Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by HollettLA.

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Higher

Chapter Eight: Day Six

June 17th 1994

My skin felt like it was burning, and I wasn't even outside—I wasn't in the sun. I was in my bedroom, sitting on my bed in panties and a tank while the fan blew hot air on me.

The radio—that's blasting right now, playing some Salt-N-Pepa—said that today was the hottest day, and the city hasn't seen heat like this in over ten years.

It was one-hundred-something with a crapload of humidity.

People were warned to look after pets, babies, and the elderly.

Because no one gives a fuck about the rest of us.

There are cooling centers opening or something.

We so needed an air conditioner.

Like…at Edward's apartment, they each have an A/C in their bedrooms, but not in the rest of the place.

Alice has central air.

Sadly, she's not home. Her mother took her shopping for her birthday, which is tomorrow. Apparently, Mr. Brandon has some work function, so they're celebrating today with her family. I was invited over for dinner and cake. I just didn't want to intrude.

I'll probably see her later, definitely tomorrow for her actual birthday.

Rose and I plan to show up in the afternoon with our own cake, champagne, and party crap from the dollar store. But we'll have to leave at six when Jasper comes to take Alice out. Things are going well with them, and they manage to see each other often.

The bestie plans to have dinner with Jasper—although he won't know it's her birthday—and then take him home, so they can finally fuck.

Alice knows we need to celebrate, whether Jasper knows or not, and at ten or eleven—whenever they're done—we'll come back, drink ourselves silly and have a small party or hit up a club.

I'm hoping we all go back to Tunnel.

She doesn't know what she wants to do yet, but her parents not being around works in her favor.

Rose is working 'til close today, and I'd never go there on a day off.

Fuck that…and have to see Jake's pitiful face?

The day Edward showed up and asked Jake to cover for me . . . Jake did, but he can't let me forget about it. He even said something about how I get away with mad shit, I don't do shit, and I should get fired.

Fuck him.

I slacked off one day, as I usually do work.

Jake told Rose I led him on, and he's acting like a wounded little boy.

For the past six days, since the night I met him, I've seen Edward every day, and each day...we have mind-blowing sex. He makes me so happy. I feel safe, secure, admired…satisfied.

The list goes on and on.

We haven't rolled since that night, but I don't need to take Ecstasy to feel its glorious effects when I'm with Edward.

Every time we're together, it's indescribable, unique, and amazing.

And I can't keep my hands off of him.

Edward doesn't mind.

When we fuck, the world disappears, and we're always fucking. I manage to lose myself in him, in what we're doing, and it's all so magical—there's no end to what that man is capable of making me feel. He picks me up every day, as soon as we're both done with work, and then it's a fuck-fest that lasts until we pass out.

The few nights that Renee has been here, Edward sets his alarm for like four a.m.

Then I'm home and in bed before Mom even wakes up.

My mother started her summer school sessions—thank God—but her class was canceled today.

Minutes ago, Renee and Phil actually left. They decided to go out to the Hamptons. His coworker supposedly has a house, and they're staying there. It was spur of the moment or whatever.

She'll be gone a few days.

Edward's been here once, but he didn't stay long. And after we fucked, he kept touching all my stuff, wanted to see any and all pictures I had.

I thought he was so cute that day, and he told me I had a kid room.

It was hella fun having beastly, monkey sex on my twin-sized bed, though.

I groaned at the thought alone, clamping my thighs closed and turning to my side.

As soon as Mom said she was leaving, I had a genius idea.

Edward could stay here.

We'd have privacy—no one listening from their bedrooms.

But fuck that.

I'll take Jasper's dumbass comments over this heat any day.

Restless, because I couldn't lay here anymore, I left my bed to grab a cigarette.

Unfortunately, my lighter wouldn't work, and I searched for matches—getting frustrated.

I left my room to light it on the stove, and it actually felt cooler in here.

Still bored, I leaned back against the sink to smoke as my eyes traveled around the messy kitchen.

