with humidity. The forest-lined streets and run-down buildings were only vaguely familiar. Everything was different, just slightly off. When we arrived, I expected something to happen (an alarm? an ambush?), but nothing came.

In the dead of night, we coasted down the main street in the small, dreary town, passing the high school, the Newtons' store, and plenty of empty storefronts.

I anxiously considered whether I'd be safe around my dad… what if I lost control? Killed him? My selfish mind didn't even want to consider the possibility. Moment by moment, I analyzed my reactions to humans since I'd been changed.

My first hunt after draining some animals with Jasper: Peter had taken me to the ghetto. I remembered very clearly the moments before I gave in and bit him. The taste of the smoggy city air, the sneer on my victim's face, and Peter's soft kiss on my neck. I'd been in a trance almost, but I'd known exactly when to let myself kill him.

And my second hunt… was something else entirely. I had been something else entirely. Looking back, it'd been like I was in a dream. Being attacked and changed, becoming a vampire, and drinking blood felt just like TV, like one of those bad CW shows with all the magic and vampires and beautiful people. But when I saw the dead body of the guy I'd killed outside of that strip club, me being a vampire was way too real.

Shit. This introspection really wasn't going to help me right now. I decided to follow my instincts – everything in me told me I wouldn't hurt my dad.

And as for the wolves? If I had my way, I'd never have to deal with them again. The wolves left a bitter impression on me, and I was all for closure, but I'd rather avoid whatever awkward conversation we'd have. Me returning as a vampire after Jacob and the Pack had basically sentenced me to death-by-vampire by throwing me out of Forks… too awkward for my tastes.

I wasn't going to fade into the background and just hope no one brought up what happened if we met up with the wolves, though – I was done being so weak-willed, that's for damn sure. So, as we reached Charlie's neighborhood, I said to Peter and Jasper, "If we see the pack, the Quileute wolves I mean, let me deal with? And just don't… don't hurt them, okay?" Still just boys in my mind.

Peter looked over at me, and then his face shifted when he took in my frazzled state. His lifted his arm for me to curl into him. I turned my face into his neck, breathed in his deep and soothing scent, and whispered a kiss to the faint scars on the skin there. My mind calmed with every second of touching Peter and breathing him in.

Jasper, as an empath, had nothing on Peter's influence on me and the way he helped me with my mood swings from being a newborn and all my recent trauma. I hoped, maybe irrationally, that Peter wasn't like this with all the newborns he'd raised over the years…

In a few short minutes, I was walking up to the front of my dad's house alone, having promised to meet Peter and Jasper at the Cullen house after I left my dad. I stood outside on the sidewalk, frozen in uncertainty, as I listened to the sounds from inside the house: SportsCenter coming from the living room, the humming refrigerator, the occasional rustle and Charlie's blood, pumping through his veins clear as day.

I waited until his breathing had deepened and then snuck in, hoping he'd be asleep. My plan: wake him up, convince him he was dreaming, and somehow give him… closure. I hoped.

When I walked into the living room of that house that threw me back several years in the past, I barely recognized my dad. Charlie looked haggard as hell, slumped on the couch in front of the TV, surrounded by empty beer cans and the TV announcer's voice. His once-bright eyes drooped with drunken fatigue; he was in a worse state than I'd ever seen him. Guilt clenched in my stomach. I knew for sure that I'd helped do this to him by disappearing like I had.

I'd left because Jacob had forced me to – but he was right. I was a danger magnet. If I'd stayed around, Victoria would have kept coming for me and killed anyone who tried to stop her, the entire wolf pack if she'd had to. It hadn't been Victoria who killed me, but even so, I hadn't even made it to my twenty-first birthday.

I could smell Charlie's blood – bittersweet and strangely familiar, like me, but heavily diluted with alcohol. I sat on the couch next and shook him lightly by the shoulder. As I suspected, he barely responded. He grunted, forming half-words, then opened his bleary eyes a creak. His gaze was glassy and unfocused.

"Dad," I nudged him. "Charlie."

