A/N: Here is chapter two! Thank you, Erin, for your help with this one! Much appreciated, girl :).

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight or anything dealing with the series; therefore, I do not own the character. The plot, though, is all mine.

Chapter 2: Stay or Go

Charlie's eyes widened and the expression on his face was one of panic. "Bella, I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about," he said. "Ms. Hale is an old friend of your mother's. She just wanted to know how she was doing with the death of Grandma Eve," he blatantly lied.

"Dad, are you really going to stand there and lie to me?" I asked him. "I heard every word you two said! I know what you did! Why are you lying to me?" I yelled.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he muttered.

I laughed humorlessly. "There is absolutely no way in hell you actually believe that what you're doing is protecting me," I said in disbelief.

Dad shook his head and closed his eyes before scrubbing his face with his hands. "I'm not talking about that," he whispered. "Bella, you don't understand…"

"Of course I don't understand!" I screamed." How could I understand? You just sold me…"

"I didn't sell you," he protested. "We don't even know if he's going to pick you. I'm just trying to keep all my options open, Isabella," he explained.

"All of your options open? Options for what, dad?" I asked him in confusion.

"Bella…" He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck nervously before continuing, "… We're broke."

I rolled my eyes. "Dad, I understand that our money situation is really shitty right now, but…"

Charlie cut me off with a fierce look. "We're on the verge of losing our house, Bella. I did some really horrible things, and now I owe a serious debt. I could lose my home and my job, Bella. I can't let that happen."

"So… what? Are you just going to send me away without so much as an explanation as to why? You don't seriously think 'I did some really horrible things and now I owe a serious debt' is enough of an explanation, do you?" I asked. "I deserve a whole lot more than that. And honestly, I hope you don't actually expect me to go live with this guy. I won't do it, Dad, I refuse to," I said firmly.

Charlie shook his head and narrowed his eyes at me. "If you don't do it, Isabella, you're going to have to get out."

~MOB~

The next morning I woke up and began to panic immediately because I couldn't remember where I was, but yesterday's events began to fill my panicked mind and I calmed down. I vaguely remembered staying in the bathroom for so long that I fell asleep, and then someone brought me to a room; this room, my room. I allowed my eyes to adjust to the bright light coming in from the window and looked around.

It was pretty big. The walls were honey mustard yellow and the floor was hardwood. A brown dresser sat next to the entrance by a beige TV stand with a flat-screen TV sitting on it. A black lounge chair sat in the corner of the room with a lamp behind it. My twin-sized mattress was sitting on top of a white platform with two drawers on the left side, a headboard with two doors on both sides, with space for books and other things behind it, a white night stand sat beside the bed. Two white fold-out doors covered the space that I assumed to be the closet. I also noted with surprise that my bags had been placed in the room and concluded that this room was mine.

It was where I'd be staying for an unknown amount of time.

A knock on the door brought me out of my musings, and I did what I could to my hair before croaking out a "come in." The door opened slowly and a familiar face came into view. "Hello," she said, smiling brightly. "How are you this morning, dear?" Cynthia asked.

I buried my face in my hands and groaned quietly. "Thoroughly embarrassed," I told her.

It was true. I didn't ever lose my cool or my calm, but last night I had and I couldn't believe it. It had to have been a new record in the "most immature" category, the way I had gone stomping off like that.

Cynthia laughed. "As to be expected after throwing a tantrum like that," she said. "Don't be though; if I were in your shoes, I'd be upset too."

I sighed and removed my head from my hands to look at her. "You heard what happened, eh?" I asked.

Cynthia nodded and began backing out of the room after placing a toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter. "I did, and we can talk about it over breakfast, if you like," she offered. "I wasn't sure if you remembered to pack your toothbrush, so I got one for you."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. "I always forget it."

She nodded her head and grinned at me before turning around to leave. "Oh, the bathroom is the door on the right at the very end of the hall," she called out just before closing the door.

I huffed and flopped back down, throwing both my hands over my face. I began to think about last night and tried to come to grips with everything I had done. I cringed and rolled my eyes mentally as everything I had said played on repeat in my head. Was everything I had said to Edward true? Did I really hate him?

I wasn't so sure anymore. Truthfully, I wasn't sure of anything anymore. I knew I needed to apologize to both Edward and Cynthia, though: Cynthia because I broke my promise and Edward because he didn't deserve to be yelled at. At least, he didn't deserve to be yelled at until I knew for sure whether he did or not.