Hungry, I thought about eating something, but there was literally nothing in the fridge, except that nasty crap from last night.

Renee made spaghetti and meatballs for Phil. They tasted like shit, but she gets props for trying, and she had to use almost every utensil and pan we had. She said, "Leave it," she'll do it when she comes back.

The apartment will stink like rotten garbage by then, and I think she knew I'd relent—clean it.

I always do.

Lazy, hungry, and tired as fuck, I picked my wedgie and schlepped into the bathroom.

I promised myself a long time ago that I'd stop stealing Mom's diet pills. I don't really need to lose weight.

Well, a few pounds wouldn't hurt.

But Adipex gives you dumb energy, and it makes hunger disappear.

It'd kill two birds with one stone right now.

With no food and a mess to clean, taking one sounded like a plan.

Renee only takes them when she wants to lose a couple, or is dragging, so I knew they'd be in the medicine cabinet.

Mom had Percocets left over from her root canal, too.

Briefly, I wondered how much Edward could get for them, like if he sold them? And how long it'd take him to unload them?

Then I could eat this weekend . . .

Mom was short this month, and she had to remind me about how much she misses the child support Charlie gave her every week.

Shame on me for turning eighteen.

The paycheck I got on Wednesday had to go right to Con-Ed, or they were going to shut us off. Renee's behind—we're behind on that bill.

And she goes to the Hamptons . . .

Besides having no food or money, I have nothing to wear tomorrow night for Alice's birthday.

I popped one of those speed shits into my mouth, and I drank the water from the sink to wash it down.

I took the painkillers, just to see if I could get some money for them.

She won't even notice they're gone.

Before I left the bathroom, I threw my cigarette butt into the toilet and flushed it, and then I went to put the pills in my backpack.

I switched off my radio and I put in a mix tape, and I blasted that shit as loud as it could go.

Then I entered every room to open every window and turn on every fan while I smoked another cigarette—waiting to feel energized.

As soon as I felt the air circulating, I started by doing the dishes. The meatball pan and the sauce pot had to soak a bit, but I managed to do the rest—clean all the countertops, fold the towels that were forgotten in the dryer, and then I swept the linoleum floor.

I was on a roll, amped with the fast beats of freestyle dance music spurring me on.

After randomly dancing for about…I don't know how long, I had to chug two glasses of ice water; I had cotton mouth, and I stuck my head in the freezer before opening the fridge so my whole body could cool down.

"Fuck." It felt amazing; I used a dishrag to wipe the sweat from my face and neck and from under my boobs.

When I actually developed goose bumps, I shut the doors, and it was baffling—how fast the heat drowned me again.

Nevertheless, I still had all this energy, so I cleaned the bathroom.

Done with that, I took a cool shower, and I left the door open, needing to hear my music in my bones, and not needing the hot steam of the shower filling the bathroom.

Not bothering to dry off, I wrapped a towel around myself, thinking I'd lounge naked in front of the fan for a bit. Then I danced down the hall, singing my heart out and closing my eyes, really getting into it.

"Fuck!" I threw my fist out, swearing I was having a heart attack since I'd bumped into someone. I hadn't seen them; I didn't hear them enter.

When I realized it was Phil, I calmed…a little, but still… "What the fuck?"

"Easy, Isabella." He chuckled, placing his hands on my biceps to squeeze them. "I knocked…" His eyes fell away from my face.

"Get off me." I backed up, wiping droplets of water away from my face. "The door was locked—"

He smiled as he wiggled my mother's set in front of me.

"Where is she? I thought you guys were…" I hugged my towel close, and I thanked God that I hadn't left the bathroom naked.

"She forgot her bag of toiletries on her bed, asked me to run up and grab it." He shrugged, and he wasn't exactly leering, but he was looking, eyes wandering.

This was…like the most uncomfortable shit ever, and I felt sick to my stomach now.

"Whatever. You should leave…like right now." I backed away from him, pointing. "Go!"

Phil grinned, taking a step in my direction.