He shook his head slightly, then slurred, "Bella… s'that you?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I paused and took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not really here right now – and I only have a minute. I just want you to know that… I'm okay. It's…" Now that I was finally here, sitting next to Charlie, I felt my conviction leave me. Words eluded me, catching flustered in my throat.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I left, but I had to. It wasn't safe for me in Forks anymore. It wasn't your fault, it was mine. And… you don't have to worry about me anymore."

"What? Bells, what are you…?" Charlie interrupted, struggling against the arm of the couch to sit upright.

"I'm dead." I blurted, eyes wide, and then prepared to lie. "I was attacked. It was random – wrong place, wrong time. You need to let it go. Let me go. I'm really okay now, and I want you to be, too." I sighed and clenched my hands on my jean-covered thighs.

"I'm sorry, Bells." My dad sighed and his sad eyes drooped shut. As he fell back into a drunken sleep, his face relaxed. The deep lines on his face smoothed, and his mouth lifted slightly from its sad frown.

It wasn't much, but I hoped I'd helped him… that he would let me go and take back his own life. Charlie began to snore, and I fondly pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and covered him, hoping he'd awake with some measure of peace.

I left my dad and ventured upstairs, wanting to see if any of my old things were still in my room. When I pushed open the door, I wasn't surprised to see it much same as I'd left it. The air was stale and dusty, and I was plenty grossed out as I wondered if any of my dirty clothes had been crunched together on my floor for years.

Thankfully, it looked like Charlie or someone had cleaned up a little, but the room was largely the same as I'd left it. I felt guilty for sure knowing that Charlie had kept up hope all these years that I was okay and might come home.

I rummaged through my old closet, finding an empty shoulder tote, a shoebox of old pictures and memories I'd left behind, and some of the clothes I'd missed. As a newborn vampire, I had only the vaguest memories of human life – broad strokes of people, places, events, and few details. Here I was, though, with those lost details in my hands.

Shoving everything in the tote and pulling a soft hooded sweatshirt over my head, I walked back to the door and took one last look back at the room, pausing with one hand on the doorknob. I looked over all my old belongings – my crusty old computer, my bookshelves with all the books I'd loved growing up, the purple comforter on the bed.

Seeing all this, I almost wished I could go back to my life just before I met Edward Cullen, before I'd been corrupted. Before I'd started down the past that would ultimately lead to my death… but would also lead me to Peter. I still didn't know for sure what was going on between Peter and I; we'd never even talked about our relationship, or whatever it was we're doing.

But the way he made me feel… electrified and yet completely safe. I'd felt a curious pull toward him since I'd first seen him, that time he saved me on the street from those crazed vamps.

But then I remembered Peter. I left the room with a smile, and then walked out of Charlie's life for the last time.

My momentarily uplifted spirits had fallen once again by the time I'd left the house. Next on my to-do list: avoid the Quileute wolves on my way back to the Cullen house.

But as I ran, I could only watch as if from an internal distance, as my emotions raged – shame, regret, resignation, and yet hope – Peter's face welcomed me in my vision of the future. Back to the Cullens' house, back to Peter, who somehow knew, always knew.

I didn't know what I expected, working myself all up into an emotional wreck – I knew I wanted comfort, normalcy, and whatever balm that just seeing Peter instantly covered me with.

I ran through the endless forest, as the trees dripped condensation and the mosquitoes buzzed, until I broke through the brush to the Cullen property. A disgusting scent dominated - Peter and Jasper's scents fell weak underneath the overpowering smell of… wet dog and shit. I had a flash of a memory as my nose wrinkled in disgust. I remembered Jacob arguing with me that vampires smell awful to the wolves, sickly sweet, and that the wolves smelled just as bad to vampires…

My first sight of Peter and Jasper was of Jasper's back; he crouched in front of Peter's slumped figure, leaning weakly on the foot of the porch stairs. My steps faltered with surprise, and my heart dropped. What the hell happened?

…

(A/N: Yeah, I know this was really short… oh well. Only a couples more chapters to go!)