With that in mind, I hopped out of bed and grabbed my things for the shower and the toothbrush and toothpaste Cynthia had left for me, before I headed to the bathroom to take a much needed shower.

~MOB~

I changed into a pair of jean shorts and a black tank top after I showered. I brushed my hair until all the tangles were gone and placed it into a big, messy bun. I put on my blue converse as well, because I figured I would go outside at some point of the day then went downstairs.

The smell of a wonderful breakfast hit me as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, and my stomach grumbled loudly. Cynthia turned around from the stove and laughed. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yes. I haven't eaten since the day before yesterday," I admitted.

Cynthia frowned as she cut off the stove and turned to look at me. "Why haven't you eaten since then? It's not healthy to go without eating, you know," she said.

I sat on the stool at the island and began to dig in to my big plate of eggs, bacon, and French toast gratefully. "I know," I said. "I was just too nervous yesterday to eat at all, and then I went to sleep without eating last night because I forgot," I explained.

Cynthia looked perplexed at my statement. "You… forgot to eat? How do you forget to eat?" she asked.

"I was too upset and it slipped my mind," I told her. "I usually eat like a guy, though, so don't worry about it." I didn't want her thinking I didn't eat.

She gave me a nod before she sat in front of me at the island and began to eat her own food. "Did you want to talk about last night, Bella?" she asked me after a few minutes of silence.

I put my fork down, done with my plate of food already, and shrugged. "First off, I want to say sorry. I know I promised you I'd be civil, and what I said to Edward wasn't exactly civil-like," I said sheepishly. "Honestly, I don't even know where all that came from. He just smirked at me and I fucking lost it. I'd been saying I hated my dad since the day he had told me what was going on, but I hadn't realized just how true that feeling was until yesterday."

I shook my head. "No, I don't hate him. I don't think. I don't know what I'm feeling anymore, Cynthia. Everything I'm feeling is like a jumbled piece of yarn, and every time I think I've unraveled one there are more. Anyways, back to Edward. I wasn't feeling anything toward him until I saw him. All my anger came back ten-fold and, like I said, I just lost it, and now I'm not sure if that anger was misplaced or if he deserved it," I told her.

"So you told him you hate him and you're not sure if that's true?" she asked.

I nodded and laid my head on the island's counter. "I'm just so damn confused. I seriously don't know what to feel, Cynthia. I'm not even sure I'm going to stay," I admitted.

When Cynthia spoke next, I could hear the surprise in her voice. "You're not sure you're even going to stay?" she asked. "Don't you think that was something you should have thought out fully before saying yes?"

"I did think about it!" I sat up and glared at her. "I thought about it for an entire week, Cynthia, before I signed that damned thing! If I had a fucking choice, I wouldn't have chosen this, but I didn't. Now that I'm here, though, now that I've met Edward, I don't think I can do this. My dad did some pretty shitty stuff, yet I'm the one paying for it!" I yelled. I jumped up from the stool I was sitting on and began to pace furiously. "It is not fair that he decides to be an idiot, yet I'm the one who has to suffer."

"What about your mother?" Cynthia asked.

I rolled my eyes and huffed. "Don't even get me started on that selfish woman! God, Cynthia, she didn't even come home to say goodbye! She stayed where she was and sat on her ass while I was being while I was being sold for my father's debts! What the fuck is her problem? Who willingly gives up their child to some guy like that?" I asked.

Cynthia cleared her throat when my ranting finally stopped. "So… you're angry then?"

"I don't know!" I exploded. "I don't know if I'm angry. I can't describe what I'm feeling," I whimpered pathetically. Hot tears pooled into my eyes, and I tried hard to keep them from spilling over, but when the first two fat ones fell, there was no stopping the others. I fell to my knees and began to sob, not caring at the moment that someone was watching.

It didn't matter if I did care, though. I knew Cynthia wasn't going to let me be embarrassed. She fell down to her knees with a soft thud and pulled me into her warm embrace, hugging me as if my life depended on it. "Don't you worry, honey, everything's going to be all right," she murmured softly in my ear.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," I said when I stopped crying and realized I'd messed up Cynthia's shirt.

She rolled her eyes. "Bella, I have a son and two grandkids, I'm used to this," she said.

I smiled at that. "A son and two grandkids," I repeated. "What are their names?"

"My son's name is Robert, my grandson's name is Kellan, and my granddaughter's name is Kristen-Avery," she said proudly.

I grinned. "Those are nice names. Kristen-Avery I particularly like."