"Bella!" My mother hollered from the door, which made her boyfriend stop where he was.

I let out a breath, relieved to see her for a change. "Hey…"

"What's the hold up?" Mom stared at Phil. "What's been taking you so long?!" she screamed.

So long? I thought.

"Bella, turn that shit music down!"

No longer mortified but suddenly enraged, I didn't give a fuck why they'd come back, and I quickly entered my bedroom to stop my tape.

All I cared about was when they were leaving.

Since my heart was still beating rapidly, I took several deep breaths in the quiet—still angry.

It was silent, save the sounds of the fans blowing.

But then I hopped around again when my mother just waltzed into my bedroom.

"You can't knock?" I asked. "I'm getting a lock—"

She slumped her shoulders. "Can't I just say goodbye again in peace?"

"You could knock first…you saw me…the whole world saw me in my towel—"

"Phil was here. Why wouldn't you get dressed—"

"I didn't know he was here until I left the shower, and I didn't hear him, and you gave him your keys?" I was shouting, and it actually felt kind of amazing to get this aggression out.

I needed to get it out. "And this is my house! Why should I have to worry about shit like that? But since I have to now…I'm getting my own lock."

"So you can shut me out even more?"

I laughed, stepping back, astonished by that remark. "Are you fucking kidding me? Who's on their way to the fucking beach right now?"

"Watch your mouth—"

"No! You're ridiculous! I had to pay the light bill while you're going on some vacation—you also left me with no money, no food in the fucking fridge, and you left one helluva mess, too, that I just cleaned!" I ranted.

But I wasn't finished, just had to suck in half a breath. "Then I take a shower to cool off, and come out to find your perv boyfriend has been here for however long? Stop making yourself my victim—that I do shit to you, that I shut you out. You drew those lines a long time ago, because a cock is always more important than me—your own fucking kid! You're fucking horrible! I hate you—" My head whipped to the side when she slapped me.

"Nice," I whispered, swearing I wouldn't cry. It'd been an insanely long time since I'd shed a tear, always so used to Renee's behavior. And in general...I just never cry. Even if I'm sad, I manage to push through it, and I'm never reduced to tears.

When my eyes pricked, it was actually painful.

It hurt more than the slap she'd given me.

My mother gasped, covered her mouth with her hands. "Bella, I'm—"

"Please…leave my room." I didn't think I could feel any worse.

What I really wanted to do was keep going: make comparisons, let her know that the things she's done are cruel—meanwhile, she acts like I've hurt her in some way—or tell her how I think she secretly hates me.

"I'm sorry," she said, pushing my wet hair away.

"Stop." I didn't want her touching me. "Just go—have a good time." I pointed to my door.

"Get dressed, and then we'll talk—"

"Talk about what?" I wiped traitorous tears away from my eyes.

"A few things. I was going to wait until we came back—"

"Get it over with now." I hoped she did because I couldn't feel any worse.

"Number one…who are you?" She gestured to me. "This isn't my Isabella, talking to me like this—"

"Because I'm not your doormat anymore, Renee? Because I finally realize how badly you've treated me? How you're still treating me? Come on. You're such a hypocrite. The things you do—I don't wanna be around you anymore than you wanna be here."

"That's not true. I'm home—"

"You're not—you're delusional!" I cringed. "The one before Phil, Phil, and the next Phil will still be more important than me—"

"No." She shook her head.

I gritted my teeth together. "What else did you wanna talk about?" I wanted her gone. I wanted her to leave.

"I'm going to be around a lot more." She cracked a smile. "Things are amazing with Phil, and since his lease is up the beginning of next month—"

"No fucking way." I chuckled despite my crying.

"He adores you—"

"He doesn't even know me!" I shouted.

"You're so upset you pay some bills—he'll help with that."

"I don't mind helping out! I mind when you cry poverty and then take off someplace—leaving me high and dry!"

She carried on like I hadn't said anything. "I'll be here every night." She rubbed up my bicep. "And we'll work on things. We'll work on getting closer again."

I nodded; meanwhile, I wondered if Alice's mom would let me live there. Dad will take me, but then I'd have to live in Queens.

"You'll see. It'll be great. In the fall, we'll all have schedules, and we'll have dinner together..." She sounded fucking wistful. "I love Phil, and if you could just open up a bit, I think you will, too."

I stared at the floor, willing her to leave my bedroom.

By some miracle, she must have caught on. "You get dressed. We'll talk more."

"Shouldn't you go?" I asked, fucking fuming.

If we were in a cartoon, there'd be steam coming out of my ears.

She shrugged, going for the door. "The beach isn't going anywhere. You're more important."

"Do you have any money?" I asked since she still had her purse on.

"Before I go—"

"No…now before you forget. Please? I want you to go and have fun, but you left so fast." I tried my best to sound normal, keeping my voice down. "How am I supposed to eat?"

Her face fell. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

I'd rather starve than they stay. "If you don't have any money—" I stopped when there was a knock.

It was Phil, and he didn't bother waiting for an answer; he just walked in.

"Get the fuck out!" I shouted.

"Bella!" My mother chastised.

Phil turned to me.

I jumped into my closet to get out of his line of sight, and I banged my head into the wall.

They exchanged a few words.

Once more, I wished they'd just leave.

"You can come out. He just wanted to give you this." My mother snuck her hand in to give me money.

"For the peep show?" I cried.

"What?" She knelt down. "He's not a bad guy."

"Yes, he is. He's creepy, and I don't want his money," I sobbed, and I wanted to tell her, that the thought of taking Phil's money, especially after what just happened, made me feel dirty. "I don't want anything from anyone—"

"Oh, Bella…please, talk to me." She pulled me into her arms, and I let her do it—despite everything. "I know something's wrong…and we're going to fix things between us. You'll see." She palmed my cheek.

"Phil...Mom, he—"

"Phil is amazing. You'll see." She smiled, her hand still on my face.

I pushed her away, huffing a breath. "You say I don't talk to you, but you can't listen."

She nodded. "Get dressed. All three of us will—"

"Forget it. I'm fine." I sniffled and pulled farther back to stand.

"Just take it." She placed the cash on my dresser. "Get dressed." Renee left my room.

As fast as I could, I propped my chair in front of my door before I threw on denim shorts and another tank.

There was sixty bucks on my chest of drawers, and I didn't know if I should take it, but I did.

I snagged my Walkman, a few cassettes, my birth control pills, and some underwear—stuffing them all into my backpack.

Then I brushed my hair before tying it into a knot.

Doing all of this was so I'd be prepared.

Because if they're not leaving, I am.

Who was I kidding?

Regardless, I didn't want to be in this house.

Searching all my hiding spots, I looked for weed, maybe a random joint.

But I had nothing.

When I left my bedroom, I saw Renee and Phil sitting in the living room.

He was fast to stand when I approached. "Listen, I don't want to cause problems between you and your mother."

Mom stared at me wide-eyed and then turned back to him. "I told you. You're not."

Phil waited expectantly for me to speak.

I could have told him the truth, that I didn't want him moving in, that I thought he was too young for my mother, that I thought he was an asshole, a pervert who watched me in the shower—possibly got a full-frontal when I left the tub.

But I didn't because of the pleading look my mother gave me.

"You're not," I said.

Honestly, Renee and I have problems that started way before this Phil came into the picture.

Mom nodded. "There's plenty of room here for all of us. You'll get used to the idea of us being a family soon enough."

They were both smiling.

"Okay." I cleared my throat. "I'm—I told Alice I was going to meet her. Her mom is making dinner, and there's going to be cake."

"We're on our way out anyway." Phil nodded.

"Can you sleep over there tonight?" Mom asked, going into the kitchen to light a cigarette. "I'd feel better…with us leaving." She suddenly cared again. "Otherwise, you know the rules. No parties—" Luckily, the phone rang, which interrupted her—stopped her from saying more crap. "Hello?" Mom looked to me. "She's here . . . uh, who's calling?"