She nodded her head. "Me too, but tell them I said that and I'll deny it. They'll never let me live it down if I pick a favorite name." She laughed and I laughed right along with her.

I sighed when the laughter died down. "Where is Edward?" I asked.

"He went to work, but he should be home right about…" She stopped talking when the sound of the garage opening could be heard. "Now," she finished. "It's 'bout time I get home, girly," Cynthia said.

I nodded my head and watched her walk away. I wanted her to stay just because I was scared of what Edward was going to say or do, but I knew she wouldn't and I wasn't going to ask her.

I picked a shitty time to grow up, I thought warily to myself.

Edward's footsteps got closer and closer until he was standing in the kitchen doorway, jacket thrown over his shoulder and briefcase in hand. He stopped suddenly when is eyes landed on me sitting on the kitchen floor.

"Hi," I whispered.

He frowned and said, "Hi."

"I-I think we need to talk," I said.

He threw his things carelessly onto the dinner table next to him and walked past me to the refrigerator and began to rummage around. "Talk about what?" he asked.

"What do you mean 'about what'?" I asked him. I stood up from the ground and turned around in time to see him take a big bite of his sandwich. "Obviously about us or this or whatever," I said.

"What's there to talk about?" he asked. "I paid good money for you. You're mine, and inside this house you'd rather we didn't speak much. I can live with that. I can't, however, live with you telling me you can cook, and then me coming home to no dinner on the table."

"If you had asked me to cook dinner for you and told me what time you'd be back, maybe it would've been there," I snapped. "And I don't care how much money you gave, don't talk about me as if I'm a possession."

He took another bite of his sandwich. "Isn't your job as my wife to know to have dinner on the table?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What is this, the 1950's? No! It is not my job to know to have dinner ready. Maybe if we talked, like I just suggested, then I'd know," I hissed.

"We're talking right now and you're being a bitch. All I did was ask a simple question," he said.

I gasped and felt my eyes sting with tears of anger. It took everything in me not to walk up to him and slap him silly. "I am not being a bitch. You're the one who walked in here like an arrogant prick and said I 'should know' to have dinner ready for you. God, if I knew you were going to be such an asshole, I wouldn't have come here!" I yelled.

"I'm suddenly starting to wish that you hadn't come, either!" he yelled back.

We stood there glaring at each other for what seemed like ages before I huffed in annoyance and rolled my eyes. "You know, for a twenty-two year old you're not very mature. All I did was ask to talk; you didn't have to bite my fucking head off," I said.

Edward rolled his eyes and took the last bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich before saying, "All I did was ask a question. Apparently neither one of us can ask questions."

"And you seemed so shocked when I told you I hated you! Can you not see why I do?" I shrieked. "You're unnecessarily being an asshole. I guess this is the reason I'm here, huh? No woman in their right mind could give you the time of day," I hissed.

The beer bottle in Edward held fell out of his hands and he glared at me hard. "Don't forget whose house you're in, little girl," he hissed.

"Like I could forget with you standing there," I told him. "I'm right, aren't I? You're avoiding the question, which means I'm right. You couldn't stop being a jackass long enough to keep a woman, could you?" I smirked when the anger became more and more evident on his face. It was about time I wasn't the only one who couldn't keep their emotions under control. "Is your dad proud of the gentleman you didn't—"

"SHUT UP!" he roared, slamming his fist down hard on the island. My eyes widened, and I jumped in shock at the pure rage that was in his eyes and etched all over his face. "Shut the hell up you goddamned…" He didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down.

I stepped forward, prepared to apologize, but the look he shot me when he re-opened his eyes stopped me in my tracks. My breathing hitched and I suddenly felt sick, knowing I was the reason he was so upset and obviously hurt. "Edward, I-I'm sorry," I whispered.

His eyes narrowed further, and I froze when he began to walk toward me. He stopped in front of me, our bodies only a foot or two apart, but I was too terrified to look up at him. Realizing I wasn't going to look up, he bent down until we were eye to eye, the fury even scarier up close. "I will not tolerate being disrespected in my own house, Isabella," he hissed fiercely. "You will respect me and do all the wifely duties," he spat, "you claimed to know how to do, but first you need to make up your goddamned mind before I make it up for you. Stay or go?" he asked. "See if I give a damn, either way."

And that was the million dollar question: stay or go.

Edward stared at me for a few more minutes before walking away with a grunt of disgust. I stayed where I was, not moving or breathing, until he was walking up the stairs.