My stomach dropped to my knees, knowing that was Edward. Renee knows Rose and Alice, and nobody else calls me.

Mom placed the phone to her chest, grinning. "Who's Edward?"

I gulped, reaching for the phone.

"Who is he?" she insisted, like we'd squeal and have a girlfriend moment.

I furrowed my brow as I stared at her delusional ass.

She complains I don't confide in her . . .

"He's the guy I've been fucking." I snatched the phone away from her. "Hello?" I watched the color drain from her face as she started to pace.

Now Renee was pissed.

Good.

"'Sup?" Edward asked.

I turned the corner to walk down the hall. "When are you done with work?" I whispered.

He whistled. "It's the hottest day of the year, and people are calling like it's the end of the fuckin' world."

I twirled the cord around my finger. "Can I meet you? I'll take the train to wherever you are," I whispered. "I can hang out in the van while you—"

"What's wrong? You a'ight?" He sounded like he was smoking a cigarette.

My shoulders dropped as I leaned against the wall. "Yeah, I'm fine." I didn't want to push myself on him. I just craved him, everything about him, needing to get out of my head, also needing someplace to go.

"I hope to be off soon, but the calls and pages keep comin' in…Uh, Jazz is at the crib. If you wanna—Whoa, somethin' up at home? Wit'cha moms?" he spluttered.

"Something like that," I said.

"You can't talk right now?" he hedged.

"Not really, no—" I heard a click. "Hello…?" I ran to the base to see my mother's finger on it. She hung up on Edward. "Why would you do that?" I slammed the phone down, totally going for her finger, but she moved it.

"The boy you've been fucking? Isabella—"

"He's a man, Ma, not a boy. Did he sound like a boy…?" I asked.

The phone rang again, and my mother picked it up just to hang it up. "Man? How old is he?" She looked to Phil and back to me.

"Who cares?" I laughed. "Seriously?"

"When did you start having sex?" she shouted.

I bit my cuticle, feeling anxious out of nowhere—I felt it crawling up my neck—and I was still so angry with her. The mixture almost had me shaking, but it was probably because of that diet pill I'd taken.

My emotions were still my emotions, though.

Then the phone rang a third time, and I didn't lunge for it fast enough.

"Hello?" my mother answered. "How old are you?"

Click.

I hung up on Edward myself this time.

"The other day you said you didn't even have a boyfriend." Her foot tapped.

I shrugged. "Because he's not my boyfriend."

She gaped at me.

"Youse should go . . . You're going to hit all kinds of traffic." I bit my thumbnail, still feeling awkward, no matter how pissed I was.

"How long have you been seeing him?" She stared me down.

I took a deep breath, pushing all of my feelings aside—fuck it. "Hmmm, I met him six days ago…and we've been fucking ever since."

She gasped again. "You—"

"Hey…" I widened my arms, actually getting a kick out of this now. "It's your can of worms. You wanted it open...You wanna know what I've been up to? I've been having lots and lots of—"

"Shut up!" Mom hissed. "You shut your dirty mouth!"

A boisterous laugh escaped me.

"Let's take it down a notch." Phil walked over to rub Renee's back, and just his voice had me on edge again. "Let's take it easy. We'll sit down and talk." He placed a hand on my shoulder to run it down my back, and I moved away from him. "We'll get to the bottom of things—"

I gave him the finger. "What do you want a play-by-play? You fuckin' perv!"

He chuckled and held Mom back from coming at me. "Who are you? What's goin' on with you?" she screamed.

"Nothing!" I shouted, cringing in place, and sure enough—the phone started ringing. "Can I pick that up?"

Phil fucking answered. "Hello?"

"Great! Just fucking great!" I kicked the wall.

"Who am I?" Phil asked, humor in his tone. "Why don't we start with who you are? And what your intentions are where Isabella is concerned?"

"You don't even live here!" I shouted at him. "His intentions? He intends to fuck me stupid!" I pulled the cord right out of the fucking wall. "There—he can't call no more!"

When I turned to Mom, she was sobbing.

"Seriously?" I asked. Her crocodile tears pissed me off even more, and I was enraged again, no longer anxious. "You're crying? Because I had sex...? Meanwhile, you're always trying to be "the cool mom who doesn't give a fuck."" I made air quotes with my fingers. "The truth is you just don't give a fuck. You just pretend you do...Why? For Phil? To put on a show? Trust me—this perv doesn't give a shit!" I jerked a thumb to her man.

"Stop!" Phil shouted.

I put my hand up, so he could talk to it. "What were you doing at eighteen, Renee?"

"I was pregnant with you!"

I snorted through a laugh, and I wasn't about to tell her that I was on birth control. She'd just harp on me some more.

"I don't know you anymore." She wiped her eyes. "The last time we talked…you were too shy, just barely kissing boys."

"Well, I kiss girls now, too." I nodded, stepping toward the door. "You lost your virginity at fifteen…I waited 'til I was seventeen. And I'm done. My sex life is none—so not anyone's business. I gave an inch—don't nag me and try for a mile."

"Can you level with me?" She spoke to me but stole a peek at Phil.

Renee was definitely putting on a show . . . Mom and her fucking theatrics.

I smirked, gripping the straps of my mini backpack.

Renee turned to me again. "I didn't even know you had a sex life, and he's not even your boyfriend?" The tears came back to her eyes. "You've only known him a week? Since when are you some slut?"

"I'm not a slut...and you should talk. You calling me a slut?" I chuckled, pointing to myself.

"Watch it!" She bit out.

"Oh, afraid of what your boyfriend with the wandering eyes will think?" I quirked a brow, and at this point, I didn't give a fuck. For whatever reason—most likely because of how many times she's hurt me—hurting her felt good.

"Fuckin' tramp!" She raised her hand to me again, but Phil held her back.

"Edward's the only one I'm fucking, if that makes you feel better." Unaffected, I shrugged, turning the deadbolt.

She groaned, stiffening within Phil's embrace.

"Guess not . . . Bye." I opened the door.

She slammed it closed. "Kissing girls, too? Are you confused? Is this some cry for attention?"

I stuck my tongue out, sick of this already.

"Answer me!" She pulled my bun—making my hair fall down—but then she took a step back to blow out a breath. "I'm calm . . . just answer me," she whispered.

"No!" I shouted. "I'm not confused, and...haven't you ever met a man you couldn't keep your hands off of?" Neither of them answered me. "I'm outtie. Enjoy your trip." I opened the door, fast to take a few steps. "I'll be back whenever."

"Bella…are you at least being safe?" she asked.

"Yeah, I swallow—"

She took off her shoe and chucked it at me; it missed. "Get your fast-little-ass back in here!"

"I'm not a fucking idiot! Okay? We're safe. I'm safe!" I stomped down the rest of the flight to look up to her from the landing. "I'm not gonna get knocked up like you, marry some dude I don't love, and I'd never—never bring a child into the world that I don't want! For as much as you've ignored me my whole life, you should'a had a fuckin' abortion!" I was livid again, seeing red and stiffening while gnashing my teeth together. "I'd never—"

"That's enough!" Phil shouted.

"Fuck you!" I didn't even bother to turn.

Hearing the door slam and knowing Renee wouldn't follow, I stopped to catch my breath—my chest was heaving when I'd made it all the way down. The stairs didn't have me winded. I closed my eyes, resting my forehead to the wall, needing my heart to slow.

I needed to relax.

Once outside, the sun blinded me, and I dug into my purse for my shades.

"BELLA!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I stared up at the window.

"Are you planning to run away?" she asked.

I slumped my shoulders. "I'm going to Alice's…"

"When will you be home?"

"I'm eighteen!" I screamed.

She sniffled. "We're going to have a long talk."

"Leave me alone!" I practically sprinted to the corner.

Thank you for reading.

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